A/N: I know, I am an awful person. I've been planning to post this since the beggining of August but I was never truly satisfied by it. And then I suffered a small accident and broke a bunch of bones of my left leg and I am stuck in a wheelchair for a while and it sucks. But, now, with a help from pain killers and a handful of ice, I am updating this.

It's not the last chapter – I still need to tie a few loose ends. I think there will be about two more and an epilogue. I hope to update until the 28th of September, but it might change if I have to get surgery. But I'll not go on another long hiatus because I have sketched the next chapters and all.

Thank you for you patience and I apologise again.

Lots of love.

-xox-

You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.

He had left her soon after claiming her. She did not cry, no, Bellatrix was not scared of the place in which she was being settled again. Now that she had revealed herself to the Dark Lord she had nothing to fear, because she had waited for so long – no, she had never hoped, she never considered this lightness in her future, the lightness of being accepted.

Beggining to understand herself and what have happened, Bella started to sort out her thoughts. The memories, the past... Her father.

Oh, that had not driven her lord away – that sickening secret. A sickening secret?, she mused, must have been about a hundred of them.

Surely her family had a lot of skeletons in the closet.

But that had not driven her lord away. And, most of all, it hadn't stopped her. Oh, yes, that was a fear that had been overcome. For she could give herself entirely to the Dark Lord without losing herself into her own distress, without reopening the wounds.

"You should see me now, father" she murmured, a victorius grin spreading on her face. "You should see me now, I should have let you live so you could watch me being free from you."

Free from him, but not free. No, she did not want to be free.

-xox-

Things such as failure, thought Voldemort, are blinding. He could see his Bella now – if he had known before, maybe he wouldn't have resisted such a temptation. She was completely loyal to him, because she loved him. And that was a much more welcome thought that he had considered it to ever be. It was desired – if her love was complete, she would be his. Completely. That was the sensation of holding someone's life and fate in your hands.

Completely.

This crossed his mind as he entered back in her chambers, and he smirked in his snake-like manner. Bellatrix loved him to submission and oblivion and loyalty.

"My lord?" she said, looking up at him. She herself seemed satisfied – he could sense her recovery. She was changing every minute, growing, sprouting. It was intoxicating, that fullness of her temper now that she was slowly coming back to this reality, not to the created reality that she and Narcissa has created for her to endure.

"Can we talk, Bella? I am..." his voice was smooth and flawless. "Intrigued."

"Yes, of course, anything you want, my lord."

That was good, this obligency. For she was still bound to his will, whether her newly-formed soul wanted it or not.

"How long have you known?" he sat in the bed, by her, letting his eyes wander, appraisingly, in her figure. That seemed to be changing, too – though it would take it time for it to recover it's bloom, if it ever did. It was not the experiences of the past days, but the prison, the constant fighting that was consuming her, that was eating her from inside out. But she held something that was even more valuable than youthful beauty.

"Since always, I think... I cannot remember. I suppose it started with admiration..." she said earnestly, focusing, motioning backwards.

"Oh, yes, I do recall that you worshipped me." He never had doubts about that, and her memories showed that it was even more intense than what he had thought.

"Always have, always will. Since the beggining. I used to hide and hear my parents talk, or even go after Abraxas Malfoy when he was home, just to get information. I wanted that change... The wizarding world needs it. Needs you, my lord." Her voice was breathy, in that purr that she had always used when talking to her lord. A lover's caress.

"It shall have it, Bella..." he replied, satisfied.

"Yes, I know, my lord – you will conquer it, fully."

He smirked once again, then tapping against the bed.

"Why did you kill him, Bella?"

The Dark Lord could sense her tension once again, and the way she shyly looked up at him from behind her eyelashes was a disturbing sight. That was not his Bellatrix, but some other that he did not want to see again, a scared prey. But she did not avoid him, licking her lips slowly.

"I needed closure." It's a very clear statement. "I needed to make sure my sisters were safe, I needed to... I needed closure." She repeats, weakly.

He moved his hand so it rested on top of hers. An uncharacteristic warm gesture – though he was not doing it for her sake. He was the one that could not bear a babbling, frightened Bellatrix, for that tested his patience more than anything else.

"No one else calls you Trixie."

She trembled. He withdrew her hand.

"I hate that. It was... always his name for me." her whisper was poisoned.

"For me, you are Bella..." and then he suddenly chuckled, a dry chuckle that would frighten less brave wizards than Lestrange. "Bellatrix when you fail me."

Her smile was weak and tentative, because that are certain lines that no one wanted to cross when it came to the Dark Lord.

"Your husband sent you an owl." And there he was again, very serious, very threatening – the most powerful wizard of all times. "You should write him whenever you feel like it."

"Yes, my lord, I shall do it."

"Do you remember your honeymoon, Bella?" he asked – Rudolphus' terrified gaze still lingering in his thoughts. Voldemort was not someone who liked not knowing.

"...Barely, I... I have a small, fuzzy memory of it, my lord."

She breathed slowly, glancing away again.

"Azakaban takes everything out of you, my lord."

He nodded.

"It was not like we could talk, and try to keep eachother company and sanity. It was worse to see the other fall."

"What more about Azkaban, Bella?" His servant had to open herself completely – he hadn't asked because that was Azkaban, and it was sickening and maddening and people rot there. But nothing would slip anymore: fear, desire, love or dirt.

And then her voice changed, getting high-pitched and raw:

"I thought I was actually deranged – there is a thin line between what's wishful thinking and what is hallucinating. There was a thread of hope that no one could crush, but there was also a lurking shadow, painful, sorrounding you and whispering about the many meaning of dying." She licked her lips. "I just... shut everything down, and now I can't get it back."

"And, yet, you remember me." he stated, simply.

She nodded.

"...It's different, my lord."

He leaned back a bit, inquiring her with his eyes – if he was indeed interested or if he had an ulterior motive she couldn't tell.

"Rudolphus has been with you since always, and yet you forget him. But you remember me." He rolled this words around, not sounding smug, but almost like that. Oh, the deliciousness of having someone that was bound to your every will.

"He is my best friend – always has been." Her voice was pleading. Don't humiliate me.

"And I am your loved one. The one you would follow everywhere." I won't.

"Yes, my lord. Through hell." Please.

He let her approach and inhale his scent, his hands on her arms, her face in a glow of pride and joy and submission. And he traced her lips with his fingers, and then her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders—and she burned, because he was claiming her and it was intimate and exquisite and it was not love, and he was accepting her.

"Tell me, Bellatrix." He demanded, pulling her towards him.

"I love you." The witch breathed – and the little Trixie disappeared, Bellatrix was back and she was hot and rough and at his mercy. "I will follow you forever. Do with whatever you want with me, my lord."

And she leaned more into him.

Yes, please. Please fix me, my lord.