Chapter Six: In Utero
January 1970,
At the bedroom clock, the twelve strokes of midnight echoed. With her mind full of dark thoughts, Bellatrix immediately rose from her bed and slipped on a dressing gown. Settling into the Lestrange Manor had not been without difficulties for Bellatrix. She had to get used to the idea of sharing the home of her unloved husband, Rodolphus, but also of her parents and her younger brother, Rabastan (the latter having to return to Hogwarts for his final year). Unwilling to share the same bed as her husband, Bellatrix had resorted to an old tradition among Pure-bloods, which involved sleeping separately. To say that Rodolphus felt betrayed was an understatement. Since their marriage over six months ago, he had continuously demanded his conjugal rights – and Bellatrix continued to deny him.
She knew she couldn't escape indefinitely. Moreover, if she were honest with herself, the prospect of sleeping with her husband didn't overly frighten her, even if she felt no desire for it. What she dreaded, however, was pregnancy. Rodolphus had once mentioned that he naturally expected her to bear his heir, but that was a subject on which Bellatrix would not compromise. Becoming a mother was inconceivable to her: she had never seen herself and would never see herself as a breeder – her two sisters could take on that burden in her place. As for the Lestranges, they could always count on Rabastan to expand the family. If she had to spread her legs to keep the peace, she would consent, but she had to ensure that no foetus would claim her womb.
Armed with her wand and an old grimoire, Bellatrix ventured into the manor's underground to reach her father-in-law's private potion laboratory. The place was vast and filled with countless multicoloured vials with terrifying properties. Bellatrix had never been very skilled in potions, even though she had worked hard enough to receive an Outstanding on her OWLs – this branch of magic was an undeniable weapon for a wizard, but it seemed so tedious to her to mix ingredients for hours. Bellatrix much preferred feeling the magical flows through her wand. However, this time, she couldn't find a spell powerful enough to guarantee the result she wanted. She made an effort to be quiet, but she knew that only her mother-in-law was present in the manor – the male members of the family had been summoned by Lord Voldemort early in the evening and had not yet reappeared.
This had become common since the past summer, and each time Bellatrix had observed the same look of discomfort on the arms of the two Lestranges while hers remained sadly painless. It affected her deeply. Many of her nights were haunted by the worry of being forgotten by the Dark Lord... She obviously knew that Lord Voldemort couldn't have forgotten her, but he seemed to think that her presence by his side wasn't necessary. Bellatrix had long believed, before becoming a Death Eater herself, that all of the Dark Lord's servants were called at the same time through the Dark Mark, but that was not the case. Often, only Rodolphus was called; Reginaldus didn't disappear every evening. Bellatrix had no trouble imagining why: even though Reginaldus was more powerful and experienced, he no longer had the youth for field missions. Moreover, it was unthinkable to involve him in sordid affairs, risking tarnishing his influence within the wizarding families. On the other hand, she knew perfectly well that Rodolphus's main role was to torture and massacre targets chosen by the Dark Lord. She had often seen him return in the middle of the night, his clothes stained with blood, staggering with fatigue but intoxicated by a certain morbid frenzy that almost every night drove him to push open Bellatrix's bedroom door. He always came out sheepish and frustrated.
To this day, Rodolphus still didn't know that Bellatrix had also become a Death Eater, but Reginaldus seemed to suspect something. During the dinners they shared as three, Bellatrix, Reginaldus, and his wife – which happened very often due to the son Lestrange's nocturnal missions – he often lingered on the dresses she wore, especially on her sleeves. Bellatrix had not once revealed her forearms since her arrival in the manor and had to wear tightly sleeved dresses for many months. This had been particularly unpleasant during the scorching heat of summer. Fortunately, one day she saw Rodolphus apply a concealment spell on his forearm before going to a meeting at the Ministry of Magic. It wasn't a spell that Hogwarts students learned; it must have been an invention of the Dark Lord directly related to the tattoo. Bellatrix was now capable of hiding her mark, but she feared that Reginaldus might have been informed by someone else. The only people who knew were Lord Voldemort, of course, and Enguerrand Avery through whom she had gone to speak with the Dark Lord last year. She didn't know if she had the right to reveal her status as a Death Eater to her relatives now. She had received no directives on that matter. In reality, Lord Voldemort hadn't contacted her since that night... since that infamous night in her old bedroom at her parents' house.
Bellatrix shuddered as she approached cautiously the potion she had hidden in a corner of the vast laboratory. She watched absent-mindedly as the green bubbles burst on the surface of the cauldron. Most of the time, she avoided thinking about the night she had shared with her Master. It caused her immense pain. Yet, that memory had been a great source of comfort at first. If she had survived her installation with the Lestranges, it was solely due to the happiness that night had brought her.
She remembered vividly waking up the morning after her wedding, alone in her room, discovering in the sunlight her sheets covered in blood. She had to make them disappear in haste before her mother noticed, but she couldn't do anything about the pain she felt between her legs. She wouldn't have attempted to alleviate it anyway because it was the only pain she had accepted willingly. For the following two days, that pain had accompanied her as she navigated her new life as a married woman. She had felt so happy to have lost her virginity in the arms of the Dark Lord. Being married to Rodolphus seemed almost a lesser evil now that she had become a Death Eater and experienced that dreamt-of night. That was until the days, weeks, and months passed without Bellatrix receiving any news, any word, any sign. She didn't know what to think, but she told herself that following the rigorous training he had subjected her to, this silence could only be the consequence of his visit to her room. Did he regret it? Had she disappointed him?
Bellatrix sighed. She poured a whole ladle of the viscous liquid into a goblet then drank the potion in one gulp. Now, four months and two weeks had passed since this potion had been brewing in the depths of the Lestrange Manor: it was called Sterilis and was supposed to irreversibly destroy her ovaries. The decision hadn't been difficult to make. Bellatrix had always known that she would never have any children. A grimace of pain crossed her face, then another.
A burning fire seemed to invade her intestines, her stomach, and her uterus. It wasn't supposed to be painful according to the grimoire. In a panic, Bellatrix remembered that she had poured the potion without adding the last ingredient, the very one for which she had risen precisely at midnight that night. What a fool she was! She collapsed on the cold floor of the laboratory, her hands clenched on her lower abdomen. Too foolish, too naive, too distracted, she repeated to herself in a loop. She writhed on the floor for long minutes, then unable to bear it any longer, she screamed in pain. She tried to sit up to retrieve the grimoire and find an antidote, but it was in vain. The pain was too intense. Her bloodshot eyes scanned the room in search of help: a bezoar, perhaps? She could hardly see anything. For a brief moment, she considered calling her Master, but she was too ashamed. He probably preferred her dead anyway. She passed out.
XxXxXxX
"What have you done...?" breathed Rodolphus, sitting next to her, his eyes filling with tears.
Bellatrix looked away. She could not bear this display of emotion. She had been in St Mungo's for three days. Mrs Lestrange had found her unconscious in the laboratory and taken her to the hospital immediately. The potion she had taken was analysed and the wizards had to create a suitable regeneration potion. Bellatrix had only been awake for a few hours and felt no pain, apart from a discomfort in her groin that made her feel as if she were constantly gasping for breath. She knew the source of her husband's tears, the man who enjoyed killing and torturing Muggles at night. Even if the potion had failed, Bellatrix had achieved her goal: she was sterile. The healers had managed to regenerate all the affected parts of her body except her womb. This did not upset her, but in her original plan she had not for a moment intended to admit this to Rodolphus. He was to find out she was sterile many months later, when he realised Bellatrix couldn't conceive, and the potion would never have been mentioned.
"I've already told you... I don't want a child," Bellatrix replied sombrely. "You've always known that."
Rodolphus was silent for a long time. He seemed deeply troubled, but soon his expression of sadness turned to anger.
"It could have cost you your life! What madness has gone through your head! This potion is infinitely complex and not known for its stability. And do you know why? Because it was created by madwomen like you!"
Furious, he stood up and seemed to want to tower over her. Which wasn't very difficult, considering Bellatrix was lying in a hospital bed: white, limp and dull. She had rarely felt so weak. She was disgusted.
"The potion was invented by a man, a younger son desperate to profit from his father's inheritance," she corrected with a wry smile, "I seem to have done Rabastan a great favour."
"Poor fool, you didn't..."
"Annul our marriage," Bellatrix interrupted. "It wasn't consummated. You can remarry and have as many heirs as you like."
Rodolphus stopped the murderous tirade he was about to unleash.
"You still have a choice, Rodolphus," she went on, "you can live the life you've always wanted or you can put up with a madwoman for the rest of your life."
"I've always wanted you," he admitted hoarsely.
Bellatrix raised a sceptical eyebrow.
"No, it's just that you've wanted me for so many years that it's become an obsession."
Rodolphus shook his head. He placed his hands on either side of Bellatrix and brought his face very close to hers.
"I love you, Bellatrix... No, don't flinch, I'm not lying. You can mock my feelings if it makes you feel better, but it's the truth. I've always wanted you, because I've always been in love with you, ever since you came to Hogwarts. Ever since I saw you in the middle of the trembling first years, all tall and proud and smiling."
"Oh, for pity's sake..."
"I loved you in the first two years, you were so cute with your crazy hair and your frilly dresses. You were so good at knocking the Gryffindors off their broomsticks. And it's true, when you arrived in third year, I didn't recognise you. Your rumpled, unbuttoned dresses couldn't hide your burgeoning breasts... And you kept changing: you got prettier and prettier and you didn't notice. You laughed like it was a game, but I was fourteen, my hormones were on fire and I was desperate to make love to you. You drove me mad..."
Bellatrix lowered her eyes. She remembered well the days when she thought of Rodolphus as her best friend, her brother. She had never imagined that her attitude could affect him so much – she had never done anything to maintain it. But was that the whole truth? Slightly embarrassed, Bellatrix recalled an old memory, one of the times she had teased him in the common room. She often pinched him or provoked fights with him because it amused her to no end. Girls bored her to tears, whereas Rodolphus was a comrade, a pal, a companion in her nocturnal escapades, a friend. This time she had jumped into his arms as he sat on one of the sofas. With her legs around him, her head level with his chest, she had listened to him tell how he had spilt his mushroom soup on Grace Prewett's head. She had felt the boy's erection beneath her. It had surprised her. She had pretended nothing, still laughing, but secretly amused herself by wiggling on top of him a little more than she normally would have done. Bellatrix didn't know if it excited her, but she had felt like playing that day... Playing with Rodolphus amused her immensely. It was funny to hear the boy's breath catch as she undulated against him. She was only thirteen, it was all a game to her. But, over the next few days, Rodolphus changed the rules of the game and there was no more fun between them. Six months later they were engaged.
Here they were today, at St Mungo's, a sterility potion in their bellies, married but not lovers, both Death Eaters but not accomplices, both in love. One with his wife, the other with their master. Bellatrix swallowed.
"What do you want from me? I'll never give you children."
"It doesn't matter, you're all that matters. I want to be a Death Eater and your husband. Children are not the most important thing; you and the Dark Lord are. We don't have a choice, Bellatrix. We're married now. It's up to you if you want to spend the rest of your life hating me."
He sounded sincere. Bellatrix wanted to believe him.
"Take me home before all this Hufflepuff talk makes me puke," she replied.
XxXxXxX
In the middle of the night she heard him carefully open the door, take off his cloak and robe and get under the covers beside her.
"How was it?" she whispered.
"You're not asleep, are you?" he breathed before moving closer and wrapping his arms and legs around her.
She didn't answer.
Bellatrix had recovered relatively quickly from the failed potion and had permanently moved her things into Rodolphus' room. Their wedding night had finally taken place a week after their return from St. Mango. It had gone much more smoothly than Bellatrix had expected. She couldn't help but compare Rodolphus to Lord Voldemort. Their experiences had been diametrically opposed. Rodolphus had been passionate, loving, fiery – kissing every inch of her skin, slipping his fingers, tongue and lips into places the Dark Lord had not deigned to touch. The pain had been non-existent with Rodolphus, while it had been almost unbearable with Voldemort. And yet... All the kisses, all the caresses, all the love of Rodolphus had been no match for the exhilarating, euphoric sensation that had gripped her in the arms of his master - his relentless power between her thighs, his single moan in her ear, his domineering, uncompromising hands on her, and his cold but gentle lips sometimes resting on hers. He had been relentless and hard, but never had Bellatrix felt such intense excitement with Rodolphus. However, she had enjoyed being in control – something unthinkable in the company of her master. The last time they had made love, Bellatrix had been astride him for the first time, dominant and uncompromising. Rodolphus had looked at her with a dark gaze filled with unbridled desire. Bellatrix could only dream of one day seeing the same sparkle in her master's eyes...
"It was simple, a routine mission," Rodolphus continued, cutting off the thoughts Bellatrix had been lost in.
She was suddenly aware of his tension against her. He seemed to want to say more, but couldn't find the words.
"What's going on?" asked Bellatrix.
"I don't know... I'm not usually the one to report to the Dark Lord after a mission, but he wanted me to tonight."
Bellatrix tried to make out his expression, but the room was too dark.
"And that's not good?"
"Of course it is! I suppose I've just been promoted a little. There are so many Death Eaters coming through, it's incredible. I heard one speaking Bulgarian yesterday, can you imagine? They're coming from all over!"
Bellatrix smiled.
"Then what's the problem?"
Rodolphus shifted his position against her, placed a hand on her bare hip and turned his face towards her.
"He... He asked me how you were."
"He what? Me? But how did he...?"
Bellatrix's heart exploded in her chest.
"I didn't tell him anything about what happened, I didn't even know he knew you," he replied in a hurried whisper.
"He was there on the day of our betrothal," Bellatrix reminded him sourly, "did you think he wouldn't remember me?"
"You're right... I was just surprised that the Dark Lord asked about my wife and that he knew about..."
Rodolphus paused. He didn't want to bring up the potion and its effects on Bellatrix.
"What exactly did he ask you?"
"How you were and what I was going to do about it."
Bellatrix felt as if she'd just stepped into a bath of ice water.
"Your father must have told him," she breathed anxiously, "I'm sure the healers explained what I'd done."
"Maybe my mother would have recognised the potion when she found you anyway..."
"The Dark Lord... Was he angry? And what did you say?"
"Maybe he was angry, I don't know. He seemed calm, but..."
Rodolphus couldn't explain the cold tension that had built up between him and his master at the mention of Bellatrix.
"I told him what the healers told us, that it's irreparable. That I would never have children and that I accepted that."
Despite her pounding heart and fear, Bellatrix felt a twinge of gratitude towards Rodolphus. He had not disowned her, not even to the Dark Lord.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He dismissed me."
Bellatrix stood speechless, frozen despite Rodolphus' blankets and hands. She didn't know what that meant for her. Was he angry? Would she be called to tell him as well? No... He had gone through Rodolphus to tell her, but had not called her. Why not?
"Don't worry, Bellatrix," Rodolphus murmured to her, "it's probably not important."
He didn't seem entirely convinced, and neither did Bellatrix.
XxXxXxX
"Dear sister,
How are you, Bellatrix? I'm really worried about not hearing from you. How is life at the Lestrange Manor? I know you don't like to talk about your stories, but I'm here for you if you need me.
Here at Hogwarts, everything is as usual. Narcissa is doing well, but I see her little. She's constantly surrounded by a HUGE gang of girls, and they seem to be having a blast. She still gets good grades, though. You know how Fourth Years are, though: the boys have finally noticed that the girls are really girls, and the girls are happy to finally be recognised as such. Lots of giggles, blushes, and gossip in the air... I'm hesitant to inform our parents about this. Narcissa is by far the shyest of them all; I'm sure she doesn't see any harm in it.
As for me, I spend my days taking care of the unicorn foals born a month ago. The Care of Magical Creatures professor likes me and has allowed me to feed them. The mother is too tired to take care of both. It keeps me busy since Vivian Fawley decided to stop talking to me... It's Rabastan's fault! He invited me to spend the next Hogsmeade trip with him. I told him he'd better focus on his NEWTs! Could you tell your brother-in-law to stop bothering me? Vivian is in love with him, and because of him, I lost my only friend at Hogwarts.
Sometimes I'm eager to finish and move on. Just a year and a half left to endure here... I miss you; Hogwarts isn't the same without you.
Andromeda."
Andromeda's letter to Bellatrix struck a chord with her. She had not thought much about her sisters since her marriage, but reading the letter made her realise how much she missed them, especially Andromeda. She adored Narcissa, but she was still just a child. Bellatrix's relationship with Andromeda had always been more complicated but also more intimate. They were very different, but at Hogwarts, their loyalty to each other had never wavered. However, she worried about Narcissa's behaviour... Her parents' leniency toward her shouldn't give her enough latitude to embarrass the family—especially now that she had become a Death Eater! At that thought, Bellatrix's mood darkened immediately. She wasn't even sure if she was still a Death Eater despite the Dark Mark on her wrist.
Bellatrix had tried not to think, not to reflect since what Rodolphus had reported to her. Having received no sign from the Dark Lord, she had resigned herself like never before, and she locked herself up day after day in the Lestrange library, buried in dusty tomes. It reminded her of her last years at Hogwarts when, eager to prove her worth, she studied until exhaustion. She no longer needed to please anyone now: neither her parents nor the Dark Lord. Bellatrix immersed herself in these readings to escape, even if only fictionally, from her new life.
Each morning was divided between sleeping in, a long training session, and a solitary breakfast. She then spent the entire afternoon in the library. In the evening, she dined with her in-laws, sometimes with Rodolphus. Every night, she shared her husband's bed, made love, fell asleep, and it all started over again. What she had feared since the day of her engagement at the age of fourteen was now a reality: she had become a perfectly ordinary married woman. It now seemed to her that her initiation as a Death Eater, her intensive training with the Dark Lord, and their night together were part of a distant past from which she was definitively detached. She had now lost all hope of ever seeing the Dark Lord again.
Yet it was on a beautiful, cool but sunny April day in 1970 that he resurfaced in her life.
Clad in a light white linen dress cinched with a purple silk band around her waist (a wedding gift she had disdainfully neglected to wear until now), her hair still damp from her recent shower (she kept forgetting her wand here and there now that she only used it for basic spells), Bellatrix was about to continue her thrilling read of The Most Loathsome and Horrible Curses of All Time when she spotted a tall figure settled in one of the library armchairs.
"M-Master?" she breathed in surprise.
He did not look up at her but simply turned the page of the book he held in front of him. Bellatrix recognised the old dark magic tome.
'What nonsense,' he commented with a mocking smile, 'I have much better works in my possession.'
He glanced up at Bellatrix without losing his smile. He hadn't changed at all since last July: the same suffocating impression of power surrounded him. He was all in black, as usual, with pale skin, eyes as black as the abyss, and straight, hard, dry features. Beautiful, thought Bellatrix, almost despite herself.
'You could learn even greater things from them,' he continued.
Confused and troubled, Bellatrix didn't know how to respond. It was difficult for her to understand how it was possible for the Dark Lord to be sitting in a chair, at the Lestrange's, in broad daylight, in this brightly lit library, as if it were entirely usual. Lord Voldemort placed the book on the coffee table in front of him and circled it to approach Bellatrix.
'What are you doing here?' she asked in a low voice.
'No need to whisper, there's only us here.'
Bellatrix knew: the Lestranges had warned her they would be in London today. It wasn't out of discretion that she had whispered, but because the sudden proximity between her and her master had taken her breath away. As if reading her thoughts, Voldemort approached even closer and placed his hand on her stomach against the thin fabric of her dress. Bellatrix shuddered at the touch.
'What have you done, Bella?' he asked.
Bellatrix immediately lowered her eyes.
'I did what I had to do to serve you,' she whispered.
Voldemort let out a brief mocking laugh.
'Oh no... You won't be able to use me as an excuse this time,' he replied sweetly.
With her heart pounding at the sound of those words, Bellatrix locked her gaze with the Dark Lord's and felt compelled to justify herself.
"Master, I... I never wanted to be married, let alone become a mother. I only seek to serve you."
Tears filled her eyes now.
"Now that's a more honest answer," Voldemort conceded, "I wouldn't have objected to seeing the pure Lestrange family grow."
Bellatrix searched the abyssal darkness of her master's eyes to see if he was angry with her decision, but all she saw was their usual icy reflection, and a hint of amusement as well. He finally released the contact against her stomach.
"It makes things much easier," he admitted with an amused smile.
Bellatrix wanted to know more, but Voldemort did not elaborate.
"I have a mission for you, my dear Bellatrix," he declared in a more serious tone.
He pulled out a tiny vial of water-green liquid from his cloak and placed it in the palm of the young girl.
"The Droplet of the Undead, for Cassiopa Maggins."
She knew the name Maggins: Igor Maggins was an Auror, a Gryffindor who had been Head Boy when Bellatrix made her very first entrance to Hogwarts.
"You want me to poison Igor Maggins's mother's tea?" she asked cautiously.
"Oh no! Cassiopa Maggins is only six months and a week old, if my calculations are correct, it's his daughter. I would rather try to poison the baby bottle in your place, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix couldn't completely hide the shock she felt. She had to poison a baby? The newborn and first child of Igor Maggins?
"That should be enough to make him think. Be discreet and do not disappoint me."
"Of course, Master," she replied immediately, both surprised and grateful to be considered a Death Eater again.
"See you soon, Bellatrix."
The Dark Lord disapparated, leaving Bellatrix alone, staring at her vial of poison.
XxXxXxX
The mission hadn't been particularly challenging from a technical standpoint. The Maggins lived in a cosy little house in a Muggle neighbourhood in Manchester. Breaking through the defences around the house had been easy thanks to the teachings she had received from the Dark Lord. Invisible by a concealment spell, Bellatrix went unnoticed in the silent house. The baby was in one of the bedrooms, asleep. The mother was in the kitchen, busy with the dishes by hand. Bellatrix immediately guessed that Igor Maggins' wife was a Muggle; the former Gryffindor himself was a mudblood, so it wasn't surprising that he ended up with someone from the same stock.
When the young woman finished washing the plates, glasses, and bottles that had filled her sink and left the room, Bellatrix approached the counter where a jar of Muggle powdered milk was placed. Without thinking, she emptied the contents of the vial of poison into the powdered milk and then left the house. She waited a few minutes. Twenty minutes later, the baby cried. Ten minutes after that, it calmed down. Five minutes later, the mother screamed. The most piercing scream Bellatrix had ever heard.
Considering her mission accomplished, Bellatrix apparated back to Lestrange Manor. She felt oddly numb, desensitised to any feeling. Yet deep down, she recognised the horror filling her. She had already killed someone, a woman eight months pregnant, in New York last summer. Isabella Jdanov, the wife of an enemy of her master. Today, she had killed the baby of a woman she didn't know. The missions assigned to her by the Dark Lord always seemed to contain an element of motherhood, even as Bellatrix had irreversibly burned her own womb.
Bellatrix felt nauseous and hurried to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom she shared with Rodolphus. There was still no one in the house. It wasn't very late; the sun was just beginning to decline in the sky. She didn't wait for Rodolphus to return that day, nor did she dine, but went straight to the coolness of her sheets. After an hour, still wide-eyed and with her stomach knotted, she conjured a calming potion that she usually prepared for Rodolphus. She fell asleep immediately.
In the middle of the night, a sensation of intense burning woke her with a start. She ran a hand over her forearm and felt the Dark Mark heat against her cold palm. Her Master was calling her! She turned to Rodolphus, who was sleeping next to her: he hadn't moved an inch. Bellatrix's heart pounded in her chest. The Dark Lord hadn't called Rodolphus this time but her! She had to hurry; Rodolphus and Reginaldus never waited more than a minute to apparate when the Master called. Bellatrix slipped out of bed, threw on a dressing gown over her nightgown, and apparated. She didn't think about the destination: she knew it without ever having heard it. She had to join her master, and the magical link between her Mark and her master was enough to indicate the place to reach.
When she opened her eyes again, she was in a room similar to the one she had just left. It was more like a large suite: part of the room was a small fireplace with a fire burning, framed by a cluttered bookshelf where no other book could find its place, and armchairs and sofas covered in black velvet arranged in front of the hearth. Beneath her feet, a thick bottle-green carpet was pleasantly warm. At the other end of the room, facing the fireplace, a huge bookshelf covered the entire wall except for a large double door made of dark wood. There were no windows in the room. Behind her, a second door of the same wood suddenly opened. Bellatrix turned immediately and faced her master, tall and impressive in the doorway.
"Good evening, Bellatrix," he said before stepping into the room.
The door closed behind him of its own accord as Lord Voldemort moved past Bellatrix and settled on one of the sofas facing the fireplace. He gestured for her to approach. She complied immediately and stood, upright and straight, at a good distance from her master.
"Good evening, Master," she finally replied, eagerly scrutinising Lord Voldemort's face.
He seemed a bit more tired than when he was at the Lestranges'. She noticed that he was dressed the same way and that a certain anger seemed reluctant to leave his face. She didn't know what had annoyed him, but she fervently hoped it wasn't because of her.
"Sit down," he ordered sharply.
Bellatrix hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Lord Voldemort, but chastised herself immediately and went to sit in a chair opposite him.
"How did your mission go?" he asked without preamble.
"Fine, the baby is dead, Master."
"Very good. Maggins will now know that the threats of Lord Voldemort are never empty."
"So he'll know that you're responsible for his daughter's death," Bellatrix murmured, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
She was completely in the dark about Voldemort's current strategy. While she observed Rodolphus making nearly daily visits to his master and her father-in-law's less frequent yet regular disappearances, the name Lord Voldemort had yet to grace the pages of the wizarding newspapers. Despite some peculiarities mentioned in those publications, his name remained absent. She was aware of his clandestine preparations, and with Maggins, a professional hunter of dark wizards, now on the brink of uncovering the truth, the veil of secrecy seemed poised to lift.
Lord Voldemort consented to a brief smile.
"Yes, he'll know that I'm responsible, but he won't dare to inform everyone. He knows that the rest of his family is in danger. Furthermore, even if he managed to find a trustworthy ally at the Ministry, it would be far too embarrassing for him to admit that he has been giving us information about Aurors since joining the department," he explained with amusement.
"Igor Maggins is a spy?" exclaimed Bellatrix, incredulous.
"To his great dismay, I'm sure," Voldemort replied. "He couldn't have guessed that so many influential and respected wizards at the Ministry of Magic could be in the service of a dark wizard. When he realised that his confidences were reaching me one after the other, he tried to inform his superiors without taking my threats on the subject seriously. He is now warned that he would do well to obey if he wants his mudblood wife to live."
Bellatrix nodded. She had to admit that it was easier to accept the proposed missions when she knew the reasons behind them, but her Master had already rebuked her on that subject last summer. She wasn't supposed to question his decisions, just obey.
"I'm still on the rise, but I won't be able to stay in the shadows much longer," Voldemort continued. "It's more than imminent now, and I don't intend to make my arrival a frivolity."
"May I be there?" Bellatrix implored immediately. "May I be by your side when the world discovers you?"
A strange expression crossed Voldemort's face.
"Aren't you at my service, Bellatrix?" he asked, somewhat surprised.
"Of course!" she exclaimed, "more than ever, but you haven't called on my services much lately..."
"I understand... Perhaps the reality of being a Death Eater doesn't quite match the fantasies you had," he said evenly, without animosity, but Bellatrix had no difficulty in recognising the threat behind those words.
"Master, I have no regrets," she hastened to reply, "I am proud to be a Death Eater, but I just noticed that you call Rodolphus much more often than me."
It was an understatement. Rodolphus was called every day while she had only been called once in the past nine months. There was a long silence after those words.
"You have no reason to be jealous, Bellatrix," Voldemort finally said. "Rodolphus is of considerable use, but you are much more valuable to me."
Bellatrix blushed furiously.
"Really?" she responded, her voice betraying the immense joy coursing through her.
"Of course. You are more powerful, more intelligent, and infinitely more beautiful than Rodolphus," Lord Voldemort exclaimed with a cold laugh.
Stunned, Bellatrix realised that Lord Voldemort had just cracked some sort of... joke? She couldn't believe it, but his laughter was infectious, and soon Bellatrix found herself smiling in return. Any lingering anger dissipated, yet she couldn't help but wonder what might have upset him, if not something she had done. She hesitated to ask. Lord Voldemort had now turned his gaze towards the fire in the fireplace. He hadn't dismissed her, but he didn't seem inclined to continue their conversation. Should she leave?
"Should I leave, Master?" she decided to ask in a weak voice, as if ashamed to disturb him in his thoughts.
He appeared to recall her presence.
"Oh yes, indeed... I nearly forgot, though..."
With a flick of his wand, he summoned a massive black tome through the wide-open double doors of dark wood. Bellatrix glanced at it. In the adjacent room, shrouded in darkness, Bellatrix glimpsed the feet of what seemed to be a sizable bed. For some inexplicable reason, Bellatrix felt her cheeks flush as the volume landed on her knees. It dawned on her that she was likely in Lord Voldemort's abode. She had wondered last year where the Sanctuary was, the place where he had imparted so much sorcery upon her. There were no windows in the chamber with its stone walls.
"Here is a grimoire far more intriguing than the one you were perusing earlier," he explained succinctly.
The title of the book read Dark Magic and its Curses, Vol. III. Bellatrix surmised that if Lord Voldemort kept the tome in his chambers rather than amidst the cluttered libraries of the living room, it must be either exceedingly rare or he consulted it with great frequency.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
She met his gaze. He was regarding her intently with his black eyes tinged with a blood-red glow. Like a statue, Bellatrix watched as Lord Voldemort's eyes traversed her visage, then her hands tightened around the book, and almost nonchalantly, he glanced at her chest between the folds of her dressing gown.
"Goodbye, Bellatrix."
"Goodbye, M... Master."
She cast one final glance at him before Apparating away; he hadn't budged, yet a faint smile played on his lips.
To be continued.
SamaraXX