Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: I'm sorry if there are mistakes, the website has a tendency to sometimes mess up my documents. :/
)O(
It glides into the cell, its black cloak trailing behind it as its scabbing, rotting hands reach out and touch the face of the woman in the corner. She shrieks and pulls her head back and knocks it off the stone wall – she winces and she pulls her prisoner outfit tighter around her skinny body. She turns her head and puts it against the wall, shaking.
"Go away," she manages to breathe, "I've got nothing of interest for you."
The creature retreats, knowing she speaks the truth. It's disappointed. She used to be so full of spirit and life it could feed off. As it leaves the cell its rattling breath almost sounds like a chuckle and her eyes look up, peering through her mass of hair.
Glancing down at her left forearm, she traces the outline of the mark with a filthy fingernail. She sits like this through the rest of the night, and when her cousin's name is screamed out by a male voice, she snarls, her fingernail digging into her flesh and piercing the skin.
When the blood begins to pool out and drip onto the ground, she laps it up, not wanting to waste Black blood.
More shouts of 'Sirius Black!' are heard and she screams for them all to shut up. It's silence for a minute or so until a rough, deep voice calls back to her.
"Thought they'd broke your spirit, Bella," the voice chuckles.
Bella.
Bella.
Three sisters sit at a low table, pouring tea. They're equally beautiful, though one has dark beauty, one angelic and the other simple. The blonde one and the brunette giggle, but the black-haired one waves her hand and the tea's spilt, staining the lace material that was thrown over the table.
"Bella," her two sisters moan.
"I'm sick of playing games like these," Bella snaps. "Let me show some real fun."
And then she leads them outside into the Manor's gardens with a dagger in her hand that they don't see.
She turns around and the sleeve of her dress in drenched in red, and her sisters both know what it is.
"Ew!" the blonde squeals.
"What did you do?" the brunette shrieks.
"Calm down," Bella laughs, showing them the cut in her hand. "Come on; let me do the same to you."
If they're honest, it's against their will, but they let Bella cut their hands anyway, even though little Cissa won't stop crying
Rolling her eyes, Bella slaps her hand down on both her sisters' in turn. She forces them to link hands and press one cut down on the other, and they both wince in pain.
"That wasn't fun," 'Dromeda complains. "That hurt!"
"Shut up," Bella laughs, "now we've got each other's blood in our veins."
"We're sisters," Cissa mutters, "we had the same blood anyway."
"But now it's a symbol. We're not just sisters, we're blood sisters. We'll stick with each other through thick and thin, won't we? Even if it's as thick as Irma Crabbe was!"
And she stops lapping up the blood, because she's got the taste of her blood traitor sister in her mouth and realising that makes her want to be sick.
She scrapes the wound against the wall behind her and then she laughs bitterly to herself.
Her childhood ignorance and bliss amuses her. And she knows that there's no longer any part of her that would forgive Andromeda.
"Never," she whispers in response to Rodolphus.