Bellatrix descended the steps in Malfoy Manor, her flat dragonhide boots padding quietly on the stone. She'd dressed in battle attire today - the day of the attack on Eliza Atlas' house. She was clad in flexible black leggings that Thabo Shacklebolt had crafted just for her, made from a material that was easy to mend with simple spells if it tore or burned or was otherwise damaged in the blistering combat Bellatrix often encountered. A flowing black linen skirt, with slits cut for easy movement, whipped around her legs as she walked quickly down the corridor. On top, she wore a tunic with loose sleeves to her elbows, over which she had a leather bustier that bound in her torso in a manner that was for stability, not just for fashion. It was closed with aggressive metal buckles that Thabo had shaped like serpents to honour Bellatrix's Slytherin past and part of the Dark Mark. Her tunic was hooded, and tonight Bellatrix had the hood pulled up over her curls, which she'd yanked back into a single tight braid to keep them out of her face. She couldn't risk them blowing into her vision tonight. In one hand, Bellatrix carried her custom silver Death Eater mask, and in the other, she held her strange, bent wand. She knew that she looked nothing like the elegant witch who attended parties in lace gowns or went to meetings in raw silk frocks. Somehow, though, she knew that her master preferred her like this, at her Darkest and most evidently vicious.

She was still walking down the corridor when two blonde witches turned the corner ahead of her and then slowly came to a stop. Narcissa and Tullia Malfoy both looked deeply worried as they approached Bellatrix. Narcissa had her toddler son, Draco, on her hip, and he was squirming and fussing quietly. Tullia's greying hair had been pulled almost neurotically back into a bun, and she'd adorned herself with aquamarine and put on pale blue silk robes. Both witches looked Bellatrix up and down, and then Narcissa noted,

"So you're going, too, then. Please be careful, Bellatrix."

"Always am, Cissy." Bellatrix tipped her head. She neared her younger sister and petted her nephew's wispy hair. She kissed his scalp and murmured, "Be good to your mummy whilst we're off doing work for the Dark Lord, won't you, Draco? We don't want her fretting."

"I always worry terribly," Narcissa whined, shifting her weight and adjusting Draco on her hip. "Bellatrix, how are you coping?"

Bellatrix cocked up an eyebrow at her sister. About Rodolphus, Narcissa meant. How was Bellatrix coping with the loss of her husband? Everyone at Adler Carrow's wedding to Lulit Shacklebolt had been shocked to see Rodolphus Lestrange, a trusted Death Eater, tortured and executed publicly by the Dark Lord. Many had been even more surprised that Bellatrix had seemed unfazed by the execution, or even mildly relieved. Bellatrix scoffed quietly and muttered,

"Suffice it to say, Cissy, that there was no need for a funeral. In any case, I do not suppose the Lestrange family will want anything to do with me anytime soon. Ah, well."

"Abraxas said that the Dark Lord took Rabastan off this mission," Tullia noted. "That he did not trust his judgment given what's happened."

Bellatrix scowled. "With all due respect, Mrs Malfoy, I'm not sure Mr Malfoy is meant to be speaking of such things. The Dark Lord has amassed a fully competent squad for tonight's fight. You can both rest assured that your husbands are in the best company for this fight as they would have been."

"Right. We ought to let you go," Narcissa said, and right on cue, little Draco began wailing as though he wanted food or some other accommodation. Narcissa seemed to know what he wanted, and she set him down on the carpeted corridor runner. Draco settled happily as he sat down and began playing with the hem of Narcissa's robes. But Bellatrix nodded and smiled weakly at her sister and at Tullia, and then she hurried off. She scampered quickly down the rest of the corridor until she reached the Dark Lord's office, and she knocked several times on his door. Inside the office, she could hear the Wizarding Wireless; a witch's voice was loudly reading off the day's news. Bellatrix knocked again, but she wasn't certain he could hear her over the sound of the radio. She let her Occlumency shields down, thinking perhaps he'd feel her mind in the corridor, but after awhile, she recalled that she and only she was allowed to enter his office at will, and she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"My Lord?" She walked into the office, and he looked up from his desk, seeming startled. She was still a few minutes early from when he'd been expecting her, she knew. Still, at once, he snatched his wand from his desk and aimed it at the Wireless, shutting off the news and staring at Bellatrix with open-mouthed wonder as he murmured,

"Somehow, it feels like far too long since I've seen you dressed for warfare."

Bellatrix grinned and approached his desk, dipping into a respectful curtsy and bowing her head. She waited then, obedient and silent, as he rose from where he sat and walked around his desk. He had something in his left hand, she could see, and his wand was in his right hand. He neared her and said softly,

"I'm afraid your side mission of murdering your husband has already been taken care of, Miss Black. All you've got to do tonight is to wipe out as many of my enemies as possible."

"That," Bellatrix said, flicking her eyes up to him, "I am more than happy to do, Master."

She heard him suck in air hard, and he wondered, "Have I got time, do you suppose, before I need to Summon the others?"

"Time, My Lord?" Bellatrix gazed at him. He curled up his lips deviously and teased at her collarbone with the tip of his yew wand, making her shiver. He nodded.

"Time to strip those clothes off of you and pound you until you're screaming for me."

Bellatrix's lips parted, and suddenly she could not speak. She was shocked, then, by the way Voldemort kept dancing his wand's tip around her throat and jaw, teasing her, taunting her, and by the way he whispered in a lethal sort of hiss,

"You know, I'd play music whilst I did it. So that your little sister and Tullia wouldn't hear us. But that would drown out the sound of your moaning, and I do love to hear you express your pleasure, Bella."

"Master." Bellatrix's knees went weak. She felt shaky and dizzy suddenly. She gulped as Voldemort dragged his wand down over the curve of her breast and bent down until his lips were a hair's breadth from hers, his mouth so close she was tempted to aggressively kiss him in her state of heightened arousal. But she just panted a little, his breath mingling with hers as he informed her,

"Oh, yes. I think we have time, Bella, for me to yank down these damned leggings of yours and bend you over onto my desk, to shove my cock into your tight little quim and make you feel it. Hmm? And then we can go fight. What do you think?"

"Yes. Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix was whining desperately, squeezing at her mask and her wand, soaked and throbbing between her legs, her nipples peaked and puckered beneath her clothes. She gasped as Voldemort brushed his lips against hers and then pulled back to stand, smirking down at her and shaking his head.

"Hmm." He looked deeply amused. "Let's go win this battle, Bella, and then we will reward one another."

"Master!" Bellatrix felt her chest crumple with frustration. She growled a little with petulant irritation, and Voldemort actually laughed a bit at her. He kissed her forehead and admitted,

"It was cruel of me to tease you. I'm sorry. But it's best that we not be spent when we fight. Kill well for me, and I do promise to make you come until you can't speak."

He threw up an eyebrow at that, and Bellatrix's heart thrummed. She nodded frantically and curtsied again to him to show her deference. Voldemort held out his left hand and revealed a beautiful little glass phial filled with molten gold liquid.

"Felix Felicis," Bellatrix breathed in wonder, and Voldemort huffed,

"For years, I contemplated giving it to you before battles. But I am well-versed in its historical use, and I am keenly aware that relying on Liquid Luck, becoming addicted to its powers in situations like combat, can be profoundly dangerous or even deadly. So I have never given it to you. But now that you know… now that you know how fiercely I love you, Bella, I can't take you to a battle quite as dangerous as this one, where we don't even know who we are going to face, and risk seeing a green Killing Curse hit you. I simply can't. So. I'll work out a better solution for future fights. For tonight, you'll use this."

She stared at the potion, at the way little globules of golden liquid light leaped around inside the phial, and then she gazed up at her master. She studied his awful scar and his cloudy, smashed-in, blinded eye. She thought of how he'd ruined himself trying to save her years earlier in Cornwall, how he'd absorbed a Blasting Curse he hadn't seen coming because he had been so focused on helping Bellatrix. She felt awful, suddenly, thinking of that, thinking of how tonight he was worried about her safety again. She took the glass phial from his hand and carefully uncorked it as he informed her,

"You will feel reckless. You will feel audacious and carefree and unashamed. You need to be careful how you comport yourself around the others before we go to Eliza Atlas' house. Watch your words and your tone. Don't make a fool of yourself if you can help it."

"I shall try, My Lord." Bellatrix gave him a weak little smile. She held the phial near her lips and then looked at him as deeply as she could and promised, "I will fight for you with all that I am. You know… you must know, Master, that my entire purpose for living is to serve you. I am yours. Mind, body, and soul."

He looked deeply affected at that, and he just nodded and whispered, "Go on and take it. We need to get the others here and get going."

She tipped phial back and drank the Felix Felicis down. It was a bit sticky and cloyingly sweet, like a fluid sort of candy, but almost unpleasantly sugared with an almost rancid aftertaste. Bellatrix coughed and spluttered just a little once the phial was empty. Voldemort took the phial back and wandlessly Vanished it, and Bellatrix instantly felt the effects of the potion seeping into her veins, into her tissue.

Almost at once, it was like a switch had been activated, like she could see more clearly and hear more acutely. She was aware, suddenly, that she would be able to do things that had not been possible mere moments earlier. She gasped softly and beamed up at Voldemort, feeling a swell of joy as she noted,

"Tonight will be a grand victory for you, Master. I feel it."

He chortled and rolled his eyes. "I hope you're right. Let's get the others here quickly and get going, shall we?"

"Yes. Let's." Bellatrix bounced on the balls of her feet and watched as Lord Voldemort touched his wand to his Dark Mark and sighed. He shut his eyes and concentrated, and Bellatrix hissed with a blend of agony and ecstasy as a searing pain ripped through her arm. She looked down to see her Mark flush from pink through burgundy and finally to black. She moaned a bit and kissed her magical tattoo, touching her lips to the place that told the entire world she belonged to the Dark Lord. He stared at her as she did, and she grinned. Then she whirled on her foot and started to make her way from his office, practically leaping down the corridor toward the meeting room. She burst through the doors and chose a chair. She hummed as she sat. She watched Voldemort take his seat at the head of the table, and when he did, she smiled blissfully at him. He hesitated for a moment, and then instructed her in a soft voice,

"Be careful."

"Oh. Right." Bellatrix straightened her back and tipped her chin up, trying not to seem silly. After all, her husband had been executed recently, and they were off to battle. She needed to seem stoic. But Voldemort licked his lips and clarified,

"Don't get hurt, Bella."

She shook her head and assured him in a gentle tone, "I'll be perfectly mine, Master. I've got luck on my side tonight."

He opened his mouth as if there were far more he wanted to say to her, but just then the others began filing into the meeting room one by one. Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy were the first to enter, for they were already inside Malfoy Manor when they'd been Summoned. They were serious and prepared, dressed in coordinated tailored woolen black tunics with silk trim and elaborate piping and silver buttons. Each carried his wand and his mask. They bowed and then sat, and then a few moments later, the Carrow twins came in, dressed in aggressive grey-green robes that were plain but fit for combat. Alecto gave Bellatrix a rather strange look, and she knew why. Alecto had been standing by Rabastan Lestrange at the wedding when Rodolphus had been tortured and executed. And now Bellatrix seemed nothing like a witch in mourning. So, it seemed, the Dark Lord had to have had very good reason to have killed the man. The last wizards to enter the meeting were Yaxley and Rookwood, who had been called in to replace Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange. Once everyone was seated, Voldemort cleared his throat and said firmly,

"You all have in your minds a very clear idea of where Eliza Atlas lives. Atlas has known Dumbledore very well since the 1930s. We have intelligence proving that her home has served as a reliable safe house for the Order of the Phoenix for some time now, and we also have good reason to think they do not suspect we know about it. So, it is very likely that Atlas will be harbouring several Order members there right now. If we hope to defeat them with minimal damage to our side, we will need to land on the grounds of her estate silently, without alerting the Order to our presence, and all of you will need to instantaneously begin assaulting the house with Blasting Curses. I will use Fiendfyre."

Very much on instinct, and as a result of the Felix Felicis making her feel giddy beyond hope, Bellatrix clapped her hands gleefully and giggled a bit. Voldemort shot her a look of correction, and she mumbled an apology. He coughed a little and continued,

"Once the Order members emerge from the house - or what's left of it - begin killing them as quickly as you can. Take no prisoners if at all possible. I want corpses tonight. We've plenty of information. I want bodies. Am I well and truly understood?"

"Yes, Master," Lucius Malfoy said, though his voice was shaking audibly. Amycus Carrow said stoutly,

"We'll fight truly for you, My Lord."

"See that you avoid getting yourselves killed," Voldemort said slickly, "and do recall that anti-capture protocols are in place. I presume you've all got your Amotio Ampoules in case you face the possibility of being taken by the Order?"

Abraxas Malfoy reached into his robe and pulled out a small amber glass oval, and Bellatrix shuddered a little, knowing that contained within was a tiny cube of poison that, if ingested, would kill within seconds. Abraxas stared gravely at the wizard who had been his master for many years, and his onetime school friend, and affirmed,

"We serve you, My Lord, and would never surrender to the enemy."

"Good. Let's go, then. No further delay." Voldemort rose, and everyone else pushed back their chairs and began putting on their custom Death Eater masks. Bellatrix pushed hers onto her face, and it sealed with magic at once. Only she and Lord Voldemort would be able to remove it now. Little good it did her; she was very obvious, with her tiny female frame, her long, curly black hair, her distinctive shrieking voice. But she wore the mask with pride just the same. She started to bound from the room, but Voldemort grabbed at her wrist, and she whirled back to him, gasping. He gave her a solemn look at commanded,

"Hand it over."

Bellatrix frowned behind her mask. "Hand what over, Master?"

He huffed and aimed his wand at her. "We haven't got time… Accio Amotio Ampoule."

Bellatrix was shocked then at the way her suicide capsule came soaring from her legging pocket, the way Voldemort snatched it from the air and tucked it into his own robes. He scowled at Bellatrix and informed her somewhat roughly,

"You will be staying alive tonight, Miss Black. Now. Go and kill well for me."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix nodded, smiling behind the cold metal that covered her face. Voldemort stared and blinked for just a moment longer, and as he released her, he said almost gently,

"I love you, Bella."

Bellatrix aimed her wand at Eliza Atlas' large stone country house and narrowed her eyes. She laughed maliciously behind her mask and stamped her foot, casting the first spell of the battle as she shrieked with all her might,

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

The force of her spell was so incredible that it actually shoved Bellatrix backward, sending her sliding across the grass and struggling to stay in her fighting stance. She snarled through her clenched teeth and staggered, watching as her enhanced Blasting Curse rocketed toward Atlas' house. It exploded through a window and detonated violently, sending huge orange plumes of glowing flame into the black night sky. Stones from the house and tiles from the roof went soaring, and Bellatrix watched as Alecto Carrow threw up a shield to protect herself, for the stones were flying down toward where the other witch was situated. Lucius Malfoy sent another Blasting Curse at the house, though it wasn't half as impressive as Bellatrix's had been. Abraxas sent another one, weak like his son's had been. Bellatrix screamed out another massive Blasting Curse of her own, and before she knew what was happening, she'd blown the entire chimney and two upstairs windows entirely off Eliza Atlas' house in a wild explosion.

A sudden wash of vibrant snaking light careened toward the house and snared around it in a flickering glow as Lord Voldemort, who stood a few metres to Bellatrix's left, cast Fiendfyre at the house. He encircled the home until the entire structure was on fire, until the roof was burning and all the grass around the house had caught flame. There were screams then, shrieks of horror and calls from people who were dashing out from doors and even leaping out from broken windows. Witches and wizards, some of whom appeared to be wearing pyjamas and others who seemed to have come from a watch, dashed out of the burning, badly damaged house with their wands outstretched. The spells began flying at once.

Alastor Moody aimed a Stunning Spell toward Abraxas Malfoy, who deftly blocked it and seemed prepared to aim something back. But Bellatrix thought quickly and jabbed her wand toward Moody, screaming a Killing Curse and watching emerald light soar through the air toward the wizard who had hit her years earlier with a Blood on Fire Curse in Cornwall. Moody collapsed instantly in silent death. A blonde witch shrieked in dismay.

"Alastor!" the witch exclaimed, sprinting toward Moody's body. Bellatrix trained her wand on the witch, identifying her at once as Ione MacLachlan. Bellatrix remembered, vividly, the way Ione had attempted to kill Bellatrix once during a battle. It had been a rare attempt at murder from the Order early in the war. Ione would not hesitate tonight, Bellatrix knew, and Bellatrix certainly was not going to hesitate, either. She jammed her wand forward as she took a few running steps toward Ione, and she called out her Killing Curse like a song. The jade-green flash of light whipped through the night, past the glow of her master's Fiendfyre that was now engulfing the house entirely. Ione crumpled like a rag doll, dead the second Bellatrix's spell hit her.

"Lucius!"

Bellatrix whirled to see Abraxas Malfoy looking at his son, who was lying on his back on the ground. Bellatrix looked up at Abraxas and yelled out over the din of battle,

"Is he dead?"

"A Concussion Curse!" Abraxas cried out. "I have to get him to the Manor, or he's going to get himself killed. I'll take him back there and come back immediately."

"Go, go!" Bellatrix shrieked. She dashed away as Abraxas approached his son, Bellatrix's brother-in-law, and seized the young wizard's unmoving arm. The two of them Disapparated then, and Bellatrix neared her master, who was controlling his Fiendfyre expertly. Bellatrix studied the battlefield, seeing that Alecto Carro was looming over the corpse of a red-haired witch and a red-haired wizard. Bellatrix nodded to herself. The Weasleys. Molly and Arthur. Then she looked further on to see Rookwood engaged in a fierce duel with a young wizard who seemed close to besting him; purple sparks sent Rookwood flipping end over end, and he struggled to get up. Bellatrix ran toward Rookwood and held her wand out as she recognised the opponent.

"Sirius!" she called, and her cousin hesitated with Rookwood just long enough to bark out a bitter laugh as he tipped his head and said angrily,

"Dear cousin Bellatrix. Fancy seeing you here."

Rookwood shot a Curse at Sirius, who parried it with impressive skill at once. Bellatrix snarled and felt rage inside of her boil up.

"Blood traitor!" she screamed. "Shame of the House of Black!"

"Shame?" Sirius called back. "Speak for yourself, you awful wench!"
"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix yelled, incanting the Curse with all of her might. She actually fell down then from the force of her own spell, rocketing down onto the damp grass as the force of her angry Killing Curse sent her off balance. She scrambled to get up, aiming her wand around frantically as she searched for her next victim. And then she realised something. The incredible heat of Voldemort's Fiendfyre had faded. The bright light from the snaking fire he'd cast had gone out, and it was much darker now.

And as Bellatrix turned toward her master, she saw that he was staring down his most despised enemy, and perhaps the only other wizard on Earth that might legitimately be considered to be great - Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, who had come out of Eliza Atlas' house wearing simple pale grey robes, was covered in soot, and his robes had been torn from the combat that had already transpired. His knobby wand was aimed at Voldemort, and his wispy white hair blew in the night air as he glared at his old nemesis through his half-moon spectacles. He spoke then, so quietly that Bellatrix could hardly hear him over the sound of Alecto and Amycus Carrow fighting off remaining enemies, over the sound of Yaxley chasing an Order member down to the creek on foot, over the sound of Rookwood writhing in agony from a spell he'd taken before Sirius had died.

"Lower your wand, Tom, and end all of this now."

Voldemort scoffed. "We have been down this road many times, old man. How frequently must we meet, you and I, and have these ridiculous standoffs?"

"One more time, it seems." Dumbledore took a step toward Voldemort, and on instinct, Bellatrix rushed toward the two of them with her own wand up. She incanted roughly through her mask to Dumbledore,

"Expelliarmus!"

For some reason, her brazen act seemed to have struck both Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort as supremely shocking, as almost stupid in how gutsy and brash it was. This wasn't Sirius Black she'd Disarmed; this was Albus Dumbledore. Not even Lord Voldemort himself frequently dared engage the man in open duelling. Usually, once they came face to face in a battle, they spoke to one another with derision, aimed their wands at one another's faces, and both retreated, taking their casualties with them. But now, here at Eliza Atlas' house, Bellatrix was standing away from the both of them, snatching Dumbledore's knobby, slender wand from the air as it soared toward her. It felt divine in her hand, and something compelled her to instantly tuck her own strange, bent wand away and to aim Dumbledore's own wand at him. He stared at her through his glasses, wide-eyed, and shook his head as he insisted,

"Bellatrix, the consequences of what you are considering doing are far more egregious than you think."

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," Bellatrix said, feeling a swell of pure glee. "I know exactly what I am doing. And I am doing it for the love of my master. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A jet of green light, pure and focused, shot straight from the tip of the wand in Bellatrix's hand and rocketed straight against Dumbledore's chest. In the instant before the Killing Curse hit him, Bellatrix could have sworn she saw Dumbledore fold his hands in front of him and shut his eyes, as though he had accepted the inevitable, as though he had decided right then and there that this was it, that this was the moment of death.

And die he did, his old knees giving out weakly beneath him as the green spell washed over him in a smoky, liquid sort of embrace. His arms and neck went visibly limp. He hit the grass inelegantly, his half-moon spectacles falling awkwardly from his face and his pale grey robes coming up around his knees in a way that was just a bit immodest. He looked so much less imposing, so much less intimidating and threatening and deserving of honour or respect, lying on the ground in a lifeless heap.

Bellatrix cackled suddenly, breaking out into an uncontrollable state of manic glee. She laughed and laughed until she almost vomited. She fell to her knees, her stomach aching from the wheezing hilarity of it all. She heard surviving Alecto Carrow crying out that Amycus was missing his left arm and was bleeding badly, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was distantly aware of the Dark Lord yelling out for Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy, and she knew she ought to tell him that they'd gone to Malfoy Manor, that Lucius had been Concussed. But she just laughed until she collapsed onto her side on the ground.

She'd killed Alastor Moody. She'd killed Ione MacLachlan. The Weasleys were dead. Sirius Black was dead, by Bellatrix's own wand. And Albus Dumbledore, too, had been slain, Disarmed and then murdered by Bellatrix herself.

She was aware, at long last, of the sensation of being hauled to her feet, of her mask being peeled off her face. And then she was being kissed, so ardently that she could hardly breathe, and all of her laughter dissolved. She struggled to stand, but Lord Voldemort took care of that, wrapping her up in his arms and supporting her by the small of her back. She was covered in dirt, she knew, from explosions and from falling repeatedly to the ground. She was filthy and probably smelled of fire and smoke. But he kissed her like mad, right there on the battlefield in front of all his Death Eaters. Bellatrix wasn't even certain who was watching them, and, frankly, she did not care.

She felt his trembling fingers pull back her hood and course over her curls, dance over her cheek, and he crushed her mouth until their teeth clacked a little. Bellatrix moaned helplessly, grabbing with frantic little fingers at his robes and realising they'd been torn up. She wanted him so badly right now she couldn't control herself at all, and she pawed desperately at his torso, down his stomach, toward his trousers. He grunted into her mouth and finally broke their kiss, muttering,

"Don't tempt me, Bellatrix; I will fuck you right here on this field."

"Do it, Master," Bellatrix panted, staring up at him. His eyes flashed wildly. He choked a little noise and then pulled away a little, staggering back a few steps and staring at her as if she were beautiful but very, very dangerous. He gulped visibly, still holding her mask in one hand and his own wand in the other. He glanced around at those who remained. Bellatrix looked about, feeling more alive than she'd ever been. Her veins buzzed and her heart pounded so insistently she thought it might burst straight out of her chest.

Alecto Carrow was here, but Amycus had gone, apparently to go get help for his injury. How he'd managed to Disapparate whilst missing an entire arm, Bellatrix was not certain. Alecto was staring at Bellatrix in utter shock, and Bellatrix knew why. First of all, Bellatrix had killed Albus Dumbledore, a feat that had been previously assumed to only be possible by Lord Voldemort himself. And then there was the fact that the Dark Lord had so recently killed Bellatrix's husband, and now was kissing Bellatrix fiercely on the battlefield. That seemed to be surprising everyone; Rookwood and Yaxley looked similarly mortified by what they'd witnessed, and similarly awed. Everyone seemed completely exhausted.

Eliza Atlas' house was still burning, a shell of what it had once been. No members of the Order of the Phoenix who had been present appeared to have survived. The corpses of myriad enemies littered the grass outside Eliza Atlas' house, including the ones killed by Bellatrix, and others her fellow Death Eaters had taken down. The Longbottoms lay sprawled where they'd been fighting. The Weasleys were dead. MacLachlan, Moody, Sirius Black. Eliza Atlas. And Albus Dumbledore himself.

Bellatrix watched as Lord Voldemort stalked over to the vulgar and common-looking dead body that had once been the mighty titan of Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort loomed over Dumbledore's corpse and then kicked at it roughly with his dragonhide boot, eliciting laughter and hisses from the masked Death Eaters. Voldemort scoffed and met Bellatrix's eyes. In the glow of the burning house, he was so profoundly perfect, she thought, and her eyes welled heavily as she asked him seriously,

"Have I made you proud, Master?"

He nodded. "Exceedingly proud. Morsmordre."

He aimed his bony yew wand toward the black night sky, and a flicker of emerald light rocketed upward. The Dark Mark was cast among the clouds in a murky nocturnal tattoo, eerily painting the sky with a warning that a slaughter, a grand massacre, had happened here.

"This," Voldemort called out, "changes absolutely everything. Await my Summons. In the meantime, keep yourselves in hiding. Stay safe. You have all served me well."

One by one, the Death Eaters on the field began to Disapparate. Bellatrix waited until Voldemort approached her, and when he did, he slid his wand hand through hers and bent to kiss her, murmuring onto her lips,

"I promised to reward you. You will be rewarded. Come with me."

Author's Note: Whewwwwwwwww. That was a doozy! So Sirius is dead, Moody's dead, and… Dumbledore is dead! O.O And it looks like some steamy goodness is headed our way. Mwah hahahaha.

Please do take a moment to review if you don't mind. I really do appreciate your feedback.