TONKS. T O N K S. The name alone is a knife twisting in her guts, cutting && slicing bits && pieces. Her sister had been a Black. Now there was no more sister, a burned spot on the tapestry, a memory haunting her if she was not very careful. This name was a stranger’s name, an unworthy name, stained && tainted by the world, not worthy to be even said by her tongue.
Never to be reversed, to be forgotten, yet forgiven.
The proof right before her eyes, the mistake, yet too far to grasp, to erase. Still she tried, hands reaching out, held by shackles, held by bars, cold, cold iron. She wondered if her anger
would ever burn enough to MELT them away. They only thing that turned burned black were her insides.
❛ You don’t hide ? YOU DON’T HIDE ?! ❜
SHE had looked for her sister. If it was to grasp her by her hair, to pull her back home or to KILL her, Bellatrix was not certain anymore. But she had searched, a wolf running through the country in search for its prey, sniffing and howling, and yet still finding NOTHING.
❛ You are safe NOW, because of this ❜
A fist met the bars, a pain thundering so very sweetly through her body. The bruises would remember her of what she would do as soon as she was out of here, her task, her duty.
Unyielding,that was it, unbroken. At least her spine still held her head upright, at least it was not her, a heap of bones && flesh quivering under their sobs && suffocating on their screams,no, she was ALIVE, was still her own as she whispered, cackled.
Words were spun to a song, a twisted nursery rhyme echoing from stones, from walls.
Look Out / Look Out / I am coming to get you, get you all / all / all.
ONCE AGAIN THE SHOCK of seeing her mother’s hollow eyes spitting HATRED and IRE at her through the bars of a cell door proves a burden too heavy to bear. She watches as the woman, like a rabid dog ( reminding herself THIS IS NOT YOUR MOTHER THIS IS NOT YOUR MOTHER THIS IS NOT YOUR MOTHER this is a wild animal not even human anymore ), pounds at the wood and the metal as if by sheer will she might free herself of her bonds.
Backing away, stumbling steps, trying not to trip on the uneven stones encrusted with centuries of turbulent thoughts and murdered dreams, she breathes heavily. Her chest is heaving with kept emotion, FURY continuing to course through her, tinging her hair red at the edges. She’s always been EMOTIONAL, perhaps too emotional for her choice of occupation, but, in instances like these she can’t help but feel STRONGER because of it.
This will FUEL her for the months, years, to come. She will remember that THIS is what she is fighting against, what she is protecting her family and her friends and her entire way of life against, and she will be stronger. And it only makes it better when she thinks that this is, in all likelihood, the very opposite of what Bellatrix Lestrange was hoping to accomplish. The woman standing on the other side of that door has only made her niece’s desire to be an Auror more real, more tangible, more WONDERFUL in a strange sort of way.
❝ I’ll be lookin’ out, alright, Auntie Bella ----- ❞ the name is a TAUNT thrown from her lips to the wind ❝ -------- an’ you should be lookin’ out, too. With any luck, more of your precious Dark Lord’s cronies’ll be thrown in here, with me t’thank for it. You should know, it’s partly ‘cause of you that I decided t’become an Auror, aren’t you PROUD? Enjoy your cell. ❞
It’s time for her to go. So without another word she turns ( thankfully without any sort of errant rock getting in her way ) and stalk back to where she had come, far away from this woman masquerading as family. She has a real family waiting for her back home, and she now knows exactly what protecting them entails.
