It was snowing, and it wasn't going to stop for a while. Kingsley had seen this kind of snow before, and it was always ending in tragedy.
Bellatrix was sitting at the typewriter, frowning, and itching her Dark Mark. They found the typewriter in the attic of the Weasley's house, and with some force Kingsley dragged it down the stairs.
"What are you writing, exactly?" he asked, slightly annoyed by the seldom clicks.
"A book," she answered, still frowning, lips turned downwards. "Do we have any pomegranate?"
"No. What kind of book?"
"Historical memoir."
"That's a thing?"
"Yes."
"Lovely."
She stood up, which made the space in the closet even more constricted. "Let's go to Diagon Alley."
"Is that really the best idea?"
"Why not?"
"Well," he said. "You're a Death Eater. I'm an Auror. The Alley is in ruins."
"Exactly why we should go," she said.
"It might be bad for the—"
She turned around, eyes rolled, arms struck outwards. "King!"
"What?"
"You're doing the thing again!"
"What thing?"
"The worrying thing!"
He growled at her and she giggled like a child and collapsed onto him. They stared up at the towels surrounding them at breathed in the clean scent of fabric softener and cleaning supplies.
"I love you," whispered Bellatrix.
"I love you too," whispered Kingsley.
.:.
Because they were them, they were rather imposing, and together, they were a force to be reckoned with.
Diagon Alley was decrepit, barely functional in comparison to what Kingsley remembered a few years before. Bellatrix, however, delighted in the darkness, wearing some dress taken from Molly's funeral clothes, twirling manically and humming to herself.
"Do you think I could get some robes? That would be lovely, right?"
"Bellatrix, I don't have any money."
She grinned and took out a tiny change purse filled with Galleons. "I'm a Black. I was practically conceived in gold."
Kingsley swallowed and followed her into the only open clothing store. They were in there a moment for a moment before he realized that Bellatrix was giving a disdainful look to nearly everything in the store.
"Bellatrix, stop it."
"It's just so…"
"Modern?"
"…yes."
He threw a sweater at her. "Just try it on. We need to appear normal."
She sighed and stared at a pair of jeans. "They're so, I don't know, Muggle."
"Do you want to move out of a linen closet?"
She nodded.
.:.
Twenty minutes later, they left with an array of clothing.
"I will regret this forever," said Bellatrix, wearing a rather conservative looking dress.
Kingsley smiled. "You look nice."
"I look like a mum."
"You are a mum."
"Oh."