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daffodxl:
“ I’m afraid not everyone can smell the roses, Rodolphus. Perhaps they don’t have as much to be thankful for as you or I? ”
"Perhaps. Or perhaps they are too distracted to realize they should stop and smell the roses. Glad to see you up, darling - you sure gave us a fright.”
"Spring sure brings a fresher breeze with it, doesn’t it? Too bad half the castle is still so...melancholic.”
Send a ♡ to hear how my character would tell your character that they loved them without actually using the word "love."
sweethoneybird:
It was comforting - to be surrounded by so many bodies, so many students that for once might not look at her with sad smiles and pity laced in their eyes. The typical excitement that accompanied a trip to town was not lost on her classmates. She supposed they had every right after being cooped up in the castle for so long, but while her fellow Ravenclaws could so easily feel relief away from the castle, Vegas was left with a hollow sense of faith in their freedom. The fresh air and familiar routine was cathartic, certainly, but the blonde could not find it in her to turn a blind eye to why their trip had been delayed in the first place.
Perhaps it truly was a sense of self-pity that allowed the attack to linger deep within her bones long after the physical wounds had healed. Perhaps the whispers were right, maybe she was just the unfortunate victim and nothing more… But Vegas knew better. Whether the others wanted to accept it or not, the storm they had not long ago predicted had arrived, and she would not be the last muggleborn to face the same fate.
The sickness in the pit of her stomach at the mere thought was enough to wake her at night. It was in the hours she could not find sleep that she had decided to stay when the war called her home. She owed it to herself to find an inkling of normalcy, to be prepared and healthy when the time came. Still, she could not help but feel she should be doing something more than enjoying the simple mindlessness that came with watching her classmates have fun - unable to share their fervor.
Miss Adelaide …
The chaser in question jumped, startled by the Slytherin’s sudden appearance. She feared some things, no matter how far her recovery might come, would never change. Exhaling, she lifted a hand to still her beating chest, smiling sheepishly at the realization of the company she held.
“Mr. Lestrange, you’ll have to forgive me, it seems I still startle quite easily. How pleasant to see you after all this time.” His gentle smile was soothing to the thrumming in her ears - a welcome surprise after the onslaught of cautious gazes and hesitance so typical of her peers. “Of course, your company is more than welcome! How could I resist such a generous sentiment?”
Victory.
"You are very kind, Vegas - do you mind if I call you by your given name?”
He asks, nearly sincere interest dawning in the cold gaze of his eyes. He’s swift to address her state; noting slight darker circles under her eyes and a tired gleam on her face. But there’s none of the bruises he full knows were on the corner of her lips, nor of the wound on the side of her head. Even Rod had to be impressed with Madam Pomfrey and her quality work. It almost seemed as if nothing ever happened.
“Do not apologize, however. We live in startling times, but alas, it is a nice day today - almost spring.”
The boy adds, words a calm and composed baritone tone as he begins to walk by her side. There is danger in proximity, and even more so in curiosity, he knows this well. Rod would not be so foolish as to give in to such a trivial matter as curiosity, his is a need to know. To confirm and to secure the ideas already running rampant in his mind; not only for his benefit, or that of his younger brother - but for a feature greater than this.
So he clears his throat, after a discreet glance to those surrounding them before he focuses again on the young blonde. “I do not wish to pry in your matters, Miss Adelaide, or bring to life nightmares of the past few days. But I do feel it necessary to mention that the actions made against you and our classmates have no forgiveness.
Such cowardice.”
He spews the word, as if it burnt his tongue, and mirrors outrage in his face. A SNAKE, after all, with venom in his blood.
Of course the boy knew what they all said about it - even if the anger and indignation was directed against someone who had no hand in the matter. Loud whispers everywhere and slanted glances wherever and whenever his younger brother was close. Fools; they deserved all that would come against them. Ah, but one step at a time.
Daniel Gillies for Action Against Hunger.
reaching out | RODOLPHUS & BELLATRIX
There’s an ACHE in her bones that begs her not to, but she seeks him out. A numbness shrouds her mind, just enough to cease the SCREAMING. Admitting to herself that she might need him, in ANY fashion of the word, makes her feel small. Hopeless & delicate – – But she needs someone. There’s a storm in her soul that’s threatening to swallow her whole, and all she needs is an anchor.
NARCISSA— it would usually be Narcissa. It’s the first time the discord seems to really sing true; her family is frayed, unravelling before her eyes. Never once has she ever imagined a life without her sisters, her cousins. It feels like she’s being FLAYED, piece by piece. She’s stripped, vulnerable. ALONE.
The air outside the castle seems SUFFOCATING. There’s nothing fresh or welcoming about the outdoors, skies grey with the sun blotted out. The witch can feel eyes on her as she stalks towards the bridge. She’s stone faced and tall, not quite the shattered image one would expect with her sister trapped in the Hospital Wing. But there’s a warning sign in mismatched eyes, signaling her unhinged state. She’ll likely come UNDONE for the whole school to see shortly. Won’t that be a sight to see.
But she’s tight lipped as she takes up the spot besides him. Her eyes turn down, staring out beneath the bridge without once lifting her gaze to look at him. She WANTS to reach out to him, but can’t will her body to do so; fingers curl one the edge of the bridge until her knuckles are stark WHITE. There’s no comfort between them and she’s a FOOL to have sought him out in the first place.
“ I—- “ her voice cracks, hoarse from SCREAMS. She wants nothing to do with him, wants to say nothing to him. But there’s only her own voice in her head and the images behind her eyes, tearing her apart. She could say nothing, but the silence will KILL her before he shows an inclination of worry for her. She knows this.
“ ––– I can’t fucking LOOK at her. ”
"You HAVE to.”
While there is no hesitation in the baritone of his voice, his is no command nor order, but a soft, firm, and ultimately true fact. Rod did not have to see her to know her state of mind - to know that the already murky spaces of her mind dirtied with the deed they had done. They had all notice the eerie silence in her presence, and the shadows in an already terrifying gaze. Vulnerability did not do well to a volatile witch dancing in the thin line of sanity. Her was a risk none of them could afford to have.
“What happened, what we did - it will not get fixed until your sister wakes up. It was a m i s t a k e - an incident, none of us could have foreseen it. And while that remains, you need to realize you cannot afford what could happen while she’s asleep.”
It is then that he turns to her, dark gaze tracing over the tired features in his fiance’s face. There was nothing akin to compassion in the expanse of his body, but understanding was abundant. Had he been in her place, even he could hardly tell what he would do - and still, Rod would not risk knowing what he will do if Rabastan was in anyway affected by such an insolent twist of fate.
“Bellatrix,” the wizard says, stepping closer to him - a hand reaching to the side of her face, against the contours of her jaw; cautious and still determent to have her look at him. “You have to at least visit her once. You have to play the role as a sister. For your own sake, for ours, and for hers. Have you listened to what they whisper? The school believes Narcissa took a part on this. What would they think if you as her sister cannot even see her? They’ll invent what they can’t explain.”
Sheep loved to follow a single thought, and vile already waved their way through the halls.
“Be angry. Be raging. But do not be absent, because then, it will all be absolutely fucked up and none of us can afford to do that, now, can we?”
Not only for them, but for the mission they were sent there - and for those that would held them accountable outside of the castle walls.
There was something to be said, about how casual this all seemed - including himself.
How n o r m a l it all was that the students rushed out past the main courtyard and to the grounds; animals allowed a minimal taste of freedom after endless days of seclusion. Another weekend with another trip with the same group that fall into the same old cycle of school life. How many would recall the curfew hour was no sooner? How many would remember that but days ago they could’ve lost a classmate? More importantly - how many would care to think that they still could. People did prefer oblivion, and a reality that painted black and red was one easily and readily ignored.
It is not caution, however, what drags his steps slow behind the crowd. It is simple reassurance - knowing that there was no one else doing this, and now, he had a lot more to risk. While confidence resided in the strength and power of a spell cast upon the targets days ago, Rod had to know what they were told, and what - if anything at all - they could recall. Voices, perhaps? Flashes of light, footsteps behind them...or ideally, nothing at all. A charm to the mind is complex and without true precision, could be anywhere from fatal to or plain out ineffective, and that he could not afford.
"Miss Adelaide, I am glad to see you out of the castle.” The curve upon his lips is as charming as the gentle glint in his eyes; a nod to the girl standing alone behind the group of Ravenclaws lingering near by. “I’m sure you’ve been showered with affection by your fellow housemates, but allow me to extend my good wishes to your prompt recovery - and my company, if you do not mind it for a short while?”
fraternity matters | RABASTAN & RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE
“And what a war it’ll be, brother mine.”
There is no humor in his words despite the joke, dark eyes slanted and gazing out into the vast abyss. That is, after all, the only fucking way their little games can go - the only strings that the Dark Lord cares to pull on his puppets. Prove your worth. Show your loyalty. Never let it be said that the would be Death Eaters aren’t creative in their desperation for time and attention. Notoriety. Power.
Voldemort knew what bone to dangle and they were all salivating at the mouth like dogs.
He takes the bottle once more, drinking down the bitterness building deep in his stomach. Rabastan doesn’t want to think of the blonde bint; doesn’t want to think about his own part to play in whatever wretched shenanigans kept little Saint Black out so late. He’s washed that all away with the blood, gone, gone, gone, down the god damned drain.
Hasn’t he made it his mission to wash his hands clean of the entire bloody lot of them? Both brothers surely knew by now the bloody fucking headache of dealing with the Black sisters?
“You put a lot of faith on one girl’s loyalty.” The words are quiet, careful not to carry on the wind to uninvited ears. He’s itching for blood and violence; really only needs one good excuse to go on the murderous rampage they all accused him of.
One thing: He was nobody’s sodding fool.
“I suspect you’re right. She won’t give up her batshit sister.”
For the same reason that Rabastan kept his silence, Narcissa would never utter a word against her sister. It’s not as if the entire castle isn’t aware of the girl’s unwavering loyalty to her family name. Staunch. Cold. He wondered, though if she couldn’t be as unforgiving as the rest of her brood. Hell would come whether it came from Narcissa herself or by way of her sister, Andromeda.
“It won’t be over, though. Not by a long shot, big brother.”
There was a certainty in his voice - a clarity of words he didn’t often use. Pandora’s box had been opened and never again would the castle or the people within it be the same. Lines were being drawn that very moment, decisions made and the momentum of an inevitable war put into full swing.
“If that girl wakes, there will be a price to pay for her silence.” Perhaps not in the usual way, but something darker. Whatever she had to say would direct the course of things to come.
“If she doesn’t wake, war will be the least of our worries.”
Idiots. The entire fucking lot of them. Himself included.
He passed the bottle back, running a tired and frustrated hand through his unkempt hair. This was all a giant mess - wet behind the ear children playing at adult games with real world consequences.
“It’s a fine mess, innit? A fine bloody fucking mess!”
Laughter follows, deep and echoing. What is it that people say - if you can’t find joy in the small things? Rabastan claps his brother on the shoulder in emphasis.
"Perhaps.”
His answer is simple and easy on the lips. It was a notion he had considered, naturally. One scenario after another had painted its way through the calculative patterns of his mind since the night of the incident. While there was no worry haunting his thoughts - besides the pestering issue of the gossiping vine and its lies - and his certainty unfalters, there were always unwelcome surprises. And that, well, was a nagging inconvenience.
"I do not trust the girl...but loyalty does weight more than one would think, brother. People do unthinkable things when they believe in something. Loyal creatures will forever remain loyal, it’s hard to shake off that type of upbringing.”
It was a clear as water to both of them; yet there was an added intangible remark to his words. A sharp smile fell on his lips then, swallowing the burning liquid as memories of the night flashed into his mind. Their plans carried out to near perfection, and the misfortune of a mistake landed equally on all of them - except if things became any muddier than what they had. Then, it was every man for themselves.
“It was always meant to be a bloody mess, Rabastan. Long before we knew it would happen. There is no other end to this tale but a bloody, gory, mess.”
Though the wizard referred to the recent events in the castle, those were minuscule in comparison to what awaited for them out of the protective grounds of Hogwarts. Bloodthirsty as he was, the ardent itch to leave the castle increased with every passing our for the elder Lestrange boy - leave behind the masks of aristocracy and hypocrisy to do what he was meant to do all along.
Once they were called Knights by their own, with poisoned swords and dark armors with the sole mission of restoring what was rightfully theirs. By social status and by natural selection - the powerful shall rise and the weak shall yield. Now - now there were cowards among them, scared to admit the truth to their species, to take the only path that’d lead them to their true destiny.
Death Eaters they whisper in hurried low voices, shunning them as if they did not wish to do the same. Death, as if that’s not what they all want - death to the old, birth to the new.
“But she will wake, and she will say nothing.” He continued, swinging the bottle in his hand before rising it to his lips, the hard burning liquor burning down his throat as he asserts - once again - that they are alone. “Not only due to the possibility of retribution - whatever that might be - but because if she does choose to speak the truth, well...the Black family will be ultimately destroyed. Blood attacking blood has no absolution.”
Deep black eyes linger for a moment on his brother’s gaze, before dragging towards the shadowed forest and Black Lake ahead, the reflection of the moon barely visible on its murky surface.
“By mistake, but that does not take away from the fact that it happened. Betrayed by her own sister, that can’t settle well in her. As for my loving fiance, her mind - her insanity - will betray her too. Then, it’s a simple domino effect. In a matter of time, brother, we won’t have to deal with any of them.”
fraternity matters | RABASTAN & RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE
Must be fucking nice to breath in peace.
The boy flicked a cigarette off the bridge, uncaring where it dropped below. He was exhausted and if one more person asked him another god damned question, he was going to show them what a true act of violence really was. He wasn’t daft – he could hear their whispers and see them all huddled in their groups pointing at him like some sort of sideshow attraction. Let’s all have a gander at Rabastan Lestrange, yeah? Let’s all sneak a peek at the resident baddie. Bloody tossers!
Then again, he wasn’t helping matters along so much was he? Mum’s the word on his lips after hours upon hours of interrogation. They were so certain – the entire bloody lot of them – so damn sure that he was the guilty party. He was the nice dripping rare steak that everyone wanted to sink their teeth into. All of them had their piece and he just sat twiddling his fucking thumbs.
What point was there in saying anything? They had their minds made up and he wasn’t about to go spreading his personal issues to the ears pressed against the glass. Fuck ‘em all. The professors didn’t have shit to go on and the prefects were incompetent to begin with. Besides, he wasn’t guilty.
They’d never find anything saying he was.
Except Rab had a fairly decent idea of who was guilty and that knowledge only added to his silence. What point was there in shining the spotlight on someone else – on betraying blood – when he already knew he was going to get off the hook for this? No, he would sit back and watch it all play till the very end. When the entire castle already thought you a soulless monster, what harm was there in a little more dirt to muddy up the rumors?
“Better for me, innit? I might actually get some sodding peace for once – no more monkeys hanging off my back.” It was an empty laugh that he offered his brother, lips set in a thin line as he watched the sky in the distance. “Fuck ‘em.”
Still, it’s a grin that he manages for Rodolphus once they’re side by side. ( As they should be; as brothers always are. ) Rab is glad for the distraction of liquor and the company. When he wasn’t being hounded by the faculty and staff, he was too busy running his arse off to keep from actually committing murder. The scotch has the strength and fire he needs to dull the dower thoughts threatening to suffocate him.
“Wretched events,” he agrees as his dark gaze flit over their surroundings in a search for other signs of life. The other students were keeping their distance; afraid to come near him now that he might be a murderer.
The joke of it was that the current events had nothing to do with what happened on Halloween.
“Seems to me you’ve already lost that battle, brother. Not careful. Not careful at all. I’ll just have to relish the limelight while I can, yeah? I always did like the sound of my name on other people’s lips. I think I’d like to hold on to the glory for a little while.”
His words are punctuated by another drink from the bottle. They understand one another.
Rodolphus stands silent, leaning over the edge of the bridge as he captures the words of his little brother.
Had it been anyone else - anyone at all, at the wrong place at the wrong time, he would not have given a bloody damn what happened. He’d relish on it even, one mistake covered by the loud noise of distraction and suspicion. How fucking convenient, of fortune to work out like that. ...Had he say him something; had he given Rabastan a word caution, or even an implied suggestion, this bloody nuance could have been avoided. Rod should have known, out of everyone in the castle, Rabastan would be the one out in the darkest hours of the night.
Narcissa though; now that had been the surprise of the day.
“Not careful at all.” The wizard repeats in agreement, grabbing the bottle from his hands to swallow a big gulp of the hard, scorching liquor. “Even the very best are faced with errors in their strategy, brother. That’s how one learns, no?”
He had always known not to trust them; not completely. Zealous and c r u e l t y run in their blood. They are blinded with the thirst of action, the craving of dirtying their hands and catalyzing chaos into the souls they hated. It is not regret that he feels; not for the act in and of itself. Havoc was created, and now many knew there were true monsters hidden in the dark, ready to act for the cause that united them against all. But legends say magic has a price, and many would claim this was theirs.
A sister and fiance in deep slumber, and his brother blamed and shamed for a guilt that was not his to own.
“Ah but one battle is nothing in comparison to war, little brother. Do enjoy the scandal and glory of it, because I promise you, it won’t go beyond that. I will not let it go beyond that.”
What Bella or Lucius would or could do in regards to the sleeping beauty suffering from her own blood’s curse, if anything at all, he did not know. He had not seen them since that night. But he - he’d make sure his brother did not suffer the same fate. Rabastan would not give him away, he was certain of that. Blood did not betrayed blood. They stood, together and strong against everything and everyone.
And Rodolphus planned to send each and every Death Eater to the frigid walls of Azkaban and fires of hell, before his own brother suffered in their name.
"All will stay as it is now, however. Dumbledore will not be able to find anything, incompetent fool that he is, he’ll have a hell of a time even finding a place to start. The professors and prefects even more so. Nothing will change until she decides. If she wakes up, and tells her father, or her sister. Then, well - that might become an actual headache.”
There is a pause, as black eyes linger towards his brother - certainty glimmering in the darkness of his gaze.
“But she won’t. And soon, this will all be over.”
For all the tension between his family and the Blacks, he knew the younger sister actually abides by their ancient rules; family and blood, always together. Their sinister torture is to be paid with an eternity of misery. Thus, Narcissa would die before accusing her own older sister of her attack, and the attack of three other students.
fraternity matters | RABASTAN & RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE
It was a tranquil gait that carried the boy down the muddy mounts of the grounds - too carefree and yet too graceful. Hand in his trouser’s pocket with a dark green tinted bottle on the other. If you looked closer, you might see the wheels turning in his head; penetrating charcoal gaze straight ahead with his mind everywhere else. It was a simple evening, for all intents and purposes. One like any others; a simple moonless night with slight tension floating among their crowds, too curious to know but too scared to ask more than they ought to.
The small, mindless students that wandered out in the open skies still parted way for him to pass; hushed chattering and slanted eyes staring to the back of his head. Oh, but it was not he the topic of conversation feeding their mouths - of this Rodolphus was highly aware. Halting if only for a moment, he barely glanced over his black clad shoulders; a growl hiding in clenched teeth loud enough to have them all scatter off like the wet rats they all were.
It was fucking, bloody idiocy, all of it. And that was exactly what it would remain.
Rod had not expect it, naturally, but it could lead nowhere but where it started. Another chapter of chattering and blabbering before the next grand meal comes to their empty, pathetic lives. It was not but the mere start of the day when he’d caught on to the vine sliding through the halls that cloudy morning. L E S T R A N G E is the name in everyone’s mouth, and though a cause that called for mockery of the students and teachers at Hogwarts for their stupidity and incompetence, it put him in quite a peculiar mood.
To wake up to the talks that his little brother tortured four students, including one of their own, was not ideal with him. In fact, he’d expected anything but - chaos, strife, paranoia, but never this. He’d made that clear already, but minutes ago. Warned those involved, his little pack of apprentices, that should it go beyond this - talks and chatter and tiring gossiping - there’d be a price to pay with b l o o d, and it wouldn't be his, or his family’s.
Rabastan would not pay for their deeds - for his doing . He had enough on his own without adding punishment on behalf of his older brother; and their family was not in the habit of making others pay the price of their antics. They uphold their own actions and lived up to them with true delight. When it came to golden ties of loyalty and fraternity, it was certainly not to them first.
But a Lestrange always finished what they started - despite the error of others.
“So lonely, brother. It might seem as if half the castle is scared of being too close to you.”
It is a grin that greets the younger wizard, with the words booming across the old, wooden bridge. He thrusts the bottle of scotch to his brother once he reaches his side, scanning quickly their surroundings, just for measure. There was no need for more collateral damage.
“Unfortunate, truly unfortunate all that happened. But if I’m not careful, you might become the bigger name around here, and then, just what would I do?”
It was hard to repress the slight bounce in the blonde’s step as she exited the otherwise empty classroom. Nothing had been perfect lately; the tensions rising in the school had become more apparent as the month dragged on. For once, though, Vegas was beginning to believe she had at least a sliver of control over the situation - she suspected the generosity of Professor Quigley and Remus had something to do with it.
However anxious the Ravenclaw had been over the holidays, an intense amount of p a t i e n c e had overcome her.
Turning the corner, the chaser’s mind was focused upon the day’s progress. A corporeal patronus was in the making, her defensive charms ingrained deep within her mind and well within the practice stage. A soft, proud smile hung upon her lips as a sudden gust of wind brushed her notes from her hands.
“Oh,” she uttered, reaching immediately for the parchment in a sprawling, somewhat graceless gesture. It wasn’t until an unfamiliar hand had entered her line of sight that she had even noticed the presence of another in the hallway. Drawing back as if she had been burned, the blonde’s eyes widened in shock and a slender hand grasped at a heavily beating chest. A sharp noise ripped from her throat.
“Merlin, you startled me! Yes, I…suppose it is, isn’t it?”
"My apologies, miss Adelaide - I did not mean to scare you.”
The Slytherin continued his task, offering the tiny blonde a thin reassuring smile as he finished compiling the dropped parchments from the floor. It was all he could do to not laugh at the wide eyed gaze starring back at him; pretty little thing. Oh, because he knew what she was doing inside those walls - Lucius had kindly giving him all the details he deemed important. Quiet young bird, wanting to learn a thing or two about defense. Hopefully she learnt well; it’d be make it all the more interesting.
“It is a bit difficult to avoid - these walls can seem truly soulless at this time of the night, though it is not. The castle has so many shadows roaming its hollowed halls, spirits that are not as lukewarm nor as amiable as any you’ve seen. Of course, you don’t get to see them, until they want you to.”
Rodolphus smiled openly at her; a charming, quiet, unassuming curve of lips, passing back the notes to the blonde.
"Not that you have to worry about them - they usually allow true students in peace. Do tell me, Miss Adelaide, are the extra classes of any help to you? Call me curious if you will, but I wonder at how much extra hours do help - perhaps you need a change of pace instead?”
Faint, easy steps echoed at the end of the shadowed corridor, a boy waiting almost nonchalant against the stone wall on the corner of the deviation. A coin played in between his fingers, sliding in and out and occasionally flying into the air, to later fall easily in his palm. You would not see him if you were not looking for him - hidden even from the meek light of the stars high in the sky.
That’s how it’d been for the past few days; p a t i e n c e was his virtue and anticipation his delight.
Just as it’d happen over and over again, the girl turned around the corner, and failed to see him standing alone. Poor unassuming little thing. The dark wooded wand slid out of his pocket, a simple wisp of chilly air throwing the parchment in her grasp.
“Need a bit of help, darling?” Rod approached the Ravenclaw girl, a quiet smile on his lips and a hand in his pocket - leaning down to help gather her things before she spoke. He was a gentleman, after all. "It’s a windy night, isn’t it?”
GIFSET MEME; iwasfeelinepic asked: most attractive + favourite character + the originals.
"I have patrol in a few hours, and I’d rather not fall asleep beforehand. I was trying to get to the library, but now I’m curious if you’re the monster or I am.”
"Ah, I never said it'd be me. But curiosity is a dangerous thing for such a goodhearted mind, Miss Evans. Tell me, how do you consider yourself a monster?"
