Characters: Voldemort, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Lucius, etc.
Disclaimer: JKR pwns all, I pwn none.
This is a crack!fic, so understand...its supposed to be funny and OOC.
Bellatrix arrived outside the Black family house with a smile on her face and the warm glow of anticipation in her stomach. She had been looking forward to this moment for a while, and now it had come- she would be taking up residence with her sister, several Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself. It was the last one that never seemed to escape her thoughts. She had pictured this moment a thousand different ways. Nothing could please her more than to leave her boring, irritating husband at home and set up house somewhere with her true love, Voldemort.
She knocked on the door quickly and carefully- her arrival was expected, but she could not be sure that a new member of the fold wouldn’t think to question her. Thankfully it was her sister who opened the door.
She was pulled into the house quickly by Narcissa and given an unwanted hug. Pulling back, she saw the toll these last few months had taken on her sister. Her blonde hair had gone too long without a brush, and her eyes were wild and frenetic.
“You have no idea what it’s been like here, Bella…”
But Bella wouldn’t hear of it. She scoffed and levitated her suitcases up the staircase.
“Narcissa,” the other woman shuddered at the use of her name, “you should be glad that the Dark Lord has kept your husband alive. We live to serve Him, and you shouldn’t complain. You should be honored to have Him in your household. I only wish that He had consented to stay with me…”
Narcissa looked defeated- she had known all along that Bella would side with her master…she would expect nothing else. However, she had wished for more sympathy. After all, her son had already risked his life fighting for the Death Eaters.
Bellatrix pushed past her sister and moved up the stairs. She marveled at how the house already radiated the presence of the Dark Lord. On the landing, she took a moment to lean her head back and smell the air. She sighed. It was as if the wallpaper, the floors, and everything around her smelt of Him. It was a soft smell, like muggle laundry detergent. Yes, to smell Him was to love Him, and love him Bella did.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she glided down a long hallway pausing just before she got to the last door. She pushed it open, floating her suitcases in front of her. It was a grand room- black tile and black walls. There was a fireplace in the corner and a large bed draped in red fabric. Bella giggled to herself at the sight of it, moving towards it with a swagger in her hips and a grin on her face.
This is where He sleeps, she thought to herself, If he sleeps.
Truth be told, Bellatrix had her own plan to find out exactly what the Dark Lord’s sleeping habits were.
After swinging the door closed with a flick of her wand, Bella lay down on the bed in which her precious master had once lay. Feeling the soft satin against her skin, she purred. It pleased her to know that her Lord had good taste in fabric. In fact, her Lord had good taste in a lot of fine things. Music, for instance. Many a time she had caught him humming along to “Copacabana” when the mood was right. It only made her love him more. She constantly imagined scenarios that would bring them closer. Like, perhaps one year she would buy him Barry Manilow tickets for his birthday…or, at least, hex someone WITH tickets and steal them. It would lead to a night of passionate sex set to the musical stylings of Mr. Manilow himself.
Suddenly Bella heard the door creak open. There was her master, in all his glory.
“Bellatrix, I swear to GOD you’re going to wrinkle my sheets!”
Voldemort picked at the lace on his nightgown. Bellatrix’s eyes were full of love as she admired the pink lace.
“GET OFF! These sheets are EGYPTIAN COTTON. Stay on them any longer and you’re going to ruin them beyond repair and I’ll have to send Lucius back to Bed, Bath and Beyond tomorrow! He’s already going to have to wash them tonight!”
Both heard a muffled groan from the next room. Lucius had obviously heard he would be wrestling with the muggle washer later that night.
“Yeah, that’s right LUCIUS. Teach you to break my prophecy! You’re lucky I’m not making you polish my Rod Stewart record collection!”
Voldemort shot an angry look towards Bellatrix and she immediately jumped off the bed and ran to kneel and her master’s feet.
“I’m so sorry, my Lord!”
Her lips found the toes of his bunny slippers and graced them with a kiss.
Voldemort was hardly amused. He crossed his arm and started tapping his foot.
“You’re going to make me miss The Bachelor. It’s the season finale…you know what I’m like on finale night…”
He gave her a piercing stare downwards and she shirked backwards.
“Alright, Bella…so you’re going to be living here now.”
She nodded, happy her Lord was finally breaching the subject.
“Well, we have to lay down some rules first.
Her smile faded a bit, unsure of what was to come. She couldn’t IMAGINE being barred from his room, disallowed to oil his bald head, or kept from watching a Seinfeld marathon with him.
“So, rule number one: DON’T interrupt my ‘Barry Time.’”
Bellatrix’s eyes swam with confusion.
“Your…’Barry Time’ my Lord?”
Voldemort rolled his eyes.
“BARRY TIME BELLATRIX!!!! The 30 minute shower I allot myself every day to listen to, sing along to, and simply PONDER the great Barry Manilow.”
Bellatrix nodded vigorously.
“Of course, my Lord! I shall never interrupt your time with the great Barry Manilow.”
Voldemort gave her a pleased nod. She grinned.
“Rule number two: Stay off my bed, away from my room, and OUT of my underwear drawer!”
Bellatrix looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes.
“Oh, yes, Bella- I know you were the one that stole my boxer briefs and tried to blame it on Lucius.”
She gave him a sad face and nodded, heartbroken as she was.
“I promise never to do it again my Lord.”
Voldemort sighed greatly before continuing.
“Finally, the third and most important rule; Respect my personal space.”
Once again, Bellatrix’s brows furrowed into confusion.
“I mean- no hugs, no handshakes, and CERTAINLY not whatever you tried to do to me that night in the Virgin Islands.”
Bellatrix pouted. That night, actually, had been one of the best of her life. Three shots of tequila and Voldemort had been spinning her around the dance floor, though occasionally pausing to dance with a cabana boy named Rico.
“I…understand,” she muttered unconvincingly.
Voldemort finally graced her with a smile.
“Good! Now we can watch The Bachelor! That Chris Harrison is so fierce…”