Hey. This is my FIFTIETH STORY!
Yeah. I wanted to do something special but I'm so busy...
This is for Music Club, Frog Choir in Hogwarts. A song!fic to Wolf At The Door by Radiohead!
I love the song. Just hope I did it justice.
Wolf At The Door
Bellatrix had, from an early age, showed perverse pleasure in torturing her victims - whether that be bug, human or doll - before she finally let the last blow fall.
Her parents were terrified of her, by the time it was time for Bella to go to Hogwarts. Unlike Andromeda, or even Narcissa, there was no doubt that she would be a pure Slytherin.
There was something wrong in Bellatrix's head, or her mind, and the middle Black girl seemed to be addicted to screams, pain and blood.
So when Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, and set up The Knights Of Walpurgis, Bellatrix thought of the death, the torture and the wonderful pain that she would recieve if she went to meet this Tom Riddle.
The Knights might have laughed in her face, if she had been anything but Bellatrix Black. She had slept with the best of them, and was engaged to Rodolphus Lestrange, whom she detested.
Lord Voldemort looked up in surprise as the tall, wild but beautiful woman stalked into the room, head held high and dress trailing slightly on the floor.
If he could love, he might have pronounced her as lovely. But he had been born in circumstances that denied him this, and, at the most, he only saw Bellatrix Black as someone would kick someone in the teeth with steel capped boots.
"Well." Lord Voldemort, spreading his arms in a shrugging dress. "I don't recognise your face."
"My name is Bellatrix Black." Bellatrix swooped a low curtesy, as she had been bred to. Then she looked up, and surveyed Lord Voldemort's handsome, but dwindling face.
"Ah, yes." His voice was like poison, deadly and smooth. "Black. You are Rodolphus's fiancée, are you not?"
Bellatrix nodded, a little slowly. "I am dreadfully sorry, my Lord," She began, confidently. "But I thought you might have a humble place in your ranks for a Wolf at the door like me."
Lord Voldemort surveyed the pure hope in Bellatrix's face. Beauty, for sure, but also a sense of kindred-ship. They were, and would be, the only ones who appreciated the beauty of death in the room. He could tell that from a single glance.
She was certainly as vicious-looking as a Wolf. So, Lord Voldemort nodded, narrowing his red eyes at Bellatrix Black.
"You will have to earn your place, Miss Black." He said, simply. "Wolves are always... Appreciated."
Bellatrix nodded back, feeling a swelling in her gut.
She would be one of them soon enough.
