Her right eyebrow twitched as her sister-a habit she had since childhood; it was something that happened any time she felt her nerves slowly (or, in many cases, not so slowly) reaching their end. In this case, it was an immediate result of Andromeda’s statement predictable green would be; not so much for the actual statement itself, but the detached coolness that reminded her far too much of their mother.
Utmost pride she may have in her family, but that didn’t mean was she exceedingly fond of the gutless puppet that bore her. Bellatrix knew a proper aristocratic marriage be expected of even her, but she refused to ever let her encompass her whole being; she was more than that, more than her mother had allowed herself to become. The societal expectations had shifted their own mother a woman with great potential into a resentful broodmare. Aloof. Detached. Indifferent. Cold. Things she feared she now observed in her own sisters eyes, though one thing she was absolutely certain of: Andromeda was not gutless. Not as she stood in front of her elder sister, voice chilly and air thick with underlying resentments and suspense that could easily be sliced with a severing charm. The bitterness of her tone when the words “approved of” were uttered enough to almost make Bellatrix take a step back in surprise- and Bella wasn’t known for her ability to back down.
But, of course, Bellatrix did no such thing, instead matching her sister’s crossed arms. High cheekbones and thin lips etched in vehement disapproval and challenge, stance tall and commanding; one more likely seen on her before a duel than a conversation with her own sister. “As a matter of fact, Andromeda, no, it isn’t about him. It is about you.” Her voice borderlined on caustic, an intonation most often reserved for enemies or those she deemed beneath her.
“Remus, imbecile, I don’t give a bloody fuck what his name is. What I do care about is this newfound pious behaviour. Andromeda, Funny, with such acerbity and reprimand toward me, I could have easily mistaken you for Druella. Though I admit, even she would have the sense to avoid his kind,” she began again, dagger-eyes and a mismatched pantomime smile of condescension adorning her ivory countenance.
“Since when would it matter to you in what matter I speak to him? Last year would he not have been more than a drooble stuck to the bottom of your shoe, a half-blood nobody. Why the sudden change?” The question was genuine, but didn’t come without a slight narrow of eyes and crease of forehead. Yet the next words from her sister’s mouth were the straw that broke the camels back. She was lucky she was who she was, lest she would no sooner find herself at the unfortunate end a hex- or curse.
“Well, Andromeda, as happy as you were to say yes, I do believe you’ll find yourself just as happy to tell him to sod off. I’ll be more than happy to accompany.” Her arms remained crossed, though her fingers tightened together and with one step forehead her stance became more rigid. Demanding. It was not a request of her sister.
Despite her reputation, Bellatrix hated this- or, at least, hated it when it came to Andromeda. Small quarrels and disagreements may have dotted their childhood, but overall they had worked together in their confrontations. Time had changed things, though, and no rose-coloured blinders could convince her otherwise. Something was different, and though she wasn’t sure how or why it happened, it had. Two storm clouds filling so much of the air were bound to collide at some point, and the resulting blast was bound to be disastrous.
dededos
stormborns
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
jacobvanloon
areudirty
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
