Title:
Cold
Author: Miz Thang
Characters/Pairing:
Bellatrix Black-LeStrange
Rating: FRT / PG – 13
Word
Count: 196
Warnings: Future character death implied.
Disclaimer:
I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else
belongs to who it belongs to.
SummaryA
murderer, a true murderer, did not feel anything. For
30hath's prompt of July 2nd – so should a
murderer look, so dead, so grim.
She stands before the Wizengamot, her face set grimly and her eyes cold as ice. She has always been a master at Occlumency, and not even their toughest Legimens found a thought inside her head. Not of the war plans, not of Death Eater identities and locations, not of the people she's tortured, nor of the ones she's murdered in cold blood. And never, ever, will she betray the location of her Lord. She'd rather die first.
And she will. She is sentenced to Avada Kedavra at midnight, two day's time. But she doesn't blink, doesn't cry out, and doesn't care. The Minister could have just stated that the sky is blue with the dead look on her face.
But Bellatrix had learned a long time ago from her Lord. A murderer, a true murderer, did not feel anything. No fear, no joy – nothing but hate and the desire to do damage. And Bellatrix had an abundance of both, and abundance of both and no fear of death.
He would be proud of her then, she surmised. Proud of her diligence, of her coldness, in her perfection. Cold a murderer should be, and cold she was.