And All the World Bowed Before Her

They were almost there, could hear it in the way the band were hurtling towards a thrilling musical crescendo. Huh. Just as he was getting into it. The way Bellatrix’s hand slipped between his callous fingers, the swish of her gown. He felt the laugh rattle out of him as his partner pointed out the obvious before expressly prohibiting his death. There were few people who Augustus took direction from and Bellatrix was one of them. It helped that she was capable of reaching into his very core, grabbing hold of the work that was his heart and his legacy, and threatening him with it. “You wouldn’t dare.” He said, dark gaze narrowing. “But I suppose I can’t afford to take the risk, hmm?”  

But then Bellatrix was pinning him with a look that brought the world into sharp relief. And Augustus’ brows knitted as he tried to comprehend her smile. Her eyes shone. Jade, or emerald, the verdigris pigments that made Augustus think of corrosion and wealth, the dewy grass of coming home after a night of indecency. Some of the greatest art in history had been produced from less, but he supposed, Bella already was something of an art form. Paradoxes and ingenuity, a sharp prick of kindness. There was little he could do but match it, her smile, and hold onto her for dear life.

“Oh,” he sighed at her words as if he’d been punched. The sincerity prickled across his skin and the man shut his eyes, dampening the sharpness in his chest. The final chord of the song was struck and a smattering of applause was directed toward them, and it was only then that Augustus realised that they were still swaying together.  Knew what it must look like. Like he was trying hard to coax Bella away from her new husband. “Thank you, I…”

He had everything that he needed. And more than he deserved. Loved his work to an inordinate degree and the few friends that he possessed, he cared for with an unholy passion. There was nobody to blame for Augustus’ position but himself. The ugly and twisted thing he felt for Antonin, the unease he felt about letting anyone close when there were repercussions. There were always repercussions, something that many Death Eaters had yet to learn. He had sealed up his heart so tightly that it was dying of asphyxiation and there was nothing Bella could do to help him.

“I’ll think about it.” Augustus said, a tone of finality in his voice. “Right now, I’m parched.” He looked down towards Bella once more as a smirk curled onto his face, burying his drunken maladies in soft earth where he might forget them.

Sharp green eyes cut to him and Bellatrix raised a manicured eyebrow in silent challenge. There was a wordless, ‘Wouldn’t I?’ in her pointed gaze. There were few limits to what Bella wouldn’t dare. Claiming Gus’ legacy as her own was not on that short list. If he was going to die when she’d explicitly forbade it, then he forfeited years of hard work, countless hours of research, blood and sacrifice --and the occasional blood sacrifice-- to her discretion. 

“I suppose you can’t.”

Her expression gradually softened as their dance went on. Bella admired her friend’s handsome face and wondered if he was happy. Was there anything in this world that would make him happy? His research, perhaps, but she somehow doubted that even it filled him with the kind of joy she felt burning behind her sternum. It didn’t seem right. If thinking that made her a sentimental fool, so be it. 

The song slowed and she barely noticed. Not until applause sounded and she pulled her gaze from Augustus’ face to survey their surroundings. Faces smiled back at her, blending into obscurity, fading behind her rising disinterest. Bella was about to clasp Gus tighter, to force him to stay within her grasp and save her from her guests, but the finality of his voice urged her to let him go. 

Just as she opened her mouth to invite herself along on him, away from the dancefloor and the always watching eyes surrounding her on all sides, another man stepped up with a question in his eyes. Green eyes sharpened with distaste, but she sighed. Bella had to play the gracious host for only a little while longer. Until she could disappear and let the party sweep through in force, she had to play nice. 

“Darling, you are headed for Hell if there is one, and we both know it,” he said, half fondly, half admiringly, and without taking offence himself. For weren’t they all well on their way there? If Antonin had to go to Hell in order to achieve the dream he and the Dark Lord shared, though, he would. Self preservation was, of course, the most important, but if they were to achieve their dream of Pureblood total supremacy, sacrifices would have to be made.

“I take that as a compliment of the highest order, coming from you,” he smirked, not at all put off.

He didn’t mind that she made herself more comfortable in his presence. Really, it was a testament to the level of comfort she felt around him. And Antonin did so enjoy making people comfortable. Of course, he wouldn’t do such a thing with Bella, but it was fun to gain someone’s trust, thinking all the while on how to bend them to his will and use them for his own advantage.

Antonin shrugged, throwing her the charming smile that made lesser witches swoon. He just couldn’t be bothered with the dramatics of women, not when he had ensured he had a staff of attractive individuals at his beck and call at home. Any urges Antonin had could be satisfied there. Here, it would be a diversion at best, and an inconvenience at worst.

There had been a few scares when he was younger that had almost had him at the altar at wand point. They had all been paid off, though, or had been treacherous, deceitful witches themselves, wanting to trick the Dolohov heir into spending a lifetime with them. Antonin did not need anyone batting their eyelashes at him here, all the while thinking how best to screw him over–and not in a pleasant way.

“Ah yes,” he said, settling back more comfortably in his chair. “You have your own personal reporter in your pocket, don’t you. Rita Skeeter, is it?”

Sticking her tongue out at him, Bellatrix replied, “At least I’ll be in good company.” Surely if she was going to hell, then she would see him there. As well as many others in their inner circle. They were all wicked souls, and it was what made them so formidable. They were going to change the world. Perhaps they would change heaven and hell, too. If that was what the Dark Lord wanted, they’d see it done.

She wiggled her toes before tucking her feet in under her. Bella curled into her seat and made herself as comfortable as the dress would allow. It wasn’t a testament to Antonin that she was relaxing in his company. Important as appearances were, she was tired and didn’t care to put on airs for a man she had no reason to or interest in impressing. 

His shrug and smile earned a replying eyebrow raise and simper. He was shameless. Not the same way that Evan was. Her cousin was a flirt and floozy, and a vicious killer. Annie was one of those things for certain. She’d seen him cooly dismiss advances, cut down hopeful partners like they were weeds. Bella hadn’t known him to play with his food, but it was a wedding. Why deny himself his fun?

Evan chuckled, “Quit the opposite my dear. When you pretend if covers a blazing inferno, and it thus, all but impossible. When I pretend it covers a more… icy interior and it a greta deal easier.” Evan pretended for his own benefit at times, he didn’t like looking at himself and seeing an utterly blank canvas, nothing. It was better for all that his carefully crafted facade never crack, never utterly leave him.

In all honestly Evan couldn’t give up his mask, it wouldn’t end well for any involved and he’d rather ensure the safety of his family, his name and his kind by finding an outlet. So he had. The thrill of bloodlust, of taking all from those he could had been found early and proved invaluable to him.

Without that… Well, he wasn’t sure what he’d have done to ensure all remained as it should. The world was so boring, so pathetically base. But, he’d found a way to endure, and found a way to ensure Bella did as well.      

Evan smirked, “You may make light of it, Dear Bella, but I wasn’t there counting my gallons. To use the common phrase I put in work. By the end of it the lady in question was begging to the high heavens for me to give her reprieve.” he chuckled, “I have to say, in a strange way I rather enjoyed it. It’s like giving a man head, yes? In that moment you’re int the ultimate position of power. You control how and where the affair shall go and can ensure pleasure of denial.” he chuckled lightly, “That is what it all comes down to you? Rod, for example is a powerful man but get his dick hard and in your hand and you’re the one directing the narrative.”

Evan was far from overly concerned with the sexual performance of others, but it was fun to poke jokes at Bella and her soon-to-be husband. Evan had no doubt that Rodolphus was enough, or else Bella wouldn’t have entertained him to begin with. Bella’s chuckles were infectious and soon Evan found himself laughing along with her guessing it was at his expense and Rod’s experience. Either way it was still funny so Evan was happy to chuckle along with her.

“Well, if only for the excuse to see him in action.” Evan said with a few more chortles. “I wouldn’t think his perfomance too sub-par or else why would still be here with him?” He said with another laugh, “But can you really deny a man the sight of Rodolphus Lestrange in the act?” The man was a towering figure and Evan could very well imagine him ready to go, it was a tantalising image.

Evan smirked at her, “Then I am pleased.” he said, “I’ve wanted many thing for you Bella and a decent man is one of them.” he told her, “A fate worse than death to be saddled with an inferior partner for the sake of bloodlines.”

“Wasn’t it just?“ he groaned, “All those damn so-called purebloods running about revelling in their cowardice and thinking they had any reason to celebrate it.” he scoffed and took another drink of his wine. It was ridiculous, the pure-bloods daring to be happy about going into hiding. He knew the Dark Lord loathed such a celebration too. Perhaps that was why he and Fenrir hadn’t been truly punished for their murders during the event. He knew as well as they did that the whole thing was a load of rubbish. Honestly, he’d tried nothing less than to ensure some dignity returned to the evening.

“Oh yes,” He assured her with a grin, “A french witch of the highest degree, but I cannot tell you more details than that, I’ve sworn the purest oaths not to tell of any identities.” he chuckled, “But it was a marvellous time all round.”      

An airy laugh left her in a huff. Bellatrix lifted her brows, muttering, “Says a man who’s never given Rod head.” Even with her hands or mouth wrapped around his cock, it was a rare occasion when he allowed her that bit of control. He was more inclined to fuck her face, and she was more than happy to let him. The ‘narrative’ was her giddy submission. Bella was in no hurry to change it.

Evan’s comment had her doubled over, in tears, arms wrapped around her aching middle as laughter poured out of her. Her amusement was spurred on by the sound of his laugh joining hers. She was overwhelmed by it, overtaken, tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and a minute passed before she’d contained herself enough to lift her face from the table’s cool surface and wipe at the corners of her eyes, chuckles still leaving her in bubbling bursts as she struggled to catch her breath. Bella looked toward Evan, grinning, choking back another round of laughter. 

“I wouldn’t dream of denying you anything, cousin.”

Talk of the Wizarding Statute had a more sobering effect. She cleared what was left of her amusement from her throat, dabbed at her eyes, and breathed in a steadying breath. Bella shook her head at their people’s weakness, her smile fading as she gave it thought. “I, for one, am glad that you did what you did. It was the reminder we all needed.”

Before she could insist that Evan be more forthright with a detailed account of his sexual escapades after his fun in the forest, there was a tapping at the kitchen window. “Hold that thought,” she said, downing the rest of her wine before slipping from her seat to stride to the window and meet the owl waiting on the ledge. The window was pushed open and she accepted the missive from the owl, absently stroking its feathery chest as she read the letter, sighing at the elegant script. The owl was paid with a slice of ham before Bella turned to face Evan again, expression flat and distaste in her eyes. 

Evan only chuckled, “You’re not wrong, it’s somewhat farcical, but needs must. She and I met when we weren’t but teenagers and have toyed with the notion of marriage once we reached our twenties.” he explained lightly, spinning Bella, dipping her and easily moving into the next step. By this point dancing came easily to both of them and their steps flowed as smoothly as their words.

“So, both of us knowing what was expected began to plot in secret.” he continued, smirking at Bella, “Unlike you and Rod, we’ve no rush to settle down and fuck out a couple of children to carry on out names in the next generation, so we’ve decided to have out fun first.” So many partners to have and so little time, it was a great shame really, if only they stayed young and beautiful forever.

“So God aside, we made a deal. We would wed into out forties or fifties and be assured of the union so that we could fuck to our hearts content between it all.” he chuckled lowly, “I think you’d like her you know. Not up to our level of sadism by a long shot, but she’s politically clever, so very clever, and ambitious. A lot like dear Cissa… if Cissa gave into her sex drive and had some fun.” he added in a deadpan.

He chortled, “Now now Bella, I shan’t be young forever either, I’ve a decade and some on you. Besides, an older lady has a certain beauty to her that cannot be denied, especially a woman of experience. Merlin forbid I have some timid little thing presented to me on my wedding night.” he mumbled, “I’m quite sure we’ll work well into out middle age.” he chuckled, lent forward and whispered, “Remember the time I told you I went down on a woman for hours? That was Lady Dubois. And she returned the effort… immensely.” If he couldn’t have a partner as dark as him, he’d at least demand one who could satisfy him in other ways, mentally, and sexually.  

“Oh I’m quite certain, really it’s a crime I’ve not seen it, nor shall I ever.” he sighed, spinning her once again, before lifting her into the air and easily spinning her in his strong arms before delicately placing her back down. “But such is life. I shan’t have a night with that deliciously beastial wolf masquerading as Rod’s cousin and I shan’t have Rod either. I’m at peace with such things.” he had other pursuits to keep him occupied in his time between schemes and the Dark Lord’s work.

“You know, this is truly a pure-blood affair.” he lent close and whispered, “I wouldn’t say this to another with any sense of the genuine, but I am proud of you Bella. You’ve become a woman of pain, a woman of power, and you’ve found a man who shall match you. But never him overtake you. Be a queen, and nothing less.” he lent back from her ear and smiled, “That is all I ever wanted for the noble Ms Black, no Mrs Lestrange.” he said, a tiny smile on his face and faintest fluttering of fondness in his chest. Genuine emotions were often beyond him, but he could summon up some true feeling for Bella if for no one else in his life.

He rolled his eyes as her nails dug in again, “Then please control her. And make it clear is she interrupts me getting my cock wet again then she may loose a limb, by your hand since mine is forbidden.” he added wryly before sighing, “At least I’ll have her before the night is through, and so shall you. By the by,” he lent back and smirked, “I never did reveal your wedding present to you, did I?”    

“I suppose you think yourself rather brilliant; don’t you, cousin?” 

All this plotting in secret. And for what? To finalize the union when it was most convenient to them? It was ridiculous. He had to know that. Marriage was a contract, meaningless beyond the merging of bloodlines, wealth, and procreation of pure blooded babies. She and Rodolphus were fortunate to actually love and care for one another, but those things were neither necessary nor common in marriages of their pedigree. 

Her brows shot up. “Forties or fifties,” repeated Bellatrix, incredulous. She blinked, shook her head, then met Evan’s smirking gaze again, not missing a step as they both continued to glide through the dance. “Evan, I knew you were mad but I didn’t think you were foolish. Why not just marry the girl and have your fun anyway?” 

It was what their kind did. Married for appearances and alliances, and whored around in secret. There was no strategy in waiting, no benefit beyond the absence of a ring and the responsibilities and expectations that came with it. But if they were both so desperate to fuck to their hearts content with as many partners as they could find, then those responsibilities and expectations changed to best serve their needs. 

Not interested in either meeting or knowing his intended, she ignored his assumption about if she’d like her, and focused instead on his scoffed admission to not being young forever. “If she is a lady then she has her own expectations to fulfill, cousin. Do you think her family will permit her to wait until she is forty or fifty to marry? If she’s as politically savvy as you claim she is, then I doubt she’ll wait. There’s no advantage to it. Not when she can continue to fuck you on the side anyway.”

The benefit to this conversation was that Bella was no longer jealous. Bella was content to dance with Evan, to be spun, and lifted, and led by him through the steps of the familiar dance. She was happy to spend this time with him, to steal these precious moments of conversation and debate while the band played. Her smile stretched wider when Evan confessed to his pride in her, and she affectionately squeezed his hand and shoulder. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. 

“Yes, and while it would be pleasure to add you to any family, the pleasure I offered him would be of an entirely different kind,” she replied with a satisfied smirk. Rita knew she was more than capable of making any man–or woman’s–night a memorable one. But he was too young for her, and really, Rita didn’t want to mess with family, just in case Rodolphus was not as kindly inclined towards her as his new wife was.

“Spoken for for tonight, darling,” Rita replied smoothly. “He told me as much when I…interrupted them,” she smirked, knowing how Bella would understand and appreciate the image. “She was a pretty blonde thing.” Though that could be said for many of the women there tonight. “I said I was sorry, but,” she shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. “He was quite put out.”

Rita could understand why. Her photogenic memory helped her replay that moment multiple times, even if her brain had only seen and processed it in the moment. Not that there had been all that much to see before Rita had so rudely made her appearance. She did not mention that he had initially switched his attentions to her. Knowing Evan as she did, Rita was quite sure that had all been a game to him.

“I wonder how she and Rodolphus’ cousin met,” she mused. “I haven’t seen him around, have I? He has a face I would remember,” she grinned, wicked thoughts obvious as they danced across her open face for Bella to see. She supposed it wasn’t all that important. A girl from the Ministry was hardly unusual tonight.

She was not fooled for a minute by Bella’s look of innocence. There was still the twinkle of mischief in her eye that indicated that Bellatrix knew exactly–or had at least suspected–how much Rita annoyed Augustus.

“Oh, well if it’s at your blessing,” she said dryly. As if she wouldn’t–and hadn’t–been pursuing it already. Her hunting of Augustus Rookwood had been going on for some time now. She had started off with wanting to know more about his department, but it had turned into an additional personal challenge for her. “I can throw it in as another wedding present,” she laughed.

“I appreciate your confidence in my…abilities, dearest,” she laughed, patting Bella’s cheek. Rita was not inclined to make a fool of herself in front of Antonin Dolohov, though. Were she ever to actually need him for anything, she didn’t want his memory of her to be sullied by anything less than professional. He was the head of an important Ministry Department after all, and therefore not someone she wanted to piss off–without reason. And as attractive as he was, as fun as Rita was sure he might be, pleasure was not a good enough reason when she could find it elsewhere.

Rita laughed, shaking her head. She was almost disappointed that their private time together was at an end, though obviously she couldn’t be selfish and keep the bride from her own wedding. “As kind of an offer as that is, my love, unless you are indeed offering to arrange it yourself–” here, she paused, to let her eyes roam over her friend’s ivory clad body with a suggestive look, “I think I can manage.”

She didn’t need anyone arranging anything for her. Bella had done enough just by getting Rita’s foot in the door. “I am, of course, open to suggestion, though.”

Lips pursed, she mulled Rita’s words over, thinking of Evan and what she knew of him. Bellatrix confessed a musing, “I’m surprised that he stopped. Though, I suppose my cousin is more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist.” She shrugged. “He’ll live, and I’m sure he and his flavor of the week will find their way back to each other before the night is through.”

She made a mental note to speak with Evan. It sounded as though he was having more fun tonight than she was, and that was simply unacceptable. The moment alone she’d stolen with Rod early on hadn’t been long enough to whet her appetite, and she didn’t think they’d have the opportunity until they were in their honeymoon suite later tonight. She wasn’t opposed to him having his fun, but he didn’t have to be a fucking slag about it. 

Bella blinked and the conversation was on Fenrir and his witch. She shrugged, expression bland, disinterested. “He’s visiting from France, and that’s where she’s from originally, I believe. Perhaps they knew each other prior to tonight. Biblically.” Eyeing Rita’s grin, she arched an eyebrow. Her smirk not quite fully surfacing as she read the blonde’s expression. Bella wondered if that cheshire smile would hold if she knew the monster under that pretty mask. 

Catching Rita by the wrist as she pat her cheek. She turned her face to press a kiss into her palm before knitting their fingers together and lowering their hands between them. Entertaining as it would be to watch Rita fluster Gus or lock horns with Dolly, neither were a good match for her friend. 

Both would likely be interested in getting inside her head, one with a scalpel, the other by either getting under her skin or blasting her skull wide open. Tonight wasn’t the night for any of that, so she dragged Rita from the room instead and joined the other wall flowers to observe the night’s festivities and scout a victim. 

A purr left her at the way Rita eyed her, and Bella gave her lip a nibble, returning her attention with a lingering once over of her own. “Much as I would love that, dearest Rita, I doubt Rod would be very interested in sharing me tonight.” She tore her attention from her companion to observe the reception, sighing when she accidentally locked eyes with her mother, who was waving her over to speak with some Ministry officials. 

“I’m working on it,” Rita replied coyly. She tossed her head, blonde curls bouncing as she threw Bella a winning smile. It was certainly more impressive than saying ‘not yet.’

The Aurors were being more close lipped than usual about this, and she supposed she could understand why. It had been a horrific scene by all accounts. And it happening so close to Hogwarts, and in the usually safe Hogsmeade had set everyone on edge. It was enough to make Rita roll her eyes. There were bad people everywhere, and anyone who thought they were completely safe was naive or in denial.

Rita’s grip on Bella’s hand tightened as the other’s teeth gently pressed a warning into her skin. She smiled cheekily at the other woman, the move not dissuading her in the least.

She had seen Bella notice the way Rita eyed her lips. Rita had not been subtle about it, did not try to hide. Not from Bellatrix. They each knew each other too well–in both mind and body– to bother hiding things, especially when it came to matters of a more sensual nature.

As the tailor gave them privacy again, Rita eyed Bella warily. She knew better than to promise the other woman anything without first hearing the proposal and the terms. For all that she trusted the eldest Black girl, she also knew her well enough to know that she enjoyed games. It was always best to remain on her toes when Bella was around, though at this point in their friendship, Rita didn’t think Bellatrix would do anything to harm her.

Rita didn’t back away from Bella as the brunette crowded her. She almost laughed aloud when the vixen voiced her request. There was something ironic about the witch using her wiles on Rita in order to get her to be her bridesmaid. But she was too touched for laughter, except perhaps of an incredulous kind. She did step back then, surprise written over her face.

“Me?” she asked. For once, Rita Skeeter was at a loss for words. She hated it, knowing how much Bella would love that she had struck the reporter dumb. And yet, all she could repeat again was, “Me?!”

Perhaps it was a little strange that she was seducing Rita into being her bridesmaid. But, truly, the two things were unrelated. Bellatrix enjoyed teasing Rita, enjoyed pulling her in close, touching her, sharing sultry looks through heavily hooded eyes. Even if their relationship hadn’t been of that nature in years, she still enjoyed the memory of it, of them, and she enjoyed seeing those same memories flash behind the cornflower blue of Rita’s eyes. 

Her request --which was proposed as such out of politeness and not because Rita had alternative options-- landed like a slap. The blonde reeled back, looking shocked, dumbstruck. Utterly speechless, which spread Bella’s smile wider. It was a rare day indeed when Rita Skeeter was at a loss for words. She’d have to mark it down on the calendar. 

“You,” she returned with a vixen’s grin, head tilted as she examined Rita’s expression like a cat would potential prey. Biting down on her bottom lip, she grabbed her by the hip again and stepped in close once more, erasing the small space Rita had put between them. “Cissa will be my Maid of Honor, of course, but there are so few others that I’d care to have beside me. You, Rita, are among those few.”

She pushed a blonde wave away from Rita’s face and tucked it behind her ear, her fingers caressing down the angle of her cheekbone before she dropped her hand again, musing, “What do you say?” Her smile was impish, already knowing the answer, knowing she’d accept nothing other than the answer she wanted. 

“Ah,” Augustus said, nodding his head in cool understanding. “That makes sense. Would it really be a wedding without mass-poisoning?” It was impossible to know if Bellatrix was being serious but both options seemed equally likely. Narcotics were as much a part of pureblood culture as the preoccupation with surnames and excess, going hand-in-hand with the latter. Green eyes met his and he laughed. Wouldn’t put it past her. When he had been a younger man, he had been prone to similar vices, fueled by boredom and a primitive curiosity. But since the war, since the nightmares began, Augustus had given up many of his old habits.

“Your new position as the Lady Lestrange has softened you, sweetness,” he joked, letting his mouth linger around the sibilance of the word. Enjoyed how it felt in his mouth. Sweet, when Bella was anything but. The truth was Rodolphus and Bellatrix were good to him, their generosity boundless as they shared hours with him, winding them away in comfortable drawing rooms and decadent restaurants, on beaches and in cavernous rooms of stone, working towards a common goal of supremacy. If it was a relationship of convenience, then Augustus would continue to wield himself like a blade for them, sharp and deadly.

They fell into the familiar movements that Augustus had learned years ago, at Hogwarts. Feet that were too big for him then stepping on the toes of a sixth year girl, her expression unimpressed despite his best efforts. Could still feel the sweat on his brow, hear the coarse peals of Antonin and Walden’s laughter, after all these years. He had gotten better since then, and Bellatrix was as graceful as a swan, her movements effortless. She was the very same when she walked, when she fought and Augustus took a moment to enjoy it, watching her.

“On a sex swing? At his age? Kinky bastard.” Augustus bit back, as they reunited, feeling the softness of her hand in his as the other moved to the heavy lace at her waist. In his peripheral vision he could feel people watching him and he soldiered on, determined to get to the end of the dance without mishap. “And yes,” he agreed furiously, “I think I must be. I’m feeling terribly honest and this whole evening has given me the strangest feeling in my chest. I must be dying.” Augustus said, landing on the only logical conclusion, mouth turning down at the corners as he pondered his untimely demise.

Even through the cloudy haze of his mind, Augustus knew the feeling that inhabited him. Felt it acutely though the words would never cross his lips. He was lonely. A vast and bottomless feeling that on a normal day, sober and cogent, he could fill in with any number of distractions. But he was bound to it, fated to it, the aloneness, and the whole evening had just shown him how immense the feeling could be. Like a gas, it expanded to fill the room and Augustus was drowning in it.

The pensive way she pursed her lips was playful, same as the way she narrowed her eyes on her handsome dance partner. “I should hope not,” Bellatrix replied, allowing the laughter in her eyes to bubble to the surface at his horrid accusation of her having gone soft. “I would flay your flesh for even suggesting it, but it would be such a waste and I suspect Rodolphus would disapprove.” She pinned him with an impish smirk, knowing full well that of the short list of wixen she’d pause to raise her wand against, Augustus sat near the top. 

By the grace with which Gus moved, it would have been difficult to tell that he disliked these events, the dancing. Yet here he was, gliding with her, moving across the floor like it was ice and they were skating its surface. The man was piss drunk and he still moved like the air around him bent to his will and reality bent to his machinations. She couldn’t help her smile as he twirled her, spun her away from him and caught her again, their conversation continued without missing a beat, their feet moved without misstep.

Grinning at his rebuttal, Bella shrugged. “One is never too old for great sex, Mr. Rookwood.” She watched as his brows bent in and his expression narrowed with thought, with distaste. Another laugh left her in a flutter as he agreed, bemoaning his unfiltered honesty. “You do not have my permission to die. Not tonight. Not here. What you do on your own time is your business, but I will not have you dying on my wedding night. Understood? Besides, we have great things to accomplish. If you die I will take credit for all of your hard work and history will forget you.”

The truth of the matter was that Augustus Rookwood was very dear to her, and she would not think too much on the pain a world absent him would cause her. Their Cause would be crippled without his brilliant mind, and her life would be cold without the warmth of his companionship. Bella’s grip on his hand tightened and she stared up at him, smiling with uncharacteristic softness as she searched his face. 

As the song neared its end, the final act of their little show for their staring audience, Bella imprisoned his black coffee gaze with hers. Her grip on his hand and his shoulder tightened, her expression still quiet and considerate with her confession, “I hope you find a me, Gus.” She didn’t let go of his gaze, didn’t let him look away from her as she said, “Even if ‘a me’ is not a person, I hope you find your happiness.” 

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, pet,” he replied complacently, knowing again how it made her seethe. It was like giving her a verbal pat on the head but it showed he was entirely unruffled by both the insult and the nails digging into his arm.  He smirked at her sigh of relief, knowing he had found the perfect refuge for her. As if there had ever been any doubt.

He gave his commands to the House Elf that appeared at his summons. The thing bowed and scraped, muttering exhalations to his magnificence until he dismissed it to its errand.

He took the hand she reached out to him, rubbing the back of her hand with a strong thumb as he took his own seat. “I’ll be sure to let Rod know it was me you wanted at your deathbed,” he teased. He waggled his eyebrows over her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he returned it to her.

“Watching is its own kind of entertainment,” he replied noncommittally. “The food and music have been perfect, of course,” he added, with a nod of deference to her. He knew Bella was a demanding task mistress, so he expected nothing less than the perfection this evening had achieved. “But as for what you are asking…there are far too many women here who would like to have me enjoy them, and even more of them who would misunderstand if I showed them any attention.”

They were all hopeless romantics, each one thinking that they at last would be the one to catch the Dolohov heir’s eye. A few might be content with just a night of fun, but he wasn’t about to take a chance on being wrong. It just wasn’t worth it when he could amuse himself anywhere to choose a woman who he might not be able to get rid of later.

The calloused pad of Antonin’s thumb brought a smirk to her lips as it scraped over her knuckles in a gentle caress. Bellatrix’s smirk grew, all that was missing were fangs to make it truly fiendish as he promised to relay to her new husband who she’d asked to sit with her in her dying moments. “Better that the last thing I see of this world is truly horrid, utterly stomach turning, so there is no doubt that I am going to a better place.” 

She bit her lip, eyes ablaze with hellfire as she grinned up at him. As he lowered his mouth to the back of her hand, Bella purred, “Dearest Annie, what could be more horrid than you?” He dropped her hand and she snickered as she pulled it back into her lap. 

As Dolly expressed his impartial observations of the night, Bella leaned forward and undid the straps of her heels, listening to him speak as she removed her shoes one after the other. “Of course,” she returned, smirking at his complement, glad to take it from him even if she knew he’d said it solely for her benefit. Heels abandoned on the floor at her feet, Bella tucked her legs beneath her and made herself comfortable in the cushioned seat, unconcerned with propriety or decorum. Her feet were starting to ache, and she was hungry. She’d worry about what was “lady like” after she was fed. 

“Too many women,” Bella repeated with a laugh, shaking her head at the man. “Leave it to you to be dissuaded by women falling at your feet. Why is what they understand a factor? Take what you want, to hell with the rest. Hasn’t that always been our way.”

Though Bella was barely touching her, Rita was aware of the pads of the other woman’s slim fingers on her skin all the same. The slid along the bones hidden beneath her skin with a soft touch that was unlike the witch herself.

They created a slight tickle in Rita’s chest, her body, that made her almost want to squirm. And yet when it was gone, Bellatrix’s hands having slid down to Rita’s hands, she felt the loss of just those two fingers most acutely.

Rita was hardly pining for the beautiful bride. They were just friends with a long and storied history, a chemistry that could not be denied. They understood things about each other that outsiders would not, for all the world sometimes those two Slytherin girls determined to make their mark on Hogwarts. But of course, both of their ambitions had outgrown their old school. Now, they wanted the world.

“I would hardly call any of your or Rod’s friends good to begin with,” she commented, a laugh hinted at in her musical voice. “Who indeed to choose from amongst your groomsmen?” she mused, a finger tapping her cheek in thought. “I suppose I could give the younger Lestrange. a reason to not feel entirely too forgotten in his brother’s shadow,” she teased. “Evan is spoken for, did you know?” she added, raising her brows at the dark haired beauty.

“And that cousin of Rodolphus’ is clearly enamoured with his witch. Haven’t I seen her at the Ministry before?” Rita shook her head, ignoring any thought of business that would interrupt them. “Augustus is wholly afraid of me, you know?” she added, grinning at Bella. “As I’m sure you were aware beforehand, which is why you paired us up to walk down the aisle, hmm?” Her friend might think herself devious, but Rita had a mind just as conniving.

“I suppose that leaves the delectable Mr. Dolohov, though even I am not entirely sure I want to risk his eternal wrath for some potential pleasure.” There was something about the man that put Rita on her guard. She had no doubt he would be magnificent in the sack, but she did not want to become just another lay for him. It would completely negate any of her credibility which she would need should she ever do business with him in the future.

“In any case, as you said, there are plenty of handsome men to choose from. And just as many beautiful women,” she simpered.

Her chortle was equal parts wicked and amused. If Rita only knew the truth of her words. No, hers and Rods friends were certainly not good. Not in terms of morality. But she suspected most, if not all, would be a good lay, at the very least. “Good, no, but handsome. And, really, what more do you need a man to be?” If tonight’s excursions were rooted in pleasure, what was morality compared to stamina and creativity? Bellatrix would prefer a good fuck over a good person. She was fortunate that Rod was not good, but great in his every characteristic.

Simpering, if Bella had a tail it would have been swishing in delight as she watched Rita tap her chin and consider the groomsmen. “Oh, how thoughtful of you, Rita,” she agreed, considering Rabastan and how the two might play. “Rab certainly does deserve a reason to smile tonight beyond having a beautiful new sister in law. And I know you will be more than able to put him through his paces.”

At the topic of Evan, Bella cocked an eyebrow. “I had heard he was enjoying himself. But ‘spoken for’? By whom? What do you know?” She didn’t soften her demand with a grin, but there was sharp mischief in her narrow eyes, a plotting hunger that felt familiar to their traded secrets from years ago. 

Bella hummed when the subject changed to Fenrir and his witch. The polyjuice had done wonders to make him appear more human, like he was just another aristocrat in a sea of notoriety. The truth was that he was still feral under that sheep’s skin, and all that kept his leash taut was his sense of loyalty to Rod. It was a miracle he’d kept from killing anyone, and she suspected that his witch played a large part in that, too.

“I believe so,” said Bella in answer to Rita’s musing about having seen Arielle around. “Though I’ve had rare occasion to speak with her, so I’m afraid I’m not the best resource for information.” 

She didn’t know whether or not Rita would interpret that as encouragement to investigate further and, frankly, she didn’t care. Rodolphus had sworn that he and she would protect the witch from harm, but they couldn’t very well protect her from the world. If she was to be with a man like Fenrir then she would have to learn to protect herself. Rita’s tenacity was sure to be the least of what would threaten her during this war. Call it a trial run, and out of Bella’s hands.

Her thoughts were broken up by a cough of laughter. “He’s what?” She tried for an innocent expression, to pretend as though she actually hadn’t known, but Bella threw her head back and laughed again, positively tickled. 

Gus, would be afraid of Rita. The woman was relentless, and the man had secrets upon secrets upon secrets. Bella, who considered herself to be a close friend of his, knew that even she was only aware of a fraction of his trove. “You must take full advantage of that, Rita. Please, for me, hound him as much as you’d like. With my blessing.” Of course she’d paired them together on purpose. Bella had planned everything about tonight with purpose.

“Oh, you could handle him,” replied Bella a little wryly at the topic of Annie. Was she setting Rita up for failure? Well, she had nothing but confidence in her friend’s ability to face anything and anyone, even Antonin Dolohov. She had her doubts whether Dolly would give into the morsel that was Rita if she presented herself to him but, if he did, she was sure they would both enjoy themselves. So long as Dol Face didn’t break her friend. 

Lips pursed, Bella amended, “Best not to risk it, though, hmm?”

It was a testament to their…friendship…that Rita did believe Bella. She appreciated the other woman’s staunch support. Even if the Black heiress had a certain reputation of her own, her words still held power. In spite of, or because of, who really knew? And who really cared. Rita certainly didn’t. The woman was a force of nature all on her own, and could make or break careers if she so chose.

“I always show off for your benefit, Ms. Black,” Rita replied demurely, eyelashes dipping down to cover the amusement sparkling in her eyes. They liked to impress each other, illustrate what power they had. Even back in school, they had played off each other. Rita might be a year older, but she had found a kindred spirit in Bellatrix that had lasted long after they left Hogwarts behind.

She tightened her hold on Bella’s arm again, showing her gratitude in more than words. Shoulders, hips, arms pressed against each other, as they walked. She had no doubt Bellatrix would do it too, striding into the Daily Prophet to berate any who dared to actually follow through on their threats to fire the blonde. It was a tempting scene, to be sure. But Rita didn’t need to assert her dominance or her connections in quite that way yet. Let them all wonder instead how she got such wonderful tidbits from such well known sources.

Rita laughed along with Bella, their eyes meeting in shared memories. She nodded at the enlarged circumference of her fingers appreciatively, humming low in her throat. She knew quite well how Bella needed–and liked–to be satisfied. Oh how they had teased the boys at Hogwarts, few of whom had ever really measured up.

She sighed, huffing out the exhalation. “It really is a little much,” she admitted. “After the initial reports, drawing it out is just common. They’re trying to find even more to report on to keep the story alive. I’ve even been asked to do a biographical piece on the two men. Which of course, I’ll do. Must keep up with current events and all that. But once that’s done, there’s frankly no point in writing anything further until the Aurors have any leads.” That they cared to share.

Just because Rita wouldn’t continue writing about it exclusively, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t still go poking around for information. The Aurors were all just so notoriously closed mouth about things. She’d never find anything out if she didn’t go after the information herself.

“I have no doubt that if any event could put a war on hold, it would be your wedding,” Rita said dryly. And it was true. No one would dare do anything to risk drawing the combined wrath of the Blacks and the Lestranges, and that is certainly what would happen if anything unplanned were to occur on their wedding day. Frankly, Rita was looking forward to being able to focus on one thing rather than running herself ragged trying to keep up with it all.

Rita’s gaze darted down to Bella’s lip pulled between her teeth, and she sucked in a breath. For Bella did like to hear her beg. Of course, Rita enjoyed the same. They were each such strong, independent women, that being able to drive the other to distraction was an intoxicating success. But that was an inappropriate thought to have when they were going in for Bella’s fitting, and talking about her wedding. Not that inappropriate times or places had ever stopped either of them before.

“Oh dear, however will I manage that?” she asked, again, sarcasm lacing her town. “Compliment you further? Such an ordeal for me,” she sighed heavily, all the while making a mental note of the details Bella did slip to her. For which she was grateful. Even knowing that much would put her well ahead of the other gossipy hopefuls.

Rita winked at Bella as she waltzed past her, swaying her hips as she took in the different robes and dresses on display. She quite liked the image of that, Bella holding a door open for her. It meant nothing between them of course, but for anyone watching…And someone was always  watching. The place smelled faintly of lavender. Rita inhaled deeply, finding it not unpleasant.

They shared an amused look at the nervousness of the shop attendant. Bella certainly had that affect on people. Rita had actually modelled some of her affectations after the Black witch. Hand clasped in Bella’s, she tickled her palm playfully as she followed her up the stairs. Rita was feeling almost giddy at this point. Not only because al of this was fodder for her column–though still keeping it vague enough to keep Bella and her family satisfied, and her readers drooling for more. No, she was also happy at this opportunity for her and Bella to spend time together, for as the other witch had said, it was too rare of an occurrence lately.

“Do they,” Bella casually wondered, glancing sideways at her beautiful companion, expression interested but impassive. “Have any leads, I mean. From what I’ve heard, the crime scene was savage. Surely the attacker must have left something behind.”

Knowing how persistent Rita was, how relentless and unyielding, if anyone could gather that kind of intel it was Rita. Though the Rebellion had eyes in nearly every department, they’d yet to infiltrate the Aurors. What they knew and wouldn’t share was still protected information. She’d have to speak with Rodolphus and their inner circle about that. There had to be a way for them to spread their roots there. It had to be a priority. 

A shake of her head dismissed her musings and returned her to their conversation, to talk about her upcoming nuptials. Bella laughed lightly at Rita’s dry remark. “What can I say,” Bella rebuked, winking at her friend. “People love a wedding.” And many loved to hate her which meant that the public’s interest would be infinite, and distracting enough that they’ll forget the war for one night. Just the one. Her gift to them all.

Her smirk grew at the way Rita regarded her mouth, how her blue eyes dilated as she watched the way she nibbled her bottom lip and memories of what her lips and teeth could do when she wielded them against her. Oh, Bella had always loved to make Rita beg. She missed the sound of it sometimes. She nearly reached up between them to brush her thumb against Rita’s own bottom lip, but they were already at their destination and she would have to wait a little while longer to tease with her old friend. 

Once inside and ushered upstairs, she squeezed Rita’s hand to stop her tickling finger, the brought her hand to her mouth to gently bite her knuckles in warning, a softer warning than the burning mischief in her eyes. A threat she had to hold off on as Gustav was brought into the room and formally introduced before guiding both her and Rita to the fitting room where they could discuss her ideas for her dress before he got around to sizing. 

As the tailor flitted out of the room in search of his portfolio, Bella turned to Rita and grinned, “Rita, my love, there’s something that I’ve been meaning to ask you. And you mustn’t feel any obligation to say yes to me, understood?” It was a lie. Bellatrix would not accept anything but her compliance, wouldn’t hear anything but her submission to her will. She still reached forward, a hand on Rita’s hip as she stepped into her space and grinned at the blonde. 

Bellatrix was a tour de force and Augustus suspected that it would be impossible to deny the woman if she had chosen to direct her will towards anyone. She simply didn’t take no for an answer. It was, Augustus suspected, what made her so powerful. “The luckiest wizard, the luckiest man.” Augustus’ voice was easy, watching her pour over an antiquarian book of his on classical Egyptology.

And then she spoke about the x-ray and science and he felt the validity of his words in every fibre of his being. The universe in its marvelous disinterest had dropped the most sublime aide that Gus could ask for into his open hands. Bellatrix loathed muggles. For her to lower herself to reading about science indicated just how taken she was with Gus’ research. It was beyond flattering.

But any thought of x-rays and science and fate scattered as Bella revealed her gift to him and her words registered. The world tilted on its axis, dark eyes twisting to look at Bella incredulously. There were lines in the sand. Lines that Augustus had never dared to cross because they were the same, fundamentally. Augustus and Bellatrix and the blonde witch that had been snatched by the Black heiress. Whisked from her bed or a dirty alley or from wherever it was that she had found her. They were the same, even if Bellatrix didn’t think so. But more importantly, there were repercussions to snatching witches. Of course, mudbloods had been disappearing for years, what was another body? But suppose this girl was related to someone important. Suppose she was tracked back to Gus.

“Where did you find her, Bella?” Augustus was standing slowly, fingers running a considered hand through his cropped beard as the frown curled on his brow. He had examined magical brains before, whatever he could pick up from a murder scene or tragedy. But never living, never. Oh. Dark eyes, liquid blackness, met Bella’s feral grin and she was right. He felt breathless, her giddiness infectious. The risk was entirely worth it.

Throwing his head back, Augustus laughed. Hands pressing to his eyes in disbelief at the sheer brutality of Bellatrix, sagging against the back of his cream sofa. Her ferocity. The bare-faced gaul. “You wicked woman. You terrible, brilliant witch, oh you’re going to get us thrown into Azkaban.” He crowed, smile splitting his face in two. He wanted to hug her, wanted to thank her and celebrate her, return the favour in any way she pleased.

What would they do with her? Straightening up, he moved back to Bellatrix’s gift, surveying her teary face. She struggled against her bindings, silently wilting under his fierce gaze and he wondered momentarily how this girl perceived him. Like a mad scientist, or some monster, when all he wanted was to understand. To level the playing-field or prove, with uncompromising fact, that muggles were lesser. Chemically, genetically.

“We are going to have to be strategic with this, Ms Black.” He said after a moment of consideration. Turning, he looked at Bella, eyes bright and body thrumming with excitement. “She will need to be looked after with the utmost care. I need her faculties intact.” There was a room in his father’s house that he could turn into a safehouse of sorts. Would give her a bed and food. Keep her alive until she had exhausted her uses. “She will be our control, the measure we use against squibs and muggles.”

“But first, we need to get her to my house in Suffolk. After you have finished your drink, of course.”

Wide eyes landed on her, a hundred questions swirling like ink in their depthless umber. The sight of it, of his incredulous expression, Bellatrix positively beamed. She swished her skirts, grinned against the lip of her glass, and laughed a jovial, self satisfied cackle before drinking the delightful zinfandel. 

It was one thing, of course, to snatch muggles and squibs, to steal them from their rats nests and make better use of them than their miserable existence would have ever amounted to. But to take a full blooded witch, even if that blood was tainted, impure, a defilement to wixen-kind? Well, it was another thing all together. It was also necessary, if they were to progress in their experiments, if they were to understand what had gone too long unexplored. Magic had to come from somewhere, something physical, a gland or hormone or an adaptation in the brain’s ridges. 

They could not understand magic’s source if they only experimented on non-magic users. What was a mudblood when knowledge and power hung in the balance? A stepping stone, a rung in the ladder, the difference between what was probable and what was possible. They needed this. They should have done it sooner. 

Contentedly sipping her wine, Bella licked the residue from her lips before answering his question. “Turning tricks in Knockturn Alley. It was new to it, too, I think,” she mused, tilting her head as she examined the slender blonde, remembering how uncomfortable it had looked in it’s tight, revealing dress, hair pinned back to show a pretty face whose grey eyes weren’t as dead or broken as the other working girls in Knockturn’s redlight district. “No protection, no spotter, no one in the world to notice or care. Isn’t that right?” Bella cooed before laughing again, swishing her skirts as she spun away from the teary test subject. 

“It thought I was interested in playing, Gus. Can you believe it?” Shaking her head, she returned to perusing his trappings, nursing her wine as she did so. Bella didn’t look back at him as she flicked Saturn on the brass orrery and sent the whole system spinning. “I went with it up to it’s room and offered a flask of whisky to calm its nerves.” He was a smart man, and could fill in the rest. It had all been too easy, if she were being honest. Bella had hoped for more of a challenge, but it was done, and now the real work could begin. 

His laughter drew her focus back onto him, a grin already on her lips before she could call it forward. The sound of his laughter made her blood glow, effervescent and luminous, she was giddy with his amusement, his approval --as she couldn’t believe that it was anything else. “Kind of you to notice, darling Rookwood. Though Azkaban will have to wait until our work is finished.” And if they did it, if they did this, the steps they took would mean little compared to all they stood to accomplish. 

And she doubted the Dark Lord would punish them for it, in the end. Once the world was remade, they would be kings and queens. They would be untouchable by the laws of the past, above its reproach as well.

She watched as he lifted himself from the sofa and crossed back to the chest where their test subject still lay, teary eyed and useless. Bella watched as he inspected it, as thoughts unspooled in his mind, a plan already forming. “It can stay in the trunk while we transport it,” she offered at his insistence that they be strategic, still smirking in lupine delight at the glittering excitement in his eyes, how it brightened his face, toyed with his mouth. “We will give it all it needs to live, though we should also take the necessary precautions to ensure it doesn’t sabotage our work.”

Glancing down to the trunk, Bella mused, “We wouldn’t want it to end its own life before we get anything useful out of it.”

Times like this Evan was eternally grateful that his parents never had another child; oh he was sure they likely tried, but having a first-born son meant their name was safe so there was no desperate need for another child. Their decision likely only solidified after they realised just how talented he was. His Aunt had three daughters and one of them was becoming more of a failure everyday.

Evan chuckled and shrugged, “It’s rather hilarious, dear Cissa’s backbone only seems to come out when she’s dealing with you or Andromeda.” More often than not she even bended to Evan’s will, though that was more often than not only done so he’d move the conversation along and then she was back to her old ways. “If you truly love me, you’ll pour a memory of the conversation into a Pensieve when it’s all over and let me watch the ensuing hissy fit.” Since there was no other word that would do for seeing the Black siblings go at it with one another.

Though, while Narcissa’s prim and too proper attitude was more likely a comedic spat, Andromeda was far more concerning. She’d done nothing overt as of yet but Bellatrix was as sharp as him; if Evan had noticed worrying behaviour she’d likely seen it before him. Sirius had been a lost cause by his first year of Hogwarts, Walburga and Orion did an awful job at parenting there, hence his decision to ensure Regulus didn’t stray.

He smiled at her, a smaller, more truthful looking thing despite him not truly feeling much behind it. “And I will be there.” It’d be a fun show if little else to see a disappointment in this family be dealt with the proper way. “Well, best to avoid the whole thing and ensure she does as she should, if anyone can conjure that change in her it would be you.”      

He pouted for a moment before dropping the fake expression and chuckling once again, “I do, I honestly do. Though my choice between giving and taking… violence,” he smothered the word in innuendo, “Depends on who I’m with. I rarely get to have that kind if fun. My reputation, even the more, risqué aspects, must be above reproach so I become what my partner at the time needs.” he took another swig of his wine, “Being a patient lover is mind-numbing, I’ll never understand if that’s all a person can cope with being.” If there were no nail marks then neither side had done enough.

“Do you know I once went down on a woman for twenty minutes?” he said dryly, “By the end of it she couldn’t even remember her own name,” and that had been an ego boost to make up for his time. “If Rod’s game in that department ever falls below par just send him to me, I’ll give him a crash course.” he smirked impishly, “It’s all well and good having the passion for the act but one must have the skill to back it up.” He’d spend several night with several girls at Hogwarts, what better time to learn than the ‘awkward’ teen years.

“No, he didn’t. His loss I suppose,” he pouted once again, “But our little moment of intimacy was delectable. And I’m sure many would call it mindless, ill-planned. I wonder if the Dark Lord will be displeased? Still, my reasoning was true.” he poured another glass, “What self-respecting pure-blood would want to celebrate hiding ourselves from pathetic muggles as though we’ve any reason to live in the shadow. The whole idea disgusts me.” They were superior yet they were in hiding? Bah.

“So I wasn’t about to let such a frivolous evening go unpunished, the Order must’ve been there but they couldn’t stop us and they never will. We’ll take what we want, when we want. Such is the Dark Lord’s power and our power.” he smirked, “Someone? Someone’s my dear Bella. A delightful french lady, a professor of Charms at Beauxbatons, and her husband. Both came to visit their English cousins and by the end of it they didn’t have the time to meet them till the following afternoon.” he licked his lips, “The Madame was a ravishingly violent lover. Her husband less so but he took me with aplomb.” Even raised a brow at his cousin, “Not his first time with the act.”  

She sighed as she leaned forward, propping her elbow on the table and her cheek on her raised fist. “It must be tiring,” Bellatrix mused, openly regarding her cousin as he sat languid as a cat in the daylight pouring in through the breakfast nook’s expansive windows. “To pretend all the time. You are better liked than I am, I know that without question. But I get to be me. Varying levels of me, I suppose, but unequivocally me all the same.”

Evan’s chameleon-like powers of reskinning himself was a strength. Bella wasn’t arguing that, either. But to be one thing to one person, then an entire different thing to another, again and again, it sounded exhausting. And what if he was one thing to one person, another thing to another, and both people were somehow together? 

It was an unending, multifaceted ruse that seemed to her like a waste of time and energy. Instead of keeping up with his personas and lies, it would be simpler to be feared. She wouldn’t pretend to understand, and he seemed content, so she wouldn’t press it. 

An eyebrow cocked at the haughtiness of Evan’s tone. “Twenty minutes,” she repeated, rather unimpressed. Bella’s smirk was taunting as she lifted her cheek from her knuckles and sat back in her seat again, reaching for her wine so she could luxuriate in its richness. “Twenty whole minutes. My, my, Evan. Way to commit.” She snickered and shook her hair before combing the dark strands back, still amused by his arrogance, though she supposed it was incredible news for his partner that he did such a good job. Twenty minutes of incomprable cunalingus was considerably more appealing than need twenty minutes to climax at all. 

Her smirk turned into an outright cackle when he turned the topic onto Rod’s performance, going to far as to insist that HE give him pointors. Bella’s laugh filled the nook and the kitchen. Her amusement so overpowering that her stomach hurt from it, her eyes burned as tears tracked down her cheeks, and she had to double over the table, rest her face on its surface as she wrapped her arms around her middle and hid behind her hair as she succumbed to her laughter. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed, if it was seconds or minutes, but she was wheezing by the time she was able to unfold herself from the table, still chortling, coughing up small bursts of amusement. Bella sniffed as she wiped at her eyes with a breathless, “Give him a crash course,” which set loose another bout of laughter she bit her lips against, snorting despite it, pressing her fingers to her mouth to stop the rest. 

Clearing her throat, she stifled her amusement and shook her head, wiping at her eyes again as she assured her cousin, “Rodolphus has passion and skill in abundance where I am concerned, Evan. You needn’t worry about that.”

A few deep breaths helped to resettle her as she listened to Evan muse over the rest, that Fenrir’s not fucking or killing him was his loss, and how thier woodland excursions would be persceived. Bellatrix shrugged, popping a grape into her mouth. “Not for nothing, but I happen to agree with you. The Wizarding Statute is a joke. We put ourselves in a cockcage and are patting ourselves on the back for it. It's ludicrous. Perhaps we needed the reminder that just because we chose to hide in the shadows doesn’t mean the shadows are safe.” She shrugged again. 

“Then why did you bring it up?” Augustus asked, feeling several steps behind in the conversation despite Bella descending on him just moments ago. There was always time to talk about art theft, always; Bella should have known that.  He cast a sideways glance at the grey-haired woman who looked more bemused than offended. Offered her a smile that he hoped looked rakish as he was led away.

Augustus pulled a face at the suggestion that the Lady Greengrass was trying to get him hitched. “Yes, well. What did you put in the fucking pudding because I swear I’ve been getting accosted all night.” He grumbled, sober enough to regain control of his expression, fixing his face into something more placid despite his poisonous remarks. As was the case for the rest of the evening, anywhere that Bella went, eyes followed and he was not about to show the woman up because he couldn’t hold his liquor. Though he suspected that Bellatrix was quite done with putting on airs and graces. That was much more Rod’s talent. Was Gus’ talent too when he wasn’t three sheets to the wind.

Catching sight of Bella’s head on his shoulder, hair falling loosely around her face, there was something in Gus’ chest that softened and cracked. Ached. A surge of feelings that he hadn’t felt in years. Decades. Because as much as he saw the way Rodolphus spoke of her, observed the way they looked at each other, Augustus had never really understood it, them as a unit. Rod and Bella. The Lestranges. Les Stranges, indeed, but perfectly matched. And then Bella was looking at him and Augustus was smiling, and it was then, in that very instant, he decided that he was far too drunk. Drowning beneath the thrumming weight in his chest.

Didn’t trust himself not to say something utterly ghastly so Augustus informed Bellatrix, “you’re going to regret asking me to do this,” before  spinning  the woman out and away from him, keeping a firm grip on her hand so she wouldn’t float away.  And suddenly they were dancing. Gus hoped dearly that he wouldn’t remember this in the morning, though he suspected that he might. Could get completely shitfaced and his memory refused to fail him. He moved as best he could to the music, and after a few seconds of utter misery, found himself enjoying it. He laughed as their hands met again and then refused to let go of Bella’s when he knew he should. “Suppose it would be quite nice y’know. Me having a you.”

Without looking up at him, Bellatrix pleasantly remarked, “In the pudding? Nothing. The truffles, however, are coated in powdered Euphoria Elixir.” If she was jesting, her tone didn’t give anything away. Nor did her expression when Bella turned her emerald gaze up onto Augustus, smiling her vixen’s simper. It was a wedding. Her guests ought to be enjoying themselves. 

She pat his arm, her touch conciliatory like he was a grumbling drake for her sooth. “Your suffering has been noted, Mr. Rookwood. Add it to the considerable tally of favors owed. One of these days Rodolphus and I will find the time to compensate you properly for all the sacrifices you make for us.” The edge to her tone was razor sharp and playful, a deadly duality. Sardonicism was in her affable grip of his arm, a direct contrast to her cutting sidelong gaze and arched eyebrow. 

She was fortunate, she knew, in having devoted herself to Rod at a young age. She’d been spared the pestering of Sacred Twenty-Eight matriarchs, hoping to pair her with their sons. Their engagement had come with its own challenges, of course --for years she had endured ceaseless interrogations of when that knot would finally be tied-- but it was different than the pageantry of purebred show dogs that bachelors like Gus had to endure. It was also the least of what he could suffer for her tonight. 

Bella knew his mithering was good natured, teasing, and she was glad to play along. So long as he knew that she would not accept anything less from him than this.

Buffing the edge from her smile, she allowed her expression to warm, embraced his proximity and the comfort of his strong, charismatic presence beside her. Bella tucked herself close to his side, rested her head on his shoulder, and sighed a contented exhale. There was something revitalizing about his company. Tonight had been fatiguing, had worn on her patience and tested her self control. She was tired of the pleasantries and chit chat. But, with Gus, she had to be no one but herself, and his company was exactly what she’d needed to recover from the rest. 

They made it onto the dancefloor and Bellatrix grinned at his warning, a laugh bubbling up from her ribcage as he spun her away from her, then pulled her back into his arms. Falling into the steps was as easy as breathing. She could tell by crease on his brow that he was counting, wringing his alcohol addled mind for the footwork for this dance. But, if it weren’t for that small tell, she wouldn’t have known that he was struggling at all. 

Rita loved seeing the soft side of Bellatrix that so few got to see. Her smiles were usually predatory, eyes usually hard and glittering. But right now, with their eyes locked in the mirror, Rita only saw a beautiful woman, capable of great and powerful emotions.

She allowed her arms to be drawn around Belaltrix’s waist, sliding against the woman’s sides, the beads rubbing against her bare arms. It was not often that found them in such a relaxed, comforting position. Her breasts pushed against Bellatrix’s back, and she felt the lace scratching slightly at her chest, the press of the beads as they indented themselves onto her skin.

The release was natural, though they had always taken cues from each other when enough was enough. They were like cats that way, and in more than just their sometimes feline smiles and mannerisms.

She sucked in a breath as Bella’s lips drew closer to hers. The wicked tease that she was, she changed course so that only the corner of Rita’s mouth received pressure from the other’s succulent lips. As if she didn’t know what she was doing. Bella always knew what she was doing when it came to things like this.

“Oh yes, lucky,” she replied, rolling eyes. Rita’s gaze met Bella’s again as her tongue poked out to lick her lips, the corner where Bella’s had just been. She moved closer under pretence of looking at herself in the mirror to check her lipstick so that she was crowding Bella’s space. Her thumb lifted and swiped at the place where Bella had left a hint of her lipstick. She unconcernedly licked her thumb herself before meeting Bella’s eyes again, an innocent ‘o’ of her lips forming, eyes wide as if surprised.

“You do have very handsome friends, you and Rod,” Rita said, a non-answer to the question. “I suppose we’ll have to see who’s brave enough to try me,” the laugh was supposed to be light and full of mirth, but there was a tinge of bitterness for all of those who were too scared of the woman.

The smile that curled the corners of her mouth was twinged with nostalgia. It had been some time since they’d stood like this. They were not the girls they’d been in their adolescence, the curious, daring, teenagers that had learned so much about themselves and each other by playing their wicked little games. Bella found she missed it, sometimes. Her touch, the heat of her breath, the pitched sound of her voice as she became familiar with all the things that set her blood aflame. 

What their relationship had become in the years since Hogwarts was important to her, too. They were different women from the girls they had been, the games they played now were also different, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have their fun. Exhaling through her nose, she turned out from Rita’s arms to face her blonde counterpart. 

The kiss was chaste, incomparable to others they’d shared, and there was a teasing glint in Bella’s eyes when she pulled back. Incisors caught her bottom lip as she considered Rita’s mouth for a moment, the tongue that peaked out to taste where here mouth had just been, before shifting her gaze up to meet shadowed blue. Thumbs traced the pronounced line of the witch’s collarbone, smirking at the eyeroll that followed her words. 

Her hands glided over the round of Rita’s shoulders, down her arms to her hands, which she squeezed affectionately before turning away to face the mirror again. A feline simper immediately took shape as Rita moved in to crowd her. She watched with interest as Rita checked her lipstick, focus moving languidly from Rita’s supple mouth to her hooded eyes, her serpentine smirk coiled with mischief. 

“Not on your wedding day, my dear,” he chided, though with a smirk to match hers. She was Rod’s through and through anyways, and he was not the type to use another man’s plaything without permission. Besides Antonin didn’t usually like to share. 

His smirk grew, though he quickly hid it at the look in her eye. She did so hate to be spoken down to, which was probably why he did it. She did the same herself, always trying to get a rise or reaction of some sort out of him.

“Don’t I?” he challenged back, though his tone was mild. Eyebrows raised with the question. They both knew he did.

“You know I never did catch where you were going,” he teased as he steered her into an unoccupied sitting room. Frankly, Antonin only cared insofar as he knew where they were and how to reach them. Not that he was planning on interrupting them at all during their honeymoon. Bella and Rod when they were lost in the haze of lust that made others invisible was occasionally nauseating.

“There, now sit,” he said firmly, depositing her in a plush chair. “Was there anything you were particularly craving, or should I just have them make you a plate?”

“Annie, my dear, you are an ass,” she purred with honey sweet venom, digging her nails into his arm as they walked into a blessedly vacant sitting room, whose tall walls were lined with expansive bookcases and classical landscape paintings in gilded frames. Her exhale was pleased, intoned with relief. Bellatrix squeezed his arm a little tighter, gratitude in her grip. 

A glare cut up at him at his command, though she had no choice but to sit in the luxurious armchair he’d dropped her into. Knowing he’d ignore the ‘don’t tell me what to do’ in her sharp eyes, Bella answered his question with a terse, “I have no preferences, though the salmon smelled divine.” Her stomach made a loud, demanding garble at the memory of it. 

Placing a hand over her belly to stifle the sound, she pouted up at Antonin. “I’m wasting away, Doll.” She lifted a beckoning hand and purred, “Keep me company in my final hours.”

“Oh Bella, no need to get nasty darling, we aren’t those sorts of cousins,” he said wickedly, smirking at her through the pain, it hurt of course but Evan rather enjoyed pain, inflicting it, taking it, there wasn’t much of a difference really, a lesson he’d took rather a lot of pride in imparting to a young Bellatrix Black. But that had been decades ago, now the married woman before him was an expert in all things sadistic.

“If it’s any consolation to you dear I can finally let you in on the most interesting secret about the fun I was having.” Both he and Lady Dubois had decided to start making their affections a great deal more public since they’d decided they’d be a good match. They didn’t need their parents attempting to match-make them when they could find better partners on their own. And it was a truly excellent match, a Lady of the French pureblood elite and the cream of the British pure-blood elite? Both parents would die of happiness.

“You know better than most I’m rather resistant to the idea of marriage yes?” he asked lightly, spinning them around the room, “What would you say if I were to tell you I may have found someone I’d be willing to let make an honest man of me?” he smirked, dipped her and lowly added, “In another decade or two of course.”  

After all, Lady Dubois was very much like him in that she saw little benefit but heirs to marriage whilst single life offered a myriad of potential beds to lay in and fun to be had. Of course, they both knew heirs were needed and they’d provide, but only when they were ready.

“Only for you. No one suffers more than a bride on her wedding day.” he chuckled, “Would you like me to cause a distraction big and long enough for the two of you to have a quickie in the broom closet?” he asked lightly, “Or, you could endure a few more hours, let all that lust build and scream the manner down from the best room in the place?“ he smirked, “You’re a strong woman Bella. Bear through and think of Rod’s dick every time the urge to set a ridiculous guest aflame takes hold.”

He smirked, “She mistook may playful flirtation for a genuine offer and struck me, can you believe it?” he asked lightly, “For a moment I considered killing her but I know we’re all to be on our best behaviour.” Much as he loathed holding back, “I’m sure you’d be tempted to murder too if you’d been interrupted in the act and then hit for your efforts.”

“Yes,” she answered, narrow eyes fixed on Evan, interest bending her brows as she searched his eyes for the rest of the words, his expression for what his theatrics would drag out until she salivated for details. This was his wedding present to her, she thought, that for once in his miserable life he would cut straight to the point rather that tease her like she was a cat and his story was a string. 

They spun, the dance so second nature they needed neither the music nor to look down to watch their every graceful step. She stared into Evan’s roguish gaze and felt her own smirk rise to match his as an eyebrow cocked, impressed and surprised in equal parts. “I would say that the notion of anyone making an ‘honest man’ out of you is utterly hysterical. You could stare into the face of God, and He would shrink from challenge.” 

Bellatrix shook her head and scoffed at the thought. An honest man. Evan had shirked the idea of marriage for so long Bella had started to think he’d be like the Rebellion’s senior members, a bachelor until the end. He’d spoken of it before, of course, fulfilling his responsibility to his family and producing an heir. But for him to act on it at last? Merlin’s hairy taint. His mother would die when the news found her.

She wrinkled her nose at the time frame and rolled her eyes. “In that case, I hope Lady Dubois has a younger sister.” Wicked smirk finding its way onto her mouth once more, she observed, “In a decade or two you might find that she’s not the shiny toy she is today. If you’re not going to settle down with someone you love, they may as well fulfil your other needs.” Marriages like theirs were for strong alliances and heirs, and if Evan was going to be busy making heirs it had better be with someone who could get him hard and keep him hard. 

Another laugh chimed from her and Bella shook her head. His revelation had distracted her, at least. Thinking of Evan’s eventual betrothal had taken her mind off of the fun she wasn’t having with Rod. Not yet, at least. But, as soon as this miserable affair had finally met its end, she would put her husband to work and not let him rest again. Not until the bed and every surface in their suite was ruined. Not until SHE was ruined and couldn’t remember her own name. Even then, she wasn’t sure she would be satisfied.

“Believe me,” muttered Bella to her cousin as they spun about the dancefloor, “the thought of Rod’s cock is all that is getting me through tonight without bloodshed.”

This night was fucking dragging. The fat that they were only thirty minutes into the reception made it even worse. He was meant to enjoy the wedding night, the special moments shared with friends and family, showing off his new bride and all that jazz.

But frankly? He couldn’t give a fuck. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of here with his bridge, and ravage her. There was literally nothing better that he could possibly be doing with his time right now.

She was watching Antonin tell some lavish story about their past escapades, and he was watching her. Soft features and delicate expressions, leaning forward as if she actually cared about what he had to say. She probably did, that light in her eyes reserved for only those nearest and dearest.

He’d glanced back at Antonin for but a moment, pretending to listen when those soft fingers of hers found the hard line of his jaw. Pressing her lips against his cheek, he had to bite the inside of his lip to stop from growling at her. It was taking every ounce of control that he had not to snap and take her right there on the bridal table.

She tugged until he was facing her, eyes blue eyes locked with her own. Pressing his lips against hers, his free hand slid up to lock against her cheek, fingers curling around the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, letting the rest of the world slip away.

When she pulled back, he almost growled again… but then her hand found his thigh and the suggestion in her voice had him shooting straight up from the chair and excusing the pair of them without a second glance to the rest of the boys perched at the table. Tucked in against his side, Rodolphus happily lead his new bride out into the crisp, cool night. The grounds were filled with roses, his favourite flower and Bellatrix, in all her beauty looked absolutely resplendent against the backdrop.

“Have I told you again how beautiful you look in this dress?” Every time he looked her way, he was struck stupid by the sight of her. Over and over this evening, Rod had found himself wondering how on earth he’d gotten so lucky. Fate was truly smiling down upon him tonight.

Humming into the kiss, her body reacted to him on instinct. After over a decade of loving the man, it was reflex to part her lips for him, to invite him in and greedily take all he had to offer. The hand on his jaw moved to his nape, further, her arm around his neck as her other hand grabbed his lapel and pulled him in closer so she could drink in more of him until she was dazed and drunk and desperate for their marital bed. Or marital wall, couch, the table right in front of them. It didn’t fucking matter, would matter even less once his hands started wandering.

Their kiss earned whistles from the wedding party and cheers from the rest of the crowd, laughter quickly following suit when she and Rod were promptly reminded of their rather large audience and forced to pull apart. She nudged the tip of his nose with the point of hers, grinning at him as she lifted her hand from his lapel to wipe the smear of lipstick from his mouth. Bellatrix was almost beyond caring. These people had come for a show. They may as well give them one. 

Biting into her bottom lip as she watched her thumb swipe across his bottom lip, clearing away the smudge she’d left behind. A heavy exhale breezed from his nostrils and Bella shook her head, muttering, “Newlywed and surrounded by cockblocks.” Her chuckle was quiet, soft and warm as her gaze flicked up from Rod’s mouth to peer into those glacial blue depths. 

Hand dropping from his face to land on his thigh, she pulled further back to request his company outside these suffocating tapestries, low hanging chandeliers, and gilded architecture. Her husband was immediately on his feet and she laughed as he pulled her up beside him. The farewell given to their companions was brief before he was escorting her out of the main hall and onto the attached balcony that descended onto the groomed grounds, and toward the flowering gardens. 

The train of her dress dragged behind her as they strolled, along with the long, lacy sleeves that parted at her elbows and cascaded down in thin sheets of chiffon. Always so aware of him, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her as they walked together, the familiar caress as he took her in. Bella smiled to herself, the simper widening as he complimented the dress and how she looked in it.