Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Her face is bathed in the soft light from the candles, giving the appearance of peaceful sleep. Shadows dancing on the wall, an eerie laugh filling the silence. Eyes closed, lips parted, hair lying on the floor in handfuls, chest bared, and thighs covered in the sticky redness of dirty blood. A doll has fallen on the floor beside her bed, her screams and pleas for mercy still echoing in the silence, combining with the husky, crazed laughter in a symphony of darkness and death.


Bellatrix laughs as they dance for their unseeing audience. Stepping away from Rodolphus, she moves to the child’s bedside once again. Pretty little girl, not yet received her Hogwarts invitation. Elegant fingers move along the deep wounds on the child’s chest and stomach, spreading the drying blood until barely any pale skin is seen through the haze of red. Removing the blade currently implanted between the Mudblood’s thighs, she licks it clean, letting the blood drip into her mouth, savoring her kill.


Spying the doll on the floor, she is reminded of one she has seen while visiting her sister recently. A pretty little doll for the pretty, perfect little baby Narcissa is carrying. Kicking it away from the bed, she smiles with satisfaction as it hits the leg of the table and shatters. Broken doll. Never put back together again.


She turns, stalking towards the man who became her husband not long ago. He is fastening the rope around their victims, presenting them perfectly for the aurors who will be arriving soon. They are both artists, masterful with spells and blades. Separately, they are deadly. Together, they are perfection.


Standing when she reaches him, his hand grips her arm, pulling her against him. Knowing what she wants, what she needs, his lips crash down on hers, devouring her. She struggles, wanting to push him away even as she pulls him closer. He licks away the blood of her victims, biting her tongue and lips, her blood warm and wet as it replaces the dirty blood she has consumed. Her fingers grip his dark hair, tugging, pulling, her leg going behind his as she rubs against him.


She is the one that pulls away first, having control even now when there is fear that he will consume her and there will be nothing of herself left. She laughs when she sees his broken lip behind the mask, hand squeezing his erection before she brushes past him, letting him know that she leads and he follows. He hates it, his breath inhaling in a sharp hiss that sends tremors of excitement and anticipation throughout her body.


She makes two steps into the alley before he is there, shoving her against the wall. Gone is the slight tenderness that he has displayed since their wedding every time they start their games, gone is the man she can control with a caress and laugh. This is what she wants, what she needs, what she craves. This is the man who completes her, who fills the void and makes her world whole. She does not want love and affection, the tender caresses her sister and Malfoy exchange when they are unaware anyone is watching. She wants this. Hate, loathing, need, to feel him inside her, his hands rough on her skin, using her and giving her everything she craves. It is not love. It is the most delicious hate in the world.


He makes the Dark Mark in the sky above as his arm pins her against the wall, the dirty alley suddenly lit by the bright light. She stares at the Mark, her smile cruel and satisfied beneath her mask. Their Lord will be pleased. Hands rip her robe open, her body shoved more roughly against the brick wall behind her, her mask falling to the wet ground as he grips her chin roughly, pulling her attention from their Lord’s Mark to focus on him. She laughs at the fury and jealousy in his eyes, knowing he will never be to her what their Lord is, angering him even more by her reaction. Good. She loves his anger, his hate, his desire.


His mask is removed, falling beside hers, his teeth biting her neck as his fingernails scratch her chest. Squeezing her breasts painfully, twisting her hard nipples, his body allowing her no movement as she writhes beneath him. Her hands tangle in his thick black hair, guiding his movements even as he believes himself to have control. He releases himself from his trousers, not bothering to remove her knickers. The fabric against her wet cunt shoved to the side before he enters her, thrusting in completely, her body hitting the hard wall behind her as he begins to move, brutally taking her in the way they both need.


Her fingernails dig into his back as he fucks her, his mouth biting and sucking her skin, punishing her for making him desire her. His hate feeds her hunger, making her crave even more. Want him. Need him. She laughs, the sound husky in the silent night air, her head hitting the wall when his hand covers her mouth.


“Be silent,” he hisses as he fucks her hard, his eyes not leaving hers as he keeps his hand over her mouth. Her legs wrap around his waist, her tongue licking his palm, her actions letting him know she is amused by his demand.


She arches her back, muscles tightening around him, laughing against his hand as he growls before kissing her. This is still new, too intimate, an act she finds frightening. Biting his tongue, she scratches his neck, his back, his blood spilling between them as she sucks his tongue eagerly.


His mouth moves, a small whine escaping her lips. His blood still on her tongue as he fucks her into the alley wall. His hate drives him, her robes tearing from the force in which she is rubbing against the brick, her cunt clenching around him as she uses him.


“Whore,” he snarls in her ear as he comes, groaning softly as his seed spills into her. His hand moves down her body, his voice amused as he queries, “How badly do you want to come, Bella? What would you do for that sweet release?”


His voice causes her to tremor with pleasure, barely noticeable but she knows even if he does not. Dark as the night, husky and deep, it haunts her dreams, making her wet and yearning. She does not need him, does not want him. It is his hate, his desire, his need that she craves. It is not him. She bites his neck in response, hearing him laugh against her ear.


“I think I shall leave you like this, Bella. Desperate for me, willing to do anything for what you crave.”


“I hate you,” she growls even as her body moves more eagerly against his, grinding against him, his spent cock still inside her. The aurors will be arriving soon, the heightened excitement of possibly being caught something they share every time they take this risk by fucking amongst their victims.


“I hate you more,” he sneers as his hand moves between them, fingers finding her clit and twisting roughly. She comes with a low cry, cursing him under her breath even as her body still shudders from her orgasm.


Her legs slide from around his waist, her eyes burning with hatred and desire as she looks at him, her mouth attacking his to remove the smug smile present on his full lips. Pushing him away, she moves as he reaches for her, avoiding his grip as she picks up her mask. Seeing the longing and craving in his eyes, she runs her fingernail down his cheek, drawing blood as she laughs softly.


The End