On the Streets of London
Bellatrix runs through the streets, Rodolphus right behind her, both of them laughing, feeling the adrenalin bubbling in their veins. It's moments like these when she realises that she must be the luckiest girl alive.
This isn't just some teenage crush, it's something else entirely. She's not Andromeda, falling for some idiot, then moping when they break up (and they always do), then falling for someone else, and the cycle goes on, over and over. If Andromeda was here, right now, instead of her, Bellatrix is pretty sure that Andromeda's current boyfriend, whatever his name is, would already be sulking in some muggle prison, caught while trying to show off or something equally stupid, leaving Andromeda to wander around muggle London all alone.
But still, even that would be a better fate that what Bellatrix thinks would befall Narcissa. Lucius would probably insist on being ridiculously romantic, and hold Narcissa's hand while they ran, slowing them down and pretty much ensuring they got caught. After all, who the hell holds hands while dodging around corners? Sweet, sure, but stupid. But, Bellatrix thinks, they'd never need to worry about that, because Lucius would never do something like this, deeming it silly and beneath him, because he sees nothing saccharine sweet about being chased.
Good for him, then, because all the romance and sweetness Bellatrix needs is the fact that Rodolphus lets her run ahead of him in narrow alleys, and even then, it's mostly just practicality, because Rodolphus has always been faster at hexing people. Bellatrix is pretty sure that this is love, or at least as close to love as she's ever going to get.
Really though, what is love? Is it the feeling that makes her grin whenever she so much as catches a glimpse of Rodolphus? Is it the thrill she gets from merely being in his presence? Is it the complete understanding that she's never been able to find with anyone else? Is it the shiver that runs down her spine when he touches her, even if it's only brushing past her in the halls? Is it the smouldering burn of his lips against hers, teasing her, challenging her, the searing heat that all but rips her apart when she loses patience and control, and pushes him roughly against the nearest object like an angry animal, still tangled with him in a mess of hair and blood and flesh as they compete in a game neither of them quite understand? Maybe it's all of those put together, or maybe something else entirely.
Bellatrix doesn't know what love is, but she doesn't need to in order to understand that if she was silly like Andromeda, or idealistic like Narcissa, the muggle auror chasing them would have caught them by now. It's a strange sort of euphoria, sprinting as fast as she can with the one that she (maybe) loves beside her.
'Bloody rich kids, think they can get away with anything.' the muggle auror mutters from several feet behind her. It makes her laugh, and Rodolphus is laughing too, because they're both rich beyond what a simple muggle mind can comprehend, and they can get away with anything, and they do, because even by a wizard's standards, they're both pretty fucking powerful. They can afford, in all senses of the word, to sabotage a few muggle nightclubs and provoke the muggle aurors into chasing them. This is the equivalent of a date for them, and Bellatrix thinks it's much better than sitting around drinking tea and complimenting each other like Narcissa and Lucius, or eating dinner in some fancy restaurant and making small talk like Andromeda and all the pricks she sees.
'Left!' Rodolphus tells her, and she obliges, ducking into the side street on her left, and clambering up and over the metal fence, making sure not to cut herself on the barbs. Rodolphus isn't as careful, and gets his hands ripped to shreds, but Bellatrix knows he doesn't care, because it adds to the excitement for him, running through the streets with blood dripping downs his hands. It makes him laugh, watching the muggle aurors gawk at his masochistic bravado.
It's not actually masochism, Bellatrix knows. Rodolphus just thinks the pain is worth bearing because it's funny seeing the muggles wonder just what the hell is wrong with him, and he's right, it is funny, and he's laughing again and so is she, because the silly muggle auror is just standing there, staring at them, probably debating whether he wants to climb the fence or find some other way around. If he's like all the others, though, this'll be the point when he decides they're dangerous not only to society, but to themselves as well, and he'd be wrong, because they never damage themselves unintentionally, so they're only dangerous to everyone else.
She's right, he is like all the others, and the idiot puts on a pair of heavy gloves and clambers up the fence after them. They start running again, because, just like all the others, he's being damn slow about it. Bellatrix knows the muggles are terrified of being hurt, terrified of being damaged, shattered, broken like the pretty porcelain dolls that stood in the shops that were engulfed in a beautiful blaze not five minutes ago.
It was lovely, spectacular. Much better than the candles that light the room in a dreamy haze for Narcissa and Andromeda. They describe love as something that seems to light up the world, and if that's true, then Bellatrix figures that she and Rodolphus must be in love, because their fire burned the sky and combined the light of day with the darkness of night. She can still see it now, the grey that covers the stars, the red glow and the panicked screams of the muggles.
Bellatrix hears the clack of shoes behind her; the muggle auror's done being paranoid about barbs on a fence and he's chasing them again. She shoots a glance at Rodolphus, and he smirks. He knows what she's thinking, and he approves wholeheartedly. He's getting bored already, and so is she. It gets tiresome after a while, it's all the same, just running and running and running, so she turns, wand in hand. The muggle auror doesn't understand, they all think it's just a stick, but they're all wrong. Rodolphus starts laughing, and she does too as she shoots a spell over her shoulder. The spell rams straight into the muggle auror, sending him crashing into a wall while the ground at his feet explodes in a shower of shards of concrete.
'What the fuck?' The muggle auror gets to his feet and pulls out a gun, deciding that Bellatrix is armed with a dangerous weapon. Bellatrix is willing to bet that just like all the others, he hasn't even considered that she might be a witch, because he's an idiot. They're all idiots.
There's a wall ahead, it's a dead end. Bellatrix sneaks a glance at the muggle auror, and sees the hope on his face. He thinks he's got them. Like always, he's wrong.
'Reducto!' Rodolphus shouts, and the wall crumbles at his command, sending bricks flying. Bellatrix ducks. She can hear the muggle auror screaming in shock and horror and fear and a thousand other emotions. He's calling for backup now, she can hear him talking to his little black box which crackles and distorts the voices of the other muggles. He's saying they're both armed, and he's right, they are, but he still has no idea just how outclassed he really is.
Bellatrix dodges quickly through the space where the wall used to be, and she and Rodolphus start sprinting down the street, cutting down the muggles in their way like overgrown trees. The muggle auror is still talking at his box, and Bellatrix can hear the warped voices squawking back. She doesn't really like the black box, and Rodolphus doesn't either, the sounds annoy them both, so she fixes it with a well-aimed spell over her shoulder. The muggle auror starts shrieking again as his silly box explodes in his face.
She hears it very clearly. After all, how could she not? A sharp, loud crack, right behind her. It must be that gun, she thinks. The muggle weapon. So maybe he's not like all the others. The others never did this, but then again, she's never broken their boxes before.
Rodolphus stops, and she halts too. The idiot muggle just started a fight, and she and Rodolphus thoroughly intend to fight back.
Rodolphus has his wand in his pocket, and Bellatrix grins. He wants to put on a show for the silly muggles, scare them a bit more. The muggles see their wands as weapons, the source of the magic, so maybe it's time to show them that magic is something that runs through the blood, something Bellatrix is made of, not just something she uses.
It's a coil of blue fire that springs forth from Rodolphus' hands that makes the muggle crowds start screaming. The muggle auror fires his silly gun again, but whatever comes out of it is engulfed in the cerulean flames.
More spells, more screaming muggles, more gunshots, more danger, more adrenalin, it's not just a burst anymore, it's a constant stream of euphoria, fuelling her, making her dance to a tune no one can hear, but Rodolphus dances the same dance, the dance filled with power, a dark and lovely power, so intense and passionate. The muggle auror's backup arrives, and they all have guns too, but that doesn't matter, because Bellatrix and Rodolphus are whirling blades of demolition.
The muggles haven't landed a hit yet, and already four of them lie upon the ground. Bellatrix doesn't know if they're dead, but right now, she doesn't care. Before tonight, it was all sabotage and running, but this is better. This fight is so much more real, and she feeds herself to it, every last breath, everything she is. She's dedicated her power and her mind to this fight, here and now, as she weaves destruction in her hands.
Bellatrix doesn't take comfort in the fact that Rodolphus is here, fighting back to back with her, she needs no comfort, so instead, she draws strength and determination. It's the very epitome of ecstasy, here, dancing her deadly waltz with Rodolphus at her side, and she at his, both of them complimenting each other in a way beyond words, in a battle that says more than ten thousand words, a thousand pictures, because a picture is worth a thousand words, yet this is worth much more than that, this is something indescribable. It's vicious and raw and ardent, it doesn't leave her weak like love, it strengthens her beyond measure; it doesn't complete her, because she was whole to begin with. It makes her more, makes her bigger, as though she's a thousandfold more powerful than she really is, and it's amazing.
The last muggle in their way falls, and she revels in her first kills. It doesn't disgust her like she thought it would, like they told her it would, it fills her with satisfaction, like a good meal, like a craving she'd never been able to satisfy until now. She knows that she will have to do it again, it's like a drug, whatever it is. It's better than love. Love is weak, but Bellatrix is strong, and she is stronger still with Rodolphus. It isn't love; it's something else, something greater, something... more.
It began as nothing but an innocent friendship, but like rose bud, it bloomed, and with it bloomed sharp thorns to tear apart everyone in their way. This night, Bellatrix reflects, has been the best night of her life.