A/N: Written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass's weekly drabble competition "Round 1 – Hard – Unrequited Love/Crooked"
I do not own Harry Potter.
Her tongue snaked out and coasted over her bottom lip as she gazed across the Great Hall.
Her eyes fell on a younger witch who was bundled in a red and gold scarf, her short, dark hair dripping with melted snow. Her cheeks were brushed red. Delectable.
The older witch felt her heart quicken its pace.
She'd never have you, a voice in her head sneered, not even as a friend!
Sighing, the witch stood and sauntered out of the Hall, her heeled boots clicking on the stone floor. Many pairs of male eyes watched the seventh-year disappear past the double doors, though she barely noticed. She was not interested in them, or any man.
Clutching her books to her chest, she bowed her head and moved swiftly towards the dungeons.
"Oof!" Her books spilled from her grasp, and she found herself sprawled on top of a smaller body.
"I'm so sorry!" The body squeaked.
She adjusted her features into a sneer worthy of her status, but it slid off her face as her eyes met those of the person beneath her.
"Alice…" She breathed.
"Y-yes?" The younger girl squirmed.
It took all her self-control to roll off the girl and stand, brushing imaginary dirt from her long robes.
"Watch where you're going!" She spat.
The girl nodded vigorously and scurried away, leaving the older witch to collect her books and stare after her.
She sighed, and continued her descent to the Slytherin common room.
"Oi, Black!" Someone shouted as she rounded the final corner.
"What do you want, Lestrange?"
"I see the way you look at her," He grinned triumphantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," She turned her nose up and stalked towards the portrait, "Salazar."
"I think you do," the wizard nodded solemnly, "Alice? That pathetic Gryffindor you salivate over?"
She rounded on him, her wand pointed at his nether regions, "One word, Rodolphus," she hissed, "And I swear I will remove this appendage," she jabbed her wand forward slightly, "and place it in a more fitting position. Perhaps between your eyes?"
He swallowed thickly.
She turned and glided to her dorm. Throwing herself on to her bed, she waved her hand and the drapes snapped shut.
She had been in love with the little Gryffindor for almost a year, but her feelings could never be returned. Alice was too good, too pure, and too straight, her mind added. On the other hand, she was not good, definitely not pure, and completely crooked!
She groaned, rubbing her face with her hand. Soon the same hand was snaking down her body, over her breasts, down her stomach, to rest between her thighs. She moaned, remembering how Alice's small body had felt pressed against hers.
Soon, she was coming undone to the image of Alice naked and writhing beneath her.
"Alice!" She whimpered as she came hard onto her hand.
Bellatrix Black then turned over, tears pooling in her eyes, and willed sleep – or death – to overtake her.