Post by rachy on Jul 29, 2010 19:18:24 GMT -8
Title: What Makes Us
Rating: R
Warnings: Voldemort and Bellatrix doing Voldemort and Bellatrix things. And they have no moral compass. It’s a bit graphic, in terms of torture and leading up to sex, but the sex is skimmed over, and it’s not explicit, or at least I don’t think it is. If there’s a problem with the rating,please let me know, and I’m really sorry if that’s the case.
Notes: Right. Went there.
I tried to alter between emotional and unemotional for thoughts as best I could, but I’m unsure as to how it turned out. I’m also pretty sure that Bella’s dad wouldn’t have been one of Voldemort’s men, but I was calling him Lestrange when I started, and it begun to fit. I'm pretty sure this is the most disturbing thing I've written, and I'll leave you with that.
.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
She smiles sweetly, her voice throaty, and yet demure as she stands beneath her father’s arm. Her pulse quickens, and she shuts away her thoughts. He’s supposed to be excellent at Legilimency, and she doesn’t want him to hear the childish thoughts of her first impression of him. She can’t deny that she hasn’t anticipated this exact moment for months, the introduction for absolute years, but for now she must be her father’s respectable, pure blooded daughter, and act with all the station that permits her.
He lets out a small hiss, scraping between his teeth, and Nagini slithers between his feet. He stands, and she lifts his hand. She doesn’t look at him, her dark eyelashes covering her dark eyes, but he feels her hands quiver when she presses a soft kiss across his fingers. He nods to Black, and he escorts his daughter away. It’s a routine he’s done before, meeting the children of his favoured ones when they’re of age, and he doesn’t see how different this meeting was to any other meeting with any other of their daughters, weak-willed and maternal as they were.
.
It is only a week before Black approaches him, thinking of his daughter. He scowls, thinking that his Death Eaters should know by now that he is the single entity in their aims, and no man or – he scoffs at the thought – woman would take, replace or be equal to him in any form.
“My lord.” Black bows, and presses a kiss into the hem of his robes.
“What do you want? Have you erred in my latest mission?” He glares down at him.
“No, my lord. I come to you on the sake of my daughter. Bella wishes to be inducted into service, my lord.” Black doesn’t meet his eyes, but he feels the nerves radiating out of him.
“Your daughter? Wishes to be inducted into service? No woman would be capable.”
“Yes my lord, Bellatrix, and I quite agree, but she was very insistent that she would be an asset in the fight. The fact that she will only recently graduate from Hogwarts alone, she feels is –“
“A waste of my time. A child. A Hogwarts graduate would be no asset of mine, I want nothing to do with the place. You’re a lesser man than I thought, coming here on the whim of a woman.”
“He would only be a lesser man if he were not a greater man in daring to speak of it with you.” Her voice was unfamiliar, throatier and stronger without the restraint of her father. He looks to the doorway in annoyance, and she stands there, fingers clenched tightly around her wand. Her looks are not plain, dark waves of hair and dark eyes, and she seems stronger then her father.
“And so you are Father’s daughter, are you, Bellatrix?” He looks scornfully down at Black, huddled on the floor. She does not reply.
“You would not be capable of the things I require.”
“I am capable of many things, my lord. You judge without evidence.”
“I don’t need evidence. You would be as incapable as your father.” He prods the frozen man with his foot, and kicks him on to his back. His eyes are darting around, and he can taste his nerves on his tongue.
“CRUCIO.” The cry is not his, nor is he the one thrown across the floor, twitching and convulsing against the wall. Bellatrix’s attention is focused purely on the quivering mass that is her father, and he feels a flare of surprise at the gleeful, satisfied smile on her face. She lowers her wand only after some time has passed since her father stopped moving.
“I’ve proved myself capable of taking my father’s place.” Her voice is as cold as his own, but her smirk still remains.
“Then you shall take it. And suffer his consequences.” She swallows, and he turns away, sitting again at the mahogany desk. She leaves the room quietly, not trusting her thoughts until she has apparated safely away. She could see his fleeting, impressed look branded in her thoughts, and swallows grimly at the thought of consequences, twirling her wand between her fingers. She would manage, especially if it meant rising into his inner circle.
..
“You have done very well, Bella.” She smiles, trying to ignore the tremble of delight that shoots through her as his voice caresses her family nickname, a slightly pleased smirk on his face. She’d had a little too much fun with her task, she had to admit. There was something so glorious about watching worthless scum in pain that she had caused, the infinite feel of power that swept through her every vein . She’d almost gotten carried away. Almost. She’d thought of his annoyance, the glower in the eyes that grew redder and narrower every day, the grimace and anger engrained in his narrow mouth, and had lost her enthusiasm.
“Thankyou, my lord.” Her voice lowers, and she caresses the deferential words. She’d risen through the ranks quickly, and was quite sure that she was now in his inner circle.
“Have you spoken to Rodolphous at all, my lord?” She keeps her eyes lowered.
“I have.” She hears the flicker of his amusement, laced into his tone, and feels anger, fury, building through her.
“And what is your opinion, my lord?”
“It is unlikely you will get a better offer, Bella. You would do well to connect your families together, and the Lestranges would only strengthen your pure-blooded status. It would also improve your standing amongst our army.” He looks down at her, his voice slightly patronising.
“And if I wanted a better offer?” She looks up, her eyes showing her defiance.
“ You would not be as foolish as to think you would get one from me, and the Lestranges are one of the most powerful families to think of. You won’t protest this, Bellatrix.”
“I would not be so foolish, my lord.” He sees the flicker of thought and can only steady himself as her hands reach and grip his forearms, and she presses her cool lips to his. It is easier to resist then he has thought, as she presses her warmer body against is, to stand motionless and not be affected by the emotions he knows would be coursing through her veins, because he is more powerful then that. Her hands skate from his arms across his chest, moving to his face, cupping it between her hands and pulling him closer still. Her breathing is unfocused, and she pulls away, her eyes slightly glassy. He realises that he instantly craves the warmth from her body, and considers. Bella is already one of the most devoted servants he has, and this would only cement both her position and make her into his most loyal servant, as well as continuing and extending his power over her.
He takes her hand in his, and guides her through the hallways. She trots along after him, her hand warm, her breathing deep and shaky, until they reach the bedroom. He beckons her in first, a cruel smirk adorning his face, and walks in after her. She stands, looking slightly lost in the middle of the room as her hands fiddle with the buttons for her robe, and he closes and locks the door after him, waving his wand to keep it closed. He hears the slithering of cloth falling to the floor, and grabs her by the shoulders, pinning her to the door. She stares back at him, eyes unfocused and breathing in shallow pants, and her fingers tentatively move to his shirt buttons. He shoves himself closer to her and pushes his mouth onto hers, and her fingers stop fiddling with the buttons and grasp his shirt between her fingers, ripping it open. Her mouth moves along his collarbone, and he runs his fingers through her hair, gripping it tightly and settling her mouth back on his. Buttons fall between them as he yanks her shirt open, and she tugs away, looking at him with unfamiliar emotions written across her face and in her eyes. He looks away, settling his mouth on her neck and sinking his teeth in until she cries out in pain, and he brushes his tongue across the taste of her blood. There is no room for any emotion in this. Only his dominance.
...
He leaves his bed the next morning, while she is still wrapped in his sheets. It is a different sort of power, that he has over her now. Something primal. Something dark, that he will beckon and she will come, if he wants this power again, or even for his smallest wish. It has given him the power he needed, over her, for she is swayed by her emotions, but he cannot say that it hasn’t given her something of him. Not that she would know, or realise, and it is insignificant in the scheme of things, but it is maybe why, in years to come, why she may be the one follower he does not wish to lose.
Rating: R
Warnings: Voldemort and Bellatrix doing Voldemort and Bellatrix things. And they have no moral compass. It’s a bit graphic, in terms of torture and leading up to sex, but the sex is skimmed over, and it’s not explicit, or at least I don’t think it is. If there’s a problem with the rating,please let me know, and I’m really sorry if that’s the case.
Notes: Right. Went there.
I tried to alter between emotional and unemotional for thoughts as best I could, but I’m unsure as to how it turned out. I’m also pretty sure that Bella’s dad wouldn’t have been one of Voldemort’s men, but I was calling him Lestrange when I started, and it begun to fit. I'm pretty sure this is the most disturbing thing I've written, and I'll leave you with that..
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
She smiles sweetly, her voice throaty, and yet demure as she stands beneath her father’s arm. Her pulse quickens, and she shuts away her thoughts. He’s supposed to be excellent at Legilimency, and she doesn’t want him to hear the childish thoughts of her first impression of him. She can’t deny that she hasn’t anticipated this exact moment for months, the introduction for absolute years, but for now she must be her father’s respectable, pure blooded daughter, and act with all the station that permits her.
He lets out a small hiss, scraping between his teeth, and Nagini slithers between his feet. He stands, and she lifts his hand. She doesn’t look at him, her dark eyelashes covering her dark eyes, but he feels her hands quiver when she presses a soft kiss across his fingers. He nods to Black, and he escorts his daughter away. It’s a routine he’s done before, meeting the children of his favoured ones when they’re of age, and he doesn’t see how different this meeting was to any other meeting with any other of their daughters, weak-willed and maternal as they were.
.
It is only a week before Black approaches him, thinking of his daughter. He scowls, thinking that his Death Eaters should know by now that he is the single entity in their aims, and no man or – he scoffs at the thought – woman would take, replace or be equal to him in any form.
“My lord.” Black bows, and presses a kiss into the hem of his robes.
“What do you want? Have you erred in my latest mission?” He glares down at him.
“No, my lord. I come to you on the sake of my daughter. Bella wishes to be inducted into service, my lord.” Black doesn’t meet his eyes, but he feels the nerves radiating out of him.
“Your daughter? Wishes to be inducted into service? No woman would be capable.”
“Yes my lord, Bellatrix, and I quite agree, but she was very insistent that she would be an asset in the fight. The fact that she will only recently graduate from Hogwarts alone, she feels is –“
“A waste of my time. A child. A Hogwarts graduate would be no asset of mine, I want nothing to do with the place. You’re a lesser man than I thought, coming here on the whim of a woman.”
“He would only be a lesser man if he were not a greater man in daring to speak of it with you.” Her voice was unfamiliar, throatier and stronger without the restraint of her father. He looks to the doorway in annoyance, and she stands there, fingers clenched tightly around her wand. Her looks are not plain, dark waves of hair and dark eyes, and she seems stronger then her father.
“And so you are Father’s daughter, are you, Bellatrix?” He looks scornfully down at Black, huddled on the floor. She does not reply.
“You would not be capable of the things I require.”
“I am capable of many things, my lord. You judge without evidence.”
“I don’t need evidence. You would be as incapable as your father.” He prods the frozen man with his foot, and kicks him on to his back. His eyes are darting around, and he can taste his nerves on his tongue.
“CRUCIO.” The cry is not his, nor is he the one thrown across the floor, twitching and convulsing against the wall. Bellatrix’s attention is focused purely on the quivering mass that is her father, and he feels a flare of surprise at the gleeful, satisfied smile on her face. She lowers her wand only after some time has passed since her father stopped moving.
“I’ve proved myself capable of taking my father’s place.” Her voice is as cold as his own, but her smirk still remains.
“Then you shall take it. And suffer his consequences.” She swallows, and he turns away, sitting again at the mahogany desk. She leaves the room quietly, not trusting her thoughts until she has apparated safely away. She could see his fleeting, impressed look branded in her thoughts, and swallows grimly at the thought of consequences, twirling her wand between her fingers. She would manage, especially if it meant rising into his inner circle.
..
“You have done very well, Bella.” She smiles, trying to ignore the tremble of delight that shoots through her as his voice caresses her family nickname, a slightly pleased smirk on his face. She’d had a little too much fun with her task, she had to admit. There was something so glorious about watching worthless scum in pain that she had caused, the infinite feel of power that swept through her every vein . She’d almost gotten carried away. Almost. She’d thought of his annoyance, the glower in the eyes that grew redder and narrower every day, the grimace and anger engrained in his narrow mouth, and had lost her enthusiasm.
“Thankyou, my lord.” Her voice lowers, and she caresses the deferential words. She’d risen through the ranks quickly, and was quite sure that she was now in his inner circle.
“Have you spoken to Rodolphous at all, my lord?” She keeps her eyes lowered.
“I have.” She hears the flicker of his amusement, laced into his tone, and feels anger, fury, building through her.
“And what is your opinion, my lord?”
“It is unlikely you will get a better offer, Bella. You would do well to connect your families together, and the Lestranges would only strengthen your pure-blooded status. It would also improve your standing amongst our army.” He looks down at her, his voice slightly patronising.
“And if I wanted a better offer?” She looks up, her eyes showing her defiance.
“ You would not be as foolish as to think you would get one from me, and the Lestranges are one of the most powerful families to think of. You won’t protest this, Bellatrix.”
“I would not be so foolish, my lord.” He sees the flicker of thought and can only steady himself as her hands reach and grip his forearms, and she presses her cool lips to his. It is easier to resist then he has thought, as she presses her warmer body against is, to stand motionless and not be affected by the emotions he knows would be coursing through her veins, because he is more powerful then that. Her hands skate from his arms across his chest, moving to his face, cupping it between her hands and pulling him closer still. Her breathing is unfocused, and she pulls away, her eyes slightly glassy. He realises that he instantly craves the warmth from her body, and considers. Bella is already one of the most devoted servants he has, and this would only cement both her position and make her into his most loyal servant, as well as continuing and extending his power over her.
He takes her hand in his, and guides her through the hallways. She trots along after him, her hand warm, her breathing deep and shaky, until they reach the bedroom. He beckons her in first, a cruel smirk adorning his face, and walks in after her. She stands, looking slightly lost in the middle of the room as her hands fiddle with the buttons for her robe, and he closes and locks the door after him, waving his wand to keep it closed. He hears the slithering of cloth falling to the floor, and grabs her by the shoulders, pinning her to the door. She stares back at him, eyes unfocused and breathing in shallow pants, and her fingers tentatively move to his shirt buttons. He shoves himself closer to her and pushes his mouth onto hers, and her fingers stop fiddling with the buttons and grasp his shirt between her fingers, ripping it open. Her mouth moves along his collarbone, and he runs his fingers through her hair, gripping it tightly and settling her mouth back on his. Buttons fall between them as he yanks her shirt open, and she tugs away, looking at him with unfamiliar emotions written across her face and in her eyes. He looks away, settling his mouth on her neck and sinking his teeth in until she cries out in pain, and he brushes his tongue across the taste of her blood. There is no room for any emotion in this. Only his dominance.
...
He leaves his bed the next morning, while she is still wrapped in his sheets. It is a different sort of power, that he has over her now. Something primal. Something dark, that he will beckon and she will come, if he wants this power again, or even for his smallest wish. It has given him the power he needed, over her, for she is swayed by her emotions, but he cannot say that it hasn’t given her something of him. Not that she would know, or realise, and it is insignificant in the scheme of things, but it is maybe why, in years to come, why she may be the one follower he does not wish to lose.
Good job!
