Obsession

Chapter 5

"Too much?"

"N-no. Just right." Rodolphus straightened his deep blue velvet dress robe and ogled his wife. Bellatrix smiled a little and did a cheeky turn for him, showing off the way her wispy silk gown moved. It was cut in a deep V, almost to her waist, that showed off her breasts in a way she wouldn't normally do. Braided silk crisscrossed her waist, giving way to a swishing, fluid skirt. Bellatrix had lined her eyes thickly with kohl and had charmed her shiny red lipstick to stay for the whole night. She'd worn ballet-style flats for comfort, which she knew only made her look shorter, and she asked,

"I ought not wear heels, you don't think?"

Rodolphus grinned and stepped up to her. He was short himself for a grown wizard, and as he put his arms round Bellatrix's bare shoulders, he admitted,

"I rather like feeling this much taller than you. Keep the flats, will you?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Fragile masculinity, eh?"

Rodolphus' smile faltered a little, and Bellatrix reached up to cup his soft jaw in her hand. She smiled warmly at him and asked,

"Do you remember Valentine's Day of our sixth year? You Conjured me roses."

Rodolphus scoffed and shook his head. "They wilted after a few hours. They were an utter failure."

"They meant everything to me," Bellatrix assured him. She stroked his jaw and nodded. "I loved you then, and I do now, Dolph."

He touched his forehead to hers. "Promise?"

"Promise," Bellatrix whispered. Rodolphus took a very deep breath then, and Bellatrix told him, "We should go. Grab my winter cloak just there, will you?"
**********************************************

"Malfoy."

"My Lord." Abraxas Malfoy pulled himself away from the conversation he'd been in with his wife and the Averys, stepping away a bit with Voldemort. The maudlin ceremony had just ended, and now House-Elves were scrambling to get the ballroom of Parkinson Hall set up for the dinner and dancing that would follow. As the guests mingled in wait, Voldemort asked Malfoy,

"Well? Is it all arranged?"

"Yes, Master." Malfoy spoke quietly but confidently. "Adbury, a village in Hampshire. We'll go in three days' time, weather permitting."

"Weather permitting?" Voldemort threw up his brows, and Malfoy explained,

"If it is pouring rain, My Lord, it might slow us down or, worse, put out any fires we set."

"Ah. Of course." Voldemort smiled a little and nodded. "Well. Send me an owl at once when it's finished, and we'll meet the morning after to debrief and await Ministry and newspaper coverage."

"Naturally, My Lord. Rest assured that we will serve you properly."

"See that you do. Enjoy yourself tonight," Voldemort said. He stepped away from Malfoy and was approached then by the bride and groom. Polly Parkinson - now Fawley - dipped into a deep and reverential curtsy. Neither she nor her husband, nor either of their families, were in the inner circle of Death Eaters, but they were all loyal Purebloods. It had to have been a surprise, therefore, to find out the Dark Lord would be in attendance. Extra effort had been made with decorations, he could tell. Now Polly spoke in a nervous voice and said,

"My Lord... we are so very honoured, so very privileged to have you in attendance, sir."

"Yes," agreed Clayton Fawley, taking his new wife's hand. "It is an unexpected pleasure, My Lord, that you're here. Thank you very kindly for coming."