serpentine.

rodolphus & bellatrix // @prvdigiouskill​ // february. the bridge.

His birthday had been quiet which is something Rod preferred. No big announcement, no party, not even a letter from his parents. It was perfect. But then the weekend ended and it was back to classes as a new month rolled over. Last month’s scandal still hung in the air, whispered around as if it no one else had anything better to do. Rod was grateful for it, the chaos that the Gryffindors fell prey to only made it easier for what he had done to fall through the cracks. He can strike again soon. But the quiet weekend he once had is over and it felt as if this whole day he couldn’t find a moment to be alone, to plan, to think. Even when he thought he was alone now, he heard footsteps approach and he felt her presence before turning around. Bellatrix Black, sister of his betrothed and someone that he admired but never needed to tell her such things. She knew. “You know, I would say fancy meeting you here but somehow I think you knew I’d be here. Have you been looking for me, Bellatrix?” 

Fuck. She was right. Sirius couldn’t hide from the fact that if he acted on impulse, no one would ever believe he would be innocent. His stint with Mulciber clearly backfired, causing an even bigger rift in the school, one that touched him and plenty of people he’s close to. But he had done that easily, without much help, because it was his inability to keep people close, the need to push away, that ruined everything. Bellatrix knew better than anyone that Sirius would be easy to play with, easy to attach to emotions and pull them as if they were strings and he was a puppet. They were close once. “Fine,” he told her, pocketing his wand, but keeping his eyes on her. “Call it fucking sentiment if you still believe in the word.”

As the conversation turned to his mother, Sirius felt his anger still bristle enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The grip that the woman still held on him, despite leaving, felt like an ice-cold hand around his neck. His lip stung at memories. “All she wanted from me was to make children. She wanted me to continue traditions I don’t fucking believe in.” He thought about the fact that his mother wanted him to marry Alecto and it had been one of the first things he truly wanted to rebel against. “I think she would love to hear that you’ve spoken to me, sought me out when we both know that she and your mother told you never to speak to me. I’m supposed to be dead to you, right?” Sirius’ voice stayed calm as he spoke, eyes trained on her no matter what, moving so nothing about him would be vulnerable. “Write to dear old Walburga, maybe she’ll send you a howler calling you filth and a traitor.” 

Bellatrix’s question made his jaw fall slightly, anger turning almost into a blind rage if he didn’t try to control it. It was never easy to tame the anger for a Black. Didn’t he learn that lesson after every single one of his mother’s outbursts? Instead, he focused his anger into that maddening way he could never take anything seriously, he laughed. “Dark Lord? Too afraid to say his name, Bellatrix? Voldemort can kiss my fucking arse before I swear fealty.”

She listens with faux intent, allowing him a moment to speak his ill intended truth into the air. How he believed himself to be above the decade spanning traditions in which their family had put in place. He’d believed himself to be better. His taunting does little to ignite any sense of worry within her, knowing that he’d sooner die than contact the family he so willingly left behind. Perhaps she’d like to see it to, to watch as any trace of Black blood that coursed through his veins was drained from him. How she’d believed him so unworthy now, unable to remember a time in which she’d thought the world of him. In which they’d sworn to protect one another, only to watch as he’d so eagerly abandoned her. As he’d drifted further and further away with a sense of morality that seemed to irritate Bellatrix more than anything. “Poor you, conforming to a society that only ever catered to you. What a pity, such a shame in fact that you’ve found yourself grovelling for scraps with the filth you surround yourself with.” 

Eyes roll and before she can swallow her words, he speaks the Dark Lord’s name and something inside her feels as though it’s succumbed to a forest fire. That her insides are inflamed, that someone as unworthy as her cousin would dare speak his name in front of her. It fuels her, the rage that lies within, that yearns to break free and for a moment she believes she may just spare him from her sins. However, she’d never quite been known for her restraint. Closing the gap between them, it’s through gritted teeth in which she speaks. “How dare you.” Lithe digits needn’t shake, for her fury is likened to hell on earth, destruction in her wake. “You speak his name in front of me as if you’re worthy –– “ Words are venomous, a snake ready to strike. 

It’s an ease that washes over her, knowing herself to be fully competent with nonverbal spells. She’d had much more practice in the cruelty of it all than most, had spent an entire summer in the company of men who’d believed her incapable to rise to an occasion only to prove them wrong. Seeing only their reflections within Sirius’ eyes, so much like her own that it had caused nothing but disgust to seep into her skin. The similarities had ended there, she’d remembered. She watches as it begins, lips curling upwards with a slight twitch. “Do you feel that, traitor?” Vocals soft and slow as she speaks, watching every moment, every twitch of his throat as airways close. Needn’t raise a finger nor wand to watch as he’d suffered at her hand, knowing fully well how it had felt to be choked by invisible hands. As they’d tightened around neck so roughly, with such divine determination, that ones breathing faltered in mere seconds. “You’re a disgrace to this name, to this family.” Something she’s certain he’s already been told, already accepted. “If you ever speak his name to me again I’ll have your head.” Continuing, she’s certain by now the constriction has hit an all time high. “It won’t be on orders, you won’t get to die gracefully. Do you hear me? I’ll murder you with my bare hands –– “ Sinister as ever, her smirk only grows. “Or perhaps I’ll let dear Regulus do the honours, he’s taken after me so magnificently.” Clearing her throat at the confession, she lacks interest in if he believes her or not, shaking off magic that coiled around him. 

Where: Hogwarts dungeons When: 9th January 1978 Who: Rosamund && @prvdigiouskill

She knew she would not be able to avoid the eldest Black sister forever. Especially not whilst still pretending it was mere coincidence that they were rarely to be found alone together. Rosamund was closer with many more people within their circle and it only made sense that a lot of their time in close proximity was shared with others, but Bellatrix had a certain authority within their little clique so to feel eyes on her as she left Potions should not have been a surprise.

“Bellatrix,” she said, starting a path through the dungeons which students rarely walked. Where hidden in shadows, they could speak undisturbed. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I do hope I have not offended too much by not coming to your house over break.”

She’d stalked as if on the hunt, still willing to delve into the intentions of most who’d seemingly sworn their loyalty to a cause in which she’d manage to make certain they’d believed in. Her own self righteousness allowing her to believe, neigh to know, that no one would’ve dared come for her spot beside him. That the thrown in which she so willingly occupied would remain hers and hers alone. She’d earned it, had she not? Had watched as blood drained from those who weren’t worthy. Had pledged Regulus’ loyalty and made absolute certain that he’d meant every bit of whatever courage he’d mustered in the murder of Xenophilius Lovegood, a waste of a man entirely. Her lips pursed as the soft purr of Rosamund’s voice broke through the dungeons, and yet she’d swallowed pride momentarily as dull gaze glanced towards the blonde. “Surely you’ve a good excuse –– I’d love to hear it.”

where: slytherin common room  when: january 10, 1978 who: @prvdigiouskill​

The castle was in chaos, much like Evan’s mind. The Marauders were back, or so he’d heard as pretty much everyone was talking about the annoying Gryffindor boys. God, he hated things like gossip, even that annoying girl Bertha had come rushing up to him asking him to sign some petition of hers. He’d ignored her but from that exchanged he’d learned what kind of ridiculous information was fluttering about. All utterly stupid but the chaos did release him from some of his worries, particularly those of Andromeda and Rosamund. But now he’d had enough of the whispers, and he retreated towards the Slytherin common room, recovering the password from an underclassman.

Here, no one cared about things relating to blood traitor gossip. Here his only worry was about his particular inaction, something that maybe he could get more away from if he acted like the grumpy seventh year he was. He plopped down on one of the coaches in the room, noticing that he didn’t see Lucius anywhere. Instead, he found the familiar figure of his eldest cousin, sitting on the chair next to where he’d sat, noticing that his fear of her was lessened. Maybe Andromeda’s words had comforted him slightly by her reassurances that she didn’t hate him, or maybe it was his newfound disinterest in what the other Death Eater’s thought anymore. There was a familiar air around her, the one he’d gotten used to while growing up and while she very well may threaten his life if he continued to be so, useless, as his father put it, it was at least something familiar. “Bellatrix, I see Andromeda and Narcissa aren’t with you.” He wanted to unload his thoughts, wondering if it was helpful or smart to confide in his cousin. She actually might be helpful in this situation. “Did uh, Andy say anything over break?”

She’d once believed Regulus to be the weakest link. The sole male heir to the Black family name, much to her disdain, that would surely follow his blood traitor brother out of her life. Yet, with all of her over seeing, the likelihood of that happening had depleted greatly. Only leaving Evan, a disappointment in her eyes. His quiet nature something of a cause of irritability within her. On his best days, he was distant, on his worst days, he was cowardly. However, he was family. The blood that flowed through their veins was something of a comfort to her, however hollowed it may have seemed. Evan was impressionable enough to her to mould and it was this sole purpose in which she’d managed to cling to. His vocals ring through her senses as she finds her gaze flickering from letter, wasting no time throwing it into the flames before them before glancing towards him. A brow raising at his statement, sigh passing through her lips. “It isn’t as if we share one body, Evan. They’re just as entitled to be free on the grounds as I am.” Almost annoyed, she bites her tongue, not wanting to create hostility when it’d become clear he’d sought her out. “Say anything?” She speaks through gritted teeth, inkling of what it is he’s remained so tight lipped about as she narrows in upon him like something of prey. “Now, what exactly would Andromeda have to say to me that would have your blood running cold, Evan? Care to elaborate? To confess?” 

Location: The dungeons, near the Slytherin entrance Tagged: @prvdigiouskill​

The cloak Rosamund had given her gave her security, like a Queen wearing armor, Narcissa felt invincible as she glided through the castle. Lined with cream satin that made the cloak reversible and made to look more like a casual Christmas gift, but she knew the purpose, knew the meaning behind the cloak, and while Narcissa hadn’t officially committed to the Death Eater’s yet, being associated with her oldest sibling gave her hope. Hope that she’d finally be accepted, finally have a chance to prove to the other that she wasn’t weak and was capable of so much more than she’d been able to display. Not that Bellatrix had ever given her so much as a second glance…Andromeda was the encouraging type, the maternal figure that divided the two, protected the little lamb from the slaughter. 

But lately, Andromeda had been raising questions that struck a chord, a fear in Narcissa that she was questioning too much and that it didn’t seem purely out of speculation. While she wanted to speak with Bellatrix about the matter, she also knew the potential consequences if she were right, and what would happen if she were wrong. No, she didn’t doubt Andromeda, but Narcissa felt that compulsion to protect her. 

Spotting Bellatrix just ahead, Narcissa felt hesitation in approaching, hating that she felt this way around the very person who shared similarities and blood, but Andromeda had always been easiest to talk to. Maybe she could finally create a bridge if she expressed her interest in following in Bellatrix’s footsteps. “This is a first, I don’t think I’ve run into you alone in quite some time.” Alone, meaning herself alone with her. 

The castle was nothing but a cursed reminder that she’d been shackled to the expectations in which her parents had put into place. She was to remain pure, to remain enslaved in her would be hell for mere months before she’d been allowed to reign free. To watch blood fall from the sky if she’d so wished it. There was a darkness that loomed within her, a wickedness so demonic that she’d oft shielded it from her sisters. From those she’d sworn to protect. Unlike her blood traitor cousin, Bellatrix had no notion to ever abandon blood. For, it’d been thicker than anything, had it not? The beginning and end of every single action that she drew her sword by. Their blood defined them, it was something to be envied. It’d been a shame such a thing was wasted upon the likes of the Gryffindor scum, she’d thought. A pity he’d shared not only that but a name, enough to make her sick. 

She glides through the corridors and people had parted like that of the red sea, cowering in a fear that she’d managed to rule with an iron fist. It was what fed her, as if she herself had become something of a hooded figure, gaunt and skeletal as she’d sucked soul from those with whom she’d thought below her. Nothing had brought her more solace than knowing that it was fear that she’d instilled, that within the murmurs that surrounded her name it was hairs that rose on the back of ones neck, cowering vocals and trembling lips. She’d never quite been soft enough to relate to Narcissa, blonde and porcelain enough to be mistook as a doll. Surely her parents had treated the girl as such, giving her carelessly to the highest bidder –– Lucius Malfoy. She’d never quite been as understanding as Andromeda, then again she’d never quite allowed herself to mistake naivety for such. 

The honey suckle sweet vocals of her youngest sister ring through her ears and it’s upon heels in which Bellatrix turns. Lips pressed tightly, whilst protective, she’d also found herself distant if only because she’d known her her pleasure was their burden. “Have you been avoiding me, Narcissa?” It’s part of her curious nature, brows rising in question as she speaks. “One might believe such a thing, what with such a coincidence.” 

People didn’t know what it felt like to be comforted by monsters. None of them saw the horrors behind the veil, being told someone was something, and seeing them for something totally different. Andromeda was not immune to the whispers, hearing them of her, of her sister—and specifically of Alecto and Bellatrix. Of which, the two women were bustling, suggestive tones laid against their names. It should’ve scared Andromeda. Secrets had kept her warm at night, kept her safe, even if there were ones saved from her sisters. But as Andromeda looked to her oldest sister, she didn’t see the rumors that plagued the school. She saw Bella. The girl who shielded her from the horrors of night, when monsters crept into her mind. It was Bella at her side, shaking her awake, reassuring her that the night was their friend, and she had nothing to fear. She had nothing to fear because Bella would be there to stop it.

How many could say they would ever understand that stake? That Bellatrix Black was all things, and more. An enigma. To Andromeda, she was her sister. That fear swept away, that worries could be washed aside, because Bella would make it right. There were many reasons that Andromeda fell onto the Black name, but to fall back, knowing that Bella would catch her, hold her, and shield her from all the things that terrified her to her core, that meant more than anything. It was why she stayed. It was why she didn’t run when Sirius had, it was why she was content to being miserable, to keep Bellatrix and Narcissa close, content and happy. The quip had a small laugh echoing her sister, as she held her hand over her lips for the moment, shielding the smile that grew to the comparison. But it fell. If Bellatrix was uneasy about the situation, Andromeda felt the pit of her stomach sink.

But I’ll assure you now, more than ever, that if anyone were the lay a hand on you –– a finger ––  they’ll be at the end of my wand. Do you understand me? Andromeda nodded her head slowly. It wasn’t a second doubt in her mind, but the paralyzed fear lingered like a bad itch she couldn’t scratch. That she wondered if someone would’ve tried to do something. That she should tell the likes of her fiancée, of others in the tower, if they tried—they would feel the wrath of Bella. There was something satisfying in that notion, something that twisted even the corners of her lips. In such a world where she didn’t see eye-to-eye, where she kept pieces of her heart hidden, she could rely on the wholesome truth that Bella would keep her safe. For a second, only briefly, it ebbed away at the fluttering nausea that always sat in her stomach.

The ideal to not worry, care for Bella’s wellbeing was something Andromeda shook her head too. “You can’t ask me to do that.” She whispered. “No matter what you want, I’ll always be concerned for you and Alecto. I’ll always watch after Cissy, but—Bella,” She whispered her sister’s name. “There’s a war waging outside of the castle, do you not fear someone will hurt you for bearing the Black name?” No. That much Andromeda knew. But as she had already come to guess, question—and be petrified of who bore the mark that haunted her nightmares and who did not, she was hoping, desperate, Bellatrix was not one of them. It was a childish notion, but one Andromeda held onto then.

Alecto and I, cut from the same cloth of sorts. Some days it seems as though she’d join me in the execution of Rodolphus if he were to ever do a thing to you. “It would’ve helped if both of you spoke up to refute the marriage then.” She interjected in a sour tone. That she’d have freedom to choose, instead of the natural impending marriage that hung over her head. She’d barely be fresh out of school when she’d be signing her name. “Honestly, how come I have to give up my name, I’m a Black. If I’m to change it, it should be of my own free will!” And that was why she was sour to the engagement, all of it taken out freely on Rodolphus, like he’d stolen the very thing she identified so ironically by. She was a Black. “Can’t you change their minds,” She shifted in her seat, a hopeful look rising to her expression. “Father would listen to you about it if it came from you.” He certainly didn’t listen to Andromeda the day the Lestranges’ departed Black Manor. “You could lie and express your disdain for the match and I’d be out, and—and I could just—“ Well, she hadn’t thought it completely through, a crestfallen look passing over.

“No one’s filling my head, but the Prophet’s been reporting more missing people, and I’m waiting for the day someone crops up in bits, and then we’ve got to start burying people, and—and—“ She sighed. “I don’t like uncertainty, and I don’t like the risk that comes with this, and I don’t like the mere idea of you or Cissa in harm’s way, while I’m off playing housewife to Rodolphus of all people!” She sat back in a huff, arms crossed. She stared onto the fire, flickers of embers within the honey-hued orbs as she softed, she would always to her sister. Her voice dropped to a whisper, as her hand reached out, grasping Bella’s and squeezing slightly, more so cautionary and needed for Andromeda than it might’ve been for Bella. “How can you be so sure we’re all going to be okay, Bella?”

When looking upon Andromeda, Bellatrix had merely seen a mirror. An image of a softer version of herself, hair slightly less darkened, gaze less clouded by the evils of the world. It was something she’d found a comfort, that even though Bellatrix had managed to take on the harshened opinions of the men she’d chosen to surround herself with, that Andromeda would never be plagued with such a thing. If Bellatrix had it her way, Andromeda and Narcissa would never be branded. She’d no problem with the Dark Mark being etched into her skin, burned so deeply into flesh that she’d felt it reach her bone. However, her sisters, her sisters were the last bit of shining purity in which she’d had hope for. They were innocent, kind and naive girls who’d needed protection. If that had meant that Bellatrix was to be made a monster, then a monster she’d become. If only to keep them from straying, if only to keep them from leaving.

She’d shackle them down, keep them hostage in a home filled with monsters to lurk, to contain, if it meant they’d savour themselves from the traitorous ideals that Sirius had allowed to leak into his mind. To her, they were bound by blood. They were something more than sisters, something closer. Soul mates had never felt like enough, it could never convey the feeling in which Bellatrix held for her sisters. As if they were one being, the best and worst of one another entirely. Her eyes snap at the assumption that she’d be touched for bearing such a name, that she would allow someone the power to harm her. The Black house was noble, respected, she’d be damned if she let others forget that. “Do you believe someone capable of harming me, Andromeda?” It’s asked with a curious brow furrowing, as if she expects her sister to doubt her own thoughts. She’d liked to believe herself untouchable, and even so, Dolohov and the Dark Lord had taught her spells that would perhaps even make their ancestors turn within their graves. “If you do, then how is it that you’re so sure I’ll be able to protect you? Do you doubt my power, my ability?” Anger itches beneath her skin, settling into her bloodstream. 

She’d narrowly escaped the notion of marriage, the suggestion coming from her parents had been dismissed in mere moments. Their eldest daughter too headstrong, too reckless and spontaneous to be tamed by any marriage, by any man. Bellatrix was a hurricane, wrecking havoc and leaving destruction so deeply rooted that entire cities had to rebuild. There’d been no hope in her bringing anything else than honour to the Black family name through her actions, not through the reliance of a man, allowing their name to die out. She’d had everything she could’ve wanted in the shape of a man so wrapped around her fingers, so disgustingly crass and cruel that they’d understood one another in the dark. Antonin Dolohov was a man of great reputation, and he’d gone unmarried because he was a monster like her, a man whose only loyalty was to the Dark Lord himself. He’d branded her as much as the Dark Lord had, and Bellatrix had remained satisfied. The disappointment lingering between the two girls as Andromeda quips towards her. “Would you rather have had Narcissa be married into that family? As an older sister it’s your job Andromeda –– she wouldn’t have been able to handle it, and Lucius, as daft and cowardly as he is, is much better suited for her.” She speaks through gritted teeth, unable to elaborate on exactly how she’d managed to avoid a marriage. “Why are you so hesitant –– “ She questions, wondering if it’s Rodolphus whose name should appear on her list next. “I can speak to father over the break and attempt to reason with him, but don’t allow me to speak for you.” It’s a nod of approval, damning herself for upsetting her sister and leaving her in such a position. “But, if you’re free of one disgraceful man, then surely they’d sell your soul to another.” The painful truth. That one day her sisters would not be her sisters, but women who’d belonged to men. She’d pitied them for it, that they were so unlike her, that they’d never quite fought hard enough against their parents wishes. 

“Don’t you realize that it’s exactly that that will keep you safe?” Agitation rises within her core, and she cannot help but shake her head. If she’d had to burn down the entire castle to allow Narcissa and Andromeda safe passage through the coming times, she would. There was little in which Bellatrix wouldn’t sacrifice for them, few she wouldn’t kill. However frustrated she’d become, not only due to Andromeda but the happenings as of late around them, she’d allowed herself to soften slightly as she hears the desperation within her voice. “Because I would sooner die than watch your demise, Andromeda. Because we’ve friends in this castle that remain loyal to our family, to the upcoming war that will surely come. Because I’m not going to sit idly by and allow anyone to threaten or harm the pair of you.” Voice churning, allowing sense of jest to follow her words as she speaks next. “No matter how much you doubt me and my abilities, I could harm the lot of them –– you realize this yes? That it’s not them you should fear, for they’re afraid of me.” Something she’d relished in. She’d be daft if she hadn’t known her sister to know of the rumours that swirled around her, that she’d been immune to them entirely. Bellatrix knew her reputation throughout the castle, and she needn’t be ashamed, reassuring Andromeda of the same. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, for Narcissa. No one I wouldn’t harm if they were to ever threaten to tear you away from me, do you understand?” 

There was no such thing as peace. Not anywhere within Hogwarts’ walls, not even the grounds, and he was sure as hell sure that there could be nothing peaceful in the Forbidden Forest. Sirius couldn’t escape the words that floated around the castle, hitting him at every corner, at every dirty look he received. Rumors about a Dark Mark and four boys were taken into the Ministry to be questioned, tried as Death Eaters for the whole world to find out about. So many of them spat his name as if it were poison, burning through the ground wherever he walked. That Sirius Black corrupting everyone he knows. Sirius and his mates were the ones who attacked Filch. They were the ones who cast the Dark Mark, they’re the Death Eaters causing chaos and havoc within the castle walls.

They were all wrong. But it hit a nerve within Sirius that he couldn’t shake. Not since Alastor McKinnon spat his name out in such a way that made him feel insignificant. That all of his tries and the freedom he fought for, it meant nothing because of the name he still bore. Hearing Bellatrix’s voice sent a shiver down his spine, the kind that filled him with a sick feeling, frozen in his spot. He wasn’t nearly as frozen as he was when he would see or speak with Regulus, or Narcissa, where it hurt. No, Bellatrix brought out a hot, wrought-iron sort of anger that only she could ever bring out. Ever since she began her hatred of him because he dared pull away from their family. You’re more of a monster than the rest of us. “Don’t,” he threatened, turning to face her, hands itching for his wand. Would he attack his own cousin due to the anger he couldn’t shake? At the mention of his mother, of her being proud, a hollow laugh escaped from him. “You’re hilarious, you know that? A real fucking joke, pretending that my mother could be anything close to proud about me. I didn’t touch anyone. I’m not the monster here.” Maybe he shouldn’t have took steps toward her, maybe he should have walked away. But with the anger that burned through him, he wasn’t thinking logically, recklessness holding the reins for his actions. “You know the real monsters here.” 

"We both know you won’t hurt me.” She raises a brow, all the while knowing it’s not because they share blood. Not because they’d once known one another better than anyone, mirrored images of the other. Same temperament, same unyielding rage that lay just beneath the surface. “That’d make you just as cruel as the rest of us, that’d make you like me.” It’s menacing, the way she studies him. The way he stands taller and yet, still, she cannot help but view him as a coward, as small as she’d hoped he’d felt. “See, if you so much as hex me, the whole castle won’t have the slightest trouble believing you and your –– “ Hand waves through the air carelessly, scoff escaping lips as she speaks. “–– blood traitors, mudbloods, filth, well that you did it.” It brings her nothing but pleasure knowing that she’d managed to find ways to turn the world against the man who’d turned his back on her. That the Ministry had painted them as guilty and in doing so had signed the boys death sentence upon their return to Hogwarts. 

“Walburga only ever wanted what was best.” What was inevitable, what had run through their blood from what seemed like the beginning of time. How was it that their first born had managed to become the biggest disappointment? That she’d been handed the title of eldest Black child, that without Sirius there the responsibility of protecting the rest of them had been placed on her head. He’d run away, a cowardice act in itself that she would’ve expected from the likes of someone else, anyone else. “Only ever wanted you to be more.” To be the best, to realize that the people with whom he’d surrounded himself in the lion’s den would never carry the same grandiose as the Black family. Noble and pure, thriving upon such a motto. “Perhaps I should write her, tell her just how much of a mistake it was burning every remnant of you was so early.” She plays with his feelings as if he’s nothing more than the rest of them, and to her he truly isn’t. Not anymore. Once upon a time, Sirius had been her best friend, her closest confidant. However, it was magic that had come between them, it was Hogwarts that tore them apart. His moral compass something likened to a hero complex, whereas she’d never had time for such frivolities, such lies. He’d grown insufferable, the closer he’d gotten to the likes of James Potter. How she’d hated to see them, carefree and reckless within the halls, enough to cause blood to boil. Yet, he’d almost made it too easy. “Tell me, Sirius, how long before you swear your fealty to the infamous Dark Lord? Surely he’d like to reward one of his most loyal followers.” 

Date: January 9th Location: Abandoned Classroom Availability: @prvdigiouskill​

Older men like Thorfinn Rowle had helped get her foot into the Death Eaters - secretly putting in a good word for her with the Dark Lord as a family friend. Pandora had shown some of the older members like Marcellus Mulciber and Darius Burke the spell she’d created for the lot of them. Though not yet having had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting the busy Dark Lord himself, Pandora could safely say they’d seen her worthy of probation. Such were the benefits of winning over a good number of the most senior Death Eaters. But, ultimately, they did not matter. It was women like Bellatrix Black who would decide whether or not she would stay. And so the summons that she’d recieved upon returning to school did not go ignored. 

Pandora quickly made her way to the instructed classroom, wishing Regulus would have been able to come with her for some comfort. Despite the way she visibly carried herself, the blonde was not particularly excited about officially meeting with one of the most frightening women of the school. “ — Bellatrix,” she greeted confidently, nonetheless, walking in to face her head on. “I was wondering when we’d be able to talk… Sorry I missed you during the break.”

Their crowd had been exclusive, had it not? Teeth gritting down upon the mention that others had been so recklessly admitted into something she’d believed herself only the most prestigious to find herself within. However, knowing fully well that the men and women who’d surely swear fealty to the Dark Lord now were nothing more than pawns. It was her, it was Dolohov, Lestrange, Mulciber, that would remain. That would find themselves with whatever it was the Dark Lord had promised them, whilst the lot of bottom feeders –– they’d suffer the consequences. She hadn’t been excited for their meeting, counting down the hours, watching as they’d passed ever so slowly. No. Bellatrix was something likened to a vulture, circling prey until every bit of life had drained from their eyes, Pandora had been no different. 

Her apology rings through the girls ears and she cannot help but crease pursed lips in the blonde’s direction. Uncertain as ever, how it was she’d been tasked with such minuscule tasks as this. Brows arch as tongue glides against bottom lip, releasing herself from spot so comfortably leaning against pillar. “Apologies aren’t necessary, Fancourt.” Words sharp, as if a snake ready to strike upon command. “I found myself rather busy over the break.” Branding a boy like cattle, watching as screams rung through the Black family dungeons. Most men in that situation had squealed like pigs. The women, however, well women knew pain inherently. They’d known what it was like to be torn apart, each limb in their once tender bodies to ache, only to allow moments to repair before suffering all over again.  Lithe digits ghost against wooden desks as she takes strides slowly. “What I’m more interested in is what you’ve managed to get up to during your holidays –– “