She rolled to her other side, her eyelids flickering as she slept, before settling on her back, one of her hands resting on her engorged stomach.
The door across the lavish, darkened bedroom creaked as it opened, someone padding silently.
She stilled, her hand moving of its own accord and finding her wand. Still asleep, her lips formed words, "Cru-"
"Expelliarmus!" a voice whispered, hushed and worried. Her wand flew from her hand, she starting to stir. "Incarcerous." Ropes flew at Bellatrix, binding her wrists above her head and to the headboard before doing the same to her ankles, each bound to a separate bedpost. "Silencio." Her breathing quieted, still coming slowly- she'd always been a heavy sleeper, he knew.
He made a face at her, angry and repulsed.
She'd humiliated him. In front of all the Death Eaters. She'd spoken roughly, spoken down to him.
It was this baby, he knew. It had started when she'd conceived the Dark Lord's child. She thought she was so in tune with Him now that she was carrying it. But she'd been wrong. He had never arrived, despite calling all of them there. And no more had been said of this other.
He'd kill the child, win back his bride and put her in her place. She'd be tortured for letting it happen and she'd be sent back to him. And he'd have her then. And make her bear his children, not the Dark Lord's. He would have her, subservient and pliant and at home, waiting for him as he murdered muggle-borns and blood traitors. And she'd wait for him every night when he returned home. And she'd be his slavish whore, not the Dark Lord's. No more would his Bellatrix crawl on her knees, worshipping the Dark Lord, begging to kiss and suck him. She would crawl for him, pleading to be allowed to touch him and be allowed to be his whore.
He just had to murder the child and let the Dark Lord torture her for it, let the Dark Lord break her of her will and mind and she'd be his slave.
Creeping closer, his lips twisted in an ugly sneer, "Crucio." Her body arched up, her mouth open in a silent scream of pain, before he released her from the spell, glaring coldly. "Hello, Bellatrix. Did you miss me, miss your husband." Her eyes were angry, her mouth moving and trying to yell at him, silence greeting his ears. He laughed, "You never thought I'd overtake you, did you? Shall I tell you my plan? Shall I tell you how I intend to take you roughly as I murder your child and then leave you, obliviated and bleeding, for the Dark Lord to find?"
Her fingers curled against the headboard, her mouth calling for her wand. But, of course, wandless and silent, her magic wouldn't help her.
"Helpless as a muggle," he sneered. "The great Bellatrix, magicless and bound. And you thought you would bear the Dark Lord's child?" He ran a hand along her cheek before slapping her hard, her eyes still glaring coldly. "Do you want the Cruciatus again, my love? Or perhaps the Imperius. Maybe I'll make you ride me and beg. … You'll be doing it everyday once you've failed the Dark Lord." He reached, holding her throat and squeezing as his other hand picked up her knife, another favorite toy of torture. He cut along her robes, smiling, before squeezing her throat harder as he dragged the blade lightly across her swollen stomach. "Shall I kill him now or as I climax?" he taunted. Her eyes bulged at the lack of air, trying to fight him despite the ropes. "Immobulus," he murmured, her body stilling. "That's a good girl. Just enjoy as your new Lord takes you. You'll bear my children and play my whore." He pressed his lips to her still ones, "You're a very beautiful woman, Bella. But too ambitious; too hungry. It's time you learn your place." He smiled, "... I could call others in. How many have you stepped up, Bella? They'd be so eager to take their rage out on your body, defiling their self-proclaimed queen as the abomination inside her died slowly. … Rabastan? Alecto? Antonin? Fenrir? Or maybe Wormtail? Severus? How many would you take, whore?"
No hurt shined in her eyes at his words, only cold fury, her mouth itching to disabuse his claims of ownership.
He ignored her looks of contempt, unsheathing himself and moving between her opened legs. He raised his hand, angling the blade down, "I'm ready to reclaim you." He slid into her, groaning at the sensation as he knelt between her thighs. He moved within her, tears of fury and indignation leaking from her eyes despite herself. One of his hands trailed from her neck, groping her heavy breast roughly before he dug his teeth into her shoulder, a silent cry sticking in her throat.
He finished quickly, the sensation of heat pressing along him too much after so much time without it, and panted as he released inside her, eager to add to the blow. "And soon you'll be begging me for that," he promised, moving off her. He leaned over her, doing his trousers back up before speaking against the dark mark on her forearm. "Rabastan, my brother, come. Fenrir, Antonin. Come and take your fill of the whore. We will murder the child together and delight in her fall."
Several cracks resounded from the hall before the door was opened, eager, glowing faces shown by the light of a wand, one animal and dark.
"You've bested the bitch?" Fenrir snarled darkly, his eyes wandering over her. "Can I bite her?"
Rabastan laughed, clapping him on the back, "No leaving a sign of who did her or he'll know. … Gonna leave her to take the blame for the child?"
Rodolphus nodded, "Who wants a go while I kill the abomination?"
"I want to eat it," the werewolf growled, stalking closer. He leaned down, opening his mouth to bite her stomach before Antonin shoved him. "You dare!?"
"Remember what that thing did to Dolph in the courtyard. Don't touch her there," he warned.
"Are you scared yet, Bella?" Rodolphus smiled. He looked to Fenrir, "Take her if you want her. But leave no marks."
The werewolf hesitated, "I want to take her as the child dies, when it has no power and I can lap at its blood."
Her brother-in-law moved forward, climbing on the bed between her legs, "Crucio."
"Ah, ah," her husband chimed, smiling. He waved his wand, removing his immobilization. "Now."
"Crucio," the three wizards chimed, Fenrir watching hungrily as her back arched from the mattress, she writhing in pain before one and then another lifted it until only Rabastan was left, aiming his wand at her as he undid himself with his other hand.
"I went to Azkaban for you," he growled, pulling his length out. "And now I'm gonna fuck you while you writhe in pain and Dolph kills your link to your precious master."
Her husband raised his wand in her face, "Obliviate. You will not remember who came to your room in the depths of night. You will only know you are the cause of the death of your child. You failed to protect it." Her eyes went blurry, distant as her head lolled back on the mattress .
"Crucio," Rabastan repeated. "Now, Dolph. Do it now." He positioned himself at her entrance as his brother raised the blade over her stomach.
He lowered it, savoring the feel of it piercing her flesh.
And then he and his brother were thrown back, dimly aware of the other two hitting the far wall as well.
Her bindings disappeared, she raising in the air before them, spread-eagled and asleep despite the wail that erupted from her mouth. The dark mark burned on their forearms and the cuts on her stomach disappeared, all traces of their visit gone from her body as it lowered slowly back to the mattress, even her clothes back in tact.
Her wand flew into her hand, she rolling to her side and sleeping deeply as both the brothers Lestrange flew forward until their mouths were pressed to her clothed stomach, crying out in pain.
Three voices joined together, dark and terrible, only the voice of their Lord recognizable. "Do not make the mistake of touching her again."
They were thrown backwards again, writhing in pain from an unspoken Cruciatus. And then the blade, still dripping, moved through the air, skirting across Rabastan's throat and cutting it open before embedding itself to the hilt in Rodolphus'.
And still Bellatrix slept, comfortable and unaware as her hand idly caressed her stomach; Fenrir and Antonin disapparating in fear with a crack as the Lestranges bled out on the carpet.