the dark lord voldemort (ex_dark_lord747) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-05-21 22:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-05] may, bellatrix lestrange (née black), lord voldemort |
Who: The Dark Lord & Bellatrix Lestrange
Where: A secret location
When: 10pm, 21 May 1980
What: A meeting
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
It was dark where the Dark Lord sat -- and his chair, hewn of unimpressive wood and bound together by homely joints, could have been a throne in this inky blindness. He felt regal here, in this closed room, absent everything but his thoughts.
It was cold, too, but He had ventured so far from human that he could barely feel the burn against his cloaked flesh.
Somewhere far away, witches and wizards and muggles fought and died for Him. This pleased him, though it was not the dull tedium of politics that fed this emotion but the knowledge that everywhere people loved or feared him. With Dumbledore gone, there was nothing to stand in the way of his rightful worship. He saw no difference between love and fear, and he took both with haunting eagerness.
It was with this thought in mind that he pulled his wand from within his cloak and pressed the tip into his forearm. Magic seared across his flesh and then dissipated, and he waited with quiet impatience for his most passionate follower to join him.
Bellatrix, after having received Voldemort’s missive, spent her evening in solitary reflection as she attempted to come up with the best way to relate the consequences of the battle to her Lord. She only feared Him insofar as a child feared their father – He could unmake her, if He so chose – but she would be content to let him. She would offer herself on the altar of His power and leave her fate in the hands she had long trusted to guide her steps.
When the sun sank low and the room she sat in was lit only by the faint glow of the candelabra on the wall, at last her Mark stung. He calls. And without a second thought, her wand glided through the air and she materialized at His feet, a penitent worshipper whose sole existence was to please Him. Her mind open, her eyes full of tears, she threw herself at His feet and waited for Him to read the state of her mind.
Frequently He tired of Bellatrix's prostrations, but today He found them adequate -- almost pleasing. He did deserve them, after all, and her passion was, to the core, genuine. Reverent. It satisfied him to have such a talented servant. A hand stretched down, and a few fingers flicked over raven locks, a pittance of a gesture to bind her heart to him; and then he was nestled back in his chair, reaching out to feel her willing mind. There was turmoil there of a sort. Oh, not towards Him -- for Him there was only love and the desire to please.
But there was something awry.
Almost idly, he filtered through her memories and emotions, searching for the source of that turmoil. There was Rodolphus -- he tossed the memory aside. So too with Narcissa and the dark haired blood traitor that lurked on Bellatrix's conscience. These did not explain what it was he wished to know. Beyond that -- oh, he realised the moment his poisonous thoughts wrapped around hers. Things were missing. Many things. Too many things.
"And what does my most loyal follower wish to confide in her Lord?" He rasped, voice thin but always, ever commanding.
"My Lord," she said, her voice thick with emotion that she scarce betrayed to anyone else. Her gaze rose as she sat at His feet, looking up into His wise eyes. "After the battle at Hogwarts - my memories, my mind, was disorganised. I am missing things. Nothing that would effect my service to You. But, nevertheless, I woke up and thought I was twenty-one. Even my father's death ..."
Deep red glimmered down at her, visible even in the scant light, and continued to consume what parts of her mind presented themselves at her recollection. "Nothing that would affect your service, Bella?" He asked, a flicker of malice unable to keep itself from his tone. "Do you suggest you have learnt nothing by My side over these many years?" This was unfortunate. Incredibly so.
"Of course not! It is just that I ... " bowing her head, she smoothed a wrinkle in her trousers before returning her gaze to His face. "My Lord, I do not forget all. I am still Bellatrix, I still serve you. My magical acuity is not diminished."
A finger stroked out over her jaw, a semblance of affection that the Dark Lord may have felt at the periphery of his soul. "You are as you have always been. A loyal, obedient servant. My most passionate follower. You will learn again." He awaited her gratitude before telling her precisely what would become of her. It satisfied his magnanimity.
" ... thank you," was quiet, prayerful. "Thank you. Yes, I will do whatever you command."
So satisfied, he continued. "You will find a mentor for the child Crouch and resume your mentorship to relearn what you have forgotten. I expect much of you, Bella. I expect that you will regain what you have lost quickly. I expect you to stand by my side within the year. And then you shall train under me." His hand moved absently to her face again, ice cold against its searing warmth. Small gestures could elicit powerful responses. He had learned this over His many years
"Until you have earned your place at my side once more, you shall stand as a role model for the children. You will show them what it means to be in My service." A pause for his meaning to sink in. "You understand?" It was not truly a question.
"I do, my Lord, but I would stand by your side now. I have not forgotten so much ... " her words caught in her throat as she pressed her fingertips into the hem of his robes. "Please do not bar me from you ... "
He raised a narrow, utterly pale finger before she went on. "You shall still have my counsel. Are my affections not enough for you, Bella, that you question me?"
As he spoke, her head bowed again and a tear slid down her cheek. The Dark Lord was good. She could not ask for a more loving, benevolent master. "It is my great love for You that so emboldens me, Lord Voldemort. Please forgive me ... I only wish to do your will."
"I forgive you," he hissed, in a voice that could only be construed as affectionate by a mind such as Bellatrix's. "My will is for you to regain your position. Take this second opportunity to prove beyond all doubt who my most loyal follower is." His lips twisted. "I have faith in you, Bella. Do not disappoint me."
Rising, for she felt that such words signalled the end of her audience, her face was flushed with pleasure as she bowed low. "Yes, my Lord. I will be all that You wish of me. And more. I promise you," thus uttered, she swiftly turned upon her heel to stalk back through the shadows. She had lost little. He had been very lenient. She would make His trust in her worthwhile.