Authors Note: Hello everyone. I'm sorry I've been absent for so long. There's been so much that's happened and not enough time to go through it all. That'd be a story all in itself. I hope you are still interested in the story and enjoy this new chapter. Feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think of the latest instalment - Bee.

Christina had given him exactly what he had wanted and Voldemort felt that he had re-discovered some semblance of his old self within their copulation. She had cried and her tears had brought him immense satisfaction. It was clear to him that she cried for the duty that she was performing, that she cried for the days when once they had loved one another and cried perhaps even for the War that he had brought upon the world. She did not understand why it had to be done, she did not understand his desires as fully as she had once. There was much that she did not understand but he would re-educate her. At the end of the day, she would be a formidable weapon to have at his side where she had always belonged.

Still, he could not bring himself to regret what had happened that day by the lake.

His Death Eaters were standing guard and even Bellatrix had fallen into step with the others. She was astute enough even in her fits of madness to understand that her place had shifted, and that she was to be grateful that she was still prized above the other followers, despite the failures of her family by marriage.

Voldemort stood, swathed in his black cloak, his gaze fixed firmly on Christina who wore a black dress that would have suited a funeral procession. How fitting for a crypt Voldemort thought to himself as he watched her bend at the knees, a single white rose in her hand. He watched on in silence as she placed the rose at the foot of the plaque bearing Abraxsus Malfoy's name. He had been buried here in this marble tomb with an empty plaque beside him. It was clear whose name belonged on that plaque.

"Oh Abraxsus. It has been so long my brother, my friend." Christina's words were softly spoken and carried the unspoken sorrows of decades. She had always been close to her brother and Abraxsus had been a man who had longed in his dying days to see his sister once more. You could almost have taken them for twins, except for the slight difference in age. Voldemort remembered that you could not have found a closer brother and sister than they. He took a single step forward as she spoke, moving out of the doorway and into the crypt.

"I have missed you so." Christina's voice was barely above a whisper now and Voldemort strained to hear her. She dipped even further till she was sitting on the floor, the skirt of her dress arranged so as to hide her legs better. Her image was striking as she looked up at the plaque and Voldemort felt compelled to draw closer. He side-stepped, moving till he could see her face and the tears that slid down her cheeks. Her eyes were pools of water and even in her sadness she appeared beautiful. He wanted to take her into his arms there and at the same time he wanted to strike her and crush her till that veneer of beauty began to crack and the real ugliness of age appeared. He cursed her as much as he cared for her.

"He wished to see you one last time." The words came out and Voldemort was almost surprised by the sound of his own voice. She was doing things to him, even there on the floor of the crypt, weeping for her dead brother. She could make his thoughts and feelings turn to pity and that was unacceptable. He thought to kill her there and then, to remove his wand so familiar to his hand and utter those reverent words and end her there as he should have done all those years ago.

Christina turned her head to look directly at him, those eyes staring into what little tatters remained of his soul.

"Did he miss me?" Her question was uttered in a voice that wavered with emotion and Voldemort nodded his head. It was a fact, nothing resembling sentiment there.

"Mother and father?" The next question was spoken with more strength and determination to the voice, an undercurrent of steel there. That was the Christina that he knew, as strong as an Amazon and as vengeful as a Valkyrie.

He was silent and within that silence she understood, had all that she needed to know. Malfoy's senior had cared little that their daughter was gone. After all, it was Abraxsus who was the heir. Christina had not even retained the Malfoy name.

Christina sighed and reached upwards, moving to rest on her knees, her fingers gently stroking the plaque and loosely tracing the letters of Abraxsus' name chiselled into the plaque. As she traced, the ghost of a saddened smile crossed her face, only temporarily raising the corners of her lips before it disappeared. She bowed her head for a moment, her shoulders shaking a little as she tried to contain her sobs. Voldemort wanted to hear her cry, he wanted to hear those anguished screams as the thoughts crowded her mind of all that she had missed, all that could have been. He wanted to see her suffering even more than she suffered now and if she would not provide… well, he would ensure that it came to pass. She deserved to suffer for all that had happened, for all that she had become, had remained, and for her defiance in daring to continue to live beyond him, apart from him.

Voldemort lunged forward like a cobra, his hand grabbing hold of her wrist, fingers curling around the soft, fleshy cuff and pulling, hard. Christina cried out in a combination of surprise and pain and Voldemort yanked her upwards, forcing her to her feet. She stood there and he pulled her closer to him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. His tongue darted out and slowly licked at the salty tears that had frozen on her cheeks. He felt her shudder against him and he felt satisfaction surge up within him.

"I have given you what you wanted Chrissy and now it is time you fulfil your end of the bargain." Voldemort hissed and Christina gasped, attempting to push herself away from him. Voldemort's hand rose to grip her throat and he squeezed. She tried to cough and he squeezed harder.

"I-di-du-da-did." Her words were choked out and he pulled his head back a fraction to take in the desirable picture of her eyes widened and that trace of fear shot through them. He wanted her fear, and her respect. Her love was of little consequence.

"For all that I have done for you, for all that you have paid back to me, once is not enough." He hissed and as he hissed, he slowly tightened the grip on her throat. Her hands flew up to touch his own, her nails raking against his skin and she tried to loosen his grip. Voldemort removed his wand and gestured towards the door, the both of them still in that moment and listening as it creaked closed. They were fully alone, encased in the crypt and as they stared deep into each other's eyes, there was the dawning of understanding in her face. She knew what was coming next and despair soon followed. Voldemort laughed, a harsh laugh, and threw her forcefully to the ground. He removed his cloak with one hand and it dropped to the ground in a pool at his feet. Christina was on her side; her arms having taken the brunt of her fall. Her has fallen across her face and Voldemort knelt beside her, his hands reaching to brush the hair from her face.

"Tom." She croaked. "Please, not here. Don't do this here." Voldemort slapped her across the face, the force of the blow knocking her back. His eyes were bright, shining with anticipation and excitement at the thought of what he was about to do. It had been long, far too long, and she needed to know her place once again.

"Come Chrissy, let me love you." His hands reached under her skirt, his fingers crawling across her flesh, from her knee upwards and upwards until-

She cried out and tried to shove him away but it was no use, he would not move and he leaned down, mouth against her neck and bit down, hard.

Christina shrieked and sobbed within the silence of the crypt, her cries echoing off the walls and Voldemort smiled.