plastic heart .

rabastan couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread as he crossed paths with his sister-in-law, though he managed to hide his surprise well, he’d always been good at hiding emotions. the summer solstice festival didn’t strike him as the type of place she’d visit, which meant there must be a reason for her presence. another plan that he hadn’t been privy to, though, that wasn’t a surprise. he wasn’t a fan of being left completely out of the loop, but their chance encounter was enough of a warning that he wouldn’t be caught completely off-guard.

“that seems a bit beneath you,” rabastan responded with a laugh, as he cast a glance at the booth in question. truthfully, he didn’t care what bellatrix did to the teapots, but he hoped that his comment might prompt some sort of revelation. “but perhaps it’s time for those teapots to start swearing like sailors,” he chuckled.

A ROLL OF HER EYES FOLLOWED HER BROTHER-IN-LAW’S WORDS. Truly, she was just bored. A cat on the prowl for her daily dose of excitement. Something, anything, really to make her feel more like a living human being, and not some dark object, charmed to curse whoever she touched. Still, he wouldn’t understand, at least Bellatrix couldn’t imagine him understanding, and so she grinned, teeth sharp. “Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment,” she said. “But it was quite funny to play a little game.”

Location: by the lagoon Who: @mcssmisery​

The enthusiasm that surrounded Rodolphus was not a feeling he shared – and he doubted he was alone in that, although maybe for different reasons. He felt no need to look over his shoulder or shrink in on himself when someone reached for their wand. His lack of enthusiasm wasn’t due to anxiety; it stemmed from being completely and utterly out of place. Well, completely and utterly may have been an exaggeration, but not by much. What worth was he going to find in a festival booth? A bonfire? Or the child-oriented creature shows he could overhear from his spot by the lagoon? The one spot he’d found that held even a modicum of peace. Leaving early was not yet an option, not least of all because he suspected the witch – his wife – coming towards him might mock him for being a spoil sport.

Rodolphus nodded at Bellatrix when she got close enough. “Did you find anyone or anything of interest?”

IT WAS CLEAR THAT THE PAVILION WAS WELL MAINTAINED. Bellatrix would have wondered in it, if her sister hadn’t been the one to create it. Of course, though, it was a Black who had created such a stunning landscape. The pride she felt for her sister, though, was quickly replaced by a sadness that she did not want to feel, so Bellatrix found herself downing her sorrows in a bottle of liquor and ending up with some toffee from the Honeydukes cart. 

THE SUMMER SOLSTICE FESTIVAL ALWAYS FELT LIKE A DREAM. Bellatrix had liked this place, when she’d been a child. Full of magic, both old and new; the perfection example of why the magical world should be separated from the Muggles, and why it was better. This year, though, it felt strange to be here, more like a nightmare. She was antsy, truthfully, and she could sense the danger in the air. The Dark Lord had only given her a few instructions. Stay close to the booths. Don’t look suspicious. She had laughed at that one -- when didn’t she look suspicious to the Order members?

She didn’t know why she was here.

The house was quaint, really, enough to make her stomach churn. It’s what she’d pictured their home to be like; that warmth that she only read about in fairytales. Bellatrix hadn’t thought when she’d apparated, truthfully. She’d had Andromeda’s address for a long time, acquired by a one of her more loyal house elf’s after presents had arrived from her sister for Christmas one year. Still, she’d never been. It felt silly, really, because what would she do here? Lurk outside and make sure her sister was safe? They couldn’t talk, of course; Bellatrix couldn’t bear that. Not now. Not with what she knew.

Still, here she was, standing outside, a sore thumb wearing a black cape in their bright neighborhood. 

Bellatrix might’ve knocked if the situation were different. Might have found the lion’s courage that lay within her, somewhere, according to the Sorting Hat. Right now, though, she couldn’t find that burst of bravery, or even anger, that had propelled her here. The letters had brought up an unwelcome swarm of emotions, and they still buzzed within her, muddying her brain, causing her to stumble up Andromeda’s steps with that same bloody stupid mindset she’d had as a child. Hatred and love and that thin, thin line between them. It was making her sick to her stomach.

Her father’s notes had merely confirmed her suspicions, but she’d burned them. Burned every last one of them to make sure that Andromeda would never be found out. Not now. Despite it all, despite the fact that her sister was a Seer, confirmed by her father’s horrific tests ( tests that Bellatrix didn’t know about; tests that, now, made her want to beat him into oblivion for conducting ), Bellatrix still protected her. She always would, at the end of the day. And what was she here to do? Tell her that? They didn’t even talk about the weather. With a shake of her head, Bellatrix practically ran from the front door, down the sidewalk, about to head into the alley when she saw her sister. Feet stopped, planted into the Earth, Bellatrix knew that she was trapped. She didn’t know why she’d came, but she was here, and now so was Andromeda. 

Location: Diagon Alley Who: open

It was by instinct alone that Ted managed to catch the letter half-flying, half-skittering across the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. Ted frowned and squinted at it, turning it over. His eyes skimmed the lettering on the back, but the handwriting was chicken-scratch. He craned his head, searching for someone or something who might’ve lost it. Ted spotted nothing; no frantic people, no circling owls, no healers in sight. He glanced at the letter again, but the word were still scribbles. Was than an F or an L?

Motion in the corner of his vision broke his focus. He waved at the disappointingly calm bystander, picking up his feet to reach them. “You didn’t lose a letter did you?” he asked in a hopeful tone, holding it out for them to see. “I caught this, but I can’t read the name or address on it.”

It was not every day that Bellatrix made the trip to Diagon. In fact, she felt as though she might even stop at Bourgin’s today. Joyful wasn’t the word. to describe her, but she was feeling hopeful today. Hopeful that they might win this war; that the right side might persevere. And just as the hope set in, just as it seeped into her bones, she was stopped by the very voice that had proven otherwise to her. The very voice that had taken away such an important part of her life; the very voice of what was wrong with the other side. 

Bellatrix made her nervous – and it wasn’t that she was mad.  Everyone who seemed so enamored with Voldemort was a bit mad.  It was the fact that she was smart too.  Intelligence and madness was a frightening combination.  She was  in the Order.  No one needed to know that beyond Alastor Moody, Dumbledore, and now Gideon Prewett.  Not Noah, not Marlowe, and certainly not Bellatrix Lestrange.  Nor did she know, unless one of the three people who did know had decided to run their mouth, something she very much doubted.

“Oh,” she nodded quickly.  She gestured for one of her employees to man the front of the house for a bit and gestured again for Bellatrix to follow her into the back.  “Of course.  Anything in particular you can share?  Details help, but if you don’t want to share those, very specific timing is most important.  Of course, you probably already know that.”

...

Bellatrix had her doubts, sure, but Mia hadn’t given her reason to distrust her, other than the fact that she hung around the sort of people who might be on the opposite side. Of course, maybe that was due to the fact of her job, rather than she actually wanted to be here. Still, something in her gut told her not to trust Mia. Then again, she trusted no one, usually. It wasn’t quite Mia’s fault, if she was being scrutinized. Bellatrix didn’t trust those outside of her own inner circle. It was part of her life, now, to be constantly on her toes.

Setting down her drink, she laced her fingers together and passed across a piece of paper. “They were earlier today, probably around seven am. They shouldn’t be about me, although I suppose I could appear in there. Really, we’re looking at a man named Eres Parcel. You might have met him. He’s about to go on a job and my employer would like to make sure it goes well.”

Antonin could never get used to side-by-side apparition. It felt strange to him. Magic was a solo act. You didn’t catch people sharing their spells, why should you be able to tap into someone’s magic like that? He didn’t like the nausea that came with it. It was always easier alone. Antonin straightened his back and tried to play the part. He was lucky having grown up in Russia, but having a woman on his arm was foreign to him.

“Good evening,” Antonin said, dropping his voice lower as he spoke to the man at the door. He smiled at Bellatrix. He knew they were both playing a part, but this was a different side than he had seen of her before. “Thank you, my wife.”

He didn’t like crowds, but he was used to braving them. He knew at the top of their mission that he’d have to expect this, but somehow it didn’t make it any easier. “Not my best, but I do,” he said. He bowed in front of her before sticking out his hand. “Let’s dance, my love.”

...

It was nice to pretend for a little while, that she was more like Narcissa. More like Andromeda, even, who was a much better dancer than she would ever be. Bellatrix was too stiff. All arms and legs and no grace. It helped her on the battlefield, but on a dance floor she wasn’t particularly graceful. Still, she’d worked hard to mimic the grace, as she had with most other parts of her life. “I’m going to mess up at the end, tripping into her,” she said, under her breath. “I’ll give this signal right before it happens.” She grabbed his hand, giving the back of his hand two quick taps with her index finger

She assumed he would be fine, though, all things considered. Antonin seemed to be rolling with her punches. As they moved around the floor, Bellatrix’s eyes remained half trained on him and half trained on their target. The Dark Lord’s position on the seers went back and forth. To kill or not to kill? To hear the prophecy and then to kill? It was all confusing, and Bellatrix was quick to kill.

Still, for now, she gave Antonin the signal and quickly tripped, stumbling into the seer next to her. “My apologies,” she said, with a slight laugh. “It seems I have two left feet tonight. Too much champagne already.”

Freya knew that it was the socially acceptable thing to dislike your job – that many people her age bonded with their peers over commiserating together about unlikable bosses, unreasonable expectations, or boring tasks.  But she liked being an obliviator.  She got paid to steal people’s memories and to use her favorite quill to dictate exactly how she had done it and why she was great at it when she did paperwork.  It was great.  

“No,” she confirmed.  “I went home to feed Princess first.  I wanted to free up my schedule.”  Bellatrix was great fun, and she didn’t want to have to turn down and sort of excitement because of her hungry cat.  “It’s depressing, isn’t it?  Work helps me behave,” she laughed.  “If I don’t have obliviating jobs I get quite bored.  Oh, speaking of bored, would you like a brownie?  I baked them last night.”

...

Freya’s incessant energy was something that Bellatrix envied. In turn, it annoyed her, even if Freya was one of the few people she could stand to be around. While they didn’t use their power in the same way, Bellatrix appreciated that Freya could use her power. Then again, she also could blend in better; could bake cookies and bring them to work with a grin on her face. If Bellatrix baked cookies... well, you probably wouldn’t want to eat them ( they would also most likely have poison in them, because why else was she baking cookies? ).

“Ah,” she said, with a nod of her head. “Work is our buffer, it seems. Although right now, that buffer has been taken down, and nothing is going on.” Bellatrix raised a hand, indicating the bartender bring them another drink, and she quickly took it, taking a long sip. At the mention of brownies, she raised a brow and took one from the other woman. It was hard not to laugh, but she managed a smile. “How you even have time to bake amazes me, Freya. Truly. If I even had hobbies, I would barely have the time to do them these days.”

@mcssmisery​ 

There had never been a moment where she had questioned the sorting hat’s decision to place her in Ravenclaw.  Intelligence was the thing she prided herself on more than anything else.  It was also the characteristic she admired most in others.  It was why she was able to do her jobs so well:  the legal, illegal, and secret ones alike.  Most Death Eaters were more brawny than they were brainy, from her experience.  Confidence and pride made many sloppy, allowing her to overhear a smattering of helpful conversations.  But Bellatrix Lestrange was a different story.  The woman was absolutely, bloody mad, but she wasn’t stupid – it was a frightening combination, especially when it came to her anonymity.  

That was why when she saw her approaching Mia with a purposeful look in her eyes she cursed under her breath.  “Ms. Lestrange.”  She offered as bright as smile as she could manage, despite her distaste for the woman.  “I trust you’re having a good time tonight.”

...

Bellatrix had never trusted spies.

The Dark Lord liked them; liked the fact that he had eyes and ears on the inside but Bellatrix thought they were pointless. In truth, she could’ve figured out any information they had needed, so she didn’t understand why they were risking their livelihood on these people. She wasn’t even certain how dedicated Mia was to their cause; could this be another Isaac disaster waiting to happen? She wasn’t certain, but she was cautious, at least with the other woman.

Mia’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence. This was her poker hall, after all, and Bellatrix frequented it. Tonight, though, she was here with a purpose, and she nodded her head. “Ah, yes, I would’ve if I weren’t here on business,” she said, smiling wickedly. “I promise not to set any fires in your shop, Thompson. I just need you to read a few numbers for me.” Truthfully, there was a man she was supposed to be trailing, just on the other side of the bar. The Dark Lord suspected he was a deserter, but Mia didn’t need to know that. Yet. 

Antonin nodded. “Might be a stretch, but we could tie it to Babayaga. Russian folktale. A hag who lured children to her and ate them for breakfast. I know it’s just a kid’s tale, but maybe there’s some connection.” It admittedly wasn’t the best connection, but it was the first thing that came to mind. “Or we could just tie it to Yvgeny Dmitriov. I think he was a potioneer.”

He couldn’t recall ever being to an auction. He purposefully avoided the ones at the carnival, especially when Avery had told him of his plans for that night. Antonin had never wanted to be married. He wondered if Bellatrix felt similarly even if she hadn’t gotten so lucky. He tried to imagine himself in a parallel universe where he was taking his wedding band off as well, married to a nice Pureblood girl. If his father hadn’t kicked it, he may have. “I don’t think my father is capable of happiness,” Antonin said. Maybe Aleia and Alexander were privy to a different side of him, but Antonin could swear he never saw the man smile. “A match in Pureblood heaven,” he said with a smile. He didn’t think his father would have set him up with anyone as prestigious as a Black. He didn’t think his father’s connections went that high. Antonin stuck out his arm so she could loop hers in his. “Let’s.”

...

The rush that followed apparating always managed to make Bellatrix smile. She hated when people complained about it, because what was freedom without a little pain? What was their power if not something that could be taken away? That’s why they were fighting, wasn’t it? To keep their power safe. To keep magic where it was supposed to be, not where it might go. And, so, as the pair stepped into the brightly lit room, she couldn’t help but transform. Bellatrix flipped her hair over her shoulder and put on a smile Naricssa would be proud of. Her hand relaxed on Antonin’s arm, and they stepped into the room with a flourish. 

“Good evening,” the man at the door said in French, and Bellatrix cooly handed him their card. “Mr. and Mrs. Avery, welcome...” And just like that they were inside, with a piece of paper she’d conjured moments before stepping through the door. She picked at a flower in a nearby vase and placed it in his lapel, grinning. “Red looks rather good on you, husband,” she teased, before pulling him into the room. 

The voices were loud, but Bellatrix was good at focusing. It used to overwhelm her, a crowd like this. It used to make her want to cause chaos just to have a bit of control over the situation. Today, though, she was able to take a deep breath, steadying herself. “Do you know how to foxtrot?” she asked him, in a low voice, before scanning the crowd. “Because I believe I spot our seer on the dance floor.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she watched Draco run over to her sister — it seemed cliché, but there was nothing that warmed her heart more than to watch her son bond with the rest of his family. A laugh escaped from between her lips at Bellatrix’s comment and she shook her head back and forth in amusement, before mouthing back to her: you love me. “Oh, you? Grumpy? Never.” She joked as she watched Draco make his way back over to his toys. “Well, how have you been then? Anything interesting happen at work? Tell me everything. Seriously, the most entertainment I get these days is watching Draco find new ways to destroy the house. So, spill!”

...

Bellatrix hated the softness she found in these moments with her sister and her nephew. Hated it because she knew they were her weakness. They were the reason she would be torn down, in the end. Still, at least if she were torn down, she would hope they would remain safe. That was all she wanted. Was for them to be safe, at the end of all of this. A raise of her brow followed her words, and she watched as Draco went back to his toy bin. She sat, or rather, draped herself over the other chair in her sister’s living room and waved a hand. “Oh, you know nothing interesting happens at work,” she said with a snort. “My boss is too terrified of anyone who might be lurking behind corners with a mask.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes, since most of his employees were Death Eaters, anyways. “He has no spine.” Truthfully, Bellatrix wanted to know how her sister was doing, but she felt strange asking, now that she had asked for some kind of escape. “If you ever want to come along, you know I could get you on a mission or two.”

He was not surprised when Bellatrix picked the emerald. It was a dark, cool shade of green cut rectangular shape and attached to a gold chain. If one were to flip it over, a curling M was engraved on its gold backing. A small grin tugged at Eugene’s lips as he nodded. “It does. Even those who don’t recognize it can feel it. It draws them in and yet makes them take a step back. I don’t have a reason to believe touching it would cause harm, but the man who sold it to me did.”

There was a wry note to his voice as he remembered the man. “He was… shabby. Lose threads on his clock. An unkempt five’o’clock shadow. I suspect he was either a gambler or an alcoholic; that’s why you usually the family jewels. He claimed it belonged to his great, great aunt and was able to provide a picture of a portrait where she wore it. It was her dearest treasure, according to family legend, and the necklace she was wearing when she died.” His crept to the side as he looked at Bellatrix. “He and his claims were unremarkable up until that point, but I could tell there was something more to. Even in a case, you can feel it. Dark magic has left its fingerprints on that jewel.

“And, if we are to believe Mr. Shabby, that dark magic was an Obscurial. One of her own children. Fascinating, if true. If being the key word, as Obscurials are incredibly rare. There are century-long gaps between records of them. But why would a family confess to so badly abusing their child with magic as to form one? So, I doubt the records, and I haven’t been able to sus out a different explanation. It could be the remnants of a faded cursed. It could’ve been touched by a dark spirit or creature. But I like the obscurial story. Don’t have anything else like it.”

The story made her even more intrigued, but truth be told, the story was what always drew her in to these objects. Eugene knew that about her, and maybe that was why they got on so well. He knew how to spin a tale; a tale of woe, one that would make her heart break for the family, but that also caused a glint in her eye. What if she could wield that power? The power to break those who might hurt her? Who might hurt Narcissa and Draco? Bellatrix was only a person, but blimey did she wish she could be a curse. Even if it meant she never would see her sister or nephew again. At least they’d be safe. And she could be alone, closed off from the world, and safe. 

“An Obscurial?” she asked, eyebrow raising as she stared at the object. Now that kind of power couldn’t be taken for granted. Then again, these days, they were rarer than Lord Voldemort himself, taking a step out of the darkness. She didn’t believe it, of course, but she wanted to. Eugene would know that. “Well, it’s a rather good story, after all. My uncle likes to tell a similar one, about a great aunt or something on his mother’s side.” Bellatrix shook his head, grinning at Eugene. “Then again, the other half of the family calls her mad, so, who’s to say who’s right?”

it had occurred to rabastan to ask after rodolphus’ whereabouts but he’d ultimately decided against it, as he wasn’t quite ready to come face to face with his brother after their last interaction. of course he’d have to face rodolphus eventually, but dinner with bellatrix was just about the last place he wanted to do it. he had the feeling she might just enjoy it too much. instead he pushed all thoughts of his brother out of his mind, or at least he tried, it was rather difficult when he was standing in the other’s house. fortunately, bellatrix had provided him with something to think about.

rabastan had been raised to hold the daily prophet at an arm’s length, never quite trusting what it reported. and while he’d tried his best to abandon the beliefs of his parents, it was one that had stuck with him. he still subscribed of course, in the event that the news was worth reading. but he’d found the prophet did its best work at the bottom of his owl cage. as such, he couldn’t help but chuckle at bellatrix’s remarks. “it really is garbage, isn’t it?” he replied, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “a tragic loss,” he replied, holding back his laughter, though he wasn’t quite sure why- it wasn’t like he had been friends with sybill. 

the fact that bellatrix remembered his favorite food came as a pleasant surprise to rabastan, a smile appearing across his face. “i’m surprised that you remembered,” he laughed, “i’m quite hungry myself,” he added, before gesturing at the door. “after you,” he quipped, before following behind his sister-in-law, taking his seat upon reaching the dining room. “it’s been a while since i’ve had a nice home-cooked meal.”

Family. It was a blessing, and a curse, truthfully. Bellatrix had always felt most at home with her sisters; most at home with Andromeda laughing and Narcissa reading. She had a new family now, one that still held Narcissa at it’s core, but that also included the Lestrange boys. Despite the fact that Rodolphus was merely a pawn in her game, he still meant something to her. Then again, if it came down to him or Narcissa, Bellatrix always knew who she’d chose, but that wasn’t something she was willing to discuss with her husband. And, besides, she needed Rabastan. Needed to make sure he was still on their side.

After all, they couldn’t afford another break. Not after Andromeda. There were too many cracks in their system, and if it meant that she had to be halfway decent to Rabastan, then so be it. She would feed him his lamb, suffer through dinner with him, and go to bed, satisfied that she was the glue for today. Bellatrix was not used to being the glue; that had always been Andromeda’s job, but since she was gone... well. Someone had to do it. Someone had to be kind. And Bellatrix wasn’t sure if that was what she was doing, because even her smiles felt too pointed. “Hmm, rather tragic,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure poor Sybill is going to miss this life, but she must have always believed in the next one.”

The Avery’s were quite a strange combination, especially for Bellatrix. On the one hand, she had the brother, who was careless and carefree. Someone who could cause trouble both for her and the Death Eaters. But then there was Freya, who followed orders like a professional. Who, much to Bellatrix’s delight, was just as in love with chaos but knew how to use it. That was the key, wasn’t it? Knowing when to use it and how much. Bellatrix had been less aware of that balance these days, but in the past, she’d been rather good at it. 

“I hope Kerrigan didn’t keep you long,” Bellatrix said with a sigh as the other woman sat beside her at the bar. They came here, sometimes, after a long day at the office. “Then again, I can’t fathom what she would’ve kept you for. It’s not as if we have any jobs coming in these days.”

“Ah, Brenton Avery,” Bellatrix said with a grin. “I know I should be talking about him, but I’m quite certain he hates me. I mean, it’s fair, I’m not the nicest to him. Or anyone, really.” In Bellatrix’s mind, though, that made someone weak. If they couldn’t handle her, why should she tolerate them? “He’s good for the Death Eaters, sure, but he drives me insane. I know he’s not much younger than me, but sometimes being around him feels like babysitting. So much energy in one person. It’s maddening.” Bellatrix blew out some air. “At least he’ll commit to some chaos. I’ll give him that.”

Narcissa was always Bellatrix’s soul. 

They were two separate people, sure, but Trixie was certain that her soul had been stripped from her body and placed alongside Narcissa’s. There was no one else in this world she trusted more than Narcissa; no one else she would give up a war for. The weakness that came with her sister was dangerous, she knew, but Bellatrix wasn’t willing to cut off her only lifeline. She wasn’t willing to lose the one person who still made her feel human.

So, she regretted bringing her to the meeting as soon as they stepped in the room. Lord Voldemort sat at the head of the table, and he stood upon seeing the Black sisters. She’d told him of Narcissa, of course, but made it clear that her own loyalty remained only as long as Narcissa remained out. She was not made for war. She had a son. Draco was meant to grow up safely, with a mum who cared about him. Truthfully, Bellatrix could care less if Lucius were to get hurt. He could for all she cared. As long as Narcissa and Draco were safe and sound, she would consider it a job well done.

The room was quiet, though, as Voldemort took Narcissa’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Bellatrix couldn’t tell if it was gentle, but her sister didn’t show anything of it. Then, though, she noticed Nagini. Godric, she wanted to scream. How could she be so bloody stupid? Of course the Dark Lord wouldn’t listen to her. Of course he would have to make a show of his power. The fear started in her legs, strong and steady, and she almost imperceptibly stepped in front of her sister, smiling at the Dark Lord as if she didn’t notice Nagini, getting ready to strike. He smiled back, sharp teeth. 

"Mrs. Tonks is a traitor to our family and the Black name,” Bellatrix said, raising a brow. “Anything else is simply gossip.” Of course, it was so much deeper than that, wasn’t it? Bellatrix would never admit it, but Andromeda was a woman of principle. She’d taught her that, she’d like to think; to stick to what you believe in. Her sister hadn’t fallen far from the tree, although she, seemingly, hadn’t followed their family’s ideals. She’d found her own. Stubborn and true. In another world, Bellatrix might have admired that confidence. At the very least, she was jealous in the fact that Andromeda was free. Free from the hell that Bellatrix lived in each day; free from the family that had taught her that chaos was a tool, and that anger was the only emotion.