where: lestrange manor who: @bellatrix-lestrxnge
The door wasn’t locked. Evan never knocked here. The manor’s air was hot with spell residue and burnt hair, and he could smell blood before he saw her. His wonderful cousin stood by the hearth, hair wild, mouth slick with victory. A broken wand lay on the table beside her like a trophy. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, admiring the destruction like one might a fine painting.
“You always throw the best parties,” he said, voice warm with mischief. He walked in slowly, plucking a glass from a decanter and filling it without asking. “How many this time? And did they scream for their mothers, or their gods?”
He offered her the glass, stepping close. “Next time, leave one for me. I miss the way we used to dance.” A pause, something darker curling beneath his smile. “It’s been too long since we tore something down together.”
