Title: Secular Matrimony
Author: Narcissmy
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Bellatrix/Rodolphus
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Potterverse unfortunately is all J.K's
Summary: No-one said matrimony had to be holy. A piece of writing which delves into the married life of two sisters. Two very different marriages. And yet, one thing is very clear - none of them are as holy or sanctimonious as the perfect marriage should be.

The chamber in which the witch and the wizard stood was dark. Not just approaching evening dark, as it should have been, but close to pitch black, thanks to the lack of windows. The two were almost as dark as the blackness enveloping them, yet the man's eyes were an almost emerald colour, a brilliant green against the small amount of natural light inside the room. Surprisingly, when the torches in their brackets on the wall flared into life, neither of the pair blinked, though both sub-consciously studied the other for their reaction. It would not do to be made fun of by the person who delighted in goading you the most out of all your colleagues, so they both maintained their façade, even though inside, both were quaking with the awe they felt for the person now standing in the middle of the room.

The man's face had hollowed over the years, yet it was still remarkably…handsome. Aristocratically handsome, the only hints of ageing slight wrinkling around the eyes, and wisps of silver then and there in his otherwise thick crown of dark hair. It would not matter if he had eyes slit like those of the snake he adored, likening him to a serpent himself, because the respect that Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange held for the man they were sharing a private audience with was breathtaking. Never had the two been as silent in each other's company.

"Congratulations on your nuptials. I hear they were quite the talk of the pureblood community." The only response from the male and the female in the room was to bow low to the floor at Lord Voldemort's feet. The two were very demure in his company, though the female smiled a little, lips that were full curving into a smile as sharp as a knife edge - almost as sharp as the cutting comments she issued to those beneath her with her caustic tongue. Of course, the man formally known as Tom Marvolo Riddle's comment was meant to aggravate them. Bellatrix and Rodolphus's hatred for one and other was notorious amongst their fellow Death Eaters. It was public knowledge that they had only been married due to pureblood necessity, and tradition, naturally. Perhaps the fact that they were sure to produce excellent looking grandchildren for the Black and Lestrange families had also factored into it. Nice, strong males.

Bellatrix was every inch the siren, even now, slightly more demure in her Lord's presence. She wore beneath her robes a tight fitting red dress that clung to her every curve. Her lips and long, effeminate nails were painted the same disturbing blood red. Her husband looked like a rich, foreign business entrepreneur, posture suggesting dark power. Both of them, together, looked like bloody, macabre perfection. Perfect in appearance, maybe, but not sound of mind. They were of course, a bittersweet symphony, a delicious contrast of rough and smooth, raucous and more implacable, and placid. When something really annoyed Rodolphus, he was more likely to become more introverted, to seethe inwardly, or make his feeling known to Bellatrix by rough physical love, or was it lust? That seemed to be the only physical intimacy they shared, and even after it, they moved apart quickly so has to avoid contamination, or so it seemed. Both had spent so long fighting for their independence, that falling into a co-dependent trap was not on the cards. Bellatrix, however, had absolutely no qualms in venting her emotions by throwing priceless heirlooms at the Lestrange Manor, or attempting to arouse him in embarrassingly public places. It annoyed him that his annoyance with her, and general anger aroused him so quickly, and yet his annoyance repeatedly got pushed to the back of his mind. For who could really resist the beauty that was Bellatrix Black?

Not a lot of people, was the answer. The recently married couple rose in unison after kissing the ring of their leader. Still, the room was silent, yet Rodolphus' ears were pricked for the sound of a great snake's underbelly sliding amongst the remains of rats and humans that littered the floor. The place in which they received orders screamed squalor and stank of blood, yet the two people who stood before the man they would give their lives for relished in this factor, though Rodolphus was politely disgusted by the snake. Lord Voldemort knew that he did not hold a fondness for the serpent, and even as he stood there, Rodolphus could feel the green, scaly body winding it's way up his body. Lord Voldemort was hissing in parsel tongue, causing the snake to settle quite comfortably on Lestrange's shoulders, it's forked tongue hissing out to lick at his pulse point.

"Nagini thinks that you're scared Rodolphus. Are you?"

Bellatrix smiled amusedly, thinking that seeing her husband get bated by Lord Voldemort was extremely amusing. To say that he was scared of a snake would be idiotic, for he was a Death Eater. He bore the mark of the devil reincarnated on his left-forearm. A snake was child's play. Yet Bellatrix knew that Rodolphus knew Lord Voldemort had the power to tell the snake to crush the male's windpipe until he could no longer breathe. And that thought was scary.

"No, my Lord. I am not afraid." Lestrange's shoulders were broad, and although the snake looked relatively comfortable, and even unimposing across his width, she was hissing softly, obviously discomforted by the fact that she was not entwined with her master. Bellatrix was sharing the same feelings right now. She'd goad Lestrange about being afraid of a snake when they'd get home - and the sexual tension breaking in their annoyance brought her some contentment. But she would always love Lord Voldemort. How could she not, when he had plucked her and honed her, nurtured her as if she were a seedling. He had made her what she was today. And he was devastatingly handsome, in an aristocratic sort of way, with a devious charm that made her blood sing. And the laugh that she worshipped rang on out now, mirthless in the cold, dungeon like enclosure, hissing softly. Nagini hissed again too - almost as if she were laughing with him. Sometimes, Bellatrix thought he laughed like the serpent because he spent too much time with it.

"Nagini says you lie. Your pulse point is beating relatively fast for a man who is not afraid."

"With all due respect, my Lord, your snake is at your command, and I have no doubt that if you wanted her to, she could kill me."

"Correct Lestrange, though might I inform you that Nagini could kill you without my command. She fears the repercussions less than you Death Eaters. It hurts your ego, doesn't it, the fact that Nagini is a woman? A woman could kill you Lestrange."

Lestrange flushed considerably, and Bellatrix actually cackled. When Lord Voldemort shot her a look that suggested he was not impressed by her laughter, she silenced, knowing she was going to get her comeuppance for her outburst.

"I do not think you are in a position to laugh, Bellatrix. At least he does not become aroused by her, as you do."

Bellatrix was fighting the flush creeping vine-like up her face. That had been deliberately designed to shame her, because she had laughed at someone else's misfortune - someone else who the Dark Lord obviously thought was coping with the little situation he had arranged quite well - after all, he had not collapsed sobbing, urging Lord Voldemort to get the snake from around his neck. In fact, his form was not even tense, from what Bellatrix could see. It was true, what her Lord had said, but only to a certain extent. The way in which Nagini moved, the smooth and agile way, so delightfully supple, made Bellatrix aroused - but it was not the snake in herself. Rodolphus broke out into self-satisfied smile; Bellatrix worked very hard to keep her composure and stop herself punching him in his tanned face. She would have done it, but Bellatrix preferred wand violence, instead of resorting to her fists like some common muggle whore.

Lord Voldemort hissed softly at the snake who slithered in an almost relieved manner from Rodolphus' frame and up onto her masters', body wrapped around his middle, head surveying the two with red eyes over the shoulder of her Lord. Bellatrix fought the slightly jealous feeling that seeing the snake so close to her Lord incurred - but it was hard. Receiving their missions, they bade their master goodbye and made for the corridor outside of the chamber they usually received lessons within, be it in magical skill, or lessons in punishment. Rodolphus let out a soft laugh and Bellatrix threw him a look so horrid that she thought it may burn a hole through the wall. She knew exactly what he was snickering at - and she was perfectly aware that the more he goaded her, the more satisfied he became. That was fine - Bellatrix had her ways of denying him things that he really wanted. After all, it was her body that he had to have every night. Bellatrix had never openly said that she would not appreciate him cheating on her, but just by general Bellatrix attitude, Rodolphus knew that if he ever dared sully himself with some prostitute when she refused him (Which wasn't that often, actually), then she would never sleep with him again. Not even if the person in question was a pureblood prostitute.

"A little snake, a sexy little snake."

Bellatrix rounded on him in an instant, wand tip pressed to his pulse point threateningly. What annoyed her further was the fact he was still smiling down at her, archaically handsome face almost…reverent in the light spilling onto the walls from the flames in their wall brackets.

"One more time, Lestrange. At least I'm not scared of the thing."

Rodolphus tensed visibly, and Bellatrix laid her hand on his chest, nails softly clawing at the flesh there.

"Dolphy is afwaid of the big bad Nagini?"

"The thing is dangerous, Bellatrix.""So am I…you're not scared of me, are you Dolph?"

She laughed then, a high, manic cackle that resonated on every available surface. Somewhere in the distance, Rodolphus was quite sure that he heard the rumble of his Lord's laughter, and he shoved Bellatrix away from him roughly, watching her facial expression change from smarmy to annoyed, and then to confused again. She did not attempt to follow him or call after him to ask him for reasons for his brutal and abrupt treatment of her - mainly because something like this, this scene, was not that uncommon in their marriage. It was not love; it was lust, and anger. What they were angry at was a mystery to both of them, though it could be the fact they were never left to find their own marriage partners, but forced together when passion and tension between them was extremely high and visible. When Rodolphus had got to the end of the corridor, and departed through the secret passageway, she streaked back up the corridor like lightening, quietly knocking on her Lord's door and entering the chamber.

Lord Voldemort looked up briefly as she entered, and arched an eyebrow against her, spread languidly against the door. He straightened up and stood in the centre of the room, surveying her as she walked around the room, admiring certain bones sewn into the ceilings like macabre beams. Lord Voldemort had never had a lot of female companions - especially any that measured up to Bellatrix Black. She was quick, smart and attractive, and seemed to have her head screwed on the right way - what more could you ask for in a woman? She was also extremely willing to please him - in all manner of the words. When he lay with Bellatrix, he was not loving her, he was servicing himself. He was not, in any manner, surrendering to lust, because he could look at her quite calmly in a Death Eater meeting, right into those lovely, dark eyes of hers and not feel a thing - not remember their last glorious coupling, or become aroused by the memory if he did. She always seemed to want more, and it would take far too much energy to show and tell her that she wasn't going to get it. At least not from him. She turned around to face him and arched an eyebrow, sashaying over to him to place a hand on his chest. Lord Voldemort looked down at it warily, wondering if she knew any other female in the majority of the United Kingdom would now be missing a limb if they'd done that.

"My Lord." She whispered, eyes searching his face instead of locking onto his strong, seeking gaze, unblinking in the soft lamp of the room.

"You will kindly wait for permission to touch me." Bellatrix dropped her hand as if she had been burned, bowing her head at the rough, strict tone to his voice. Lord Voldemort made no further attempt to touch her, but waved his hand to produce a door but several feet away from them. He walked through it, not looking back, but leaving the fine walnut oak panels quite open. Bellatrix regarded the door, and smiled. She was still smiling when the soft thud of her cloak hit the floor as she discarded it. He never did undress her, so she simply did it herself.

***

Narcissa was not interested in the scene around her. As a newly married woman, and a beautiful one at that, she had come to enjoy and expect the presence of her husband to the side of her at the dinner party. Tonight, she had been told he was on official business; in other words, out risking his life for his Lord. This worried Narcissa. At three months pregnant with Lucius' first child, and at just nineteen years of age, Narcissa was in no position to gloat if she lost Lucius. Of course, inheritance wise, she would be very well off - life insurance on the Malfoy heir would just add to the millions already shimmering in the Gringott's account. But it would not console her if she lost her husband, for, unwillingly, she had become quite attached. When she had married him, she had been afraid that she was stuck with a cold and impassive partner, completely made of ice - like the façade she put on for the public, pureblood eye. He was like that; she'd just never anticipated liking it so much.

She was worried tonight. Something was brewing, she could feel it in her waters. The resilience to the Death Eaters and His cause was growing stronger. Something had shaken up the Dark Lord, for he was calling Lucius to him at all hours of the night, away from his lovely young wife, and to his side. Narcissa knew it was wrong, but quite frankly she didn't care, so she had eavesdropped quite sufficiently on some conversations. There was something about a prophecy…about a baby. She knew that it obviously was irking the Dark Lord, because Lucius' mark glowed a ferocious black almost constantly. She loved that mark. Lord Voldemort stood for all that was right in the wizarding world - all that she had ever professed to want from someone who could take control of the infiltration of the wizarding world by worthless muggle borns and half-breeds. Yet somehow, nothing seemed whole anymore. Wherever she turned, and whichever family member she looked at - each and every one of them were affected by this goddamned war one way or another.

Her sister, Bellatrix, had become so devoted to the cause that she had barely seen her for the last couple of months. Her and her husband were completely insane, Narcissa was sure, and if she didn't love Bellatrix so much, she'd probably have removed herself from her by now. But giving up Bellatrix, the one most people perceived to be insane, would be like giving up her own sanity, as bizarre as that may sound. After Andromeda became a filthy blood traitor, and ran away with that sorry excuse of a wizard, if Narcissa ever did see one, Bellatrix became her salvation. Lucius was slightly worried about his wife's relationship with her sister, she knew that - but she would never give up her sister, no matter how fond she grew of her husband and the creature comforts he provided her with. Bellatrix had been there long before Lucius had, and she knew Bellatrix a lot better. It may not have been her child she was carrying, but essentially, it had always been Bellatrix who taught Narcissa how to be, well….Narcissa. Andromeda had once been a great friend of Narcissa, and though she'd rather chop her own head off than admit it, she did still miss her; dearly. Just like she missed Sirius Black. Both small holes that became swollen and distorted until eventually, they swallowed her.

She realised that she had zoned out, and that her mother, Druella was smiling at her forcibly in a manner that suggested if her youngest daughter didn't snap out of her reverie, she was going to slap her backside, as she had done when she was a child. Such a terrifically muggle way to discipline, Narcissa thought.

"Yes, three months along now…" Druella trailed off, perhaps waiting for Narcissa to pick up the conversation. As was expected of her, she parted her lips to answer the aging relative that was inquiring as to how she was.

"I'm fine. My blood pressure's a little high, but the healer's said that it could be because my body is still in it's early stages, and finding it hard to adapt to the changes. If you'll excuse me Mrs. Burke, mother, I'm feeling a little dizzy. I'll be retiring for the night."

Narcissa bowed her blonde head of hair, and made her way out of the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. As a pregnant hostess now, she was not expected to cater to everyone - rather, that was left to her mother, the annoying but somewhat sufficient Druella Black.

Her room was elegantly furnished, yet tonight Narcissa did not allow herself time to appreciate the well hung drapes, nor the elegant suave of the silk bedspread. She pulled the pins out of her hair almost viciously, and the smooth silk wave that fell down her back was very much in contrast with her angry movements. Suddenly, the corset that was not too restricting on her still reasonably slight frame was still too tight. Unbearably tight. The dress pooled at her feet in a decadent heap of silk, and her house elf scurried out from the cupboard to fold it up and put it away. The corset discarded, she stood looking at herself in the mirror, studying her form. She was undeniably stunning. Her hair framed a face that was ethereally beautiful, and spoke of innocence - chastity. Sometimes infinitely more appealing than a strumpet's expression and a harlot's clothes. Her body, even more so now she was pregnant, completely contrasted with her innocent appearance. Full breasts, creamy skin, almost flat stomach and the jut of her hips, long legs and a general eloquence to her that most people lacked almost naked. Her underwear, matching her dress, was a lovely shade of scarlet, all peekaboo lace and clever stitching. A gift for her, on her wedding night. A gift that had been opened with shaking hands and that had caused much blushing.

As she sat thinking about her wedding night, and getting ready to slip into her nightdress, there was a loud crack from behind her, causing her to squeal and attempt to cover herself, before she realised that her husband stood before her. His nose was bleeding heavily, and his white shirt was significantly stained. Narcissa stood there in slight shock, before pushing him into a chair and transfiguring her nearby vanity items into a pail of water and a small piece of cloth. She made no sound as she mopped gently at his pale face, her actions completely belying the fact that right now, she felt the need to punch something - or more specifically; someone. Lucius was looking at her with an odd expression between an apology and tenderness, a steady rush of almost-love for his wife who was cleaning him up so beautifully whilst carrying his unborn heir. He reached up a hand to stroke a pale strand of hair that clung to her face and breasts behind her shoulder, and she gave out an odd sound somewhere between a sob and a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. It was not an irregular occurrence for him to come home slightly battered and bruised, but in her present physical and mental predicament, she was in no way equipped to deal with it. Setting the cloth away from his nose, he hauled her up to a standing position, before putting his fingers beneath her chin and drawing her rosebud mouth up for a kiss.

Narcissa let him kiss for a while, toying with her lips and tongue with his own, stroking the somewhat prominent cheekbones and the other delicate features of her face, wiping her tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"What happens next time, Lucius? A broken bone, a missing limb, an owl to tell me you're dead? Will I even get that?"

Her voice was thick, constricted by conflicting emotions that confused her. In that moment, Lucius truly believed that he loved his wife, this exquisite being who stood before him with a lot more knowledge than he had originally anticipated. She was not stupid, as he had presupposed before marrying her, and she was far from being cold. Her hands had flitted to his chest, where she busied herself unbuttoning his bloody shirt, un-tucking it from his trousers and watching as it fluttered to the floor. She rested her blonde head against his firm chest and her lips against his shoulder. Lucius found that it was best not to say anything in situations or moments like these. She tended to get slightly irate if he told her that his work would benefit them - and that his Lord was an honourable man. Lucius had learned from early on in her pregnancy, that she was not to be interrupted when she was in a mood like this one.

"I'm scared, Lucius. I'm scared that I'll be left with an unborn child and no husband."

In response to her question, Lucius loosened his belt buckle and stepped out of his trousers, lifting her up much as he had carried her over the threshold and laying her down on the bed, eventually coming to rest beside of her, his hand on the lower, slight curve of her abdomen. He pulled her to him, head tucked beneath his chin beneath the fine silk coverlet, his arms wrapped protectively around her slight frame. She seemed to compose herself and find her icy attack when she claimed his lips for her own, gently nipping at them until her husband let out a slight, throaty moan. A moan she gloried in, and sucked in by attacking his lips with her own plump ones. Eventually, she leaned up to straddle him, hands going behind her back to unfasten her bra strap, then taking care to smooth her golden hair over her ample bosom. As he kissed her stomach and prepared to enter her, fingers like butterflies on her tender breasts, she tried not to think about tomorrow, or the day after that, or the year after that, because all that really mattered was that she was here, she was Lady Malfoy, and she was pregnant with what the hospital predicted to be a male heir.

***

Rodolphus sat in the dim light of the solitary candle placed in the study, settled into an armchair that had been purchased for himself and his wife to come to live in Lestrange Manor. His mother and father had graciously retired to one of the family homes in the Cotswolds, to make sure that Bellatrix and Rodolphus had the ultimate amount of privacy - a damned sight more than Narcissa seemed to have received when she married into the Malfoy family. Should Jacquel and Alhena Lestrange have stayed to experience the bizarre qualities to their eldest son's relationship, it would have been quite possible they may have become extremely disturbed, even more so than they were already. Their relationship was not the most predictable, and Rodolphus was largely at Bellatrix's command, for a lot of the time. If she had decided that he was to take her on the dinner table, he was not entirely sure he could have said no.

Bellatrix had yet to return from her prolonged meeting with the Dark Lord. Rodolphus was not stupid - he knew that she went to him for reasons other than her loyalty. Or perhaps her love for him was merely another aspect of her loyalty - another take on the situation. Rodolphus, when he had agreed unto the pureblood partnership, had agreed to share his home, his money, and his allegiance - he had not anticipated having to share his wife. And yet, what could he really do? He couldn't deny his Lord his wife - and that irked him, no end.

The automatic locking system opening within the front door of Lestrange Manor, modified now that two Death Eaters resided there, resounded through the halls and rebounded off of the walls of the study, were Rodolphus was just finishing off his second glass of finest malt fire whiskey. The liquid left a satisfying yet aggravating burn in the back of his throat, a burning reminder that his wife went to another man. And worse still, willingly enjoyed it. The sounds of her stiletto clad footsteps echoed around the spacious rooms as she searched for her husband. Probably to gloat about the fact she could give their Lord something that he never could - well, unless it was under duress. When she reached the study door, she leaned her dark head of hair against it and watching him through heavy lidded eyes as he poured another whiskey.

"Never took you for a drinker, Lestrange." She was joking, of course. Throughout their courtship Bellatrix had seen him drink - and get drunk - on a number of different occasions. He didn't answer, instead choosing to quirk an eyebrow and resume his place in his armchair, looking somewhat like a perturbed head of a business empire, an arm designated to each arm of the chair. Never one to be shy of breaking a silence, Bellatrix continued on.

"Would you like to explain why you left me on my own in the chamber?" She stopped, a cruel smile curling her plump lips. "Was it something I said?"

Rodolphus silently turned to face her, breathing calm and thoughts and feelings collected. The more she attempted to goad him tonight, the angrier he would get. What he needed to remember, was the fact it was not her fault; not essentially. True, she probably enjoyed going to him for something other than her latest assignment, but just like he felt indebted to give Him the pleasure of his wife, she undoubtedly felt indebted to allow Him the pleasures of her body. It didn't make sense to deny the Dark Lord. Nobody denied the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix was not feeling guilty, as such. She liked going to her Lord - because she admired him greatly, and because a man of such sheer power touching her was like heaven on Earth. The fact that she also made him succumb to her, in a round about sort of way, also provided that extra sense of happiness - provoked that self satisfied smirk to crawl across her face when he was sated. However, as she watched Rodolphus sit there in the chair, obviously battling with inner demons, she felt a pang of a dilute form of guilt tug at her heartstrings, a feeling that she was quick to rebuff before it amounted to something more meaningful. She kicked off her shoes in the doorway and dropped her robe about her shoulders, coming to stand in front of her husband. He looked up with a worn expression on his face, but brought his hand up to lay against her small waist, before running it down her side and along her outer thigh. Bellatrix gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it up and over her head, the absence of the scarlet material leaving her clad in her knickers, bra and stockings. She smiled slightly as Rodolphus growled, deep and low in the back of his throat. He curled his hands around the back of her thighs, shifting her forward and pressing a kiss to her lean stomach, sliding a leg either side of his body on the spacious armchair.

"Dolphy's jealous."

Rodolphus wound his hand up her back, flicked open the clasp to her bra and continued his journey upwards to yank at the thick of her hair…the reaction that Bellatrix had expected and hoped for. She made no move to navigate the bra straps down her arms, rather, he did it for her, almost ripping it away from her body, nipping at the places that were revealed angrily. He was cleansing her of their Lord's touch, or attempting to, but his Lord's hands were like brands on his wife's porcelain skin. His words were bitter when he spoke.

"I trust you enjoyed yourself."

"Would you like me to lie and tell you I hated it?" She said, laughing again and tilting her head back. She gasped as Rodolphus's mouth closed around a nipple, punishing her with cruel bites for her comment,and then soothing her with quick, expert suckles.

"Why do you aggravate me when you know I cannot question it?"

"You can question it, Lestrange, and you do. You just can't do anything about it."

Rodolphus growled angrily, low in his chest, a rumble that reverberated against the sensitive nipple he was holding in his mouth. He released her breast to sit back in the chair, and his gaze flitted down her lean stomach, before pulling away from her body completely.

"Rodolphus, what's wrong?"

"He has branded, you. It sickens me." Rodolphus swallowed to prevent the bile rising in his throat as he viewed the purple ghosts of long, elegant fingertips against her ribcage. Bellatrix shivered at the contempt that he was not attempting to hide, lacing his voice with a menacing disgust.

"I have no choice."

"You went to him, Bellatrix!"

"I went back to him because you left me in a chamber with no explanation as to why. He insinuated that he would like me to join him."

Rodolphus closed his eyes, and Bellatrix slid off his lap.

"He is my Lord, Lestrange. I refuse to lie to you. I enjoyed every minute of it, because I worship him, Rodolphus, in the most literal sense."

She bit her lip and watched as her husband's knuckles turned white, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair ferociously.

"You either want me, or you do not. Stop acting like a spoilt child who has been told he has to share, and deal with the fact that our Lord wants something from me that you cannot give. You know as well as I do that he does not love me, I am merely used for pleasure."

Bellatrix ignored the way her voice broke a little upon her last sentence. Her love for the Dark Lord was not discussed with anyone, and her husband was not an exception to this rule. It was barely admitted to herself.

Rodolphus opened his eyes and was inspecting her carefully, this beautiful woman who was as deadly as a venom laced snake bite. Her dominance was what attracted him to her, yet he had not expected her to be so skilful at using it against him. He put his hand to her leg again and pulled her closer, back onto the chair.

"I do not like sharing, Bellatrix. Promise that he is the only one."

The male did not ask this question because he cared about her, but because he cared about his ego and his reputation. He did not love her - not yet, anyway - and he was sure his feelings were reciprocated. She bit at his neck, making no attempt to soften the harsh vice of her teeth against the tender skin; he was becoming far too commanding.

"For now, yes. I promise."

Rodolphus smirked slightly. The for now bit, as far as he could see, had been added in an attempt to convey to him that he did not own her, and if she wanted to take up with someone else, she could. Her answering smirk was due to the fact his mouth had found her breasts again, and his hands were rubbing at her through the crotch of her knickers, dampening steadily.

He didn't bother asking her to stand to remove her underwear, instead deigning to rip them away from her body, the barely there lace tearing easily underneath his rough handling. Patience was not a virtue, it simply laboured the process to the inevitable. She eyed him with a slight nonchalance, but her eyelids were slightly heavier than they had been before, and they closed slightly when Rodolphus's finger began to stroke her gently; teasing, provocative, and in complete contrast with the animalistic thrust that placed him inside of her. Bellatrix threw her head back and was rewarded with the harsh gnawing of teeth at the hollow of her neck. Mouth and tongue met in a furious display of passion as his pace became more erratic, and the support of her thighs became almost useless.

"Do you call his name, Bellatrix?"

"Idon't make noise unless he tells me to."

Rodolphus hissed as she clenched her insides around him deliberately, but he seemed placated. She did not call his name during sex, either, but at least she didn't call his. When she came, it was with a guttural groan and the spasm of her legs and inner walls around him, coaxing his seed forward.

Rodolphus leant against the back of the chair to find her naked skin fused to his shirt, her hands making light work of removing the material from his well formed torso and reaching for her wand on the table beside them. When he looked up again, they were lying down on the bed and Bellatrix was smirking in a manner that made his inside attempt to journey up his windpipe. His feelings were dispensable, but her pleasure was paramount - once again, she had won.

Bellatrix: 1, Rodolphus: 0.