Obsession

Chapter 1

December 1971

"Stupefy!"

Bellatrix cackled with happiness as her spell took hold on Manna Holden, the Auror she'd tracked down in Essex. The other witch toppled over, her wand already having been seized by Bellatrix during a fierce duel. Bellatrix had explicit orders to get Holden to the Dark Lord alive for interrogation, so she Conjured ropes and bound the other witch up before Disapparating. When she appeared outside the Apparition Point at Malfoy Manor, the Stunning Spell wore off, and Manna Holden squirmed and yelled inside her bindings.

"Silencio. Immobulus. Wingardium Leviosa."

Soon enough, Bellatrix was guiding the frozen, bound, silent form of Manna Holden into the Manor. Holden's quiet body floated as Bellatrix dragged her along, bringing her up through the main stairwell and into the meeting room where she was expected.  Inside she found Lord Voldemort waiting, his arms crossed overflowing black robes as he smirked with satisfaction.

"Well done, Bellatrix," he nodded, and Bellatrix grinned as she set Holden's body down on the ground before her master. She watched as he put his own spells on her, taking control of the Auror, and he nodded to Bellatrix as he said softly, "You may go."

"Thank you, My Lord." Bellatrix bowed her head and turned to go. Then she heard from behind her,

"Bellatrix."

She turned quickly to see Voldemort staring straight at her, studying her, his dark eyes going up and down her form. She watched his throat bob a little, and then he murmured,

"Fine work today. Dismissed."
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Of all the things Lord Voldemort should be doing at this Christmas gathering, he thought, staring at Bellatrix Lestrange was not one of them.

She'd eagerly joined his ranks straight out of Hogwarts. That summer, she'd married Rodolphus Lestrange, who had just as enthusiastically come into Voldemort's service. It was Bellatrix who had proven herself fierce and fearless in combat, loyal, and courageous to the point of putting herself directly in harm's way more often than not. Rodolphus was an adequate foot soldier, but Bellatrix was something different. She was... a beast of her own sort.

For the last several months, Voldemort had often found himself eyeing her. Sometimes during a meeting, he'd catch her gaze for a half-second, forcing himself not to hold it. He'd see her walking through the gardens of Malfoy Manor toward the Apparition Point, and he'd study her movements through the window of his office.

She was beautiful in a strange, unconventional way. Her features were, at once childish and mature. She had wide eyes of the deepest brow, full pink lips, and sharp cheekbones with a thin, almost gangly body. Her hair was a thrashing sort of cascade, black ringlets that were barely controlled. She was young. She was beautiful. She was loyal, brave, and intelligent. Still, Voldemort loathed himself for looking at her so often.

First of all, he must not trouble himself with trifling things like lust if he meant to become the ruler of wizarding Britain. There was no time, no space, or energy to be granted to the pursuit of a witch.  And, anyway, she was not available. She'd been married to Rodolphus Lestrange for over a year now.

But here he was, in the middle of the ballroom at Malfoy Manor, clutching a glass of white wine and staring. She was standing with her husband, his arm laced comfortably around her narrow waist, as the two of them talked with her sister Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort huffed out a rather frustrated breath and swigged down the rest of his wine. He flicked his eyes toward the dance floor, where people were smiling and celebrating the coming holiday. Then he Vanished his empty wine glass with nonverbal, wandless magic and stalked over to where Bellatrix stood.