WARNING: BLOOD AND GORE SCENE. NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED.

Despite the slightly heeled boots on her feet, Bellatrix was slowly making her way through the now destroyed manor like house without a single noise. She was as stealthy as a cat as she stepped carefully over the shattered crystal glasses and the once beautiful wood works of the house she had not five hours ago destroyed. Her father's hunting lessons had clearly paid off and though she knew she had a lot to learn, her skills had multiplied to levels no one would understand.

Little did she know, she had been followed for some time. Never the less, once she had disapparated, her follower had been forced to wait around for her return. Sirius was extremely confused over what he had seen. He raked his brain, not knowing where he saw that man from but knowing he knew him from somewhere. He sat at the end of the long, winding passage to the shrieking shack, sitting in the shadows in his animagus form, waiting for his cousin's return.

Bellatrix on the other hand, had much more important thing son her mind. She gripped her dagger in her hand tightly and followed it with Rodolphus' dagger in her other hand –she was intent on getting this man. The one who thought he could escape. He would get the worst death of them all. Her breath was calm and quiet, though every time she heard a groan from the manor, her heart began to race faster and faster. She was silent as she moved back against the wall and slid down it quietly, leaning her back to the wall as she watched the reflection of the spilt good drinks on the floor from the liquor cabinet that had been toppled. She watched as the sheer curtains in front of the broken window moved softly to the cool Autumn wind outside, and just as she suspected, her victim approached. The difference between the two was that he had a wand and was more than able to use it. She leant back, almost holding her breath as she watched him move carefully, his feet not caring for the broken glass which crunched under his feet –he was clearly more concerned with protecting and healing himself.

There had been no Dark Mark yet that night, Bellatrix had not marked it in the sky yet as her job was not done. She looked up at the stairs opposite her. Her victim was dragging his leg, she could tell. He walked back into the kitchen and flashes of light appeared. He must have been healing himself. She stood, immediately turning around the corner and throwing her dagger. A piercing scream came from the man as he was caught by surprise. She knew exactly how to throw it so he wouldn't die. He dropped his wand, she had sent the dagger into his stomach, at the perfect angle that wouldn't kill him but would send him into shock for some time.

"Didn't think I'd just leave, did you?" Bellatrix purred as he dropped to the floor. He was panting for breath and whimpering in agony. He was sudden in making a reach for his wand, but her booted foot landed hard on his wrist, pressing in to him so hard and so suddenly she broke his wrist. He screamed again, begging for mercy as she picked up his wand and tucked it into her shirt. She had long discarded her cloak, throwing it back into the Shrieking Shack once Tom had left and immediately disapparating from there.
"Thank you, this will come in handy," She murmured, tilting her head to look at the man on the floor in front of her. She leant down over him, couching besides him as he asked her in a pain filled voice why she was doing this to him and his family, "You call yourself light aurors, I believe? We don't believe in such nonsense. And word has it, you're the only one left."
"There will be others." He just about croaked. Bellatrix smiled a little, sending chills down the man's spine. Her fingers grasped the hilt of the blade, eliciting a pained gasp from him.
"Not with me around. Now. Let me show you what happens when people run away from me when I just want to play." she said almost sweetly as she pulled the dagger out slowly from his body, making him cry out in more pain. She pulled the wand out of her shirt, standing and bringing him with her with a simple levitating spell. He was forced to his feet. He couldn't stand as Bellatrix soon found out as he dropped to the ground once more.
"GET UP!" She shrieked. He jumped, fearful for his life, though he couldn't stand.
"I said," she murmured calmly, directing her wand at him, "get up."

The man was quick in grabbing a discarded kitchen knife. He forced himself up and at the same time, sent the knife straight into her thigh. Bellatrix yelled out as the knife pierced her skin and fell into her flesh, but she remained standing. The man tried to get away, dragging himself towards the back of the kitchen. She half bent over, gritting her teeth as she grabbed the hilt of the blade and pulled hard, breathing heavily between agonised growls of pain.

She cocked an eyebrow as he tried to stand. Dropping the knife herself which was covered in her blood she growled darkly, "I just hate not seeing the look on someone's face when my dagger goes right into their heart. And this is going to feel a hundred times better than that."

She flicked the borrowed wand which she had dropped onto the counter, sending the man with a sickening thud to the wall behind him and holding him up against it. She wouldn't use magic. She loved the feeling of taking a life with her own hands. She managed to move, the agony in her leg not her primary concern as her fingers wrapped tightly around the bloodied dagger, she dropped the wand on the floor once more and walked to the man against the wall. She gripped his hair tightly, tilting her head slightly and licking her lips before she raised the dagger to her lips and tasted the blood off it, almost moaning with delight as she tasted the coppery liquid and let it run across her lips. This was the way she left all of her victims, but she was missing her signature. His arms were outstretched, and therefore that would mean only one thing.

The man struggled as Bellatrix cut his shirt open with her now clean dagger. His chest was broad and not yet bloodied.
"Now..." she started, "Why am I killing you?"
He looked at her and shook his head quickly, not understanding what she meant. She laughed, "come on. Tell me. Blood traitor, no doubt. You're too handsome to be anything less than a pureblood. Shame we didn't meet in different circumstances, seems I have a thing for traitors. Usually fuck them before I kill them. I'm afraid I don't have time for that tonight, and I have the strangest feeling you won't be in the mood for it."
He said nothing, but his breathing was ragged and heavy, and his eyes filled with anger and hatred.
"Let's go with traitor then." She said sweetly, biting her lower lip as her dagger found his chest and began carvng the word 'TRAITOR' into him. he screamed loudly, clearly in agony.
"Oh hush I've not even done the second 'T' yet!" she laughed over his agonising screams. Her hand was suddenly in his hair once more as she knocked his head back hard into the wall, "You're making too much noise. Be quiet and I might even give you a kiss goodnight."
He curled his lip at her, still groaning in pain, to which she dragged the dagger hard into him for the 'O' she was carving. Finishing her 'R', she smiled as she stepped back to look at her fine work.
"Beautiful." She said to herself as she sighed happily.

The man in front of her was half unconscious. Under other circumstances, she would have let him alone there to die in pain, but tonight she had to make it a clean job. She looked down at herself for a moment. Not exactly a clean job, unfortunately. She was sprayed in blood. Her fingers dragged along the open wounds, making him howl in pain and beg her for death, to which she pressed into him to bite his lower lip and drag her tongue along it before she moved back and in one swift movement, drag the dagger hard into the man's throat, killing him almost immediately and spraying herself in more of the crimson liquid.

She dropped back against the counter top in pain, her body drenched in blood, her own and the man she had just killed. She sat back against the counter on the floor, reaching for the wand and using a simple healing spell, stopping the bleeding and healing the wound. It was much deeper than she had thought and would need some real treatment, but she couldn't go to Madam Pomfrey for this –how the hell would she explain she had been stabbed in the leg? She bit the dagger between her teeth, dripping blood onto her chin and her chest as she looked around her to grab a kitchen cloth, which she ripped and tied tightly around her thigh. She was quick to use a scourgifying spell on the knife with her blood on it, and anything else that may have had her blood on it.

Bellatrix was burning up from her kill and the adrenaline rush with creating the Dark Mark in the clear night sky with the man's wand, which she had then broken in half and dropped into a nearby river. Her blood was pumping fast around her body and her heart was racing as she apparated to the Riddle Manor. She allowed herself entry into the drawing room, where Tom was sat. She said nothing until he gestured her over, his chair facing the fire. She walked in front of him, kneeling and looking up at him.
"It is done, my Lord." She said simply, bowing her head.
He tilted her chin up with two long, cold fingers, "Never test my trust in you."
"Never, Master." She said, looking up at him.
"You are after all my best warrior." He said calmly, quietly.
"Thank you, Master." She said, almost breathlessly.

He was beautiful his aura was powerful and strong. The power he exerted and the control he reigned on everyone around him was his calling, and it made Bellatrix never want to look away. He was magnetic and strong, and his charm and charismatic smile when he was out in public magnified more so to the power of his anger and his fury. The white hot anger Bellatrix had seen on his well defined face as he tensed and grit his teeth made her weak, and here, in his calm and his honesty she saw her master, her true master she would follow to the grave if she had to.

He leant over her, looking at her blood covered mouth, and face as if she had danced in a storm of blood rain. His fingers were still on her chin. She watched him carefully, looking at his perfection, his beauty and his rage. She admired him more than she admired anyone. He leant down, running his tongue along her lip just as she had done with her victim, tasting the blood off her lips. He moved back and sat back in his large chair, letting go of her and gesturing that she may leave. She stood and bowed her head, leaving quickly and quietly to the promised quiet of the weekend ahead –or so she hoped.