"Avada Kedavra!"

Hearing those two simple words, Bellatrix Lestrange felt a sudden rush of elation. He was dead at last; Harry Potter was dead! Relief and excitement surged through her as she realized that at this moment, the Dark Lord had triumphed over Potter and gained control of the wizarding world.

She turned her gaze from the disgusting corpse of Potter back to her beautiful Lord, ready to congratulate him, horrified by what met her eyes.

The Dark Lord was crumpling like a marionette with the strings cut; his scarlet eyes rolling up into the back of his head. His wand – yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches -- fell from his grip as he tumbled to the ground and moved no more.

Her world seemed to blur before her eyes: this couldn't be happening, it was impossible – her Lord was above death, he could not die; death was a disgrace to him! What had happened?!? Figures swirled together into shapeless masses, she fell to her knees; hot tears seeped from her eyes; she felt agony flare inside of her, as if her soulless heart was clawing its way out of her chest; she couldn't breathe; couldn't fight the fear that clogged her throat; couldn't comprehend...

So Bellatrix screamed.

Ringing out in the clearing, it was a keening, agonizing, involuntary cry. It was a noise worse than any the Death Eaters had ever heard. Compared with the screams of Cruciatus victims, the screams of terrified, dying Muggles, even the screams of those receiving the Dementor's Kiss – all of these paled in comparison to the wordless howl issuing from Bellatrix Lestrange.

Moments passed; finally Bellatrix seemed to come back to her senses. As she composed herself, accidental magic crackled and hissed in the air. Fury was etched in every inch of her face as she got to her feet and pulled out her wand.

"Who did this?!" she screeched, turning to face her fellow Death Eaters. "Who harmed the Dark Lord?"

"Bellatrix," Lucius Malfoy muttered. "This is hardly the way to--"

"Silence!" she snapped, her lidded eyes roving across the robed figures, trying to ascertain guilt in any of their features. Seeing none, she questioned them a second time. "I ask again, who harmed the DARK LORD?!?!"

She was tearing at fistfuls of her ebony hair, trying to piece together what had happened; trying to determine who exactly was the traitor in their midst. She needed to know who was unloyal; the Dark Lord would need to know….once he woke up.

Someone was speaking, but the words were indistinguishable, she could only hear fragments of what was being said:

"—He just collapsed--"

"—is it the Order--?"

"—should check Him, what if he's seriously--"

Noting a movement out of the corner of her eye, Bellatrix reacted instantly, and cast a white-hot Cruciatus towards the figure, barely registering that it was Avery, and not some unknown enemy, who was doubling over in pain at the curse.

"Bella, please!" A hand on her arm. A flash of white-blonde hair. But Bellatrix had no eyes for her sister; she was singularly focused on finding the culprit. Suddenly, realization hit Bellatrix like a hex: the half-breed! It must have been, had to have been him.

She threw off Narcissa's hold and swept over to the tree where the oaf was bound. He glared at her out of onyx eyes, but his attempt at intimidation was laughable. This half-giant could not scare her, a Black; a pureblood; servant of the Dark Lord -- his most loyal deputy. Bellatrix met the beast's gaze and surpassed it easily, pointing her wand at his chest as she faced him, filled with rage. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Half-breed, did you hurt the Dark Lord?"

"'Course I didn't!!" he roared in answer, "How could I 'ave? Yeh took my ruddy wand not more'n ten minutes ago!"

Blessedly, gloriously, Bellatrix remembered this. Taking the fool's wand, hidden in that ridiculous, lurid umbrella; snapping the already broken pieces into tiny twigs beneath her feet, leaving him no better than a Squib…..oh, she recalled it all now. The memory of that deed was like a tonic, soothing her impulsive rage, giving her control.

"You are right, oaf," Bellatrix whispered, more to assure herself of the truth than anything else. "We took your wand. You couldn't have hurt him." She paused, fingering her wand as if debating whether to use it, and a second later, yelled, "CRUCIO!"

The giant writhed in pain, his agony increased by the ropes binding him. But Bellatrix was unfazed. She couldn't let him go unpunished. But if he was not the guilty one, something else needed to be done.

Turning back to the Death Eaters, Bellatrix spoke again. "We may not be alone in these woods. If anyoneis out there, I want them found, and brought back here. Do not kill them, do not even hex them. Bind them, and bring them to me."

The Death Eaters exchanged nervous looks at following this order. Although Bellatrix was one of His top lieutenants, they were unwilling to disobey their Lord….even an unconscious one….to satisfy the paranoia of a lunatic.

Their obvious hesitation angered Bellatrix even more. She raised her wand and began to fire curses at point-blank rage – Crucio, Sectumsempra, Reducto – everything but the Killing Curse. Most of these rebounded into the woods, singeing trees or catching fire to small bushes, but a few succeeded in hitting their marks: Avery, Yaxley, and – was it Rowle? – collapsed to the dirt.

Oblivious to this, Bellatrix continued her barrage, possessed by a maniacal fury – why wouldn't they move? Why did they refuse to help Him? Why was no one moving, damn it! The Dark Lord was lying unconscious, vulnerable, perhaps seriously injured, and nobody was taking action!

Bellatrix felt her wand fly out of her hand, jarring her mind back to the present. Lucius Malfoy had Disarmed her – she couldn't even recall how he'd procured a wand -- and was now grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her like a rag doll as he raged.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Bellatrix?! Do you think cursing us all is going to somehow rouse the Dark Lord? Do you actually believe that He will be happy to wake up and discover you've blasted us into oblivion – when He needs a force behind him to finish killing the blood-traitors? How the hell would He react if he saw you like this?"

Bellatrix stiffened at the implication of Malfoy's words. If the Dark Lord saw her in this state…injuring his allies, losing all semblance of control, succumbing to her emotions…..she would deserve to be punished. She would suffer his wrath. It was this, more than anything, which forced her to pull it together.

Pushing Malfoy's hands away, she looked back to the crumpled figure of the Dark Lord. Crossing over to Him, she kneeled down and took his thin wrist in her hands, feeling for a pulse. The faint heartbeat fluttering beneath her fingers shot relief into Bellatrix's entire being; joyfully, she felt those same hot tears surge into her eyes.

"What about Potter? Shouldn't we check him, too?" someone behind her nervously questioned. They were grouped around the Dark Lord, their faces reflecting a curious array of expressions. Bella, ignorant to their stares, simply gave a snort of impatience, replying, "I don't give a fuck about the boy's corpse right now! We'll deal with that later. All that matters now," she turned back to the Dark Lord, "is rousing Him."

"My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, nervously, almost shyly; hoping that simply addressing him would cause him to wake. She closed her eyes, and tried again, putting as much feeling as she could into her words: "My Lord,"

His name was a mantra, a prayer, a plea; a desperate need, an undoing. The sound of it rolled from her lips like a lover's caress:

"My Lord,"

And suddenly He was stirring, his eyes fluttering open….

A./N: I'm not quite sure how I feel about this ficlet yet. So, please read and review -- I could definitely use some feedback!