Author's Notes: Written for Inkfire's "Rewriting" challenge on xoxLewrahxox's Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful forum.
Your challenge theme for the next two weeks will be: rewriting! I want you to pick a specific element or a storyline from either a myth, a tale or any piece of literary work, and use it within a Harry Potter story. Wordcount must be a multiple of 100.
"The Dark Lord desires you."
The words, spoken by Rodolphus with almost painful bluntness, startled Bellatrix. "Why would he desire me?"
"I have spoken to him about you, and he has said he desires you. What does it matter why?" Rodolphus's lip curled. "It only means that you've made enough of a whore of yourself that even the Dark Lord knows…"
Her face flamed and fists clenched. "I have not made a whore of myself."
"Don't pretend that you haven't. There isn't one Death Eater who can't honestly say you've been in his bed," Rodolphus sneered, and Bellatrix looked away. It was hardly worth denying.
It had all started out harmlessly enough – nights in other men's beds while Rodolphus was away were scarcely enough to be ashamed of, especially when Bellatrix knew full well that her husband had all the prostitutes that he could possibly desire. When she could have him, she was faithful, and their relationship did not suffer for it.
But it had all gotten out of hand. Word started to spread amongst the Death Eaters that Bellatrix was "loose" or "promiscuous" – the exact wording varied. And now the Dark Lord had heard those rumours, Bellatrix thought, furious. And now he wanted to learn for himself. Of course he did.
"Very well," she said to Rodolphus. "I'll go to him tonight, if that is what he wishes from me."
Bellatrix did not bother much with her appearance – simply washed and allowed her hair to fall loosely about her shoulders, and dressed in clothing that could be removed quickly and easily. She did not look at Rodolphus when she left.
The Dark Lord was waiting for her.
She did not meet his eyes when she stepped into his chamber. It was scarcely worth it.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," he said, and his voice was pleasantly cool and detached. "It is an honour to have your… fine company."
"It is an honour to serve my Lord in whatever way he desires," Bellatrix said simply. She had no interest in formalities, and kept her head bowed to undo the fastenings of her dress, letting it slip down to pool her ankles as she approached him.
She raised her head, shivering a little. "Yes, my Lord?"
He was looking at her intently – not at the lush curves of her body the way any other man would have, but straight into her eyes, evaluating her. She swallowed, cheeks reddening – it would have been far less uncomfortable if he had simply been gazing at her with lust the way any other man would have.
"Is… something wrong, my Lord?"
"Put your dress back on."
"If I desired a whore, I would not choose one who has such potential as you do…" His voice was low and intense and he stood up to face Bellatrix, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Rodolphus has told us about you, and a woman such as yourself, I would rather have in my ranks than in my bed."