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Shimmer (alyxbradford) (10 July)
bonfire rose
alyxbradford wrote in 30_hath
Title: Shimmer
Author: alyxbradford
House: Slytherin
Date/Challenge: 10 July – Ill met by moonlight
Characters: Sirius, Bellatrix
Rating: PG
Word Count: 414

She shimmers.

There's just no other word for it, and she shouldn't. She ought to absorb all light, drag it down into her fathomless depths, but instead... she shimmers.

Shimmers, and in the moonlight, I can see there's that devilish glint in her eyes, the look she gets when she's on the hunt.

Strange, that a wolf should be the prey.

It doesn't work that way in the wild. But then, in the wild, there isn't a third party.

I'm here, between the vixen and her goal. A dangerous position, which no sane creature would choose. But then, I was never burdened with an overabundance of good sense.

She's out for blood. Literally. Just yesterday, Lily intercepted the message that contained their latest plans. She's out shopping. The list of ingredients is blood-curdling, and I'm happier not knowing what she's already gathered up this night. But I know what she needs, and I know I'm to stand in her way.

A second glint matches the one firing off of her obsidian eyes: a silver dagger at her belt, next to the sheath that holds her wand. I'm surprised, knowing she rarely resorts to such mundane instruments, until I see the runes, glowing faintly blue along the flat of the blade. Of course, it would be something extraordinary. With Bella, it always is.

A rune-inscribed dagger, to draw the blood of a werewolf during the hour of midnight on a full moon.

If I didn't know her better -- so well -- I'd think she'd finally gone completely mad, to willingly approach a fully-grown werewolf during the height of his frenzy. But Bellatrix isn't crazy; she's honestly, sincerely fearless.

Maybe that's where the glow comes from.

Of course, it had to be me. And her. If it had been James out here, no doubt someone else would have been sent in her stead. But we seem fated to meet like this, again and again, in darkened streets or abandoned alleys or, like tonight, moonlit fields.

She knows I'm here, and like the true predator she is, remains still and silent until the opportune moment to strike. It's the only time she can ever be that way, the only time her perpetual motion slows, the only time her tempest can be leashed.

I can almost hear her think, maddeningly, hear her words from months ago echoing in my head: 'Coward.'

The shimmer shifts in the grass, and betrays her movement. She springs, and so must I.


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