#bellatrixlestrxnge

[fcrox]

who: @bellatrix-lestrxnge when: evening where: the selwyn party

Family, there was nothing quite like it and nothing could ever be more important. That, and friendships. It was one of the reasons the blonde didn’t mind attending such events; the big and bright. While it may not have been a wedding, it was special all the same. Perhaps, in some ways, Leta found herself almost relieved at the idea of not having to attend weddings for at least a little while. It allowed for a small change of pace.

For a while she’d busied herself with her drink, allowed her eyes to roam and scan the crowds. Every now and then snippets of conversations would drift by, and people were dancing. It all seemed to follow the proceedings of a party. Nothing quite catching her eyes she finally spotted someone interesting. Bellatrix, a cousin whom she admired more than most. Quick strides carried her over and across the room. “I assume you’re having fun?” No doubt, if anyone would find a way to have fun in any given situation it was her.

[valeria-flint]

To hear that Bellatrix Lestrange was not one to sit still, was not a surprise to Val. It was clear that this witch was not one to wait and see how things developed. It causes a smile on her lips to appear. Mostly due to the image of a bored Bellatrix hanging around the house than anything else. Val had a feeling that a very bored Bellatrix, also equalled a very dangerous Bellatrix. One who just did something because she felt like it against boredom.

"You definitely don't seem a person who can sit still, I have to agree with that. I think I would be worried the moment you would go quiet." That would be very, very worrisome.

For a moment Val wondered how she could voice the next question the best way. "I admire your dedication to the Dark Lord. It does make me wonder... Has there ever been a situation in which you did not agree but did the task anyways?"

Bellatrix had worked herself to a crisp to gain her freedom. It'd hardly been handed to her on a plate, though she'd been fully determined to get what she wanted through any means necessary. She'd felt the pressure of marital expectation and had looked upon potential suitors with eyes that judged how quickly they might die, or how easily they might be bent to her will. She was a law unto herself, but she did understand pureblood imperatives and at the young age of nineteen, she'd been fresh out of Hogwarts and did not yet have the Dark Lord's attention or the desire to completely toss aside her parents' wishes. She was not Andromeda. She was expected to marry, so she did. It was simply fortuitous that Rodolphus was her match. Not that she'd ever tell him. But he knew, just as she could boast that no other witch could ever match him.

"Of course I'm right." When wasn't she? Sliding her glass onto the table, she continued her pincer-like study. Valeria Flint was a curious witch. Obtaining the Minister's house had been a strong advantage for the war. She looked forward to making good use of it, knowing that all kinds of influential people could - and would - move between its walls like flies stuck to honey. And what a sweet meal she'd make of them.

At the question, she laughed brightly then flicked a switch and sighed with affected weariness.

"Oh, you know. It never ends, really. I'm quite exhausted." Lies. She was always exhilarated, her adrenaline always bubbling on a hyper-acute scale, her emotions utterly rampant, ever searching for the next ravenous adventure. Shrugging a narrow shoulder, she glanced through heavy lashes. Her eyes were sharp, like slyly filed razors. "I'd normally be working on something or other. If not for the Dark Lord, then for myself. Or I might assist Rodolphus with whatever he requires, if he wishes. I'm not suited to sitting around with nothing to do, Valeria. It makes me quite.... jittery."

[notdelicatc]

Hestia couldn’t say what had come over her when she tried to calm the witch, she knew not a soul could tame. Bellatrix Lestrange had a reputation, one that every auror – without a doubt – must have been aware. The witch in question was no exception to the rule. They both knew what a dangerous game they were playing, how heavy a burden lay between them. The disappearance of Regulus Black was something both witches seemed to desire knowledge of, but Hestia wasn’t fool enough to believe any of this would end in her favor. Unharmed, no, but perhaps holding out long enough to satisfy the bottomless hunger of the other. She was not the same fool she’d been the last time she was faced with a beast like this.

Spells were flying, the area around her littered with craters and fire and whatever else Bellatrix had thrown around. It a mess, chaos not unlike what she’d trained for and yet, the one who had inflicted it was someone far mor unhinged than anything could have prepared her for. Hestia fought back, shields flying up and occasional spells aimed to disarm whatever mess Lestrange had created. “Stop this.” Hestia flung a string of hexes back at her. “You are attacking an auror. Even you must know that can’t fly.” It was taking everything in her to keep up those shields, to deflect what she could. It no longer felt as though they were fighting over Regulus and his disappearance. No, there was a fire within the other’s eyes. If Hestia hadn’t been as determined to put an end to this fight, perhaps she’d have found herself scared of the other. Instead, there was only her own burning determination and that ever-lasting Hufflepuff stubbornness.

More things were thrown, raw magic all around them. If Bellatrix wanted to delve into the fire she would squish it. In turn the witch resorted to casting ice crystals, exploding all around the other. Fire meets ice, cold meets warmth. They were complete and total opposites. Yet she refused to underestimate her. No, whatever auror training this had covered, there was no saying what the other would do. “You’re crazy.” Oh, she was, no doubt. Hestia fired another jinx, a blasting curse to mix in with the rest, aimed at the ground so very close to Bellatrix’s feet.

This felt personal. It felt raw and angry, hungry and desperate for something other than hope. There was a desperation to see the other defeated that clung to the air like thick fog. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Reeling triumphant at the admission, her lips drew into a thin line, curved up by a satisfaction that would at least go some way to making this ordeal worthwhile. Bellatrix teetered a tightrope, carousing the divide between vindicated exaltation and blind rage. Her eyes were sharp as nails, digging into the other witch as though to fix her to the spot through mere carnal force of presence. Watching her wand appear, she couldn't help but draw an inhalation, oxygen drowning her lungs and diluting the gentle laugh that avidly traced her tongue. She was a gluttonous witch. Violence was her biggest temptation, her most precious skill. At this point, she would hurt Hestia Jones simply because she wanted to. Her purpose fell to secondary importance, the prospect of a worthy duel and the sound of the other witch's agony far more indecently alluring. Hestia's cool attitude was really starting to annoy her, too. Her generosity, on the other hand, simply made her laugh. The sound flew around them, travelling on the wind that gusted her dress around her ankles and her hair around her face like a flail.

"I'm not going anywhere, my dear." Soft and silken, words a caress. She raised her wand, daring the Auror to begin what would no doubt become a delicious atrocity. "Not until I'm satisfied that you are as stupid as you claim to be." Hestia could mock the Order's involvement as much as she desired. They both knew why Bellatrix would assume they'd taken him. They both knew where he could be hidden, in some safehouse tucked away out of sight. Ignorance didn't suit Hestia Jones. She was a clever witch, and she would be an equal match - perhaps.

Time to find out.

Spells began to soar, the field becoming a devastating scene that did not match the colourful kaleidoscope of rapidly exhausting spellwork. Bellatrix was relentless. She had no mercy, darting this way and that, using apparition to confuse and distract, her spells designed only for attack and never for defence. She didn't need to protect herself, her arrogance so high that she couldn't be bothered to even consider a different method than pure assault. As she moved, hurling magic towards the other witch, she laid traps in-between, adding dangers to their surroundings to make it more difficult for Hestia to move freely. A fire to her left, a gashing hole in the ground to her right, levitating spikes somewhere in the distance ready to rocket should she come within their bounds. All the while, her laugh rang bright and heady, cutting through even the sound of her own pulse rampaging between her ears. This was what she lived for; the thrill of the chase.

[fcrox]

A thick fog, nothing else could have described what was going on and until the other witch had lifted the spell, no clarity was given. And then only shock. Beatrice had not been prepared to snap out of a daze, having moved about on autopilot only to come face to face with someone like Bellatrix Lestrange. The Lestranges in general were on her list of those the brunette wished to avoid. Nothing good could come out of it, of that, she was sure.

Instead of eating as told all she could muster was the strength to hold the spoon; a mix of retaliating stubbornness and shock that seemed to have stripped most of the things she would see herself do from the list of things Beatrice Abbot was capable of. And then those words rung through to her, causing her to snap her head up at the witch. Only then did she notice how hard she’d been staring at the soup in front of her as though she could simply wish it all away if she only tried hard enough. Some may have called her foolish but truthfully it was a simple and pure desperation.

“I’m not with the Order.” It wasn’t a lie. No, there had only been one conversation with Alice about her wish to join. Despite that, thus far the witch hadn’t heard back from the other. Perhaps she would have to ask again. Or there was simply more to be sorted. “I’ve never been with the Order.” Her eyes moved, scanning the other. Would Bellatrix believe the truth when it was laid out right in front of her? At the end of the day Bea had no plans to voice whatever she may have known about the Order. It was easier, though, in times when lying wasn’t necessary simply because the truth itself made it easier.

Finally, as though out of sheer stubbornness did she end up allowing herself a spoon full of soup only to realize that the whole situation had ruined the taste entirely. What was the point anyway. “What do you want, exactly?” The past few minutes may have been foggy, like a layer that had come to rest on her like cotton, but she did remember the words. There’d been mentions of Edgar, someone knew was unlike to come visit.

Through it all her fiery Gryffindor demeanour came through, shining almost too bright for her own good. “I am not with the Order nor am I aware who is with the Order. If information is what you seek, I can’t help you.” Nor would she. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

It seemed Bellatrix's spell was too strong. How thrilling. Despite her gestures for Beatrice to sit down and join her, she still busied herself with every other thing for her non-existent dinner party. Watching the other witch with a foul smirk, she leaned back in her seat, dragging her palm against the table cloth in a slow movement. Snagging a few threads with her wedding ring, she cared nothing for it and simply considered what to do with Beatrice next. Her plan was already well-formed, designed specifically to suit her urges and the functional requirements of this evening. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a little reckless spontaneity while moving between steps.

"Are you alright?" Falsely cloying, she placed her words heavily and disarmed Beatrice while she was at it. She caught the wand and held it up, studying the gentle magic that pulsed from wood to fingers, while Beatrice fussed over the cake. "It's not like you to be so forgetful. Tea would be lovely. Milk and three sugars, please!"

Sliding the wand into her dress, she sat back and waited patiently - though not that patiently. She did want to move things on, after all. So once Beatrice reappeared, tea in hand and cake placed down, she didn't delay any longer. Forcing Beatrice into a chair with another spell, she then locked her into place, arms flat atop the table as though pinned by heavy chains, her body unable to move from the seat. For a moment, she revelled in the surprise piercing Beatrice's expression even through the Confundus. But it was only a precursor to what would come next; a veiled realisation that would soon be unleashed with horrific fervour. She removed the Confundus, eyes flickering over her plaything's with the look of a vixen in sight of the fattest rabbit she had ever seen.

"Welcome back, Abbott." She smiled, pure wickedness sparking her features like destructive wildfire. It was an expression that betrayed pure joy. She delighted in causing alarm, her pleasure an unholy devastation. "Thank you for the soup." Gesturing, she released one of Beatrice's wrists, having no fear of the freedom - she could reach nothing but a spoon and her bowl. "Eat up. Wouldn't want it to go cold. I did have you set a place for Edgar, but I'm afraid he won't be having soup. I might let him have some cake, though. If he's a very good boy." And with that, she sat back and took a refreshing gulp of her tea, then an indulgent bite of her cake.

"How long have you been in the Order? Answer sensibly. Let's not make this unpleasant." Or more unpleasant. Bellatrix had no intention of leaving without a little indulgence. She deserved it. No one worked harder for the cause than her.

[valeria-flint]

Val had a feeling that this night was more of a night off than that she was actually there to wish her a happy birthday. Which she could understand. A woman like Bellatrix seemed to do what she liked and what she wanted. No parents or husband that would dare to meddle with it.

The other woman also brought it so easy. You don't have to marry. If it had been so easy, then she would not have been in this situation. But the 'excuse' that she was serving the Dark Lord and could not serve anyone else at the same time, was one that she would keep in mind for sure. Despite the fact that it was only partly true; she still wasn't fully serving him. But that were words that she wasn't going to speak in front of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I will definitely keep that in mind the next time I speak to my father. Because you are right about that." She could count the times she had been face to face with the Dark Lord on one hand at the moment, but after the task she had done with Rabastan the other day, she knew that more were probably to come.

"What is it that you normally do on a night like this?"

If Bellatrix had known the anxious admiration meandering through Val's pretty little head, she'd have smiled all the wider. Engaging such emotions was her life's goal, not especially with deliberate intent, but through mere automated ravenous longing. A good leader was loved as well as feared. There was a fine line between pain and pleasure, after all. She knew it well enough, the tremoring lust that pulled her hither and thither through her deepest joys. She adored the Dark Lord with every ounce of her being. But she feared him too, and she cherished that wondrous terror.

"I was bored," she explained, after listening to Val's quasi-diatribe. Crossing her legs and swinging her ankle, she laughed and held her glass carelessly, the bubbling liquid threatening to spill against her fingertips. "So here I am, wishing you a happy birthday and giving myself a night off." She hadn't bothered to tell Rodolphus she'd be out. She knew he wouldn't care, but part of her still dearly hoped he'd be going out of his mind with worry. The insufferable wizard. "You don't need to marry." The words were forceful, scaling her tongue like a viper's salacious caress. She fixed her eyes on the other witch, considering her seriously for a moment. All mirth had yielded, her features morphing into what would have been a dangerously focussed expression, were it not for the fact that they were sitting here discussing something as trivial as husbands. "Who's going to force you? Not the Dark Lord. And since you are very much his, your parents wouldn't stand a chance at defying him. Tell them you serve the Dark Lord and no one else." She raised her glass flamboyantly. "And cheers to that."

[valeria-flint]

Bellatrix Lestrange. A woman who had her respect, a lot of her respect but at the same time... the woman scared the shit out of her. She was a force to be reckoned with and Val definitely would prefer to stay on her good side, for sure. But at the same time... the woman definitely wished she was a lot more like Bellatrix. Like the trait of seeming to not care one bit about what people seemed to think about her.

"The party is not the problem, it's actually good. But my parents are indeed a bit too meddlesome. This party to my mum is just a way to show off her organising skills and throw a good party. And my father just probably sees it as a waste of time since well... it also shows I'm not married as well." So there was that.

"But I'm honoured that you decided to come to this excuse of a party despite my parents being annoying. I have to admit, I did not expect you to turn up here."

Surprised by the invitation, Bellatrix had toyed with refusing. She had better things to do with her time. Tasks to complete, people to torment. The devil made work for idle hands, but since Bellatrix's were persistently tied with unsanctimonious intent, she thought why the hell not and decided to give herself a night off. So here she was, indulging the Flint matriarch and getting a good, judgemental look at their family home while she was there. It struck her that Valeria was an admirably self-sufficient witch. She didn't need her father's meddling or her mother's pandering. Betting that Val wouldn't last the whole hog with the entire gathering, Bellatrix watched her like a vixen waiting for a rabbit to flee the burrow. Then she pursued, but not before helping herself to a generous glass of champagne and congratulating herself on her excellent foresight.

Lolling into a chair beside the other witch, she glanced over with scathing mirth. "The only place your mother could send me is to an early grave. But-" Arching a finely crafted eyebrow, she shrugged a shoulder. "I've been to worse parties. What's the matter? Parents doing your head in?"

[fcrox]

If anyone knew how to turn a party into the party of the season for things other than impeccable dress or the festivities themselves, it was Bellatrix. Never would she have denied her cousin that right and the confirmation of just how much power she held with a skill so seemingly simple. It was the right kind of amusement and the very same time the highlight, if not for the blessings and joy she wished to her friends. “I have no doubt that whatever you’ll be doing next will be more up your alley.” Leta finally whirled around, no longer focused on the desperation unfolding nearby when the wizard in question attempted to gesture further, in no time turning his already awful looking hair replacement into something otherworldly all together, flapping about.

And there it was, the moment that was bound to pique her attention. “Oh?” Leta Rosier was happy to wish her cousin well, yet the mention of Evan’s own lack of knowledge regarding his fiancée had her worried. They had seemed incredibly happy last she’d seen them together. Then again, time had passed much faster than the blonde could keep track of. Only a moment ago she could have sworn it was mid November and suddenly they were celebrating the end of one and beginning of another year. Time was moving ever so fast. “Perhaps it would be better I check in on him. I do not wish to move my plans, but family is family.” At the very least Leta was going to send him an owl.

Another twist. Oh, Bellatrix was on fire. Much like the hair in front of her. “Merlin. It did look rather awful, did it not?” Her face twisted into something that seemed to be masking amusement behind a polite exterior. Those that knew her would see the enjoyment that pushed aside for a moment the worry regarding her twin. “Perhaps a replacement will do a better job.” There was hope.

Leta’s eyes moved to meet those of her cousin. “Yes, and no. I do not require an escort when the escort in question has business to take care of. I trust him.” She did, truly. And there were things, a cause she was not going to ever put herself above. “I believe, if all goes well, the plan is to meet up shortly before midnight. Thus, there is no need to stay here. I want to celebrate quietly.” A soft smile. It was in moments like these that her softness bled through despite the harshness she was very well capable of. “Speaking of, if you’re heading out, I shall do the same. There is truly no need to observe this flambé of a wizard.” Leta reached out toward the next tray floating by to place her glass onto it. “I’ll see you around! You must come over whenever there is time.” - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Following Leta's eyes to the poor offending man, Bellatrix chuckled gutturally and knocked back a hefty portion of her sparkling champagne. The younger witch was as alluring as ever, her demure yet scathing reaction providing an entertainment that Bellatrix would have wished to exacerbate, were she anyone else. Pushing a sweet little thing into cruel debauchery would be just her style, but never with one as dear as Leta. Her glittering gaze roamed back to the other witch, attention affixed to her question though her mind still ravaged over old wizard Parkinson and what she would like to do to him. Nothing too terrible, of course. They were in polite society, after all. But Leta had put an idea into her head and it was only a matter of time before she acted upon it.

"I will be leaving shortly," she confirmed, bluntly honest. Placing a hand flat against a marble pillar, she leant there indecorously for a moment as though testing the column's fortitude despite the utter pointlessness of the action. Then she released it and arched an eyebrow towards the ornately decorated ceiling. "Hm." The single noise, while level and quiet, conveyed more savage judgement than any words could have imparted. "I've not seen her, either. Neither has Evan."

It was the frustration with that knowledge that caused her to act, at last. Turning slightly on her heels, her expression expanded into devilish glory, sly excitement piquing her lips into a smile bright enough to rival the light bouncing from the many fine chandeliers swinging overhead. Ears thudding with anticipation, she flicked her wand and attempted to levitate that hideous toupée from Mister Parkinson's big balding head. The effort caused quite the ruckus. He launched forward, head first into a lantern which broke and set his very real hair alight. It was all Bellatrix could do to refrain from laughing aloud, tucking her wand away and turning back to Leta with exhilarated hilarity. "I was wrong. It was real." And now it was barbecued along with half the skin on his skull.

She reached for a canapé, ignoring the raised voices behind her. "What's all this about not staying to midnight? Don't you have an escort? I thought Dolohov was keen." She may as well get to the point. It had been a while since her little chat with Antonin and she wondered whether he'd been treating her cousin well. He probably had. She doubted he'd cross any lines too much.

[fcrox]

The witch found herself almost feeling bad for the other, if not for the fact that she had taken her and dragged her to the middle of nowhere to make demands. And this time Hestia didn’t feel a need to pretend. “I have never denied being with the Order.” There it was, an admittance Hestia had not seen herself make that day, least of all to Bellatrix Lestrange. “But the Order doesn’t have your cousin. Where do you think we’d be hiding him, in a closet? A broom cupboard?” Her eyebrows shot up in frustration, daring as ever a witch had been.

Her wand slipped into her hand from where it had laid tucked away, hidden from plain sight as she let those words hit her. The accusation within them wasn’t lost. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t have the slightest clue.” And if she did, the former Hufflepuff certainly wouldn’t have shared that information with the wild creature the Lestrange had turned into. “Why do you think the Order has him, hm?” Hestia Jones had never been one to lie, never would bother. In that regard she was true to what her house stood for, despite all the growing.

A frustrated sigh escaped her, tired of the constant clashing of wills. This entire war had started that way. “I’m going to let you walk away now. Go, before I’ll make it auror business.” Considering she had taken an auror within seconds of them exiting the ministry, the witch had no doubts about what she could pull. “If I find out where your cousin is then the auror department will make use of that information to solve the case, whatever it takes.” That was a more than generous offer given the circumstance Bellatrix had forced upon her. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

'Brazenly daring' was Bellatrix Lestrange to the finest detail. She had no interest in living in the shadows, no shame in promoting her tendencies and her allegiances. Not to the point of being stupidly reckless. But to the extent that her reputation preceded her, with no solid proof of her crimes. She was impetuous but she was not an idiot.

As Hestia stood there, giving Bellatrix nothing, she tightened her grip on her wand, striding forward a few more paces as the air around her crackled with the weight of her fury.

"Don't piss me around." Her voice had dropped, a mere whisper now tossed through the air like a quietly slashing knife. It spoke more loudly than any yell. Her lips felt parched, her throat growing dry as a familiar itching found its way beneath her skin. Her fingers twitched, a few sparks involuntarily emitting from her weapon. "You are with the Order. And the Order has taken him." She didn't know Hestia's allegiance for certain. But it made no difference and she would bet her life on it being true.

There was silence. Then all quiet rage abandoned, she drew a breath and screeched,

"Where is he, Hestia Jones?"

[fcrox]

It was as though she was walking through thick fog, on clouds so heavy that her feet would sink into the soft yet cold material without ever falling through. As though each thought lay behind a layer of something dense; she could see, but not reach through to make sense of things. Beatrice found herself nodding along with the other witch, agreeing to things she could hardly understand simply because her mind seemed to refuse to allow her to do so. The former lion was a mess, all by the hands of magic the other had laid upon her.

Every motion was as though on autopilot, as though done by hands other than her own. But she could see them. Surely these actions were her own. Beatrice could only follow along, sorting the food and setting things out without so much as a second thought given. When the mention came to Edgar, that was the first time she paused even if only in confusion. Edgar, that name was important. So perhaps Bellatrix had a point when mentioning the lack of place setting for the person that she could only recall as important. “Of course. I’m sorry. Must have slipped my mind.” How could Edgar slip her mind so easily?

The shrug in question was internal, busy hands rushing to adjust yet another place setting before the witch returned to the stove to check on things. “I do hope you like it. I’ve put effort into this.” Forgotten was the fact that the dishes in question had only been cooked to try out new recipes and to keep herself busy; to distract from the reality linked to the name the other witch had only just brought up. Bea found herself wondering why it all felt so odd. Why was she this forgetful? Surely there was a reason.

And then she remembered the cake, moving to retrieve it from the storage cupboard where it had been boxed up neatly. While she busied herself with preparing the cake she couldn’t help but wonder if tea was needed. “Would you like some tea with the cake?” The brunette finally turned around to look at the other. “Do you think Edgar does?” Beatrice didn’t want to forget the other yet again. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

The charm worked like a dream - figuratively and literally. Vaguely, Bellatrix wondered how much true consciousness drifted through Abbott's empty head. She had felt the charm herself - there was no better way to learn a spell than to experience it fully. Her life was full of experience, indulging her senses until they spilled beyond capacity, hyper-acute and trembling with implosive ardour. She had felt every spell in her armoury, except for Avada Kedavra. Every one of them had been cast upon her by a mentor, the most precious of all, by the Dark Lord himself. The suffering he could cause was exquisite. The relief that came afterwards, divine.

She followed, getting a good look at the surroundings and finding them repugnant. How people could live in such tiny quarters, she had no idea. They were like mice in holes, scurrying around with so little purpose to their fault-ridden lives. Her eyes roamed photos, noting the occupants. They hovered shrewdly over objects that looked out of place, their important clearly of some value to Beatrice. It didn't matter what value precisely, merely that she had chosen to display them.

"Mm! It smells delicious, darling, and I never say 'no' to cake." Trailing a finger over the back of a chair, she examined it for dirt then called out. "I simply couldn't refuse your invitation! I would love to join you. But, my dear-" Pulling out the chair, she sat down as though she owned the place, gesturing to the two spaces laid so far. "We're short one place setting. You haven't forgotten about Edgar, have you? He should be with us shortly." One could only hope not too soon. She'd like some alone time with her 'old friend', first. Extending a hand, she leaned forward, patting the table and indicating for Beatrice to sit.

[fcrox]

Never once in her life had Leta found Bellatrix to be disappointing. Her wit as sharp as ever, her words following closely behind the witch found herself chuckling at the commentary, a hand moving to cover her mouth with her hand. “Oh, that would certainly liven things up. Not for the toupée, of course.” The blonde scanned the crowd until she found the wizard in question. His toupée did look awful, truly. “Are we sure it is a toupée, though? I’d hate to find out that ghastly piece of hair is the one given to him at birth.” Well, not everyone could have hair that would allow them to appear as stunning as most of their society. And Leta was very much relieved to know that not everyone, old Parkinson included, was among those she had to dress. Somehow the witch felt that a being such as that one would only make her clothing look all the worse for it.

“If you’re not having fun, I take it you won’t be gracing this party for too long?” The witch allowed her attention to return to her cousin, smile ever present on her lips. Leta admired the other, appreciated just observing how one such as Bellatrix could establish herself within the world, they lived in. “I cannot blame you; I am only here to support my friends. Mainly Emir.” No matter their history, the witch saw the other as a friend and one she was glad to support for any event he may decide to host. “I haven’t seen Alara, but then again, there are plenty of people around.”

The Selwyn’s were practically family at this point, especially with Evan’s engagement to the youngest of the sisters. “I don’t plan on staying for too long either, though. Just wanted to spend some time. I do plan on being home before midnight.” A smile, soft in comparison to the witch next to her. - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Bellatrix was only here for Evan's sake - and by extension for Leta. Her cousin's engagement to the Selwyn girl was incredibly perplexing, but it seemed Evan would not be shifted on the matter, no matter how much Bellatrix voiced her utterly scathing opinions. Foolish man. His brain must have been diminishing at the same rapid pace as Alara's progress towards blood treachery. How he couldn't see it coming, she had no idea. But who was she to fathom the minds of testosterone impaired men?

On the opposite side of the room to Leta, Bellatrix had been striding the perimeter with the air of a caged witch almost ready to snap her bonds. A glass of champagne was poised in one hand, yet held inelegantly, dangled by the rim and held low beside her hip as she sauntered and observed. She paused only upon identifying Leta, her expression transmuting from brooding preoccupation to open enchantment. She adored her cousin - perhaps too much. Leta represented everything she strove to protect. Purity and grace. Beauty and intelligence. Nobility and dignity. It would be utterly absurd to expect a witch such as Leta to enter the fray and fight. Bellatrix would do it for her, with savage and uncontained pleasure.

Eyes widening as the woman drew beside her, Bellatrix pulled back as though in shock and laughed curtly. "Fun? My darling, I have never seen such a tame party. I am almost tempted to set a few tapestries on fire to liven things up. Or perhaps I should barbecue old Parkinson's toupée. It looks like a half-dead puffskein. May as well cremate it and make it a dead one."

[fcrox]

There was a certain guilt, and anger that mixed into her shock as she stood facing the witch. How she’d let the other hex and drag her along was beyond her. An auror, trained for exactly those types of situations and yet here she stood, clearly having failed to live up to that. Then again, Hestia could not recall a single case in which someone has so brazenly dared to abduct an auror right outside the ministry, seemingly without even bothering to cover up.

And then the question hit her. “Your cousin? That’s what this is about?” Regulus Black, missing. It was the only thing spoken about within the auror office. That, and whatever case needed solving. “We are looking for him. That’s all I can tell you. That’s all I am going to tell you.” In all honesty, the witch didn’t know anything more than that. The young wizard had gone missing, vanished like he’d never existed to begin with and not a clue could be found about his whereabouts. Hestia Jones didn’t need to lie for something like that, if ever. "I'm sorry this has happened to your family, but I cannot help you." - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Starter for: Hestia Jones @fcrox Where: outside the Ministry When: as she finishes work

Bellatrix was working her way through both Aurors and suspected Order, alike. She didn't give a shit for 'official investigative procedures'. Trust the Ministry? She couldn't think of anything more hilarious. The Auror Department was a hellhole full of fatter snakes than Slytherin's worst nightmare. If anyone was going to find Regulus, it would be her. Today was Hestia's turn. She'd waited for her to leave and followed, persuading her into a secluded corner with an innocent little Imperius before seizing her arm and apparating to more suitable surroundings. Appearing in a field, she released the curse and stood with her wand directed firmly at the other witch. Wildly reckless, she cared nothing for how this interaction would proceed, her faith blind and unshakeable, knowing she would not let Hestia leave without securing her own anonymity.

"Where's my cousin, Jones? Don't lie."

[fcrox]

The cries of a child that late in the evening had brought her to the door, charging in fear of finding a scene and yet forcing herself to slow down in order to open the door quite the opposite way; calm and careful. What a pointless endeavor. No time passed before she found herself on the floor, ready to cry out and yet, there wasn't time for that either. Confundus, another thing Beatrice had not been prepared for. The witch felt a confusion, almost through a daze. Grateful, that was what she felt, no? Her hand reached out, allowing the other witch to pull her up. "Right." Bea was nodding before she even knew why. "I was making some soup. Over in the kitchen."

The witch didn't even notice the charms by the door, only looking at the whole mess in confusion as she moved toward the kitchen and the soup in question. "Are you here for dinner? Did I invite you?" Nothing made sense and yet the former Gryffindor did not dare to question what was going on. Plates were fetched almost on their own, on autopilot the table was set before her feet carried her back to the stove almost on their own accord. "Did you want a plate?" In the back of her mind Bea was having this feeling that something was off, but couldn't put her finger on it. Did it matter? At the end of the day this was a friend, over for dinner and Bea knew how to be a host, if nothing else.

It was almost comical, in a better sense, to know that the witch next to her was Bellatrix. And still, their history - the bad parts, had seemingly been removed from her mind entirely; even if only temporarily. Gone was the memory of fire or the shed, gone the dislike for the other. "I do have some cake in the cupboard. I've only made it yesterday." - @bellatrix-lestrxnge

Starter for: Beatrice Abbott @fcrox When: the night of the Flint/Vanity wedding Where: her flat

Bellatrix did not care for weddings. She cared for blood. So when Farid Shafiq had come to her with details of a plan to bring Edgar Bones to his knees, she'd gone all in, twisting it with her own horrific intentions. There was no love lost between her and Beatrice Abbott. Using the witch as a pawn would be nothing but sweet. She fully intended to paint her little flat red with her filthy blood and the drawn out sound of her screeches.

Appearing soundlessly, she stood as still and as cold as the shadows that obscured her. Her wand hung limp at her side, gripped between slender fingers that would coil and snap a neck as readily as casting any spell. She was a dangerous witch. Impulsive and clever, known for declaring her presence with shameless ferocity. Yet here she was, as silent as a lamb. Bellatrix was not a fool. When required, she could think clearly and precisely, planning with meticulous and excessive detail. Such had been her aim for this evening. She knew precisely what she would do, and it began here - scrutinising the surroundings for signs of defence, while her pulse thundered and rattled her chest with an ever-increasing lust for action.

Spotting only one wizard, she slowly grinned. He would be no challenge, and she was sorely tempted to add him to her night's pleasures. But since she needed a way to summon Edgar from the wedding, he could consider himself fortunate - she would let him go. Affixing her mask, she stroke forward, debilitating the man with absurd facility. A quick hex caused him to stumble, another drawing him rapidly into the air like the puppet that he was. And then she cast her first Imperius of the night, compelling him to locate Edgar at that ghastly wedding and bring him here with news of Beatrice's danger. Off he went, scurrying like a rat and disapparating in the rain.

Now the fun could begin.

With no further need for her mask, she tucked it away and shook the witch's door, calling out as though she were a child in need of help. Blasting it in was always an option, of course. But why remove the fun? She should have been an actress.

The door opened cautiously and predictably. She kicked it forward, a hex pinning Beatrice to the ground as she bent over her and revelled in the fear that gripped her features.

"You should be more careful, my sweet." Another moment passed, her exhalations surging wildly as she looked upon her prey like a snake about to feast. Placing her wand beneath Beatrice's chin, she saw her terror increase and laughed as though it were the greatest joke she'd seen all year. But it wasn't Bellatrix's open pleasure that she should have feared. It was her silent focus, which now calmed her laughter and sharpened her expression. She cast the Confundus, making Beatrice believe she was an old friend. Then she extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Clumsy you! Falling over your own feet." Reaching behind, she slammed the door shut and cursed it locked. "Is that dinner I smell?"