Chapter Fourteen: New Moon of Darkness
The new moon remained in the western sky, seemingly winking at Malfoy Manor, even after nearly a couple of hours had passed and the storm continued. Bellatrix approached the padlock door of the study Voldemort was inhabiting, with her wand she aimed it at the door's side, at the hinges, until light streamed through and it was unlocked. She pushed it open, as it heaved forward. She stood in the study in the erotic clothing she had assembled to impress him, as she was so desperately in the mood for closeness. Yet the high heels and spikes were like a dominatrix.
She caught her breath, as her dark brown eyes darted around, until she spotted him and then rested her heavily lidded eyes upon her. Bellatrix's face frowned feeling a surge of jealously. For there was Voldemort, lost in thought, as he sat on a high-backed chair. Bellatrix could not bare to see one hand stroking absentmindedly the snout of the snake and with his right hand; he fingered his wand, the long fingers shaking.
He did sense her presence though, and without looking, she saw him beckon her, but with reluctance, the long yew wand signaling to come forward.
Bellatrix came forward to where Voldemort was seated, unwavering in her gaze. She knelt at his feet, the huge black cape swirling around her, and folding at her ankles, only her head sticking up, until she meekly lowered her head, when his eyes narrowed down to get a look at her.
A few seconds past and then Voldemort's face contorted, amusement curling at the corners of his mouth. He lightly admonished, "Why Bella, you stole an article of clothing? The cape is mine…"
Bellatrix actually giggled gleefully and peered at him. Voldemort did not laugh, which Bellatrix found strange. He seemed to be considering what to do with her for a moment. Bellatrix just shone with adoration of him. It was like she was his little daughter and she was caught wearing daddy's clothes.
"Silly little witch…," he finally meted out, and he looked at her with minimal esteem.
At these words, Bellatrix's face screwed up, face flushing and mouth parting. She was not pleased to be referred to in such a lowly way. She looked to see the snake still resting across Voldemort's shoulders, and she wrinkled her nose in disapproval, jealous fury mounting to see the large white hand continuing it's caress of the snake's snout. She eyed Nagini beadily.
Voldemort saw what she was thinking, but ignored it.
He eyed her testily and said, "Now, Bella…there is no more lying to your master, however indirectly you chose to deceive me. For I know very well, as I saw it in your sister's vulnerable mind and I of course, am more than capable of deducing whom you meant for procuring it…It was you who made a Dreamless Sleep Potion, was it not?"
Bellatrix gulped and looked suddenly truly saddened but not all abashed by her conniving motive. "Yes, Master…" And sounding like her usual self, she asked, "You seek to punish me?"
And at this query, she looked up at him now, pouting her dangerous red lips, and fluttering the spidery curled eyelashes.
"Master, I was wrong to keep from-"
But Voldemort held up a large white hand. He considered Bellatrix for a moment that felt like eternity, as she waited for his judgment to fall.
"My wanton thing…No. No, wanton thing," and being referred to deliberately as a thing, Bellatrix, raised one thick brow, startled. She found it odd, unnerving even to be called only as a "thing," a "wanton thing."
"However, I desire a good shag…," said Voldemort with a casual air, a casualness he would never reveal, except to his closest Death Eaters. Immediately, Bellatrix edged even closer before him.
A calculating expression past on the snake-like face. And then his old, almost deadened hands undid the space between his legs, parting the robes. Bellatrix's head rose eagerly like a serpent rearing itself, and as this happened, Nagini slid from Voldemort's shoulders, no longer being touched like she wanted to be. Nagini slid past Bellatrix on the hard floor, cocking its head curiously.
Bellatrix then licked her lips in anticipation as the snake slid away from her and the Dark Lord. She saw the well-endowed cock of the Heir of Slytherin spring out, and her face fell, disappointed.
"Did that start because of Cissy, My lord?" she asked in a feeble little voice, no longer willing.
And her dark eyes stared at his bloody member, in which the erection had lasted a prolonged period.
Voldemort smirked meanly. "I shall keep you guessing on that score, Bella…
"Has Lucius finished squabbling with his wife like the spoiled scoundrel he is?"
Bellatrix burst with churlish intonation, "Yes – Yes – Yes." She did not want to talk about it. All Bellatrix wanted was him to be inside her, but only if the erection would go.
She looked back at the space between his legs at the exposed robes, a lugubrious countenance upon her. Voldemort leaned back, and waited expectantly, knowing he should not need to even ask, he had certainly implied it to her.
But the moments tore on as Bellatrix hesitated, her face growing pained, a pain so severe she looked agonized like she was being subjected to the Cruciatus. She could not throw away her pride and suck what Narcissa had so clearly just had, for she must have a unique experience, just for herself.
She heard Voldemort sigh irritably and shift his weight. For Lord Voldemort did not like to be denied what he wants, and those things, which Voldemort was denied, Voldemort must get.
"My Lord…Master! I-I Offer my blood. Take my blood first and I will be happy to have you just as you are. Take me for my blood!" she wailed. It was really for the subconscious reason that Bellatrix was worried being Pure-blood was no longer satisfying Voldemort, and perhaps Narcissa had replaced him as his most desirable. At least Bellatrix believed she was meant to be Voldemort's prime sexual prospect.
Voldemort's nostrils flared and he lurched, deeply annoyed, "Since when can one negotiate with Lord Voldemort?"
She responded in an out of control rant, "Oh, but Master I cannot!...My blood, my blood, have me for my blood!" She said again, squirming in Voldemort's cape. She was in a much worse, much crazier frame of mind than she had been last night when she offered her blood on the altar.
She looked at him desperately and could see he was still refusing this bargain. Her thighs were spread out in kneeling position, and she pulled herself backward like a woman in labor, her vagina displayed for him, head on the hard floor. And Bellatrix squeezed her thighs together, the short spikes pierced her skin, meshing them together, and they clinked like miniature swords. It was an agonizing sensation, and macabre with the blood oozing onto the cape.
"My lord…here is my blood. Taste my sweet, Pure-blood and then have my pussy and I will be happy!" she cried pathetically.
Voldemort almost rose, finally irate and his knuckles whitened convulsively over the armrests to restrain his rage. He actually raised his voice, yelling in a sneer, "Do it! Unless you wish to be Crucioed. In which case, you will never have me inside you! Your choice…"
Bellatrix was a heap on the ground now, curled up in a little black ball like an unloved kitten, but she had heard his words. She finally rose upward again, issuing dry sobs and panting in her desperate desire for him, her eyes cold and tearless.
She looked like a rose, a black treacherous one the spikes like the thorns, the blood streaming down her thighs, staining her and taking what was left of her glamour.
She looked at him mournfully for another second, as she struggled to prie her legs apart, the flesh making ripping and tearing sounds.
Then she sucked with rabid eagerness. Between breaths she panted, like she was releasing a flowery fragrance on her breath. Bellatrix felt revitalized. She felt better, desirable once again.
Her hands flew everywhere on Voldemort, petting him as she moaned like crazy, savouring the satiable sensation of the Dark Lord's fertile meat inside her. Obsessively loving him, she was petting him everywhere her hands could go, and she soon forgot why his dick was erect.
Yet he could feel her affectionate touch and he did not like it, not at all. He finally pushed her hands away from his, he did not need her touch to fulfill him, just the act would be enough. She continued staring at him, at those cold red-eyes glinting in the pale, mask-like face. She believed he was thinking of her, but she did not know he was concerned with anything but her welfare.
He could still feel her affectionate touch, or rather to him, it was hands grappling and he did not like it. She looked at him almost the entire time he sucked, as his eyes looked beyond her, at the view in the window.
He could not stand his hands on her anymore, with a wave of his wand still in his right hand, her arms flapped up above her head towards the headdress, and searing flames entwined the wrists. Her hand remained tied above her, the flames giving her minor burns.
He continued to allow her to suck for another minute, now he himself could enjoy it much more. Bellatrix's head buried into Voldemort's lap, and now she was practically groveling at his feet.
Voldemort rose and in a soft hiss said, "Enough of that for now…" Bellatrix instantly rose to stand, ready for his next instruction.
She wanted to drink more of his cum, and she didn't want to swallow her last bit. She decided something different, and her tall frame arched backwards to kiss the Dark Lord and she would let him get a taste of himself.
Her dangerous red lips were an inch from impacting his liplesss mouth, when she saw him turn on his heel, and he did not look at her, but she could see he was disgusted.
Bellatrix forced herself to swallow, gulping. She said somberly, "My Lord, I was to fill your mouth with your seed."
He shook his head deliberately and Bellatrix looked disappointed again. She was upset that she couldn't snog him, and she had never gotten to.
Her knees shook, as she stood before him, ready to beg again. But as she opened her mouth to start, he waved his wand, and the cape plummeted, landing around her sandaled feet.
A look of surprise came across Voldemort's face, and then quickly turned to a hungry look.
"Master, I duplicated the Dark Mark", boasted Bellatrix. And showing off, she twisted her torso left and right. She had branded a copy of the Dark Mark onto her breasts with a spell during the wee hours of the morning. There was no longer any nipples, just skulls each chewing a serpent's tail, the serpents each wrapping all around both boobs.
She flashed the new tattoo again, and it gleamed silver in the meager light of the study, the scarification on it was obvious, for Bellatrix had to remove some of her flesh for it to stick.
Voldemort's face twisted, the jaw expanded in a wide arc, almost like a smile, and his hands outstretched towards her breasts, eyes lit up. In an instant, he had his hands, one on each breast. Bellatrix screamed with masochistic delight, her boobs burning from the scars, as it was a duplicated copy of a Dark Mark, and it was now a burning bright red as if he was summoning her.
He released his grip and Bellatrix screamed in a trill, brown eyes bulging from the sockets, "Oh! Oh, again, Master! Touch me! Touch me!"
But Voldemort just laughed a hollow echo that died down into a hiss. He waved his wand and she was hurtled forwards, and was suddenly hanging levitated, upside down.
Looking cruel, like he was putting a naughty child in the corner he maneuvered her frame to the wall. At once, he transfigured a spiked collar to her neck, and then a spiked leash, and with a spell he stuck the leash into the floor.
"Why listen to Snape and his collaring idea?," she screeched, objecting to this. "I do not trust him, My Lord…I-I don't take his advice."
Voldemort grabbed a fistful of her curly black locks, her hair now like a messy mat, for her head was nestled against the floor at the wall.
"Hush, Bella. Forget Severus. Snape. You who spent all those years in Azkaban for me…," he placated to her, but very manipulative all the same.
He heard Bellatrix whimper as his strong hands pulled on the roots of her hair. He rode into the anus of her creamy, yet dry skin of her buttocks. It was painful, because Voldemort had used an isolated Crucio on her anus just last night.
"You were punished last night…Yes, but remember Bella, you are always most welcome…and most worthy," he said as if a compliment.
The sound of the word punishment, instantly excited Bellatrix and she felt herself bridge a gap between normalcy and ecstasy, reaching orgasm.
But Voldemort was purposefully choosing not to punish her, understanding this would teach her what he demanded, no true intimacy, no closeness, of which he knew she so pined for with him. And in the process, this was giving her a much harsher punishment, without her knowledge of it!
So he released his enormous erect cock from her sore, scabbed anus, just as she was about to reach orgasm, well aware he was denying her this pleasure. This was to be a punishment after all, and as he released, Bellatrix panted in wretches, just missing out on getting to scream with pleasure.
She started to murmur like a mantra, "More, Master! More Master! More, Master!"
Lazily, he raised his wand and gagged her with a Silencio charm, in which there was a choking noise, and at the same moment with the force emanating from his hand, she fell into a heap upon the floor. He had removed the levitation charm.
And at once, Voldemort turned away from her, looking to the view from the window. He left her collared and leashed, in flame shackles hand-cuffed. Bellatrix finally felt resigned to the fact that she would never get the true intimacy with him that she craved.
He was tired of playing with that toy, and he moved on, throwing open the windowed door. The circular diamond panes were not sparkling like they used to, for it was incredibly dark outside, especially dark for daytime.
He emerged into the atmosphere, standing on the balcony, barefoot, the rain had briefly ceased and it was oddly quiet, as if the storm was waiting to stir again. He took a confident step forward and spread his hands, dismissing a flock of carrion birds. They had visited in hopes of attaining more flesh to eat, as if they instinctively knew where to go to get more from last night's mass execution.
The Dark Lord kept his arms outstretched, robes whipping in the sultry breeze, the edges swirling at his bare ankles. Voldemort was like a primordial god, and he felt empowered, comfortable in his instinctive, animalistic self.
The clouds were ebbing away, forming a partition for Voldemort to see the risen crescent moon, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the light pulsating, but unilluminated. The world was overcast in a light, a light of darkness that seemed impossible, but was existing. He could hear the distant rumbling of thunder, echoing over the hills at the horizon. If there was lightning, it was obstructed by sooty-looking clouds in an ambiguous fog from the dementors breeding. It was so shadowy; the clouds were black shadows, for droves of dementors were circling behind the clouds.
Voldemort basked in the darkness, arms wide, and he inhaled deeply. The air was electrified with power, parched from the thunderstorm so that he could smell it.
Because it was so dark outside, the moonlight reflected into the room creating a darkroom of shadows. Nagini broke free shedding layers of skin, regenerating herself, like she represented the new age upon him and everyone. A backwards grandfather clock, was just inside, behind him now, the hands upside down. It was like signifying time had stopped, the pendulum did not swing, but remained strangely upwards, anywhere but where it should be. And Bellatrix, why she was just a heap like dung in the background and all she could see was patches of the moonlight playing on the floor.
But the figure outside on the balcony stood, in control of their mind, although dark and perhaps insane, he maintained stability and control. His power was absolute, finally and he knew it. The serpentine face that looked to have not seen sunlight for years immersed itself in the glorious darkness. Voldemort's eyes were the only clear lights, in a mind full of plans, just as it ever was. The grandiose megalomania would never cease. He had an empire, and it was rising. He envisioned his eternal reign, forever. He could never be destroyed. And Bellatrix remained panting in Voldemort's immense shadow; she would be in his shadow for the rest of her mortal life.
Because it could only be him – only him. So alone. He must always operate alone.
The darkroom of the study was behind him, and the eyes like coals burning, fixated towards the moon, the dark plans in his mind, and eclipsed everything into an eclipse of darkness. For all those of the so-called light, they would black out at there ineptitude's, for his magical prowess was much more than their weaknesses.
'There is no dark side of magic, it's all dark,' he thought feeling righteous and stronger than he ever had before and he remembered, "Magic is Might". He never felt stronger, and strong, strong because he was alone, his hands in fists, arms outstretched, as he gazed straight ahead at the balcony, just as he looked at the very same balcony at the sunset, the night before his coup. And he now looked to the unilluminated moon. He remained forever unwavering in his determination. Then it had been the end of an era; now, now it was only a start. The start of an age of eternal darkness.
And immutably for Lord Voldemort, seeing through right to his death – All was dark.
I was planning it to end with "All was dark" for months. I did not realize until tonight that this contrasts with DH ending with "All was well." Well for Voldemort that wasn't true, his fate is rather the opposite, something along the lines of "All was dark."
So what do you think "The Midsummer Coup" as a whole, now that I got through the plot?? I'm wondering if anyone noticed the natural motifs that run throughout, I did not do this on purpose: there is a great deal of motifs of the moon, sun, stars, and the heavens.