#thedamelestrange

March 17th, 12:30 PM

Fixing the portkey for the Bones bitch was possibly the easiest thing Seymour had ever done. She was already scheduled for a portkey that day. He didn’t have to sneak through the paperwork, he had access to it. No one questioned him at all. The portkey had already been made, so Seymour hung around during lunch, went into the room where they were stored, and found the one meant for Bones. He made a copy of it, charmed the copy to take her to the schoolhouse in Sproxton, and destroyed the original.

All he had to do then was wait.

  March 17th, 5:30 PM

Mrs. Bones touched the portkey, preparing herself for the dizzying, yet oddly satisfying experience that was travelling in this particular way. She had done it so often before that at not one moment did she question what was about to happen to her. Her mind had labored tirelessly at work that day, and the brief moment of an intermission with her thinking was welcome. But the smell of the mold, the rotting floorboards, immediately made it known to Mrs. Bones that she had not reached her supposed destination. The fact made even more clear as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, three silver masks, shrouded in black cloaks.

  March 17th, 5:35 PM

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” said one of the disguised figures. Mrs. Bones was trying hard to figure out who they were by their voice alone, but either they disguised that too, or she simply didn’t know who they were.

“Looks like we finally have a play toy,” stated one of the three, this one in a distinct female voice.

“Yes, and she arrived perfectly on time. I suppose people actually can listen,” replied the last of the bunch, a note of arrogance and pleasure streaming from his words. Periwal had done his part nicely.

  March 17th, 5:37 PM

“Well, you have the wand, don’t you?” Rodolphus turned towards his younger brother, eager to begin their experimenting.

“Of course I do. Getting it was easier than convincing you that you need another drink.” Rabastan’s voice was light, but underneath there was a current of readiness, and anticipation. All of their planning had been leading to this, the moment in which they finally got to use the skills they had so often practiced with.

Bellatrix, however, had grown bored with their talking, and grabbed the borrowed wand from Rabastan and muttered a spell that threw Mrs. Bones into a chair, and strapped her in tight. The wand that Mrs. Bones had been trying to grab for was left on the ground, far from its owner, far from the open hand that so desperately wanted to escape.

  March 17th, 5:40 PM

There had been three minutes of silence before Mrs. Bones finally spoke up.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice did not shake, although she was most certainly terrified. She was also, and most importantly, a Bones, and they did not back down from a fight, and it looked as if this was most certainly that.

“Want from you?” echoed Rabastan, “We only want your compliance.”

“Like hell you do,” replied Mrs. Bones.

Bellatrix sneered, “I cannot wait to break this one.”

She’d been standing alone in her bedroom for too long. After the old woman had finished buttoning the dress Narcissa had sent her out of the room to wait downstairs with her mother and sister. The clock in the corner ticked on, leaving no room to doubt how long it had been. Five, ten, fifteen minutes, but she couldn’t stop staring at the dress. The embroidery was so fine, the skirt so soft and cool. She twisted her hips back and forth, feeling it slide across her bare legs.

It was beautiful, everything she’d imagined and dreamed. She could see herself floating down the aisle, her whole future waiting at the end. It was almost perfect. She’d fallen asleep dreaming about the ceremony since she knew what to imagine, and there had always been two women standing at the end waiting for her. Of course the man she was marrying was more than anything she had ever hoped for, but even he couldn’t fill the hole next to Bellatrix.

"Narcissa?" Someone called up the stairs.

"Coming," she said, biting her bottom lip and shaking her head. She smoothed the dress and strode to the door, leaving every thought she could in front of the mirror.

Her mother beamed and Bellatrix seemed to look less grim than usual. Druella fussed over the dress for what seemed like hours while the seamstress flitted to and fro, adjusting, pinning, and tapping with her wand till finally her mother relaxed. She tied on the black sash and stepped back, hands on her hips.

"I do believe we have ourselves a bride," she said, pursing her lips. "Bella stand with her," she commanded, directing the two sisters together.

Regulus apparated down the street from the Lestrange Manor, taking small, slow steps, and stopped to admire the detail in the architecture of the house, and the surrounding detail of the place. It was beautiful really, but in a scary sort of way - grand and old looking, unlike his parent’s place. It looked like what an old pureblood family’s home should look like. He shuddered to think what it would be like to live in a house with the Lestrange brothers, the parents, and Bellatrix, all at once. Regulus never bothered to interact with the family, but he knew enough to know that Rodolphus was not only scary in personality, but in looks, Rabastan was freaky in his own way, and Bellatrix was hardly approachable, but he had to do this.

I'm not sure how to go about this, so here it goes. Narcissa brought to my attention that we are in fact not strangers, and I thought maybe we should get to know each other. I see you often, but I never get a chance to speak to you directly, even though we're family. 

Would you care for tea this afternoon?

Yours,

“You have served me well. A reward shall be in order. A bit of fun, I might say.”

The Death Eaters nodded eagerly at the sound of the word ‘reward.’ Mutters of “thank-you, my lord” were circulating everywhere. One or two of them even bowed. Bellatrix giggled, and reached out towards the Dark Lord. Regulus stood motionless.

“A spree. Raid a filthy muggle town. Any which one you want. Have fun with it.”

It was pathetic how they acted like puppies, squealing at every word.

Alecto's words repeated in his mind. She had said that being a Death Eater was like someone dictating your every move, being someone’s puppet. He was unwilling to believe it when she first said it, but she was completely right, and he didn't know what to make of it.

In the last several weeks, he had mostly avoided the Death Eater scene, and spent more time in public talking with random people he met on the street. He spent more time with Narcissa, and even got himself laid. He almost smiled to himself at the thought of the blonde who spent more time drunk than sober, but he caught himself just in time.

Blinking several times, he brought himself back to the present. What was wrong with him? Lately, not only had he not shared physical space with the other Death Eaters, they seemed to escape his head space as well.

Focusing his attention back on the Dark Lord, he watched as his cousin Bellatrix hung on his every word, and cooed over him like he was a fucking god; a beautiful, rare specimen. Why couldn’t he just be like that? His parents would be proud and he’d probably rank up or some shit like that.