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Ooc/hi! I'm so excited that you decided to apply/join RR as Umbridge. I've been a bit hit and miss due to work, but that means I am actively seeking new plots atm. I'd love to develop some headcanons with you for these two and maybe do a para, if you are so inclined. Xoxo (&welcome!) -jade
I’d love that!!!!!! It’d be awesome to see our characters interact! ^_^
☾
1. Severus never much cared for Bellatrix. She was almost always on some sort of substance, her mind always muddled by potions drugs, or who knows what else has taken hr fancy. He never understood what Osric saw in her. She was irritating, the way she acted so sporadically without reason. Her unpredictability made her a questionable asset to the cause, and her taste for violence was gratuitous, at best. Bellatrix was unbridled, letting her emotions and her thoughts run wild, a direct contrast to Severus, who was always so careful to control himself and his emotions to suit his purposes. Severus tended to avoid her as much as he could during the first war, and saw her as a necessary evil during the second.
2. It was actually Bellatrix that gave Severus the idea for practicing occlumency. Shortly after joining the Death Eaters, she made some off-hand comment about how the Dark Lord always knew what was going on in your head, that you couldn’t keep anything from him. He presumed she said it to scare him, like the Dark Lord was some fairy-tale monster, but the comment stuck with him. That night he went home and began practicing how to close his mind off to the Dark Lord, finding a bit of a natural talent.
3. There are three things that Severus admires Bellatrix for, though he would never admit it: Her devotion to the cause, her loyalty to her sister, and her detest for her blood traitor cousin.
Remus & Bellatrix || Furious Storm
DATE: August 15, 1978 LOCATION: Remus&Sirius’s cottage in the woods
@thebestblacktrix
Callous winds whistled through dense trees and rattled ancient, glass windows. Remus worried they’d bust, shattering sharp shards over wood floors, and performed a quick spell to reinforce uneven glass. The rain beat down against the old roof. Sometimes, Remus lay awake, staring at the ceiling convinced that it might cave in. They were unable to afford a nice house; but it was secluded and it was everything they (and Moony) could have asked for and it was theirs. Magical reinforcement held it together, but the Muggle dwelling was hardly built for weather extremes.
Through water trails streaking against the old, worn glass, Remus swore he witnessed a shift in the trees, an entity amongst their aching sway. With Sirius out for the night, he knew his eyes deceived him. Still, he stared intently at the spot and was nearly stunned into shock as Sirius bounded through the yard, his long locks dripping with rain water.
Remus’s heart swelled. He felt it. He knew it. There was nothing duplicitous, no other, higher motive than to come together as lovers. Nothing but adoration glowed in green eyes as he opened the door, grinning his trademark lopsided smirk, made imperfect by deep scars that had long since healed.
“Merlin, I thought you wouldn’t be home ‘til late,” Remus called over the howling wind and thunderous slapping of rain against mud and concrete. It was with a lover’s gaze that he ushered Sirius inside; a look that typically originated in the honeymoon stage of any relationship. Shit, did he have it bad. “Why’d you come home early?”
❤ ✉ ☼ £ ★
❤ - “You do understand how I old I am, don’t you, Ms. Black?”
In all reality, Abraxas probably would not have sex with anyone. Coughbecausehe’sasexualCough. So, no, he would not have sex with Bellatrix. He would politely, if a bit snobbishly, decline.
✉ - (not really a love letter, per say, but…)
My Dear Girl,
You’ve been the most splendid personality, you and your husband both, and I thank you for that kindness. You are so exceptionally skilled, though you could always be better. Just as your father grew in his skills so, too, will you. I have the utmost faith in your abilities and am quite certain you will be unflinchingly loyal to the Cause when we shall need you the most.
Yours,
Abraxas L. Malfoy
£ - If they’d gone on a date and not a Death Eater meeting, Abraxas would have paid for it in full. She is a lady after all, and he was taught that a gentleman always pays.
★ - Bellatrix has spark. She’s not afraid to do what needs being done to please their Lord, to stay in his graces. Abraxas admires that, simply because he himself values loyalty to their Cause above many things.
Here We Go Again || Sia & B
There was a quaint little coffee shop on the corner of Diagon Alley. It normally wasn’t very busy, therefore being a nice, private place to have conversations between old friends. On the outside, the place was almost covered entirely in ivy, the green leaves threading themselves up and down the sides of the building, hugging every nook and cranny they could. Inside were chairs of lattice frames, surrounding tables with similar design. The lighting was more dim, giving the atmosphere a hushed and cozy feel.
Meeting Bella at the cafe was one of Annie’s favorite things to do. Usually she was always rushing around, but with Bellatrix, she could sit back, relax, drink coffee, and enjoy a friends company. The two usually had gossip to chat for hours about when they met up, but Annie didn’t care. Bella was one of her closest friends. She thought she kept at least one of the other witches feet on the ground.. or maybe just a small toe.
Anastasia leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, and taking a small sip of the piping hot drink. Coffee was a stimulant, but ironically helped Annie to focus. To each their own drug. Caffeine just happened to be her dose of life.
Ana smiled as she saw Bellatrix approach their small table. The smile fell to a teasing smirk towards the other witch. “How has life been treating you B? And how is it teaching you?” Annie took a teasing sip of her coffee. “I’ve missed you very much, B”
@thebestblacktrix
Unf
Rita wasn’t expecting to be accosted when she left her building that night. As the rain pounded down around her, she could feel the eyes watching her, knew someone was there, but she couldn’t seem to take shake that bloody feeling…and then her body was slammed into a wall and a wand was shoved under her jaw, pointing her face up to meet the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.
For someone she had been cordial with in school, this was a rude welcome even for the journalist, and she’d been slapped and pushed and beaten quite a bit in her life. The bricks behind her dug into the small of her back and her hands were shoved to the side, at an angle that was both painful and unable to grab the wand she had tucked into her sleeve, a small holster she’d bought for a conspicuous carry around the office. Hopefully the other witch was just being…friendly.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Bellatrix?”
✞ - Our characters attend a funeral or visit a tombstone
He was eighteen. Barely a man. Warped by the those around him, his heart was long dead.
She was seven. Already using magic her peers didn’t dare to understand, she had only just started her descent to depravity.
His tears fell silently, falling down his face with speed. He didn’t bother to wipe them away.
His father had been respected in the pureblood community. A symbol for all that was right in the world, he had been the gravity in Walden’s life, holding everything together. Everything Walden had learnt, everything he knew, everything he thought was from the man.
and all it had taken was a muggle.
A muggle with a car.
A muggle without a care.
A muggle who wouldn't live to see the morning.
His father would never see him marry, never meet his grandson who would carry on his legacy. He would never drink with Walden, never joke again. He would never hear his booming laugh, hear his frighteningly clever wit. He’d never take him back to Dublin, never see him drink and dance and drink and dance a little more again.
A fuckin’ filthy muggle.
She stood beside him, her small hand clasped in his. The grave was swarmed with flowers; each of the twenty eight had paid their respect, even the blood traitors. Yet, the guests had all left. The Black family had taken his mother, whose grieving took form in spells of fainting, and wide, broken eyes. She hadn’t cried, not in public (she was too proud for that) but she had the support of the community.
They had thought it best to leave Walden alone.
Only Bella had been brave enough to stay. She ignored her mother’s warnings, ignored the tales of bruises and bodies and bones. If anything, she wanted to hear the stories. But, after setting down a small bunch of black orchids, she had settled for his hand and a moment of his silence.
He didn’t know how long they had been there. She was a small thing, her small hand enclosed entirely by his. If it hadn’t been for the tumble of curls he could see out of the corner of his eye, he wouldn’t have remembered she was there.
“You see the damage they do?”
His voice was low, hoarse from all the tears. Amongst the wind, it was difficult to hear, but he made sure she did.
“They fight so feckin’ hard for equality, so feckin’ hard and they go and do something like this. They want to ruin us. This is only the start. They’re trying to tear us down from the inside. This wasn’t an accident. This was murder.”
His grip around her wrist tightened, but she said nothing.
“We can’t let them get away with this. We can’t.”
He could see it, the bodies of the witches and wizards piling up. The ghosts had told him all about it, the witch hunts across the countries. Wizards being burn, boiled, hung drawn and quartered just for being the species that evolved, just for being the better species. He had seen their guns, their missiles, their chemical warfare. They had to win.
“We’ll get them. We have, Bells. We have to.”
▲ - My character confesses something to yours
“I miss you,”
It was a whisper, planted atop the crown of her head. For once, the pair were in a bed. Wrapped amongst layers of furs and sheets, their world was shrouded in darkness, with a layer of smoke trapping them in.
High as a kite with pupils that drowned out the icy blues of his eyes, he was stuck in some sort of sentimental limbo. Her hair, previously held in some formal up-do, had been torn apart by his hands, and he was currently playing with the ruins.
Hearing her tut, he laughed, his fingers running gleefully through the curls that splayed across his shoulders. “I’m not confessing my love for you, you fool. I’m no idiot. I just miss you.”
He never worked in a pack any more. When he was sent out hunting, it was alone. Of course, he worked efficiently that way. They job was quick, was easy. There was no mess, no fuss. He was hired for his ease, his ability to get shit done.
“You’re a wonder, you know that?”
It might have begun as a compliment, but it quickly turned into a giggle. “A wonder. Captivating. Stupendous. Wizard.” His head fell into her curls, his laughter hidden in her shoulder.
His fingers moved deftly to her collar bone, tracing their way across her chest, where they danced across her ribs.
“I’m not even talking about the sex. I mean, you’re a good fuck, but my God. On the battle field? There’s no-one else like you.”
His voice returned to a hush, the husk of it hiding his glee. His fingers, no longer fuelled by narcotics and passion, became a lot softer, brushing over her skin with a soft touch.
“I know you love the Dark Lord. I know you hang onto his every word, that you wouldn’t ever betray him, not for anyone or anything. And I’ve been thinking. What if we did some extra work? Give him a surprise? Give him something to smile about? I’m bored, Bella. You’re the only one who can help me.”
He was laughing again; laughing at the prospect of what was to come. He was sick of being someone else's hound, ready to kill at their beck and call. He wanted to make the choice. He wanted to be in charge. He wanted to be judge, jury and executioner, just for once.
“If you haven’t grown too old for them, I’ve got a few presents for you, Bells. A few addresses. We could take a trip down memory lane, relive a few days gone by.”
He shifted until he was up against her; made sure she could feel every inch of him; every inch that was y e a r n i n g for her touch once again.
“Come on Bells. What do you say? It’ll be just like old times.”
