Bellatrix Lestrange stared mercilessly into the eyes of her cowering victim; the filthy muggle had the nerve to call out to her from across the street. Disgusting.
And yet she knew that the strength of her Cruciatus Curse wasn't being drawn from her anger at the sobbing filth at her feet.
Tonight she should be attending the "bachelorette party", as muggles would call it, of her dear sister. All Narcissa's friends and family would be there to gloat over her soon-to-be husband, and congratulate her on her marriage of two of the most powerful pureblood families.
Ah, yes, everyone was ecstatic about it.
Everyone except Bellatrix.
With another flick of her wand the man was crying out again, but Bellatrix had blocked out the noise. Her memory had taken her down the track of her last year at Hogwarts.
Narcissa was there, by the fire, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. They were the only two people in the common room and Bellatrix had taken advantage of this. She muttered a spell and Narcissa's book closed suddenly, startling the pretty little blonde as it slid off her lap, to be replaced by Bellatrix.
'You scared me.' She whispered, inhaling loudly as her sister's mouth pressed soft kisses to her neck, trailing up to her jaw, next to her mouth, then back down again.
It was these times Bellatrix missed most about being at Hogwarts. In fact, it was the only thing she missed about being at school. Those stolen moments with Narcissa, where they would embrace and kiss and bring each other to orgasm countless times.
It was those times in which Narcissa would pant, in that adorable way of hers, 'I'm yours, Bella, I'll always be yours.'
"LIES!" Bellatrix screeched, bringing herself back to the present, sending another wave of torture over the muggle man.
Her beautiful, perfect Narcissa was soon going to belong to someone else. Lucius Malfoy, of all people! How Bellatrix despised him. But it wouldn't matter whom the man was, all that mattered was that he was about to steal her sister, her secret lover from her. Soon Narcissa would be owned by someone. And that someone was not her.
"Crucio!" Bellatrix shrieked, at the pitiful muggle. Her rage overtook her. The man was screaming, pleading, begging, calling for help upon deaf ears. No one would hear him in this cold, damp, alley way.
The only ears his screams would grace were the ones belonging to the ferocious woman standing over him. The last sound he heard was her manic cry of, "She's mine! She will always be mine!" Then relief, as green light filled the darkness and death carried him far away from this earth.
He was the first of many to die at Bellatrix's hand tonight.
The only sound Bellatrix wanted to hear was the screams of her victims. Those innocent people who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She wanted them to feel the way she felt. She wanted to rip out their hearts and dance in their blood. She wanted them to beg for her to have mercy, just like her heart begged for Narcissa.
She wanted them to die, as her soul surely would when she watched her sister walk down the aisle.
It was a fine day for the Wizarding World as Narcissa and Lucius stood at the altar. Everyone was overjoyed, and happily oblivious to the news breaking out on every muggle television, radio and newspaper. A mass of bodies were found scattered randomly around London. Police suspected a mass murder, yet there were no visible injuries to any of the bodies.
With a laugh that contained no joy, Bellatrix was reminded of herself. On the outside everyone saw the smiling face of Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa's slightly deranged sister. But no one knew of the unyielding pain in her chest, overwhelming her to the point that it was all she could do to stand up and applause instead of keeling over and laying there until death saved her from this agony.
None of them, except Narcissa. She could always read Bellatrix too well, and now she hated her for it. Hated her for knowing that the single tear that escaped Bellatrix's eyes today was not one of happiness, but of the most horrible pain Bellatrix would ever feel.
End.