Series of thoughts about Bellatrix knowing she's insane.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Taste

I always have the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I know it's rarely ever my blood.

I also know it's the taste of the blood that I have caused to spill over the years, serving my master.

I don't regret it. The taste of it, it keeps me going when nothing else is there to encourage me.

Sweetness, bitterness, warmth and coldness. The salt from it. If I concentrate hard enough, I can even name whose blood is whose. As soon as I make someone bleed, a stronger taste hits my mouth. It wares off after a bit, but luckily, soon after I get to taste more. At first I would wash my mouth with water from taps and water from my wand. But I got used to it.

Now I crave it.

Hell, this is me I'm talking about. There's only one persons blood I wouldn't even try to get. My master's.

I crave the taste of blood from my enemies, and from those who are on my side.

I crave it. There's a word for someone like that.

Insane.

Touch

Sometimes, I can feel my master's cold touch on my skin. I feel it when I'm about to explode with anger. It's like he's sending comfort, or a warning.

Sometimes I feel like everything I touch is sending sparks when I'm angry. Sometimes they do.

Sometimes I feel electricity flowing from my finger tips. Occasionally, when I make body contact with someone, they get such strong static shocks that they yelp.

That always feels good.

It's not normal for people to have that happen to them. Any of those things.

There's a word for people that happens to or causes to happen.

Mental.

Sight

When I've looked at something without looking away for a certain time, I see spots. They aren't actual spots, though. They've got the faces of people. Death Eaters. My Master's face appears the most. He mouths something to me, but I've never been able to tell what he says.

It never helps me please him, though.

Insanity makes me fail him.

Hearing

I hear voices in my head; I can't sleep because of them. My Lord has commented on it. He says I need to sleep, because otherwise I can't work as well as usual. Rodolphus asked if he should sleep somewhere else so I'm comfier. It didn't help.

I heard them in Azkaban at first. His voice. My master's voice. The voices teased me, the ones that weren't his.

I think one of the only reasons I survived was because of his voice.

I hear something no one else does when he speaks. The humanity in it. I think he knows about it, I don't even know if he minds. He's never said anything about it. That's probably a good sign.

But still.

I'm crazy.

Smell

I can smell the blood, the same taste of blood in my mouth, I can smell things from memories as a child, and I can always, always smell cauldron cakes from the Hogwarts Express.

I don't know why, maybe it's because I was almost sane then. But I've been mad ever since I was born. My first act of magic sent my cousin to St Mungo's. I wasn't even in control then but I still did it.

That's when they told my parents. They told them that their eldest daughter was always going to be deranged.