Fear was not a word in Bellatrix Lestrange's vocabulary, though that did not mean it wasn't a emotion in her body and mind that she reacted to even after trying with all her being to fight away.

She could be off and torturing muggles or killing blood traitors, feeling absolutely nothing but the thrill of being in control. It was one of the things she had wanted in her life.
Control. Over herself, over her life, her destiny, not be tied down by having to be married to some idiotic man, who at least treated her well, she supposed. But she had no control over what was going to haunt her for the rest of her life.
And it didn't help that the person who had caused her to have a ruined youth was married to her favorite aunt, whom she visited just as often as she did her mother.
Many times Bellatrix had told herself that it wasn't her fault for what he'd done to her, but she just could not believe it. She must have done something truly terrible to deserve his punishment. And she just about got sick to her stomach every time his eyes rested on her, mocking her if she dare meet the dark orbs that were filled with horrors that were dreadful and sickening.
Though what he did to her, was that any better than what she did to innocent muggles (who probably deserved everything that happened to them)? The scum that every pureblood was raised to hate. She wouldn't be able to give a correct answer.
Because there was none.
Was Bellatrix guilty for her actions? Yes, but she had grown so used to the feeling that it no longer took up much of her attention anymore. She knew that she, in a way, was becoming like him.
Maybe not quite like him in actions, but just enough so that she was beginning to see it. It brought a twisted smile to her lips every time it came to mind.
And today was one of those days. She had gone to visit Aunt Walburga, thinking about what she had done the night before for only a moment after thanking Regulus for having let her inside.
"Hello, Dear Little Regulus," she greeted him, the twisted smile turning more into a sickly sweet one.
"Hello, Bella," he responded to her with an awkward smile, he was unused to Bellatrix's smiles. They were unnerving to him, after all the years he'd experienced them, too.
She could just about smell how nervous the younger boy was, it pleased her that she could do that to people. "How is Auntie doing?" She spoke with what people called her childlike voice.
"Mother's doing well, she is waiting for you in the sitting room," he'd only seen his mother minutes earlier before having gone to see what Sirius was up to in his room. The eldest Black son had his door locked and was avoiding all the family as much as possible, while smoking as Regulus had caught a whiff of the cigarette.
"Mmm, good," Bellatrix's attention was turned toward the stairs, or rather what was up them that she had a wonderful time bothering every time she was about when they weren't in school. "Tell her I'll be with her in a bit, I want to say hello to Sirius." Her tone changed with the smirk on her lips.
Regulus nodded, waving his hand as he headed in the direction of his mother. He knew there was going to be arguing and it wasn't going to be fun to listen to. More like tiring, if anything.
She rested a hand on the beautiful banister, running her pale hand along it while climbing up the steps to the third floor where the two boys rooms were. Her heeled-boots made soft thudding sound as she walked, the only times she went up to that floor was when she had the craving to annoy the living hell out of Sirius. A pleasure that she rarely ever did but when she did it felt satisfying.
Stopping at the large, wooden door of her beloved cousin's bedroom. Smoothing out her skirt out of habit, she rapped a random pattern onto it. "Oh, cousin, it's Bellatrix," she called mockingly.
"Shit," a voice swore from the inside. Sirius knew that his mental cousin was coming over, he'd been told that she would be by his soft-headed brother who he wanted to smack more often than not. And to be blunt, he wanted to smack everyone he was related to beside Andromeda, as she was the only person he would dare call true family to him.
"Aw, am I not welcome?" She was pouting as she took out her wand, the door was locked and all she needed to do was a simple spell to unlock it. Did Sirius honestly think he would be able to keep her, Bellatrix Lestrange, out of his room by just locking a damn door? He was dumber than she'd first thought him to be.
"No, you're not welcome. I don't let stupid bitches into my room," he shot at her just as she walked into the stupidly decorated (to her) room. The colors of Gryffindor house was on the banners that were hanging in the room, it was Sirius' way of showing his pride without causing too much of a fuss, not that he cared about doing in the first place (he loved to piss off his mother).
The posters on his walls disgusted her. They were of half-naked muggle women on something, she believed they were called motorbikes or along that line.
"You mean that you don't let yourself in here?" She questioned tauntingly, looking at the fifteen year old boy that stood near the opened window, a lit cigarette in hand.
Sirius rolled his stormy grey eyes, taking a inhale from his cigarette and blowing it out angrily. "Can't you just go bother mother or Regulus, I don't want you here."
His words stung faintly, but it wasn't like she hadn't heard words like that before or said with the attitude he'd used.
"I'll visit Auntie later. And I already spoke to Regulus. Now it's my turn to speak with you," Bellatrix did her best innocent face (her lips slightly pouting and her looking up from beneath her lashes).
"'Speak' the madwoman says, what she really means is 'torment the hell out of'," he scoffed, he knew her well enough to know what she meant when she said certain things.
Her shrill laugh filled the room, a dark gleam in her eyes. "Or, I can do that," she had planned it that way from the start but she did so enjoy messing with the poor blood traitor's head.
"Oh, better yet, you can shut your pretty little mouth," he grumbled, taking another deep inhale of smoke.
Those words instantly stopped her, a feeling of sickness resting in the pit of her stomach. She remembered him saying that to her before, to keep her from saying anything about what happened.
How much was Sirius like him? The eight years that separated the two of them kept them from getting to know each other more than the little stupid things they knew. All Bellatrix rightly knew about Sirius was that he was a Gryffindor, a blood traitor, he seemed to piss Aunt Walburga off purposely, and smoked (though she had only learned that in the past hour).
Sirius leaned against the wall beside the window, careful about not being too close to the curtains that hang near it as to not set them on fire, but he had his eyes on his cousin. She was standing close to the door, being eerily too silent for his liking. Never once had he seen her this quiet or calm (her face was perfectly blank as were her eyes).
It was difficult for him to choose what to do, if he should dare try to get her attention or leave her the way she was, but he chose to snap her out of the silence that had come over her.
"Bitch," he said straight to her face with annoyance but she didn't react. Usually that would have gotten him a nice, read hand print across the face.
What was going on with her? Did he even want to know? Well, yeah, he was nosy enough to want to know shit like that about Bellatrix, who wouldn't?
"Bellatrix? Bella?" Sirius gradually and cautiously moved closer to the older, dark witch. "Are you okay? Can you even speak?"
He wouldn't mind too much if she wasn't able to talk anymore, it saved him some headache of listening to her relatively higher than normal pitched voice that could make ears bleed if it screamed.
There was some clothes item on the floor that he tripped over just as he got about a foot or so away from her. Damn it, he needed to get the house elf to pick that up and wash them, because it was his bloody job to do.
"You're so graceful, Black," Bellatrix scoffed with a half-smirk. She had snapped out of the trance like state that she'd been in when he'd tripped, rather loudly.
His head raised up and he made a groaning sound, he was assuming that she had planned that the whole time. It wasn't just something you could put past her. "I hate you."
"I know, and I you," she didn't bother hiding her feelings of hatred toward him. What was the point of that?
He gave a dry laugh, pushing himself up off the hard, dirty floor that could use a good cleaning. "So now that you have told me you hate me, want to leave me alone now?"
She let out a loud, exasperating sigh that was purposely obnoxious whilst putting one of her hands up in false surrender (she would never, ever truly surrender). "Until before I leave the house," she told him with a gleeful sounding voice that she was only using to yank his collar.
He'd cringed at her tone, it was so fake that it was painful to hear. "Oh, thanks. What did you do your hands?" He nodded toward the crescent shaped cuts in her palm. He wasn't concerned about it, he didn't give a damn about her, he just wanted to know what she'd done to possibly throw it out at her the next time an argument ensued.
Bellatrix masked her confusion of being asked that, casting a glance at her hand to see what he was talking about and suppressed a frown when she realized that she had been digging her nails into her skin. So deeply that it had started to bleed and even hurt once she took notice of it.
"It's none of your business, Black," she shot at him as if it was nothing to care about. Which it wasn't, not to her anyways.
Telling him that it was none of his business made him want to know more on why it wasn't, and if she did this before. "I'll warn you that I'm going to bother you about this every time you come up here."
"Just be warned that I know more hexes than you ever will," she cockily told him, turning on her heel and leaving the Gryffindor's room, feeling an emotion inside of her that was unknown to her. But she rid her mind of questions that were in there about it as she headed to the nearest bathroom to wash her hands so her aunt wouldn't take notice of what she'd done.