June 1968

"Acus Religo." Bellatrix aimed her wand at the needle on the desk before her and watched it morph and transform. It blackened and shifted in heft and shape until it was a little black button. She looked around boredly to see that her classmates were struggling mightily with the needle-to-button work. Honestly, Bellatrix didn't know why McGonagall had given them brand-new spells in the last week before revisions for final exams began. Probably, the witch wanted to show Dumbledore a good stern persona in her first year as Head of Transfiguration. After all, McGonagall was just past thirty, and Dumbledore himself was fresh in the Headmaster's office.

Still, it was annoying that the fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins had been given brand-new spells just before the end of term. So, even though she was having less trouble with the work than just about anyone else, Bellatrix called over her shoulder,

"Professor McGonagall? I've got a question."

McGonagall looked rather suspicious, but she approached Bellatrix's desk, her emerald raw silk robes swishing around her.

"Yes, Miss Black?" she trilled, and Bellatrix asked in a very serious voice,

"Why would I ever need this spell?"

McGonagall narrowed her pale eyes. "I beg your pardon, Miss Black?"

"Well." Bellatrix picked up the button and shrugged. "What am I meant to do with this? I've just gotten rid of my needle. In order to sew on a button, you need a needle. And what good's a needle without a button? Aren't they sort of interdependent? What's the real-world application for this spell?"

A few of the Slytherins in the room tittered, and the Gryffindors went quiet. McGonagall calmly adjusted her hold on her own wand and plucked the button from Bellatrix's hand. She cleared her throat softly and murmured,

"Textus Byssus."

A scrap of cream-coloured cotton fabric materialised in the air, and as it fluttered into her hand, McGonagall folded it carefully. She placed it onto the desk in front of Bellatrix and gave her a meaningful look. She walked over to a desk with two Gryffindor girls and picked up the button they'd been working with, carried the button to Bellatrix's desk, and set it down. Then she tapped the button with her wand and incanted,

"Religo Acus."

She'd performed the reverse of the Transfiguration spell Bellatrix had done; the button turned back into a needle. Once it did, McGonagall picked up Bellatrix's button and began stitching it onto the fabric. As she did, she said in her nasally Scottish brogue,

"Miss Black, there may come a time in your life where you've got a travelling cloak with a missing button, and you've got a drawer full of needles. Or you may have a bowl full of buttons, and nary a needle in sight to stitch them on. Or you may just be sloppy with a Stitching Charm. In any case, my dear, I think you'll find that Transfiguration has been a subject at Hogwarts for a thousand years for very good reason, and that this particular spell has appeared on N.E.W.T. exams for centuries not by coincidence. Any other questions?"

She picked up the fabric with the button stitched on and handed it to Bellatrix, who nonverbally Vanished it and shook her head.

"No, Professor," she said in a surly tone. "No other questions."

"Wonderful. I saw you perform the spell. Full marks, Miss Black." McGonagall walked away briskly, off toward a table of two Slytherin girls who were giggling like mad. Once she was out of earshot, one of the Gryffindor girls at the nearby table muttered,

"My God; she's a colossal bitch!"

"Josephine!" laughed the girl beside her. Bellatrix scowled at the first girl, a tall, skinny blonde with pimples all over her already freckled face. Josephine Glass, she was called. A Mudblood Gryffindor. Bellatrix curled her lip up as the other girl, Rhonda, asked softly,

"You don't mean McGonagall?"

"No!" Josephine hissed. "Bellatrix! She's a bitch! To us, to the teachers! Surprised the other Slytherins don't just -"

"I can hear you," Bellatrix snarled, and Josephine tipped her chin up as she looked over from her desk. She said nothing, and Bellatrix snorted a little laugh as she said, "You've got something on your face."

Josephine's cheeks went pink then, though it was difficult to tell. Rhonda, the other girl, looked terribly affronted, but Bellatrix shrugged.

After lessons, Rhonda and the other Gryffindors peeled off to go to the Divination Tower, whilst Josephine headed in the same direction as Bellatrix, toward a study hour in the library. Once the corridor outside the Transfiguration classroom was relatively empty, Bellatrix pulled out her wand and called,

"Josephine."

The Gryffindor girl turned round and rolled her eyes.

"What do you want, Bellatrix? An apology? You were a bitch to McGonagall."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes as she approached Josephine, and she curled up her lip in disgust. "You filthy Mudblood. How dare you try and insult me?"

Josephine rolled her eyes again, and Bellatrix scoffed,

"You do that enough, your eyeballs are liable to roll straight onto the floor. It's very unflattering, even by your hideous standards."

"You really are a bitch in general, aren't you?" Josephine said, almost in disbelief.

"Put your wand down, girl!" cried a portrait on the wall, and Bellatrix snapped,

"You shut up, or I'll tear your canvas to shreds!"

"Calm down, Bellatrix," Josephine said, sounding a little afraid now. She put her hands up and stepped back a little, and she suggested, "Let's just go to the library, eh?"

"Disgusting little worm. A Mudblood, calling me a bitch," Bellatrix whispered, her heart speeding up beyond her control. She felt heat in her ears, and her wand shook like mad in her fingers. She felt herself losing control quickly, like she was a string about to snap. She saw fear in Josephine's eyes, and the girl said softly,

"Bellatrix, I'm sorry. Let's just -"

"Crucio!" Bellatrix screamed, before she could even think about it. The word came out of her mouth on instinct, and a bolt of scarlet light snaked at once from the end of her wand. It snared like a web around Josephine Glass, sending the girl straight to the floor in a heap. Josephine shrieked, and her cries echoed off the stone walls. She writhed, her back arching much more harshly than was natural, and her fists clenched. One black loafer came part of the way off as her feet dragged against the stone floor, and all the while she screamed. Bellatrix felt a flush of strange pleasure as the red light glowed.

"BELLATRIX BLACK! Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix whirled round as her wand went flying out of her hand, whizzing through the air toward Minerva McGonagall, who stood in the centre of the corridor in open-mouthed horror.

"How could you do this? How could you bring this shame on our family?" Druella Black paced like a rat in the spacious, elegantly-decorated dark blue parlour of the Black family home in London. She put her hands to her head and sobbed for a moment. She'd been doing that ever since she and Cygnus Black had come to Hogwarts to fetch their expelled daughter.

Bellatrix was numb by now. She'd been given her wand back, since they weren't legally allowed to keep it until the Wizengamot handed down a sentence. She wouldn't go to Azkaban, of course, since she was still sixteen. That was her saving grace, her father had said. If it had been three months later, they'd have sentenced her to a Dementor's Kiss. Now, if she was lucky, she'd have her wand permanently confiscated and would have to live forever like a Squib. She would never step foot in Hogwarts again.

Narcissa had cried like a toddler in a tantrum when she'd been given the news. She'd acted like Bellatrix had been killed. For her part, Andromeda had been furious. Bellatrix should go to prison, Andromeda had said, before she had the chance to kill someone. Bellatrix had stayed mostly silent for the last week, through all the meetings and screaming matches. She had barely felt anything. No remorse, to be certain, which was probably something she should be feeling. She didn't even really feel trepidation about losing her wand. It made sense. After all, she'd cast an Unforgivable. She merely felt as though something had happened, and now other things would happen. She was a player in an inescapable series of events.

"You have disgraced this family forever!" Druella was screaming. Cygnus approached her to try and calm her, but the petite, thin Druella, with her severely knotted hair and her antique-style gown, swatted him roughly away and snarled, "You always encouraged this cruelty in her, Cygnus! She is your daughter in this way!"

"Mum," Bellatrix sighed, feeling as though a parental argument was hardly going to help things.

Suddenly there was a rapping on the home's front door, and the manic little House-Elf, Mappy, exclaimed from the other room,

"I'll get the door, Masters!"

"Why is someone knocking on our door?" Druella demanded, swiping frantically at her tears. She aimed her wand at herself and incanted, "Blancha."

The puffy redness from crying decreased a little, and just in time. Bellatrix flew to her feet as Mappy showed in the wizard that Bellatrix had only met a few times, the wizard she knew was leading an underground movement among Purebloods. Lord Voldemort.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that she could tell had once been extremely handsome. He always looked like he was in desperate need of sleep, as though he'd been blurred somehow. It was difficult to describe; it was like some disease or loss or weariness had eaten at a profoundly good-looking man. But he was still distantly handsome, even at an age that seemed similar to her father's. He was dressed very sharply, in a high-necked set of black brocade robes that looked very expensive. He nodded as he came into the parlour, and Druella curtsied just a little to him.

"My Lord," she said. "Welcome to our home."

"Madam Black," Voldemort acknowledged. "Cygnus. Miss Black. May we talk?"

"Yes. Let's sit. Shall I have tea made?" Druella asked, and as they all took places upon the plush white furniture, Voldemort shook his head and set a leather folio down on the table before him. He looked straight at Bellatrix, and she was struck suddenly by how sharp his eyes were. They were aggressive, even just looking at her like this, and she shrank back a little.

"I hear you got yourself into a spot of trouble, Bellatrix," he said, and she nodded. She was sure he knew the story by now. He narrowed his eyes and asked bluntly, "Why did you use that particular spell?"

"It was instinct," Bellatrix said immediately, and his lips curled up a little as he nodded. He dragged his thumb over his jaw and acknowledged,

"It's not instinct for most people, you know, to use the Cruciatus Curse."

"Yes. I've been hearing that from a lot of people for the last week," Bellatrix said, and Druella hissed,

"Don't be disrespectful."

"She's fine, Druella," Voldemort said. He kept his eyes on Bellatrix and asked meaningfully,

"Did you enjoy it?"

Cygnus gasped a little, and Druella looked utterly horrified by the question, but Bellatrix smirked and nodded.

"I did, a little," she whispered, and Voldemort smiled.

"That's what I needed to hear." He picked up his folio as Druella and Cygnus stared at one another in complete shock. Voldemort said in a businesslike voice, "I have many friends in the Wizengamot. Even more friends for whom a hundred Galleons goes a long way. Between real friends and bought friends, I have more than enough influence to outweigh the likes of Dumbledore. I have managed to work out a bargain."

"A bargain, sir?" Cygnus asked, reaching for Druella's hand, and Voldemort nodded once. He pulled out a sheet of parchment from the folio and said,

"This is a plea bargain. Bellatrix confesses to using an Unforgivable as an underaged witch. In exchange, she keeps her wand - yes, I know - but, she must remain under house arrest until her nineteenth birthday, at which time she will be reassessed by the Wizengamot."

"But that seems more than fair!" Druella breathed. She grinned and patted Bellatrix's knee. "Bella, dear, you can stay here at home; I know it'll feel cramped after awhile, but -"

"No, she won't be here," Voldemort said primly. He waited for that to settle, and then he said, "I arranged this mostly for myself. As my movement gains traction, I will require soldiers whose skill not only matches but exceeds that of the Ministry's Aurors. I will require people whose instinct is to jump straight to the Cruciatus Curse."

He waited for that to settle, and as it did, Bellatrix felt a happy little smile crossing her face. She was to keep her wand? She was to be his soldier someday? A soldier in that phantom movement of which her father and his friends were a part. She trembled with excitement where she sat, and she knew that Voldemort was measuring her reaction.

"I am currently based at Malfoy Manor," he said, "so Bellatrix will be my legal ward - under the name of Tom Riddle, of course - until her reassessment by the Ministry on her nineteenth birthday. She will not be allowed to leave the grounds of Malfoy Manor, but they are spacious, and she will have private living quarters. You may visit whenever you wish, with written notice. Obviously, she can't do any magic at all until her birthday in September, and after that, no Hexes, Jinxes, or Curses - her wand will be inspected. I must provide regular updates on her behaviour to the Ministry, and every three months, she'll have to meet with a case manager from Magical Law Enforcement. I'll escort her to those meetings."

"So you're to be like her parent?" Druella seemed very confused. "We're her parents."

"No. I'm going to be her legal guardian until her sentence is over," Voldemort said stiffly, "so that I can train her properly to be my soldier. I hope everything is clear now. This is really not up for discussion, Madam Black. The other option is permanent wand seizure, with the possibility of a short Azkaban sentence once she comes of age."

Druella gasped a little, and Cygnus bowed his head. Bellatrix choked out a little laugh and said loudly,

"Well, I don't mind living in Malfoy Manor and training and reporting to the Ministry! I don't mind that!"

Voldemort laughed softly and set down the parchment on the table. He pulled a solid steel self-inking quill out of the inner pocket of his robes and set it down, and he said,

"Well, I need everyone's signatures. I have already signed. I do think this is the best outcome of this situation for everyone involved. Bellatrix, why don't you go pack your things? I'll take this paperwork over to the Ministry, and then… well, I'll show you to your new abode."

Bellatrix's hand shook around the cold steel quill as she signed her name to the confession agreement, and then the parchment agreeing to be Tom Riddle's ward, and then the parchment agreeing to the arrangements about house arrest and Ministry check-ins. She panted slightly, feeling overwhelmed, as she handed the quill and the papers back to Lord Voldemort.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he nodded.

"I'll be back soon."

Author's Note: Awwww, yeah. New Bellamort fic. Who's up for this crazy ride? I am so looking forward to this one, I have to tell you. :} Obviously, she's still sixteen, and this one will not have anything explicit until she is of age (17 in the Wizarding World)! BUT! That doesn't mean we can't spend some time building up some veeeeeeeeeeeery graaaaaaaaaadual tension. Mwah hahahahahaha. I have so many ideas for this story - seriously, I'm sitting here giggling just thinking about it.

Hope you read along as I write, and PLEASE take a moment to leave a review if you get a chance as you're reading. The feedback is greatly appreciated.