A/N – a decent length chapter again! I really enjoyed writing this one from the part where Harry goes into the garden. Hope you all enjoy reading it. As always, love to all my reviewers. I can't tell you how happy your comments make me.

Disclaimer – Harry Potter not mine.

The moonlit garden

A knock at the door made Bellatrix glance up. She lay on her side, on her bed, reading a book. She missed Rudolphus more than she cared to admit, and for a second her heart leapt, but then dropped. Of course it wouldn't be him.

"Enter," she snapped irritably. A small House Elf bowed its way in and she curled her lip. "Yes?" The Elf's nose touched its feet.

"Forgive me, mistress. You have a visitor." Bellatrix turned her attention back to the book.

"Send them away. I'm not interested." The Elf trembled.

"Your sister insisted she'd stay until you saw her," it whimpered. Bellatrix sighed and rolled her head on her neck.

"Oh all right. Send her in. No, wait." She yawned. "Show her in here in ten minutes. And send me Dilly." The Elf made an obeisance and scuttled away. Within a minute the Elf Dilly trotted into the room.

"Radiant mistress. You sent for me?" Bellatrix fought a yawn and ceded the battle.

"Yes, come and brush my hair." She lay on her belly, idly playing with her fingers as the Elf seized the brush on the bedside table and leapt nimbly onto the bed. The creature knelt beside Bellatrix and took the mane of her dark hair in its nimble fingers. The regular brush strokes soothed Bellatrix, and she leaned into them like a cat having its ears rubbed. Why was Narcissa here? Well, she'd find out soon enough.

The Elf dipped the required knee and left a few minutes before Narcissa's arrival. Bellatrix used the time to plump the cushions and sit up in them. She didn't look too bad, she hoped. After all, it was only (she sniffed herself) two days since the storm, the last time she'd come into contact with water. Soap had been nearly a week ago. A gentle knock at the door heralded her sister, and a second later the familiar slim figure sallied into the room. Narcissa looked anxious, and her face fell when she saw Bellatrix.

"Sister! You look so ill!" She ran to the bed and sat down on it beside Bellatrix, her large grey eyes troubled. Bellatrix laughed shortly.

"It is nothing, Cissy. Stress perhaps."

"Yes." Narcissa blushed. "The Dark Lord told me what happened with Harry." Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. She highly doubted he had told the truth.

"And where is my dear son?" she enquired archly. Narcissa had the decency to look away.

"He's staying with us now. Since the Dark Lord said you, you…"

"That I am not a fit mother," Bellatrix finished with a bitter smile. "And tell me, Cissy, when may I see my son?" The blonde woman fiddled with her hair.

"He said you aren't to see Harry yet." Just as Bellatrix had suspected. Narcissa leant forwards and took her hand. "Bella, what happened? Harry won't tell me and the Dark Lord was vague. Is it true? You attacked Harry?"

"It's true all right," Bellatrix said grimly. The grip on her hand tightened.

"Why?" Narcissa whispered. "Why would you do that, Bella?" She jumped when her sister leant forward and pressed her lips next to her ear.

"Sorry Cissy," she hissed. "But I don't think you're ready to know." Narcissa leapt back like a scalded cat.

"He's been very good," she said defensively. "Done everything I told him to."

"Did you give him an owl?" Bellatrix asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Yes."

"Does Draco hate him?" Narcissa flinched and Bellatrix's tone grew steely. "The truth, Cissy."

"Yes."

"Does he give you a feeling that he's just slightly wrong?" Her sister laughed nervously.

"Bella…"

"Does he?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Ah, but does he?"

"No!" Narcissa snapped. "The person who's acting wrongly is you! Bellatrix I can hardly recognise you!" Bellatrix turned her eyes to Narcissa and the blonde women gasped at the depth of pain in their blue.

"What is my name, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked, pleadingly. Narcissa took her hand away from her sister's.

"Your name is Bellatrix Selina Black." The darkness in her sister's gaze was visibly unnerving her. Bellatrix Lestrange sighed deeply at the reply.

"In that case, Cissy, we have nothing else to say to each other."

The owl came several hours after Narcissa had left. A personal letter from Lord Voldemort. Once Bellatrix would have clutched it like a lovesick schoolgirl. Now she opened it warily, and read it swiftly. It was advance warning for a meeting that evening. She was expected to attend. No excuses.

And Potter would be there.

The cool night air nipped at Bellatrix as she walked up the front drive of Dolohov's house. It tried to be a mansion. It failed to be a mansion. It felt odd, to be clean again. The bath water had been significantly blacker after she'd left it, and her hair had been scented with violet water. She wore, as she always did, the black dress and boots. Emblazoned on her left wrist, the Dark Mark burned brilliantly. It hurt more than usual. Or maybe she enjoyed the pain more in the past? She raised it to her mouth and ran her tongue over it, savouring the taste of darkness. On the outside at least she was the same old Bellatrix Lestrange.

Or Black. Whichever they were expecting.

Harry would be there.

How she hated him! How she loved him! Bellatrix Lestrange swore under her breath. She would find a way to tear this cursed aberration out of her soul even if it killed her. And an idea was beginning to blossom. Bellatrix Black was tied to Harry Potter, as his guard, as his mother. No Potter, no problem. A nice neat solution that would afford great pleasure to Bellatrix Lestrange and hopefully destroy Lady Black for good. Bellatrix opened her nostrils to the beautiful earthy smell of the evening air appreciatively. More rain was coming. She couldn't wait to begin her life anew.

She had been one of the last to arrive that evening, and took a seat further away from the Dark lord than she had ever been before. He sat with his back to the empty fireplace, a pair of candles burning either side of him, balanced on tall, intricate silver candlesticks. The great snake Nagini was wound around his narrow shoulders, her head resting on his thin chest as if asleep. Bellatrix curled her lip at the showy frippery of the wallpaper and ceiling decorations in the room. Not enough money or taste, and a complete denial of the fact; that was Dolohov's problem. Several of the other Deatheaters gave her odd appraising looks as she settled down. She met each gaze steadily. Rudolphus didn't even glance her way, and she was startled by how much that hurt.

Bellatrix Black's heart gave a leap. She had spotted Harry, seated next to Draco Malfoy down at the Dark Lord's end of the table. He looked slightly pale, but composed, his face closed to watchers. Malfoy smirked and her heart broke to see the contrast between the glowing blond boy and the quiet dark-haired boy beside him. Feeling pity for him now are we? Bellatrix Lestrange sneered at herself. With an effort she was able to quash any feelings of pity for the half-blood demon and focus a pure burning hatred on him. It was his fault. Somehow he had engineered it all. Her Lord's deceit. Her fall from grace. Voldemort twitched, as if aware of the blaze of loathing. Maybe he was. She didn't care.

Eventually the Dark Lord leaned forward and addressed them. He had called them together to discuss plans to infiltrate the Ministry, he said. He'd be willing to here any ideas. A few tentative schemes were offered. The Dark Lord listened impassively, his head tipped to one side. He never interrupted. Bellatrix barely heard a word of what was said. Her entire attention was taken up by two figures: Rudolphus, who remained silent and stared carefully at the loathsome wallpaper, and the dark-haired boy with the scar who was at the same time the whole world and the end of it to her. Harry fought not to look at her for a long time, but eventually gave into temptation. When he did meet her gaze she held it, and eventually he was forced to break off. Whatever he had been searching for in her face; compassion, remorse, love; he hadn't found it.

Bellatrix jerked her head up with a start as chairs scraped back. An hour has passed, more, and the meeting was over. She hadn't heard a word, hadn't spoken once, but the Dark Lord was smiling and the other Deatheaters looked pleased with themselves. She forced a similar expression of glee and then Draco laughed sneeringly, breaking the quiet. As she watched he repeated what he'd said just loudly enough for those near him to hear; Harry paled and his jaw jutted; she knew he was grinding his teeth in fury. He gave Draco a look of pure contempt, a look which Draco met openly, boldly, daring him to push it. Harry broke the deadlock first, turning to the Dark Lord and executing a small bow.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I would like some air."

"Walk in the garden," the Dark Lord replied disinterestedly, his attention on the snake which was whispering something to him. Bellatrix watched as the creature's tongue flickered beside her master's ear, and he smiled at what she said. The other Deatheaters were walking through a set of doors into a lounge, to talk in clusters, but Harry pushed past them with little ceremony towards the other door. Towards the way out.

Bellatrix stiffened. Everyone was ignoring her. Now was her chance. Slowly, carefully she stood up and started sliding towards the exit. Voldemort's eyes were closed, his attention on the snake. The other Deatheaters ignored her as she picked her way through them. Already she was a pariah, an example to other Deatheaters of the loss of favour when you displeased the Dark Lord. They averted their eyes from her, frightened of sharing her shame. She refused to allow herself to be intimidated and, reaching the door without mishap, took a last careful glance around the room. The Malfoys were already out of sight, in the lounge. The Dark Lord remained seated, his eyes slowly sweeping the room, but there were a few Deatheaters between them. He didn't seem to have seen her. She slipped out of the door swiftly, her dress hissing against the door frame.

Harry had left via the front door and was standing on the lawns, silver green in the moonlight. Bellatrix's breath came rapidly, clouds misting in front of her. This wasn't like other kills. It would have to be done silently and swiftly. A brief worry flickered in her mind. What would Voldemort do when he found his Horcrux dead? His fury would be terrible. Yet she found she didn't care. Let him rage. Let him kill her. She would be free of the terrible spider web wrapped around her heart, choking her. Bellatrix Black tried to scream to Harry, to warn him. He was oblivious; standing silently, hands behind his back, staring at the hedges. Now he started, as if aware of her presence and Bellatrix shrunk back. He didn't look behind him, but turned and started walking towards a fountain where a naked and ill-proportioned naiad was frozen in coy amusement at the jets of water pouring from her nipples. Harry sat down at the edge of the fountain and Bellatrix Lestrange slunk forward, a silken shadow in the dark night. As she watched he trailed his hand in the basin of water, just as she had that night he had been attacked.

The day she had woken up with a son.

She hesitated, torn by her conflicting emotions. In front of her was a boy, nothing more, still legally a child, lost and alone. It wasn't his fault he had been interposed into her life; it had been the Dark lord's decision. And he had genuinely loved her. He probably still did. Bellatrix Black wanted nothing more than to run to him, to comfort him and hold him.

Which was exactly why Bellatrix Lestrange had to kill him. She drew her wand, her composure and certainty returning. He would die now. This boy, who had defied death for so long, would die in the moonlight, at the hand of a woman he loved. It was delightfully tragic. It was deliciously evil. And she would be free.

A hand clapped over her mouth, stifling her reactive scream. A second one wrenched the wand out of her grasp, then grabbed her arm and twisted it up behind her back. It happened too fast for her to stop it, and suddenly she was being held by someone with a painfully strong grip.

"Can I not leave you two alone for five minutes?" Voldemort exclaimed in her ear, his voice an aggravated whisper. Icy fear ran through her. There was no point pretending. He knew what she had been intending to do. She was lost. She was lost.

Harry's still alive! Bellatrix Black cheered. Bellatrix Lestrange was too empty to care.

Voldemort led her away from Harry, who still hadn't noticed them, and around the corner of the house into a small yet distractingly ostentatious pagoda. His grip was far from gentle. Only when they were in the pagoda did he remove his hand from her mouth and throw her to the ground as she was accustomed to hurling House Elves around. She sprawled, her hair over her face, and it took an act of supreme bravery to lift her head. Voldemort glared at her, his eyes crackling with anger.

"Do you know what happened to the last Deatheater who betrayed me?" he hissed. She shook. It hadn't been an attack on him! Just Harry. It was only about Harry. Voldemort snorted. "My Horcrux!" he snarled. "You wanted to kill him, and you think that it's just about Harry?" He stared at her in contempt. "To think that I once valued you." Bellatrix Lestrange shrunk away from his harsh tone, the pain almost unbearable. She hadn't believed that he could hurt her more, but now fresh guilt washed over her, fresh agony at his words. Deep down in her soul she was his creature and every spat syllable was like a kick.

Except that Bellatrix Black could see through the pain. She rolled over so that she lay facing him and lifted herself up on her elbows.

"You shouldn't have tampered with me. You made me wrong. It's your fault." Voldemort looked as if he'd dearly have loved to strike her, but checked his hand. Instead the anger filtered away and amusement filled his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

"And who are you, then? My Bella would not answer back to me so brazenly." Bellatrix Black shivered. She was a Deatheater, she was conditioned to love this monster, to fear him. Only there was something more important in life even than Voldemort.

"I am yours through and through," she whispered. "You made me to look after Harry. To love him. Perhaps then you made me too well. He's miserable." She barked a nervous laugh. "It's not working. He's not satisfied, Dark Lord." Voldemort paused, considering.

"I will fix that," he said calmly. "But now, Bellatrix, what shall I do? By all rights you should die." She trembled, but it was clear that the fury had left him. For once he seemed in a lenient mood, and she wondered if he regretted what he had done. It had cost him a faithful Deatheater, after all. Voldemort smiled coldly. "You value yourself too much, Bella. I regret nothing. Yet I will not kill you. Instead I will tame you." He suddenly bent down and grasped her arm, lifting her to her feet in one fluid movement. She rocked, regaining her balance. There was a rush of sleeve, and Voldemort's hand was in an instant pressed against her forehead. When he spoke his voice was deep with magic.

"If you try and harm him you will suffer for it. You will not be able to lift your wand without pain; you will not be able to say the words without your head splitting. Lady Bellatrix, Black and Lestrange, I bind you to Harry Potter forever. As he lives, you live. When he dies so you too will perish.' He removed his hand and Bellatrix nearly collapsed. She stared at him in horror. He curved his lips appreciatively, pleased with himself. "Much better than death, I feel. Look after him, Bella. Your life literally depends on it." She reached out to grasp his hand, to plead, but he vanished before she could touch him.

I've won, Bellatrix Black giggled. He's safe. I've won.

"Be quiet," Bellatrix Lestrange snapped aloud. "Silence, spell-child. You can not win." The Dark Lord thought he'd won did he? Well she'd show him. More than anything at that moment she wanted to hurt him, to weaken him. If she could do that then she'd die happy.

She set off purposefully, jogging back across the lawn. Harry was still at the fountain where'd she'd left him five, ten minutes ago. Her wand lay in the grass where it had fallen, and she stooped to pick it up. It was too easy. And it would finally be over. She would be free.

You can't! Bellatrix Black whispered.

"I can," she hissed back. She lifted her wand… and nearly dropped it as her arm felt as if it had been plunged into flames. It was all she could do not to scream, the pain was so intense. It was burning her, so painful, she was going to black out. Desperately she tried to force the words of the killing spell through her lips as her wand hand trembled.

"Ava–" And then her skull felt as if it had been sliced in half. Bellatrix dropped her wand and fell to her knees, clutching her head and howling in agony. Dimly, through teary eyes, she saw Harry jump, spin around, start walking to her.

No! Bellatrix Black screamed.

Not you, Bellatrix Lestrange cried.

And then merciful darkness enveloped her.