Fire

Chapter 8

“And are their devils with halos in beautiful capes, taking them into the flames?”---Tori Amos, Not the Red Baron

Bellatrix was nervous, and she hated it, but the excitement pulsing through her was undeniable.

They had Apparated to some unknown location, a stone room lit by torches, and she pulled slightly in Rodolphus’ firm hold, letting her hair cover her smile as he tightened it roughly. Does he even know that he is stroking my skin with one hand and pulling my hair with the other? She bit her lip and focused on the room and those who stood there, all robed and masked like Malfoy and Rodolphus. Her eyes traveled over the white masks to the center of the room, where a figure was standing in a similar black robe, head bowed.

“My lord,” Malfoy said in his cool voice, his usual sarcastic drawl curiously absent. She’d never heard Malfoy speak with this much respect in his voice to anyone. “We have brought her.”

The figure raised its head, and Bellatrix felt a curious elation as the figure fixed her with a gaze. His face was obscured by shadows, but deep in her soul she knew who it was. The man from the woods from that night last year at Hogwarts …

“Well, well. Miss Black, so kind of you to join us. Rodolphus, show her how it is proper to greet her future Lord and Master,” he said and waved a hand lazily.

Bellatrix would have kneeled right then and there — never, never had she felt such a curious feeling of awe, of adoration — but Rodolphus growled, “As you wish, my lord,” and dragged her to the center of the room. He forced her on her knees roughly. “Kneel, bitch,” he hissed at her, and she grunted as the force of his shove threw her to knees.

“Do you know who I am, Girl?” his voice said, slightly amused and still so cold.

“No,” Bellatrix said, strangely unable to find her usual glib tongue in his presence. There was something so charismatic about him, standing there wrapped in a black cloak like his followers, but on him it looked … different. The cloaks were sinister enough on Rodolphus, Malfoy and the assembled group, but on him it looked like a burial shroud, and he seemed to be Death itself standing before her.

She saw a brief glimpse of his face as she peeked up at him; it was comprised of fair skin, harsh angles and a pair of eyes that looked like empty pools of darkness in his aquiline face. “I am your destiny, Girl,” he said softly, reaching one had out to touch her face.

Bellatrix knew her face was flushed; the combination of fear and violence always served to arouse her. His touch was so chilling it was like ice against her skin — for the first time, that fire within her settled, burned low and warm, and it felt more beautiful inside her than it ever had. The truth of his words washed over her, and she stared transfixed at him.

“You have such fire within you, Miss Black,” he drawled, his voice as cold as the finger that absently stroked her cheek. He raised his voice suddenly. “Leave us alone, all of you.” He turned his attention to Rodolphus and said in an amused voice, “I know what you want Lestrange. Rest assured; it shall happen. You may stay if you wish. The rest of you may go.” His tone belied the idea that there was any choice in the matter.

She could not find it within herself to care that Rodolphus’ presence meant something horrible was going to happen to her. This man before her could do whatever he wanted; Bellatrix had no plans to refuse him. He laughed; the sound was like nothing she had ever heard, and she almost moaned at the sound.

“I know what you desire, Girl. I know how much the idea of pain excites you; I know the hidden cravings of your dark and dangerous soul.” He waved his hand, and Rodolphus approached them, silent, standing next to Bellatrix, who was still on her knees. His presence next to her stirred old memories; she shifted restlessly while her knees pressed into the cold stone beneath her.

“It has never been that good, has it, Girl? You have never felt pleasure as you had the night you writhed beneath Rodolphus Lestrange’s curse, then writhed beneath him in pleasure.” His voice was practical — he spoke of sex in a coldly clinical way that was a tad disconcerting to her but enthralled her nonetheless.

“No, it has not,” she said honestly, wondering if Rodolphus had told him of that and flushing in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment as she recalled their gloriously violent coupling. Beside her, she thought she heard Rodolphus suck in his breath; the sound was like music to her.

“He did not tell me of this; I can divine it from your mind, from the two of you together. I know what Rodolphus yearns for above all things; it is what I have promised him in my service. I know what you yearn for, Bellatrix Black,” he hissed, and the sound of her name on his lips was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

“I—” there was no way to say it. Her voice was quiet but throbbed with an eagerness even she herself did not fully grasp.

“I know,” he said in an odd purr and turned his attention to Rodolphus, who waited quietly beside her. “You have done well, Rodolphus,” he said, and she noticed when he was pleased it was almost a tangible sensation, trickling down her skin like a caress. “I know what you want to see, and I shall give it to you. Am I not generous to those in my service, Rodolphus?”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, voice tight. “You are generous.” He cut his dark eyes down at Bellatrix. She met his eyes briefly — the look was eager, and there was a sadistic smile on his face that started her heart beating in a slow, painful thumping.

She looked back towards the man Rodolphus called lord and bowed her head with her hands on her knees in a gesture of supplication. She waited, breath strangled in her throat, and when he said the word, she closed her eyes in exquisite happiness.

“Crucio.”

A lifetime of waiting had finally come to end and the curse awoke every delicious desire that slumbered within her, every nightmare that had terrified her and secretly thrilled her as a child. Screams echoed in the room — were they her own, or were they the slow death of her conscious, vanishing forever under the waves of exquisite pain? His laughter as she thrashed on the stone of the floor cut sharp like his Cruciatus as she arched her back in a mix of pleasure and pain as it forced her over some edge.

He pulled the curse, and she lay there panting, eyes clenched shut as the colors faded from behind her eyes. “I can see I’ll have to find another way to discipline you, Bellatrix Black, should it become necessary. You find this entirely too enjoyable.”

His voice was amused, and she pulled her eyes open to try and focus on him.

Oh, that it becomes necessary …she thought, and he laughed again. “With one such as you, it no doubt shall,” he said, and she realized then what he was — that he was a Legilimens. There would never be any reason to lie to him, to pretend that she was something she was not … the relief she felt was almost palpable.

He inclined his head. “Now you know what you will have in my service; I shall see to it your every desire is fulfilled, those desires you have been too afraid to even admit to yourself before now. Lord Voldemort is indeed generous. Rise, Bellatrix Black,” he hissed, and she did so, struggling to her feet. She refused his offer of help in the form of an outstretched hand, and he rasped a laugh again at the sight.

“Did you enjoy that, Rodolphus? Did you enjoy the sight of her in pain at my feet?”

“Yes, my lord,” Rodolphus said, inclining his head. Bellatrix glared at him, but even she realized the gesture lacked a certain heat.

“Good,” he said simply, and then his long, cold fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she ignored her former classmate as she met Lord Voldemort’s eyes, which she could see were some dark color like her own. For some reason, she had the oddest thought they should look entirely different.

“You are not yet ready for my Mark, Miss Black, but from this day forth your soul belongs to Lord Voldemort,” he said, and she inclined her head, unable to look away from his glittering eyes. Something — perhaps the last little bit of decency, of humanity that she had left inside of her — leaked away under that gaze.

“Yes, my lord,” she said, the title falling easily from her lips.

He nodded and swept away from her, and Rodolphus bowed politely as he walked past them. They stood silently in the chamber for a moment, watching him leave. Bellatrix turned towards her companion and quirked a brow at him while a smirk curled on her lips. “So,” she drawled, crossing her arms across her chest. “You joined him merely to see me at his feet in pain?”

Rodolphus snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Black. It was merely my desire to watch you writhing in pain for a bit that he satisfied. My reasons for serving Lord Voldemort are my own.”

She nodded. “Right. Looking to be like Malfoy, no doubt, with power and money? The thing is, Rodolphus,” she said, a smile playing about her lips, “you can’t buy class, it’s just something you’re born with — when you’re lucky enough to be born into a top-tier pureblood family, of course,” she said, tossing her raven hair imperiously.

“Oh, is that so? Then what happened to you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. He’d pulled his mask off and was holing it in his left hand. The sleeve of his robe covered his right, but she was certain he had a grip on his wand underneath.

“I have more class in my little finger than you have in your entire body,” she hissed. “I suppose it comes from having a father who isn’t a disappointment to all of Wizarding kind,” she said sweetly, laughing huskily at the ire she saw in his eyes at her words. “Oh, come now, Rodolphus! Why, it’s no secret your father is a poor excuse for a wizard; he’s hardly one level above a squib, I hear.” She grinned. “Is that why you pledged your service, Lestrange? So that you could overcome your father’s legacy and surpass him? Doesn’t seem like it would be that hard to do, really.”

“You are such a bitch,” Rodolphus growled, taking a step towards her. She moved backwards, but her expression was far from afraid. “I should have asked him to Imperio you and make you service me with that foul mouth of yours — it would have been a better use of your time than speaking, apparently.”

She laughed delightedly. “Oh how original, Lestrange. Imperio a girl to suck your cock. Why, you’d be the first wizard to think of that,” she drawled sarcastically. She continued to step backwards until she hit the wall behind her. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at him in a mock gesture of seduction. “You could just ask nicely.”

He stepped up towards her, wand held out, tracing the line of her neck with the tip of it. “I want nothing to do with you that’s nice,” he said, voice tight with anger and yes, lust — she didn’t need to be a legilimens like Lord Voldemort to sense that particular emotion.

“What do you want to do with me?” She narrowed her eyes lazily at him and did not let him answer. “I think I know,” she said, smiling at his scowl. He continued to stroke her neck with his wand; she had sudden vision of him doing it with a knife, and her face flushed at the thought. “You wanted to throw me on the ground and fuck me in the forest, you wanted to do it while I was under Lord Voldemort’s curse, and you want to do it now against the wall. Am I wrong?”

Rodolphus moved and grabbed her arm and yanked her against him roughly. “No,” he rasped, rubbing himself against her so she could feel his manhood straining against his clothing, “you’re not. I can’t help it, Black,” he growled, shoving her back and ripping at his robe. “Being around you makes me want to hurt you, then fuck you, in that order. Take your clothes off.”

She raised an eyebrow but pulled her robes up and over her head, liking his indrawn breath as he saw she stood there in nothing but a pair of black lacy knickers. “Those, too, unless you’d prefer I rip them off,” he said, wand in his mouth as he unbuttoned his trousers.

“So I am to be naked with you fully dressed?” she said, taking off her knickers regardless and leaning back against the wall. The skin felt rough and cool against her flushed skin; it was a pleasurable sensation.

“Yes. This is about what I want, you evil bitch, and I want you naked and against that wall. I want to fuck you until you can’t move, and it’s all because I fucking love watching you scream in pain. I want to see you bleed sometime, but it might just kill me with pleasure,” he snapped, walking up towards her. He spun her around roughly, grabbing her hands and smacking them on the rough stone of the wall. “Spread your legs and don’t move,” he ordered.

She complied with his demands but turned to watch him as he stepped up to her. “This better be good, Rodolphus,” she said sweetly, “I am not usually this accommodating for everyone else.”
“It’s never been this good with them, though, has it?” he asked her, and he stepped up and palmed her mound before sliding a finger inside of her, smirking as he felt how wet she was. “Answer me.”

“No,” she gasped, tossing her head like an animal as she writhed beneath his thrusting fingers. “It hasn’t.”

”None of them fucked you like I did, like I’m going to,” he growled, removing his fingers and abruptly pushing himself into her. Her hands slid over the walls, the jagged stones cutting her hands. “Did they make it hurt? Did they make you crazy like I did? Tell me,” he snarled, hand smacking down on the skin of her back for emphasis.

“No, damn you,” she hissed, thrusting her hips back to meet him. She threw her head back and moaned. “They never made it hurt like you.”

“And why is it, do you think?” he panted, sweat dripping onto her skin, hands moving over her breasts. Lost in sensation, she closed her eyes to enjoy his fierce possession of her and the rough scrape of the stone against her skin. At her silence, he smacked his hand on her back and pulled her hair. “Answer me, Black.”

She loved it, for some reason, his autocratic commands.

“They didn’t hate me,” she answered in a moan and dropped her head as he buffeted her with his fierce thrusts. “God,” she moaned, “I hate you so fucking much,” she gasped and felt her muscles tighten further on his cock.

He laughed harshly before he pulled out of her, turning her in one motion and shoving her back against the wall. “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered her, and she complied, digging her nails into his skin and raking them down his body through the fabric of his shirt as he entered her again. There was blood on her hands for the first time — it would not the last — and she drew her palms over his face and marked him with her blood. Her back would be as bloody as her hands when they finished as she could feel the stone tearing into her flesh.

“It’s the same for you,” she said, hands tangling in his hair and pulling. “All those women — it was never as good, was it, Rodolphus? That Parkinson twit and all the rest — did they ever bring you to your knees with pleasure, did they make it hurt like I did?” She bit his neck, hard, and he groaned.

“No,” he said tightly, hands holding her waist and digging into her skin hard enough to bruise. “It never was,” he said, and then his knees gave way as they slid to the ground, her back laid against the stones of the floor next to the wall. He rose up over her, grabbing her ankles and shoving them up next to his head so that he could thrust deeper into her.

“Rodolphus,” she moaned, head thrashing on the floor, “do it.”

“You’re fucking mad, Black,” he hissed, mouth closing over her nipple and tugging, teeth scraping over her sensitive flesh. “How many times in one night can you take that curse?”

She tore at his hair to make him look at her and hissed, “I want it, Lestrange. Do it; you know you want to.” She leaned up to nip at his ear and whispered darkly, “Aren’t you man enough to hurt me like I want, like I crave? I know you liked to watch him put me under the curse, but don’t you want to be the one now?”

He reached blindly out towards where his robe lay discarded on the floor and snatched his wand up. Sweat was running in his eyes. He pushed his hair off his forehead and laid the tip of the wand on her throat. She stared up at him, her body tense and poised for what was to come, breathing ragged. Her eyes shone with excitement and mania, and she groaned. “Do it, do it,” she said, head tossing on the floor. “Make me come, Rodolphus,” she said on a groan. “You know you want to, fucking hurt me…”

“Crucio,” he hissed. She had a moment of rational thought to comprehend that she liked the way he spoke the curse, like a love word, before the curse hit and her orgasm followed soon after.

Her body spasmed beneath him as she screamed her release, sobbing “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again, and her muscles pulled at his cock until he spilled inside her, the pleasure a blinding hot wave that sucked him under with her.

She might have seen stars, so intense was her pleasure. His orgasm had effectively stopped the curse, and she remained still beneath him as she trembled in the aftermath. She struggled to relegate her breathing, to pull the shattered pieces of herself back together. She watched him fight the same battle, and when he finally opened his eyes to look down at her, his gaze shone dark and pure like the night sky that cradled the star she was named for.

What he did next was the most unexpected of all. He bent his head down and kissed her for the first time. She met his kiss with soft, pliant lips, and it was the gentlest of touches — out of place between them, certainly. It was a disconcerting moment, and they both realized it. Breaking away from her, he stood up and surprised her by reaching down to help her up. Normally she would have refused, but her body was weakened by two doses of the Cruciatus and the intense sex they’d just shared.

In silence, she pulled her robes on over her bruised and torn skin, and he righted his clothing and picked up his robe and his wand. Without a word, they crossed the room to the door, and she said nothing as he yanked it open and waited for her to precede him out of it into the hallway.

“I’ll return you to the party, if you wish,” he said, his voice strangely formal and without a hint of rancor.

“That will not be necessary,” a voice said, amused, and they turned to see Lucius Malfoy leaning against the wall of the hallway, a smile on his face that did not quite reach his slate eyes. He reached out his hand, which held her wand, and said with a quirked brow, “I’m certain Miss Black knows how to Apparate home.”

Bellatrix scowled at him and reached forward to grab her wand. Malfoy was a tall man; he held it above her head and said in amusement as she struggled to reach it, “You are, needless to say, not to mention a word of this evening to anyone or we will find a way to make you pay that you won’t enjoy.”

I wonder why when he makes me mad, it only makes me want to strike him on the mouth and kick him. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Her body was tired and sore, and all she wanted was a bath. “If it is needless to say, why did you say it?” she said crossly, stomping her foot in annoyance as he dangled her wand above her head. “I’m not a fool, Malfoy. I shan’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Now, give me my wand.”

Peering down at her, Malfoy leaned forward and caught her chin in his hand. “Look here, Black. I’m not ever going to take orders from you. So kindly lose the attitude, and remember to whom you’re speaking so disrespectfully. I’m your superior in just about every way possible — socially, intellectually, here in his lordship’s circle — so don’t you forget it,” he snarled arrogantly.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to argue, but Rodolphus made an impatient sound and said irritably, “Bellatrix, take your wand and go home,” and she grabbed her wand from Malfoy’s hand before whirling on him.

“Malfoy might be my superior here,” she growled, “but I’ve no indication you are.”

“What just happened wasn’t indication enough?” he said, stepping towards her. “I’d be happy to repeat the lesson—”

“Children,” Malfoy said, voice annoyed, “leave off. Lestrange, we’ve business to attend to, and Miss Black should hurry home.” He looked at them both coldly — and Bellatrix sighed in disgust and stepped back, unable to leave, however, without getting the last word in.

“I am weary of your company anyway, Lestrange. You’re only useful for the short — and I do mean short— amount of time it takes me to have my pleasure of you. Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, Apparating away as Rodolphus lunged towards her with his hand raised.

“Next time, Mate,” she heard Malfoy drawl, amusement in his cold voice, and when she returned to Ravensden, she was laughing.