Chapter Text
They were gone.
Gone.
Bellatrix was kneeling on the marble floor and stared at the spot where Potter and his friends had just been standing. And the house-elf. The bloody house-elf. Behind her, she could hear Draco groaning and her sister talking softly to him, but she couldn't turn around to face them.
Gone.
“What's the meaning of this?”
Merlin, help us.
Bellatrix closed her eyes and braced her hands on the shard-strewn floor to get up. She could feel small shards digging into her palms, but it didn't matter. The pain she knew she was about to feel would make this seem ridiculous.
“Master.” Lucius' voice sounded brittle and rough and without seeing him, Bella knew that he was kneeling, begging his master for mercy. She would not do that. She had failed. Mercy would be inappropriate.
“Lord, please, we had them, him. We had Potter. He...”
As expected, she found Lucius kneeling in front of the hem of Voldemort's cloak, who was looking down at his servant with glittering, snake-like eyes. Bellatrix' gaze crossed that of her sister, who was crouched on the floor with Draco, clutching his face, which was bloodied and almost certainly marred by a shard. Nothing that couldn't be fixed. The fear in her sister's eyes was ever-present and tears glistened on her cheeks. The hissing voice of her master made Bellatrix tear her gaze away from her sister and look back to the men in front of her.
“And where did he go, Lucius?”
Lucius winced. “I don't know, my Lord. I don't know, the house-elf...”
“Your house-elf?”
“No, no, not anymore. I mean, no, my Lord.”
Bellatrix swallowed. Lucius was only making it worse.
“I meant the house-elf you freed?”, Voldemort asked slowly, as if wanting to make sure that Lucius really understood him. Lucius' lower lip quivered. Voldemort raised his wand.
“Crucio.”
Lucius' body convulsed and he fell to the floor, groaning, too weak to not make a sound but prescient enough to know what was coming. The curse wore off quickly, but Lucius was still lying on the ground. Voldemort let out a hiss, lashed out with his leg, kicked Lucius in the ribs with his foot and then turned to face Bellatrix.
She jutted her chin out as he came at her - she knew that would probably be counterproductive, but pride got the better of her once more.
“Bella”, Voldemort said, his voice sounding almost gentle. Frighteningly gentle.
“My lord”, she replied, holding his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lucius struggle to his feet and drag himself over to Narcissa and Draco, who now had their eyes fixed on Bellatrix and Voldemort. The latter had now reached Bellatrix, eyeing her from top to bottom. Then he raised a hand. And wiped the blood from her lip.
“I'm disappointed, Mon Belle”, he said. The hand he had used to wipe the blood away had now come to rest on the back of her neck. The use of his nickname for her made her taste bile.
“Not from Lucius, I place no more expectations on him by now. But you?” His hand travelled along her neck and closed around her throat. Her heart picked up in speed, but her demeanor remained calm. He hated it when she showed fear, showed weakness.
“I thought I had made myself very clear to you. No. Further. Mistakes.” With each word, he increased the pressure his hand exerted on her throat.
“You have, my lord”, Bellatrix pressed out, struggling to form words when even breathing was becoming difficult. Voldemort's eyes narrowed a little more, if that was even possible.
No.
Bellatrix knew what he was trying to do, but she wouldn't let him do it. Not today, not...
“Don't you dare close yourself off to me now, Bella”, Voldemort hissed and she closed her eyes. “Don't you dare”, he repeated, his voice swelling until it filled the entire room.
Bellatrix knew what he was after; he wanted to know why he hadn't been summoned immediately, why they had waited so long, but she couldn't show him, she couldn't... She couldn't breathe. Her eyes popped open and her hands grabbed her master's which were closed around her throat like an iron chain, but he didn't let go. Instead, he squeezed harder and harder and black dots danced on her retinas and she heard Narcissa whimper, and she thought of the sword and... Suddenly she was being pushed backwards with such force that she collided with the wall and slid it down, but before her body made contact with the floor, Voldemort was standing in front of her and yanked her up by her hair.
No sound escaped her.
“They were in your vault?” Voldemort growled and Bellatrix shook her head.
“It was fake, my Lord. The goblin confirmed it. Just a copy.” She was sounding awfully similar to the mudblood girl now she realized, and it made her want to retch.
“Oh, Bella…” His look took on an almost wistful quality and in that moment Bellatrix knew that it was over. “You know that is a lie.”
With a jerk, he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the floor in front of him. Her body hit the floor hard, and the air escaped her lungs for a moment. When she turned around to look up at him, he stood over her with his wand drawn, his face contorted with anger. She knew what would be coming next.
“Crucio!”
The pain penetrated every fibre of her body. For a few seconds she was able to hold back her screams, but the curse did not diminish in strength, no, its intensity only increased, and then she was screaming. Her body reared up under the pain, she no longer had any control over her reactions. And he uttered the curse again.
And again.
And again.
In between, she felt his shoes collide with her face, her stomach and her back, but if that was the worst he had come up with for her, she could count herself lucky. Her nose was certainly broken, her ribs perhaps, maybe her wrists too, but she had seen him use far worse practices, had used them herself.
This was nothing.
This was fine.
By now she had her body under control again; no more screams escaped her and she no longer flinched from Voldemort's contact. When she thought she was about to pass out, the curses stopped, as did the kicks. The only thing that could be heard in the room were her own hitched breaths.
“Expect me for dinner at seven”, Voldemort hissed, and then, just like that, he was gone.
Bellatrix blinked, but when the ceiling seemed to spin over her head, she closed her eyes again.
Merlin.
“Bella!” Narcissa. Bellatrix had almost forgotten that her sister was also in the room, as were her son and husband. Degrading, she thought, clenching her teeth and trying to force herself into a sitting position. Hands immediately wrapped around her shoulders, hands she would have slapped away had they belonged to anyone other than her sister.
“Stay down”, Narcissa breathed, seemingly kneeling behind Bellatrix and gently holding her down. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Lucius, help me, I need…”
Bellatrix felt herself drift away and let her eyes flutter close. Her sister’s voice had flattened down to a low humming noise that calmed down her burning nerves. Or maybe that was already the effect of Narcissa’s healing spells; she didn’t know, and neither did she care.
This was fine. The punishment had been fine, had been just.
She had failed. And the Dark Lord had shown her mercy. He could have done much worse, could have killed her. But he had not.
He had been merciful. Gentle.
Suddenly, her thoughts drifted to her dagger. Who had been struck by it, she wondered? The thought of the steel burying itself into flesh filled her with satisfaction.
Then she blacked out.