Not my best. My worse? That's possible.
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah. Fanfiction. Fan. Fiction. Yeah.
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It wasn't because she loved the Dark Lord. It wasn't because she had been fascinated by dark magic, no. It was something else. It could be the joy that run through her every time she had done something pleasing – But it was not. Maybe the look of pure adoration? The look that she rarely got from her mother? No. Because Bellatrix knew she could outdo them all. She knew she would succeed, and they would fail.
So what was it that made her the woman she was now?
"Move it, Black." A raspy voice that had come from behind. Bellatrix slowly inclined her head, dark eyes locked on the cloaked figure.
"Lestrange."
Cold. Hard. Her eyes were.
Warm. Soft. Were they like ice and water?
She took a step back, because that was all she needed to do. As he walked past her, she could only watch.
And as she sat down, that was when the answer came to her. She was here, part of the Death Eaters, not because she was oddly fascinated by Voldemort's power, no, it was because she wanted to be part of his world.
"I hate you." A soft whisper. And then nothing more.
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I fail so much. So, so, so very much. But I really needed to post again. I'm alive. For anyone who still remembers me. D: