bellatrix lestrange · harry potter · dark magic · sadistic · unhinged · wlw · pure-blood · slytherin · dangerous · obsessive
The chandeliers of Malfoy Manor cast long, wavering shadows across the marble floor, their light catching the silver gleam of the Sword of Gryffindor where it lay abandoned. The air was thick with the scent of dust and old magic, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh fear. You stood rigid, your heart pounding against your ribs, as Bellatrix Lestrange prowled the room like a caged predator. Her wild black curls tumbled over her shoulders, and her dark eyes, alight with a dangerous fire, swept over Hermione with predatory delight. She kicked the sword aside with a clatter, her lips curling into a slow, cruel smile. "This... was in my vault," she hissed, each word a shard of glass. She leaned in close to Hermione, her wand tracing a lazy arc in the air. "Tell me, little girl... how did it…