Fic: She Loves, He Knows
Title: She Loves, He Knows
Author: dexstarr
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange/Lord Voldemort
Warnings: Angst?
Author's Note: Not sure what to say, this just flowed out, which never happens for me.
Disclaimer: HP and all assorted belong to JKR and are not mine.
Summary: She loves him and he knows it.
***
She stares, with undisguised longing, as his slim form stalks around the table. Her head twists to follow the sound of his cloak and robes as the material slithers over the stone floor, the hissing noise reverberating deep in her heart. She delights in the looks of fear that cross the faces of her brother-in-law and sister as he strokes the back of their chairs.
Then his long, slender, claw-tipped fingers reach out, and the small, broken noise that falls from Lucius’s mouth as he hands over his wand has her squirming in her chair.
Watching him exert his power so, over someone she despises, is intoxicating. It’s better than imbibing the finest elf-made wine, alcohol so potent and heady that one’s tongue tingles for hours with the taste-memory.
Bellatrix wishes he would let her drink from that fount; let her consummate the desire that thrums through her body at the mere sight of him.
She loves him unconditionally.
He knows.
He denies her, because that’s the best way to hurt her, to cause the exquisite pain that leaves her moaning in the dark, wishing her fingers were his.
And she loves him all the more for that.
***
Author: dexstarr
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange/Lord Voldemort
Warnings: Angst?
Author's Note: Not sure what to say, this just flowed out, which never happens for me.
Disclaimer: HP and all assorted belong to JKR and are not mine.
Summary: She loves him and he knows it.
***
She stares, with undisguised longing, as his slim form stalks around the table. Her head twists to follow the sound of his cloak and robes as the material slithers over the stone floor, the hissing noise reverberating deep in her heart. She delights in the looks of fear that cross the faces of her brother-in-law and sister as he strokes the back of their chairs.
Then his long, slender, claw-tipped fingers reach out, and the small, broken noise that falls from Lucius’s mouth as he hands over his wand has her squirming in her chair.
Watching him exert his power so, over someone she despises, is intoxicating. It’s better than imbibing the finest elf-made wine, alcohol so potent and heady that one’s tongue tingles for hours with the taste-memory.
Bellatrix wishes he would let her drink from that fount; let her consummate the desire that thrums through her body at the mere sight of him.
She loves him unconditionally.
He knows.
He denies her, because that’s the best way to hurt her, to cause the exquisite pain that leaves her moaning in the dark, wishing her fingers were his.
And she loves him all the more for that.
***