"So I walk along, I ask no quarter friend.
I walk alone until I see you again."
-Quarter
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Cold days were the best for killing. Bellatrix somehow remembered this, and was able to coordinate correctly. A small group of death eaters was joining her as they began to wander into the streets of London, hiding their preence as they sought out a mark. Bella was impressed with her own calm resolve: it was a job, and therefore she would complete it. Her heart thudded in her chest, blood sounds rushing into her ears, but she was outwardly her usual pale and capable self.
The targets were easily spotted. A muggle couple out for a drink in the final simple chill of Autumn was who she determined to kill. They were drunk and in love, not paying attention. The two slipped into an alley, out of the sights of most residents. And Bellatrix looked in their eyes, seeing the haze, and knew the time had come.
"I'll take care of it," she told the others, voice soft and drifting, letting an aire of crainess float. "Nothing to worry about."
For a moment, Bellatrix reconsidered. She saw a ring on the woman's finger, shining in the light, and wondered if she should let the two be alone. Then she remembered that her entire life depended on slaughter, and with a quick silent apology she let the green fly from her wand into the young couple. They didn't even feel it coming. Bella as proud of her ability to keep it quick and painless for the moment...
"I thought you liked to play with your prey, Bellatrix."
Bella turned, smiling though none could see it. "Just getting back into the habit," she tried to assure.
Because screams haunted her nightmares now. Frank and Alice Longbottom, writhing in pain, trying with all their hearts to save their son. But Bellatrix let those thoughts flutter out of her mind. That was inthe past, done. No more to worry about.
Curling up for bed that night, the image would not leave her. Casting a silencing charm, Bellatrix wept for her victims as she never believed possible. yet even that was selfish, for she did not fear for them, nor for her soul; her only thought was what must happen when the Order got their hands on her.
Who would do it, she wondered. Dumbledore? Potter? Perhaps Molly Weasley, or even her niece. Then the thought hit her, causing more sobbing: would Sirius be the one to bring her down?
"I expect no mercy," she whispered. And if Sirius indeed was the one to cause her demise,s he only hoped it was quick- and that he could see in her eyes that she still cared for him.
