One second the room was quiet, and the next second, two people apparated. These two could be considered the two most dreadful wizards of the current British community.
The Dark Lord himself and his most trusted and, at the same time, insane Death Eater.
Bellatrix Black.
Both were back from their little adventure at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. And once again, Bellatrix's emotions were in turmoil. Just like when Voldemort took her from Azkaban to Diagon Alley, the journey from the bank to here(wherever they were) was also too intimate for Bellatrix.
Not that she complained, of course. This time, their positions were different. There was no holding hands or Voldemort's hand on her bottom. Instead, when it was time to leave the bank, the dark Lord got behind Bellatrix, his hands serpent around her stomach, holding her into his embrace. Her supreme being placed his face next to hers.
The way his cool hands had pressed against her stomach through the thin fabric of her robes…
The way his cold breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck…
The solid weight of his chest against her back… and best of all, the unmistakable press of his hips against the curve of her backside. Bellatrix let out a moan. "My lord…"
Salazar's beard. This was heavenly. Torturous. Perfect.
If she knew that the reward for spending so many years in Azkaban would lead to this, Bellatrix would have gladly accepted being a prisoner. For how long she had desired the Lord. But there was a bridge still separating them that Voldemort was not aware of. Of course, how could her Lord even think of such a thing? She did nothing to truly deserve such attention. Still, she wanted him to do more. To take her, use her as he wishes. Could she really demand more?
As if her Lord answered her prayer, Voldemort took the tension to the next level.
His hips rolled slowly, deliberately, grinding against her once. She responded by pushing her hip against his.
One of his hands slid slowly upward, fingers splaying possessively just beneath the swell of her breasts, while the other remained low on her stomach, pressing her back more firmly against him. "Just a little bit upward, my Lord." Bellatrix thought. She wanted it so much, but she neither put it into words nor did Voldemort appear to follow this.
Then suddenly, Voldemort's hand squeezed both sides of her waist and spun Bellatrix. She found herself face to face with the Dark Lord.
Bellatrix was known for her wild nature, but at that moment she was completely mute. Even her mind could not form a single thought. She looked at her Lord. His face was unreadable. Not a single emotion showing.
"Bella", he said.
Bellatrix's knees nearly buckled at the sound of her name on his lips in that tone. She felt one hand on her back, massaging along her spine while the other was just in front of her face. Voldemort tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then cupped one side of her face. Bellatrix leaned into his hand, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Voldemort stroked his finger along her cheek until he reached her lip. The tip of Voldemort's long, pale finger traced the curve of her lower lip with deliberate slowness, pressing just enough to part it slightly.
She was completely his. She felt this urge to open her mouth and let his finger inside.
"Looks like prison was not kind to my most loyal follower. Look how thin the dress is; even your face looks so frail and full of dirt."
He allowed his hips to roll against her once more teasingly before stilling completely. Voldemort stepped back smoothly, breaking all contact. The sudden absence of his body left her cold and aching, her skin screaming for his touch again.
Bellatrix whimpered. Actually whimpered. The loss of pressure felt like a physical wound. "My Lord…" she breathed, voice hoarse and trembling. Her hands twitched at her sides as if she wanted to reach for him but didn't dare.
She did not understand. Was all this just the lord checking the state she was in?
Still in turmoil, she heard some steps drawing closer. That's when she realised her location. This was Malfoy's manor. She immediately recognized the person approaching. Narcissa, her sister. There was a bright smile on her face as she walked while looking directly at their lord.
Only after getting a bit closer did she notice Bellatrix. The smile disappeared on the spot. The two Black sisters stared at each other for a charged moment. Then, Bellatrix moved first, capturing Narcissa in her embrace.
"CISSY".
Narcissa hugged her tightly. It had been so long since they saw each other. But the moment ended as quickly as it had begun. Bellatrix pulled back first. "How dare you, Cissy? Our Lord was in need of us, and here you were living peacefully. I don't understand how some of the Death Eaters could not accept being sent to Azkaban for the Dark Lord. And you did not even search for him. I knew he would return. It was just a matter of time."
Narcissa flinched. "Bella, I…"
Voldemort eventually raised a hand to silence Bellatrix. "Enough. Narcissa has already atoned… in her own way." His voice carries heavy, hidden meaning. "She has been most… attentive to my needs."
Narcissa's cheeks flush deep red. She understood exactly the hidden meaning. Ever since that night in Paris, the Dark Lord has been using her body for his pleasure.
Voldemort gives a small, satisfied smirk at her blush, then turns to Bellatrix.
"Bellatrix. You are covered in dirt and half-starved. Go bathe. Eat properly. I expect you to be in my room tonight. We have… much to discuss." Voldemort's words caused different reactions from both sisters.
Bellatrix realized that she had interpreted Voldemort's action wrong. His earlier intimate inspection (hands on her stomach, back, face, and lips) was him checking whether physically fit after years in Azkaban. He was doing that just to order her to take a bath and eat. Bellatrix felt a sudden ache inside her heart. She left.
On the other hand, Narcissa's mind was in turmoil after hearing the last part where Voldemort was ordering Bellatrix to come to his room tonight.
Narcissa stood there for a long moment, heart hammering. Bellatrix is back. The chosen one. The mad, devoted one who had screamed his name in Azkaban for years. Now that she was here, would he still need Narcissa? Or would she be discarded like yesterday's toy?