onyx armour for my eyes.

“Maybe I can bore you to inspire you then,” he said with a grin. “Shall I go through every conversation I had tonight? Luckily for you I haven’t had many since I tend to avoid conversation if I can help it.” Part of him wondered why he even showed to the ball at all. Reputation he supposed.

“If you must know,” he said, pausing for effect. “Since our last conversation has proven you’re quite a gossip…” He glanced at her before continuing. “I may plan to go home with someone if it goes my way. Truly the only interesting thing about tonight.”

“You’re quite the bad influence, Antonin,” she says, quite amused. “But please spare me the details. I’d hate to murder you on the spot because you’re boring me. I’m quite eager to keep you in my life.” Bellatrix chuckles then. “I’ve been trying to avoid conversations, but some people don’t really get the hint when they approach me. I try so hard to look unapproachable, and yet ...” She shakes her head. “Having a powerful surname isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.”

Mary flinched away from Bellatrix’s touch and her eyes narrowed at her words. Her mouth had gone dry, though and any snippy response she might have made had faded from her mind. How many times had she been victim to a little ‘accident’? That was Freya’s modus operandi, so crafted that nobody would ever believe her if she tried to tell (not that she ever would and Freya knew that perfectly well). She could hardly believe that Bellatrix wasn’t choosing her words carefully to make sure Mary knew exactly what could befall her. When she took another step back, she collided with the sink behind her. She was trying to convince herself that her friends would worry but there was a chance none of them would even notice. She hadn’t been able to find any of them before she came here, else she wouldn’t even be alone. What if they were all distracted with their dates and other friends and the food and it took them too long to remember that Mary had been there? It was the first time she had been to something like this in years, after all. They weren’t used to looking out for her at them.

Peter would notice, she told herself, but then she had told him quite explicitly that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without a friend. He would probably assume she was with Gilderoy, or maybe seen her with Bertram and figured despite the rocky history at least she would be safe with Bertram. Bellatrix hadn’t even done anything and if it weren’t Mary in this situation, there to interpret her words in the worst possible way, it would probably seem like a ridiculous reaction. Had she even said anything incriminating? It was all in tone and look and Mary’s habit of jumping to conclusions. “If… If you want to chat, maybe we can go and get a table out there.” Let Sirius see her with his cousin. Perhaps he would know if it was worth worrying about or not.

Bellatrix watches Mary with sharp eyes and with every inch the other moves away from her, she feels her power grow. She must remember not to get swallowed up by it, to not want to exercise her power to its full extent. It’d be unfortunate, after all, if a dead body in the bathroom was somehow traced back to her. She tries not to think of red blood staining the white tiles, and in stead focuses on Mary bumping into the sink, Mary trying to talk her way out of this, naive enough to believe that she would let her go so easily. Bellatrix liked naivete, but she did wish the other had a little more fight in her. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be found dead chatting with the likes of you in public,” Bellatrix says, making it clear that she finds the suggestion nothing short of ridiculous. She takes a step towards Mary. “You’re friends with Sirius, are you not? Tell me, how is my dear cousin?” Another person Bellatrix would like to see dead at her hands, but again she tells herself to be patient. One day, her day will come, to exact her revenge. They will all pay. For now, she’ll just set some things in motion. “He’s always had rather terrible taste in friends, I’ve found. Prewetts, ... that Potter boy.” A smile. “Mudbloods, like yourself.” She pulls up her gown, curls her fingers around the knife strapped to her thigh. She leaves her wand. She twirls it between her fingers, but does nothing, not yet. “I’m sure he’s told you a thing or two about me. Let me assure you, that whatever picture he’s painted of his oldest cousin is nothing compared to the truth.” She sighs, smiles. “Though I’m hardly here to speak about Sirius. I’m mostly curious about you, Mary, and your potential usefulness.”

It was rare that Thea and Bella got to spend time outside of death eater commitments these days. She didn’t mind too much. She loved creating chaos with her best friend. The pair were extremely talented in the dark arts, and she loved getting to use her favourite spells with her friend. But she had to admit that she was looking forward to actually spending a evening drinking wine and relaxing with Bella. It was different, but she knew it was well needed. The world was in chaos at the moment, and sometimes Thea just had to get away from it all.

She grinned as she opened the door to reveal her friend. “It’s called a warming charm you know dear” She teased, pulling the door open further, to allow Bellatrix to step into her house. She shut the door behind her, and moved back through to the lounge. “I got some of our favourite wine from Italy just for the evening, Lucky you.”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes, unamused at the other’s comment. She isn’t in a mood where she’s particularly receptive of suggestions. “It’s called being a good host, you know, and not forcing your guests to have to resort to such things,” she says in return, and it’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s something sharp to her words nonetheless. 

She moves through Thea’s place, peeling off her gloves and cloak. “Ah, you do know how to treat a woman, don’t you?” Bellatrix gives the other a smile, then, and there’s a hint of true warmth to it. Her warmth, however, has always been more like fiendfyre than that of a fireplace. “Do tell me, how have you been? Haven’t seen much of you since that disaster of a ball.”

It was a lie and yet, if there was any holiday Rodolphus would associate with his wife, it was Halloween. Not the candy or the skimpy costumes, perhaps, but the dark sort of mischief. But she didn’t need Halloween for that. Rather than musing on that aloud, he said, “I certainly prefer it to other holidays. Like Easter, for example.” His face contorted with a small grimace and his mind jumped back to last Easter when he’d been terribly out of place in dark robes amidst pastel festivities. He hoped the Dark Lord didn’t plan a repeat for next year.

“Which is something I’ve always admired about you,” he said, the bartender stepping away from them to fill their orders. This time, he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t even a half truth, not really. Many would scoff at how their marriage worked but frankly, he appreciated it. He’d never wanted a wife who couldn’t think for herself – who couldn’t take what she wanted. Theirs was a loveless match, but it wasn’t unequal the way that would’ve been.

After holding Bellatrix’s gaze for a moment, he looked away, just in time for the bartender to return with their drinks. “Thank you,” he said to them, accepting his drink.

She wrinkles her nose. “Christmas is by far the worst,” she says. Bellatrix does, however, think that the winter holidays make for an excellent time to rip some families apart. Time the grieving in a way that they can never enjoy their presents again. Perhaps she’ll suggest it, next meeting. “Besides, are we not much too sinful to busy ourselves with such Christian holidays? Halloween, at least, fits people like us better.”

Bellatrix considers his words for a moment, and wonders if – for once – there is some truth about it. She holds a certain amount of respect for Rodolphus, mostly for his ruthlessness and devotion and sharp mind, and she’s quite sure he respects her in some ways, too. Perhaps the reason they don’t love each other is because the world would not be able to handle it, she muses with a small smirk. “Why thank you. I’m very lucky to have a husband who’s able to admire such things about me.” 

She takes her drink, and looks at Rodolphus. “No need to thank me.” And then, to solidify their wonderful performance, she gives him a kiss on his cheek.

Freya’s smile grew as Bellatrix cursed.  She liked it when people got agitated.  It was fun – whether she was going to provoke them into deeper agitation or gently suggest they use that agitation as fuel for something more exciting fully depended on the person.  “Oh,” she looked down at her dress and smiled.  “Thank you so much.  I picked the mask first, and this just seemed to fit the look that I was going for.”  If she were sitting with someone else she might consider reaching out and touching their dress, but she valued keeping all of her fingers and Bellatrix seemed to be in quite the foul mood.

“Wouldn’t that be funny?  Maybe a splash of the punch might make the suit a bit more stylish,” she shrugged.  It was unlikely.  “Or maybe she should just burn it.”  At Bellatrix’s suggestion she grinned.  There were few people she trusted to engage in the exciting sort of chaos as much as she did Bellatrix.  “Of course.  Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, you made quite a good choice,” Bellatrix says, already having lost interest in the conversation. Her attention span is growing shorter and shorter these days, especially in moments that are not stimulating enough. To others, an event like this might stimulate them plenty, but Bellatrix has grown up with such glitz and glamour. It’s just more of the same bullshit. People wearing masks, but not the ones that allow them to set the world aflame, not the one that she wishes she could don, now.

“We could always help her trip,” she says. “I’m afraid that I’m so bored that I’m willing to return to schoolyard bullying.” Bellatrix chuckles, reaches for a wand. “Accidents happen so easily, do they not? It’s part of human nature to be clumsy.” She looks around, then points her wand at a waiter under the table, sending an nonverbal tricking jinx his. He falls, face flat, the champagne flutes seeming to hang in the air for a moment before it all crashes down. The sound of glass breaking is like music to her ears. “Like I said ... humans, so very clumsy.”

Honestly, while she didn’t know Bellatrix well, she had always thought the older woman was more brawn than she was brains.  Maybe Mia had misjudged her – not that that was particularly good news.  She’d made it to this point in the Death Eaters by outthinking those around her.  Crazy and smart was going to be tough.  “That makes a lot of sense,” she nodded.  “Probably where your experience is so helpful.  My instinct would have been to wait until it was a bit less likely to run into trouble, but I suppose that we wouldn’t want for him to flee altogether.  Seems as though cowardice might be a Buchanon family trait.”  She internally apologized to Isaac.  She didn’t think he was a coward at all, but right now her priority was maintaining her cover and potentially getting Bellatrix on her side.  “I’m looking forward to learning from you.”

She nodded slowly, carefully, as she internalized Bellatrix’s words.  Did it count of she had to hurt someone?  For the greater good?  She really hoped not, but she would do it if she needed to.  She reached out and took Bellatrix’s arm, grateful for her years of playing the part.  Her hands were calm and steady, directly opposed to how she was feeling on the inside.

Bellatrix listens to the other speak with mild interest. “Sometimes it’s wise to avoid trouble,” she says. “But it hardly is, now. Besides, you ought to remember where we stand amongst all this.” A grin curls her lips. “We’re the predators of the food chain, Mia. Don’t ever underestimate that.” Perhaps she’s hubristic, overestimating her own abilities, but so far she has not been proven wrong. A chuckle. “I do hope he’s not a coward. They’re quite boring.” Bellatrix gives Mia a look, and then apparates to the address she’d been given.

Once arrived, she pulls her arm back. She’s not keen on being physically close to the other unless it’s to intimidate her. Bellatrix looks at the front door of Buchanan’s house, and she feels thrilled. It’s been much too long. She points her wand to the door, attempts an Alohomora. Not because she thinks it will work, but to give Mia the idea that she can play carefully. “Ah, he’s at least clever enough to have some wards,” she says, rattling the door handle. “What do you say, Travers? Should we blow it up? Or would you prefer to be a little more subtle?” She’d like to set the entire place ablaze and smoke Isaac’s father out, make an example out of him before making an example out of his son. But they’re here to ask questions, first and foremost. “You do the honours.”

Shite. He really gave himself away, didn’t he? Still, Bilius kept his resolve and refused to give the woman an inch. The most Bilius could do was pretend not to know what she looked like. “I’ve heard things,” he replied, injecting the worst kind of venom in his tone to infer that what he heard weren’t good things. “I’d like to think of myself as just considerate, actually.” 

Bilius mood quickly turned into something a. He could feel his blood boiling. “No thanks to the likes of you, of course.” If Bellatrix took that as Bilius implying that she was one of the people causing so much death and destruction around them, then he truly could not care less. She gave him no indication that she meant anything other than what she was saying. But it was hard to believe that a woman as condescending as her truly felt pity. What a vile woman. “Of course, you don’t. I’m sure you’re working fairly hard to continue living as comfortably as you do.”

“Of course,” Bilius responded with his tone dripping with sarcasm. His rage made it all the more impossible to continue entertaining the woman. “This has nothing to do with you lot.” Frankly, if Bilus was in Slughorn’s place and the previous parties only consisted of people like Bellatrix,  then Bilius would have done the same thing, if not stop inviting people like her altogether.

She’s getting under his skin, she knows it. Bellatrix fights the urge to smile widely, bear her fangs and speak even more cruelly. If she had her way, she would only speak in venomous words, but appearances still matter. Even in front of the likes of Bilius Weasley. “Of course you have. Families like ours come with a certain level of recognition, after all.” 

Bellatrix cocks her head to the side, as if she’s confused. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr Weasley,” she says calmly. Oh, how she wishes she could have been the one to kill his lousy boyfriend, the one who had caused him such grief. “Making baseless accusations is never a clever thing, I think.” And then, something grave washes over her face. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t known grief, either.” She thinks of Regulus, her traitorous cousin. She only griefs his potential.

“You lot?” An eyebrow raised. “What do you mean, those more well-off than you? More successful? Come on, do be a little bit clearer if you want to be ... hostile.” 

Charlotte heard the question the first time but chose to ignore it. It was a little thing she did, sort of a tiny power play. Bellatrix Lestrange was well respected within the Dark Lord’s circle and the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight and the witch intrigued her. But still, it amused the vampire to toy with those who thought so highly of themselves. Bellatrix may be powerful and favored, but she was still mortal and Charlotte was a god.

“Sometimes,” she shrugged, then took another sip of her drink. “Although when you have as much time as I do – very little appears to be truly boring. There is always something, or rather someone of interest to be found at every event.” Charlotte smiled almost suggestively at the witch, before continuing. “And, if it grows too dull, I can usually find some way to liven things up.”

“Are you bored, Mrs. Lestrange?” The vampire asked almost demurely. “Sit and tell me more about yourself and perhaps we can make things more interesting?”

If she was an immortal vampire – which she would never be, of course, as Bellatrix looked down on their kind – she would not waste her time with things like this. She’d go around ripping throats and dousing herself in the blood of her victims. But perhaps even that would get boring after a few decades.

“I do suggest you don’t get your hopes up too much,” began Bellatrix. “Not many of those present are interesting. With a few exceptions here –” She returned the other’s smile. “– and there.” A chuckle, then. “Hm, I think we might have that in common, then.” Of course, she couldn’t go around causing the havoc she wanted to cause, but Bellatrix wasn’t above some mild shenanigans.

She sat down, and sipped her drink before answering. “Most definitely,” she said, glaring around the room. “What is it you would like to know about me that you don’t already, then?”

“I know.”

If Lucius had ever said that growing up, Abraxas would’ve slapped him. He would’ve waited for the company to leave first, of course, but it would’ve been inescapable. To be so arrogant - if Abraxas didn’t slap him, Elisabeth would have. Lucius admired the trait in his sister-in-law, but mainly because she was his sister-in-law. He could admire her confidence from a distance, never directly being associated with it.

“I don’t know how she does it either. I mainly do it because the Confederation pays me too,” Lucius joked. “She’s a fantastic wife and mother, but if she ever wanted to try her hand at politics, I’m sure she’d flourish there too.”

Despite the changes he was trying to make in the world, Lucius wouldn’t have given his life for anything. From where he stood, his life was perfect. His work, his friends, his family - all stunning. Although, if Narcissa did ever join him in politics for some reason, how powerful they’d be…

Bellatrix’ had been fed a feeling of superiority from birth. She was a Black, a Rosier, the oldest of her generation ––– that demanded respect, according to her parents, and now according to herself, too. Her confidence, though, was self-made, supported by this feeling of superiority, but built up all on her own. She was more than her parents could have ever bargained for. She had clawed herself up, and now thought herself better than them.

“Oh, perhaps when Draco is off to Hogwarts, hm? She would make a fantastic politician,” Bellatrix nodded. She wouldn’t, unless the Ministry was overthrown and turned into a dictatorship. Sure, she could spin words into honey, but she dealt better in venom. “Much better than some of the fools running around the Ministry.” 

Distaste painted her face, and Bellatrix imagined the place burned down and something new built on top of the ashes. She wasn’t one for politics, but perhaps in that way, she could get into it. “The two of you would make quite a pair, if you were to work together.”

“Why not you my dear?” he asked with a laugh. He knew she wouldn’t be that messy about it, even if she was bored. Luckily, with this many people around a scene would probably be caused without them even having to get involved. “I’m sure with this many drunk people in one room there’s bound to be some sort of drama.”

“Are you planning on causing the storm or are you here to hope one brews?” he asked. He was also quite bored and the restlessness was causing him to scheme. “I’ve been trying to create my own entertainment tonight as well. With varying degrees of success unfortunately.”

“Ah, perhaps I will if the evening continues to be such a bore,” she said. Bellatrix was trying to behave herself, though, if only because of Voldemort’s wishes. She chuckled, then. “Oh, most definitely. Especially considering all the characters Slughorn decided to invited ... some of them are bound to clash.” She thought of Andromeda and Ted, for a moment. Did they not expect her throw at least a bit of a scene?

Barty looked at Bellatrix with wide eyes. It was obvious that she was looking for a specific answer. If what he hears about the eldest Black sister had any merit to them, then Barty can hazard a guess as to what Bellatrix might want to hear. But… does she really mean it? Or was she just testing Barty’s resolve like so many other older Death Eaters?

The air felt thick with anticipation as Bellatrix seemingly waited for more. But even though Barty knew what she wanted him to say, he couldn’t dare to say it. And then, as if their conversation was just some random topic being brought up on a Sunday brunch, Bellatrix continued. There it was. Barty was usually cunning and strategic with his replies, but he was so thrown off with them actually talking about what he wanted most in the world that he had no other choice but to speak the truth. “Yes. As long as my father is alive, he will find ways to cling unto his power in the Ministry of Magic.”

She wanted to push Barty, see how far he was willing to go, both for the cause but also as a person. Would he commit patricide? Contribute to the definitive downfall of his father? It was a crime Bellatrix had not committed, but then her father was decidedly less of an issue than Barty Crouch Sr was. Perhaps one day –– but such fantasies had no place in the current conversation.

He knew the apologetic appearance rang hollow. Even if they were not as close as spouses typically – even if they didn’t share a bed, let alone a wing of the house – they were married. He knew certain tics and tells of hers, just as she likely knew his. “They are pitiful, and not worth speaking of.” Wasted air, if you asked him. One day, there wouldn’t be any need to speak of those who didn’t understand the superiority of purebloods. They would simple be gone.

He wondered what the diners thought of them. Did they appear to be the perfect couple? Had any of them heard rumors of indiscretions? They both had them, but they both knew the importance of appearances. Trying to discern the thoughts of strangers was the way of madness, so he let those thoughts go as the host guided them to a table in the back. “It would be poor manners of me to invite you to dinner and then not speak to you,” Rodolphus said as he settled into his seat. “What should we speak of?”

“Hm-hm,” she murmured in agreement. “Then let’s not waste our breath on them any longer.” Bellatrix did think they worth speaking of, though hardly in a way that was socially permissible. She wished to speak of the things she longed to do to them, the ways she would make them pay for their foolishness, their wrongness. Sometimes she wondered if she punished everyone for the things they did wrong in her eyes, there would be anyone left on this world. She wasn’t sure she minded if there wasn’t.

Bellatrix let her lips curl into a warm smile as Rodolphus spoke of poor manners. She knew how to behave, how to play nicely and subscribe to society’s rules. They were ingrained in her, even if they didn’t come naturally to her, and she did not underestimate the power that came with looking composed, polite and tranquil. Especially if you could be both that and absolutely monstrous. Bellatrix sat down. “Oh, I could tell you of a curse I’ve been trying to crack, if you’re interested in the details,” she said. “Or you could tell me about your long day.”

The laughter that escaped from her sister’s lips was jarring, almost inhuman. Andromeda stepped back quickly, watching with fright as the cruel sound transformed the familiar lines of Bella’s face into something feral, someone to be feared. Had the beast always been lurking there, just below the pretty veneer of her older sister? Perhaps she’d always known, but never having been the target of a great and terrible wrath, Andromeda was able to ignore it’s existence. Every rational part of her screamed to run, but she’d always had a way of overlooking that with her sisters.

“It’s not bullshit, its the way the rest of the fucking world works.” Andromeda tried to steady herself, to not show any of the fear pounding through her veins. “Family is supposed to build you up, to support and love you no matter what! He does that, his family does that - they actually care what I have to say, the trust me to make the right choices with my child and my marriage.” Her voice broke a bit on the end, “it’s not healthy or safe or love to have to tiptoe around your parents, or to be forced to marry someone you don’t even love. I deserve so much better than that - and so do you and Cissy! If you could just -” she sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair, “you don’t have to be miserable and afraid all the time.”

If that meant killing that mudblood, I would have done it.

The confession, spilled with ease and almost relish hurt more than a knife to her chest. For the first time, Andromeda believed her sister was capable of such evil. She’d always suspected, there was a darkness in this bloodline, she’d seen it in her father and even herself. A causal cruelty that came from either wealth or status or both. But this was more, it was intentional - a calculated blow intent on delivering the most pain.

“You’d have had to kill me as well then,” Andromeda stepped back again, fearful and devastated. “That wouldn’t have kept me safe, it wouldn’t have kept my daughter safe. I would never be able to lie to her about that. My child will grow up safe and loved and with both her parents. And I didn’t leave you, you pushed me away and cut me out.”

Bellatrix was quite aware of the fact that her parents hadn’t loved her right. She had been, for many years –– she was quit sure that she had been aware of it for most of her life. And while it had instilled her with an anger at a young age, she had also been able to accept it because of the love she did have: that of her sisters. The two of them, trailing behind her from the moment they could walk. In a home that was so filled with toxicity, the three of them had formed something solid and steady and safe.

Andromeda had betrayed that. So who was she, to speak of healthy families now? “You speak as if I live a dreadful life, as if I was forced into something, as if I cower in front of my parents,” she said, her words a spat. “I carry no love for mother nor father, you know this. But for you to say that I am miserable? Afraid? Do you hear yourself? Do I seem miserable, to you? Like I’m being forced into marriage? Last I checked, I am very much single. I am drawing my own path, Andromeda. I managed to find a way to do as much without betraying those I love.” Bellatrix was quiet for a moment, and then added in a voice no less venomous, “I loved you unconditionally once, but you fucked that up. That’s on you.”

She wondered, for a moment, if she would be able to do it. Cast a killing curse and watch her sister’s body drop to the floor. Murder wasn’t hard for Bellatrix any more, she even thought she liked it now. And she hated Andromeda, truly, for the way she had made her soul raw and naked once, how she had broken her heart. Still, she wondered if she would be able to mean it, if she would be able to go through with it.

Secretly, she doubted it.

But that didn’t keep her from smirking. “Perhaps one day I will. You, and your daughter and your dirty husband, all of you ...” It wasn’t a promise, but it was a threat. She liked seeing Andromeda step back. She hoped she would run off now. “Live with the consequences of your actions, Andy. It’s the least you could do.”

“yeah, you’re right. i could have done better. it was hard to think of something on the spot” she says furrowing her brows. it was always interesting to see bellatrix in a place like this. it didn’t really appear to match her vibe but quite frankly she felt like she has seen bella the most this entire time of her store opening. “who am i kidding, i have no old back, i just didn’t feel like moving it myself but seeing as you won’t help and think it’s fine where it is. i suppose we can just leave it.” she says in a simple tone as she looks around the shop. was there anything out of place? layla couldn’t tell at this point. she has been moving things from storage to out on the shelves just to see what had looked good. “and maybe i shouldn’t listen to her, but i don’t know, i kind of value her input just like how i value yours, cousin.” she hums out before going behind the counter, arranging a few bits and bobs to make the counter look somewhat complete, anything to keep her hands busy. “anyways, what do you think of it?” she asks smiling slightly. “i don’t know how i still like the arrangement of everything. i’m still toying with the layout of it.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I’m quite quick on my feet.” Bellatrix said it as if it was a joke, but she did believe her own words. She observed her cousin for a moment before distracting herself with the products on display again, turning her head slightly as Layla went on. “Ah, laziness ... it will be the downfall of humanity one day. Though I’ll gladly be lazy if it means not having to busy myself with moving shelves.” Bellatrix thought herself above such menial tasks, and really did see nothing wrong with the things. But then, she had never been particularly keen on interior design. “Well, you should value my input, as I am often right. Trust me, though, blindly following your mother will never do you any good.” She turned to her cousin, then, giving her a smile. A warning, perhaps, that if word of this were to come back to Druella, she’d have her head. Not that Bellatrix cared that much about her mother’s opinion of her any more, but still: it’d be best if she didn’t know about all she said about mothers. “I think it all looks perfectly well, but I’m hardly an expert on such things. It functions, doesn’t it? That’s most important.”