Fifty yards from her he stood, wand slashing through the air, and her eyes caught his silhouette every so often as she whirled and twirled and ducked, dancing the very dance he'd taught her himself, years earlier.
They were three around her, just girls who stood no chance, nothing of a challenge. She'd take one down in no time – the Mudblood, the pale Lovegood girl, or Potter's girlfriend? – and confidence flowed into her veins as she moved, fearless, lethal. That was surely why her gaze was drawn, irresistibly, to the deadly frame of him in the distance as he duelled, also, three to one. Nobody could be a match to him, and she didn't want to miss seeing one of them fall, the fools who'd thrown themselves under her master's wand, absurdly oblivious of the fate that awaited them. Her eyes danced and leaped from face to face, flash to flash, and yet she was keenly aware of her own fight – an awareness that was easy and nothing but utterly natural as she undoubtedly set the rhythm of the duel, whirling and striking in pace with the beating of her heart as the children struggled to survive under her fire. One-two-three – twist and turn, and a curse flew mere inches from the redheaded girl's chest, a merciful shot and yet a reminder. Swiftness, and control, with just a hint of wilderness – the sheer essence of duelling, which her opponents would never get the chance to know. Instinctively, her gaze sought his approval, a second's sharing of their power and impending victory – but he was not looking, and in the time it took her to turn back, an almighty shriek that was certainly no curse had resounded and something in her fate had shifted.
A new opponent. A derisive laugh was ripped from her throat as she recognized the woman and her little worth in one glance, but she saw rage next, absolute and unadulterated, and that was something she knew well, knew better than to underestimate – something that came with a tangy taste of danger, always. So be it, then.
The rhythm of their duel was frantic and ferocious and Bellatrix hit mercilessly, her eyes not drifting this time. She taunted and shouted but the urgency was there like a drumming at the back of her brain, as it assessed, reacted and now worried, having snapped from the heady high that came before a certain kill. She duelled and thought, no ally around her, only her Lord, in her back now. She would win, he would kill, and what then? Where was the army – the glory – their moment, so potent just minutes back?
Bellatrix laughed, as she'd heard "Never", and if the word hit her it only roused disbelief. Disbelief hit her next and there was a break in the rhythm somewhere as she, slowly, fell backwards. Her eyes touched the sky up above the Great Hall and she knew dimly that she'd never see dawn.
It never seemed possible.