Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling. The italicized lyrics are from the song "Peacemaker," off of Green Day's CD 21st Century Breakdown.

A/N: This story really has nothing to do with the meaning of the song. I just borrowed 3 lines that fit together with the story. This is also a bit different from what I normally write, but the idea took hold and I couldn't get to sleep. I blame it on a week listening to almost nothing but Green Day. I could call this another in a series of fics in which I work on writing different points of view...but I think I'll just leave it as a very evil plot bunny. Thanks for reading.

Serenade

Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of the mirror in her rooms at Malfoy Manor, carefully arranging her hair to fit beneath her black hood. A slight—and slightly insane—smile graced her lips, and under her breath she hummed a jaunty tune. It was a dance reel out of her youth—all those nights spent on the dance floor impressing the high society of the wizarding world had left an imprint on her memory. They'd played this reel the night her marriage had been announced, the same night she had known she would join the Dark Lord herself, instead of simply supporting her husband when he joined the Death Eaters. It was fitting, since she flew tonight on the Dark Lord's command.

Humming a little more loudly, she pulled up her hood. With a wink to her reflection, she adjusted her mask and swept from the room. The effect of all the Death Eater regalia was spoiled by the bounce in her step. Tonight, she would catch Harry Potter. And, failing that, she would, at the very least, destroy her fool of a niece. The girl might have been a half-blood, but anyone with half a brain should have known better than to marry a werewolf. Well, it didn't matter now. Bellatrix would do as the Dark Lord commanded, and prune her family tree.

Death to the girl at the end of the serenade

"Bella," Narcissa Malfoy hissed as her sister came down the stairs. "Be quiet."

Bellatrix's hum broke off mid-phrase. "Why should I?"

"You're leaving for a mission," Narcissa replied in barely more than a whisper. "You shouldn't be this cheerful."

"But, Cissy," Bellatrix protested, her voice much louder than her sister's. "We're going to catch Harry Potter. And we might just take down Lupin and his darling wife."

Narcissa took a slight step back from her sister's predatory grin. "You can't catch all three yourself, Bella," she said faintly. "They're going different directions." Rallying her courage, she added, "Pray, curb your enthusiasm, or you might just get everyone killed."

Bellatrix sniffed derisively. "This from the woman whose husband isn't flying, because the Dark Lord feels he doesn't need his wand anymore. I don't need my baby sister looking out for me. Wish me luck on the wolf hunt."

And with a sneer, Bellatrix walked away, once again humming the swaying reel under her breath.

Very quietly, Narcissa told her sister's retreating back, "Stop humming. I highly doubt anyone—least of all the Dark Lord—will appreciate your serenade."

Death to the lover that you were dreaming of

The Death Eaters Apparated to Little Whinging before taking to the air above Number Four, Privet Drive. Bellatrix hovered just behind her lord and master, breathless, waiting for his signal. At the back of her mind, the eighth-note melody of the reel flew on. She couldn't stop her lips from curving in an exhilarated smile, anticipating the hunt. They were so close, so close to achieving the Dark Lord's greatest desire. Tonight, they would have Potter, most of the core of the Order of the Phoenix (or its remnants), and victory.

Suddenly, a motorcycle roared to life and it, followed by two thestrals and four brooms, flew up—straight into the Death Eaters' waiting arms. The Order scattered in seven directions, and, with a shout, the Death Eaters split up to follow. A crack, a curse, and her master's "Avada Kedavra" reached Bellatrix's ears, but as she whirled on the tail of her niece's broom, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was the chase. In her mind, the dance reel crescendoed to an end.

Death to the ones at the end of the serenade

It was almost a year later that Bellatrix got her wish. Her middle sister's family was destroyed—not only Bellatrix's niece and the werewolf the girl had married, but Bellatrix's Mudblood brother-in-law as well. And the Dark Lord had Harry Potter.

She hardly noticed that she was the last Death Eater fighting. One more curse, just a little to the left, and she would have had Potter's girl—and then Molly Weasley stepped in front of the other girls. Bellatrix laughed, the reel of that long-ago night in her head again. She snarled in surprise, as much at the echo of the dance reel as at Molly Weasley's capable attack. She turned in time to the music, and the other woman followed. Bellatrix was leading; she could sense it. One more phrase here—a curse thrown there—step forward—sweep back—

She laughed. If she'd thought about it, she would have realized it was the same laugh her cousin Sirius had emitted the moment before she had killed him. But she didn't think. All she knew was the thrill of the hunt, of the end of the chase. She had only a moment to realize that Molly Weasley's spell had hit home. In her mind, the dance reel stuttered to an end.

Death to the ones at the end of the serenade