CHAPTER FIVE:

Summoned

Bellatrix Black Lestrange had long considered herself the Dark Lord's most faithful, most devoted, and most respected follower. His most valued, most enthusiastic, and most loyal servant. Others could make the same claim – others did, often – but she knew they were all fighting for second, including that pathetic groveling mess Wormtail and that two-timing probable traitor, Snape. Even Barty Crouch, Jr. had renounced the Dark Lord at his trial after the first war, around the same time Lucius Malfoy's gold kept him from being charged and the Carrows insistence that they'd been under the Imperius Curse kept them out of prison. She alone had pushed His followers to search for Him. She alone had insisted upon torturing the Longbottoms for information. She alone called out her devotion to Him during her trial and never once wavered in it, never once pretended to have been anything but a Death Eater, a sadist marked by a touch of insanity, a faithful follower completely in love with the man she called Master.

She hadn't always called Him Master.

The night they met in the pub down Knockturn Alley, when she was reading Magick Moste Evile and He asked to join her, He had given her a different name.

"Riddle. Tom Riddle. But soon the entire Wizarding World will know me only as Lord Vodemort, a name that shall be so feared none will dare speak it."

"Yes, sir," she'd answered, polite and transfixed. Later, long after it had become unacceptable to say "Voldemort" and she'd switched to calling Him "My Lord," she'd reflect on the fact that her fellow Death Eaters had no knowledge of His birth name. With the possible exceptions of those who remembered Him from Hogwarts, when He first began to gather followers, the Knights of Walpurgis (as they were originally known) were completely unaware that their Master was the same Tom Riddle who'd once received an award for Special Services to the School, which she'd discovered in the trophy room during detention shortly after returning for her seventh year. She had then sought to learn all she could about the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, the leader of a pure blood movement who would capture both her attention and her affection, and, on the eve of their very first encounter, take her virginity.

That first night, the name she'd whispered in His ear at His request was "Voldemort," and it was also the name she cried out when He made her feel the way she never thought possible, not in the arms of a man, not like this.

Now she alternated between calling him "Sir" and "Master" and "My Lord," though every once in awhile (during the first war) He would ask her to call Him Tom. The few times he made such a request always occurred in bed, never in conversation or in passing. And she could never, never use that name without express permission. This much was made abundantly clear.

In turn, He called her Bella, a nickname that had, up until that point, been reserved for usage only by her two younger sisters, started by Andromeda who, until age five or six, couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs, and therefore called her "Bewwatwix." This trend was continued by Narcissa, who couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs either, thus chose to call her simply "Bewwa."

"Bewwatwix, watch me!" Andromeda used to call. Then she'd do something stupid, like a wobbly summersault, scramble to her feet, and throw her hands up like a champion, awaiting her score.

"No Bewwa, washhh me!" Narcissa would try to copy, flopping over, pulling herself into a standing position, tossing up her own arms.

"Good job!" Six-year-old Bellatrix would say over and over, half-watching, fighting the urge to roll her eyes after every less-than-impressive little stunt. "Wow, look at you!"

And the littler girls would clap for themselves and rejoice because their big sister thought they'd done something to be proud of. Then they'd do it again. Over and over and over. Each time, begging her to watch, seeking her approval.

It was pathetic.

They were annoying.

So why did she miss Andromeda so much?

And why couldn't she confide in Narcissa?

Bellatrix sighed, running her fingertips over the black box Draco delivered a short time ago. She could only imagine what her mother would say, if she could see her now. They had spoken only once after Bella's arrest.

"You brought shame upon our family," her mother had said. The only reason they'd been permitted a visit was because their mother sat on a very large amount of gold, inherited from her parents, deceased first husband, and tragically murdered second, and she knew exactly how to throw that gold around – not by bribing anyone, no, but by making the right contributions to the right people when it came time for elections to be held or Wizengamot appointments to be made, and she knew those she had helped along the way would help her later, when she needed it, like now.

"Are you a blood-traitor too, Mother?" asked Bellatrix coolly. She was thirty years old, confident in her decision to torture the Longbottoms for information, and certain her Master would return, so she no longer feared the woman who'd brought her into the world.

"You know I'm not," her mother had hissed, eyes darting around to see if the Ministry guards were listening. "I supported His cause, but He was destroyed. Taken down by a baby, for goodness sakes. These are precarious times. Your sister and her husband are struggling to keep our of Azkaban for the sake of their son, our old friends are being sentenced left and right, we all have to pretend we're happy about this 'Boy who Lives' nonsense, and what does my eldest daughter do? Seek a low profile? Attempt to save herself? Drum up some remorse or pretend to have been under the Imperius Curse? No. She runs off with a gang of Death Eaters and tortures into insanity a couple who are – were – very well-liked by Dumbledore and those in charge at the Ministry! Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix laughed, choosing her next words carefully.

"You don't care about me, Mother. You don't care that I'm going to Azkaban for the rest of my life. You don't care about what awaits me there, the Dementors, the endless years, the inevitable insanity. You care only because by refusing to hide away my true loyalties I've potentially besmirched the family name! You've come not to see that I am well or to convince me to save myself, but to see if there's any way you can save your own reputation! I shouldn't be surprised. You've never been terribly concerned with protecting us girls. Only with keeping up appearances. As long as we appeared to be doing well, that's what mattered, eh?"

"I'm not the problem here, Bellatrix," their mother snapped, gathering up her traveling cloak. "You are. You're selfish."

"I'm selfish? I am selfish? You, Mother!" Bellatrix stood too, squaring off, pointing at her mother, wishing she hadn't been relieved of her wand. "You, Mother! You are selfish! You married a man for money and status and because of his bloodline, you married him a matter of months after Father passed, and you knew what he was doing to us – you knew! And you looked the other way for all those years because it was the best thing for you! What kind of mother lets her husband have her daughters like that, night after night? Fuck, Mother, Narcissa was practically a baby!"

"Don't use that language with me, Bellatrix." One of the Ministry guards by the door moved forward, wand at the ready, clearly expecting to need to break up a fight. "As for… for what you're implying… he told me the truth. He told me you'd try to fill my head with lies about him. You never liked him, even though he was good to us!"

"He did awful things to us!"

"He says you seduced him!" Her mother's shriek had reached glass-shattering level. There was no way the guards couldn't make out every word. "He says you seduced him and filled the younger girls' heads with the same lies you're trying to put in mine! You've tried convincing me of this nonsense before, Bellatrix. It didn't work then and it will not work now!"

"Go!" Bellatrix pointed toward the door. "Get out. I don't want you here. I'd rather live a thousand lifetimes in Azkaban than spend one more second in this room with you."

"Very well." Her mother fastened her cloak and spend off toward the exit. "But don't expect me to use my connections to try and get you a lighter sentence."

"I don't need your connections," snapped Bellatrix, who was dying to scream out "Avada Kedavra" and be done with this. "I don't need anyone! Mark my words, Mother. Lord Voldemort will be back. Yes – don't look at me that way. I'm not crazy. I'm right! The Dark Lord will rise again! And when He does, He will know that I alone was loyal, that I alone searched for Him, and that I alone refused to sell out my beliefs to avoid prosecution. Throughout my entire life He has been my only protector and my greatest love and someday He and I will rule the Wizarding World together. You'll see!"

The Ministry guards escorted her mother from the room and brought her back to her holding cell. They had so many witches and wizards awaiting trial and so many already in Azkaban that the prison was full, so they'd taken to using this full guarded temporary jail until each could be processed. Bellatrix would be transported in the morning. Aside from the day of her trial, she wouldn't see outside Azkaban's walls again for another fourteen years.

The last conversation with her mother replayed itself in her mind countless times as the Dementors sucked away all of her happiness, as did the many, many memories from her childhood that she'd long ago tried to suppress.

To counteract that, she forced herself to focus on every happy memory she refused to let them take from her. Namely of her various encounters with Him, which were dark enough that passing Dementors couldn't sense they were supposed to be good though it didn't hurt that He had taught her so much about controlling her emotions and locking her mind.

Sure, she supposed she'd gone a little insane during her decade-and-a-half behind bars, but mostly, she was the same person she'd been before… right?

A knock on the door interrupted her brooding. Figuring it was Narcissa back with the soup, she waved the door open. In walked Severus Snape.

"Fuck," she said, rolling her good eye. "You again?"

"I missed you too," he said dryly.

"Why have you returned? Forget something?"

"Only a bit of information your sister insisted I share with you."

"Can't she share it with me herself when she's done making soup?"

Snape leaned back against the closed bedroom door, regarding her carefully. "Not Narcissa."

Now Bellatrix was interested. She sat up straighter, wondering if Snape knew that she'd been in touch with her other younger sister, afraid he might know what Andromeda knew – or, more accurately, terrified he would know that Andromeda knew.

"Her daughter and the werewolf have reunited," said Snape, as if disinterested. "I believe you know that they're expecting."

"Why would Andromeda think I'd care about this?" asked Bellatrix, careful not to give any indication that Snape was correct.

"She sent me with a message for you."

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "When you said you had information my sister insisted you share with me, I figured that meant she sent you with a message. I'm not an idiot."

"You're not?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "News to me."

"Bugger off you big-nosed bat."

"If you don't want to hear it…" began Snape, turning as if to go, Bellatrix stopped him.

"Nonsense. You came all this way."

"All this way from the kitchen," said Snape. "I could just as easily…"

"What's my fucking message?"

He tsked. "So impatient. Fine. Andromeda wants you to know that her daughter and the werewolf have reunited. As you are aware, your niece is pregnant. As you may or may not be aware, your sister is terrified that you seek to murder your aforementioned niece."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Bellatrix. "That metamorphmagus Mudblood almost murdered my husband the night we took down Mad-Eye Moody. She deserves to die for that alone."

"Your beloved husband," murmured Snape. "Yes, I'm sure you'd have been heartbroken had he succumbed to his injuries."

"That's not the point."

"It so rarely is," said Snape, again leaning suspiciously casually against the door. "In any case, your sister has asked me to inform you that, should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor. She did not, in case you're curious, tell me what this secret is, but she seemed to think you'd be most disinterested in sharing whatever it is with the whole Wizarding World."

"She agreed to shut up about it," said Bellatrix.

"Did she make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"No, but she promised."

He scoffed. "A promise? Perhaps that was before Death Eaters returned to her home."

"What?"

Bellatrix knew Death Eaters had briefly tortured her sister and brother-in-law for information at the end of the summer, but she'd heard nothing about them being sent back. Why would the Dark Lord send anyone else to Andromeda's home – and why wouldn't Bellatrix know about it?

"Yesterday," said Snape. "You were otherwise occupied. They were looking for the werewolf, having just learned of the end of the couple's estrangement. I was among those sent."

"You told me you weren't here yesterday because you had pressing business at Hogwarts!" Bellatrix pointed a finger at him accusingly. He shrugged.

"I did indeed have pressing business at Hogwarts," he said. "I took an hour away from that to call upon your sister, as per our Master's orders."

"Stop calling her my sister. She has a name."

"Mrs. Tonks," Snape corrected.

"Not that name! Call her Andromeda."

"If you wish. I was among those sent to see Andromeda. Dolohov hit her with the Cruciatus curse the moment we were inside her house –"

Bellatrix interjected. "How did you get in? I told… I… she should have protective wards in place."

"She does. Once they were broken and we were inside, Dolohov aimed for her. Your niece – excuse me, Nympadora – entered then and disarmed him. Hortensia raised her wand -"

Bellatrix cut him off. "Hortensia was there too?"

"Perhaps the Dark Lord thought the task required a woman's touch."

Bellatrix scowled. She loathed the way he emphasized 'touch.' "Continue."

"Hortensia raised her wand, but Andromeda said, 'I wouldn't if I were you.' She looked to me, I held up a hand to pause the others, and we waited to hear what she had to say."

Bellatrix leaned forward, even though doing so pained her, and whispered, "What did she have to say?"

"Weren't you listening earlier, you dolt? She said 'should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor.' I thought I was perfectly clear."

"What did Hortensia and Dolohov think she meant?"

"I don't think they had a clue, but I did. So I told her we came seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the werewolf. Tonks – Nympadora – assured us that he, like her father, is on the run so they couldn't tell us where to find him even if they wanted to, but she couldn't stop herself from adding that she wouldn't tell us even if she knew. Hortensia and Dolohov were itching to play a little longer, perhaps work out a bit of pent-up aggression, but I told them the Dark Lord would be most displeased should Andromeda make good on her threat, so we left."

Bellatrix was fuming. The Dark Lord had been right. Her 'condition,' and knowledge thereof, made her a weakness for their side. She sent a sideways glance at the black box He'd sent with Draco. Surely knowing this would make Him angry.

"I did not tell this to the Dark Lord," Snape said. He had a knack for knowing what she was thinking, even without exercising his Legillemency skills. "Rather, I advised Nympadora to stay out of our way, then, before departing, altered the memories of both Hortensia and Dolohov so they believe that we tortured both women for some time."

"Why? And why tell me this now? Why not earlier?"

"I wasn't planning to tell you this at all, as I figured it would only make your blood-lust for your niece greater."

Bellatrix flushed. He was right. The way her sister was choosing to use her secret made her want to inflict pain on both of them, and what better way than by killing young Tonks?

"I've just come from a discussion with the Dark Lord during which He mentioned you," said Snape. Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, you said you were down in the kitchen."

Snape sighed. "I had a discussion with the Dark Lord. When He released me, I felt hungry. I went down to the kitchen briefly, ate, and am now here."

"What did He say about me?"

"He wants you to be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

"Murder Nymphadora Tonks."

Bellatrix's stomach twisted painfully into a pretzel. She was figuratively trapped between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. She couldn't defy a direct order from her Master, but she couldn't risk the world learning her secret either. The only way it could be done would be if she also killed Andromeda. Her own sister. Could she do that? Could she end the very existence of the little girl who used to beg, "Bewwatwix, watch me!" and wait on tenterhooks for the inevitable applause and "good job"?

Yes.

Yes, if she had to, she could.

What was family but blood?

And what good was blood if it wasn't pure?

Certainly, she could take away Andromeda's "Miracle Baby."

And, if she had to, she could take away Andromeda's life.

"I wouldn't," said Snape, again as if reading her thoughts. This time, though, he was staring at her eyes, and she wondered if reading her thoughts was exactly what he'd done.

"Why not?"

"Nymphadora is pregnant. The same sort of magic that protected Harry Potter as a baby might also protect your niece's unborn child. The Killing Curse could backfire on you. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

She shook her head, disappointed and frustrated. "What of Andromeda?"

"If you were to kill her, surely her daughter would come after you, and then what? Then risk the Killing Curse rebounding? Is that wise… in your condition?"

Her condition.

Damn it.

She was so sick of the words "Your condition."

"I told the Dark Lord that it would not be wise for you to target Nymphadora at this time. He understands and agrees. In His words, 'We shall leave the Metamorph be, for now.' I thought it was necessary to share this with you, though for the record, I do not enjoy meddling in your family affairs."

"Why wouldn't that same magic protect me?" asked Bellatrix. "The Killing Curse could not rebound on me because of… my condition."

"It was love that saved Harry Potter and it would be love that could save Baby Werewolf. Can you say for certain your baby would benefit from the same protection? Is your baby carried in love? Was your baby created through love?"

"None of your damn business," she snapped, but she was bothered by this more than she'd ever admit. Love. Did she love her baby? Yes. Yes, of course. She loved it because she loved Him and it was His and hers together. But was it created in love?

One-sided love, perhaps.

She doubted that would be enough.

"Have a lovely afternoon," said Snape, reaching for the door handle. "I don't expect I'll be seeing you again soon. Shall I send Narcissa up now with the soup? I believe she put onions in it."

"I hate onions," pouted Bellatrix.

"Narcissa says they're good for your eyes."

"What?" Bellatrix let out an exasperated sigh. "No, she's an imbecile. It's carrots that are good for your eyes. Onions are good for shit."

"I thought kale was good for that? Leafy greens are a high source of fiber."

"I didn't mean… damn it, Snape. I meant onions are good for nothing!"

Snape was chuckling at his own joke. Bellatrix threw a pillow at him. It landed about a foot from his feet.

"Whatever she put in it," said Snape, gently tossing the pillow back onto the bed, "Eat it and pretend to like it. She's working very hard to throw together something edible. The least you could do is be grateful."

"Grateful? I'll probably die of food poisoning."

Snape shrugged, still half-smiling. "Well, one could only hope."

Before she could formulate a clever response to that, he had gone.

While waiting for Narcissa and whatever awful concoction she'd brewed (seriously, onions in soup? Unless the soup was French onion soup, onions were never an acceptable soup ingredient, and even then, only the cheese was truly worth eating) she replayed Snape's questions over and over again in her head.

If she were attacked, if her baby were to be attacked, would there be any magical protections?

Was her baby going to be born from love?

Was it created from love?

Hell, could the Dark Lord Voldemort even feel love?

She sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep, but sleep was not forthcoming. Too many thoughts reverberated around in her mind, none of them welcome.

Bellatrix had considered her feelings toward the Dark Lord "love at first sight" (technically, more like "lust at first sight" and "love at first fuck") and thought (well, hoped) that He shared her feelings based on their intense initial connection, but it wasn't until shortly before Christmas of that first year she thought she knew how He felt about her. It was around then, during a Hogsmeade visit she snuck away from to be with Him, that He began asking questions about her past experiences with the opposite sex, wanting to know all about her, informing her that she now belonged to Him and could be with no other.

"I don't belong to anyone," she'd said defiantly, but immediately following her statement she insisted that He was the only one she wanted, needed, or had ever had… willingly.

He, being curious, probed her mind (with permission) using His Legellemency skills, and discovered the most recent incident with her stepfather, which had occurred over summer break. The Dark Lord watched her memory as she walked in on a tall, average-sized middle-aged man with facial stubble kissing and petting a silently sobbing blonde of about twelve or thirteen. Bellatrix flew into a rage and cursed him, a crime of underage magic as she was still two weeks from 17, and he responded by physically taking her wand away.

The man shouted for the little blonde to leave and slapped her when she didn't move fast enough. He then pinned Bellatrix down on the bottom bunk of the bed that had just been vacated by her sister. He groped her, attempting to kiss her neck, but she fought back, digging her nails into his cheeks.

Even though she had yet to study a moment of Occlumency, Bellatrix instinctively attempted to push Him from her mind. The future Lord Voldemort relented, but questioned her thoroughly.

"What did he do to you?"

"That was it," Bellatrix said. "He tried to pull my hands away but then my sister Andromeda came in and started screaming for Mother. When I tried to tell Mother what happened she accused me of attempting to seduce her husband."

(That was only the first of many times their mother made this particular accusation.)

Appearing confused, the Dark Lord sought clarification. "That was your mother's husband?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix, tossing her hair back, hoping it seemed that she was not at all bothered by the fact that He'd just witnessed a slice of a decade of abuse that she never intended to reveal to anyone, least of all Him. "My stepfather."

"No," said the Dark Lord, shaking His head. Damn, He was so handsome then, before war took its toll, before He had become entirely focused on quest to achieve immortality. "No, this won't do. We can't have that. Who was the little blonde? Andromeda?"

She'd previously told Him about Andromeda.

"No, Andromeda is fifteen. That was my youngest sister, Narcissa."

"Narcissa." He hissed her name as if speaking Parseltongue, which gave Bellatrix goose pimples, but not in a bad way. "Where is your stepfather now?"

"At home, I suppose." She stepped away from Him, unwilling to make further eye contact, feeling absolutely humiliated by his knowledge of her greatest secret, her secret shame. "In three days He's supposed to be taking Andromeda Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. She's dreading it. Mother's forcing her to go."

He stepped to Bellatrix, sliding His arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against Him so her back rested flat against His chest. She could feel His breath on her ear. "In three days. Why isn't she in school?"

"She was sick." Bellatrix hugged her arms around His, happy to be so close. "She nearly died."

"He touches you? All of you?" asked the Dark Lord. Despite the comfort of His arms around her, she could feel fury radiating from Him.

Bellatrix stared straight ahead at the bedroom wall, too ashamed to answer.

"He touches you." This time it was a statement. "Has he done more? Was I your first?"

"You were my first," she confirmed, turning, pressing her chest to His, making eye contact. "He's never raped us. He says he likes that we're virgins."

"You were," the Dark Lord corrected. "You were a virgin. Now you're mine and I'll not share. I told you that you belong to me, didn't I?"

"You told me."

"That means you're mind. And I don't share what's mine."

Catching a glimpse of the concern on her face, He smiled. "Don't worry, Bellatrix Black. Your master will take care of things."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

He tipped her chin up, lightly rubbing His thumb over her bottom lip, then captured her mouth with His own. Then He took her to bed, claimed her as His own, and held her until the sun rose through the curtains. She knew she'd be in trouble for disappearing from Hogwarts overnight, she knew it would likely mean she'd lose the privilege of visiting Hogsmeade and a January full of detention, but she had no regrets.

It was the first time she'd truly felt safe in over ten years.

29 years ago He murdered Stepfather in front of Andromeda and in all these years since, Bellatrix never wavered in her devotion. Now suddenly she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew.

She didn't believe Him to be infallible. This was evidenced by the fact that He so vehemently trusted Snape, which she believed was a mistake, no matter what her Master and her sister and her brother-in-law insisted about the former potions master's loyalties, and despite the fact that he'd just today lied to the Dark Lord to protect her (or, perhaps, to protect her niece and sister. With him playing both sides, she couldn't be sure).

She also feared that the Dark Lord's advancing age (he was now a week away from 72) was impacting His decision-making abilities. Why hadn't He killed Harry Potter right away in the graveyard? Immediately after extracting his blood? How had He let the boy escape?

And at the Ministry over a year ago, why had it taken so long for Him to arrive? Sure, at first they were merely battling six teenagers in an attempt to steal a prophecy, but sure He must have known when the Order showed up that they would be outnumbered and potentially over-powered. Where was He? And when He finally arrived, He failed to kill Dumbledore – a fact Narcissa had accidently blurted out when begging Snape to protect Draco from the task – and He didn't even try to save any of His other loyal followers.

At the time, she'd been pleased by this. Upon His arrival she immediately began to beg forgiveness, and before disapparating away, He grabbed her and her alone to take with Him. That night He'd been furious. Lucius and the others were in Azkaban, everyone knew He was back but not at all in the way He'd planned, and He'd been thwarted yet again by Harry Potter. He was unable to obtain the prophecy, a considerable setback, and He had no one to punish for it, save for her.

But He didn't. To her surprise, He directed His anger toward Narcissa and Draco as wife and son of Lucius, and not toward Bellatrix, who'd actually been one of those who'd failed to complete the task. Instead that night He praised her, saying that she and Severus were the only two He could truly count on. As much as she hated hearing Snape's name listed alongside her own, she was encouraged by His lack of punishment and so she made love with Him for the first time since He'd freed her from Azkaban six months earlier. For a year while her husband, his brother, and her sister's husband were locked up, she lived quite contentedly, spending most nights in the embrace of the Dark Lord.

When the mass exodus from Azkaban occurred a year later, the Dark Lord was thrilled. It signified his control over the Ministry and it also meant He had most of His best servants returned to Him. But secretly, she hated it, because it meant a return to the bed she shared with her husband in a guest room of Malfoy Manor.

And as long as she was thinking about times He'd disappointed her lately, how was it He'd managed to lose Harry Potter yet again when Nagini was possessing Bathilda Bagshot? Two kids against the greatest dark wizard of all time?

A knock sounded. Bellatrix waved the door open. It was Narcissa, finally bringing soup.

"It's got vegetables in it," she said, placing the bowl on her sister's bedside table. She also set down a plate of what smelled like garlic bread. but looked a tad too toasty.

"My cooking gets better all the time," said Narcissa, as if seeking approval, in the same tone she'd used as a girl when pleading Watch me! "I practice in the kitchen whenever Lucius is out." Lucius did not believe his wife belonged in the kitchen. Cooking was the work of house-elves and commoners. "I'll leave you alone to eat. I have to go to Christmas dinner with Lucius and Draco and… and possibly You-Know-Who, should He join us. But I'll be back after dessert."

"Thank you," said Bellatrix. "It looks good."

Narcissa smiled, partially pleased and partially relieved, then kissed Bellatrix on the forehead. "Have a house-elf fetch me if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," Bella assured her. It was the truth. The healing salve and potion for her throat seemed to be working, speaking wasn't as difficult or painful as it had been hours earlier, and though her head was a jumbled mess, there was an odd sort of peace in knowing she'd be sleeping alone, since Rodolphus was bunking with his brother.

After Narcissa made her exit, Bellatrix looked longingly at the black box, unwilling to give into the temptation of opening it, unsure how long she could hold off from doing so.

As she ate, a different memory implanted itself in her brain. A happy one.

The first night they were together after He'd broken her out of Azkaban nearly two years ago.

"I've missed you," He hissed against her earlobe, just before his lipless mouth and snakelike tongue began making its way from the side of her neck, down her clavicle, to the top of her breast, to the lace of her corset. She moaned as he touched her. It had been fourteen years since she'd last been touched.

Though she was desperate for Him and sensed it was mutual, He seemed to be in no hurry to undress her, instead taking His time as if He needed to relearn every curve of her body. By the time they were naked, she was writhing uncomfortably against Him, needing Him, practically begging Him.

"Please, please, take me, my Lord…"

"Patience," He'd whispered. "I want to enjoy you."

He entered her first with His fingers as she dug her fingernails into His back, again begging Him to take her. He laughed.

"Still my Bellatrix," He said. "So wanton. Have you missed me?"

"Every moment, my Lord. I looked for you. I alone…"

"You alone knew I would return. You alone never wavered in your loyalty."

"Never, never my Lord. I knew you would… I knew you… would…"

As He sped up the motion with His fingers, she found it increasingly difficult to utter a coherent thought. With the hand that was not now scratching across His shoulder blades, she stroked His length, faster and faster.

"Fuck," He said, an unusual (Muggle-esque) word for Him. He grabbed her thighs, parting them, and plunged into her. "My Bella," He moaned into her thick, unkempt hair. "Mine."

"Yes," she replied over and over in between kissing His neck, His shoulder, His cheek, kissing Him though she was hardly able to breathe. "Yes… yes…"

He slid one of His hands back down and played with her as He fucked her. She felt her orgasm building, the first one in over fourteen years, and the anticipation made her dizzy. He kissed her and she felt the overwhelming waves of satisfaction ripple over her. He finished a moment later, never slowing His stride, and, like always, rolled onto His back, pulling her to rest on top of Him, and said, "You belong to me."

She couldn't say it. She couldn't say "Yes." But she also couldn't say "No." So instead, she placed a kiss in the direct center of His chest and answered, "I love you."

He didn't say it back, but that was okay. She felt loved.

Her soup finished (she couldn't even recall tasting it) Bellatrix picked up the small black box. Whether it would bring her joy or pain no longer mattered. She needed to know what was inside.

She slipped off the top.

Inside, a smaller box.

She opened that one.

Resting atop cloudy gauze, was a thin silver band.

A ring.

Her heart fluttered in that uncomfortable way it had taken to doing lately.

A ring?

But she was married.

And He'd always said…

She removed it. It felt cold to the touch, but made her fingers, hand, and arm go warm. It was thin and silver with one large green stone flanked by two smaller green stones – they looked like emeralds. Silver and green: Slytherin colors, of course.

Inside the top of the second box were six words: I do not enjoy hurting you.

As close to an apology as she would ever get.

She held the ring up, wondering whether she should put it on, wondering on which finger she should wear it and what to say if anyone asked about it. A reflection in the band caught her eye. There was an inscription.

She read it twice. The first time, she laughed. The second, she nodded.

Inside the ring in thin script, it said, "You belong to me."

Unable to collect her thoughts, she slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Once it was on all the way, she felt a new tingling sensation, this time in her opposite forearm. Her Dark Mark was raised and visible. She alone was being summoned. She stood, which wasn't easy, and quickly combed her fingers through her hair. The Dark Mark burned deeper, almost painfully. She needed to go to Him.

Now.

You belong to me, it said inside the ring.

Yes.

As much as she tried to deny it, as long as she tried to deny it, it was true.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, hovering the tip of her wand above her forearm. "I belong to you. Forever."

She touched the tip of her wand to the Mark and disappeared.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with Part Two of the Augury Origin Tale trilogy! The third, DYING FOR THE DARK LORD, is being posted NOW, which will answer any lingering questions you might have after this one. If you're a Snape/Bella shipper you may like the second and third chapters... or maybe you won't. As I said in a reply to one review, this story is definitely Bellatrix/Voldemort. Hope that's okay! Please read/enjoy.

Because I kinda fell for Narcissa during the drafting of these three stories, I have decided to give her her own story, tentatively titled WANTING NARCISSA: An Augury Origin Spinoff, which will explain, among other things, the scene between her and Snape after she presided over the Unbreakable Vow, but beginning far earlier, at Spinner's End (it's not a romance, though there is some smut/lemony stuff included. Mostly it's like this one - dark, sort of sad, with details about her childhood, her relationships with her sisters, her marriage, and the weird connection all three Black sisters seem to have with Snape). Fingers crossed you'll be interested in that one, too.

Thanks for the follows faves, and reviews. *AL