DRABBLE: Self-Aware (Bellatrix/Voldemort)

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Title: Self-Aware
Pairing: Bellatrix/Voldemort
Prompt: Meanwhile
Rating: R
Word Count: 464
Summary: The Dark Lord tests how aware Bellatrix is of her weakness
Link to Prompt Table: http://gamma-x-orionis.livejournal.com/9118.html

“Wait for me,” the Dark Lord had said to Bellatrix after the night’s meeting.  He had looked pointedly at the door to his bedroom, and Bellatrix’s heart had swelled with excitement.  She had wasted no time in rushing to his chambers, then, intending to surprise and please him when he came in, stripping off her clothing and stretching enticingly on the bed.

But she lay in bed and waited eagerly, and he did not come back to the room.

As hours ticked by and Bellatrix lay alone, she started to panic – what if something has happened to him?  But she knew nothing had.  He was simply not there.  He had told her to go to his chambers and then left her hanging.  The Dark Lord doesn’t care about me.

At first, she managed to dismiss it – something had come up and he was being slowed down, perhaps – but being left alone in his chambers brought back the memories of how he behaved before – how he shunned her and scorned her and did not love her.

Tears leaked from Bellatrix’s eyes, and she hastily wiped them away with the backs of her hands.  She curled up, resigned to the idea that he would not come to bed, but unwilling to leave.  Her arms wrapped around a pillow, pulling it to her chest the way a child might clutch a stuffed animal, and tried to imagine it to be the Dark Lord.

Even in her state of misery and sleep deprivation, it did not work in the slightest, and she had not expected it to.  The pillow was soft and warm where her Lord was strong and his skin cool.  But it was the best Bellatrix had, and she buried her face in it, crying over his absence.

With her face pressed into the soft fabric, sick with frustration, Bellatrix reached down and put her hand between her legs, teasing herself gently.  She pushed two fingers inside, and she closed her eyes and tried her best to imagine it was the Dark Lord touching her like this.

Pathetic.  You’re pathetic.

How could she blame the Dark Lord for not wanting her?  What man as powerful as the Dark Lord would ever want a weak little girl like her?  She would not have wanted herself, if she were him, she thought, even as she increased the pace of her hand.  Look at yourself, lying in a man’s bed, pillow over your face, hands in between your legs – you look like a child!

Bellatrix sobbed into the pillow as she tightened and arched against her fingers.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Manor, the Dark Lord sat in his study, knowing what she was feeling and glad at least that Bellatrix was aware of her own weakness.