Late in the hot joints, taking the pills….

Ever so subtly, he felt his power unraveling. It had started at the fingertips of his wand hand. A little discoloration and a few black spots under his nail beds were all that he had seen. Now, he wrapped black tourniquet cloth around his forearm to force some blood into his fingers. His hand was looking pale and it often grew numb. After taking his most prized possessions, the Dark Lord had taken to hiding in the home of the only follower he deemed worthy enough to house him: Bellatrix Lestrange.

Together in the parlor of her home, the coal-haired beauty tended to every single need of her guest. If he so much as speculated on whether or not he wanted something, she snapped at the house elf to bring the item. Her dark eyes glimmered with intense reverence, not the least bit deterred by how uninterested he seemed in her. Aside from asking for items, he spoke little since arriving a week ago and did not indulge her into details concerning the reason for his visit. Bellatrix never pressed him for details, nor did her new husband Rodolphus. Still, suppertime often felt tortuous as the three never conversed with each other. She was afraid to say anything that the Dark Lord would frown on. If her husband would just not come to supper one night, it would free her tongue. The couple had spent their wedding night staring at each other before agreeing to sleep in separate rooms for as long as they lived. While they had respect for each other, the idea of sharing personal space made both cringe.

With Rodolphus gone for the day to do who-knew-what, she had the house and the Dark Lord to herself; their house elf Treacle had gone with him. She had even altered her appearance slightly for the occasion, adding some color to her cheeks and prettying up her thin lips. Many knew her as a fierce and domineering woman so they, including her husband, would have laughed to see her act so ladylike. The magical paintings held scenes of the world such as the sea and the white cliffs of Dover rather than many portraits of their relatives. For this, she was thankful because no one could spy on her. He sat on her parlor settee while she had taken an adjacent chair, and she waited for any possible order from him since she had finished drinking her tea.  

He broke the silence. “Bella, bring me my black box.” The Dark Lord’s voice had a strange edge to it.

Eager to impress him, she made the box materialize on the coffee table. While tempted to lift the top for him, she thought better of that idea. There may be something very special in that box that he wanted to keep a secret. It never left his room, and he hissed quietly at any mention of it.

He seemed reluctant at first. Then, he lifted the top with his good hand. Inside laid a clear bag of white powder pristine as new snow. There was also a syringe and some strips of cloth. With great care, he prepared a solution of the powder in the syringe. “This, Bella, will expand your mind in ways that no potion in the world ever could. Give me your arm. Lift your sleeve.”

She did as she was told, exposing her supple pale skin. Though it was painful, she didn’t wince at how tight the tourniquet was. It was already starting to make her arm turn colors. The needle went in. The tube was white as he pushed down the plunger. The tube went red when he pulled it up, and it was still red when he pushed it down again.

The rush took her by surprise. So intense were the effects that she felt bile rushing into her mouth. Clamping her hands over her face, Bellatrix choked as she fought it back down. The last thing she wanted was to seem even the least bit weak. This must be a test of some kind. Why else would he give her such a terrible substance? She would stay strong and live up to her namesake. Even as her stomach churned and cramped, she swallowed whatever came up with each contraction. No matter how good her meal had tasted, the mixture tasted terrible the second time. She winced and moaned silently at tasting eggs and fruit a second time in the worst manner possible. Her throat burned, and she cursed herself as her eyes started watering. It felt long and arduous, but somehow she felt her body settle at last. There were locusts in her ears now.

From his pocket, the Dark Lord had pulled a galleon. After carefully dumping on more powder, he gave it to her. “Put this under your nose and breathe deeply.”

Bellatrix coughed violently shortly after, panicking for a moment because part of her face had gone numb. Her heart thundered like the hoof beats of a racehorse in her chest. But in moments, she realized the veil of mental haze that had been put over her world because it was suddenly lifted. Everyone who had ever accused her of being mentally unsound would be proven wrong because she had never felt saner in her life. The drug bolstered her spirits greatly as well, and she felt her tongue untie itself. The house around her seemed brighter, although that was simply her own perception.

She watched the Dark Lord give himself the same cocktail, mentioning that he knew this method as a “Colombian Rum-runner.” He gagged and coughed a little but otherwise seemed far more experienced with this little powder. A sudden vitality came to his eyes, an extreme excitement that she hadn’t yet seen since he came. The only time she ever saw that was when he performed magic. “Bella, you are far more loyal than any of my other followers. You are good and you are obedient.”

With her inhibition gone, she joined him on the settee despite all the shaking in her limbs. “My lord is the best lord there is. He is generous and wise. He is good and he is kind.” She felt herself entranced.

“Bella, only you can know this. You know what will happen if you breathe a word.”

Hanging on his every word, she leaned closer. “I am more loyal than all others. I am good and I am obedient.”

“This drug—my mouth speaks what I dare not each time.” With his good hand, he clutched hers so tightly that it turned red. “You must help me. I must teach you everything I know. It is Lily Evans who has done this, Severus’ damn treasure.” He shoved her away without any indication as to why. “She brought that man into our bed. The bastard child that Severus should’ve killed, that was her and her lover. I should have killed her long ago.” The strain of anger seemed to make him winded, and he took a breath. “She was a good pet but she had to be punished. She was a cute toy, and yet I was jealous. I have nothing to be jealous of.”

Bellatrix never knew about any of the affairs, but she got a good enough from his words of what had happened. She felt that without this new drug, she would have asked stupid questions rather than immediately locking into the truth. “You were right to kill that mudblood whore!” she snarled. “I saw her with other men. She was a mud-bitch.” However, Bellatrix was quite pure and beautiful and wise. She was pristine and she was good. She was obedient.

“She was a mud-bitch,” he repeated. “And yet I feel a fondness for her that I do for my other pets and that I do for snakes. I had used the Love Potion on her for so long that I think it began seeping into my own skin. I can almost feel it on my fingers, the little droplets that I was never careful with. ” The Dark Lord stared out the window before him, his face drawn into a contemplative expression. “Bella, I am filled with a profound anger and hatred. The world must be cleansed in fire. I carry such a heavy burden, trying to salvage this society of sin and apathy. Do you see how fat the Ministry grows?”

“I see it, I see it!” She sidled closer, snatching up his hand. “I see it, My Lord, even if no one else but us can! Not even Rodolphus or Lucius knows this. Not Narcissa, not Peter, not anyone but I!” Without thinking, she pressed his palm to her breast. “Trust me with your secrets, My Lord. Tell me all.”

He took the move as an invitation, and he rubbed the back of his hand against her exposed neck and shoulders. “I do not have much time here. The people around me grow stupid and rank with decay. This body is failing me because I am too much for it. I need a new form, a body more fit for me and my new order.” His eyes looked hungry. “You must help me create this new body.”

“I will happily create anything for you, My Lord.” There was something pulling at her. She had always felt this string between her thighs that ran up through her abdomen and to her ribs before coming out to move toward the Dark Lord. Now, she felt him yanking hard on that invisible string. “Tell me how.”

“Give yourself to me as Lily did.” He roughly caressed her face, smearing the make-up on her lips. “You must do as I say, Bellatrix. Our union will make another body for me.”

“Yes, yes, My Lord!” She didn’t care what was expected of her. She had married Rodolphus, and he wanted none of her. That had been the extent of her duty. If the man wanted children, he would find some. Rodolphus might have been her husband, but the Dark Lord was her true spouse. “Let me clean you of her filth, My Lord. I will give you a beautiful body.”

Grabbing her by the wrists, the Dark Lord sat her roughly on the Oriental rug. They inadvertently knocked over the coffee table nearby, although thankfully his black box had been set elsewhere for safe-keeping. “Bellatrix Lestrange, you are good and you are obedient.”

“Call me Bellatrix Black!” she gasped. “My Lord, speak to me in Parseltongue!” Her chest heaved as she thrashed about in her eagerness. Although expected to lay stoic, her fiery spirit could never allow such a thing. He kept her wrists pinned to the floor by way of magic while his hands touched what her husband never dared. In her moaning and lustful thrashing, she never noticed how he never met her eyes. She didn’t notice her virginal blood on the Oriental rug either.