I've Decided to Plague You All With My Incessant Writing
It appears as though the writing bug has hit me once again. I've been on a writing harry potter fanfics craze lately. Yet another:
Rating: PG
Summary: "It is not so great as you might think," the Dark Lord cautioned. "I only meant to imply that you would be more useful than Lucius when it comes to... certain things."
"What certain things, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, eagerly now.
(I've noticed that I love picking apart the lives of the "bad guy" in a book or movie. I wonder what that says about me...) :P
Bellatrix Lestrange was angry. Yet another plan to secure the boy and thwart Dumbledore had failed. And the fault of it all lied on the shoulders of that miserable excuse for a man, her sister's husband. Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord continued to associate Lucius' mistakes with her, though she was not to blame. Narcissa had married the weak-minded wizard, not her. The injustice of that made her want to kill her brother-in-law, and she had seriously considered doing so, but a desperate need to be on good terms with Voldemort restrained her. Bellatrix was not one to spill her deepest secrets to anyone, but even Lucius knew of her passion for the Dark Lord. Ever since she had begun working in his circle, ever since she had become a Death Eater, she had been attracted to him. He was so distant, so evil, so secret. Bellatrix wanted what the Dark Lord absolutely forbid above all else. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted him to take her into his arms. She wanted to feel his cold, thin fingers sliding down her back, touching her face, running through her hair. She wanted to know the feeling of his thin lips, lips that had formed the words that had killed thousands. Mostly, she wanted to know what he was thinking. She wanted him to tell her of his plans, of the future he had planned. She wanted to be a part of that future. She wanted to see Severus Snape's cold, black eyes glitter with jealousy when she was Voldemort's favorite. But the Dark Lord would not or could not be loved. Bellatrix had tried to change his mind, tried to please him, but he remained as indifferent as the stone gargoyle staring down at her now. Bellatrix glared up at it, feeling hostile and rebellious. She glanced around the room. Draco was sitting at the opposite end of the long table that occupied a large part of the space, his eyes wild. Looking at him, Bellatrix was briefly reminded of a cornered prey. Narcissa was sitting directly across from her, twisting her hankerchief nervously, her eyes darting from the door to her lap and back again. Bellatrix was in no mood to try and comfort them. If Lucius died by the Dark Lord's bidding, then so much the better for all of them. She only regretted not being able to see it happen. But, though the Dark Lord had summoned the four, it was Lucius he had requested to see in private. Narcissa had wailed, throwing herself at Voldemort's feet, begging him not to harm her husband. Bellatrix had watched, disgusted at her sister's groveling, as Voldemort had coldly turned her away, promising to do "what was best."
Now they were waiting in this dark, dreary room to hear of Lucius' fate. Bellatrix tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. They had been waiting the better part of an hour. Suddenly, a hideous moan came from behind the closed door. Narcissa flew up, whimpering. She ran to the door, raising her hand to pound on it, but Bellatrix grabbed her wrist.
"No, Cissy," She whispered fiercely. "The Dark Lord should not be disturbed."
"But, Lucius..." Narcissa sobbed. "He's going to kill him, I know it, Bella."
"The Dark Lord promised to do what was best. Perhaps it is for the best, Cissy. There are certainly men more worthy of you," Bellatrix reasoned gently.
"No! Lucius is my husband, Draco's father..." Narcissa looked on the verge of hysteria.
The door was flung open unexpectedly, and Lucius stumbled into the room.
"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa gasped.
He was white and sweaty, his eyes revealed his panic. Narcissa knelt down beside him and gently began rubbing his face. Draco walked over to his father, looking unsure of what to do. Bellatrix scowled and peered past the half-open door into the room beyond. It appeared as though no one was there. She tiptoed past the Malfoys and pushed the door open further. When no movement or sound stopped or startled her, she slipped into the dark chamber. It was small and circular. The only light came from the moon streaming in through the open door that led to the balcony. In the center of the room was a desk. On the desk lay various pieces of paper, Bellatrix glanced at these briefly before concluding that they were of no importance. Also on the desk were a small, dusty bottle full of a brown liquid, a quill, and a wand. Bellatrix was intrigued by the wand. It was knotted and knarled and well-worn. She picked it up gently and held it up to the light to examine it.
"It was made with a feather from the tail of a Phoenix," Voldemort said, appearing as if out of nowhere.
Bellatrix jumped and dropped the wand as if it burned her fingers, "My Lord- forgive me- I had no idea..."
Voldemort only inclined his head the slightest bit. Bellatrix was not sure whether this was a forgiving action or an angry one. She picked up the wand, which had fallen to the floor, to hide her face. She laid it carefully back on the desk, and then turned to go.
"Bellatrix, do stay, for a moment. I wish to ask you something," Voldemort said, and, though it sounded like a request, Bellatrix heard the command underneath. She bit her lip and followed the wizard out onto the balcony.
"How is Lucius?" Voldemort asked, once Bellatrix had stopped beside him at the balcony railing.
"He will be fine, my Lord," Bellatrix said softly. "You gave him far more than he deserved."
"Perhaps," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "But Lucius is valuable in certain ways, if only that of being easily influenced and submissive. I do not want to be rid of him, for all of his failures, just yet."
Bellatrix thought that was a rather ominous ending, even for Voldemort, but she remained silent.
"Nevertheless, the loss of the prophecy was a terrible thing. I cannot be let down like that again. Bellatrix, you are of great value to me," Voldemort said then.
Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat and she turned to look into the wizard's eyes. But he was turned away from her, facing out toward the vallies beyond. Bellatrix looked down at her hands.
"That is a great compliment, my Lord. I thank you," she said finally.
"It is not so great as you might think," the Dark Lord cautioned. "I only meant to imply that you would be more useful than Lucius when it comes to... certain things."
"What certain things, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, eagerly now.
"I need you to convince the boy to do something for me," Voldemort replied.
"Anything you wish, I'm certain Draco would be happy to do," Bellatrix assured.
"I'm not so sure. This is a very big favor to request. Draco might not be ready," he said.
"What is it?" Bellatrix asked, invisioning grand missions that would finally put her family's name in a good light.
Voldemort turned to face Bellatrix, and she looked up into his cold, distant eyes.
"He must kill Dumbledore," the Dark Lord said after a moment.
Bellatrix froze. Never had she imagined that it would be something like that. Capture Potter's friends, maybe, or perhaps even kill that wretched McGonagall. But never like this.
"My Lord," Bellatrix began in a shaky voice. "Surely, there is someone... more suitable for such a large task?"
"I disagree. I happen to find Draco to be the perfect choice for the job," Voldemort said dismissively.
Bellatrix started to say more, but any thoughts of refusal disappeared with a quelching look from the powerful wizard.
"Whatever you wish, my Lord," she whispered, looking down at her feet.
"Good," Voldemort sounded pleased.
Then there was a soft, swift movement, quick as lighting, and he had grabbed her chin between his white fingers. Bellatrix looked up at him, her big, brown eyes locked to his small, black ones.
"This cannot fail, Bellatrix," he whispered.
"No, my Lord," she replied.
Voldemort seemed about to say more, to do something else, but then he simply dropped his hand and turned back to the view spread out before him.
"That is all," he said. "You may go, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix nodded and slowly turned and walked off the balcony. She turned back at the door, grabbing its frame for support. Voldemort had his hands spread out on the balcony railing and his head was bent low. For a moment, Bellatrix swayed on the spot, wanting to go back to him. But, instead, she tiptoed out of the room. Had she stayed a moment longer, she would have seen the wizard lift his hand and rub his fingers together thoughtfully, as though remembering the feeling of a soft chin beneath them.
Rating: PG
Summary: "It is not so great as you might think," the Dark Lord cautioned. "I only meant to imply that you would be more useful than Lucius when it comes to... certain things."
"What certain things, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, eagerly now.
(I've noticed that I love picking apart the lives of the "bad guy" in a book or movie. I wonder what that says about me...) :P
Bellatrix Lestrange was angry. Yet another plan to secure the boy and thwart Dumbledore had failed. And the fault of it all lied on the shoulders of that miserable excuse for a man, her sister's husband. Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord continued to associate Lucius' mistakes with her, though she was not to blame. Narcissa had married the weak-minded wizard, not her. The injustice of that made her want to kill her brother-in-law, and she had seriously considered doing so, but a desperate need to be on good terms with Voldemort restrained her. Bellatrix was not one to spill her deepest secrets to anyone, but even Lucius knew of her passion for the Dark Lord. Ever since she had begun working in his circle, ever since she had become a Death Eater, she had been attracted to him. He was so distant, so evil, so secret. Bellatrix wanted what the Dark Lord absolutely forbid above all else. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted him to take her into his arms. She wanted to feel his cold, thin fingers sliding down her back, touching her face, running through her hair. She wanted to know the feeling of his thin lips, lips that had formed the words that had killed thousands. Mostly, she wanted to know what he was thinking. She wanted him to tell her of his plans, of the future he had planned. She wanted to be a part of that future. She wanted to see Severus Snape's cold, black eyes glitter with jealousy when she was Voldemort's favorite. But the Dark Lord would not or could not be loved. Bellatrix had tried to change his mind, tried to please him, but he remained as indifferent as the stone gargoyle staring down at her now. Bellatrix glared up at it, feeling hostile and rebellious. She glanced around the room. Draco was sitting at the opposite end of the long table that occupied a large part of the space, his eyes wild. Looking at him, Bellatrix was briefly reminded of a cornered prey. Narcissa was sitting directly across from her, twisting her hankerchief nervously, her eyes darting from the door to her lap and back again. Bellatrix was in no mood to try and comfort them. If Lucius died by the Dark Lord's bidding, then so much the better for all of them. She only regretted not being able to see it happen. But, though the Dark Lord had summoned the four, it was Lucius he had requested to see in private. Narcissa had wailed, throwing herself at Voldemort's feet, begging him not to harm her husband. Bellatrix had watched, disgusted at her sister's groveling, as Voldemort had coldly turned her away, promising to do "what was best."
Now they were waiting in this dark, dreary room to hear of Lucius' fate. Bellatrix tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. They had been waiting the better part of an hour. Suddenly, a hideous moan came from behind the closed door. Narcissa flew up, whimpering. She ran to the door, raising her hand to pound on it, but Bellatrix grabbed her wrist.
"No, Cissy," She whispered fiercely. "The Dark Lord should not be disturbed."
"But, Lucius..." Narcissa sobbed. "He's going to kill him, I know it, Bella."
"The Dark Lord promised to do what was best. Perhaps it is for the best, Cissy. There are certainly men more worthy of you," Bellatrix reasoned gently.
"No! Lucius is my husband, Draco's father..." Narcissa looked on the verge of hysteria.
The door was flung open unexpectedly, and Lucius stumbled into the room.
"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa gasped.
He was white and sweaty, his eyes revealed his panic. Narcissa knelt down beside him and gently began rubbing his face. Draco walked over to his father, looking unsure of what to do. Bellatrix scowled and peered past the half-open door into the room beyond. It appeared as though no one was there. She tiptoed past the Malfoys and pushed the door open further. When no movement or sound stopped or startled her, she slipped into the dark chamber. It was small and circular. The only light came from the moon streaming in through the open door that led to the balcony. In the center of the room was a desk. On the desk lay various pieces of paper, Bellatrix glanced at these briefly before concluding that they were of no importance. Also on the desk were a small, dusty bottle full of a brown liquid, a quill, and a wand. Bellatrix was intrigued by the wand. It was knotted and knarled and well-worn. She picked it up gently and held it up to the light to examine it.
"It was made with a feather from the tail of a Phoenix," Voldemort said, appearing as if out of nowhere.
Bellatrix jumped and dropped the wand as if it burned her fingers, "My Lord- forgive me- I had no idea..."
Voldemort only inclined his head the slightest bit. Bellatrix was not sure whether this was a forgiving action or an angry one. She picked up the wand, which had fallen to the floor, to hide her face. She laid it carefully back on the desk, and then turned to go.
"Bellatrix, do stay, for a moment. I wish to ask you something," Voldemort said, and, though it sounded like a request, Bellatrix heard the command underneath. She bit her lip and followed the wizard out onto the balcony.
"How is Lucius?" Voldemort asked, once Bellatrix had stopped beside him at the balcony railing.
"He will be fine, my Lord," Bellatrix said softly. "You gave him far more than he deserved."
"Perhaps," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "But Lucius is valuable in certain ways, if only that of being easily influenced and submissive. I do not want to be rid of him, for all of his failures, just yet."
Bellatrix thought that was a rather ominous ending, even for Voldemort, but she remained silent.
"Nevertheless, the loss of the prophecy was a terrible thing. I cannot be let down like that again. Bellatrix, you are of great value to me," Voldemort said then.
Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat and she turned to look into the wizard's eyes. But he was turned away from her, facing out toward the vallies beyond. Bellatrix looked down at her hands.
"That is a great compliment, my Lord. I thank you," she said finally.
"It is not so great as you might think," the Dark Lord cautioned. "I only meant to imply that you would be more useful than Lucius when it comes to... certain things."
"What certain things, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, eagerly now.
"I need you to convince the boy to do something for me," Voldemort replied.
"Anything you wish, I'm certain Draco would be happy to do," Bellatrix assured.
"I'm not so sure. This is a very big favor to request. Draco might not be ready," he said.
"What is it?" Bellatrix asked, invisioning grand missions that would finally put her family's name in a good light.
Voldemort turned to face Bellatrix, and she looked up into his cold, distant eyes.
"He must kill Dumbledore," the Dark Lord said after a moment.
Bellatrix froze. Never had she imagined that it would be something like that. Capture Potter's friends, maybe, or perhaps even kill that wretched McGonagall. But never like this.
"My Lord," Bellatrix began in a shaky voice. "Surely, there is someone... more suitable for such a large task?"
"I disagree. I happen to find Draco to be the perfect choice for the job," Voldemort said dismissively.
Bellatrix started to say more, but any thoughts of refusal disappeared with a quelching look from the powerful wizard.
"Whatever you wish, my Lord," she whispered, looking down at her feet.
"Good," Voldemort sounded pleased.
Then there was a soft, swift movement, quick as lighting, and he had grabbed her chin between his white fingers. Bellatrix looked up at him, her big, brown eyes locked to his small, black ones.
"This cannot fail, Bellatrix," he whispered.
"No, my Lord," she replied.
Voldemort seemed about to say more, to do something else, but then he simply dropped his hand and turned back to the view spread out before him.
"That is all," he said. "You may go, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix nodded and slowly turned and walked off the balcony. She turned back at the door, grabbing its frame for support. Voldemort had his hands spread out on the balcony railing and his head was bent low. For a moment, Bellatrix swayed on the spot, wanting to go back to him. But, instead, she tiptoed out of the room. Had she stayed a moment longer, she would have seen the wizard lift his hand and rub his fingers together thoughtfully, as though remembering the feeling of a soft chin beneath them.