dardeile:

AU | Harry Potter
Bellamort as “500 days of Summer Winter”

“This is a story of girl meets man.

The man, Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton, grew up believing he’d never be happy until the day he purged the world of the unworthy. This belief stemmed from early exposure to the Dark Arts and an absolute devotion to Salazar Slytherin’s values.

The girl, Bellatrix Black of London, shared his belief. Since she could figure out that the reason behind her parents’ marriage was not love, she’d only loved two things. The first was her wild, dark hair. The second was how easily she could destroy things and feel nothing.

Tom meets Bellatrix on August eleventh. He knows, almost immediately, she is who he’d been searching for. 

This is a story of girl meets man. But you should know upfront, this is not a love story.”

(Source: houselannister, via blackriddle)

Bella morte. Beautiful death.

(Source: writemudblood, via blackriddle)

Death brought us together, at last.

screaming in the dark, i howl when we’re apart
drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart
[x]

(Source: bellamortentia)

She is a plaything, he decided, nothing more. [x]

(Source: bellamortentia)

(via letsgotowonderland)

blackriddle:

Bellatrix appeared in a swirl of charcoal dust, her hair disheveled and her black skirts billowing around her. The Dark Lord had no qualms about her late arrival; having told her to take her time when he left her in his bed. She received many reproachful glances as she strode across the dew-spattered ground, curtsying lightly as she approached their Lord.

She stood on tip-toes and whispered a devilish secret in his ear, making a smirks grace his lips, before taking her place in front of the other Death Eaters. Voldemort took a moment to compose himself before announcing his latest plan of attack.

Bellatrix cackled, revelling in the seething of his other followers. She was no longer just a subservient Death Eater; she was much more. Always his most faithful servant and his right hand, she now meant even more since she took charge in their bedchamber that morning and let him be her servant.

He was less her master; she was more his equal. She meant more to him than anyone else, and her whispered ‘i love you’ still resonated in his ears.

blackriddle:

target my heart,
hit me every time.