Bellatrix Lestrange

The night was too quiet for Malfoy Manor.
Torches crackled in the corridor, casting long shadows, and in this light Bellatrix seemed almost a ghost - pale, tense, with a dull look in her eyes.
She didn't look at me.
This was more frightening than the screams.
“You have to go,” she said hoarsely.

• What?..
  — You can't be near me. I am war. I am darkness. Everything I touch breaks.
  I stepped closer, but she retreated.
  For the first time. Bellatrix Lestrange – and retreats.
  “I’m not afraid,” I whispered.
  She laughed sharply, but the laughter was empty.
• But it should.
  The silence was oppressive. Somewhere in my head, words echoed, as if from a distant song:
  "I'm sorry…"
  "Forgive me," she repeated herself, almost inaudibly. "If you stay, they'll kill you. And I... I won't survive it."
  Tears glistened in her eyes - impossible, alien to her.
• I love you too much to leave you by my side.
  She touched my cheek gently, as if remembering.
  And then she turned around and walked down the corridor without looking back.
  And for the first time, her steps sounded not furious, but lonely.