The next evening Bellatrix sat at the Slytherin table, waiting for Narcissa to arrive... but she never came. She glared over at the Gryffindor table again, barely conscious that she was doing it when she heard a shout from the end of the table. "Lestrange, which scumbag is it that has you preoccupied this time? Is it the mudblood again?" Bellatrix's eyes narrowed as she flicked her wand and the boy was immediately silenced. She smirked slightly as he clutched at his throat and made panicked grunting noises; his discomfort obvious as Bellatrix's curse forced his tongue to go back on itself. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She picked up her cloak and stormed out of the Great Hall as she wrapped it around herself, fastening it as she stepped out of the castle into the light, summer night.

As she hurriedly made her way through the Forrest, she pulled her cloak around her tightly to try and avoid the snagging of the branches. It was unexplainable to her, but Bellatrix felt that something was not quite right this night. First the gasp she thought she heard the previous night, now Narcissa was absent at dinner... Bellatrix couldn't shake this feeling of unease from her. No sooner had she thought this, she stepped into the familiar clearing to find not Asgard Fleet but...

"Father!" She cried out in shock. "What are you doing here? How did you-" Bellatrix was rendered speechless. "What is going on?" It suddenly dawned on her that Narcissa's absence from dinner had more meaning behind it than she thought.

"Narcissa has informed your mother and I all about your... meetings with this mudblood. You will come with me at once Bellatrix. Now." Her father held out his arm. "I... I will not!" Bellatrix took a step back. Making his way over to her, he grabbed her violently by her hair. In an instant, they Disapparated, only to arrive at Malfoy Manor. Still holding her by her hair, Mr Lestrange pulled her into the Manor. "Let me go!" Shouted Bellatrix, struggling to get out of her fathers grip. "I won't disobey you again, just let me go! He meant nothing, nothing!" Her voice cracked on 'nothing', giving away her desperate lie as they entered the drawing room; Lord Voldemort himself sitting at the head of the table. "Ah... good evening, Lestrange's." Said Lord Voldemort in a deadly whisper. "Bellatrix, if you'd like to take a seat while your father fetches our guest." She was immediately thrown into a nearby chair; fear pumped through her, but she remained calm, composed.

Moments later the door was opened, and in came Mr Lestrange, dragging along behind him the mudblood, bound by thick, dark ropes. "Bella! I-" He was cut off with a sharp kick by Mr Lestrange, a look of uttermost revulsion on his face at the thought of his pureblood daughter being addressed as such by the filth; he awaited The Dark Lord's order. "Dear Bellatrix," the deadly whisper returning. "Perhaps you would like to join your... friend." He wasn't quite able to hide the disgust in his voice. When she made no move, Mr Lestrange made his way over to her, his grip returning to her hair, and threw her to the ground next to the mudblood. She clenched her fists to steady her shaking hands as Voldemort stood behind her.

"Your father has indeed informed me of your secret trysts with this filth. Look at me." He flicked his wand and Bellatrix was forced to tilt her head back as far as she physically could. Her breathing becoming uneasy, she struggled pathetically against the curse, but to no avail. "Do you deny this?" Bellatrix's heart pumped erratically as she closed her eyes, fighting against the tears that threatened to well. "Hm." He replied; keeping the curse upon her, he turned his gaze to the mudblood. "There's something that our dear Bellatrix failed to tell you, Fleet. You were not, in fact, her lover... but a toy. You mean nothing to her." He paused for a moment to examine the effect of his lie. Bellatrix struggled to protest, but found herself unable to speak whereas the mudblood's eyes widened in shock. "No... you're lying!" He shouted at the Dark Lord. "Oh? Well, why don't you ask her yourself?" He removed the curse from Bellatrix and she threw herself forwards, breathing heavily and rubbing her neck.

"Is this true?" Asked Fleet., looking at her with desperation. "Has this all been a trick? A game to you?" Bellatrix found herself unable to look at him; on one hand, for all the men she had associated with, they were all meaningless moments until she met Asgard Fleet. On the other hand, she was surely to be killed if she was to admit the truth, alongside Asgard. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she nodded her head slowly. "No!" Fleet cried out again. "Look at me, Bellatrix. Look at me! I want to hear you say it!" Gathering all the strength she had inside her, she took a deep breath. "I never loved you!" She cried out, her eyes on the floor.

"Your wand, Bellatrix." Whispered Lord Voldemort. Closing her eyes, she held out her wand to Voldemort, a feeling of hopelessness spreading through her. Feeling something else sliding into her hand, she opened her eyes and saw a shining silver dagger. She swallowed hard, looking down at the sharpened blade glinting orange in the firelight. As she did so, Lord Voldemort and her father took a step backwards; she could feel their eyes upon her and she immediately understood what she was to do. Her heart dropped.

Raising the dagger high above her head, she closed her eyes and paused. Her eyebrows knitted together and she breathed heavily, refusing to allow the tears to spill. Memories of their past meetings flashed through her mind; all of the time he had held her, promising her the world, how she would never want for anything, how much he loved her... how much she loved him.

"Do it. Do it now!"Came the cry of Voldemort.

She let out a scream of fury and plunged the blade deep into the mudblood's stomach. Again and again, she thrust the blade into him; her screams mingled with his cries of pain. Every stab felt like another wound in her breaking heart.

Finally all was silent. Bellatrix knelt there, drenched in his blood; she felt numb, emotionless... empty.

"You will not make this mistake again." Whispered Lord Voldemort as him and her father swept from the room, leaving her alone with the remains of her one true love, Asgard Fleet. She rose to her feet; looking down at his bloody corpse, she raised her wand and produced a single red rose... she held it in her hand and took one last look at him, her expression blank. Clenching her fist, she could feel the thorns piercing her flesh and she felt some sense of relief. Throwing the rose upon him, she watched as the petals blackened.

"Never again..." She whispered, and left the room.