This is a small drabble from Bellas point of view. I might continue it, by writing other short drabbles from other Death Eater's pov., but I don't know yet.

I first wrote it in romanian and I hope the translation is acceptable, I have been translating all morning untill noon and being tired I am afraid I made some mistakes.

I will ask you to not be offended by the inevitable trashing of other characters, but you must keep in mind that this is Bella and she is not exactly the most likeable of people.

If you read it pleease leave a review. My muses feed themselves on them and lately they have been positively starving. have mercy on them...

Anyway let us not keep our lovely lady waiting and see what she has to say!

Thanks again for reading and enjoy if you can!

*Disclaimer: Yeah, right, JK Rowling got bored of resting on her laurels and started writing fan fiction...

I know

Bellatrix Lestrange (Black)

My name is Bellatrix Lestrange. Or Bella, how some call me. Insane, Round the Bend, Demented, Fanatical Bella. Yes, fanatical amuses me most of all. They think this term is best suited for me. They think they know me. Those people that hated, execrated, loathed and imprisoned me, in the end feared me. I was the bête noire and I'm proud of it.

Hate originates from fear and fear is my greatest vice. I adore the fear in their eyes. If not for fear I could never feel victorious. If not for fear there would be neither determination nor fanatism in me. It's hilarious really, how such a simple and little thing can be my sole trigger.

I do not deny the fact that, until the end, I craved for much more than just the exhilarant sensation of inflicting pain and terror. Yes, He convinced me. I did everything for him. In his name I mutilated, tortured, killed. He knew why. Yes, he has always been aware of my initial motives. Some of those inclined to absurd romantic ideals, might say that he could not understand even if he did know. But I know him. No one knows him better than I do.

In theory, he was aware of what was happening to me but there are, at times, such powerful yearnings in a man's soul that can blind people. There are things that one craves so much that everything else vanishes from consciousness, mind and soul. It's that certain thing that gives you life, that nourishes you every day. Motivation? I don't think that such a prosaic word can do justice to the real meaning. The reason for living, maybe? Again, another unsuitable joining of words, insipid, melodramatic. I think it can be better reduced to what is essentially you, what you become. When given the chance to act for your beliefs, to be able to build the ideal that so many generations lived to achieve while surrounded by a handful of people that crave for the exact same things, there is no turning back, there is no doubt. When He came to see that he can, that he will do something to change his destiny, that flame in him was first ignited, and everything else was gone. Yes, I know. I do not doubt, I know him better than all.

In moments like these there is only one way, forward. There is only power and those to weak to seek it. This is my creed and has always been. I still don't understand why some didn't agree, because, in the end, those silly kids with their crazy old coot wanted the same thing.

No, no, no one fools me, I see further and deeper in a man's soul than they will ever imagine. I know very well what men want, I can feel them, smell their weaknesses and hidden desires. Why, you might ask? Because weakness smells. Ideals reek like dead animals. There is no single man on this earth that can perfectly conceal his true aspirations. People burrow, snake between their duties and their so called „Because I must" with such determination that they betray themselves. When an ideal eats you up inside and haunts you in your sleep you become it's slave and that's when your mask falls.

Don't you dare tell me those insolent brats don't want power! Don't tell me Potter does not enjoy his celebrity! I don't want to hear that he does not suffer of the hero's syndrome. For appreciation anyone would do anything, they would sacrifice their lives on the altar of adulation, anything to be remembered. Because we fear death. Because to be remembered is immortality.

I know.

I know human nature. Unfortunately no one believed that. Unfortunately people thought they knew me. How wrong they were. It's simple to reduce everything you do not understand to insanity, abnormality. It saves you a great deal of time and brain cells.

Why is she so convinced by everything he says? Because she is insane!

Why doesn't she stop for a second and think for herself? Because she is a raving lunatic!

Why does she still believe in him after all those years spent in Azkaban? Because she is a fanatical wench!

That is how people spoke of me. And I'm not only referring to the opposition, they don't tire themselves with stereotypes regarding me anymore. I'm talking about my dear associates and colleagues.

There came a time when I started to realise they were talking about me behind my back. They were hiding behind their perfect impassive, unmoved expressions, talking, judging, and giving their useless opinions on my mental health. They would whisper in secret to one another, trashing and flaying me to my very bone, in the end to reach the same conclusion, deluded, wacko. They were all doing it, without exception. Even my dear husband. Even my lovely sister. He was the only one than never did this. He never judged me, only He understood me. Because I am Him and He is me. We are one and the same.

You might laugh at Bella's naïveté and say that he simply never paid enough attention to my torments to know. I DO NOT CARE! Even if it is so it does not matter. All that matters is the outcome and not the reasons. If he accepted me for who I am, nothing else matters.

I know.

I know the human nature better than anyone. I was the first to smell the treachery in Severus. I am not a Legilimens but I felt it. Every time when he looked the other way when the Master spoke to him, every time when he was uttering his thousand meaning answers. When he would disappear from meetings or when he didn't come altogether, reasoning that he was fulfilling his spy duties. I could see in his stoned and perfectly controlled expression his revulsion for the Master, for the Cause. Neither wince nor startle could betray his horror when casting a Cruciatus, but I could see it. There was something in him, in his very aura that betrayed his true self. And he knew that I was the only one that truly knew him. And he was taking great pleasure in seeing my accusations overlooked. He would sneer and laugh at me because he had the luxury to do so, because he was aware of how valuable he was in our war. He was arrogant and conceited because he was aware of my inability to push him of from his pedestal. He would look down at me, lifting his big nose in the air. „Yes, yes, yes Bella, of course everyone would believe you, esspecially now after that unfortunate failure at the Ministry","Of course, of course, it is truly admirable your resilience after spending such a long time in prison for the Dark Lord". Impertinent, hidden, filthy half-blood...That's what he was, a disgusting excuse for a man!

And I always knew, and until the last moment I warned Him but he didn't believe me. Every second I waited for the slimy bastard to come out from behind Dumbledore's skirts and make the final move. But he didn't. He stood and waited until the very last moment with such patience that I was almost fooled again.

After he killed the old fool I thought I was wrong. I thought that, for the very first time in my life I was outsmarted. But there still was something that eluded me. There was a small voice in the back of my head that nagged me. I was never completely convinced of his loyalty.

That's how I've always been. I have always known. I have known everything about everyone. I knew that my dear nephew was a coward just like his daddy. I knew that he didn't have it in him to kill the old coot and that he will run scared to his mummy and daddy.

My sister has always been gullible and never understood what we were doing, our ideals. She has always been the perfect mother and wife; this is what she knew best. I always hoped I was wrong about her. I wanted to believe that she didn't lost her faith.

I stopped trusting my brother-in-law after the first fall of the Dark Lord when he cowardly ran away, claiming he did everything under Imperius. But with Cissa it was different; I still had hopes for her...

The night she threatened me with her wand, on Spinner's End, before tying that slimy bastard to her with that stupid Unbreakable Vow, I started having suspicions. I didn't want to believe it's true, but I never saw her so determined and it was the first time she pointed her wand at me. She had a manic twinkle in her eyes and for a moment I thought she will curse me. That night I saw myself in her eyes. I saw the same powerful drive the same ambition. The difference is that her ambition was unlike mine, her ambition was directed at her family.

I never could and never will understand her, but until the very end I hoped she will follow the right path and not stray. But she did.

She was the only one that fooled me, I never knew what was in her mind and I let myself be blinded by the trust I had for her. I didn't know Potter was alive when she checked his pulse. No one knew until he stood up and pointed his wand at our master. Then it was too late and Cissa ran away calling for Draco. I would have killed her just then, without remorse. I would have destroyed them all, her, her husband and even Draco. Because he was the cause to it all. If there was no Draco, Cissa wouldn't have had a reason to betray us, to kill our Master. Until the end I hold her responsible for the Dark Lord's death. She killed him by betraying him, indirectly it's her fault. Them, their family, the family my sister joined, they did nothing good for our cause. I still wonder why that surprises me, they have always went with the flow. Inconsistent, false, selfish, slippery…

In that very last moment of my life, before the blood-traitor Weasley pointed her wand at me, I threw a last glance at my sister. She was hidden with Draco and Lucius in far corner of the Hall weeping and clutching her son in her arms. Like a last confirmation of our blood tie she felt my stare on her and looked into my eyes. In that last glance we shared I concentrated all my fury and hate towards her, her family and their deeds. I saw terror, despair, confusion but also Hope in her eyes. But regret or understanding were missing.

She didn't understand. Not even in that last moment she didn't understood her sister.

No one understands. Only I know.

Nothing makes me happier than to know that I never betrayed Him, that I stood by Him until the last moment. Me and Him one and the same.

Nothing makes me happier than to know that, in the end I, I, I was right!

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