Or Dear Bellatrix,

who likes to play with her food before she eats it.

OOC.

Ooc

thele-strange:

The elegant figure that loomed, quite literally, over him moved slowly, precisely, completely aware of her actions. The sudden change in posture should have come as no surprise, in truth, and yet it stunned him. The words of argument he wished to utter never passed his lips.

Her eyes consumed him. In the whispering gloom of the common room, they almost glowed, cast in shadow and filtered by moonlight. A hypnotic sight, yes, and deliciously terrifying. A pleasant chill ran down his spine. 

“Well. She isn’t, so what have I to feel disgusted by?” He said clearly and with as much boldness as he dared. Though he hadn’t actually done all that much in her company, he felt no need to divulge this information to Bellatrix. In truth, he felt no need to do anything but spare a kiss for the Gryffindor in question and, at times, rather resented even that. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, but rather because, in a way, he thrived on her innocence, on absence of bloodthirsty rage or hatred she felt. She had a temper, that was evident, but she felt no true loathing. She was pure, and he fed on that purity. 

The heat of Bellatrix’s breath on the back of his neck and the opening of her low-cut dress were both tauntingly close, inviting and yet distressing.

Amelia— the thought was interrupted by her shrill, indecorous laugh, a sound which he had admired for quite some time. She had never disguised her joy, however twisted, never quieted herself or adjusted her manner to suit the present company. She scarcely gave a care for the thoughts of those surrounding her and that, in itself, was enviable.

Crossing the space between them she rested her hand on the back of his chair and tugged on a stray thread on the shoulder of his shirt. “Did you ever ask the girl?” she said under her breath. Pulling hard on the thread it gave a pop and detached from his shirt. She rolled it between her fore finger and thumb while she walked around to stand on his left side. Tossing the string aside she crossed her arms and peered down at him.

“You didn’t think. You just acted. You don’t know who she is, where she’s come from, or whose blood runs in her veins.”

Her tone was flat, she was stating facts that she knew to be true just by the way Rodolphus had reacted only minutes ago. He had some infatuation with the girl. For whatever reason Bellatrix could not puzzle it out. Though, if Rodolphus knew Amelia to be anything less that pure-blooded he would drop her, wouldn’t he? He recent actions made Bella think twice. Who was this person she thought she knew? Did he still enjoy the same things he always had? The same things Bella did herself?

Bellatrix shook her head, causing her long curls to sway slightly. To him it might have looked as if it were a disapproving shake of the head, though it was more to rid herself of the uncertainty of the matter.

She glanced down at him once more and tugged on a flyaway lock of his dark hair, causing his head to follow the pull, rather harder than she would have intended. She was beginning to feel the stirrings of anger in her stomach. Anger she had repressed most of the day to deal with other matters that had come to hand. On seeing Rodolphus again they boiled up inside her like some foul potion.

Leaving him sitting in his own chair she sat on the couch lounging back so she was laying sideways but still sitting up, resting on her elbow, her feet up on the cushions. She knew it was a vulnerable position, but that was what body language was about and she had been forced to fight in uncompromising positions before.

Bellatrix stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to confirm or deny what she had said. Though it didn’t matter much. Regardless of whether the girl was a pure-blood or a piece of garbage, she was an enemy in Bellatrix’s eyes simply for trying to take what wasn’t hers, what could never be hers, what had been Bellatrix’s from the start. Something Bella would never take kindly to was someone stealing something that belonged to her, and eventually, through right or force of power, she would get it back.

(Source: bellaohbella)

Anonymous asked: You're going to make an enemy of the wrong person some day. I can't wait.

You think so do you? Ah you can’t wait….that’s amusing.

Well as refreshing as it is to hear something I hear multiple time on a daily basis….oh wait.

And I can’t wait until you’ve got the cojones to show your face, coward.

thele-strange:

He allowed himself a small chuckle at her outburst, the scenario seeming again familiar and repetitive. It was always this way, so unchanged even after all these years. A brief flash of emotion would lighten her eyes or a fountain of enraged words would burst from her lips, both hurriedly hidden away beneath a thick layer of icy indifference. It was comforting, such a tradition. The much rehearsed performance left no time for idle thought or doubt, no spare second to change his manner or wording. 

Reliable. Familiar. Safe. Though he much doubted anyone else would use the words in reference to the dark-haired girl at which he stared, he found the phrase particularly fitting. At all times, he knew where he stood with her, where he could fault and she could triumph. She would never beg for his admiration or sigh after him like some paper ballerina and he, in turn, would never desire the same adoration of his wit and charm that he enjoyed hearing on the lips of others. 

“It could be worse,” he stated, mock seriousness spread across his jaw. “She’s not a muggleborn.”

Or was she? Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t exactly asked her and the hints he’d dropped had been sufficiently ignored. Her family was quite unknown to him, certainly not a part of the higher society of wizards, and she had no trouble with other muggleborns that he knew of and—

But he would have known! Surely he would have heard it whispered, perhaps seen her taunted for it. There was no mudblood lurking these halls that he did know about, had not tortured at some time or another in the corridors. And she didn’t seem like one. 

The uncertainty dawned on him quite suddenly, causing his forehead to crease in confusion. He barely knew her, what was he doing? Frolicking around with some girl he didn’t even know the blood status of! It was absurd to say the least, not to mention a little offputting—

“You’re getting in my head, Bellatrix. Stop that.”

She turned away from him at his chuckle, seemingly uninterested. The moment the next words escaped his lips she jerked her head around to squint at him. The way he had said it made it seem like he knew what he was talking about. Which was why Bellatrix studied him so closely in the brief moment after his statement.

He wasn’t sure…the crease of his brow the way he looked down at his hands. That was all Bellatrix needed from him to be sure that he and the Gryffindor girl hadn’t actually talked about this rather important subject. She could help but let a smile, albeit a mischievous one, grace her lips at his next words.

“I’ve been there all along darling.”

Bellatrix stood, walking around the back of the couch she had been perched on she removed her heavy cloak and threw it over the couch. Placing both her hands on the dark wood detailing of the furniture she leaned over looking down at him. Her hair swung from her shoulders to dangle down on either side of her face, guiding the eyes to her revealing dress. All the while the grin stayed put on her lovely but gaunt features. The way she moved around him was very obvious, an idiot could see what she was doing. Bellatrix knew how to use body language, and her body, to her advantage. Not everything about her was foul words, hexes and curses. When it came to Rodolphus she knew how to move and which way to move to make him react.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Now she was the one taunting him. Bellatrix knew that his patience could only go so far until he either stormed away, or actually did something about it. She would push him to one of the two, as she always did. Though he would rarely ever storm away from her, because that would mean she had won by default. Something she knew Rodolphus couldn’t live with.

“It would certainly be unfortunate for you if she were a mudblood…wouldnt it? I mean, I’m certain you’ve done certain…” she feigns gagging, “things…with her. You must feel so dirty! And not dirty in the positive sense of the word, oh no no, dirty as in disgusting…disgusted! You touched that thing.”

She was nearly laughing now, as she straightened herself, placing her hands on her hips.

(Source: bellaohbella)