Bellatrix felt a profound sense of despair, blending and swirling with outright terror, as she perched herself on the edge of one of the green velvet sofas in Lord Voldemort's sitting room and knitted her fingers together. Her heart raced and beat a war tattoo against her ribs, fear for her own life and anxiety coursed through her veins, her mind a jumbled mess as she awaited his return to the suite. She felt, in this moment, that her entire world was in the process of crumbling around her like a castle of sand constructed on a beach by a little child. Knowing that she had so egregiously disrespected her master at what was meant to be a grand celebratory party earlier, knowing that she had almost certainly doomed whatever burgeoning romantic relationship had started to blossom between them…. Bellatrix felt abjectly frantic.

Yes, she had been very drunk when she had sniped at him about her funny stories about Rodolphus. Yes, it had been the wine talking, the many glasses of wine, when she'd taunted him about punishing her in front of everyone. She'd been bold and stupid because she'd been drunk. And she had indeed had her reasons to get that staggeringly drunk in the first place… not that Lord Voldemort would care, and not that it mattered now. All that mattered was that she'd made a fool of herself and she'd been disobedient and insubordinate. And Voldemort had killed people for far less.

The alcohol-soaked, dizzying haze of the past hours had left Bellatrix's mind in a confused swirl, further adding to the confusion and self-doubt that was boiling up inside her consciousness. In part to try and soothe herself, and in part because she knew Voldemort would be absolutely furious trying to deal with her if she were still a sloppy drunken mess when he came upstairs, she had taken a large dose of Resipisco Serum to completely sober up whilst she waited for him to return from the party that was still audible from the Malfoys' ballroom. It had worked; her mind was clear now.

Bellatrix bowed her head as a silent, steady stream of helpless tears streamed down her cheeks - not daring to let out even the slightest whimper, lest he hear it when he arrived. She was at fault here, wasn't she? She musn't allow herself the slightest concession of piteous crying or childish emotion. As Bellatrix's shaking thin fingers ran through her dishevelled hair, she couldn't help but think back to how carefully styled she had been looked when she had arrived to the party earlier that evening. Her raven curls had been pulled back and styled up exquisitely, her makeup perfectly applied for the occasion. Now, though, it had all gone to waste as her hair hung in a loose and shapeless mess and her makeup was smudged from her ceaseless tears, a stark contrast from hours before.

Bellatrix thought that her pitiful appearance would no doubt further anger Lord Voldemort upon his return to his suite. She could picture herself now, curled up on the sofa like some sort of ugly little urchin - her wide brown eyes wild with fear and trepidation, her hair and makeup unsightly, her elegant black gown wrinkled from how she'd fallen when Voldemort had pushed her roughly to the ground. She knew that tonight was not how it was meant. But what was done was done - there was nothing more Bellatrix could do now but wait, sobered up, and hope against hope that her master might find some modicum of mercy in his soul to forgive her, or at least spare her torture or worse.

Bellatrix's mind raced with hypothetical scenarios as she shifted uneasily on the green velvet sofa, staring blankly into the fireplace where she'd lit a small fire. She had been beyond foolish to act in such a way - so brassy and saucy, drenched in dry red wine that had emboldened her to disrespect such a dangerous and powerful wizard. So here she was, waiting to receive whatever punishment he saw fit to give her. This time, the punishment would not be a game. There would be no orgasm on a dining table, no pleasure found in sexual exhibitionism disguised as discipline. No. Lord Voldemort's fury tonight was real, so Bellatrix shivered where she sat.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden creaking noise, announcing the door from the sitting room to the corridor opening, and then the sound of it shutting rather firmly. There was a clicking sound of it locking, and then the low buzzing and thudding of the suite being firmly warded up. Bellatrix kept staring at the fire and felt her heart sink further into despair as she realized the time had come for judgement, that she very well may see a flash of green and nothing else in a few moments' time if Voldemort was angry enough with her.

All of a sudden, Bellatrix felt like she was going to be sick on the expensive rug under the green velvet sofa. She wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath her to swallow her up and consume her, so she wouldn't have to face the wrath of her master, but it was much too late now. Everything she had done at the party had been witnessed not only by the Dark Lord to whom she had vowed service and loyalty, but also a good number of his followers. She had failed horrifically. All Bellatrix could do now was sit in humble silence on the green sofa, her spine ramrod straight and her hands planted on her knees, her breath quivering as she readied herself for whatever was about to befall her. But as Lord Voldemort entered the room, Bellatrix felt a such a strong chill run down her spine that she shivered as though she were outside in the Malfoys' cold gardens. She wanted so desperately for him to forgive her, for him to understand why she had felt it necessary to become stupidly drunk and had thus lost her inhibitions, but she knew better than to defend herself.

She watched helplessly as Voldemort slowly stalked into the sitting room, his dragonhide boots slow but loud on the ground. He moved with less rapid fury than Bellatrix would have perhaps anticipated, though his face was absolutely furious as he came to stand before her and glare down at her, and she knew what was coming - painful punishment for her disrespect.

But that punishment was not immediately meted out. Instead of screaming, casting Curses, or even launching into a great lecture, Lord Voldemort merely stood there silently - studying Bellatrix with a mixture of rage and disappointment in his narrowed eyes. It was almost worse than anything else he could have done, as the tension between them hung heavily in the air. The moment seemed to stretch on forever until finally, he spoke in a low sort of hiss.

"You had best have a remarkably good explanation, Bellatrix, for speaking to me like that - drunk or sober, in public or private. So go on. Give it to me."

Bellatrix swallowed hard before finding the words to answer him as truthfully as she possibly could. "I - I kept drinking, My Lord, because… I do not wish to cast aspersion, but… the others, they wouldn't stop flirting with me. It was absolutely relentless. Yes, I went to the party on your arm, but it's like they think I'm your toy, and now that Rodolphus is gone, it's as though they are all… I don't know, like many of them are seeking to pursue me. So I just drank, because I - I couldn't take it, and I -" She began to explain, but Voldemort cut her off with a sharp, cold snap where he stood looming over her.

"What the blazes are you talking about? How much more clear could I possibly be with them?"

Bellatrix's mouth fell open a little where she sat. Suddenly she realised she was still being disrespectful, because Voldemort was standing and she was sitting. She pulled herself to her feet at once, and Voldemort seemed to realise immediately that she was no longer swaying on her feet or slurring her words. He narrowed his eyes and noted,

"The Resipisco Serum you seem to have taken has clearly taken effect, so we may discuss this freely, Bellatrix." He spoke slowly and deliberately at first before his voice rose into an angry tone. "Explain what you mean. The Death Eaters were flirting openly with you in a way that seemed they wanted to… to… pursue you? Under what pretence? You are very evidently mine! '

Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she actually tossed her hands up. She licked her lips and murmured helplessly,

"My Lord, I think that some of them think that I am just a plaything to you. Nothing more. Just a female Death Eater who serves you in battle but whom you use for pleasure and amusement. I certainly don't think that some of them understand that… erm… I don't think perhaps it's clear that you…"

She trailed off, chewing her lip hard and shutting her eyes. Finally, she whispered in a hurry,

"I drank quite a lot and I flirted back a little, because you were busy during the party and they would not leave me be. I didn't wish to create discord. Obviously, My Lord, it didn't work out as planned. I went too far with the wine and I wound up talking back to you, which was the worst thing that could have happened. I'm so very sorry. I am… so sorry."

Bellatrix's cheeks burned with shame and regret as she looked away from him. She wished more than anything that she could undo her actions, that she could make it up to him somehow; but all she could do was wait for his verdict in silence.

When Voldemort finally spoke again, his voice was softer and calmer than before - almost as if the explosive rage and furious apoplexy he'd demonstrated in the ballroom had never occurred.

"Your disrespectful behaviour at the party was unacceptable, Bella, but I know full well that it was out of character for you." She opened her eyes and stared at him in wonder. He ran a hand over his bald head and sighed before continuing. "You may have embarrassed me, and you may have created a logistical problem for me, but I will forgive you this once."

Bellatrix felt her eyes well, and she started to dip down so that she could genuflect, to fall to her knee in a sign of extreme obedience to him. But Voldemort caught Bellatrix's elbow and walked around the squat table and huffed a breath. He drew her closer to him and then put his hands on her waist, which shocked her, and his breath sounded unsteady for a moment until he said in a low, quiet voice,

"If my male Death Eaters see Rodolphus' execution as an opportunity to seek you out as a potential mate, well. I must say I can scarcely blame them, but they obviously have not had it made sufficiently clear to them that you are very unavailable. You are not a fucking toy."

Suddenly Bellatrix felt his fingers cinch on her waist, and she was yanked tightly against him. She yelped quietly then, and she gasped as his eyes flashed down at her. His lips were in a serious, straight line as he just stared for a moment and then whispered,

"You were insolent. Insubordinate. Disrespectful. You undermined my authority and you acted like a spoilt little snit in front of everyone. I had my wand aimed at you with the Cruciatus Curse on my lips."

Bellatrix felt a terrified crash in her chest, and as she clutched at Voldemort's biceps for purchase, she nodded frantically up at him. He just glared, his cheeks pinking, and then he muttered,

"I am not an idiot, Bellatrix. You are my most loyal and devoted slave. Never in a thousand years would you have publicly spoken to me like that unless you were drowned in wine. You tell me that you got that drunk because you were very uncomfortable with how my other followers were treating you, that they were relentlessly flirting with you because I recently slaughtered Rodolphus, because they do not understand the nature of my possession of you and they are chasing you. Have I got that right?"

Bellatrix felt her lips part a little, and she hesitated, unsure of whether she ought to keep trying to defend herself. But she finally swallowed a little and then nodded a few times in silence. Voldemort raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He nodded a few times and then reached to toy with Bellatrix's mussed hair. He finally said quietly to her,

"Well. Evidently, I need to make things much more clear to all of them. Perhaps little bits of flirtation and fucking on tables has given them the impression that I only bear you a physical interest and that, erm… well, I do not suppose they understand the full extent of things. It is incumbent upon me as all of your master to ensure that everyone is quite clear on where everyone stands. I shall do so. And for your part, you will be respectful in future."

Bellatrix bowed her head. "Yes, My Lord."

"Good girl," Voldemort murmured. "Get yourself cleaned up and go to bed."

He stepped away then, his dress robes swishing as he did.

Bellatrix walked slowly into the meeting room in Malfoy Manor, having answered the summons that the Dark Lord had sent out through all of his followers' Dark Marks. She hadn't actually known this meeting was happening, and had been surprised to feel her Dark Mark sear hot and to see it flush inky black whilst she had been sitting in the Malfoy library reading a book about Lord North's incompetent use of magic during the American War of Independence while he was posing as the Muggle Prime Minister. It was a dull book about a listless historical figure, and Bellatrix hadn't exactly minded having her reading session interrupted. She'd Banished the book back to the shelf and thrown herself up from the armchair, though she'd quickly realised she was dressed oddly for a Death Eater meeting, clad in a cosy sort of black dress made out of warm wool that reached her knees and had long sleeves. Her black curls were tied into a loose braid, and she had no makeup on at all. She was almost shamefully casual today, she thought; she didn't look at all like a ferocious soldier. But there was nothing to do be done about it. She hadn't had any forewarning, so she just slid on her black flats and rushed out of the library, hustling through the manor and going into the meeting room.

She slowed her steps as she realised she was only the third person in the room; Lord Voldemort was at the head of the table, spinning his wand in his fingers as he had a habit of doing. To his left was Abraxas Malfoy, and the two of them were conversing in low voices. Voldemort flicked his eyes up at Bellatrix as she came in, curling his lips up a little and jerking his chin toward the chair to his right.

"Have a seat, Bella," he said rather warmly. Bellatrix nodded a little and approached the table, sitting down and letting her legs swing where she sat. She cleared her throat and murmured,

"I apologise for my sloppy appearance, My Lord; I wasn't aware there was a -"

"Nonsense. You look lovely, as always," Voldemort interrupted her, and then he turned back to Abraxas. Bellatrix's face went warm at that. Others began to filter into the Malfoys' large meeting room then, one by one. Rabastan Lestrange gave Bellatrix an awkward little look of acknowledgement, and some of the ones who had been flirting rather brazenly with her at the party gave her somewhat cheeky looks, even though they'd all witnessed the showdown in which she'd been blasphemous to Lord Voldemort and he'd shoved and threatened her in response. Multiple male Death Eaters flashed Bellatrix quirked-up little smiles and flaring little glances. The Dark Lord seemed to notice; he touched at his chin and went quiet with irritation as people sat. He stopped toying with his wand and set it down on the table, clearing his throat.

"Silence," he finally said, once the table was filled with everyone he'd summoned. The low conversations died down at once, and Bellatrix found herself wondering just what today's meeting was about. Were they planning a new mission? Was this a scheme to replace the aborted plan that Rodolphus had spoilt? But before she could wonder any further, Voldemort folded his hands on the table, glanced around, and let the silence sit heavy for a moment until he finally spoke in an unequivocal tone.

"I have not been sufficiently clear to many of you, and for that I do wish to beg your pardon and to ameliorate the situation."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go round and wide. No, she thought. Surely this meeting wasn't about that. Three days had passed since she and Voldemort had discussed her drunken misbehaviour. This was a logistical meeting about a battle, wasn't it? This wasn't a meeting where Voldemort was going to discuss his private life with Bellatrix. Her heart began to thrum, her lungs burning as she struggled to breathe. Voldemort glanced at her for a moment, and then then turned his attention back to the group he'd assembled. He sniffed lightly and then drummed his fingertips on the gleaming wooden tabletop. He appeared almost bored, entirely unaffected, as he said the same thing Bellatrix knew he'd said to many people since Rodolphus' execution.

"It is very important to note that Bellatrix Black has never been married before. The wizard with whom she exchanged vows and rings, whose surname she took for some time, paid with his life for unpardonable treason. That boy could have never possibly been worthy of a legitimate or legal marriage to a witch from the House of Black, much less to a loyal and ferocious servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort. And so it is reality that all the pomp and circumstance was an empty absurdity. It was all a meaningless farce. What is important to bear in mind is that Bellatrix Black has never been truly married. Is that well and truly understood?"

The meeting room was very quiet for a little moment, and then finally, Rabastan Lestrange quite wisely spoke up and said,

"I understand perfectly, My Lord, that Miss Black has never been wed."

Voldemort tipped his head and nodded.

"Understood, Master," agreed Yaxley, and about five or six others verbalised their comprehension as the rest nodded and bowed their heads respectfully. Voldemort tipped his head up pompously and waited for the room to go quiet again. Finally, he just said,

"Good. I am glad we are all in consensus. Now. Bearing that in mind, I have observed that some of you have unfortunately taken advantage of Miss Black's unmarried status to try and seize on her beauty, battle skill, personality, and high birth, and that a number of you have engaged in open flirtation with her at social events… despite knowing well that I myself have partaken in interactions that are… preponderant to anything I do with any other Death Eater."

He narrowed his eyes and seemed irritated. Bellatrix's stomach flopped. Voldemort hadn't really been the one to notice the flirtation from the others; she'd reported it to him, and it had been why she'd gotten so drunk. She'd swigged down goblet after goblet of wine because she'd felt helpless and frustrated from the teasing and trifling conversations at the party whilst Voldemort circulated around networking with others. So now Voldemort was twisting that bit of reality. And the way he was speaking about whatever it was they had, calling it preponderant interactions , was a bit strange. Hadn't they told one another they loved each other? But then, suddenly, Voldemort snapped to the entire meeting room full of people,

"You will all know your places and you will know mine. Let there be more confusion. Bellatrix is not a curio with whom I mess about when I am bored." He was snarling now, his fingers curling around the edge of the table, and Bellatrix could see that his knuckles had gone white. Suddenly the room was sparkling with tension, and then Voldemort said quite sharply, "If there is a single person in this room who can't find it in himself to respect the fact that I possess Bellatrix Black, mind, body, and soul, let him stand up and be heard so I may handle your plight of ignorance properly."

A few people shifted uneasily in their chairs, and Bellatrix realised she hadn't breathed in at least a solid minute. Voldemort turned his eyes to Bellatrix, stared at her with a hard, icy glare that seemed at once crafted of steel and oddly affectionate, and he informed her in a voice just loud enough for the others to hear,

"You know, Bella, that I love you ferociously and that you are mine , don't you? You know that you will serve me until the day you die and that I forgive you entirely for your hideous, impious behaviour at the recent party specifically because I am in love with you. Hmm? You know this. And you know that I adore you physically and because you are my most beloved soldier, and that I shall always keep you near me, that everyone else is forbidden from you. You know this. Don't you?"

Bellatrix struggled then to speak, to find breath, but finally, she managed, "Y-Yes, My Lord. I understand. And I love you more than I'd ever thought possible."

"Good." Voldemort raised his eyebrows. He nodded. "I am so very glad it's all been cleared up."

He looked around the room, letting weighty silence sit for a very long while until the entire meeting felt itchy and almost uncomfortable. Finally, he shrugged, looking bored again, and said in a nonchalant tone,

"Dismissed."