Author's Notes: Written for Round Two of the Shotput event in the 2012 Hogwarts Games – "write a 500 word drabble about your OTP".
When Bellatrix became Death Eater, she was ashamed of the thoughts that she had had about the Dark Lord. She was a married woman, after all, and Rodolphus – while hardly a perfect example of a husband – was, in general, a good man. He cared for her. He allowed her freedom that most men did not give to their wives. He acknowledged her as an equal, even a superior. And so she had been ashamed that she would so easily and swiftly desert him in favour of fantasies of the Dark Lord.
But desert him she did, and she came to his bed later and later, preferring to let him fall asleep first, and to lie beside him and touch herself and think of the Dark Lord's hands on her, his fingers trailing over her breasts and thighs and his voice, cool and soft in her ear, whispering her name.
When attending meetings, Bellatrix's mind focussed half on thoughts of Aurors and battles, and half upon the power that her Lord commanded, and on the way that he seemed to hold the whole world at attention. She looked up at him with lustful reverence and berated herself later, reminding herself that fantasies of him were girlish and stupid, and that she had no reason to believe that he would ever have an interest in her beyond that that he took in every Death Eater.
And yet the fantasies persisted, making her breathless whenever he was near.
"Stay, Bellatrix," he told her after one meeting, and she trembled, wondering whether she was going to be praised or punished – and whether he could know what thoughts she entertained when he was near her.
"You desire me, Bellatrix," he told her, after a lengthy moment of silence, and Bellatrix was startled by the way he said it – a statement of fact, not a question. "You wish to lie with me."
Bellatrix stammered and blushed and denied it – no, my Lord; it would be presumptuous to think that you would have any desire for me – but he held up his hand to silence her, and she thought that she saw a faint look of amusement flicker in his eyes.
"Honesty, Bellatrix, is a virtue."
And so she had fallen silent, because the mortification of having to admit that she wanted him – how badly she wanted him – was more than she could bear.
"There is no shame in it, Bellatrix."
Oh, but there is, my Lord. You are so much my superior that there is nothing but shame in my desire for you.
She had wanted to say that she had good reason to be ashamed. But she did not. She kept silent.
He was silent for a time, waiting for her answer, then turned from her.
"Very well, Bellatrix," he said. "If you do not wish to express your desires, then I have no reason to fulfil them. You may leave."
And so she did, and sobbed at herself for the opportunity she had lost.