disclaimer : I am not J.K Rowling. The characters belong to her.

warning :A Bellatrix x Rodolphus piece. :D

part 2 : for the lack of a better word

He had always been fascinated by how ink from his quill spreads to the paper, and the paper soaks it in, with the precision of how he wanted to mold his words. Rabastan scratches the quill onto the paper impatiently and the noise irritates him, his brother has absolutely no subtlety.

No artistry,for the lack of a better word.
It is precisely how he sees his first kill, a mudblood, mouth open and blue in the snow and the blood seeping to the whiteness in precision, like ink on paper and he watches, curiously satisfied. Carefully violent without the need of the Killing Curse, which was too quick and too easy. Too callous, he supposes, to not enjoy the handiwork, to extend the period between life and death, when the knowledge is bright in victim's eyes and he knows he has the power to take that light away.

He supposes this is why Bellatrix catches his attention,even though she is much younger than he is. "Call me Bellatrix," she said to him in a haughty voice, but he smirks a little before he calls her, "Bella".
She is angered by his impudence, not at all threatened by his age,height or countenance, and he supposed there is something to be said about that.

There is a purity in her, like the whiteness of snow and paper, so willing to soak the darkness in, that she is drawn to those who would give it to her, and not wait passively to be inked. He teaches her the Dark Arts, and she latches onto him, like leech, sucking all the darkness from him, and she doesn't know how much of it will be enough for her to soak in. He supposes its love, for the lack of the better word, what they both share but she wants more than him.
She doesn't have the patience nor the articulation to say she loves him, because neither he or she are sure what they both share, but they call it love, for the lack of a better word.

He introduces her to the Dark Lord, and while she and he are equals, the Dark lord is superior to them both, and Bellatrix who was teetering on the edge of more, finally finds herself subserviant to one man who she'd give her all.
The light he wanted from her, so inaccessible to him, even in her fury and passion, she'd surrender it all, lay it all out like pearls falling from strings of a broken necklace on the floor, at the Dark Lord's feet. The Dark lord is rather amused by this, by her devotion and the jealousy he tries to suppress.
He had known all along that Bella can live with an equal, but Bella must live for something else.
Something that drives her being, and makes her blood flow in one direction rather spilling it in an ordered chaos because Bella is always chasing more.

Rodolphus hears himself laugh for a long,long time when he hears Bella a cell away from him, challenging the Dementor to Kiss her. "Take it away!" she was shrieking, a command and desperation and challenge. "Take it away but I'll still remain behind! It will never be yours!"

He doesn't doubt it, he thinks with a sort of cruel amusement, because something has so terribly lodged within the labrynith that was Bellatrix, and he remembers their first kiss, when she whispered, looking so much like Narcissa when she did it, "Is there a way I can forget my sister? How can she hurt me this way?"
"Coquetry does not suit you, Bella" he told her,laughing. "If you want me to kiss you, you can ask."
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her neck, and she said, eyes shut, "Take it away"
"No"he told her. "Pain is power. When you can command your own pain, you will learn to command others's. The next time you feel pain, it won't be yours. You will feel only power."
She nods against his chest and he feels, for the moment and only for that fleeting moment, the picture is complete, the paper is done.
Just Bellatrix and Rodolphus, embracing in the snow.

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