GDI, I WASN'T GOING TO DO THIS ONE. Then I went and poked around and found your fanmix and a;likjsdf;lkjasdf;lkj.
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He's gone to one of the crumbling towers of the Manor, gone to heal his wounds and blast the doves, their white feathers drifting down into the specks of blood dripping from his cheeks and chin. He's cursing Potter, Granger, Weasley, cursing them each with a heavy grunt as he paces and dashes the blood from his skin, and when he turns, Bella's there. She smiles at him, pointed teeth scraping over her lip, and she spins until her gown slaps his legs, and then her hands are on his cheeks and she's shoved him into the wall. That's it, Draco, she coos to him, brushing his fringe back as she comes up on her toes to meet his eyes, grey to grey. That's it. Hate them. Hate them with everything you have.
He freezes, his heart racing, because he thinks she'll know he's lied, but when she lowers her lashes and her eyes glimmer through the dark fans, he doesn't feel the cold brush of her mind across his. No Legilimency, no looking into his thoughts, only her breath on his throat and her hand on his chest and her tongue on his cheek. She's licking away the blood, his blood, their blood. The shared blood that runs through them both like the river into hell and madness, and Draco remembers one of the first lessons he ever learned.
Blood will always call to blood.
Bella's full of bloodlust and madness and she's always watching him. He's known all along that she isn't right, that something had broken inside her when she went to Azkaban, that the years on a cold island in a stone prison have shattered something in her mind. He's known all along that the soft touches to his shoulder and the firm grasp on his hand aren't the simple affections of an aunt for a nephew. He's known all along that the heat of her breath on his ear, that the press of her breast on his arm, that the weight of her gaze on his eyes isn't normal. But it's been so long since he's known what normal is that he can't bring himself to care.
Bella is licking the blood off his cheek and her breath is hot and her breasts are soft and before he can decide what to do, he's done it. He snaps his arms up and hauls her close, slams her thin body against his and bends to shove his mouth against her bloodstained lips. He tears at her mouth with the points of his teeth until her lips split and their mouths are full of blood. His blood, her blood, their blood. Her blood is hot in his mouth and her body is hot under his hands and he's been cold for so, so long.
He pushes her away and she's laughing, laughing at him, her hands cupping her breasts and her tongue slicking her lips. Draco shoves off the wall and snares her. He grabs the neckline of her dress and hauls it off her shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides. Dusk-tipped breasts are round beneath his palms, solid nipples hard in his pinching fingers. Bella laughs and frees her arms and her hands slip into his hair. She pushes the blood from his cheeks up his temples, staining the white strands with red, and she grabs fistfuls of hair to drag him to his knees. Draco swears and grabs her hips because he'll kneel for his master but for no one else. He jerks Bella down, pushes her to the floor on her belly, and clambers on top of her, grabbing her wrists. She's laughing, writhing under him, her head thrown back and her hair in his face. Her fingers stiffen like claws as she struggles and Draco slams her hands against the stones. Again and again as she bucks under him, until he feels something crack in her wrist. Bella shrieks and snaps her head back, her skull cracking against his forehead.
Bellatrix/Draco - Could you live with this? 1/2
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He's gone to one of the crumbling towers of the Manor, gone to heal his wounds and blast the doves, their white feathers drifting down into the specks of blood dripping from his cheeks and chin. He's cursing Potter, Granger, Weasley, cursing them each with a heavy grunt as he paces and dashes the blood from his skin, and when he turns, Bella's there. She smiles at him, pointed teeth scraping over her lip, and she spins until her gown slaps his legs, and then her hands are on his cheeks and she's shoved him into the wall. That's it, Draco, she coos to him, brushing his fringe back as she comes up on her toes to meet his eyes, grey to grey. That's it. Hate them. Hate them with everything you have.
He freezes, his heart racing, because he thinks she'll know he's lied, but when she lowers her lashes and her eyes glimmer through the dark fans, he doesn't feel the cold brush of her mind across his. No Legilimency, no looking into his thoughts, only her breath on his throat and her hand on his chest and her tongue on his cheek. She's licking away the blood, his blood, their blood. The shared blood that runs through them both like the river into hell and madness, and Draco remembers one of the first lessons he ever learned.
Blood will always call to blood.
Bella's full of bloodlust and madness and she's always watching him. He's known all along that she isn't right, that something had broken inside her when she went to Azkaban, that the years on a cold island in a stone prison have shattered something in her mind. He's known all along that the soft touches to his shoulder and the firm grasp on his hand aren't the simple affections of an aunt for a nephew. He's known all along that the heat of her breath on his ear, that the press of her breast on his arm, that the weight of her gaze on his eyes isn't normal. But it's been so long since he's known what normal is that he can't bring himself to care.
Bella is licking the blood off his cheek and her breath is hot and her breasts are soft and before he can decide what to do, he's done it. He snaps his arms up and hauls her close, slams her thin body against his and bends to shove his mouth against her bloodstained lips. He tears at her mouth with the points of his teeth until her lips split and their mouths are full of blood. His blood, her blood, their blood. Her blood is hot in his mouth and her body is hot under his hands and he's been cold for so, so long.
He pushes her away and she's laughing, laughing at him, her hands cupping her breasts and her tongue slicking her lips. Draco shoves off the wall and snares her. He grabs the neckline of her dress and hauls it off her shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides. Dusk-tipped breasts are round beneath his palms, solid nipples hard in his pinching fingers. Bella laughs and frees her arms and her hands slip into his hair. She pushes the blood from his cheeks up his temples, staining the white strands with red, and she grabs fistfuls of hair to drag him to his knees. Draco swears and grabs her hips because he'll kneel for his master but for no one else. He jerks Bella down, pushes her to the floor on her belly, and clambers on top of her, grabbing her wrists. She's laughing, writhing under him, her head thrown back and her hair in his face. Her fingers stiffen like claws as she struggles and Draco slams her hands against the stones. Again and again as she bucks under him, until he feels something crack in her wrist. Bella shrieks and snaps her head back, her skull cracking against his forehead.