I'm your biggest fan,
I'll follow you until you love me.

The sickening screeches of agony were heard throughout the manor. Bellatrix dropped to her knees, she was exhausted from the torture. Five hours so far, but it felt like five days.
"You lost my prophecy, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord growled through grit teeth.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried, tears pouring down her face, she had blood on her lips from how many times he'd hit her and how long he'd tortured her.
His breathing was heavy; she had really pissed him off this time.
"One fucking thing I ask you to do and you can't even fucking do that!" he bellowed, making her flinch beneath him as he stepped closer.
"I'm sorry my Lord, please forgive me... I'm sorry!" she backed away as he moved closer to us but in one step he had leant over her and gripped a handful of her hair.
Her fear, it turned him on so much, unimaginably so.

Promise I'll be kind,
but I won't stop until that boy is mine,

He lifted her, forcing her back to hit the wall, she was slender, slim, easy to pick up. He was strong for an older man. She was still beautiful, she'd cleaned up nicely.
He ignored her, instead, pried her apart and buried himself in to her, only making her whimper and moan. How he got off on her fear, his knife was pressed to her neck.
"Make a sound and you're dead," he growled, she could still see him for the man she fell in love with all those years ago, handsome, dark haired, bright blue eyes but as unyielding and psychopathic as he was now.
She squirmed, had to hold on to his strong arms to be able to keep herself up as he used her. He wasn't looking at her like he used to, there was a point she thought he might be able to love, not any more. Now she really was his object. He told her enough when she was younger. She bit back into the cut on her lip to stop herself from making a noise, only spewing more blood from the wound and forcing it down her neck, which he licked from her neck as he slammed her over and over into the wall.

Baby you'll be famous,
chase you down until you love me

Eventually, she whimpered, unable to help herself. Digging the knife into her throat, she mewled and whimpered, arching against him slightly for a few moments to try and move her head.
His fingers were tight around her thigh, the only thing supporting her against the wall. They tightened and she grit her teeth so hard she thought for a moment they'd break in her mouth as she felt herself draw closer, she knew it wasn't allowed,.
Her body bent backwards, she held her breath from making a single noise as the knife pressed more so into her neck, not by choice but through the sheer force of him.
He was fairly quick to finish himself off; he didn't care for her pleasure at all. He dropped her onto the floor, leaving her dress torn, her panties ripped off and her body sore and used.
"You're lucky I need you, Lestrange, or I'd have killed you." He spat, he only called her by 'Lestrange' when he was furious, not to worry, she knew just how to make it up to him.