oh the winter winds || [THEO]

Contrary to seemingly popular belief, stress relief tended to be hard to come by for the raven-haired Slytherin. Bellatrix Black often found that the only relief that she managed to feel came from her lessons with Riddle. She was allowed the creative freedom to spin whatever spells came into her head, throw incantations in every direction and watch them wreck chaos within her own little world.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t have her lessons all the time. She was caught up with studying for her NEWTS, a looming impossibility of the future. Why did she even need the bloody tests if she was determined to sell her soul to the Devil himself? She was not one to be swayed away from what she really wanted to do and had mapped out the day to review some Quidditch plays that she had come up with over the past couple of weeks. It wasn’t nearly as therapeutic as slinging dummies across the room, but it certainly had advantages to working on her NEWT practice essays.

The snow around her had been cleared, a small patch of grass visible underneath her as Bells breathed in the fresh air. Then she began working. In the thin layer of snow that was beginning to fall again, she was drawing X’s and O’s, arrows and dashed lines, all in a variety of ways. This was her way of constructing her own plays for the upcoming season; she had to see it laid out for her. Being captain wasn’t easy - especially for a Beater. More often than not, they were passed up for the Chasers and Seeker types, seeing as most amateurs thought that they could do the job better. People believed that beaters were the brute strength of the team, throwing their bludgers in what ever direction they could swing. But Bells knew better. The Beaters were the heart and soul of her team, and that was exactly why she had been named captain this year.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, she drew a new X that represented her on-the-field counterpart, Theodore Nott. Nott had been her Beater-in-Crime since their third year. Digging her finger into the snow a bit harder than she should have, Bells dragged a line of an arrow down the mock field that she had created. Contemplating the left or the right double back, she could practically hear the Slytheirn crowd chanting her name. Until she thought of the atrocity of a shot she had at the last scrimmage against Gryffindor. Hadn’t even come close to Potter, ”Dammit!” She growled, throwing her hand into the snow and destroying the mental game that she had been playing.

It wasn’t going to work. She needed to get back into the swing of things - needed to get her mind refocused. If Slytheirn had any chance of winning the Cup this year, she was going to need to be on the top of her game, and she most certainly wasn’t there now. In a huff, Bells leaned back in the snow and put her hands over her eyes. It was going to be a hell of a long road to victory if her brain kept this up.