Author: desolate butterfly
Genre: drabble, horror/drama
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange is the Dark Lord's favourite disciple.
He watches her face when she bows before him and kisses his hand, her lips always cool on his skin, despite their fiery red colour.
She is the only one he looks at anymore, because she is the only one of his followers who still receives him as he ought to be received.
Not Lucius, who is respectful and looks at him with an eagerness that betrays his desire for power.
Not Pettigrew, who fears him so much his lips tremble uncontrollably against his bone-white knuckles as he murmurs his loyalties into the Dark Lord's robes.
Not Severus, who closes his eyes when he bows, and wears his reverence like a mask.
Only Bella, her eyes wide and sparking with madness, her mouth open with the awe of being in his presence--only Bella welcomes him with the joy and ecstasy he should be welcomed with. He, the saviour of the wizarding world; the one who has come to purge the land of the blight of muggles and their impurities.
Bella stretches her arms towards him in a childish gesture and beams when Voldemort smiles benevolently at her and pats her head.
Tonight, when he takes her to his bed, he will allow her to worship him fully, as she deserves.
She is his beloved disciple.
Any commentary is appreciated.