Obsession

Chaos Chapter 1

"My Lord, are you certain I look all right? I'm worried... I still look ill."

Bellatrix turned away from the boudoir mirror, adjusting her sleeveless leather tunic and gauntlets. Her hair had been yanked back into a ferocious-looking knot. This was the first meeting she'd be attending at Voldemort's side as The Dark Lady, the first since making her Horcrux. She frowned when she heard no reply, and she huffed a breath as she returned her attention to her cosmetics case.

She unscrewed the tin of Madam Mahoney's Cover-All Cream and smeared a bit under her eyes. It helped with the dark bags, at least a little. Bellatrix pulled out her stick of charcoal black eyeliner and drew thicker lines; perhaps if she focused attention there; people would pay less heed to her sunken cheeks. Suddenly a reflection appeared in the mirror, a wizard behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Lord Voldemort tipped his head and noted,

"You look thin."

"Well, I've lost quite a lot of weight," Bellatrix admitted. She'd been thin before; she was emaciated now. As if to reiterate that point, Voldemort let his hands trail down her torso and settled his fingers through the leather until she could tell he was counting out her ribs. He frowned into the mirror as she put her eyeliner away, and he insisted,

"You're going to have cake for dinner."

Bellatrix sighed. "Did you lose your appetite afterward?"

"No," Voldemort shrugged, "but you healed differently than I did. I didn't have anyone there to take the pain away so quickly. You handled the whole process better. I... all I know is that you need to eat. I'm going to dose you with Famishing Draught tonight and tomorrow night until I can't poke between your ribs. Understood?"

Bellatrix nodded and shut her cosmetics case. She rose slowly and turned to face him. She felt her eyes well just a little as she suggested,

"I'm ugly to you now. After making the Horcrux. My face looks so ill; my body is so thin. You're not attracted to me."

Voldemort scoffed and shook his head roughly. "How very disrespectful of you to put untrue words into my mouth like that, Bellatrix. I love you, and that's why I had you make a Horcrux. It's why I married you."

"Would you still do it, if you could try all over again?"

He frowned. "Do what? Marry you?"

"There might have been someone better," Bellatrix said meekly, but Voldemort shook his head and quirked up his shoulders.

"You do realise, don't you, that there could never - not in a hundred thousand years - be anyone else? Not under any circumstances whatsoever. So, yes, Bellatrix, I would still do it. I would marry you again... and again, and again, and again."

Bellatrix smirked and whispered, "I do believe once does the trick, Master. Shall we go downstairs?"

"Yes. You look beautiful. Stop sulking." Voldemort snatched Bellatrix's hand and practically dragged her from the suite.

She really did look ill. It had been days since she'd made the Horcrux, but she looked like Muggles did when they had influenza. She was pale and clammy, even with the makeup. People did seem a little worried, especially her father. So halfway through the meeting, Voldemort said rather imperiously,

"The Dark Lady has performed powerful magic. None of you are permitted details for security reasons, but suffice it to say that I can confidently declare her the most accomplished Dark witch in Britain today."

He let that sink in for a moment as Bellatrix smiled weakly, and the others looked at one another, very impressed. They could speculate all they wanted about what sort of magic she'd done. Maybe she'd wiped out an entire species of Magical Creatures. Maybe she'd created a storm from scratch. Maybe she'd murdered someone and made an Inferius. None of them would guess she'd made a Horcrux, and that was fine. They'd see that whatever she'd done had been enough to make her look ill and had been enough to make her lord and master and husband exceedingly proud of her.