#sheweapon

“oh, ted,” andromeda giggled almost silently, a smile growing onto her face without her knowledge. just thinking about her husband made her happy, in a way nothing but her little family could. ted and nymphadora? her whole life, truly. 

snapping out of her reverie, andromeda looked down at her glass and blushed slightly, a half-smile still present on her smile. “did you know that i didn’t think i’d be able to stand him at first? some teachers put us together to run some kind of studying group, and he was a year younger, and so galant, and i just… i had preconceived ideas. but god, i’m so glad i didn’t stick to those ideas and learned to know him better. at first, i thought he was mocking me when he offered to walk me back to the dungeons? can you imagine that? i thought ted was… being mean to me. i was the opposite of innocent. i thought people only meant harm, and he showed me how wrong i was. god, he showed me so much. he showed me what it’s like to love freely. not to be restricted by what’s supposedly right and wrong. not that i thought blood purity was right before him. don’t get me wrong, i had a soul or whatever before i met ted. but he helped me realize some things were worth fighting for. and god, he’s so amazing. so perfect, so wonderful, so amazing. and he’s so complex, too. i feel like people don’t really get to see the real ted, sometimes. like, okay, so... i don’t know how to explain it, but he’s much more than just a nice guy. which he is, but i mean... he’s more than just that. and i love him so much. i’ll never regret choosing him. he’s my person.”

swallowing somewhat nervously, somewhat angrily, andromeda looked down into the bottom of her glass. “bellatrix is... was. was my sister. but... growing up? she was my defender. i relied on her more than i ever relied on anyone else, except myself. and to see the hatred in her eyes when she found out about ted and me? it killed me. my sister, my protector, just... hating me. fuck. i shouldn’t care. i shouldn’t give a single care. the black family isn’t a family, it’s politics. it doesn’t matter who you’re related to, it’s about your reputation. about what you do. about what you think. about whether you shut up or speak up. you can’t be yourself in that family. or well, you can be. if you’re bellatrix or narcissa. if you’re lucky enough not to care.”

she’d be FOOLISH to act as though the threat hadn’t felt like a blade pressed against her neck. every inch of bellatrix lestrange was covered in violence, that much mary macdonald had been certain of. yet , as jaw flexes and she manages to clench what dignity she can exude to the woman, mary feels nothing but a rising heat within her bodice. anger, it’d been known, was one thing in which mary could never quite control, yet in times like this she’d somehow managed to bottle every ounce of it that coursed through her tiny frame and repress it. she’d been ripped apart, all broken parts, and placed back together without so much as a second glance. when people spoke of her, it was that she was just not right. much of the same, she’d thought, could be said about the woman in front of her. elegant from her pointed nose to the ravenous hair that cascaded over her features. if anything, it was intimidation at its finest. “i’m not afraid.” a lie if she’d ever told one. as much as she’d told herself that she could handle it, as much as a front she’d put on and the brave unwavering face she’d held, mary couldn’t help but feel as though she was back beneath their pureblooded trance once again. as if they’d had control of her, as if she were their puppet.  

“ –––– now get out. “