Marching On || OPEN

Bellatrix had settled into leaning against the open archway of the courtyard, admiring the way that the snow had fallen over the ground; practically untouched in this area of the castle.

She slowly looked up at the speaker and found the faintest tugs of a smile pulling at her lips. A practical stranger and at the same time, long term acquaintance stood before her. How many years had she known the Lestrange family? They had been her constant companions since she was very young. Thrust together with Rodolphus from the time that she could walk, the younger brother had constantly been on his heels, following in those empty footsteps Rod left behind. How curious it was that Rabastan had found her today. How very curious indeed. She was sure that the look of surprise was apparent on her face: she could feel her eyebrows raise, her head cock slightly to the side, and her fingertips wrap around the edges of her elbows as she folded her hands across her chest.

”Oh Lestrange, you know flattery will only get you so far-” Bells breathed, reveling in the taken-as-a-complement description of her appearance. Dreadful was always what she was shooting for. Her harrowing nature was what made her head tick. You could get a thousand places by being normal, but you could get a thousand and one by creating yourself in the image of dread and danger. Looking at him, however, she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She remembered the blood, the pain, the screams of her sister in demonic nature when Integra had discovered him. It was so-

Red, in stark contrast to the world around her. Bells bit down on her lip ever so slightly, intrigued by the dynamic that raged within her skull. Red - the color of blood freshly spilled - colliding with the serene scene of white around her. Breaking out of her subconscious, she realized that she had been staring, rather intently, at the boy that now sat before her upon the bench.

”You’ve picked up an atrocious habit.” She muttered, pushing herself away from the archway and walking toward the seated Lestrange brother, ”Muggle cancer sticks.” As much as she threw a fit about the blasted cigarettes, she held out her hand just the same, as if she was expecting him to just hand over one to her. After all, they were practically family by now. And family was the strongest bond in the world.

Bellatrix leaned her head back ever so slightly, an eerie sigh of air falling from her lips. Had her gentleman companion been listening carefully enough, he would have heard the slightest inclination toward laughter. Although she had never considered the fact, Rabastan was indeed a Lestrange and could most certainly charm a woman like never before, just like his brother. Returning her head to her normal resting place, she locked eyes with the younger brother of her betrothed.

The raven-haired Slytherin rolled her eyes at the mention of Integra finding his antics attractive. Far too often she was repulsed by the relationship that Echoes had with the younger Lestrange; jealousy was abundant in her thoughts, ”I’ll stop you there before we cross some sort of unseen line between our personal lives.” Bells buried her fingertips in the snow that was left on the bench, hoping that the numbness would start to spread through her whole hand.

”Ah yes, Hell’s Angels reunited,” Bells mused as she reached up to run a hand through her tussled dark hair, pushing it off to the other side of her head. Her delicate hands plucked away the cigarette and then she placed it in-between her lips, letting it hang for but a moment before inhaling deeply. Words were falling from the boy’s mouth, words that she would normally ignore if they were in the comfort of the common room. But here they were, sitting alone in the courtyard, with nothing else to occupy her attention. She chose to ignore his thank-you’s, finding them unnecessary. Pulling the cancer stick from her mouth, she exhaled in the other direction, using the momentary distraction to turn her face away from Lestrange.

The corners of her lips tugged ever so slightly. In the pit of her stomach, there was a feeling of delight. She remembered the tactile sense of Lyra’s hair in her hands as she turned her neck to the sky in hopes of execution. The tantalizing memory of her laughter ripping through the forest. Integra and Bellatrix had been vigilantes that evening, as it were. The eldest Miss Black wasn’t sure that she had ever been thanked for anything in her entire life. She wasn’t the kind of woman that went out of her way to do things for others and - when she did - they tended to be destructive and chaotic, as opposed to helpful.

Control, She reminded herself as she pushed her lips together into a thin line, turning back to Rabastan. Silence clung to the air around them and Bellatrix stared. The boy was so deep in thought, so deep that she was curious as to what he was thinking about. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and placed it back near Rab’s lips, holding it out for him, ”You owe me one.” She breathed, her tone of voice seemingly bored, although she was more than interested in the conversation, ”What are you stewing about?” She finally asked, eyes never leaving the brilliant ones of her new-found companion.

She could feel herself attempting to scoff at the pathetic boy’s words. Who in their right mind thought that beautiful words and pretty advances would get them anywhere in life? Bells knew for certain that strong spells, cunning, and determination were the only things worth striving for. Carefully, she raised both of her eyebrows as if she was contemplating his words - although she was doing nothing of the sort. She didn’t believe a word that he was saying, however, for the sake of their future...relationship, she would pretend that she was weighing the merit of his strange ideas.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, her hands didn’t go rigid from the mention of a wedding. She didn’t feel the anger rising up from the pit of her stomach, nor did she feel anything resembling the normal fire of detest that seemed to plague her mind when she thought of Rodolphus in the past. Instead, she felt the tiniest of a smirk resting on her lips. Bellatrix was not - by any stretch of the imagination in love with Rodolphus Lestrange. Times changed, however, and people changed. With her father’s death, she had discovered the unadulterated need for her to perpetuate her family’s name and good-fortune. She was to be an example of what a true pureblood family was to look like. And if that meant marrying some stuck-up twat that pushed every button imaginable, then so be it. She would do what she needed to.

”Summer. There’s just something so-” About to venture off into the world of delicate statements about weddings, Bells found herself gagging. This wedding was nothing more than show for her, for all of them and she had no idea in the slightest how to plan a wedding, let alone a wedding of the joining of two of the most prestigious pureblood families. It was going to be a disaster if she didn’t find help, ”It will certainly be a show. Perhaps a murder will ensue and we’ll all be spared.” They would both be eighteen by the time the warmest months of the rolled around; an ample age for a Black and Lestrange to join houses, ”I trust you’ll be first groomsman?” Bells patted his leg with perhaps a bit too much force and felt the corners of her lips curl up even more.

Alecto gave Rabastan a sarcastic smile as he replied to her, and then turned her attention back to Bellatrix, largely ignoring him. If Rabastan wanted to pout like a spoiled child about the whole thing, that was his choice. He was clearly too far up his own arse to try working with Alecto to find a way out of this wedding without either of their heads ending up on the chopping block. Fine. Alecto would work things out on her own. But if baby Lestrange thought it would be as simple as stamping his feet and refusing to walk down the aisle, he'd have a shock in store for him when his family and the Carrows came down on him for not following their wishes. 

Bella gave Alecto a small smile, and Alecto returned it in kind. Bellatrix was one of the few people Alecto respected. The two had been what you might even call friends for years now. Wedding plans were the topic of discussion, and it wasn't long before the Mortelle boy was brought up. Alecto had, of course, heard the rumours. She thought much more highly of Rodolphus than she did of his brother, and the two had been known to go to bed together on more than one occasion, always with pleasing results. Personally, she thought Rodolphus could do better than a taintblood, and a Hufflepuff at that, but that was his business. Alecto wasn't interested in gossip or rooting out others secrets. There were much more interesting endeavours.

Bellatrix said that there would be room in her bed for three, and Alecto's lip curled into a smile at the thought. 
"That has potential," she said, with a wicked grin. It was no secret that Alecto was rather open when it came to all things sex, and always had been. She tucked the threesome idea away, for later exploration. If she were so inclined, she could probably find willing participants...

At that point Alecto was brought out of her musings by Bellatrix asking when their- hers and Rabastan's- wedding was. Alecto wrinkled her nose in distaste. 
"The day after I drop dead," she said, lightly. "They'll need my dead body to perform the ceremony over." But even as she spoke, she looked at Bellatrix with the resigned look of someone going to the gallows. Bella would understand; she was in the same boat. Alecto might talk like there was no way it was going to happen, but as daughters of prominent pureblood families she and Bellatrix understood what it meant to do your duty... and to have that drilled into you every day since the moment of your birth. Alecto understood, as much as Bellatrix did, the importance of keeping the bloodlines pure. More and more she was beginning to think that her only way out would be to show her value as something other than wife and child barer. She needed a chance with the Death Eaters to show them just what merciless looked like. 

Bellatrix knew the look that Alecto was giving her. She didn’t even have to look at the girl to understand, the sound of her voice and way that she tilted her head gave it all away. It was the same look that could have been seen upon her face over the past couple of years when someone brought up her own betrothal. Straightening her back, still refusing to look at Carrow and return the pitiful look, she kept her eyes keenly trained on her fingernails, ”Marriage is simply a formality that must be endured for the perpetuation of our race, lest it be polluted with...filth.” She breathed, as if it was nothing.

Never had she thought those words would come out of her mouth with such simplicity. Thoughts averted to another time for a moment, Bellatrix found herself wondering what married life could have been for her if Maxwell hadn’t gone off and gotten himself-

She stopped her thoughts right there, refusing to let them go any further. After receiving the letter detailing his passing, she had refused to talk about the Slytherin boy. He was her past now, nothing more. The Lestrange family was her future. And - as Rabastan had been chatting on about - they were on for big things.

However, the the mention of the secret club - the Death Eaters - that Bells herself had become so fond of over the last couple of months, caused her to stiffen again in disagreement. Here, in the middle of the grassy patch of public practice space, was not the appropriate place to be discussing such matters of privacy. If Riddle caught wind that they were spreading rumors, he would burn them all, ”As much as I’m impressed by your sudden fascination with hearing yourself talk, Rab, I hardly think now is the time to boast about our doings.” She muttered under her breath, finally dropping her hand to her lap again and turning to look at Alecto. A sudden and unexpected flash of anger seared through her veins and she shook her head. She very much enjoyed the company of Lecto, but the girl could be short-sighted as Rabastan took no time in pointing out, ”Die for something more than an unwanted betrothal, Carrow.” She had chosen her words carefully as to not agree with Rab completely, but still convey the same point.

Bells rolled her eyes when Rab threatened to sick the strange Rosier boy on Alecto’s dead body. She stood up and folded her arms across her chest, anxious to breath some fresh air. The tension between her companions was growing stale and uncomfortable and Bells wondered how much longer civility would last. Perhaps they would both kill each other simultaneously and leave her in peace.