She tried to recall when it all started and bring it to order. How long had she been there? Hours, days? But her mind was still shuffled from the shakes.
Was he there? Was there anyone? She managed finally to sit against a stone wall as an ache pierced her right lung. Her thirst made it difficult to swallow. Another acute pain came from within, almost like a cold wind, but she had to ignore that.
She opened her eyes and glared deeply into darkness. Where were the wooden chairs? Where was the wine? They had kicked her into the cage again. It was probably hours later from the last visit. But if she put her thoughts in order, what good would it be? As Lestrange never tired of reminding her, no one was coming for her. She was left to rot.
To kindle hope was a risk. It would draw too much attention. These days in hell could only end if she took herself apart from her body. This was the only way to keep her consciousness safe. But what consciousness, what mind, she thought as she heard her own meaningless murmurs, twisting between two languages, no longer in her own voice. Lestrange had successfully reduced her to nothing. The mere idea of his rugged voice, his strange voice that gave orders in a brutal, spit-out language, it threw shivers down her spine.
She would have preferred to die, but on the brink of salvation he would stop, laugh, and watch her shaking. Her crises worsened, and sometimes she could barely recognize reality. It was getting to her faster. She was beginning to obey him. What good could this damned survival instinct be? Humiliation was sinking into her soul, but the filth and hunger were there to keep the drumming going, her heart just wouldn't stop. And if it did? So much for the worse! She had to figure out a way to end the hurt and the pain before they killed her and kept her body as a meat puppet. But these were only guesses, now that she knew almost nothing about what she was. She was doomed.
Never would she have imagined that there were people who could be more cruel than Hollowov.
Bellatrix slowly put one foot before the other as she went down the creaky steps, carefully listening to the whimpering darkness as it suddenly went quiet. Aware she'd drawn attention, Bellatrix carried on with the same calm, sadistic pace, because she knew that, to every sound she made, a bit of panic got stuck into her prey's chest and never got back to surface.
She supposed she could have thought this through. Still she would manage. Instead, that tall, exotic woman chose not to, for the same reason she never let shed a light on her path down the wooden stairs. Her own wandering thoughts led the way, tracing the walls and feeling for the steps. Bellatrix's own heart was swollen with anticipation for the misdeed she saw unwind before her eyes. And there she came, with long pauses.
Her bare feet finally touched the cold stone ground. She was still wearing her night-gown and never put anything on her feet. Her hair was wildly messy - it didn't matter. Sight didn't matter. Other senses mattered. The sounds of the outside world were impossible to be heard, so all that was left was her victim's pounding heart - her favourite music. So Bellatrix lingered over the end of the stairs for a moment.
On the other side of the cellar there was no reaction, other than breathing. And the trembling red eyes, asking her to draw ever closer. Bellatrix instinctively thought of going back as she felt the majestic force of those eyes locked on her. The sound of Bellatrix's sigh made the creature's eyes widen even more. She regained confidence, she was still in control. Though she had no idea of her surroundings, certainty swept the devil's path clear.
Finally, she felt for the cage and touched a small, horizontal lock with her wand. Red darting eyes moved from the opening to Bellatrix as the lock clicked. She crouched before the cage and grinned as she had never grinned before.
They looked at each other and then into each other, darkness gave no other choice - the creature attempted to grasp a calm mind, that Bellatrix almost heard slip; she continued to grin, grabbed the torn cloth it wore and dragged it out of its cage, crawling. It just stood there, waiting, she could feel it. She forced its body onto the floor with her palm on its back. Then she turned its body around on the floor by its shoulders, and pinned it down, only to straddle it proudly.
The creature beneath her seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Bellatrix licked her lips and slowly slid her wand from the being's neck to the chest. It sighed weakly with its eyes closed. As one's breathing shortened, the other one's started to come in and out with long pauses. It was still dark, so she grazed her left hand under its clothes, from the valleys of its stomach to the tip of its nipple. As it let out a surprised cry, she smiled crookedly.
The red darting eyes paired up with a mouth that gaped open, she knew that was her cue. Bellatrix then pointed her wand at it and said "Crucio!".
It moaned beautifully. The cries came, but it still struggled violently to its sides, moving its head back on the floor, with loud, rugged screams between its quick grunts and gasps. The witch almost wished she could see its face contort, its tears streaming, but it was all due in time, it was all part of the plan.
She finally raised her wand and stayed still for a moment, waiting for the thing to sob, to try to breathe again, moving its torso sideways, but after a few seconds she couldn't fight the urge to put her ear against its chest, only to know that the loud, uneven beating heart matched hers. One weak hand tried to move her head, but since it had no strength, it just pressed lightly against Bellatrix's back. Something kicked in, she guessed it was that impossibly beckoning scent, somewhere between bitterness and thirst. So enticing that although its skin felt rough and dirty, Bellatrix insisted upon digging her nose into its neck, inhaling closely as she opened its mouth and tried to feel its fangs.
She heard a cry as she laughed softly. Shame? Bellatrix took it as a hint to grope for the whole body, measuring with her touch all that was in store. Every part of its body submitted: she felt its arms stiffen and then relax; fingers that first appeared to attempt to grab something allowed her to entangle hers; and even though she could nearly grab every rib, its breasts felt nicer than its thighs. Finally, she got up and it just stayed there, paralyzed, eyes closed, as she tried to focus, think for a moment.
It was impressive when its eyes opened again and she practically felt questions being asked, as much as it was teasing to feel those vicious tugs on her throat. This little half-bred toy fit into her needs completely and she even got a kick out of it! Bellatrix fought the urge to laugh hysterically at how brilliant she was to have come. This is it, she thought.
And then she left.
Author's Notes:
Oh, no, not another vampire story!
Sorry. I could swear it came before the vampire frenzy, but then again vampire frenzy always existed.
Previous chapters have also been rererererevised. (yup)
As the first chapter used to say, this is my first story to be published, thanks for reading, not a native English speaker, useful critics are very welcome, etc.
