As soon as the door closed behind him, Voldemort pulled out his wand. He had to take out the memory and put it into a Pensieve to study it. It was a useful habit he developed after first encountering Hermione Granger two decades ago. It helped him keep his sanity despite everything that he had to do to retrace his steps.
It would surely help him make sense of whatever just happened.
The silvery string slipped into the disk that usually sat securely in his cabinet. Images formed, showing him the girl on his lap, fully clothed, kissing him without holding back. He moved forward a bit, looking at the image of her naked in his arms. He heard himself tell her how powerful she was, and that she belonged to him now. He wasn't even sure whether she heard the words at that moment, she never stopped kissing him.
There it was. The sudden change. Standing on the outside, he could see the difference in his past self. The urgency with which he had kissed her. The determination. The total loss of control.
He went back again, noting that while he said those words, he definitely still was in control. Letting the scene play out slowly, he watched it again. There.
He understood immediately. Cursing, he let the memory glide into a small container, storing it with all the rest, before closing the cabinet again and securing the Pensieve inside. It was so obvious now. It was his own fault, really, as much as he hated to admit it.
He enjoyed how most people became more subservient when he touched their aura. They didn't know he was doing it of course, no one before Hermione had ever reacted to it so visibly, but the influence of it was still there. Most people became more fearful and more obliging. Some even turned submissive, like Bella.
But nobody had ever reacted like Hermione. Not only did she notice his touch, it turned her on. He should have investigated that instead of just abusing it. But it had felt too good, the knowledge that he could turn her into a mindless, drooling mess with the slightest touch of magic.
Of course, he had noticed before how whenever he did that, he himself felt the desire to just take her. Bury himself in her, pounding into her until he was completely spent. He should have been cautious. Instead, he used it recklessly.
Only to find himself at the receiving end of it as well.
Her aura pulled him in. It was clear from his memory. The moment he touched her and she felt it, reacted to it, he was as much under the spell as she was. He even remembered now that he had only wanted to brush against her aura softly, just a light touch to edge her on. She was not ready yet. He wanted to taste her more; he wanted to squeeze every last delicious drop of her desperate need out of her.
Instead, her aura called to him, made him use more magic until she was fully in his embrace and he felt every bit of her magic. Just as much lost in it as she was, he almost ruined it. Only when she became demanding was he able to snap out of it.
It would be dangerous to continue down this path without understanding it further. His little witch would have to wait before he indulged her more.
"I hope you feel better, Severus?"
There was the slightest twitch in the hand holding the tea cup, but otherwise, his most loyal follower seemed as stoic as ever. "Of course," was all he replied.
"I am glad to hear it." He sat down on the armchair opposite of Severus, pretending to enjoy the afternoon sun bathing the little salon on the west side of the manor in golden light. It was always amusing to see even someone like this man be unsettled if he did something normal.
"I have further need of you today," he explained after several more minutes of silence. "I have encountered a stumbling block in my path."
Severus sat the tea cup aside and folded his hands in his lap, levelling a calm gaze at him. "I am here to serve, my lord."
"Excellent."
Without further elaboration, he raised his wand and magically sealed both doors, preventing anyone from entering or even hearing what was happening inside. Then he concentrated fully on Severus, studying him like he would do with Hermione. The other wizard remained outwardly calm, his eyes never breaking contact. He truly was one of a kind.
Cautiously, he reached out to the aura, touching it just enough so Severus would notice it. "Do you feel that?"
Now, he could see a reaction on his face. Severus swallowed and rearranged his anxious features into a more relaxed mien. "I do."
Voldemort nodded. "Describe to me how it feels."
Severus remained silent for a moment, seemingly concentrating on whatever it was he was feeling. Then he explained, "I can feel you, my lord. Your presence, for a lack of a better word. As though your hand was on my shoulder. It is a similar feeling to when you graced me with the Dark Mark. A mixture of awe, respect, and fear. It feels like I should kneel before you."
He was surprised by how detailed Severus was describing the emotion. For a stoic man, he knew very well how to express his feelings. Slowly, as he would with Hermione, he extended his touch, gliding over more of the aura, pressing harder.
A jerk shook Severus' body before he caught himself. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "This feels more intense. It is hard to fight the urge to kneel on the ground. It is not unpleasant, of course, but resisting is a struggle."
Voldemort kept the pressure up, closing his eyes and testing his own experience. He couldn't say he felt anything. He was very much aware of the aura of Severus Snape, and he got the impression of being able to see his thoughts, but there was no pull. Whatever it was Severus was feeling, it was not a mutual experience.
With a sigh, he let go. "Thank you, my boy. This was illuminating."
"Of course, my lord. If I may, do you need further assistance? I understand that the topic of auras is little researched. If you would share your insights with me, I could–"
"I do not wish to share my insights."
Severus instantly fell silent. Despite his expressionless face, Voldemort could feel the irritation. In that way, Hermione and Severus were similar. When presented with knowledge but unable to obtain it, they pouted like little children. Despite all of his black robes and stern exterior, Severus was still easy to read for him.
Still, whatever it was that caused Hermione's aura to draw him in, it was not something so easily solved. Maybe he should share a little more with Severus, just enough to teach him how to touch the aura of another witch or wizard. It would be interesting to see if his witch had the same effect on her old teacher.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was more relaxed than the past couple of days. Maybe it was the addition of Rabastan, who joined them in the manor at the insistence of Rodolphus. The younger Lestrange always brought an air of chaos with him that nobody from the regal Black or Malfoy families particularly enjoyed. It never failed to make Voldemort laugh in secret.
Maybe now that he finally successfully retraced his steps and got his prize, he could drop the façade he had to keep up. The single-minded obsession with the Potter boy definitely drove his other self mad. He was lucky that he had found Hermione, being able to change his goals and staying focused despite the long time he spent in a quasi-dead state.
Having Rabastan around felt good. As much as he enjoyed that everyone feared him, the Dark Lord, he could do without their constant attention to him.
"Say, dearest Narcissa, how does it feel to play host to the enemy?"
Rabastan's wine-fuelled remark brought the polite conversation around the table to a sudden stop. Intrigued, Voldemort leaned his elbow on the table and watched the reactions from all of his followers. While Bella and her husband seemed more annoyed than anything, both Malfoys visibly paled. Only Severus carried on as though nothing was happening.
"No guest of our lord is an enemy," Narcissa finally stated with a noticeable tremor in her voice.
"Really?" Rabastan took a deep sip from his wine and levelled his gaze at Lucius. "Are you happy to have this school girl in your house?"
Voldemort saw that everyone shot him a quick glance, but he simply put his chin on his hand and smiled at Lucius. He wanted to hear the answer. It didn't matter to him how happy the Malfoy's were about the current state. All that mattered was that they complied, and that they did. Seeing the haughty Lucius Malfoy squirm though never got old.
"I prefer her here rather than at Potter's side."
Voldemort had to bite back a grin. That was a good reply, all things considered. He looked back at Rabastan who chewed on a piece of steak with too much glee.
"So you're saying she's a threat at the side of the big enemy?"
Lucius put his fork and knife down with a sneer. "I'm saying nothing of the sort. Rather, without her, Potter is even less of a threat than he already is."
Rabastan's eyes went wide in mock surprise. "Oh, I understand now. So you say the mighty Chosen One is no threat at all and our lord's pursuit of him a pointless endeavour as Potter doesn't matter at all?"
Instantly, both Lucius and Narcissa turned almost grey, while Bella turned to her side and slapped Rabastan square in the face. Even Severus stopped eating for a moment, looking at every dinner guest with his impassive eyes.
"Enough, Rabastan," Voldemort said, trying his hardest not to let the laughter slip through that he so desperately wanted to let out. "I think you've tortured dear old Lucius enough for one evening, mh?"
"Of course, my lord, I apologise." Nothing in Rabastan's tone showed any kind of remorse over his words at all. If anything, he sounded even more smug.
He could read on Rodolphus' face that he deeply regretted inviting his brother to dinner. Voldemort knew that it was just an attempt to make the Malfoy side of the family uncomfortable, but by the way the man was sweating, he didn't enjoy his presence any more that Lucius or Narcissa.
With a barely contained grin, he stood up and looked straight at Rabastan. "There is nothing to apologise for. Why don't you stay for a few days?"
"Gladly, my lord!"
With that, he left the stunned dinner party to their miserable silence. He could almost taste their fear in the air, it was so palpable. For a second, he reflected on the fact that his followers seemed even more anxious now that he stopped behaving like he did for the past few years since his return. Perhaps he should punish them for the obvious sign that they preferred him unhinged and obsessed.
"My lord!" Bella's voice reached him just as he was about to turn towards the stairs.
With a sigh, he stopped and looked down the corridor to her. "What?"
She closed the distance between them, stepping far too close for any normal decency. Her eyes shone with the same madness they held ever since he had her and the others broken out of Azkaban. But despite it all, there still was the clever mind of the witch he originally called his lover.
"I know I told the others not to question it, but I cannot help but wonder. What is the purpose of that mudblood in our sacred halls?"
He looked down at her, calculating what he wanted to disclose. "Why do you ask?"
Her eyes lit up. "I was just wondering … hoping, really, whether I could have a bit more fun with her. She screamed so perfectly under my knife. I missed those kinds of screams."
A twitch of something in him stirred at her words, but he pushed it away. Instead, he slipped a hand into her wild hair – so much like Hermione's – and pulled he flush against his body. He could feel the shiver that rocked her body.
"You know, my dear. For someone who's been by my side for so long, who knows me so intimately, you still manage to surprise me." He dropped his voice to a low purr, the same tone he used two decades ago to make her submit in bed. "Did my words leave the impression that I wanted that witch harmed?"
Bella's face only showed delight and triumph as her hands closed around his back. "I missed this, my lord. Don't you too?"
He scoffed. "Do you truly miss this? You struggled to take what I had to give twenty years ago. Don't you think it would be even harder on you now?"
She closed her eyes and sighed. "There is nothing I can't take from you, my lord. I am yours to use."
"And you would do anything I ask of you?"
"Of course," she whimpered.
He leaned down a little more, bringing his mouth close to her ear, his lips just barely not touching her skin. For a moment, he simply listened to her shuttering breath, her wildly beating heart. Oh yes, this woman still was as eager to earn his favour as she ever was. He pushed her back a little, pressing her against the wall. An intimate gesture that made her breath hitch.
He inhaled deeply. "You are not to touch Hermione Granger. She is mine to do with as I please. Instead, you should focus on how you can earn my forgiveness."
Bellatrix let out a gasp. "Forgiveness? What did I do wrong? Tell me, my lord, and I'll throw myself at your feet."
He pulled away a little, just enough that he could look into her eyes. Faces still close enough that the merest movement would allow him to kiss her, he pulled harder on her hair. Any desire was gone from her eyes, replaced by nothing but confusion and fear. Good.
"You harmed my witch, Bella. You left her with an ugly wound that she is too proud to have healed. Now I have to see it every time I take my pleasure from her flesh. It is only by her grace that you still live. If I wasn't so delighted to finally possess her, you would have long suffered for your mistake. So please, think carefully about how you can atone for your mistake. Before I lose my patience."