Post by Voodoo Dolly on Oct 21, 2007 7:54:45 GMT -5
Summary: What if Regulus` plans had failed, what if the dark lord had managed to recapture his locket where then would he hide it? Bellatrix/Voldemort.
Rateing: Safe for all
It was late on that chilly autumn evening when Lord Voldemort sat perched silently on the window shill of the rooms he had christened his. Silently he stared out into the darkness of the Riddle manor grounds. His clawed hand ran a glistening golden object thoughtfully between his long pale fingers silently pondering his next actions.
It had been over a week ago that his locket had been rescued just in the nick of time from that traitor Regulus Black. It… worried him – although he hated to admit it, that some foolish death eater not even in his intimate circle and a pathetic house-elf had managed to infiltrate and steal something of this importance. Regulus had paid for his crimes not just from his hand – but the hand of his own equally disgusted cousin Bellatrix.
Bellatrix… how it frustrated him that every time he pondered a new and safer place for the 1/6th of his soul it was her face that greeted him as an answer. It would be foolish. Already he had trusted a horcrux to the Lestranges for their loyalty and yet he could not doubt the logic behind it either. Bellatrix was indeed his most faithful, his most feared he saw how even his death eaters looked at her with absolute terror; she would protect anything he gave her above her own life he knew. And she was beautiful. It was an established fact even he could not deny. A beautiful locket on a beautiful woman’s throat would never be questioned. Feared and beautiful it was a stunning combination that made her more attractive to him then any other in the mansion and yet he had never once requested her presence to his bed chambers as he had several other members of his female death eaters. He told himself it was merely a sensible decision – she was the only female in his intimate circle you didn’t mix business with pleasure. But deep down, he knew better.
“You requested my presence my lord.” His thoughts were soon interrupted by Bella’s awe struck tones, glancing up he found her bowing to him her eyes glistening with absolute delight that she had been requested here.
“Bella,” Her name flowed so freely from his lips it was as if it had been chosen for him to say. “I have a gift for you.” He watched with faint amusement as her eyes grew as wide as a house-elves glistening with honour and arrogant pride. Smirking to himself he rose from his window shill long strides bringing him to stand before her closer then he had ever deemed to stand before, close enough to hear how her breath faltered and deepened at his presence, to catch that faint coppery scent of blood masked with a dark cloud of perfume that radiated from her.
Silently he circled around her, red slits considering her thoughtfully. He listened intently as her breath deepened further a shaky gasp escaping her when his cold finger tips came to her pale neck long nails drawing faint red lines across the perfect skin as he brushed her hair over his shoulder surprising even himself when he found his head bowing only just stopping himself before his lips came in contact with the creamy skin she taunted him with day after day.
“It is… precious to me.” He explained lips coming to hover just beside her ear hating how his hands found her arms delighting in touching as much of her as he could possibly get away with, hating how this simple woman could provoke his hands to move against his will and yet delighting in how she shivered with glee against him her eyes falling closed as if she were in the hands of a lover.
“I’m honoured my lord.” She whispered breathlessly, tingling from his small touches. How often she had dreamed of being touched by him, of standing so close to him, of having his godly breath against her skin. The dark lord merely smirked in reply to her words hands clasping either side of the chain drawing the gold around her neck his thumbs brushing against her skin his own delight shuddering down his spine as she couldn’t stop her thrilled quivering against him. Reluctantly he stepped away having fastened the necklace his chilled body instantly missing the warmth that had radiated from her, the softness of her skin to his frosty touch.
“Protect it.” He spoke all softness vanished from his voice returning to the sharp bark of an order. He watched as her hand snaked down to catch the golden locket that lay between her breasts her eyes glistening with absolute honour and something he couldn’t quite place – a loss as if she were a child just been denied of having Christmas after the presents have been perched under the tree for weeks.
“With my life!” She swore to him passionately forcing his smirk to return to his face.
“Good – now leave me.” He dismissed her simply turning his back to her, red eyes returning to the dark window. He was quite unaware of how that night his most trusted follower would be perched on her bed tenderly stroking the red scratches he had left on her neck, how her husband would look in disgust as she continued to stroke and finger the locket late at night or how that night he would stay awake at his desk running his fingertips against his lips attempting to catch her lingering scent all thoughts of the protection of his locket quite gone from his mind as he was kept awake with a rather different worry.
Rateing: Safe for all
My gift to you
It was late on that chilly autumn evening when Lord Voldemort sat perched silently on the window shill of the rooms he had christened his. Silently he stared out into the darkness of the Riddle manor grounds. His clawed hand ran a glistening golden object thoughtfully between his long pale fingers silently pondering his next actions.
It had been over a week ago that his locket had been rescued just in the nick of time from that traitor Regulus Black. It… worried him – although he hated to admit it, that some foolish death eater not even in his intimate circle and a pathetic house-elf had managed to infiltrate and steal something of this importance. Regulus had paid for his crimes not just from his hand – but the hand of his own equally disgusted cousin Bellatrix.
Bellatrix… how it frustrated him that every time he pondered a new and safer place for the 1/6th of his soul it was her face that greeted him as an answer. It would be foolish. Already he had trusted a horcrux to the Lestranges for their loyalty and yet he could not doubt the logic behind it either. Bellatrix was indeed his most faithful, his most feared he saw how even his death eaters looked at her with absolute terror; she would protect anything he gave her above her own life he knew. And she was beautiful. It was an established fact even he could not deny. A beautiful locket on a beautiful woman’s throat would never be questioned. Feared and beautiful it was a stunning combination that made her more attractive to him then any other in the mansion and yet he had never once requested her presence to his bed chambers as he had several other members of his female death eaters. He told himself it was merely a sensible decision – she was the only female in his intimate circle you didn’t mix business with pleasure. But deep down, he knew better.
“You requested my presence my lord.” His thoughts were soon interrupted by Bella’s awe struck tones, glancing up he found her bowing to him her eyes glistening with absolute delight that she had been requested here.
“Bella,” Her name flowed so freely from his lips it was as if it had been chosen for him to say. “I have a gift for you.” He watched with faint amusement as her eyes grew as wide as a house-elves glistening with honour and arrogant pride. Smirking to himself he rose from his window shill long strides bringing him to stand before her closer then he had ever deemed to stand before, close enough to hear how her breath faltered and deepened at his presence, to catch that faint coppery scent of blood masked with a dark cloud of perfume that radiated from her.
Silently he circled around her, red slits considering her thoughtfully. He listened intently as her breath deepened further a shaky gasp escaping her when his cold finger tips came to her pale neck long nails drawing faint red lines across the perfect skin as he brushed her hair over his shoulder surprising even himself when he found his head bowing only just stopping himself before his lips came in contact with the creamy skin she taunted him with day after day.
“It is… precious to me.” He explained lips coming to hover just beside her ear hating how his hands found her arms delighting in touching as much of her as he could possibly get away with, hating how this simple woman could provoke his hands to move against his will and yet delighting in how she shivered with glee against him her eyes falling closed as if she were in the hands of a lover.
“I’m honoured my lord.” She whispered breathlessly, tingling from his small touches. How often she had dreamed of being touched by him, of standing so close to him, of having his godly breath against her skin. The dark lord merely smirked in reply to her words hands clasping either side of the chain drawing the gold around her neck his thumbs brushing against her skin his own delight shuddering down his spine as she couldn’t stop her thrilled quivering against him. Reluctantly he stepped away having fastened the necklace his chilled body instantly missing the warmth that had radiated from her, the softness of her skin to his frosty touch.
“Protect it.” He spoke all softness vanished from his voice returning to the sharp bark of an order. He watched as her hand snaked down to catch the golden locket that lay between her breasts her eyes glistening with absolute honour and something he couldn’t quite place – a loss as if she were a child just been denied of having Christmas after the presents have been perched under the tree for weeks.
“With my life!” She swore to him passionately forcing his smirk to return to his face.
“Good – now leave me.” He dismissed her simply turning his back to her, red eyes returning to the dark window. He was quite unaware of how that night his most trusted follower would be perched on her bed tenderly stroking the red scratches he had left on her neck, how her husband would look in disgust as she continued to stroke and finger the locket late at night or how that night he would stay awake at his desk running his fingertips against his lips attempting to catch her lingering scent all thoughts of the protection of his locket quite gone from his mind as he was kept awake with a rather different worry.
. I think the last paragraph will forever be my favourite, and I can easily see Bella laying in bed, petting the marks he left on her, and he still thinking of her and how her skin felt against his lips.
Wow
