CHAPTER SUMMARY: Bellatrix and Cassandra finally deal with their shit via Celtic goddess comparisons, over the top declarations, and magic drug sex (?? I guess is what I'm gonna call it, for lack of a better name lol)
“Is Bellatrix makin’ you sick, Mum?”
“—What?” Cassandra asked as she turned to face her son, her surprise at the question evident despite the fact that she had just felt that large plop of anxiety hit Gregory not too long ago. Her poor boy felt things in heavy hits, like a stone being thrown into still water— always completely unaware until it rippled through him, and he was faced with the obvious. Still, because they were felt in such larger bursts they also tended to dissipate more quickly, and half the time they were over before Gregory even had a chance to voice them. Still, Cassandra had assumed his anxiousness was because the Dark Lord had returned, as that was certainly the source of her turmoil, but apparently that was not her son's primary concern.
Gregory sat on a stool at their breakfast bar, shoving a bowl of dry cereal into his mouth at nearly ten o’clock at night. Cassandra had dismissed the house elf after Peter had died, as it had become useless after blaming itself for his death anyhow, so unfortunately that meant that there was very little food left in the house since they didn't actually reside there anymore. Her dinner was a glass of bloody gin that she could still barely stomach, but it at least stopped Cassandra from obsessively worrying about what was currently going on at Malfoy Manor, and so she indulged.
“Malfoy says Bellatrix made his Mum sick, an’ you've been acting real weird lately,” the boy accused. “Like I get you were sad about Dad dying, even though he was bein’ a fuckin’ wank—”
“Gregory,” Cassandra lightly scolded him, as it felt almost more disrespectful, in a way, for him to talk about his father like that now that Peter was dead.
“Nah, it’s crap! I know you guys thought I never paid attention to nothin’, but I knew when Dad was fuckin’ Crabbe's mum, an’ yet when he found out about Aunt Cissa he was actin’ like you were the only one who fucked up our family, when he was shit from the very beginning. Y’know what he told me to do, Mum?” Gregory stressed, and even before her son said the words, Cassandra had a sinking feeling that she already knew. “What he did to you, what Granddad did to Nan— fuckin’ find a girl an’ trap ‘em, basically. S’fucked; don’t care that you were a bloody Burke, you were still way outta his league an’ yet he acted like he was doin’ some kind of fuckin’ charity by marrying ya. Honestly, no wonder ya turned into a bloody dyke— lesbo, sorry.”
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