Not About Love

The rush of power was immediate and intense. To this point, she had lived her listless life knowing her one passion, her calling, but had restrained from indulging herself in it. For the first time, she was, and it made her feel both powerful and alive. Examining the closet, she chose the clothing least reminiscent of a middle-aged Muggle woman for Ernestina to wear, and with a flick of her wand, packed up the woman's belongings. There was little else to do but wait for Mr. Woolbright's return.

They took the suitcases downstairs and sat in the overstuffed sofa facing the front door. Usually Bellatrix hated waiting, but in this case, she found the tense anticipation rather enjoyable.

"Would you like to make some tea, Ernestina?" she asked. "Of course you would." Bellatrix laughed as, at a flick of her wand, the older woman proceeded to the kitchen. Minutes later, she emerged, daintily handing Bellatrix a mug of Earl Gray, her favorite. By the time the tea was finished, it was nearly dark, the Mr. Woolbright would be home shortly. In preparation for his return, Bellatrix cast a disillusionment charm on herself and receded into the dining room, from where she could keep her eye--and wand--on Ernestina.

He was shorter than she expected-- Bellatrix imagined that he only came to her eye-level or so--and wore a silly, rounded type of hat. He apparated with a fairly decisive-sounding "pop." Bellatrix steadied her grasp on her wand, fixed her gaze on Ernestina, and made her move.

"William," Ernestina said uncertainly, as her husband hung up his hat and cloak on the brass stand by the door.

"Yes, darling. Is dinner ready?"

"No. No, it's not."

William paused uncertainly, befuddled as to this change in the routine. "Is something wrong, Ernestina?"

"No. Well, yes. Come in here, William, please." He followed her voice into the sitting room, and conveniently enough, sat down on the armchair facing away from Bellatrix. This really was her day, she thought.

"What is it, dear?" It was then that he noticed the suitcases at Ernestina's feet, and his face clouded over.

"I'm leaving, William." Bellatrix had been very tempted to orchestrate the breakup in her own personal fashion: stormy and violent, but realized that this would probably be quite out of context for the homely, floral Ernestina.

He looked at her in silence. After a moment he spoke, unable to hide a slight quiver in his voice. "Is there somewhere you need to go?"

"I don't think you quite understand William. I'm leaving. It's... it's someone else. I'm sorry. I wanted it to work between us, but it won't." Ernestina stood and reached for her suitcase.

He sat there, shocked and unable to speak. William Woolbright was a simple man, good at what he did, fair and honest. He had always known his wife to be the same; it was a perfect match. Her revealing any sort of treachery, anything under the surface which she'd concealed from her husband of ten years stunned him. Finally, as she was near the front door, he found his voice again. "Will you... will you write me, darling?"

"No, I'm sorry, William," came her reply as the door squeaked gently on its hinges. "I'm afraid I won't."

She closed the door and was gone. William walked over to the window and watched his wife as she carried her luggage down the quiet lane. Certain that, between the disillusionment spell and his preoccupied state, William wouldn't notice her, Bellatrix turned and let herself out the back door.

Out back was another perfectly manicured garden. Careful not to dirty herself on the flowers, she snuck back around to the front of the house, and caught sight of Ernestina, slowly hauling her luggage away. Keeping hidden by the trees that lined the lane, where she blended in with their leaves, Bellatrix followed Ernestina the rest of the way down the block.

When they were out of the line of sight of the Woolbright house, Bellatrix removed her own disillusionment charm, and sidled up next to the plain woman. Feeling unusually charitable, she charmed the woman's luggage, allowing the pair to walk more quickly.

Bellatrix turned to her companion, whose eyes seemed glazed over and unresponsive. "Take us somewhere dark and secluded, Ernestina." The woman followed her order to the letter, and as the last colors of the sunset faded into midnight blue, they found themselves in a wooded area past the last settled parts of town. Ernestina paused slightly, unsure whether to continue into the heavy growth, but Bellatrix glared at her. Of course she should continue on, Bellatrix thought, and Ernestina pulled up the hem of her skirt and did so.

"Lumos," Bellatrix whispered, and the tip of her wand cast a sphere of light, enough for them to see the immediate area, but no more. It was dark now, and as they ventured further into the wood, the sound of their shoes crunching the dried leaves into the earth was the only sound they could hear. Eventually, Bellatrix became convinced they were far enough from prying ears and eyes, and allowed Ernestina to stop and put down her suitcases.

Ernestina sighed, and sat leaning against the broad trunk of a tree. Bellatrix had not given her particularly comfortable walking shoes. Having seen the woman's closet, Bellatrix was surprised she would let her immaculate, if distasteful, clothing be soiled on the forest floor. Then she remembered what the other woman must be feeling, under the warm glow of the Imperius curse. While Bellatrix herself was high on the power she held over the other woman, Ernestina felt lovely and confident that nothing could go wrong in the world, as long as she obeyed her master. That's what she thought, at least.

"Finite Incantum," she whispered, sorry to let it go, but with a faint curiosity tugging at the back of her mind. A curiosity that required setting Ernestina free. The glassy, blank look in Ernestina's eyes gave way to terror and confusion at she all at once became aware of her surroundings, and then her companion.

"Crucio," Bellatrix cried suddenly. It had been an impulse, planned merely moments before, and as she watched Ernestina writhe in pain, covering her starched and ironed blouse in the thick dirt, a grin played with her face. If she had felt alive with power before, this was even more so. She watched as she controlled Ernestina in a primal and visible way. Each time she called the curse, Ernestina screamed before the pain even hit her. As it did, the screams turned lower, baser, uncontrollable, until the pain stopped, and the woman sighed and breathed, desperate for oxygen, burying her face in the ground.

Bellatrix smiled. Somewhere deep inside herself, she knew she had been told that this was wrong, but how could it be? Up until this point, her life had been nothing but an endless stream of meaningless, false monotony. With this, she felt meaning, she felt worth and control. She was doing something she enjoyed. And, oh... how she enjoyed it...

After several minutes, Bellatrix noticed that the screams were subsiding into low and desperate moans, and that Ernestina's eyes were cooler and glassier than they had been before, under the Imperius curse. They were blank, and wide-open, as if nothing lurked behind them. Bellatrix knew then that she must put away her toys and do her job. "Avada Kedavra," she cast the final spell, sighing as the helpless, dirtied woman was granted her final release.

How to eliminate all evidence? Bellatrix wondered. That was, after all, what she had been ordered to do. She had an idea, but knew it would require a rather powerful transfiguration spell. It was a risk, but she had always been good in the subject. It was the ones that required patience which vexed her back in her school days (and she gave little thought to the fact that those days were less than three months past).

Amused at her own deviousness, Bellatrix waved her wand once over the lifeless body of Ernestina Woolbright. The long pencil skirt and flowing blouse transformed themselves into a leather mini-skirt and lace-up bustier. On her feet, which were previously contained by demure pumps, clung knee-high stiletto boots. Ernestina's face was different, the eyes narrower, the lips fuller, and the complexion far more made up. When found, she would be unrecognizable.

Bellatrix kneeled over, feeling the taut leather fabric. It felt smooth, and real. She had been successful, and felt sure that the magic would last long enough. Magic wouldn't fail her tonight. She felt far too powerful.

With Ernestina Woolbright's corpse transformed into a common Muggle whore, there was only one bit of evidence left to destroy. Bellatrix picked the suitcases off the ground, and brushed the dirt, twigs and leaves, off of the old, cracked leather. She held them tightly, and disapparated.

--

She couldn't go home, not now, not with her blood flowing fast and furious against the walls of her veins, with her head lifted high, looking down upon the world, feeling like she could do, and be, anything. Returning to her childhood home, of rules and regulations, and being told what it was she should be was the last thing on earth she felt like doing. So she went elsewhere instead.

The cell was exactly as she had remembered it. Similar to her own family's dungeons, but far larger. Bellatrix had the sense that there were enough corridors and enough cages to hold at least a hundred, should that ever be necessary. Bellatrix left the cell which served as the apparition point, and walked up the stairwell that lead to the house. She released the suitcases onto the landing, and placed her hand on the bronze doorknob. She turned. Locked.

Of course! Bellatrix realized. She banged on the door, feeling the high of the past hours dissipating with each hollow thud. As she was close to giving up and returning home, dirty, and with the dead woman's suitcases, there was a crack on the step below her. She took a deep breath, trying to hold onto the adrenaline still coursing through her.

"Mistress should not make such noises," the elf squeaked.

"I am in need of your master," Bellatrix said, exasperated. She turned around, hoping to vent some of her frustration on the small creature, but it had disappeared. Instead, she dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palm. Moments later, the small creature appeared again.

"Master is coming. He was most angry at first, kicked Darby out of the room, but Darby told him it was a mistress with long hair and a dark cloak, and master came. Only gave Darby a little kick after hearing of mistress."

Bellatrix smiled, kicking the overeager elf the rest of the way down the stairs and feeling a slight twinge of her euphoria return. The door swung open, and Bellatrix found herself surprisingly happy to see him there, in his black silk pajamas, with his blonde hair pulled back from his face and tied neatly at the nape of his neck.

"Lucius," she greeted enthusiastically. No longer trapped in the Malfoy dungeons, Bellatrix felt her prior feelings of supremacy rushing back.

"You've brought suitcases," Lucius remarked.

"Oh, they're not mine. They were," Bellatrix paused. "Hers. Actually, could I leave them in the dungeons somewhere? I wouldn't want anyone to find these, just in case..."

"Absolutely." She pressed herself against the stone wall, as he passed by. She followed him down the stairs, and into a darkened corridor. With a wave of his hand, candles ensconced on the walls flickered on, and she saw that he was holding a large iron key chain. He let her into one of the cells at the end of the hall, and she left the suitcases there. Should anyone find them, it would already be too late, either for the discoverer, or for Lucius and Bellatrix's cause.

The last bit of evidence from her earlier deeds safely locked away in the Malfoy dungeons, Bellatrix followed Lucius back upstairs, into the meeting room where she had met the rest of them just a few days ago. Now, she knew, she would be back, having proven her worth to the cause.

"You're dirty," commented Lucius, as he shut the door behind him, checking to make sure it was securely latched. He turned back to her, and with an enchanting touch of gentleness, murmured "Scourgify," and the dirt disappeared from her face and hair. He gracefully lowered his wand, and her robes returned to their unstained black.

It bothered Bellatrix slightly that, in the face of all she had just done, he should comment on her appearance. She was, however, glad to be rid of the dingy feeling of the earth beneath her fingers and knotted into her hair. "It's a dirty job, Lucius."

"Yes, yes. So it is. How did the job go, then?"

"Marvelously. He believed every word she said, and was rather despondent about it, she will be unrecognizable once found, and I, most importantly, thoroughly enjoyed myself."

He narrowed his eyes and looked down at her. "Enjoyed yourself, Bellatrix?"

She leaned against the polished table behind her. "Are you surprised by that?"

"No, no," he marveled. "Come to think of it, I should have expected. That in itself explains several things, I should think."

While she did not like the idea that he felt able to categorize and describe her, she knew her enigmatic air would never have lasted. "Am I no longer a woman of mystery, then?" she asked with a haughty smile.

"I think you're a woman of something else entirely."

"Of what then?" she asked, impatient to hear if he would actually reveal what he thought of her. She was, above all else, impatient.

He moved closer to her, and she felt the edge of the table pressing up against the small of her back as he leaned into her. A sense of anticipation welled within her, though she did not know what she was waiting for. "Cruelty," he said finally, running his long index finger along the edge of her forehead. "Power," he continued, bringing his other hand to the other side of her face. "A woman who has found her calling," he finished, combing the fingers of each hand through her tangled hair.

"Ouch!" she quickly shrieked as he caught his hands in the knots that had developed over the course of the evening.

"I'm sorry, Bellatrix," he said, with a note of false kindness in his voice. Letting his lids drop down, reducing his gray eyes to narrow slits, he spoke in a near whisper. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"I liked what I did to her, yes," Bellatrix answered. It was the truth, though she was quite sure it was not the answer to his question. What of it, she thought, as she did not particularly feel like answering the one he had asked.

He raised his eyelids again, and let his open eyes bore straight into hers. He let his fingers drift down her hair, feeling the tug, and her slight quiver. "But did you like what I did to you?"

"You haven't done anything to me, have you, Lucius?"