A/N: This idea just kind of came to me out of nowhere and bashed me upside the head, demanding to be written. The end sort of tapers out strangely, but I think the rest of it is pretty good.
I don't actually ship Snape and Bellatrix, but I never pictured Bellatrix as a particularly faithful character. Yes, an affair is mentioned. No, there is no explicit material. Just putting that out there. Anyways, I hope you like this little one-shot from Snape's POV. Reviews and con crit are always appreciated!
Perfidy, Said the Spy
This is wrong. Perfidious, faithless, treacherous. Enter the spy.
The sound of torrential rain rolls through the dark night. In the illumination of the sparse, flickering streetlights, I see heavy raindrops flooding the empty street.
What have I got to lose? I'm putting up every charade in the world at once. I'm the spy, the liar, the master of deception. This would be just another atrocity to add to the list, nothing of consequence. Like giving a murderer two life sentences.
Her high heeled boots click down the cobblestone alleyway. She comes into view, still a hidden figure until she pulls off the hood of her black cloak, revealing a mess of sleek black ringlets hanging over dark eyes. The dark eyes with the constant hint of insanity, some unnamable sadistic abnormality.
She leans in, crashing her lips to mine, slanting possessively. Nothing is gentle with her, nothing is light. This is about power, about control. She doesn't trust me; she's been onto me since day one. She doesn't know the truth of my alliances, but in the business of duplicity, a single string of distrust can unravel everything, send my whole facade crumbling to the ground around my feet. But now that we've roped each other into this odd, push-pull power trip of a relationship, I've obtained some dirt on her. This is not a love affair. This is mutually assured destruction of the most hedonistic variety.
Slender fingers tighten around my wrists. Black cloaks billow and flutter in gusts of misty wind.
She is not Lily, with the cascade of auburn hair and the shining green eyes. She is not kind or loving.
She is a sociopath, incapable of love, of thinking of anyone but herself. A true Slytherin, a self-preserver, serpentine.
This is wrong. She's a married woman. But what did a Slytherin ever care about loyalty? And what right do I have to condemn anyone else's perfidy?