I met her only once. Bellatrix Black. I longed to meet her again. There was no denying she was beautiful. She walked into the room and it lit up like never before. She had long flowing hair, as black as her name. Plump lips which spread into a heart stopping smile. A perfect hourglass figure every woman envied. High dainty cheekbones which defined her models face. Hands so soft and feminine, they were like babies skin.
But her eyes. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. Her soul was like her -stunning. I couldn't help but ignore everything else about her and stare into those clear emerald eyes.
Time passes and I heard evil whisperings about her. She was not Bellatrix Lestrange anymore. She had joined him. She was practised in the darkest of magic. People feared her. But I? I did not believe their talk. I had looked into those eyes.
I have met her only once. Bellatrix Lestrange. I pray that I never meet her again. There is no denying she is mad. She walks into a room and it falls silent. Turns cold. She has untamed, wild hair. Deathly black with a grey streak running through. Plump lips which are twisted into a demonical pout. Her figure is emphasized by tight corsets and clinging materials which every woman frowns at. High, hollowed cheekbones draw attention to her sunken face. Hands so course and rough that they are like those of a beaten old man.
But her eyes. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. Her soul is like her - deranged. I couldn't help but ignore everything else about her and stare into those cold, dead eyes.
I no longer deny their whisperings. I know she is his most faithful. I know she is practised in the darkest of magic. I fear her. I have looked into those eyes.