Bellatrix exhaled an impatient breath and watched it turn white as the air transformed into mist. About bloody time. It had taken a fortnight of deprivation to lure her guard into the cell. He glided toward her, shrouded in his tattered cloak, barely visible in the moonlight filtering through the barred window set high in the stone wall. Prisoners couldn't cast a Night Vision Charm or any other spell in Azkaban.

She gazed up at the Dementor as he hovered beside the bed. "You missed me, didn't you?" she asked, shivering in the deepening cold. "Admit it. I'm your favourite." Other prisoners whinged about being forced to relive their worst memories. Bellatrix found pain added spice to life.

The Dementor crouched down. His breath rattled in her ear, his voice a hoarse demand. "Dream."

What he called dreams were actually visions. The Dark Lord had the power to implant them into victims' minds. Bellatrix was only able to experience her own fantasies. "I can't."

"Dream."

My, her guard sounded hungry. She said, "You let my mangy cousin escape. Hard to find any joy when there's no one to howl furiously when I cry out, 'My Lord, my Lord'."

The Dementor inclined his head. He appeared to be thinking, and proved intelligent enough to counter her statement with, "Husband."

She snorted. "It's been years since my passions tormented Rodolphus." The force of the Dementor's hunger pressed down on her chest, making each breath a struggle. Bellatrix gasped, "You'll have to be the one . . . to assist me." She grabbed the sleeve of his cloak, pushing it up to reveal grey skin and elongated fingers tipped with claw-like nails. No scabs yet. He must be young. She clasped his hand. "Show me your face." The Dementor leaned his head back, his hood sliding down to reveal the scars she'd inflicted her first day on the island. A year spent chained between walls like a ruddy virgin sacrifice had fixed her displacement issues. She stared at the gaping maw where a mouth should be and rubbed his glistening fingers against her cheek.

Instantly, a vision arose.

Rodolphus dragged Bellatrix out of the Malfoy ballroom to rant at her in the library, a common occurrence during the first year of their marriage. "You're making a scandal of yourself, chasing after him like a bitch in heat." Rodolphus's eyes blazed. His voice shook. "People say you'd crawl across the floor and lick his boots."

"Would you do that, my dear?" a coolly amused voice asked.

Her master's voice.

The Dark Lord stood across the room, just inside the library. Bellatrix tugged her wrist out of her husband's punishing grip. "Yes, my Lord."

Red sparks gleamed in his dark eyes. "Show me."

Bellatrix dropped to her knees and crawled sinuously across the Persian carpet. She'd crawl across glass or burning coals if he asked her to, and the taunting smile he gave Rodolphus revealed that he knew it. When she reached him, she said, "Mmm . . . Italian leather," and then bent to slide the tip of her tongue across the toe of his shoe.

"Bella," her Lord whispered. His fingertips brushed her cheek.

Joy pulsed through her at his touch.

The Dementor's grunts brought her to her senses. The sounds reminded her of a greedy animal feeding. The skin inside empty eye-sockets rippled and then stilled. He'd drained every ounce of joy from her, but traces of wonder at how real the vision had felt and dark humour remained. She asked, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

He adjusted his hood to cover his face and rose to his full, lofty height.

She wasn't intimidated. They were too much alike, both Dark creatures. Bellatrix wiped the moisture his fingers had left on her cheek and licked it. "Salty," she said, relieved. Better salt water than mucus. She'd never cared for snails, not even escargot. "The tears of your prisoners?"

"The North Sea."

He lingered long enough to suck the faint happiness that accompanied her amusement from the air before leaving.

.

The Dementor slipped into her cell four nights later. She placed his hand on her throat and imagined Rodolphus attempting to strangle her for crying out "my Lord" during sex. After that, her guard came into her cell twice a week. Soon, it was every other day.

"I'm going to call you Dolph," Bellatrix said one night after months of personal visits. "Rodolphus is my wizard husband, and you're like my prison husband, so you're Dolph unless you fancy a different name."

He tilted his head like an enormous bird of prey, considering her words. He touched his scarred cheek. "Dolph."

That's right. You're not the tamed creature the Ministry pretends you are. You're an entity with hungers the others prisoners can't sate. She moved his hand to her hair, showing him how to stroke the long, tangled strands. It felt like he was caressing her with icicles. He continued to run his fingers through her hair when she dropped her hand and closed her eyes. Bellatrix rewarded him by giving her imagination free reign to create a vision that left her shaking with manic joy.

Rodolphus dead in battle. Snape dead. Nagini dead. Bellatrix's Lord tracing her mouth with his fingertips, calling her his best and last lieutenant.

Even after the Dementor drained every positive emotion, she managed to smile a little. "Every time you're near, I hear his voice," she whispered. "Speak with your brethren. Tell them you will feast as never before if you join my Lord when he comes for me." She thought of all the people who deserved a Dementor's Kiss. Her cousin Sirius. Harry Potter. Every member of the Wizengamot. Every Auror. Every Muggle. Every Mudblood and blood-traitor. Tired as she was, excitement bubbled in her veins until the Dementor by her side dragged the emotion out of the air and into his maw.

"I even give you pudding for afters." Bellatrix giggled as the room spun. Her Dementor glided toward the door. She lifted her head. "Admit it, Dolph. I'm the best you've ever had." Gods knew his Dark touch triggered the most intense visions she'd ever had.

He nodded.

She passed out with a smirk on her lips.

.

Rodolphus, who only had the decency to die in her fantasies, finally noticed that she received special attention from their guard. Bellatrix curled her lip when he accosted her on their daily trudge around the prison courtyard, demanding she tell him what was going on with her and "that Dementor you've been getting cosy with in your cell."

"Dolph has visited me for nine months. I could have conceived and spawned an abomination in that time. That you've only now looked from your cell to mine shows how little you care." She wrinkled her nose at his sour body odour and took in his greasy hair and dirty robes. "Spent your lonely nights crying yourself to sleep, have you?"

Rodolphus gaped at her. "Wh-what did you call that vicious creature?"

"Dolph. I liked the thought of crying out his name if I ever got bored enough to allow you a conjugal visit." Dementors swarmed around them, drawn by her malicious glee. She moved closer. "Does the idea excite you? Would you like him to be in the cell with us?"

"You're . . . you're sick," Rodolphus said weakly. He licked his lips.

"We'll be together soon, lover." Bellatrix laughed and laughed until the Dementors converged upon her.

.

Rodolphus wept as he shuffled into his cell after their aborted conjugal interlude. Bellatrix sat on her pallet, absently tracing the lines on her neck that would become faint bruises at most. Her snivelling husband wasn't man enough to strangle her properly, much less perform marital duties. She watched Dolph return to her through hooded eyelids and stood to face him. "Give me what I need."

She sighed when his hands wrapped around her throat like bands of ice. A vision arose.

Bellatrix fought her way through the snow storm to reach the cottage where her Lord awaited. She didn't use Warming Charms. She embraced the cold. "Harder," she yelled into the wind. "Is that all you've got?" She began to laugh and was cackling madly when she staggered into the dimly lit cottage.

"You're late," Rodolphus snapped.

"I was cavorting with my lover, Winter." Bellatrix removed her cloak and ran her hands over the sodden dress that clung to her body. "As you can see, he didn't want to let me go."

"And your mission?" a silky voice asked.

"My Lord!" She fell to her knees and bowed her head, ashamed that she hadn't noticed her master sitting in the chair beside the fireplace. "Greyback's men are yours to command."

"Excellent. You may rise."

Rodolphus yanked her up. "Use a Drying Charm. You're indecent."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. "You're a bag of hot wind. I'll dry if you keep breathing on me."

A raspy chuckle sounded. "That reminds me of a wizard tale. The Wind and the Sun. To prove his strength, the wind attempted to blow a witch's cloak off, while the sun . . . ." Once he had Bellatrix hanging on his every word, her Lord lifted his hand and heat washed over her in rapturous waves to the point that she tore open her dress in her desire to feel his "sun" on her skin.

A wintry hand touching her shoulder woke Bellatrix.

"Drink." Dolf handed her a flagon.

She glanced at the label: Strengthening Solution. Her hand lifted to her aching throat. It would hurt like a Fire Crab burn to swallow. She drank the potion and hissed through her teeth. Unlike her husband, she had the bollocks to endure pain. A few seconds later, her physical strength returned. "Thank you."

Dolph, Dementor that he was, sucked her gratitude out of the air and left to continue his rounds.

Bellatrix drifted to sleep to the night music of prisoners' moans and Rodolphus crying, "You bitch," over and over.

.

The next morning, instead of the lukewarm nutrient gruel she was usually served, Dolph handed her a bowl of steaming porridge. She clutched it to her chest, staring at the pat of butter melting on top and the spoon stuck into the oats. Prisoners weren't allowed eating utensils; they'd use them to create weapons. He must have stolen this from the cook. A giddy happiness welled inside Bellatrix, and she quickly set the bowl out of the path of the frigid gusts that ruffled her hair and robes as Dolf fed on her emotions. Her porridge was barely warm when she started to eat, but it tasted like ambrosia from the gods. She wolfed it down before Dolf returned to drain the new bursts of pleasure from the air, freezing the bits of oats that remained.

That night, she wrapped her fingers around Dolph's wrists when he reached for her throat. His skin chilled hers. It reminded her of packing snowballs with bare hands. "Not a good idea, Dolphy. Strengthening Solution isn't the same as a Healing Charm. We'll have to wait." She sat on the mattress.

Instead of breaking her hold, Dolph perched next to her. It unsettled her how he could fold his body like origami. Didn't he have bones? She squeezed his wrists until she realised that her curious action could be misinterpreted as aggression and let him go. Dolf immediately grabbed her wrists and squeezed. "Ouch," she snapped. "I don't just get off on pain, you oaf."

She froze when she heard her master's voice.

Bella.

Her name was a command. She tried her hardest to Apparate. My magic is bound.

For now. When the time is right, I will set you free.

His presence in her mind began to fade.

My Lord! Her spirit reached for him. I need to feel your power. It's been so long.

Bellatrix could sense his detached amusement; almost see his thin lips curve mockingly. You entertain me in your fantasies often enough.

I need something real.

More amusement, but less disengaged, almost affectionate. So be it.

His power slammed into her. Bellatrix screamed in agonized ecstasy.

.

Her next exercise trudge became a shuffle around the courtyard as every Death Eater in Azkaban crowded around to hear her speak of The Dark Lord's intention to break them out of prison. They had the yard to themselves; too many other inmates would try to kill them with their bare hands if given the chance. A lone wizard monitored them from his post atop the wall. Dementors were the true guards.

"She's a fantasist. We've all heard her calling his name in the night," Rabastan said, pulling at his grizzled beard. He glanced around nervously. "Lower your voices in case some of the rocks are Recordbralls."

"Yes," she drawled. "Believe the paranoid over the lieutenant."

"My wife speaks the truth, brother," Rodolphus said. "I felt the surge in power coming from her cell. It knocked her pet Dementor on his arse." His hair was wet and slicked back. Merlin, had he actually showered?

Bellatrix wasn't certain she preferred "my wife" to "you bitch."

"Pet Dementor?" Suspicion twisted Dolohov's long, pale face.

"Soon to be The Dark Lord's ally, along with the rest of his kind," she announced grandly.

Behind Dolohov, Mulciber scoffed. "You're daft."

"Am I?" She removed a flawless green apple from the pocket of her robes and took a bite. "There's enough for everyone to have a nibble." She handed the apple to Rodolphus.

He brought it to his face and sniffed it.

"Smells like freedom, doesn't it?" she asked.

"You're eating the part that touched your nose," Rabastan told his brother.

"That's too big a bite," Dolohov said. He asked her, "How long will we have to wait?"

She bared her teeth in warning. "Until The Dark Lord is ready."

.

Weeks passed. Bellatrix pretended not to hear the whispered speculation that she was lying or insane, hearing what she wanted to hear in her fantasies. She asked Dolph to pay attention to what his prisoners said to each other or mumbled to themselves. To her surprise, it wasn't Rabastan or Dolohov stirring up doubt and resentment. Her enemy was Mulciber, an old crony of Snape's.

She gobbled her porridge the next morning and then returned the bowl but not the spoon. "I need your assistance with a craft project, Dolphy," she said, backing into a shadowy corner. The way she emphasised assistance, she might as well have rung a dinner bell. Dolph opened the cell and rushed toward her.

"Craft time first," Bellatrix said. She reached for his hand. "I have a use for these claws."

Rodolphus spoke to her once Dolph left to resume his patrol. "What are you up to?"

She peered at him through cell bars. "Didn't you hear?" Bellatrix was certain the sounds that came from her mouth when she'd envisioned gutting someone with a knife resembled sex noises. "I was creating an abomination."

Rodolphus swallowed hard—choking down bile, she hoped—and shook his head. "Whatever your plan, I'll help."

"Because I'm your wittle wifey?" She jeered. "You haven't offered husbandly support for ten years. Why now?"

"You've reminded me why I married you."

Her power and rank in The Dark Lord's inner circle: Rodolphus coveted that as much as her body. Bellatrix had married him because he was a wealthy pure-blood, and he was eager to be at her service. Rather like Dolph, and she would keep them both around as long as they were useful. She said, "Walk with Mulciber in the courtyard."

"On his left or his right?"

"Left. I'll walk on his right until we stop walking."

"And he stops breathing?" Rodolphus grinned. They'd waylaid victims in that manner many times in the past.

Bellatrix heaved a regretful sigh. "Not this time."

.

Mulciber quit denying his treachery once Rodolphus held his arms and Bellatrix jabbed the sharpened tip of her prison shank into the fleshy jowl that gave him the look of a hound. It didn't stop his bluster. "Killing me won't prove you aren't talking out of your arse, Lestrange."

She lifted the weapon that no longer resembled a spoon. "The Dark Lord will come, and I will repay you for each slur." Bellatrix cut his cheek, his earlobe, and his unmarked jowl—shallow cuts that would bleed and scar but not require a Healer. "Is that clear?"

"Yes." Mulciber slumped in Rodolphus's hold.

"Anyone else want to deny my connection to our master?" She pointed the shank at each Death Eater. They all shook their heads. She wiped the shank on Mulciber's robes to clean off the blood and then pointed the weapon at Dolph, who glided around the periphery of the courtyard. "That's my—what did you call him, Rodolphus?" She tapped her chin with the flat edge of the shank. "Oh, that's right. My pet Dementor." She sidled up to Mulciber and said in a stage whisper, "He's not pretty, but he's got a kiss that'll steal your breath . . . and your mind . . . and your soul." She pinched the earlobe she'd cut, causing Mulciber to wince. "Doubt me again and that moment will be your last."

"Oi! If you lot don't want exercise, the Dementor will return you to your cells," the wizard guard shouted at them from the wall.

Rodolphus released Mulciber's arms and clapped him on the back as though they were mates having a chat.

"That guard talks tough," Mulciber said. "But look how his wand arm's shaking." His deep-set eyes flickered to Bellatrix. "He should take lessons from you, Lestrange."

She tucked her shank away in a pocket. "Flattery will get you one less curse." She linked arms with Rodolphus. "Let us resume our promenade, gentlemen."

.

On the shortest day of the year, Bellatrix received an early Christmas present. Her Lord and master reached out to her. She awoke in the middle of the night when she heard his beloved voice speak her name. "My Lord!" She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, laughing and sobbing.

Calm yourself.

She couldn't. Her emotions were too raw, too fierce.

The rasp of her cell door opening and closing was followed by a welcome drop in temperature. Blind in the dark, she listened to the distinctive rattle of a Dementor feeding and pictured Dolf's maw stretched wide as he drew her hysterical joy into his lungs, bringing new meaning to the old Warlocks song I Want to Breathe You In.

Indeed.

She quivered in pleasure at her Lord's amusement until Dolf sucked the emotion away.

I do hope you'll be able to control yourself before he kills you.

Bellatrix bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. If she passed out, Dolf would likely give her another Strengthening Solution.

Dolf, is it? How . . . intimate . . . you've become with your pet Dementor. Let me see what you've been up to.

Images didn't flash into her mind. The Dark Lord saw all, knew all, while his targets remained unaware.

Such devotion to your master.

"Always." A tear she was grateful Dolph couldn't see slid down her face. "I long to serve you again."

You serve my interests now, seducing your Dementor, preparing my Death Eaters for my arrival.

Longing shook her. "Arrival, my Lord?"

After the New Year. He severed the link between them.

Fire burned in Bellatrix's veins until Dolph pressed his icy fingers against her heart.

.

Rain curtailed exercise for the next few days. Rodolphus tried to converse with her from his cell, but she told him, "No peeking at your gift before Christmas" and continued to hug her secret to herself while she paced. She attempted to conjure a vision of the future with her Lord, but only managed a paltry daydream of them toasting Harry Potter's death with goblets of the Boy Who Died's blood. Bellatrix couldn't conjure the passionate, immersive visions she craved without Dolph's touch. She gnashed her teeth over the irony of being dependent on the creature she'd schemed to make addicted to her.

On Christmas Eve, she told Dolph to sit beside her on the pallet. "If I stabbed you," she asked, "would you feed on your own pain?"

No.

He hadn't spoken aloud. She'd heard him in her mind as though he were her master. Bellatrix curled her fingers around the shank in her pocket. "Would you bleed?"

He tilted his head enquiringly. Maddeningly. She pulled out the shank and lunged. I'm not your puppet, fool. You're mine! Mine! She cursed and raged and stabbed until she was drained to the point she couldn't lift her weapon.

Her bloodless weapon.

A new wave of fury arose. "I'll torture you with Cruciatus Curses! I'll . . . I'll . . . ." She collapsed.

.

Bellatrix awoke with the kind of headache that normally followed an attempt to drain the Malfoy wine cellar.

"Happy Christmas, Wife."

Worse than Rodolphus loudly calling her "wife" was his cheery tone. "Bugger off," she grumbled. His cell wasn't close enough for him to hear her, but some things had to be said on principle.

"Your Dementor played Father Christmas and left you presents," Rodolphus told her. A tinge of jealousy edged his tone. "If you're still alive, you ought to drink whatever's in those bottles."

She turned her head and saw three bottles lined up on the floor: Strengthening Solution, Vitamix Potion, and a Calming Draught. Dolf, as a Dementor, was able to sense the state of her physical and mental health. Bellatrix reached for the closest bottle. She was as weak as a Squib, had missed at least one meal, and undoubtedly suffered from shock. Remedying her pathetic condition was the least he could do.

"It's lightly snowing, not raining today," Rodolphus said. "We'll be allowed to walk in the courtyard."

The Calming Draught took effect. Bellatrix raised her hand and made an OK sign instead of flipping him off.

"You were amazing last night," he nattered on. "I couldn't see anything, but I could hear you shouting curses and—" Rodolphus panted before gaining control of himself. "I'd like another conjugal visit."

The Vitamix Potion and Strengthening Solution gave her a feeling of strength and fullness. She wandered over to the door and looked at him. "With Dolph in the cell?"

Rodolphus's knuckles turned white as he gripped iron bars. "That won't work." His voice lowered. "He unmans me."

Bellatrix made sure her voice carried. "Dementors unman you?"

Coarse laughter echoed in the cell block.

"Bitch," Rodolphus said with a grudging smile.

She blew him a kiss as Dementors came to feed. It was Christmas, after all.

.

The Death Eaters were jubilant over her news of their Lord's imminent arrival. They showed it with clenched fists and blazing eyes.

Dolohov glared up at the wizard guard. "We should kill him to celebrate."

"He can't cast spells if we drag him off the wall," Mulciber said. He and the others looked at her expectantly.

"Find Rabastan a stone," she said, "I've seen him kill two birds with one."

"Two women?" Rookwood, a former Unspeakable turned spy, sounded impressed.

Rabastan muttered, "Grouse."

The group snickered while they gathered stones. Rabastan chose one of the smooth ones Rodolphus had found and then held out a hand to her. "I require your brassiere."

"Rally 'round, gents," Bellatrix said as she unbuttoned her robes. "Don't want to give the guard an eyeful."

"What about the rest of them?" Rodolphus asked huffily.

She shrugged. "Merry sodding Christmas."

The bra slingshot brought down the guard on the first try. Death Eaters stomped the wizard's wand into pieces before Bellatrix could grab it. She stood to the side while the others attempted to pummel the wizard to death before Dementors arrived en masse. Her cohorts didn't succeed, but the bit of fun, added to the day's news of impending freedom, lifted everyone's spirits. Dementors feasted on their excitement.

Since Dolph had gorged himself on emotion twice within twenty-four hours, she didn't expect him to visit her that night. Yet he did. The air turned frigid and mist seeped through her blanket as she pretended to sleep.

Dream.

She clenched her teeth so they wouldn't chatter. I don't hear you in my head any more than you hear me. I'm imagining things. I'm good at that. Been doing it all my life. It's how I survived the boredom of Hogwarts and this prison cell.

I hear you.

Her eyes sprang open. She fought down panic. If that was true, it was because her master had trained her in the Dark Arts. We need to get something straight, Dolphy. I control you. You don't control me.

His fingers curled around her throat like an icy choker.

.

Bellatrix awoke sprawled on the floor. She slowly recalled her vision of a Christmas at Malfoy Manor.

The Dark Lord's gifts to each person represented a secret desire that none could keep hidden from his Legilimency. Beneath the square cut emerald ring in Bellatrix's gift box, a scrap of parchment with a single word: Midnight.

She wore a black velvet dressing gown and nothing else when she tapped on the door of his room.

"Enter," he called.

Bellatrix slipped inside the room and halted. The husband she'd believed passed out drunk on a sofa downstairs was gagged and bound to a chair beside the massive bed. Rabastan stood next to him wearing only his boots and trousers.

Rabastan's eyes glowed red.

Bellatrix cried, "My Lord!"

He asked, "You weren't aware that your husband's greatest fear was also his secret fantasy? How many times he's dreamt of catching his wife and brother together?"

She shook her head. She didn't care about Rodolphus. "The ring." It was the wedding ring of her dreams.

The Dark Lord, red eyes gleaming within the appearance-charmed mask of Rabastan's face, said, "Lord Voldemort can never marry, never debase himself with human desires. He is above such tawdry concerns."

Her heart raced. "But Rabastan—"

"Will debase himself with his sister-in-law while his guiltily aroused brother looks on."

Bellatrix groaned. She'd never taken a vision to that level before. Her Lord would Crucio her. She flopped onto the mattress and drew the blanket over her head. She was too tired to fret over it.

"Your pet Dementor left you potions and food this morning," Rodolphus said bitterly in a voice that carried. "Had a big night, did you?"

"Shut up before the guards come," someone said.

"I heard the disgusting noises you made." Rodolphus's voice rose. "What were two you doing? Answer me!" He was shouting now. "Answer me, damn you! I'm your husband!"

The chill sinking through the woollen blanket heralded the Dementors' arrival. Bellatrix lifted the edge of the cover to see bottles and food—bread and cheese—and reached for the Strengthening Solution. She drank and ate while Rodolphus's curses became sobs that dwindled into whimpers.

Rodolphus confronted her the next time they were allowed to exercise in the prison courtyard. "You're nothing but a cow kept for milking."

He'd verbalised her fear, not that she'd admit it. She widened her eyes. "Is that why he always fondles me?" She cupped and squeezed her breasts. "I do adore the sensation of ice on my nipples."

Rodolphus slapped her—a decent backhand that knocked her off her feet.

She glanced up at the new wizard guard and hiked her skirts to her knees as she taunted, "That's right, husband, prove what a man you are."

Rodolphus unbuttoned his trousers.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Bellatrix cackled.

"Spoilsport," Rookwood yelled at the wizard guard.

"Return to your cells!" the guard ordered.

.

The "incident" cost them exercise privileges for a week. No complaints followed the pronouncement. They'd gain their freedom before then.

Bellatrix dragged her pallet to the left side of her cell where Rodolphus couldn't catch sight of her. He mewled for her to forgive him and rattled on about how things would change until the others shouted threats to make him shut up. She bit her fist to keep from laughing. She didn't want to draw Dolph's attention. She could use a few vision-free nights.

She was ready to bounce off the walls by the third morning. Restlessness drove her to pace up and down. Her bones ached and her hands shook. She'd spent two miserable nights sweating with the effort to concentrate on a single thought: stay away.

Drink.

Bellatrix suppressed the urge to run across the cell, pick up the bottles on the floor and hurl them against the nearest wall. You can lead a cow to water, you bloodless bastard, but you can't make her drink!

Drink.

A terrible thought seized her: what if he came into the cell to force the draughts down her throat? It was a guard's duty to maintain prisoner health. He'd touch her.

Touch?

Merlin, how had he heard that? Do NOT touch me. I will drink the damned potions. She dashed over and snatched them up, hurriedly backpedalling out of reach.

That night, she dozed off only to jolt awake at the grating sound of her cell door opening. She got out of bed. I don't want you here.

His fingers rested on her cheek like a layer of frost.

Need.

She cried out as the rush of Dark power coursed through her. A vision arose.

The Sword of Gryffindor was more than decorative. It cut through Nagini like a knife through parchment. Bellatrix admired the rubies set in the hilt almost as much as the ruby red blood dripping from the blade. She strode toward the enormous snake eggs piled on the sand in Nagini's den. "I will have no rivals," she vowed as she lifted the sword.

She was sitting on the mattress leaning against Dolph when Bellatrix became aware of her surroundings. He stroked her hair.

Petting the cow. She covered his hand with hers and then dug her fingernails deep into his skin. Never touch me without permission. You don't tell me what I need. I tell you. Is that clear?

Yes.

Really? Well, that was more like it. She let go of his hand and sagged against him. Keep stroking my hair.

.

A week later, she gasped in joyous pain as the Dark Mark on her wrist blackened and burned. Her cell door swung open. Dolf hovered in the doorway, his breath rattling as he drained emotions from the air. He reminded her of a pair of Slytherin boys who could always eat.

Come.

Bellatrix rushed toward him. I knew you'd help us escape.

Dolph led the way through the torch-lit corridors. She followed close behind him with Rodolphus and the others at her heels. When they finally exited the prison and reached ground free of anti-magic wards, The Dark Lord stood waiting.

Bellatrix drank in his majesty for one breathless moment and then fell to her knees. "My Lord! We live to serve you." The men knelt and echoed her vow of fealty.

Cool fingertips brushed the top of her head. She almost swooned. "Rise," her Lord commanded. When she and the others obeyed, they each held their wands in one hand and a piece of bone in the other. Amid the exclamations of delight and thankfulness, Bellatrix brought her wand to her lips. Her master had touched it, taken it from the Aurors who tried to lock it away.

"The bones belonged to the Mudblood formerly in charge of the Auror Property Department." The Dark Lord waited for the admiring laughter to subside. "They are now Portkeys. Touch both ends."

Bellatrix waited for everyone else to leave before asking, "Are the Dementors joining us, My Lord?"

"Why? Anxious at the thought of losing your pet?"

He was mocking her as she deserved. She prostrated herself at his feet. "I am wretched and vile and beg forgiveness!"

"Provocative words. I wish to see this wretched vileness." She gazed into his eyes glowing red eyes, completely in his power until he glanced away. "You overstepped your place in those visions. Still, I'd hardly say they were vile." His blade-thin mouth hitched up at one corner. "The juxtaposition of emotional torture with physical pleasure was most . . . promising." He gestured to Dolph. "Keep your Dementor. He will restrain your emotionalism and perhaps inspire something I will find of use." He Disapparated, his skill at Long-Distance Apparation rendering a Portkey doubly unnecessary: Lord Voldemort could fly.

Bellatrix bent to kiss the ground where her Lord had stood. He'd implied—surely, he'd implied—that one day he might re-enact a vision with her! She'd shout with joy if Dolph wasn't already chomping on her every emotion like a Great White Shark. "Hold onto my arm and don't let go," she told him. "You're coming with me."

.

Epilogue

.

Nine months before the birth of Delphini Riddle . . . .

Rodolphus sat gagged and bound to the gilded Louis XIV chair next to the Louis XIV bed placed to enjoy a view of the rising sun. The Dark Lord sleeping in the former bed of a Sun King: Lucius and Narcissa's bed when their master wasn't in residence. Bellatrix could hardly believe this glorious night had finally arrived.

An angry noise drew her gaze to her husband. She said, "You're the one who didn't hide his filthy thoughts. You should've stuck to imagining me with your brother."

Rodolphus shook his head. His expression accused.

"You believe I came up with this scenario all on my own?" She bent to look him in the eye. "I'm a Legilimens as well as an Occlumens. I saw your fantasies and so did He." She couldn't say his name. That was part of the arrangement. As the Muggle god Zeus had taken on a different guise to seduce a mortal woman without demeaning himself, so would a wizard god.

Bellatrix's tone hardened at Rodolphus's muffled curses. "Do you think this is the way I wanted it to be? He decreed and I obey." She kissed Rodolphus's mouth through the gag. "And it will be my pleasure."

The door opened and closed.

Come.

Bellatrix approached the Dementor gliding toward her in his tattered cloak. She smiled up at him as he loomed over her. "Push back your hood." He obeyed, revealing the scars down his cheek, the scars she'd given him. Her Lord was the master of Appearance Charms. She untied her black velvet dressing gown and reached for his hands, lifting them to her breasts.

Rodolphus whimpered behind them when she said, "Give me what I need."

.

.

A/N: There's a scene in the film The Shawshank Redemption where the two main characters have a veiled discussion about prison rape. Andy, a new inmate, asks, "Would it help if I explained to them I'm not homosexual? Red (played by Morgan Freeman) replies, "Neither are they. You have to be human first. They don't qualify." Which brings me to Voldemort bumping uglies with Bellatrix to conceive Delphini in The Cursed Child. Voldemort—splintered soul, plans to be the only immortal, contempt for love and friendship—wasn't human enough to have sex.

But then I started thinking maybe Voldemort got the deed done pretending to be inhuman. Bellatrix, obsessively, passionately, and crazy in love would take her Lord any way she could get him. The thought of how she must have fantasized about her master over the years, and how Dementors helped break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban helped conceive and spawn this (hopefully entertaining) abomination of a story.

I used the fable of The Wind and the Sun, Harry's experiences with Dementors in the books, and "My Lord, my Lord", "Always", "last and best lieutenant" along with Nagini's death by the Sword of Gryffindor from Deathly Hallows. I upped the rating from my usual T because of the dark themes. If readers enjoy the dark humour or all the implied messed up twisted kinky stuff, I'd appreciate hearing about it in a review. ;)