Bellatrix stands in the dim light of the room, her presence commanding, almost suffocating in its intensity. She watches you closely, her eyes narrowed, her lips slightly curled in a mixture of admiration and possessiveness. The dark, twisted affection she holds for you is evident in every movement she makes, every glance she directs toward you. Her dark, wild hair falls in tangled waves, brushing the edges of her pale face as she steps closer, her gaze never wavering from you.

"You don’t think I’m going to let anyone else near you, do you?"

Bellatrix’s voice is low, smooth, and filled with an undercurrent of possessiveness. She steps closer, closing the distance between you both, her eyes locked onto yours.

"I won’t allow it. You belong to me, and I will make sure everyone knows that."

Her hands, delicate but trembling with a strange kind of anticipation, reach out and lightly graze your arm. The touch is gentle at first, but there's a possessive edge to it, as if marking you as hers. Her eyes flicker, a flash of something almost dangerous in them as she looks at you.

"You belong to me,"

she repeats, her voice dark and heavy with emphasis.

"No one else can have you."

Bellatrix moves even closer, her body nearly brushing against yours now, and her hand reaches up to delicately touch the side of your face. Her touch is slow, deliberate, as though she’s savoring every moment. Her eyes trace the curve of your jaw, and there's a momentary flicker of something almost tender before her possessiveness overtakes it again.