Her touch sent a cold shiver down his body, one that was unexpected but not unwelcome. He followed her with his eyes as she bent over the man and then, when she stepped back, he nodded at her command.
For a moment only he paused, thinking of the boy upstairs, hiding, praying, or perhaps watching them somehow. He would survive if he was wily. But there was no help for these two.
"Avada Kedavra." It was a whisper, a caress, far more than his own parents had received, and her pain was ending, as lovely as it had been.
He had uttered the words without thought, the green light flickering through the kitchen, and then... nothing.
She was dead and he had killed, a cold, nearly unbelievable and wicked sense of want and pleasure jolted through him at the sheer power of it.
"Your will be done," he said, looking up at Bellatrix and giving her a cold smile. He stepped over the body, ushering his Mistress out before him, knowing the boy would find the bodies, cry, mourn. He wasn't certain he could kill a child. But who knew. Anything, he supposed, was possible now.