[Harry Potter] she'll play her heart to a drum beat; bellatrix lestrange; pg
For: tosca1390
Title: she'll play her heart to a drum beat
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Character: Bellatrix Lestrange
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ??
AN: From the prompt, here (image: Adele's 'Rolling in the Deep' glasses on the floor)
Cross-posted from here | AO3
The sound of her heart is a low and steady thumping in her breast. Beneath dirty skin and ragged clothing, it has a rhythm that reminds her of the War.
For nearly fifteen years, it's what Bellatrix Lestrange wakes to; and when the hours pass and she imagines it must be dark, it's what she falls asleep to.
(Well, that and the sounds of her lovely inmates' screams from either side of her.
The walls, after all, are solid but not soundproof.)
She stays curled in the corner of her dark, wet cell where it's most comfortable, and remembers how they almost had it all - her and the Dark Lord - oh, yes. All of the brilliant, great, amazing things they were within a hair's breadth from achieving. She yearns for it so much, it aches right there - right in her gut so she feels it whenever she inhales, but also where it's pressed into the flesh of her forearm where the Dark Mark has faded into the grime and filth.
Her reward will be great. She will be by his side once more; and she will taste the power and the blood, and the screams of those who would dare not cower before her Lord. She will drink it in like a sweet, rich wine that could fill her heart and quicken its' song.
This cell is her palace, her sacrifice, her gift to the Dark Lord; it is a token of her loyalty - her love - for him, and proof that she is faithful. Always faithful.
She smiles through cracked, dried lips.
And she waits.
This entry was originally posted at here. Please comment here using OpenID.
Title: she'll play her heart to a drum beat
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Character: Bellatrix Lestrange
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ??
AN: From the prompt, here (image: Adele's 'Rolling in the Deep' glasses on the floor)
Cross-posted from here | AO3
The sound of her heart is a low and steady thumping in her breast. Beneath dirty skin and ragged clothing, it has a rhythm that reminds her of the War.
For nearly fifteen years, it's what Bellatrix Lestrange wakes to; and when the hours pass and she imagines it must be dark, it's what she falls asleep to.
(Well, that and the sounds of her lovely inmates' screams from either side of her.
The walls, after all, are solid but not soundproof.)
She stays curled in the corner of her dark, wet cell where it's most comfortable, and remembers how they almost had it all - her and the Dark Lord - oh, yes. All of the brilliant, great, amazing things they were within a hair's breadth from achieving. She yearns for it so much, it aches right there - right in her gut so she feels it whenever she inhales, but also where it's pressed into the flesh of her forearm where the Dark Mark has faded into the grime and filth.
Her reward will be great. She will be by his side once more; and she will taste the power and the blood, and the screams of those who would dare not cower before her Lord. She will drink it in like a sweet, rich wine that could fill her heart and quicken its' song.
This cell is her palace, her sacrifice, her gift to the Dark Lord; it is a token of her loyalty - her love - for him, and proof that she is faithful. Always faithful.
She smiles through cracked, dried lips.
And she waits.
This entry was originally posted at here. Please comment here using OpenID.