Delirious
Bellatrix was never really sane, even before Azkaban messed with her brain cells. When we were younger, she would talk of blood supremacy and those with lesser blood being inferior to us. I used to think that she just did it to impress the adults; to make them think that she wasn't just a child. She'd do anything to be the best Black descendant; she would emphasize even her own sisters' failures, if it meant that she was looked upon as the best. She was like that all through her deranged life, except that when she was older, it wasn't her parents, but her "Lord" that she wanted to show her loyalty to.
I think that's why I was the total opposite. I didn't want to be like her, accusing people of "stealing" magic and torturing them until their brains might as well of been gloop. I didn't want to be like that so desperately that I was put in Gryffindor, and then shunned by my own family for not fitting into their perfect Black family mold. It didn't bother me though, because I wasn't like her.
At one point in my life, long before we were in Azkaban, I met her down a dark alleyway in Knockturn Alley. We fired a few hexes, but in the end some twisted kind of passion stopped up and instead we got down and dirty in the alleyway, with only a few well cast Silencio's to conceal ourselves. After that day, it never happened again, and we never spoke of it; not that we spoke at all.
I didn't regret what happened, or want it to happen again; I supposed it was just her way of messing with me. Maybe some thoughts did enter my mind about what we could be like if she wasn't so evil, but I quickly pushed them away; that was just as impossible as bringing back the dead. I still hated her; nothing could change what she had become and what sides we were fighting on.
As we duelled at the ministry that fateful day, I could only see malice in her eyes. I, also, was only focused on the duel and the protection of Harry. Maybe she had once been my cousin, but not anymore. No one can hate someone as much as I did her and still call them their family, which is maybe why our past encounter had never disgusted me.
When the final spell hit me, and I began to fall into the vastness of the veil, the last thing I saw was a gleam in her dark eyes, which back then I liked to think was regret, but I later considered that that was the gleam of victory…probably.
However, I wasn't really angry towards her when she killed me. No, I was disappointed. Disappointed that I couldn't even pull into my mind the memory of her ever being pure, or kind, or even just young, or carefree. Disappointed that she'd only ever be the mad woman society today knew her as. Disappointed that she'd never be mine. The only thing she'd ever be, truly, was delirious.
