Chapter Eleven : The Wife

"Examine her."

The Healer didn't move immediately. His small, piercing eyes observed Bellatrix coldly as the tension in the room reached its peak. Pale and frightened, Bellatrix seemed uncertain, perched on the giant bed she occupied. A weary sigh was heard, and then Edgar Mirepoix approached her with heavy steps. With a sharp motion, he flung aside the sheet that covered her. As the Healer began to part Bellatrix's thighs, Lord Voldemort turned away. The other three occupants of the room followed his gaze as he moved to look out at the starry sky through the bedroom window.

Bellatrix felt the cold fingers of the Healer enter her intimately. She clenched her teeth, but the suddenness of it was unbearable. She pushed him away with a kick.

"Let him do his work," ordered Lord Voldemort in an icy voice, his eyes still fixed on the window.

Bellatrix lay back fully on the mattress, her eyes closed. She parted her thighs again to allow Mirepoix to inspect her. She'd already thought, last year, that this Healer used his hands as much as his wand for treatment – something that made her deeply uncomfortable. The examination didn't last long. A few seconds passed in total silence. Bellatrix still had her eyes shut, but nothing around her seemed to stir.

"What is it, Mirepoix?"

"I don't understand what you're looking for, my Lord," replied the Healer, his tone attempting assurance despite a slight tremor in his voice.

Bellatrix opened her eyes. Lord Voldemort was now looming over the French Healer, towering above him.

"Is she pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Do I have ovaries?" Bellatrix interjected.

"Of course," Mirepoix retorted clearly.

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.

"What have you done?" he murmured in a chilling whisper.

"I've done my job, my Lord. You asked me to heal her, and that's what I've done."

Bellatrix felt panic rising within her. She threw a desperate glance at Lord Voldemort.

"What has he done to me, my Lord?"

"I've done nothing wrong!" Edgar Mirepoix protested. "You were in a deplorable state when I first saw you… I noticed the damage done to your ovaries, and I repaired them."

No one saw or heard Lord Voldemort cast a spell, but the next second, Mirepoix was writhing in pain. After a few minutes, the convulsions ceased. However, the Healer didn't get back up.

"You exceeded the instructions I gave you and failed to inform me when you did. For that, you will be punished, Mirepoix."

The Healer didn't respond. He lay trembling on the bedroom floor.

"Rodolphus, take Mirepoix to the Sanctuary."

"Yes, my Lord."

Bellatrix had forgotten he was there. Rodolphus struggled to hide his excitement. With more energy than usual, he strode over to the limp body of the Frenchman and disapparated, not without casting Bellatrix a joyful smile. He was evidently pleased with the news. Left alone with her Master, Bellatrix couldn't say the same. Fear and dread threatened to overwhelm her. Lord Voldemort sat on the bed and placed his hand on the Death Eater's stomach. He had made a similar gesture the first time she had seen him after her wedding. A strange shadow passed over his face.

"I've never been interested in the healing arts, and I didn't know it was possible to regenerate ovaries as damaged as yours…"

He spoke softly, almost in an apologetic tone. Bellatrix, tears in her eyes, was unable to reply. She placed her hands on his, and to her great surprise, Voldemort didn't pull away. She hadn't touched him in so long…

"What can I do, my Lord?"

Lord Voldemort hesitated for a moment, then Bellatrix felt his hand grow hot against her stomach, as though he was preparing to cast a curse. She locked eyes with her Master's reddish gaze. He was waiting for a sign from her. In an instant, everything could return to the way it was, and she wouldn't have to endure the torment of being a woman: bearing a child. Her eyes widened slightly, almost tempted, and she wanted to press his fingers against hers, thus agreeing to silence all her fears, when her husband's smile flashed in her mind.

"No…" she murmured in spite of herself.

"No? Do you want this baby, Bellatrix?" asked Lord Voldemort, with a trace of surprise in his voice.

"I don't know… Rodolphus wants it," she explained, a little ashamed. "What am I supposed to do, my Lord? He will never forgive me."

He withdrew his hand. Bellatrix didn't dare meet his gaze.

"That's for you to decide," he declared coldly, rising to his feet.

"Do you want me to get rid of it, my Lord? I'll do it at once if you ask me!"

"Why would I ask such a thing of you? I've already told you, I have no issue with the Lestrange family growing larger."

The Dark Lord's words didn't match his actions. Bellatrix couldn't imagine the fury in his eyes or his sudden coldness. She didn't want this baby, but how could she explain to her Master that she didn't have the courage to kill the thing her husband wanted most in the world? A year and a half ago, she would have had no qualms about killing this foetus, but could she still disregard what Rodolphus now meant to her?

"He's helped me a lot these past few months…" she admitted.

She regretted the fleeting contact of her Master's hand on her.

"You don't need to justify yourself," Lord Voldemort replied with a cruel smile. "You're doing what's expected of you."

Bellatrix didn't like the phrasing her Master had used. Yes, it was indeed expected of her to produce an heir – it was what her husband, her father, and the entire wizarding community wanted. Not Lord Voldemort, however, who had been moments away from killing her foetus a few minutes earlier.

The Dark Lord was about to disapparate but turned one last time to Bellatrix, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Do you remember the day of your induction? For a long time now, I've been watching you, wondering what happened to the strong and fierce young woman who said she would only ever submit to me…"

A heavy silence followed these words. Lord Voldemort watched with amusement as the impact of his words played out on his servant's tear-streaked face.

"Goodnight, Bella."

"My Lord! Please, don't leave. What do you expect of me? Don't be angry. I'll do whatever you ask of me."

Lord Voldemort didn't respond.

"You agreed to my marriage with Rodolphus," she reminded him, her voice tinged with something resembling bitterness.

Bellatrix saw his eyes flare red and hurried to backtrack on her words.

"I only seek to serve you… I'll get rid of it, my Lord… I'll do whatever you want," she desperately tried to recover.

"What I want is of little importance here, Bella," he replied calmly. "I was merely observing the astonishing change marriage can bring about in a woman."

"I haven't changed!" she cried, crawling to the edge of the bed where her Master stood.

She wanted to take his hands in hers, but the crimson haze in his eyes hadn't faded. That was never a good sign. She looked on with despair at his dark face, the rigidity in his body, the malice in his eyes. The effect he had on her never diminished.

"He doesn't deserve this… I… I don't know what to do… I've survived this past year thanks to him…" she whispered, as though confessing a shameful secret.

"Really?" he whispered back.

Bellatrix saw her Master's hand move towards her when Rodolphus suddenly reappeared in the room.

"It's done, my Lord."

"Good."

Lord Voldemort stepped back, cast a glance at Rodolphus over Bellatrix's shoulder, and disapparated. As soon as he was gone, Rodolphus approached his wife and pulled her into his arms.

"How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"

"No..."

"Have you been crying?"

"What? Oh no… I'm just tired…" Bellatrix mumbled, turning away.

She walked over to her dressing table and pretended to brush her hair. She needed a moment to regain her composure. A thousand questions raced through her mind.

"What did he want?" asked Rodolphus, settling back into bed.

"Who?"

"The Master, who else?" Rodolphus said, growing impatient.

"Nothing."

She was too tired and unsettled to come up with a convincing lie. She could have told him the truth, but she knew her husband wouldn't understand why Lord Voldemort had wanted to discuss her pregnancy, let alone his remarks about her marriage and behaviour. Was he right? Had she changed? An awful sense of foreboding settled in her chest.

"Nothing?"

"Drop it, Rod. I can't talk about it. It was about a mission," she snapped.

Once in bed, Rodolphus pressed himself against her.

"Bella, I'm so happy," he whispered into her neck.

I know, she thought furiously. She felt Rodolphus's hand wandering over her body, and without ceremony, she turned her back on him.

"Not now… I need to sleep."

"Sleep well, my wife."

A sigh escaped Bellatrix's lips. Rodolphus didn't take long to fall back asleep, but the young woman, completely lost, couldn't find rest. None of this should have happened. She had endured so much to lose her ovaries, and now, thanks to a half-witted healer, she found herself pregnant. It had always been her worst fear. Yet, what she had told the Dark Lord was true. She knew full well that Rodolphus would never forgive her. He desperately wanted an heir, even more so now that he was an orphan and the head of the Lestrange family. It was the first time she had seen him so happy since the death of his parents.

Despite her revulsion at the idea of becoming a mother, she was even more unnerved by Lord Voldemort's reaction. He had expected her to rid herself of the foetus. Bellatrix had the impression that her refusal had genuinely surprised him… Could he be right? Had she changed? It was clear she was no longer the same girl after what she had endured at Maggins' hands. She had just lived through the worst year of her life… She was probably not as confident as she once was. It was horrible to think that she might have become less interesting in her Master's eyes because of it. Had she disappointed him? Did he know how much these thoughts tortured her? Could he imagine the hours she spent dreaming of him? Of his words, his looks, his hands on her? No, he couldn't possibly know, Bellatrix told herself. He couldn't suspect that she still desired him as much, that she would give her life for him, that she loved him more than anything in the world.

Her pillow became damp with tears. She craved the comfort of his arms around her. He would tell her that she was still his favourite, his most loyal, the strongest, the most beautiful… The only woman worthy of being in his ranks…

Rodolphus snored.

Each of his breaths fuelled Bellatrix's growing frustration, and she decided there was no point in trying to sleep. As she stood up, her feet brushed against a piece of parchment, half-hidden beneath the bed. She suddenly remembered the letter her parents had sent her, which she hadn't yet read. She had hesitated to open it, expecting the usual, irritating reprimands from them, but now she was certain that any distraction would be welcome on this nightmarish evening. She tore open the letter eagerly and was surprised by its brevity — just a few inches of parchment!

Bellatrix,

Have you heard from Andromeda? She went to Diagon Alley late this morning to do some shopping but still hasn't returned. We're worried. Write back as soon as possible.

Your mother

Without a second thought, Bellatrix threw on a dressing gown and used the Floo network to reach her father's manor.

XxXxXxX

Cygnus Black was alone, seated at his desk, with a steaming cup of tea in front of him. He looked up at his eldest daughter when she appeared in the fireplace.

"Good evening, Father," she greeted.

"There you are at last…" he muttered, casting a frosty look in her direction. "You look dreadful."

Bellatrix ignored the comment.

"Any news?"

Cygnus shrugged without a word. He appeared rather agitated; a nervous tic twitched in his jaw.

"What have you done to look for her?" Bellatrix pressed.

"I'm not in the mood for chit-chat. Go and find your mother, see if she's more willing to talk to you. As for me, I've decided I won't spend another five minutes worrying over the stupid choices my daughters make…"

Bellatrix left the room, slamming the door behind her. Her father had the unique talent of irritating her to no end. He was always utterly useless in times of crisis. Bellatrix searched the house for her mother and finally found her in Andromeda's bedroom.

She was sitting on the bed, her back to the door.

"Mother…"

Druella Black turned abruptly to face Bellatrix. Her face was drawn. She was holding a black-covered notebook in her hands. As Bellatrix walked around the bed, she saw a heap of objects at her mother's feet.

"What's all this?" Bellatrix asked, surprised.

"I went through her things…" Druella replied flatly.

Bellatrix looked at the pile of magazines, novels, and still photographs scattered on the floor. Everything on the ground seemed to come from the Muggle world. Bellatrix felt a wave of disgust. She had a bad feeling about this.

"And that? Her journal?" Bellatrix asked impatiently, pointing at the notebook in her mother's hands.

Her parents' behaviour was beginning to seem very odd to her.

"No, just a notebook full of poems…" Druella murmured, staring into space, before handing it to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix took it and opened it to a random page. Her sister's fine black-inked handwriting filled every line of the notebook. There were short poems and quotes. One quote stood out to Bellatrix immediately. Andromeda had carefully written: "Never would she have guessed that in those moments, this man from an inferior background surpassed her in the greatness and depth of his ideas. Like all narrow-minded people who see limits only in others, she judged that her own ideas about life were truly vast, that the differences of opinion separating them marked the limits of Martin's horizon, and she dreamed of helping him to see as she did, to broaden his mind to match hers." — Jack London. It wasn't an author she recognised. Likely a Muggle, once again. Bellatrix stared at the notebook for a few moments, then at her mother's dazed expression and recalled the frustration and simmering anger in her father.

"What's going on?" Bellatrix whispered. "Where is Andromeda?"

"Gone," Druella answered with a slight shrug.

"Gone where?" Bellatrix demanded, her irritation growing.

Druella shot her a withering look.

"Away from this house… Probably to that Muggle world she's so fond of…"

There was disdain and disappointment in her mother's voice. Bellatrix felt lost and horrified.

"We have to do everything to find her!" Bellatrix exclaimed forcefully.

"If she doesn't return by sunrise, your father will report her disappearance to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol… But she's of age now… What can we do if she's decided to leave?"

Bellatrix was speechless. How could her little sister do something like this? Druella stood up and faced her daughter.

"Your involvement with the Dark Lord is not unrelated to her disappearance, believe me. She was frightened. Did you know she was promised to Rabastan?"

"What?" Bellatrix whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It was a decision made in secret with Reginaldus Lestrange last spring. She wasn't opposed to it at first… and then, when she found out he was a Death Eater, she begged us to break the engagement. Which we did when Reginaldus passed away."

"You should've kept the engagement in place; maybe it would've put her on the right path. But you've always been more lenient with my sisters than with me…"

"Don't start playing the victim again," Druella sighed, rolling her eyes.

Bellatrix saw red.

"How am I to blame for her disappearance?" she hissed. "It's not my fault you raised your daughter poorly. You let her read Muggle books and listen to their idiotic music… And it's my fault? I'm the only one in this family who fights for our rights and our privileges! Andromeda runs away, her head full of blood traitor ideals, but I'mthe problem? I'll always be the one at fault in your eyes… You're nothing but a hypocrite, Mother."

Druella slapped her. Bellatrix's cheek burned, and tears quickly welled up in her eyes.

"Bellatrix…"

The young woman raised a hand to silence her mother. She swallowed her tears as fast as she could. She had never imagined that her parents' opinions could still affect her. She had long understood that she would never fully satisfy them, no matter the huge concessions she had made to please them.

"Let me know if you hear anything about Andromeda…" she murmured, her voice broken, before leaving the room.

XxXxXxX

The circle of Death Eaters waited in silence. Lord Voldemort had summoned half a dozen of his servants to a cemetery in the south of England. It had been some time since Lord Voldemort had called his Death Eaters to his headquarters. Now, he preferred desolate places, abandoned Muggle factories, or disused railway tunnels, but most often, he chose cemeteries. Bellatrix liked that too. She preferred the calm, muffled atmosphere of the cemeteries the Dark Lord selected, far more than the decaying Muggle industrial sites that always reminded her of the garage where Maggins had locked her up.

This cemetery was vast, located in Cornwall, perched on a cliff overlooking a wide beach. It was too dark to see the sea that evening, but you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Bellatrix watched for a long time as the moonlight made the tips of the waves shimmer. The salty air soothed her nerves.

She hadn't felt this serene in a long time… She had seen her Master a few times since the announcement of her pregnancy: she'd had her second Occlumency lesson, but the session had been unusually formal. The Dark Lord had greeted her politely before jumping straight into the practice of Occlumency. Bellatrix hadn't had the chance to say a word. She had tried to speak to him at the end of the lesson, but he had made it clear, rather curtly, that he had no time and that she should expect the next session the following month. It had caused her a lot of anxiety. For the first time, she was caught between the two most important men in her life: the ecstatic joy of Rodolphus and the strange, silent disapproval of her Master. To her dismay, she realised it was the first time she had allowed anything to come between her and the Dark Lord…

Lord Voldemort appeared in his usual long black cloak, standing between two gravestones, his back to the sea. The Death Eaters bowed respectfully.

"Make it quick, Ethan, I'm in a hurry," Lord Voldemort said at once, wasting no time on formalities.

In the pale moonlight, his face seemed more tired and worn than usual. Bellatrix felt an absurd urge to approach him and touch him.

Alongside Bellatrix that evening stood Rodolphus, Antonin Dolohov, George Nott, and Ethan Rosier. It wasn't uncommon for the Dark Lord to summon just a handful of his Death Eaters. Bellatrix had noticed that he preferred not to share the same information with all his followers. For instance, she didn't know the details of Rodolphus's missions, and vice versa. It surely allowed him to maintain control over what was said within his ranks, making him the only one with all the secrets and information gathered by his servants. Bellatrix thought his methods were clever, but it undeniably betrayed a certain lack of trust in his followers.

"Master, based on the information I've gathered, it seems that some members of the Order of the Phoenix are currently in Romania, negotiating with the Carpathian vampires."

Lord Voldemort took his time before responding. He didn't seem particularly alarmed by the news.

"Unless I'm mistaken, I doubt that Albus Dumbledore, that great crusader against Dark Magic, has anything nearly as tempting to offer the Carpathian vampires as I do," Lord Voldemort replied almost nonchalantly. "But even so, we can't afford to let them doubt their loyalty for a single moment. Besides, I've been waiting for an opportunity to avenge what that miserable Order did to Reginaldus."

At these words, he shot a sharp glance at Rodolphus, then turned back to Rosier.

"How many of them?"

"Five, maybe six at most, Master," the Death Eater assured him. "The Prewett brothers are among them."

"Even better," Lord Voldemort remarked with a cruel smile. "Rodolphus and Bellatrix will take on this mission. No, not you, Rosier, in case your informant has more to share. Rabastan, Walden, Andrew, and Amycus will also go as reinforcements."

Bellatrix was thrilled. This was exactly what she needed lately: a raid filled with as much injury and torture as possible. With any luck, it would allow her to sleep soundly for a whole week. Dolohov and Nott, being older, were rarely invited to participate in such large-scale raids — it was natural that this mission would fall to the younger Death Eaters like Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

"Rodolphus, you'll be in charge of this mission," the Dark Lord continued. "I want to see members of the Order of the Phoenix fall, and it would give me great pleasure if the Prewett brothers were among them. As for the vampires, be cautious with them; they respect only two things: power and blood. Don't hesitate to offer them a few Muggles as a meal — that should certainly please them. You have an hour to gather your team and make your way there. You'll likely find the clan leader at Poenari Castle or one of those haunted castles that are so common between Wallachia and Transylvania."

"Yes, Master, thank you. I'm glad to have the opportunity to avenge my father," Rodolphus admitted gratefully.

"It would be a shame to miss such an opportunity," Voldemort agreed cruelly. "Be cautious."

He cast a brief glance at Bellatrix before disappearing. Rodolphus was in a state of intense excitement. He turned to Bellatrix.

"Go and inform Rabastan immediately; I'll take care of the other three!" he exclaimed, a hysterical smile on his face, his eyes almost wild.

Bellatrix nodded, grumbling slightly. She didn't like taking orders from Rodolphus or any other Death Eater, but she was too excited about the mission to dwell on it for now. She was about to Disapparate when Rodolphus grabbed her by the arms. His expression had suddenly changed. A frown creased his forehead, and he looked at Bellatrix with concern.

"Do you… do you think you're in a fit state to travel?" he stammered, glancing down at her still-flat stomach.

"Of course!" Bellatrix retorted immediately, pulling away from her husband's grip. "Don't for a second think you can sideline me, Rodolphus. The Dark Lord assigned me to this mission, the same as you."

"Yes… yes, of course, but—"

"Oh, shut up!" she interrupted. "I'm going to get Rabastan."

Rodolphus nodded, though he looked hesitant now.

"Hurry up and fetch the others. You've only got an hour, remember?"

"Yes, you're right, I'll go now," he conceded, though not without giving her a slightly troubled glance.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, then quickly Disapparated. The thought that she was about to meet a vampire for the first time in her life! It was an incredibly enticing prospect. She couldn't wait.

XxXxXxX

The vampire leader shared certain traits with Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix thought. Both were tall, dark-haired, pale-skinned, and radiated an overwhelming sense of power. Yet, Bellatrix was disappointed. The vampire was neither fascinating nor alluring. His black eyes, reflecting an infinite, dull emptiness, swept over the six Death Eaters before him with boredom, while his ghastly thin, pallid hands deftly handled a dagger with a silver hilt. His cadaverous white face showed no sign of cruelty—he appeared, at best, utterly indifferent to Rodolphus's explanations.

Never had two people so alike been so diametrically opposed, Bellatrix mused, her thoughts still with her Master. Her Master's eyes, terrifying in their depth, would often flash with blood, like a quill saturated in crimson ink on blotting paper during moments of anger or passion. The smooth, marble-like skin of the Dark Lord, soft to the touch, was more reminiscent of eternal stone than rotting flesh. His elegant, graceful hands betrayed no weakness but rather highlighted the regal nature of a wizard who, wielding great power, was never forced into menial tasks like some common Muggle. His hands, more than any other part of his body, held the secret to Bellatrix's irrepressible and desperate desire for her Master. Through them, he commanded, rewarded, and punished. Through them, he wrote to her, brewed potions for her, and once, he had placed them on her naked, trembling body. Lord Voldemort was the embodiment of immortality, whereas the vampire leader was merely a walking corpse… A world separated these two beings.

Rodolphus had finally finished speaking. He had just renewed the Dark Lord's offer of friendship and warned the vampire about the threat the Order of the Phoenix posed to the creatures of the night.

"Do you know where I might find them, your Grace?" Rodolphus asked.

The vampire raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by the situation.

"We've brought you a few... er... gifts, your Grace," Rodolphus added, slightly uncomfortable.

He gestured towards the three chained Muggles that Macnair was holding on leashes behind him. A smile lit up the vampire's face.

"At the inn in Arefu," he replied immediately. "Tell your Master he can be assured of my cooperation, but I'd prefer it if you dealt with your wizarding problems next time. We don't much appreciate our eternal rest being disturbed by the squabbles of mere mortals. Thank you for these delightful meals."

"Thank you, your Grace."

The Death Eaters handed over the Muggles and hastened to leave. The atmosphere of the citadel wasn't appealing, even for servants of the Dark Order.

The Death Eaters decided to take advantage of the element of surprise and headed straight to the inn. It was a small building in a tiny village perched high in the mountains near a tranquil lake. The location was breathtakingly beautiful, especially in early autumn when the sun still warmed the leaves just beginning to turn yellow. It was late morning when the Dark Lord's servants entered the inn. The entrance and its counter were empty.

The Death Eaters moved towards the tavern, whose doors stood open. The bar was very dark, but the group of blood traitors was hard to miss, gathered around a thick wooden table, playing Exploding Snap and exchanging jokes in English. Bellatrix immediately realised that Ethan Rosier had been wrong. There weren't five or six of them, but more than a dozen. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were, however, easy to spot due to their red hair.

Rodolphus didn't flinch, despite their numerical advantage, and took a step into the tavern. The sound of his boots on the flagstone floor immediately interrupted the men's conversation.

It only took a second for Dumbledore's men to recognise Lestrange, whose face, twisted with hatred, was fixed on Fabian Prewett.

"Sorry to interrupt your cheerful gathering," Rodolphus sneered with a twisted grin, "but I've got a score to settle with this young man..."

"Lestrange—"

"Avada Kedavra!"

That was the end of introductions. The next few minutes were drowned in curses of all kinds. Bellatrix left it to Rodolphus and Rabastan to deal with the Prewett brothers, but she had two other wizards on her. One was tall and blond, the other stocky and dark-haired. She'd never seen them before, but they were much older than her. They weren't bad wizards, but they weren't very fast... She could have finished them off in minutes if they hadn't teamed up against her. She had to use all her cunning to bring the first one down, allowing her to kill the second. She was frustrated: she needed to act quickly and didn't have time to torture her enemies as she would have liked. She was about to finish off the tall blond when she suddenly felt herself hurled across the tavern.

She crashed heavily onto one of the wooden tables in the room.

"BELLATRIX!" Rodolphus shouted.

She heard the chaos of the fight, the scraping of chairs, the sound of a few Disapparations, then Rodolphus's hands were on her… and she blacked out.

XxXxXxX

"You never wanted this baby..."

"Rodolphus, please," Bellatrix begged, her eyes shut tight.

The shock had worn off. In the dim light of the bedroom, Rodolphus had tears in his eyes for just a moment before his murderous gaze turned to his wife. They had only returned from Romania an hour ago. The diagnosis was clear: she had lost the baby. Of course.

Rodolphus rose from the chair near the window and approached his wife's bed.

"Look at you, you mad bitch..." he murmured. "You disgust me."

"I'm sorry..." Bellatrix whispered.

She didn't know what to think or feel. She felt frozen inside, confused by Rodolphus's behaviour. When she discovered she'd lost the baby, it was true—she had felt a flicker of relief, but sadness accompanied it. She was exhausted. The mission hadn't been a complete failure: the vampires were still on their side, and a few members of the Order had fallen—though not the Prewett brothers. Rabastan had gone to deliver the report. She would have liked to know what the Dark Lord had said in response, but fatigue weighed heavily on her. All she wanted was to turn her back on Rodolphus, close her eyes, and forget everything.

"You would never have been able to raise a child," he hissed with venom. "You're as cold and dead as a stone. You feel nothing, ever... except maybe when I fuck you like the bitch you are."

Bellatrix shut her eyes and covered her ears. Rodolphus wouldn't let her. He wasn't shouting, nor was he hitting her like he had in the past. He simply regarded her with cruelty and disgust.

"Does the truth hurt, Bellatrix?" he sneered. "It's nice to see something can still get to you... Don't think I haven't noticed. You did everything to lose that child..."

"I did nothing..." Bellatrix protested weakly.

Rodolphus sat on the edge of the bed and wiped away her tears.

"Oh, you're crying now, are you, baby?" he mocked, his voice dripping with venom.

It was immediate. A flood of terrible memories surged through Bellatrix's mind—Igor Maggins, on top of her, his clammy hands on her thighs, his putrid breath in her ear, whispering, "I'm here, baby... I'll never leave you..."

"Crucio!"

In an instant, Bellatrix had seized her wand. Rodolphus doubled over, crumpling to the floor, his body convulsing, screaming at the top of his lungs. Blinded by the urge to hurt him, her entire body trembled, yet her wand remained steady, fixed on Rodolphus, writhing in agony at her feet.

Rabastan burst into the room.

"Bellatrix, stop! Bellatrix!"

Without even looking at him, Bellatrix raised her left hand and flung her brother-in-law out of the room. Then, methodically, she lifted the torture curse, locked the door, and turned back to her husband.

"Dirty whore," he muttered, his eyes nearly shut, a bitter smile curling his lips. "Mad bitch..."

"Crucio!"

The screams filled the room again, lasting a long time. The pounding against the bedroom door continued, but Bellatrix ignored it. A cold wind swirled around her, shattering the windows and the chandelier in the centre of the room. Finally, a sweet euphoria began to seep into her veins as Rodolphus writhed like a worm, his eyes rolling back, his throat constricting. Then, everything became heavy, still, and painful.

Her wand was wrenched from her hand. She screamed. The voices around her grew louder.

"Calm down."

An arm wrapped around her waist like a vice. With a nearly inaudible "pop," she was pulled into a swirl of colours. She nearly collapsed as soon as her feet touched solid ground again, but she was still held firmly. Her legs trembled, and every part of her longed for release—torture, ecstasy, or sleep. Reality caught up with her. She recognised the menacing aura, the scent that surrounded her.

"Master..."

"Stupefy."

Total darkness claimed her. Torture, ecstasy, or sleep—the Dark Lord had chosen for her.