This is a collaborative fic with Lella7 for the His Most Faithful Forums! I had lots of fun writing it and Lella was a delight to work with.

The sounds of battle and cries of pain engulfed his ears as he stood partially away from the carnage as if he was completely immune from the suffering. He was motionless except for the bloodied eyes that flicked over the scene and his robes which blew lightly in the summer breeze.

Voldemort was not often impressed when his plans did not progress perfectly. However, he was feeling more partial and forgiving since the goal had been completed; the mudblood Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was finally eliminated.

It was after that the course altered. Her filthy corpse had not even grown cold before a sizeable number of Aurors had descended on the scene.

He was not bothered. Content to merely observe unless required, he had barely even entered the fray. After all, it was a useful time to observe and to test his Death Eaters.

As he twirled his wand between his unusually long fingers, he watched as one of the Aurors was blasted into a brick wall by one of his followers.

Bellatrix advanced towards two of the Aurors, who were staggering backwards in their efforts to repel her constant stream of curses. Her lips twisted into a gleeful smile as one fell with an agonised cry and the other's look of righteous determination turned to fear. She revelled in the sense of power she felt over her adversaries. They might be some of the brightest wizards and witches around and yet they were no match for the immense power she had developed under the Dark Lord's tutelage.

As she brought down the second Auror with a well-placed hex, her eyes sought her master, hoping he had seen and that he would be proud of her. But as she caught sight of him across the room, her stomach twisted a little in disappointment to see that his eyes were fixed on a duelling pair across the room.

A jet of red light flew towards her from her left and Bellatrix ducked instinctively before sending its caster crashing across one of the unconscious Aurors she had dealt with earlier.

From the corner of her eye she noticed two more figures creeping up to join the fray. She smirked at the realisation that they were edging towards where the Dark Lord stood. He would obliterate the worthless fools.

And yet he did not seem to have noticed them.

Feeling a creeping sense of unease, Bellatrix began to weave her way through the destruction which surrounded her, towards her master.

"My lord..." she called, but he could not hear her over the shouts and cries of pain.

As one of the approaching Aurors raised his wand, Bellatrix broke into a run. The Dark Lord still hadn't turned and so, without a second's hesitation, she did the only thing she could do. She leapt.

Voldemort was not normally lax, but, engulfed in the cries of pain and observations of the triumph of his followers, he was distracted. So sure of his own superiority, he had not expected that even the faintest slither of threat would be directed at him. He had assumed no one would dare and, if they did, he would sense danger at only a second's notice.

Clearly he had been wrong. Chuckling darkly as Dolohov tortured an Auror several feet away, he knew it had all descended into a game. There was some fighting, but it was all inconsequential.

Again, he had been wrong.

With his ears filled with the screams of Dolohov's victim he did not hear Bella's warning. After teaching her the Dark Arts, he was well aware of her skills and abilities, so he had not bothered watching her, knowing the results she would produce. It was redundant when he had tested her time and time again. She was a work of art thanks to his tutelage.

It was only at the last pinnacle second that he noticed anything amiss. From the corner of his eye, he saw a mass of black hair and robes flying towards him. However, he only had the chance to raise his wand arm a fraction of an inch before Bellatrix ran into his shoulder at full speed.

Snarling, a retort with a curse was on his lips, she was only saved from his vengeance when the spell from the Aurors finally attracted his notice; the bright light of the curse was finally upon them. Staggering back, even with his skill he did not have the opportunity to respond and the curse merely slammed into his shield; Bella. Blood splattered his arms and his robes as she collapsed against him.

Rage engulfed him as his bloodied eyes gleamed scarlet as he found the source of the curse. Either from the attempted attack on him, his own feelings of failure for not being vigilant enough or because of the damage to his most useful weapon, his body tensed as the anger escaped with two well placed Killing Curses. The Aurors did not even have the chance to blink before they were dead on the ground.

For a moment, he smirked in satisfaction for a moment, before he flicked his eyes back down to Bellatrix. She was still slumped against him and instinctively he shook her off. "Bella," he scolded in irritation, assuming her need for closeness had gone too far, but the only thing it achieved was causing her body to slide further down his robes. Seizing her jaw, he wrenched her face towards his, yet he was only greeted with shut eyes. "Bella...

Trailing off, he swept his eyes over her body and the situation; blood was still flowing from her with more volume than could be considered healthy. It was damage that should have been suffered by him, yet she was as the victim. It was strange and peculiar; why had she sacrificed herself? Who would ever be so foolish to jump in front of a deadly curse meant for someone else?

Bella was not normally a fool.

Lifting his gaze from his most loyal, he analysed the rest of the Death Eaters; they were all occupied. The prospect was unappealing, but it was not as much as allowing his most prized follower to die. Besides he supposed she deserved some kind of reward for saving him.

Reluctantly, he scooped her up into his arms and, before anyone could notice, he apparated to his home. Marching up the stairs with blood still leaking from her wounds, he headed for his room to heal her.

Bellatrix groggily allowed her eyelids to flutter open, but was jolted awake instantly at a glimpse of her surroundings, not because they were unfamiliar, but because she recognised them instantly.

She was in her master's bedroom; a place she thought of far too much, but was permitted to visit far too rarely. Just the sight of the place was enough to send thrills through her and she could not help but smile, before her mind had the time to process the situation.

The Dark Lord did not usually allow her to sleep in his chambers, and in any case she was lying alone in the centre of the bed. Her confusion heightened when she realised she was laid on top of the covers and was still dressed in the robes she had worn for the raid.

The raid. Bellatrix suddenly remembered the threat to the Dark Lord with a shiver of panic and shot up into a sitting position. The action caused stabbing pains down her sides and she slowly reached inside a gaping tear in her robes in search of the source of the pain.

The scars were so faint that they could have been the marks of wounds sustained many years ago, were it not for the pain, which told her they were very recent injuries that had been expertly healed. That meant the curse had hit her instead. Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief that she had reached the Dark Lord in time and that he had not been harmed.

A feeling of glowing surprise then crept up on her as she realised what that meant; her master had saved her. It had been he who had brought her back here and healed her. She felt honoured beyond measure that he would do such a thing for her, his servant. Surely he must have recognised the extent of her unwavering loyalty as she rushed to protect him, must have been proud of her limitless devotion, and this was why he had protected her.

Bellatrix sat, brimming with gratitude, barely even aware of the wounds which still pained her.

Voldemort had been unable to keep the memories of Bellatrix saving him from his mind. It was not because of any semblance of affection, but inspired by curiosity. He could not fathom why someone would sacrifice their life for another. The gash through her side had been substantial and could have been fatal if he had not brought her back to his home so swiftly, or if anyone else had healed her.

He did not understand. That was troubling in itself, though, even as he analysed the situation, he could not produce an answer. She could not have sacrificed herself for a reward when she knew she could have died. There was obviously something he was missing. He loathed the mere thought that his knowledge was lacking, but there was one thing he did know- her loyalty must be absolute.

It was the only thing he could conclude. Every possibility equalled that conclusion. It unnerved him to ever think that something so temperamental as loyalty could be absolute, but he could not deny it seemed to have surpassed all of his expectations.

No one else could ever be as loyal and reliable, so obviously she was the solution to the problem he had been considering for a long time.

By the calculations of the potions he had fed her, he assumed she must be awake so he rose from the downstairs sitting room and ventured up the stairs. His face and body were tenser than usual at the thought of his plan as one of his pale, spider like hands grasped something small in his robe pocket.

Pushing open the door, his eyes flicked over Bellatrix. He was correct; she was awake. She should have been in excruciating pain, but she was sitting up in bed and grinning broadly.

"Bella?" he questioned; his confused opinion of the woman in front of him not ceasing as he approached the bed. "What are you doing? Why are you sitting up like that?"

"My lord, thank you... I was afraid for a moment that I had been too late, that I had not been in time to take the curse but... thank you," she garbled, all with that incomprehensible smile.

His eyebrows knitted together with uncertainty at the answer. Again it was all about saving him. She must have known she had almost died, but she only considered his well being.

Still perplexed, he turned to matters. Having made his decision, he could not back down. Steeling himself and assuring himself that his decision was correct, he slid the object from his robes. About the size of his hand, with two perfectly crafted golden handles, a badger engraved on the surface and with a pulsating and vibrant gold shine, the cup looked almost innocent.

It did not feel that way. In his hands it was unnerving to touch a part of his soul that had been absent for so long. He was not sure how it would feel to her; anything from depressing and dark demons to light and empowering emotions was a possibility.

It did not matter. The cup needed to be hidden securely and this was finally his solution.

"I need you to do something," he said carefully as he approached the bed so he was looking directly down at her.

Without waiting for the inevitable positive answer, he continued, "I need you to take this for me. I need you to hide it in your vault at Gringotts. It is very precious to me. I cannot tell you why, but I can assure you it is a great honour that I am entrusting this to you. I can never doubt your loyalty. My absolute trust in you, is your reward for absolute loyalty."

Without flinching lest he give away his uncertainty, he handed her his horcrux.

Bellatrix took the cup gently into her hands and her heart leapt into her throat as, instantly, a thrum of power radiated from the golden surface into her very veins. She had, of course, handled powerful, dark magic infused objects before, but this was beyond anything recognisable to her. The metal was cold and yet there was something, so strong it almost seemed to be buzzing, within it. She could not tell whether it was the magic of the cup itself, or the words which the Dark Lord had spoken, which sent shivers of sheer exhilaration down her spine.

She folded her hands, cautiously but protectively, around the tiny object, as if afraid it would suddenly disappear, and tore her eyes from it to look up at her master, wondering how she could possibly express this level of gratitude.

"Thank you, master. I will do anything to guard this. I will not let you down, master." Her voice cracked over the words which just did not seem enough.

The Dark Lord's eyes, which had been fixed on the cup, flicked upwards to meet his servant's. Bellatrix gazed up at him, reverently, and, seeming satisfied, he nodded coolly before sweeping from the room.

I can never doubt your loyalty. My absolute trust in you is your reward for absolute loyalty.

Bellatrix smiled at the honour he had given her. She was drawn to the cup in a way she had never experienced before – not with an object, anyway – and it was clearly something more powerful than she could comprehend, so powerful that she had had to prove herself beyond doubt to receive it.

I can never doubt your loyalty.

Her master's words repeated themselves over and over in her head as she vowed to guard the mysterious cup before her with everything she had.