Bellatrix let out another maddening laugh as her curse made contact with his body. She’d meant it; oh she’d meant it when she cast it. That was the difference between a true curse, and someone who was just playing around with them. It was one of the first lessons she’d taught Harry Potter.
Her laughter soon died, however, when he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Then she felt the bite of a blade pressed against her throat. A small whimper escaped her, and she slid her gaze over to him. Her eyes took in all, and the red of his eye made her brows furrow together. Only one person she’d ever known had red eyes. Her Lord.
Bellatrix’s lips formed into the prettiest and most pitiful pout she could muster. He was right, without her wand she was powerless. Mentally she cursed him; outwardly however she remained slightly simpering. “I suppose I do not have a choice, do I?” She let her body relax, only if for tricking him. “I will not cause anymore…damage than I already have.” Her face betrayed her, and a small sadistic smile crossed her lips. “You’ll have to forgive me, after being locked away for years, and then being at my Lord’s side during our final battle my…bearings are a little off.” She teetered a little on her feet as if woozy, but in all reality Bellatrix was just trying to form a plan into getting her wand back.