Voldemort had paced the length of the room for nearly two hours; it had been nearing four months since she had been there with him and he began to fill his young wife's absence.
Each time his eyes landed on the photographs that were lined across the fireplace mantel.
He finally stopped facing them. The activity did nothing to wrangle in his troubling thoughts. Lazily he picked up a small gold frame containing a photo of Hermione. His actions over the past few years baffled even him. He would have never imagined he would be here and with her. Of all the women he had at his disposal he had chosen her.
He could easily have a harem but he settled for a mistress. He had his choice of some of the purest bloodlines in their world, yet he had chosen the mudblood- Potter's Mudblood. A young woman of no significant birth, no wealth.
He pulled out his wand and flicked it dimming the lights as he slowly headed for one of the high-wing back chairs, the photograph still clutched in his hand.
He sat his mind heavy and he sighed, "Nagini, old friend come and sit with me."
The snake began to move uncoiling and slithering away from the corner she had claimed as her own. Nagini slithered up the chair coiling around him but not completely engulfing him.
He sighed getting lost in his thoughts, "the girl was merely supposed to be a plaything. A way to further tarnish the memory of Potter and the Order." He held the picture running his eyes over her features before placing his hand back in his lap.
"I was supposed to use her, take all that I wanted and dispose of her, passed her on to someone; but I couldn't."
The snake lifted her head looking upon her companion, he seemed lost in thought merely speaking to himself out loud. The great snake decided to remain quite providing him with the comfort of her presence. She gently lay back down.
He chuckled, "you can't discard perfection regardless of what form it comes in," he paused, "you didn't see her like I did. The first time I really saw her," Nagini could feel her master's body tense.
She did the snake equivalent of an eye roll. Her friend was ashamed; Nagini could deduce he had fallen in love with the girl. She wanted to say it was alright to love but continued to remain silent.
He continued, "the way she dueled that night some of my best death eaters were no match; and her intellect, she has that in spades, I hate to speak of this aloud but that is what allowed the Potter boy to best me all those years. It was because of her," he sighed afraid to admit or explain he loved her, a mudblood. The hatred of her kind is what gained him his following. Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of all time, was indeed a contradiction.
"You know she was a virgin when she came to me that night. An unexpected but welcomed surprise. I would have thought living with the boys...," he chuckled, you know boys Nagini unrefined little bastards so impulsive but…," he sighed, "I've never had anything so pure. I…," he trailed off swallowing before continuing in a whisper.
"I love her and I won't give her up."
Nagini could sense that her longtime friend was genuine. She just hoped the young woman was aware of the fire a dark lord in love could bring.
Lucius felt the wards shift at the same time his mark began to burn. He rolled his eyes at the intrusion and hissed at the pain. Reluctantly, Lucius rose from his desk placing the quill back in its holder while closing the ink pot. He had spent the morning going over his accounts, serving the dark lord had proven to be quite expensive and he needed to go abroad to check on some investments that had been neglected during the war.
He exited the first floor study to find the Dark Lord waiting. Lucius hated that the man had such access to his home but he noted that the man seemed to be absent minded and Lucius stood quietly waiting to be acknowledged. The Dark Lord turned to him and Lucius bowed.
"My Lord, how may I be of service?"
"Hermione, where is she?"
"They are heaving breakfast, my Lord." Lucius began to lead the way, Voldemort on his heels.
"Alone? Without a guard?" Lucius stopped turning to face him. He looked furious.
"No, of course not my Lord Bellatrix is with them." He seemed to accept this and Lucius nodded before continuing to lead the way.
Hermione felt his presence at the same time her daughter leapt from the table running toward the older man.
"Daddy," she screamed as she wrapped her arms around his legs. Hermione began to rise.
"No," Voldemort watched as Hermione sat back down.
Bellatrix had rose and bowed waiting to be acknowledged by her former lover. She was further disappointed when he didn't spare her a glance as he walked passed her with his giggling daughter in his arms.
Voldemort took a seat at the table and Lucius turned to leave. He paused abruptly when he noticed Bellatrix frozen in place staring at the trio. He firmly grabbed her arm gaining her attention and motioning toward the door with his head. He could tell by the look on her face that she was on the verge of a breakdown or an attack. Neither option would have a positive outcome. He only hoped she could keep it together until they got out of ear shot.
He pulled her from the sunroom across the foyer and into a small ballroom that was empty except for a small sitting area. Bellatrix stopped before he could get her to the leather couch.
"Does it bother you, Lucius?" the question was whispered so low he had to pause to be sure he even heard her make a sound.
He sighed he was in no mood for her dramatics this morning. But from looking at her she wouldn't move until he gave her an answer.
"No." his answer was simple but truthful.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she asked.
"Yes Bellatrix. Honestly, it used to bother me, it perplexed me that he kept her around and second that he fathered a child with her, but it's not so simple."
She looked at him curious, "what's not so simple?" she seemed confused.
"Love. For a while I searched what it was that would cause him to throw away our cause then it hit me Bellatrix he loves her and there's nothing you can do but accept it and move on."
He sighed and in one of his rare moments he empathized with her, "Bella, you have given him enough of your life. Move on, marry again, travel, do what ever you need to do but seek out happiness anywhere you can find it."
He stated the last part before stepping around her and leaving. Business and his accounts abroad occupied his mind.
She was a clever woman and had come to the conclusion that he loved another. She had witnessed the scene moments ago it wasn't lost on her the way he kept his eyes on the girl.
At one time he would look at her that way. It had been a long time ago. It seemed the more she sacrificed for him and the more power and followers he gained the more she faded into the background of his becoming.
Eventually the lingering lust filled looks stopped. The soft caresses and the small tokens of affection had stopped shortly thereafter. The late night dinners and long conversations ended and the love making would, on occasions, end in violence or dismissal, often times both.
She endured because of hope. The hope of a promise that one day she would have claim to the place at his side once their world was his. That hope had been her sustenance giving her only enough to survive on.
She cursed herself; she cursed her naivety and sought out the small leather sofa.
Her mind went to her husband.
He was dead and a tinge of sadness hit her as she remembered how he begged her to stop her affair. He begged her to give up the darkness and the madman she had loved. She had mocked him and had been disgusted by the pleading in his voice. Bellarix had called him weak, now the memory broke her heart. He had really cared. He had loved.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt the urge to leave she needed to flee. Instead she continued to sit on the leather couch, the quietness of the room, its emptiness allowed the voices of the past to echo. The voices fed off of one another making her want to scream but dared not make a sound.