This is my response to Day 11 of Sinistra Black's "Sheherazad/Day By Day" challenge. There is a hint of Bellamort if you put it underneath a microscope.

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So many of his followers were gone, and astonishingly few remained. Pure, magical blood had been wasted as the Death Eaters fell, one by one, to the ground. Dying had never looked so easy, so completely natural to Bellatrix. Peaceful. Cold. But He needed her: the Dark Lord was relying upon her strength.

Briefly Bellatrix cast her eyes along the hall to see Lord Voldemort casting a series of complex hexes, demonstrating the talent that caused her to worship him. A blaze of green claimed one life, magnificent flames another. As He whirled to meet an opponent, the dark cloak flaring out behind him, their eyes met for the briefest of moments. The Dark Lord would never accept her help, yet he offered Bellatrix his. She felt the raw power of his wrath energise her tired body and stood straighter, eager for him to see that as the others fell she would stand tall beside him until the end, whatever it may be.

Refusing to give in to the exhaustion coursing through her veins like a sedative, Bellatrix fought with a fury that outstripped any previous unleashing of her power. She sliced, butchered and crippled Potter's followers with a pleasure heightened by the knowledge that everything was at stake. More and more fell at her hand, and despite her manic zeal the battle was taking its toll on Bellatrix. Never had she been overly fond of her comrades, but in their absence it occurred to her that perhaps without their aid nothing was certain any more. Casting a shield charm and cursing a student, Bellatrix took the opportunity to take another affirmative glance at the Dark Lord.

This time he was farther away and engaged in a duel with three others. His back was to her. Bellatrix whimpered but did not allow herself to feel fear. I will master death. Where the Dark Lord went, Bellatrix Lestrange followed, and if he would not die then neither would she. In a parallel of His actions, Bellatrix engaged the three little witches in a duel. They lacked her ferocity, and they lacked her strength, but all three were young and it showed in the force they put behind their curses. Bellatrix was no longer young. The circle of life dictated that she would fall first. Tell me Bellatrix, do you believe that the natural order will prevail? A trickle of sweat rolled down her cheek, or was it blood?

All three of the girls fell back, Molly Weasley taking their place and attacking Bellatrix with vigour. Her life, and therein the wellbeing of the Dark Lord was on the line, but the laughter swelled up inside Bellatrix until she thought it would choke her. He was still fighting, but they swarmed around him like dogs trying to destroy a lion. When she was a child Bellatrix had laughed in the dead of night; she had thrown back her head and opened her mouth in a scream of mirth until sleep had claimed her.

As the green glow had sped towards her, Bellatrix wondered at first if she was so tired that she was hallucinating. Many times she had used the killing curse- more times than she could remember. Let your rage out, Bellatrix. Share in my anger. She turned to see Him, but the Dark Lord was no longer visible. Gone. She couldn't move. Bellatrix allowed the night to envelope her senses as she arched backwards, falling to the ground. Soon He too would come to find her, carried away on the wind.

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