Bellatrix sighed inwardly as she took a seat at the bar, summoning the bartender over with just a flick of her fingers. The young man had seen her in there often enough now to know not only who she was, but to know what she liked to drink, and so it didn’t take long for him to have the drink in her hand.
She sipped at it, savouring the familiar burn which slowly ebbed away at her irritation. The source of that irritation, of course, was her mother. In the few hours they’d spent together today the woman had suggested not one, not two, but almost a dozen potential suitors. Many of them she dismissed almost as soon as mentioning them, citing their lack of funds or some other trait she deemed undesirable about their family. At least half of those dozen names though had been ones she believed could truly be a good match for her daughter.
Bellatrix, of course, had no intention of meeting with any of those men. She knew most of them, having either attended Hogwarts with them or met them at various society functions over the years, and not one of them had managed to pique her interest. Perhaps they could, if she was not so focused on making a name for herself before becoming someone’s wife. In spite of what society tried to tell her, she was determined to be more than just a broodmare.
As she took another sip of her drink, she noticed a figure moving beside her, preparing to sit. “This seat’s taken.”
It had been a day at the Ministry. The flurry of response to the attack at Diagon had quieted down, allowing normalcy to return in full. Except for her department. Per the direction of Crouch Sr, aurors & hit wix were ordered to make more rounds, become more visible, deter another attack. Which might work, had half the ministry not be in the pocket of the dark lord.
Violet had the unfortunate assignment of working in London. Muggle London. And the area that she and Greggory had once shared. She spent most of the morning fighting the urge to go near it. She hadn’t been back to that spot in years. But she finally worked up enough courage and set eyes on the walk up she had once called home.
The window of what had been their bedroom was replaced and all signs of fire damage nonexistent. She perched herself on a bench, in the small park across the street, and allowed herself a small moment to remember him. She can clearly see herself, walking behind Greggory, blindfolded, as he led her down the sidewalk. He had placed a hefty sum down to acquire this place, making sure that the comforts of her upbringing wouldn’t be lost in her life with a muggle born wizard.
Snapping back to reality, Violet had realized the street lights have begun to turn on, and her work day had ended about an hour an a half ago. “Fuck” she said, standing quickly and moving to the nearest place of rest she knew. A pub.
Relaxing almost as soon as her shadow darkened the familiar door, she stepped in to find that the place was quite busy. Most tables spoken for and only a lone seat at the bar without a patron. She moved gracefully across the room, her long legs making short work of closing the distance. She recognized the witch in the seat next to the empty stool, one of the black sisters, the eldest if she was not mistaken.
“This seats taken” she had said.
Right before Violet took it. “It would appear that way” Violet retorted to the younger witch, calling the barkeep over with her hand. “I’ll have a bottle of you're best, care not for what it is, as long as it’s expensive and gets the job done” she told the bartender. The effect of sitting across the street where the worst night of her life began for hours had affected her much more then she anticipated, and she had vowed that at least she could make her fathers purse hurt to make up for the hurt he had given her.