* BELLATRIX.

Despite not being a social being, Bellatrix was still a pureblood lady, part of the high society by blood and marriage. The Annual Charity Gala was part of their lives for as long as she could remember, her parents being involved in the arrangement of such event. With a dark blue dress that made her pale skin and blue green eyes stand out as gemstones, the witch crosses the ballroom, taking one glass of champagne. She doesn’t immediately look when someone approaches, taking one sip instead. “They have exceeded themselves this year. This actually looks... elegant.”

His surprise plays even better with her plan. He had no clue what had happened which meant she could use it for her advantage, twist the truth (or lack of) to her pleasing. Plant the seed of distrust in his mind. It was known to her that he wasn’t with the pack anymore but she didn’t know whether he was still part of them or if he had run away all together. With a sly smile on her lips, she stops to look at him. “Haven’t you heard? He is dead. Killed.” A pause as she looks harder in his eyes. Her theatricality comes in use at the moment as she attempts to fake a concern look. “The responsible is yet to be found, though it shouldn’t be difficult to think of a couple of names.” She takes a couple of steps in his direction, still a safe distance from what she considers a lesser species. The next blow needs to hit where it hurts. She is counting on his double nature to doubt himself and those around him. His ignorance of Greyback’s final moment is a bonus in her strategic plan to get him on her side. “Unfortunately there is one we both know very well.” Seed is planted, now she has to wait for the harvests. The witch doesn’t expect him to turn his back on his friend right away. She remembers how tight their group was, how Sirius used to speak so dearly of them. The exact thought makes her want to vomit. The signs were all there and yet they didn’t see it until it was too late. Bellatrix will avenger her family’s name and if she can destroy his in the process, the better.

“I was already here.” She hisses at him, making no intention to move. If he wanted to go on his merry way, he should be the one to go around her. Why would she bother? Curiosity gets the best of her and she leans forward, just slightly, to see a face that had crossed her path before. With a certain someone she would rather forget. Of course. The next words that come out of her mouth are spoken with scorn. “You can always go around. Get another pair of glasses as you’re at it. What on earth do you need these many packages for?”

“It was a different situation, he chose me, taught me everything he knows.” Everything she came to know was taught by Voldemort’s hand. He hand picked her, molded her to his vision. Not that she would ever admit it, foolish of her thinking she had a choice to follow him. Despite going gladly to the other side of the world with him to learn the Dark Arts, it was still a choice made for her. “But who said anything about leading alone? It is so much more fun having... a partner.” That was exactly what they were — partners. Husband and wife seemed so much formal, a couple felt like a joke almost. They were equals, the other side of the same coin. The distaste of the choice of his words give her enough strength to break free from his grip, her own hand finding a way around his neck. Always so volatile Bellatrix. “You have some nerve talking to me like that. It’s all lies. You know I am right, as always, otherwise why would you marry me? You want to unnerve me but you are not worth my breath.” He wanted to unsettle her just like she was doing to him and both were getting their way. That was the only constant of their marriage, these heated arguments. Always so intense, neither backing down. The only situations they would tone it down were at her parents’ house. Druella’s disapproving look was enough to keep her quiet for a few seconds and get her to cool off. Only once Cygnus had imposed his presence to get her to shut up. No matter how much her father loved the soldier he had raised, she was still expected to live up to a proper pureblood lady and talking back to her husband was not it. His touch is enough to make her heart race, his low paused voice making her breath faster than before. She returns her gaze to him, a smile on her lips that shows she likes what she hears. The perfect distraction from her dark mind and his unnecessary comments on her tainted family. “But I do.” Her lower hand squeezes the material under his pants, a smirk anticipating his reaction. “ It is a win win situation regardless of how it starts.” She is not wrong. The hand on his neck slides behind and instinctively, she pulls him closer to then slowly lick his lips. For someone as impulsive as Bellatrix, she is rather controlled with her actions when it comes to tease Rodolphus. They love the chase of the game, to see who breaks first, always tempting the boundaries. “So, the question is, what are you gonna do? Are you going to make me beg, Rod?”

Bellatrix: People say I am emotionally unavailable.

It is obvious she is succeeding on getting him to react, which only makes her smirk even wider. Mental games were just as entertaining as physically torturing someone for the eldest Black and when she couldn’t do one... she had to resort to the other option. “No, they do not. But neither do you. Always the good boy, doing whatever mommy and daddy tells you to do. We both know deep down you are a follower, not a leader.” It is not clear if she speaks of their marriage or the death eaters ranks. It could be both, as her opinion isn’t much different. “They are not my... family.” She hisses, clearly affected by the course of the conversation. If Bellatrix could set the traitors up in flames, she would gladly do it, and without any remorse. Loyalty was one of the few things she valued the most and the two particular betrayals within the Black family still pierced her heart as it did years ago. “You are lucky my parents chose you. Being part of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is a privilege and a honor.” It’s pathetic how greatly she thinks of her family, her blood, as if it puts her on advantage next to the rest of the world. Yet it does. Bellatrix knows it and she will gladly use it to win her way to the top of the world. She tries to fight off his grip with no success but she doesn’t give him much fight either, not yet. So she lets him pull her body closer to his, no space between the two and holding his gaze, she doesn’t waver. “That’s what I let you believe, dear husband.” With no room to move up her free hand, it finds its way below his belt as she leans in, lips whispering against his ear. “I always win. And you seem to like it when I beg. Among other things.” With that, a giggle escapes through her teeth and she bites his ear lobe to exemplify her thoughts.

“Hypothetically speaking, if one would like to torture their husband, what would be your go-to method? Do not say cruciatus, it is too obvious and I am afraid not as fun in this particular case.”

His threat makes her chuckle, her green eyes sparkling with rage but also admiration. She wouldn’t want a lap dog for a husband, just like she knew he would get bored easily if he had a trophy wife that couldn’t match him. That’s why they were perfect for each other — he was everything that she was not and the combination was something out of the ordinary. “Do I now? You’d know better than to threaten me and yet, here we are.” She replies back, a smirk on her lips as she manipulates her voice to sound lower, rather seductive. Which turns harsher when she speaks next. “Sister.” She corrects him. “I only have one sister.” She hates it how much power Rodolphus has over her when it comes to her family. No matter how greater they are, how better the Blacks are, the rotten apples still taint her name and her husband loves to bring it up, if only to remind her of her place. Her eyes follow his finger, biting her lower lip before looking up to him. A hand is placed on his chest as she slowly but firmly pushes him against the table behind them. “Are you sure this is a game you can win, Rodolphus?” 

“So now, not only I am an incompetent wife because I have a bloody brain of my own but I’m also way over my head for wanting this fucking world to fit our needs? If I remember correctly, you told me not every man had the balls to take over while he is missing, however, me being a woman is a problem now?” Anger had always been part of her ever since she was a kid. She had a bad temper, too impulsive for everyone else’s safety, not a grain of patience. This argument made her blood boil, in ways she hadn’t experienced before. She couldn’t say exactly what it is... it felt... was this jealousy? Rubbish. “I would love to see you try.” She challenges him, head held high as she had been taught. ‘You’re a Black, Bellatrix, keep your head high. Everyone else is below you.’ her father’s words echo in her mind. Another step, she is close enough to feel his heavy breath. “What you want and what you need are two very different things. Think a perfect little girl like my sister knows what you need?”

While they worked perfect together in the battlefield, at home was another story. They fought more than she had ever seen in the Blacks household. She doesn’t remember a single time when her mother had raised her voice to her father, yet that was Bellatrix’s favourite past time. Druella would often criticize her, complain where she had gone wrong with raising a proper lady. Clearly it had worked perfectly for the youngest which would only consume Bellatrix even more. So her husband’s words feel like sharp knives, making her raise her voice even louder. “So now you want the quiet stay at home wife who will nod, say yes sir and give you the the perfect little picture? You would get bored within a week!” The last sentence is spit out as she continues walking across the room but being stopped by his question. “Why of course! Who else?” Who else could survive the hurricane that was Bellatrix Black?

“Excuse me?” She’s turned back to the person who is complaining, still not sure where to go next. She’d been pacing, wandering across Diagon Alley, waiting for her husband to meet her there. Why don’t you do some shopping before? he said and she wishes he could swallow those words right now. Crossed arms, she slowly turns around, looking down on someone short, barely seeing the glasses between so many packages. “Who the hell are you?”

She is pissed to say the least. If they weren’t in such a vulnerable position within death eaters’ ranks, she would kill him on the spot. Turns out, Bellatrix knows a little about self restrain because it’s exactly what is keeping Rodolphus breathing as she storms into the room. “You bloody bastard! You would have chosen another Black sister? Are you dreaming of getting in bed with my sister now?”