#bellatrixed

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1964

“It’s beautiful!”. “It’s just a stupid dress, Evan, I have a hundred more.”

She lets him try it on anyway. Rolling her eyes and telling him how ridiculous he looks. “Your hair isn’t long enough, Evan, you need long hair to be a princess.” But when he begs her to keep his secret she swears on her baby sister’s life. And Evan trusts her. 

1975

 “What if I’m not cut out for this?”

The look she gives him is somewhere in between disbelief and pity. “You are. You will be.” Evan isn’t convinced. He isn’t as brave as she is. Not as sure. His path his right there in front of him, all he needs to do is to start walking. Yet he hesitates and when he does she is right there, his guiding light. Another promise, albeit a silent one. She won’t let him go astray. So she goes ahead, and Evan follows.

1981

“Promise me he’ll live, Bella!”

THE   NIGHT    DRAGS   ON   & moonlight manages to soak itself within girls’ effervescent skin . For they dabble in happiness but only together . Gowns draped against cobblestone gardens . A sight most magnificent if there ever was one , Bellatrix Black ever glowing in the direction of her younger sister. Andromeda , herself , awe struck at the fantasy of it all . Blood purity seeps through their veins , a constant bridge she’d harboured fear to cross. For tonight , she’d pondered , tonight was peace , tonight was happiness.  Summer’s eve beats down upon the girls , gifted in laughter as much as one could hope. Tentative darkness ever looming now seemingly a distant memory .   “ Mother’s staring. “ Words tease Andromeda’s tongue as glint of gold embroidery hits sheen of moonshine . Troublesome pair it’d seemed, the girls were no match for the eloquence that carried Narcissa most gracefully across manor grounds. She , a swan within a family of ravens. How peculiar then that Andromeda had always felt the odd one out . " I fear she’s worried we’ll ruin her party. “ Light laughter to follow jest , whispered secrets shared among blood . Hands raised, pallid palms press against that of her sisters as , once more , dresses mesh beneath darkness and they’re sent spinning across dance floor . 

❂ = wiping blood off their face .

But just then, his eyes locked with Bellatrix Black, and a nasty voice in his mind whispered, “now you’re really in for it, Lupin.”

Crimson light spun from her wand as she yelled a spell, and Remus barely had time to duck before it exploded on to the shelf behind him. Bloody hell. Two prefects, dueling in the library? McGonagall would skin him the next time she saw him. Madam Pince yelled shrilly again, and the momentary distraction caught the Gryffindor off-guard.

White-hot magic slashed across Remus’s cheek, searing pain that immediately began to throb. He should’ve cried, he should’ve, but years of cuts and gashes had made him numb to the sharp, familiar feeling. A cold hand slapped him hard across the face, smearing thick, sticky blood across his pale skin. Bellatrix was smirking, the power of an empress in her dark eyes, triumphant and glittering under the approval of her onlooking peers.

“Now you’ve got my filthy blood on your hand,” he commented absently, managing somehow (the shock, perhaps) to not completely lash out at her. Remus wasn’t so foolhardy as to provoke her; Greer Wishart was the only one he knew to have done that and made it out alive. He supposed this would put him on her list, but he knew he’d get on there eventually, just like James and Sirius and Peter would (or already had).

Before either of them could act, Professor McGonagall rushed in, absolutely livid. Remus suffered through a half-hour lecture and three hours in the infirmary afterwards, but when his friends swaggered into the ward and saw the bandage on his cheek, he simply smiled mildly.

“It was worth it.”

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