Bellatrix and her Master

The Wife

"Examine her."

The Healer didn't move immediately. His small, piercing eyes observed Bellatrix coldly as the tension in the room reached its peak. Pale and frightened, Bellatrix seemed uncertain, perched on the giant bed she occupied. A weary sigh was heard, and then Edgar Mirepoix approached her with heavy steps. With a sharp motion, he flung aside the sheet that covered her. As the Healer began to part Bellatrix's thighs, Lord Voldemort turned away. The other three occupants of the room followed his gaze as he moved to look out at the starry sky through the bedroom window.

Bellatrix felt the cold fingers of the Healer enter her intimately. She clenched her teeth, but the suddenness of it was unbearable. She pushed him away with a kick.

"Let him do his work," ordered Lord Voldemort in an icy voice, his eyes still fixed on the window.

Bellatrix lay back fully on the mattress, her eyes closed. She parted her thighs again to allow Mirepoix to inspect her. She'd already thought, last year, that this Healer used his hands as much as his wand for treatment – something that made her deeply uncomfortable. The examination didn't last long. A few seconds passed in total silence. Bellatrix still had her eyes shut, but nothing around her seemed to stir.

"What is it, Mirepoix?"

"I don't understand what you're looking for, my Lord," replied the Healer, his tone attempting assurance despite a slight tremor in his voice.

Bellatrix opened her eyes. Lord Voldemort was now looming over the French Healer, towering above him.

"Is she pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Do I have ovaries?" Bellatrix interjected.

"Of course," Mirepoix retorted clearly.

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.

"What have you done?" he murmured in a chilling whisper.

"I've done my job, my Lord. You asked me to heal her, and that's what I've done."

Bellatrix felt panic rising within her. She threw a desperate glance at Lord Voldemort.

"What has he done to me, my Lord?"

"I've done nothing wrong!" Edgar Mirepoix protested. "You were in a deplorable state when I first saw you... I noticed the damage done to your ovaries, and I repaired them."

No one saw or heard Lord Voldemort cast a spell, but the next second, Mirepoix was writhing in pain. After a few minutes, the convulsions ceased. However, the Healer didn't get back up.

"You exceeded the instructions I gave you and failed to inform me when you did. For that, you will be punished, Mirepoix."

The Healer didn't respond. He lay trembling on the bedroom floor.

"Rodolphus, take Mirepoix to the Sanctuary."

"Yes, my Lord."

Bellatrix had forgotten he was there. Rodolphus struggled to hide his excitement. With more energy than usual, he strode over to the limp body of the Frenchman and disapparated, not without casting Bellatrix a joyful smile. He was evidently pleased with the news. Left alone with her Master, Bellatrix couldn't say the same. Fear and dread threatened to overwhelm her. Lord Voldemort sat on the bed and placed his hand on the Death Eater's stomach. He had made a similar gesture the first time she had seen him after her wedding. A strange shadow passed over his face.

"I've never been interested in the healing arts, and I didn't know it was possible to regenerate ovaries as damaged as yours..."

He spoke softly, almost in an apologetic tone. Bellatrix, tears in her eyes, was unable to reply. She placed her hands on his, and to her great surprise, Voldemort didn't pull away. She hadn't touched him in so long...