But I Wanted a Sandwich
It was a stormy day. The weather suited the inhabitants of Lestrange manner perfectly. There was nothing Bellatrix loved more than a stormy day. The Dark Lord obviously had other things on his mind.
"Bellatrix! Get your ass in here!" He screamed down the hall. She came rushing in to see what was wrong.
"Yes my Lord?" She said breathlessly.
"I'm hungry." He said. He stared at her like he expected her to do something.
"And?"
"Make me a sandwich woman!" He demanded. She raised one eyebrow and glowered at him, as if to say 'Are you kidding me?'
"I'm going out." She said with no regards to his previous statement.
"Whatevs. But for the love of Purebloods will you at least bring me back something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure. Goodbye love!"
She went into her wardrobe and chose her thickest cloak. She grabbed her purse of muggle money and went down the steps of the house.
Bellatrix put her hood down so she could feel the rain on her face and gaze at the clouds. The wind stirred and moved through her tangled mess of hair, not messing it up the slightest bit. She loved the sound her boots made on the cobblestone road.
She strolled around, stopping in a few stores to look at the strange gadgets muggles needed. In her head the entire time she was thinking, 'They're all so stupid! Why don't they just use magic?' She then paused to laugh at her own jokes.
It was plain to see that she wasn't dressed the same as everyone else. When bystanders caught a glimpse of her corseted robes, they all gave her strange looks. All of the other women were in fine dresses, not a single hair out of place. Then suddenly this loony prances in with a thick cloak and a rats nest of hair. She was quite a sight.
As she was walking, she gradually got hungry. Her predatorial instincts went into overdrive, her nose straining for the scent of food. When she found a smell, her mouth began to water. She followed her nose over onto Fleet Street, a very dreary boulevard. It suited her style very much. Now, to find the source of that heavenly smell…
She traipsed her way over to a small, unassuming pie shop by the name of Mrs. Lovett's. There was a small stairway outside, leading to a room up top with a barber's pole.
The woman sauntered her way to the door and was greeted by a young boy. She kicked a puddle to soak him.
"Agh! What was that for?" He said while wringing out his shirt.
"Fun." She said as she shrugged her shoulders.
"Rude!" He said. She stuck her tongue out and taunted before entering.
She went over to the counter, where she faced a pale woman with frizzy red hair, almost but not as messy as her own.
"What can I get you love?" She said while wiping off a cleaver. Bella already liked her.
" A pie and cup of gin."
"Alright, be ready in a moment." Said the tired woman. She dashed off into a back room and came out with a pie and mug.
"Here you are deary." She said. Bellatrix, never one for saying 'thank you', simply nodded in return and began eating.
To say the pie was good was an understatement. Holy halfbloods Voldemort… She was thinking.
"God that's good!" She said with a full mouth. Mrs. Lovett smiled and leaned on the counter.
"I must know your secret!"
"Oh, you know… Being careful with your coriander… and um yeah crap like that…" She nervously muttered. Bellatrix knew something was up.
"I think… That you have a dirty little secret. Something you've neglected to tell me." She said menacingly. The pale woman paled even further.
"Erm… S-sorry it's a family secret…" She stuttered. Bellatrix reached into her cloak and brandished her wand.
"What the bloody hell… a stick?" She said, obviously confused.
"You're barking mad! You're just as crazy as Lucy!"
"Who?"
"Nothing." She said quickly.
"Alright dear, I'm going to give you until the count of three to tell me."
"And what do you intend to do with that… thing?" She enquired.
"This is no ordinary twig." Bella answered with the evil sneer her face so frequently wore. She flicked the walnut wand at the bottle of gin, causing it to shatter and spill everywhere. The rolling pin seemed to gain a mind of it's own, for it promptly rolled off the counter and over to Mrs. Lovett's boot.
"Oh." She said.
"C'mon love you can tell me the truth. I won't tell." She appeared to be winning the woman over…
"Well in that case… That barber up there? Yeah, slits peoples throats. Their maimed corpses go down a chute into the bakehouse down there, where I butcher them up and make meat pies." She explained.
"Son of a banshee! That's muggle?" She whisper-screamed. Mrs. Lovett looked, once again, completely baffled.
"What the hell is muggle? How much sewer water have you drunk today love?"
"Sorry, I meant human… HOLY HALFBLOODS VOLDEMORT! Oh, my… erm… 'husband' is gonna love this! I'll take 15 pies to go." She said, winning another level of apprehension from Mrs. Lovett.
There was a shuffle of feet from the room upstairs, and then a frightening pounding of someone coming down the stairs. Bellatrix moved closer to the door when a man with a bloody sleeve and interesting hair burst in the door.
"Mrs. Lovett!" He shouted, mistaking Bella.
"Wait… Wha… You…. Eh?" He stumbled, eyes darting back and forth between Bellatrix and Nellie.
"What the? Nyeh I AM GOING BACK UPSTAIRS NOW AND THINGS BLOODY WELL BETTER BE NORMAL AGAIN WHEN I COME BACK DOWN!" He bellowed whilst fleeing the kitchen like a schoolgirl.
"Hmm… We do look strangely similar, don't we? Have you ever heard of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?" She pondered while eyeing the almost identical woman.
"What's that? A plague quarantine?" She responded. Bellatrix trudged over to the wall, leant forward, and smashed her forehead into it.
"The pies please." She muttered from under a curtain of hair. Nellie approached her a moment later with a bag full of pies, not even bothering to charge her for fear of the twig.
Bellatrix shuffled home in the mud, wiping her boots by the door of her mansion. She headed for the kitchen, grabbed a plate, and placed two pies on it. She carried it down the hallway and over to the Dark Lord, who evidently hadn't done anything since the beginning of her excursion.
"Hagrid's buttcrack, it took you long enough!" He said, scoring another glare from his most loyal Deatheater.
"Look, I'm not a house elf. Here," She thrust the plate at him.
"I got you lunch."
"What the hell is it?" He jeered, poking it with a bony finger.
"Oh, shut it. Just eat it." She demanded. Surprised, he obeyed. After a few bites, some thoughtful chewing, and a final swallow, he spoke.
"Okay, so what is this?"
"Believe it or not, it's a muggle-meat pie."
"Where'd you find it? Knockturn Alley?"
"No, actually they're made by a woman on Fleet Street."
"Do you think she'd make a good Deatheater? I mean, that's pretty damn original, we could use another woman. One that isn't boring, I mean."
"You blithering idiot! She's a muggle! There aren't any witches or wizards on Fleet Street." She ventured to say.
"Oh… Alrighty then, Miss Pissy. It's pretty good, but I already told you. I wanted a sandwich."
"Are you being serious right now? Because I really don't need this right now." She fumed.
"Yeah really. Hey did you get any butterbeer when you were out?" He said.
With that, Bellatrix completely lost it. Her ashen face turned blood red with rage. She crumpled to her knees and fell forward, mashing her face into the floor. And she just knelt there for a few minutes, smashing her face on the hardwood flooring.