Drawing herself up by the strength of her forearms, Bellatrix looked straight into the unmoving eyes of her dark master and spoke from memory the words that she had painstakingly memorized, infused now with a passion that threatened to unnerve her at each new phrase.

"I pledge myself to the Dark Lord, to see his will and his will alone done regardless of the cost. His desires are mine, and for their achievement I will ever strive. My wand is his to command; my death alone will release me from his service."

Breathless, she bowed her head and awaited dismissal. As Voldemort rose to tower over her once more, she felt a momentary pang of fear and in her mind she pored over the last few moments, desperate to discover a flaw in her oath that might taint the Dark Lord's impression of her devotion.

Voldemort felt the displeasure of his followers and heard, without aid of Occlumency, the echoes of indignation repeated in each man's mind. To the thoughts of Rodolphus he turned, but his mind was oddly silent save for what must have been the beginnings of a grudging respect for his future bride.

"Stand, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, his voice suddenly resonant in this vast space. His Death Eaters looked to one another with inquiring glances, but as Bellatrix straightened his face was all she could see.

"Your arm," he commanded, his voice soft as he reached for her wrist and drew his wand from his cloak. The stunned silence that pervaded the room as his followers realized what was to come was satisfying, and he did not wait for Bellatrix to fully raise her left arm before grabbing it and throwing back the full sleeve to expose the bare, pale skin beneath.

Placing the tip of his wand against her flesh, Voldemort unleashed the fullness of his gaze on the bewildered witch, and as his will stripped away the barricades of her mind he felt an unbridled hunger screaming to be sated. He held her captivated in his unblinking stare as he pressed his wand roughly against her fore-arm and murmured words too quiet to be perceived.

All at once Bellatrix knew a pain unlike any she had ever known. Bursting forth from the end of Voldemort's wand, the crippling agony of hot lead in her veins spread throughout her body and left in its wake a numbness just as sudden that left her breathless and unsteady. The Dark Lord's grip on her wrist was all that kept her upright.

Twenty pairs of eyes looked to the spot where Voldemort's wand had pressed against Bellatrix's arm. Against a backdrop of alabaster, the black form of a snake weaving its way through the mouth of a skull stood out like a sentinel, the long body of the serpent writhing as spasms ravaged the young witch's body. The Dark Lord smiled inwardly at the finality this act marked in the minds of his Death Eaters, and knew that even now they were acclimating themselves to the impossibility of a woman in their ranks.

Bellatrix's eyelids fluttered as she tried to make sense of her surroundings, her countenance clearing as though she were being released from a heavy trance. Dragging her right hand through her hair, she struggled for words that would not come and as she sank to the ground to kneel before her master, she was astonished to feel his restraining grip on her wrist forcing her to remain on her feet.

"Come, Bella," Voldemort said, leading her across the dais, "and sit by my side." With a swipe of his wand he sent a lanky, greasy-haired wizard crouching nearest to the center of the dais yelping in pain. To this vacant spot to the right of the throne he led her, and as he settled into the chair he knew that her eyes never ceased in following his every move.

As the Death Eaters reported to their lord, news of Mudbloods and of Ministry breaches, Bellatrix tried to make sense of the change that had altered the very core of her being. Slumped against the side of the throne she endeavored for clarity, all the while thinking to herself how wonderful it could be to forever stay His "Bella."