#quillkiller

Reapplying her lipstick and adjusting her dress, Rita grins as she looks in the mirror. Irresistible. She just hopes she agrees. 

Taking a calming breath, she plasters on the sweetest, most innocent smile she can muster and makes her way to the ballroom. People in elegant, elaborate gowns, hair styled in mesmerising ways. But none are as stunning, as captivating as the woman standing at the edge of the room, whose laugh she can hear over the chatter of the crowd and the small orchestra. Bellatrix Black. The most insane person she has ever had the misfortune of meeting. The most breathtakingly beautiful woman, with soft yet untameable black curls and dark, sultry eyes—one look into hers and Rita would instantly fold, though she does find it fun to make her work for what she wants. 

It has been years since she last saw her, and Bellatrix is just as beautiful as the day they graduated, the day they parted for what they thought was forever. But when her boss wanted someone to gather information on the Black family, Rita jumped at the chance to see the person who has plagued her dreams after all this time once again. 

“Would you like to dance?” she asks a man she has never met before, who eagerly leads her to the dance floor. 

She doesn't take her eyes of Bellatrix, who, after only a moment, locks eyes with her. Her eyes widen, then her eyebrows furrow, a myriad of emotions crossing her face in just a few seconds. 

In an instant, she crosses the room to stand before her. “Avery, fuck off.” 

The man she was dancing with scrambles away, desperate to get away from that imposing voice. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Having fun. Or, I was, until you got rid of him.” 

“He's a dick, I was doing you a favour.” 

“Sure, you were,” Rita deadpans. “Would you like to dance then? To make up for scaring him away.” 

“Fine,” she snarls. 

They dance and twirl without a care in the world—she's sure people would be judging them, two women, right now, but she couldn't care less, not when she is close enough to smell her smoky perfume. “I miss you, Trixie.” 

Bellatrix's body goes stiff, her movements stilted, eventually murmuring, “I miss you too.” 

“Want to get out of here?” 

“Go, I’ll meet you outside in ten.”