#ecchymosisstarter

[lestrangebtrix-blog]

Bellatrix was a heavy drinker. In order to be drunk, she had to drink more than most of her friends; and in order to enjoy that silly event she had to be utterly drunk.

She looked at their faces; mostly mudbloods and blood traitors sitting together, laughing and paying attention to their families and those stupid bands playing so badly it was as if there was a knife being put on inside her ear every time a instrument were played. It was not she didn’t enjoy parties, she did, but there were a bunch of other ways to have much more fun. Parties like that, to that awful God and their awful children, were a good way to spot blood traitors, to choose the next target, to be aware of everything and, at the same time, drink more than a little so the night is more bearable. 

It was on her third glass of wine that she noticed who was standing in her sight. Shoes clapping against the floor like thunder, she approached the person like it was an old friend. 

“Not leaving, are you? Just when I thought things were starting to get exciting”, she smiled. 

[cissaxmclfoy]

July 29, 2018, 12:25pm Christmas in July OPEN

There was nothing quite like Draco to remind Narcissa of all the innocence that still existed in the world. Even in the middle of the summer, when the wizarding community of London decided to celebrate Christmas. The youngest of the Black sisters, Narcissa had always been fond of the winter, and having her son made the holidays more special. And while Florean’s decision to have the festivities seemed sudden, she wasn’t going to say no. 

It was no surprise that Draco was well behaved in public, for a four year old he always was. His eyes lit up at everything they passed, asking more than once if Christmas had come early. In a way, it had, but Narcissa couldn’t say much else. There were plenty of things that he seemed to be excited to do, and it was all she could do to make a mental list to remember what all he asked for, silently vowing to take time for it all.

But, now, they seemed to have gotten lost inside of the extraordinary maze. Of everything that was set up, it wasn’t Narcissa’s first choice in activity but she had agreed anyway. He seemed to be enjoying it, even if they were lost. “Okay love, which way do you think?” She asked her son, almost oblivious to anyone else appearing nearby.

[alclgbttm-blog]

OPEN STARTER Flourish and Blotts, Diagon Alley July 16

Physically Alice was perusing in the books of Flourish and Blotts, but her mind was on Neville and what he might be doing currently. She dropped her little boy off at her dad’s place a couple of hours ago. Her dad found some kind of muggle museum exhibition that he got Neville all worked up and excited about as well, so she assumed they were having a great time, and she could at least run a couple of errands without being slown down by the little munchkin before her shift started later in the day.

She was looking for a new cookbook that she heard about from Molly Weasley after an Order meeting and the Tales of Beedle the Bard, because somehow she managed to misplace her old copy and Neville was asking for her to read it to him.

(She might have spent several days after the weekend when the news got out that a muggleborn went missing during the festival to try and get her mind off of things. It might have not worked - she probably drove Frank insane -, and after a while, she simply gave up. Both finding the book and trying not to think about what might have happened. They were all working on trying to find the missing person at work, and it was the best as she could do at that time.)

She looked up and down on the shelves again - she could never find any book she was looking for in this book. “Any chance you know where I can find a copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard?“ she asked when she realized somebody was standing near her, hoping the other person might have caught a glimpse of what she was looking for somewhere.

[purestpeacock]

A Little Lift Conversation

Lucius Malfoy was annoyed with the world. Bad enough that the Ministry of Magic had gone and thrown a party in honor of the god who was his sire without allowing Lucius to oversee every last detail, but to have now sent some flunky around to hound him for information about that vanished Mudblood -- Tellie or Tracey or Tammy or some awful Muggle name like that, he couldn’t keep track.

“As if I would care enough to know even if I knew,” Lucius sneered, pushing past the mousy-haired little wizard trying vainly to keep up with his much longer stride. He had come to the Ministry to make a complaint about the festival, not to answer questions about some idiot Mudblood who’d gone and gotten herself lost. “You’ll recall that I wasn’t in charge of the festivities?” he added sourly. “Maybe you ought to be talking to the people who were.”

Without waiting for an answer, Lucius shoved his way through the gates of the nearest lift and stopped on the threshold, leaving the meek little ministerial flunky to hem and haw at his heels while Lucius pretend to ignore the man until the doors had shut behind him, shutting the fellow out of the elevator. It was only then that Lucius turned to realize that he wasn’t alone, nor did he have any idea what floor this lift was currently heading to.

Summoning a big, charming smile, he drawled, “Persistent little cretins, aren’t they? I swear, you give some lackluster wand-polisher a quill and a clipboard and they think they’ve got some kind of power over people.” He chuckled heartily. “It would be tragic if it weren’t so funny -- or do I have that backwards?”

[ecoserpent-blog]

summer festival ! ---------- open starter.

event planning had never troubled her. really. it was one the many useless  &  trivial skills she’d collected throughout years upon years of wife-training. after all, it’s rule number one, isn’t it ? a woman must be organized. she must be two steps ahead, especially when the masses anticipate her being three steps behind.  &  rayna is nothing if not organized -- eyeing the festivities, ensuring everything goes as planned. she is careful to avoid disaster in the eyes of both the ministry  &  her father alike, as any hiccups will undoubtedly fall on her shoulders harder than they would lucius’, because men  (  of course  )  aren’t bred for hosting. they aren’t bred for warmth. little do they know that rayna possesses the power to behave just as brutally as they doubt a woman being capable of. 

she sips at her fourth glass of red wine  &  straightens her shoulders. her mother’s voice rings incessantly in the back of her head:  sit up straight, rayna. men don’t like women with crooked spines. after all, her mother is right:  men don’t like women with crooked spines because men don’t like women with spines at all. it only took twenty-eight years for them to agree on something,  &  she’d linger on that a little longer ---- had a phantom touch at her shoulder not pulled her from her thoughts. she turns, rolling her eyes.    “ if we were anywhere else, sneaking up on me would most definitely warrant a hex. “

[peterchildofiris]

The last thing Peter expected to see today was muggles on the stage. This event was organised by the children of Dionysus, both of whom were Death Eaters. How long until these muggles were made an example of in front of their audience? How long until singing turned to screaming as they were thrown into the air upside-down so the blood rushed to their heads, faces turning blue? A crowd like this presented the perfect opportunity for an attack. Would Peter be expected to don his mask? He hadn’t brought it today, but he could improvise. The gaiety of the event was utterly lost on Peter. Muggles didn’t belong here, so why had they been invited to perform? 

It couldn’t possibly be for their music. Peter turned his back on the stage, taking a swig from his mug of beer. Coldplay were overrated. “Bring back the Weird Sisters!” he called out to no one, raising his mug to the sky. He’d been nursing this particular drink since he arrived about an hour ago. Peter never drank with Death Eaters, no matter how much he might want to after listening to the shit they had to say, and here in this carnival of fun Death Eaters were everywhere. 

He focused on the only familiar face he could see. “You. Come toss a clown with me,” he said, pointing a finger at them across the crowd. “And that...” Peter’s cheeks blazed red, and he threw his head back, cringing. “That was not supposed to come out like that.” He might not be able to escape the melody--why did A Sky Full of Stars have to be so catchy?--but he could at least escape the sight of the band and all these worshippers jumping up and down to the beat. “You in?” he shouted as the volume rose, attempting to look provocative then ruining it by laughing. 

[lestrangebtrix-blog]

open to anyone

She saw the motion of people running to the place where the scream came from. The face, laid on the ground, the red and white from the snow a contrast painters would die for, was a well-known face: Sirius Black, the boy who once was her cousin, but now was nothing more than that --- a bloodied man who deserved whatever came to his way. Looking up to the woman sobbing, she saw a second-handed copy of herself. 

She pitied them at that moment.

Pitied them for their choices were now getting back at them.

And, at the same time, she felt angry. Angry because Bellatrix, for the first time, was not the one to cause them any sort of pain. Voldemort knew how much she wanted to see Andromeda and Sirius dead. He knew how willing she was to do it with her own hands; so why didn’t he ask? Apparently he did ask someone. 

Shed looked at Regulus’ face, then Lucius’, then her husband’s and her sister-in-law’s: none of them seemed to know what exactly was happening. She did not fear, though; blood traitors get what they deserve. They always do. 

“Obviously Sirius had to get all the attention to himself, right?”, she whispered. 

[purestpeacock]

A Proper Pure-blood Upbringing

OPEN STARTER: Death Eaters

“Now don’t forget,” Lucius told the solemn-faced four-year-old standing in front of him, “once we reach the park, we have to keep our masks on. All right?”

Draco nodded obediently. “Otherwise you ruin the game!” he chirped.

Lucius smiled indulgently. “Exactly,” he told his son, pressing a kiss to the little boy’s forehead before he settled the mask -- a miniature version of the silvery, face-shrouding one that he wore when on duties for the Dark Lord -- atop Draco’s forehead and snugging the cloak tighter around his little neck. “Masks and hoods,” he reminded the boy, who nodded again, gray eyes alight with eagerness.

Lucius couldn’t have been prouder -- or more excited for the day’s activities, although he couldn’t help regretting not having asked Narcissa to come along. He thought that four was a perfectly suitable age at which to start learning the finer points of Muggle-baiting and the amusement value thereof, but he wasn't sure that his wife would agree. While Lucius was quite content with the fact that the both of them rather coddled their son (he met all such accusations with a proud grin and gratitude that his skills as a father were being complimented on) he thought sometimes Cissy took it a little farther than necessary. Draco was a little boy, yes, and he was precious beyond words, but he wasn't going to break if he toppled off a broomstick or stuck his finger in a hot cauldron.

Besides, she was the one arranging secret playdates with blood-traitors. Surely it was only fair of Lucius to be able to sneak off with their son for some quality bonding time as well, even if he didn't have any blood-traitors in his pocket that he could trot-out and amuse the child with. But Muggles were easy to find. And even better, unlike blood-traitors, there was no need for subtlety. No need for pretending to be their friends first. You could go straight for the hex and then one little memory charm later, it was like you were never even there...

He wasn’t being irresponsible, either; he knew better than to engage in sport like this alone and a wandless four-year-old, no matter how clever and precocious, was not adequate back-up. But from the sound of footsteps approaching from the end of the drive, his back-up was right on time.

Lucius turned around with a toothy smile. “Beautiful day for it, isn’t it?” he said. Anything less and he would have cancelled, of course; he couldn’t have Draco’s first Muggle-baiting ruined by something as pedestrian as bad weather. But everything seemed more cheerful than usual today, sunny skies included, even though Lucius knew it was just anticipation for the fun to come. Being a father was marvelous.