A/N: Mmm, I've wanted to do one of these for a while.
It's
the honesty of these worlds "
Ruled by magic and mighty swords
That
makes my soul long for the past
Nightwish
- Elvenpath
And how there's no difference
I will find."
( Bellatrix & Voldemort ; oneshot. )
She was broken, twisting in mid-dimension like an unfixable marionette, before falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Bellatrix Lestrange had finally succeeded in killing Nymphadora Tonks, the child of Bellatrix's blood-traiting sister. Smirking, she slipped off before the half-blood, Remus Lupin, could whisper with his final breath such profanity, that it would cause even the silent corpses to stir. Tip-toeing over dead bodies and slipping sneakily past those fighting, she began to make her way out of the riot. A killing curse narrowly missed her, and she darted with the skill of a Quidditch player out of harms way. She had to find him - she had to see if anything had gone wrong...
Although, who was she to judge his power? Of course he would succeed. It would be unspoken to even suggest such a thing, even if some of her fellow Death Eaters did share doubts - but no one would dream of saying them aloud. It was merely unthinkable. Sighing slightly, she held her robes aloft as she trudged towards the shrieking shack, were she knew he would be waiting. Not necessarily for her. For him. She sighed heavily. The Potter boy, who had caused The Dark Lord so much angst for the past sixteen years. But oh, that would all end today, when The Dark Lord reigned and controlled the wizarding world. She couldn't wait.
Slipping under the opening
to the now mobile whomping willow, she tip-toed along the small
corridor which soon lead to a stairway. The only sound audible was
her controlled breathing, and the sound of her faint foot-steps. She
had to be quiet; she knew what The Dark Lord would be doing. She
paused at the doorway, her long hair framing her face, when she heard
a strange, strangled hiss emit slowly a few feet in front of her. It
was Nagini, she noticed, and the snake acknowledged her briefly,
before sliding back to her master across the dust-covered wooden
floor. Nagini whispered something to her master, who turned a
fraction, and acknowledged his faithful Death Eater, with some
resentment. After all, it was partly her fault that the boy had
escaped Malfoy Manor. But the boy wouldn't escape tonight, oh no. His
eyes flashed upon contemplating the person who had caused him so much
grief, but subsided when she approached him.
"I have disposed
of Nymphadora Tonks," she reported in a superior cold tone,
walking over to stand in front of the armchair which he was sitting
upon. He gave a curt nod. "It is a start," he said softly,
"Have you disposed of anybody else?"
"Dolohov
killed the Werewolf before I got chance to, my lord."
"Dissapointing,
Bellatrix. I hope you'll be prooving yourself out there a little
later on."
She bit her lip.
"Bella," he said in
a pleasant, quiet tone of voice, "Is there something troubling
you?" She shook her head at his sudden enquiry, and his eyes
narrowed. "Do not lie to me."
How could she possibly
reveal the truth? She stared at the cracking flames, turning her back
on him. It was only to her suprise when she felt two spider-like
hands pull her backwards, and she found her self sitting upon his
knee. Still she did not meet his eyes.
"Would you like to
play a game, Bella?" he said very softly, his eyes now calm
rather than mad.
"A game?" she questioned in an
indifferent tone of voice, "I don't see how a game will help
defeat the boy, my lord, but I'm open to possibility."
He
laughed quietly. "Ever the honest one, Bella. "This may be
slightly muggle to you," he continued in a silky tone of voice,
his fingers lacing around her hips, "But you swore allegiance
and so you will do as I request."
She did not reply, but gave
the fraction of an obeying nod.
"Truth or dare?"
She
stared at him, and he looked back imploringly.
"Truth," she replied uncertainly, unsure as to where he was going with this.
"You must tell me what is on your mind."
She should of known this was
coming. She glanced distractedly around the room - anywere but his
face - as she thought out her answer carefully. He could, if he
wanted, delve into her mind and drag out each thought, one by one.
Her husband, Rodolphus, was dead, and yet she felt no remorse.
Whatever love she had once had for her husband had dissapeared into
thin air. "Rodolphus is dead," she stated bluntly, "But
I feel no pain or trouble for his passing." She forced herself
to look into his eyes, which were now filled with rapt attention. "I
... my allegiance has always lain with you, My Lord. But mere
allegiance has slipped past the border of marvelling respect we, your
followers, have for you. What I'm trying to say is ... I love-"
He
placed a finger on her lips. "Do not finish," he said
coldly, "For I wish to hear no more. I do not love, I do not
cherish, I do not seek friendship with anybody.
Surely you should know this, by now. I reward my faithful followers,
but no more."
She remained silent. She had known he would
spout something like this.
He took advantage of her
lack-of-muggle-knowledge to claim the next go. "Truth or
Dare?"
"Dare," she said softly, not looking at
him.
"Kiss me," he said.
She stared at him now, he
noticed with a smirk, and leant closer to him. She brushed her
naturally glossy lips against his and for a moment, nothing else
existed apart from this kiss. He responded a little more than he had
intentionally planned as his tongue slipped into her mouth without
invitation, and she gasped slightly as he retracted his kiss from her
mouth to her neck, were it ended.
"That was your reward,"
he said in a hard-to-define tone. "Now, Bellatrix Lestrange -
go. Severus will be arriving any moment ..."
Looking stunned,
she rose to her feet, and almost ran out of the room, before pausing
at the doorway. She bowed slightly. "My lord?"
"Yes?"
"Thank
you," she whispered, with tear-filled eyes, before turning to
go.
He almost wanted to call her back and continue the embrace, but he knew better. Power was more important than love.
The fight was worst than he could of expected.
As Mrs Weasley hit a suprisingly strong curse at Bellatrix, he realised he should of acted - he should of done something to save her. The last look on Bellatrix's face was that of suprise, and as she collapsed to the floor there was a stunned silence for a moment.
She was gone.
His faithful Death Eater, gone.
He did not love her, not even in times like these.
But he screamed for more reason than one on the last night of what he called life.
A/N: What do you guys think? :) Reviews loved.