make it black

SHE  WAS  NEVER  THE  CONSOLING  TYPE   .   no   ,   mother  failed  to  teach  her  such  things   ;   and  yet  she  understood   .   her  own  nights  were  plagued  with  tossing  and  turning   ,   guilt  stricken  images  burning  behind  eyelids  whenever  they  closed   .   so  maybe  it  was  better  not  to  close  them  at  all   ?     but  this  was  emma  vanity    &    she  would  never  admit  to  such  sleepless  nights   .   it  simply  meant  her  mornings  consisted  of  extra  care  so  that  there  were  no  questions   .   no  blemishes   .     ❛     rough  night   ?      ❜    her  brow  was  arched   ,   stained  lips  sipping  the  dark  ,   caffeinated  drink   .     ❛     the  bags  under  your  eyes  says  it  all   .     ❜

bellatrix was not so careful, delicacies meant for . . . well, someone who was not a rough night personified. she would never be regal in appearance, or tact, and yet, she was frightening all the same.    ❝   that bad ?   ❞   the slytherin asked rhetorically, her own mug moving to mirror her friend’s movements. sharp bitterness met her tongue and it was enough to bring an amused lift to her lips. she preferred to blame the company.    ❝   we could all use something a little unsightly now and again,   ❞   she lowered her coffee to reveal her grin and leaned over the slytherin’s table to level the brunette with a rare look that few living had witnessed. or few cared to. a bright, trusting expression found hovering around the eyes of a black.    ❝   pick me up, em. this isn’t doing the trick.   ❞   

the similarity in tone was not noticeable to narcissa, at least not at first. after all it was her sister speaking to her wasn’t it? and her words where so often full of love (  and teasing  ) that the discrepancy wasn’t a concern. it wasn’t until the tension that had crept up on her eased that she noted the similarity of the words to those their father would have chosen. attempting to push it form her mind she couldn’t help but falter in her unpacking. " course it is bella, who’d say no to the kitchens “ uncharacteristically not fighting the nickname.

“I have top marks in this class. One mistake wouldn’t be my downfall.” His eyes slowly wandered to her hand reaching down for his empty flash. Brows furrowed together before he snatched his flask away and placed it into his robes. A huff and pulling down his sleeves, he grabbed his wand and placed the Mending spell on his cauldron. It would work for now but in time, he’d have to get a new one. “At least you can add a good mark on this class. Perhaps you’ll pass after all. I’m so proud.”

“well; I may appear foolish but I have to credit you, Black. You actually managed to create a proper potion.” A slow; rather condescending clap was given. “Bravo.”

“You must find it hilarious.” Voice cold as ice passed his lips. He dusted off the school robes; soot falling to the ground. Severus Snape had managed to mess up ingredients in a potion; causing an explosion that broke his cauldron in half. Looks like he will have to beg his mother for a new one; he doubted he’ll get one. He’d have to borrow one of Slughorn’s; a thought that made him groan.

❝   if only it were so simple. . . . but  there  is  this look people get sometimes, when they look at me. 

                            -----and trust me, it’s not   ‘admiration’.  ❞