DYING FOR THE DARK LORD

Detailed Description: Bellatrix didn't mean to point the Golden Trio in the direction of her Gringotts vault while torturing Hermione, but that's exactly what she's done. Now Hufflepuff's cup is gone and the Dark Lord is angry. Huddled in her room at Malfoy Manor, clutching her infant daughter, Bellatrix awaits His wrath, unaware that she has less than a day left to live. While waiting she has time to think, time to panic. So she goes to Hogwarts to ask Snape for advice – but is surprised to find he's not alone. Upon returning to Malfoy Manor, she has time for one last chat with her youngest sister, during which secrets are revealed and alliances are nearly broken, before the Dark Lord returns... and the Battle at Hogwarts begins.

Like the two stories that preceded it, DYING FOR THE DARK LORD is a dark, twisted fic inappropriate for underage readers, but presented without specific trigger warnings. You don't have to read MISTRESS OF THE DARK LORD or LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD first, but it would certainly help this one make the most sense if you did. Mostly Bellatrix/Voldemort with a touch of Bella/Snape and a hint of Snape/Narcissa (because the guy gets around, okay? lol -jk). Thanks for reading!

CHAPTER ONE:

Robbed

No. It couldn't be.

Gringotts was safe.

Protected.

Under their control.

How could three teenagers possibly manage to break in, enter her vault, and remove the one thing He trusted her to protect? Everyone knew Gringotts was the safest place in the Wizarding World to hide anything, save, perhaps, for Hogwarts.

How could she have let this happen?

How could those goblins have let the kids escape?

How was her Master going to punish her when He returned?

She fingered the thin silver band on her right ring finger. "You belong to me," the inscription read, His Christmas gift for her.

"Yes," she whispered, turning it around so the three small emeralds faced out. "Please don't be angry, Master. Please…"

A whimpering from the crib in the corner of the room cut through the silence, shaking her. The whimper grew to a cry.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she snapped, but she immediately felt guilty for it. She was exorbitantly proud of the fact that she'd carried and birthed the baby of the Dark Lord and loved the little girl more than she'd ever thought she could love anyone or anything, but had she known how much work motherhood would be, she might have thought twice before conceiving.

She reached into the crib, lifting out the two-month-old, who was born slightly premature and now weighed eight pounds at eight weeks old, up three since birth.

"You're hungry," said Bellatrix. "I'll feed you fast. You need to be asleep before He gets here. He will be angry, Nova."

Nova was the name she had given the baby. Nova Black. She couldn't let it share her last name, a name she acquired through marriage, given that her husband was not the baby's father. Only she and her sister Narcissa ever used the baby's name, though. Rodolphus made sure never to refer to her as anything but "it," and only when absolutely necessary, while the Dark Lord simply called her "your baby," to which Bellatrix tended to reply, "Our baby."

Aside from her family (two brothers-in-law, one nephew, both sisters, and presumably her niece) the only one aware of the girl's existence was suspected double-agent Severus Snape, who had thus far only referred to Nova as "she" and "her."

Despite the secrecy surrounding her very existence, Bellatrix adored her daughter, and relished in calling her "Nova Black," almost as if it were one word. The name Nova was in keeping with those of the members of the Black family. A nova was an explosion on a dwarf star. Bellatrix was named for the third brightest star in the constellation Orion. Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, Sirius, and Regulus all had names that derived from stars or constellations too, as did a great many of their ancestors. Her only regret was that she couldn't add "Riddle" after Black, but since she knew how He felt about His birth name, she never suggested it.

To quiet the baby's crying, Bellatrix partially unbuttoned and parted the front of her dress, then slipped down her bra, positioning Nova so she could comfortably latch on. Then Bella slumped into the corner of the room by the crib, leaning against the wall for support, watching her baby suckle peacefully, no longer needing to wail. She couldn't help smiling slightly at the sight. She knew the breastfeeding disgusted her sister Narcissa ("Why do you have to do that?" she'd asked on more than one occasion) but Bellatrix couldn't understand how feeding her baby the way nature intended was any grosser than hiring a squib wet nurse to do it, and she certainly couldn't go off buying bottles and formula without arousing suspicion, especially as she was one of His followers to have been put on a Home Arrest of sorts three weeks ago, punishment for Potter's escape from Malfoy Manor. That was when Bellatrix lost her wand.

How she missed that damn wand.

She'd had it since she was eleven years old. It should have been snapped in two when she went to Azkaban, but thankfully her mother's connections saved it (placed in Narcissa's care) before their falling out and her subsequent imprisonment. When Cissy returned it to her after the mass breakout of Azkaban three and a half years ago, Bellatrix felt like she'd been reunited with an old friend. Now, who knows where it was? Stolen by those rotten children. Being used for good, not evil, no doubt. Disgusting.

Those rotten, lucky children, who had a knack for getting themselves out of spots no witch or wizard ought to be able to manage.

How had they finagled their way into her vault?

The Gringotts goblins knew her wand had been stolen. There was a chance the vile Boy-Who-Lived and his pals might use it for such a purpose. So had the goblins been in on the deception, or…

The Imperius Curse, perhaps? Would Potter stoop to using an Unforgivable?

He'd tried, once. On her. "Crucio!" He'd called, when they battled at the Ministry. She could recall laughing, telling him, "You've got to mean it!"

So she shouldn't put it past him.

"Your father might well kill me tonight, Nova Black," Bellatrix whispered. Completely unaware that anything was amiss, the baby was still drinking her mother's milk, as peaceful as could be. Bellatrix stroked the infant's pale cheek. She was a strikingly beautiful baby. When Bellatrix pointed this out to her youngest sister, Narcissa had laughed.

"All mothers think their babies are the most beautiful babies ever born. I was so in love with Draco, I thought no baby before or since had ever been so precious."

Bellatrix snorted. "Draco? Please. He had red blotches all over his face and his head was weirdly shaped."

"His head was not weirdly shaped!" Narcissa had put her hands on her hips, indignant. "He got a little stuck when he was coming out and had to be pulled along by a mediwitch, that's all. He was fine in a few days! And I think his red spots were cute!"

"Yeah, real cute," Bellatrix had replied sarcastically. "Nothing says cute like a bad case of spattergroit."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. "He did not look like he had spattergroit!"

In the interest of ending the argument, Bellatrix had relented, but now, as she sat cradling her baby in the corner of the room by the crib, she whispered, "Your cousin Draco was born with a weird-shaped head, he was splotchy-red-faced, and he was huge. Nine pounds at birth. Nine! With crooked feet because he didn't have enough space in the womb. If there's ever been an uglier baby I've not seen it. Not you, though, Nova Black. You're perfection. The best looking baby in the entire history of the Black family, with the possible exception of myself." She paused, considering. "Perhaps we're tied. But the point is, you're beautiful. Not at all like deformed Draco or ugly half-blood Nymphadora."

Truthfully, Bellatrix had no idea what Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora Tonks had looked like as a baby, but she imagined since the girl was a metamorph she probably had purple hair or a kitten's nose or something equally stupid, and Nymphadora's newborn son, Bella's great-nephew, was rumored to be just as abnormal.

"My cousin Regulus got an eye infection at four days old, so he was hideous when I first saw him. Sirius was yellow from jaundice, my sister Andromeda was so pale you could see her veins, and your Auntie Narcissa… well, actually, Narcissa wasn't awful looking, but her ears stuck out, they still do, which is why she wears her hair down over them even now. Not one of them was anywhere near as pretty as you are."

As a matter of fact, mot only was Bellatrix absolutely certain there had never been a more beautiful baby in the Black family than the one she herself had given birth to only eight weeks ago (approximately five or six weeks early), but she suspected there'd never been a more perfect baby born anywhere else in the entire world.

Baby Nova had large blue-gray eyes that had already started to darken with time and a head of thick black hair, though some of it had already fallen out (especially in the back) which Narcissa assured her was normal. Her pale skin was free of the imperfections Draco had been plagued with, and she had the sweetest, tiniest little eyelashes, and fat squishy kneecaps, and itty bitty fingernails on slender little fingers that wrapped around Bellatrix's finger whenever possible. Currently those soft baby hands were curled into fists resting on her breast. The suckling slowed, signifying Nova was getting full and falling asleep. Bellatrix leaned over to sniff her daughter's head. This is the smell she imagined Amortentia giving off, though it used to make her smell burning candles and the late summer air after a rainstorm.

Though Bellatrix had decided to breastfeed the baby mostly out of necessity, she hadn't forgotten Andromeda's words of warning about how fat Narcissa had gotten during her pregnancy and remained afterward. According to Andromeda, breastfeeding takes the weight right off, and Bella thought it seemed to be working, though she supposed worry and lack of food might have had something to do with that, too. She was almost back down to her pre-Azkaban weight (before she was toeing the line of emaciation) but she figured as long as she ate enough to feed her child all was well.

"He may hurt me," whispered Bellatrix to the sleeping baby, "But He will never hurt you. I wouldn't let Him. I wouldn't let anyone. I will protect you for your entire life, in all the ways my useless mother should have protected me."

She attempted to pull Nova away from her body, intending to burp her, but instead the motion prompted the baby to again begin suckling, as if waking up ever-so-slightly reminded her she was indeed still hungry.

Using wandless magic, Bellatrix summoned a blanket from the bed over to the corner and wrapped it around them. She was trembling, shivering, but the blanket hardly helped since cold was not the issue, terror was.

He'd been absolutely furious three weeks ago when Harry Potter and friends escaped, and even more so when she admitted that she wasn't sure whether Helga Hufflepuff's cup was still safe inside her vault at Gringotts. He'd insisted someone check but it could not be her, so He sent Rodolphus. While her husband was gone, He tortured the rest of them, including her, her nephew, both of her brothers-in-law (Rabastan and Lucius), and even her sister, Naricssa, who'd never experienced the Cruciatus Curse before and was in bed complaining of pain for two days afterward. Bellatrix had dealt with the stress of it by murdering the Snatchers she'd previously only stunned, save for Fenrir Greyback the werewolf. Surprisingly, killing them hadn't made her feel any better, and she'd returned to the bedroom of her daughter feeling hollow and defeated.

When she'd entered, to her surprise, He was already there, bent over the crib. A sick feeling rose from her stomach into her chest and up through her throat.

"My Lord?" she whispered, almost too terrified to speak. Surely He wouldn't punish her by hurting His own child.

"She was crying," He said. The chill in His voice gave her goose bumps. "If you're going to have a child, Bellatrix, you should be a better mother. Where were you while your baby was crying?"

The baby was silent. Bellatrix was too afraid to move further into the room, unsure of what she'd find in the crib.

"I thought the Snatchers deserved to die for their mistakes," she said quietly. "Please, is my daughter…?"

"Our daughter," He said. It was the first time He'd been the one to make that correction. "She was crying because you didn't return. I trusted you, Bellatrix. I trusted you to carry my heir. I trusted you to watch over Hufflepuff's cup. I trusted you to keep safe –"

"I did, my Lord! Hufflepuff's cup is safe, I'm sure of it; it is still in my vault! The girl said the sword, it's a copy! Just a copy! The goblin confirmed it. Rodolphus, when he returns, he'll tell you, I promise. And I hurt her, my Lord. I hurt her badly. If she was lying to me, I would know it. She swore they'd never been in my vault. Please, sir… our daughter…?"

"Is fine." He stepped away from the crib. "I held her awhile. She stopped crying. See for yourself."

Bellatrix rushed over. The baby was asleep on her back, her tummy and chest rising and falling with each breath. She looked to be completely unharmed. Bella let out a breath she'd hadn't realized she was holding, suddenly aware that He'd claimed to have held the baby to quiet her. If that was true, it was the first time since the morning of her birth five weeks before that He'd touched her, or even really looked at her.

"I take care of what's mine," He said, tugging gently on one of Bellatrix's curls, drawing her closer. "Or don't you remember?"

"I remember." She lifted the sleeping newborn from the crib and cradled her in her arms, gently kissing her forehead, not wanting to wake her but not willing to put her back down.

He placed His hand under His mistress's chin, the same way He had the night He'd learned what her stepfather had been doing to her and her sisters. Just as He had that night, He ran His thumb over her bottom lip, then, more gently than she was used to, He kissed her.

"I hated having to punish you tonight," He murmured when they parted, "But you disappointed me so. You had Potter. You had him and his friends right here, locked in the dungeon. All you had to do was call for me to finish him off."

"We weren't sure it was him, my Lord. Draco… Potter's face was messed up. A stinging hex, I think. Even Draco wasn't sure he recognized him. We didn't want to bother you… if we were wrong."

"But when you were sure…" Now He pushed the strand of curly black hair He'd tugged back behind her ear and traced down her side with His fingertips, His hand coming to rest on her hip. "You still did not call me, Bella."

"I thought… I thought the girl had been in my vault, my Lord," her voice cracked. She hugged her sleeping baby tighter. "I thought you would be angry."

"I am angry."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not enough, Bella." He placed His left hand on the top of baby Nova's head, stroking her soft hair with His thumb. "You owe me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You'll pay for this."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Put your baby back in her crib, Bella."

The knot forming in Bellatrix's stomach pulled tighter. He removed his hand from Nova's head. Bellatrix kissed the baby on her pale cheek, then placed her gently on her back in the crib as ordered. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she almost couldn't believe it hadn't woken Nova up with the noise of it before setting her down.

"What are you going to do to me, my Lord?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I think you know," He said. His hand entangled itself in the back of her hair. He steered her roughly to the bed, throwing her down. "You owe me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You'll not object? Not beg or plead or fight back?" He seemed… disappointed when she shook her head. "Pity."

They hadn't been together since Christmas night, the night He'd given her the ring and summoned her to His chambers. That night had hurt, even though He hadn't been rough with her. It hurt because she was still so badly battered from having been brutally raped by Him less than 48 hours earlier. For months after that, He'd not shown any sexual interest in her, so she assumed He was getting what He needed from someone else, which hurt in a different way. That said, over the next few months, He had occasionally allowed her to share His bed overnight. She'd given birth in March, a month prior to the Easter holiday when Draco came home, and just days later, His physical desire for her returned, but she was not ready. He pinned her against a wall, kissing at her neck and shoulder, running His hands all over her, but she begged Him to wait, insisting that her body had been through too much and she couldn't even think of being intimate at the moment, explaining that she was still bleeding and sore and simply not ready. To her surprise, He had relented.

"I will give you time," He'd said.

Obviously, time was up.

His hand returned to her hair. He turned her over so she was facing the mattress and used His free hand to pin her wrists together above her head.

"You failed me, you worthless bitch." He used his knee to part her legs then bit her – hard – on the right shoulder. Her dress had little cutouts there, so rather than finding material in His mouth, His teeth made full contact with her skin, drawing blood. She yelped, then bit her tongue, hoping the baby would not awaken. He pulled her hair, yanking back her head, stretching her neck. "You could have given me Potter. It's all I've asked, and I would have rewarded you."

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Not yet, but you are going to be." His free hand made its way beneath her, grabbing her aggressively between her legs, and even through the cloth of her dress, it hurt. "It's all I've asked of you, isn't it? That you bring me Potter. It's all I've asked of any of you, and you couldn't even do that, could you? You pathetic cunt. You waste of magic. You wandless whore."

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she whispered. "I'll not fail you again."

"No," He agreed. "You won't." He turned her over onto her back, releasing her wrists, and slapped her hard against the face. She wondered if this would be like the last time, when He'd discovered she'd had sex with her husband after having conceived His child, and He'd responded by torturing her into near-death. She promised herself no matter what He did, she would not start crying. The days of being overly-emotional ended with the end of her pregnancy. She was herself again. Headstrong. Independent. Arrogant.

A touch of crazy.

"Tell me," He said, a cold voice in her ear that gave her a chill, as His hand slid from between her legs to the front of her throat, "What was it like, torturing the girl?"

Bellatrix gasped for air, but was surprised to find His grip wasn't restricting it. He didn't even sound angry now. Suddenly He sounded almost… envious. Hoping she was reading Him right, she smiled and slipped her own hand over His, indicating He could put a bit more pressure on her throat – though not too much, as she still wanted to be able to speak.

"I had Cissy throw the boys to Wormtail," said Bellatrix, noticing that her Master's thin-slit eyes narrowed further at mention of the traitor's name, "So the girl and I could have a little chat, just us."

"And then…" He moved His hand slightly and lowered Himself closer to nip repeatedly at her neck. In response, she raked her fingernails up His back. She could feel His heart beating faster as her own pulse quickened rapidly. He flicked His tongue over the spot He'd just bit. There would be a bruise there. She couldn't hold back a moan.

They were both still dressed, but surely not for much longer.

"I hit her with the Cruciatus Curse a few times to start. When she was on the floor, crying, I positioned myself over her…"

"Did you?" He asked, an unnerving gleam in his eye. "Show me."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Eager to please, Bellatrix flipped them over so that she was on top of Him.

"Like this," she whispered. "With her arms out…" She moved His arms so they straight were out by His sides, the way she had done with the Granger girl. "She was crying. I don't think she'd ever been hit with the Cruciatus Curse before."

"Show me," He repeated. "Do it."

"You… you want me to curse you?"

"If you don't think you can…" He said this with disdain, as if perhaps He thought she was too weak.

"Crucio," she whispered, mere inches from His ear. Beneath her, His body twitched, but He was still in control. She hadn't been forceful enough. She needed her wand… and the will. She pictured that fucking house elf, unscrewing the chandelier, nearly killing her, making her lose her grasp on the girl, ensuring their escape. That did it. "Crucio!" Now the Dark Lord writhed beneath her, a slight smile on His face, enjoying her torment. She couldn't help herself – though His body was still jerking with the effects of the Curse, she kissed Him. He parted His lips to grant entrance to her tongue as she pressed her body flush against His, grinding against His pelvis with her own. He reached His hand up and entangled it in her hair, as He was wont to do, and pulled her mouth away from His.

"What's next?" He hissed.

"She wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know," said Bellatrix quickly, hoping to skip by the fact that she'd been certain they'd broken into her vault because they had the sword of Gryffindor. "So I had to get creative. I took out my knife…"

"Where is your knife?"

Her breath hitched in her throat. "It… I left it in one of them. I threw it. You know I've always been good with a knife."

"You can torture Mudbloods with Muggle methods as well as you can magical ones, Bella." This was clearly a compliment. His hand slid from her hair down her neck and spine, resting on her lower back. "What did you do to her with your knife?"

She could feel His length growing larger between her legs. She grinded again on top of Him, this time pulling herself up so she was straddling His thighs, positioned directly over His hardness. She rocked ever-so-slightly back and forth on Him as she continued. "First I put it to her lovely little throat, where my wand had been, but still she wouldn't tell me anything. So I had to resort to… more… drastic… measures." With each of those last three words she thrust determinedly against Him. He groaned, placing His hands on her thighs to keep her still. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she went on.

"I leaned close to her…" She leaned close to Him, "And I said, 'I'll give you one more chance to save yourself,' but still she said nothing. So I took my knife, placed it against her arm, and began to carve…" For this, Bellatrix used her sharp right index fingernail against His left forearm. "M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D. Deep enough to bleed, not so deep that it couldn't be read." She ducked her head down over His forearm, where she'd just pretended to write, and licked over the pale white scratch marks from her nail.

"Bella…" He moaned. She knew He was close. She might not even have to give herself to Him if He finished before they'd even started. Not that she didn't want to be with Him. She did. She simply wasn't sure whether her post-baby body was ready.

(And part of her also wanted Him to leave so she could more thoroughly check on her daughter.)

"Tell me…" He groaned, digging His fingers into the backs of her thighs. "Tell me the rest."

"The girl assured me the sword was a fake. I sent for Griphook to confirm. While we waited for him, I cursed her several more times, over, and over, and over again, until she passed out… I did it just for fun…" Bella's voice trailed off. This was when everything went south, when Potter and Weasley entered, disarming her. When she put the knife to Granger's throat, only to be nearly killed by that insubordinate house elf that formerly belonged to Malfoy. She threw the knife in one final attempt at revenge, knowing the Dark Lord was on His way, and it had struck the elf – yes, she always hit her mark – but what good had it done? Even if he was dead, Potter had escaped.

"Did you touch her?" asked the Dark Lord, unknowingly giving Bellatrix a way out of ending the story as it truly had.

"I may have. My fingertips may have grazed lightly against her skin, may have made their way over her perky little chest, and down… down…" she said seductively, moving her fingers down from His chest to His groin, even though she hadn't actually done any of those things to the Granger girl. Bella moved her lips close to His ear, so they were barely touching His skin when she spoke, as her hand gripped Him there and began to stroke. "We were so close, like this, when I was on top of her… holding her down… she's pretty, for a Mudblood, don't you think? We could have enjoyed her, together, the way we used to, during the first war. Would you have liked that? Maybe we could've bound Potter nearby, made him watch, helpless, while she screamed."

The Dark Lord brought his hand up to her breast and squeezed, a feeling she would have welcomed in the past, but given she'd spent the last month using her breasts solely for feeding her daughter the sensation was uncomfortable for her at best. She moved His hand down to her ass and kissed Him soundly, resuming her earlier gyrations, hoping He wouldn't want to put His mouth on her. She was in luck.

"Now," He growled, forcing up her long black dress, tearing her underwear away. She worked His robe, removing it just enough, and in seconds He was inside her. Still on top of Him, she bucked her hips, spurred on by His hands on her waist and the way His eyes closed contentedly. "Faster!" He hissed and she obliged.

It occurred to her that they'd all been tortured that evening – she, Narcissa, Lucius, Draco, Rabastan – but now the others had gone back to their rooms, likely licking their wounds, angry, embittered, and in pain, while here she was, providing the Dark Lord with a service she was suddenly certain He no longer sought from anyone else, a comforting notion.

Yet she felt oddly conflicted. Sometimes it was difficult, being so in love with a man who didn't return it, accepting that He could cause her so much physical, emotional, and even sexual pain and then, only a short time later, bring her so much pleasure. Especially now that she had her daughter – their daughter – connecting her to Him and signifying (to her, anyway) that she was worth so much more than any of His other followers had even been or would ever be, it fucked with her head knowing that this man she pledged her loyalty to, a man for whom she would die, could easily kill her for displeasing Him as He claimed He'd considered doing that evening. She rode Him until He came and, satiated, left her alone in the room. With their daughter.

Now, three weeks later, she was again in danger of being killed by her lover, her Master, for precisely the thing that had stopped her from immediately summoning Him when they had Potter in their clutches. The so-called Golden Trio had broken into her Gringotts vault. They had stolen the one thing He'd demanded she keep safe – Hufflepuff's cup.

What's more, they'd done it because she'd led them right there, by panicking when she saw the sword in the Snatcher's hand, by demanding the girl tell her what else they had taken.

It was all her fault.

He would know it was all her fault.

And she was terrified.

A/N Thanks for reading! Any reviews are appreciated. AL