blood, guts

January, 1979.

     There was no better start to the new year than invading someone’s house, giving them a nightmare potion, torturing them mentally until they’re sobbing every litre of water they have in their body, and then leaving them to deal with the trauma. It was safe to say that Alecto was looking forward to this year.

     To celebrate, she’d decided to go robe shopping. While going through the Leaky Cauldron, a man and his child caught her eye. There was something about them that she recognised, as if she’d definitely seen them before, but she couldn’t remember where.

     That’s when it hit her. The nightmare. Alecto let out a small laugh at the sight, and decided to have some fun.

     While walking past their table, she “accidentally” nudged a glass of water off the table, causing it to s h a t t e r once it hit the floor. Putting on her best flustered face, Alecto scrambled to take out her wand and cast a quick reparo. “I’m so sorry!”

fuck, marry, kill

“Hm. I know virtually none of these people, although I will kill Ted because he’s a mudblood. I guess I’ll just fuck the other two and then kill them. Seems the most convenient.”

fuck, marry, kill

“Well, fuck. This is hilarious. Kill Greta, whoever the fuck that is. Fuck Cyrus. Marry Amelia - trauma is so interesting to watch unfold.”

fuck, marry, kill

“Marry Augustus, although I’m certain he’d have one hell of a problem with that. The other two I am n o t familiar with, so I guess I’ll just kill both of them.”

fuck, marry, kill

“Kill Dorcas. Probably marry Antonin, and fuck Remus. Again. These are too predictable.”

fuck, marry, kill

“I don’t want to marry any of them, but I think Thorfinn would be my safest bet. Fuck Evan, kill Fenrir.”

fuck, marry, kill

“Fuck Remus. Marry Peter - he’s adorably scared of me anyway, so it’d work out. Kill James. Easy.”

fuck, marry, kill

“Merlin, I obviously do not want to fuck kill Amycus, so I’ll marry him. Kill Cygnus, because he’d old anyway. Fuck Marcus because he’s the only one left, but I’d kill him after.”

January, 1979.

     Her life had devolved into spending time either drinking alcohol, or killing, or doing both simultaneously. She had no complaints - they kept her satisfied, and sane, and seemingly normal and controlled. There was nothing she truly wanted to do beyond the two, and nothing she could really find herself to give even half a shit about. She was vulgar, and crude, and she liked herself that way.

     Which was why she found herself wondering how her and Isabella had managed to form a friendship despite their obvious differences. Here she was, waiting for her in the Greengrass Living Room, a guest welcome in at most times, and with no knowledge of what she had planned for them for the day. But Alecto somehow knew that Isabella was trustworthy, she was someone she could place her faith in. Their friendship may not have been as strong as it was years ago in Hogwarts, but it was still there, and it was a fact much appreciated by her.

     Alecto heard heels against the wooden floor, and sat up a little straighter on the sofa. Somehow Isabella managed to pull out the side of her that knew etiquette, and grace, and maybe that’s why she liked being around her.

July 1975

     As much as she truly detested pureblood balls and ceremonies and trying to act ladylike, this particular event was irony and hilarity at its finest. A pureblood gathering right after the son of the Black family had defected and left was amusing to attend, as the very least. She didn’t even protest once when the invitation came in, from who she didn’t know, but there was a degree of amusement in her eyes.

     As usual, as soon as she entered her eyes went looking for wine, or champagne, or something. She noticed a young boy with the blackest hair standing near the table. Perfect - nothing like goading on the people directly affected. Alecto walked over to him with a glass of wine in her hand and tapped his shoulder.

                                            “So, Regulus, did you expect it?”

January, 1979

     Never had Alecto thought that she would ever have to go to an Owl Emporium post the age of 11, simply because she assumed that after that all her owls would be gifted to her, or would somehow just materialize. It was a hilarious fantasy, one that was so childish that she almost wanted to bash her own head in for the stupidity. Owls died, and not everyone was kind enough to gift actual owls - getting a pair of socks as an adult was a treat.

     That’s why, only when she set her owl on fire because of some odd anonymous message, did she realize that she would have to go and buy a new one.

     On her way to the Owl Emporium in Diagon Alley, she managed to step on someone’s robe and very nearly tripped. She stumbled, took hold of a pipe that was going up a wall, and stabalized herself. She tapped the stranger on the shoulder and scowled at them. “Next time, get your robes fitted properly. I’ll even give you a few names that know how to measure.”