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Onyx: The Blackest Winter - Sa13+ http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i9...Maxie/onyx.jpg 100 for Evan Rosier/ Bellatrix Black <3 For Rishi. Because you messed up everything. Finished :: 10th March, 2009 { To Do List } 2. Muggle Studies 3. Transfiguration 4. Ancient Runes 5. Astronomy 6. Divination 7. Care of Magical Creatures 8. Potions 9. Defense Against the Dark Arts 10. Arithmancy 11. History of Magic 12. Charms 13. Quidditch 14. Hogwarts, A History 15. Room 16. Dragonhide gloves 17. Cauldron 18. Whomping Willow 19. Wand 20. Hogsmeade 21. Veela 22. Kneazle 23. Telescope 24. House elf 25. Sorting Hat 26. Quill 27. Owl 28. Timeturner 29. Pensieve 30. Feast 31. Dress robes 32. Common room 33. Classroom 34. Parseltongue 35. Pureblood 36. Muggle 37. Animagus 38. Patronus 39. Duel 40. Spell 41. Thestrals 42. Portraits 43. Headmaster 44. Ford Anglia 45. Torch 46. Dungeon 47. Portkey 48. Leprechaun 49. Yule Ball 50. Boggart 51. Act 52. Bore 53. Chase 54. Dare 55. Egg on 56. Fight 57. Gape 58. Hoot 59. Ignore 60. Joke 61. Kiss 62. Lope 63. Mooch 64. Nap 65. Ooze 66. Pace 67. Quell 68. Roar 69. Slap 70. Team 71. Untie 72. Vex 73. Warn 74. x-tinguish 75. Yodel 76. Zap 77. Cheerful 78. Author's choice 79. Author's Choice 80. Author's Choice 81. Depression 82. Careful 83. Fearful 84. Angry 85. Snappish 86. Daring 87. Plaid 88. Sweet Tooth 89. Past 90. Present 91. Future 92. Chocolate 93. Chicken 94. Allergic 95. Snowball 96. Socks 97. Dictionary 98. Pajamas 99. Newspaper 100. Homework ______________________ Theme # 25: Sorting Hat She had eyes like coals, heavy-lidded and burning. There was something graceful, really graceful, about the manner in which she made her way towards the seat, mid-stage, where the sorting hat sat waiting, brim ruffled. “Who’s that?” a fifth year asked suddenly. “Bellatrix Black. They say she’ll turn out their jewel, the Black’s little pride,” his girlfriend replied, understandably scathingly. “Too tall for an eleven year old,” someone else laughed. Hand on chin, the third year Evan Rosier leaned forward to get a better view of who would, in the coming days, become one of Hogwart’s most passionately admired beauties. |
Theme # 99: Newspaper Theme # 99: Newspaper It was a Sunday, the day after the sorting. Evan rubbed his eyes, eyes that had not slept much in the night – he had been messing around with Gryffindors again. He looked out of a window on his way downstairs. It was early, no later than seven in the morning. He didn’t expect anyone to be awake, and so he went in. Into the great hall. She sat there, reading a newspaper. Too tall for an eleven year old, last night’s words rang into his mind. The burning eyes scarcely glanced up, even as he took a seat besides her. |
Theme # 73: Tones of Warning Theme # 73: Warn “I’m warning you.” “Get out of my way, you –” Unsurprisingly, Evan halted. If the first voice was haughty, the second was haughtier – And he knew both. “What’s going on?” he asked coldly, stepping into the corridor. Bellatrix Black glared at him, arms folded across her chest. Avery Regent, his notorious Slytherin friend, stood in front of her, wand raised. Their group – Evan’s group – was famous for this: for using curses well beyond their years, for scaring the daylights out of first years. But the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Leave her alone, Regent.” |
Theme # 84: Angry Theme # 84: Angry Avery’s eyebrows went up so high, Evan thought they might disappear into his hair. - Evan didn’t care. Bellatrix threw her head back, eyes blazing. “I don’t need you help to deal with a pig-headed third year,” she spat with pride. He felt as if someone had punched him in the face. “If you knew who you were talking with, you’d think twice before babbling, kid,” he snapped in angry tones. It happened before he knew, before he could even close his mouth: her wand flashed red, and he was sprawled on the ground, a gash on his cheek. |
Theme # 86: Daring Theme # 86: Daring “You have to admit – she’s daring.” “Daring? DARING?” Evan half-shouted. “If only she knew what I could have done to her – what I can do to her – she’d be screaming like a baby.” For some reason, Avery wasn’t angry anymore. “Listen, Rosier – she’s the kind of girl we need in our group. That curse she did on you – I wouldn’t expect just any second year to know it.” Evan glared at him, hands clenched around his wand. “She’s going to pay for this, that’s all I have to say. And terribly.” |
Theme # 03: Transfiguration Theme # 03: Transfiguration “Gosh, that guy's – wow.” Diana Roger’s comment made Bellatrix look up from her Transfiguration book. They were by the lake, the surroundings rather crowded. “Who?” she asked lazily. “That one. Hotness supreme,” Diana half swooned. Mildly interested, Bellatrix craned her neck for a better view. She could see the guy’s back, make out the shape of his highly toned physique. His hair fell to the side of his forehead with a strange natural elegance. For some reason, it made her calm, really calm, looking at him. Then he turned, and Bellatrix’s mouth was suddenly hanging open. |
Theme # 85: Snappish Theme # 85: Snappish Rosier. She was staring at Evan Rosier. Diana caught her friend’s expression and – fortunately for Bellatrix – took the disbelief as distaste. “What?” she asked, defensively. “I know you consider all men beneath your awesomeness or whatever, but he’s not that bad, Bell.” With an effort, Bellatrix forced herself to look away. The fringes falling to one side lingered in her mind for a moment, until she shook them away. “He looks like a pile of giant squid fodder,” she said, kicking her spellbook and standing up. “Why so snappish?” Diana asked, ruffled, but Bellatrix had already stormed away. |
Theme # 46: Dungeon Theme # 46: Dungeon She had been alone for most of the day after her little episode with Diana. And yes, Diana was still not able to understand her mood swing. She was walking with her head down, now. For some reason, she felt as if the dungeons were moving while she stood still. “Hey, Black! Want to go on a date with me?” a fifth year called out. Under normal circumstances, she would have punched him. Today, she didn’t. A second later, there was a loud thwack – Bellatrix Black turned to see Evan Rosier’s fist in the fifth year’s face. |
Theme # 7: Care of Magical Creatures Theme # 7: Care of Magical Creatures A ball? Bellatrix Black narrowed her eyes as their Head of House explained about the annual ball that took place after the end-of-year exams, already sure it could never match the standard that the Blacks' grand balls were known throughout the Wizarding World for. "I'm not attending your stupid ball," she said scathingly, swinging her legs off the side of her chair, to leave the Care of Magical Creatures classroom. "I can find a dozen, more pleasurable things to do." "Want to spend the night with me instead, Black?" Evan called from the end of the classroom. |
Theme # 98: Pajama Theme # 98: Pajamas She had been outside, half the night. In the grounds. With Slytherins that, later on, would all become death eaters. But she didn’t know that now. What Bellatrix Black knew, now, was that she was sleepy. Excited, but definitely sleepy. She ran a hand through her cascade of flowing, black hair as she said the password, and made her way into the Slytherin common room. – Only to step back instantaneously. He was there. In the common room. Evan Rosier, jug in hand, pouring himself a glass of water. And even in his pajamas, Bellatrix found, he looked… simply amazing. |
Theme # 93: Chicken Theme # 93: Chicken He knew he was good-looking. Exceptionally so. The number of girls ready to jump off the North Tower, for him, verified that. But Bellatrix Black? What did she have that refused to let him sleep in peace? Even as a first year, she had – in Avery’s words – been “too beautiful for a kid.” And now? It was the Black family beauty – the Blacks were a little too famous for producing handsomeness – that was so evident in her, yes, but there was also something else, something deeper. Taking a bite of his chicken, Evan forced his thoughts off her. |
Theme # 15: Room Theme # 15: Room Bellatrix knew she was breaking curfew [again], but she did not care. Broomstick on shoulder, she sneaked back into the castle, her wristwatch reading two am. It would have been smooth sailing, had she not taken a shortcut. She stepped into the nearest empty classroom - only to feel as if someone was strangling her intestines with cold iron. - Evan Rosier stood near a window, fiercely kissing a blonde Ravenclaw. The couple heard the noise, and broke part. She looked up for a second, and her burning gaze met Evan's. Without a word, Bellatrix lowered her eyes and walked away. |
Theme # 1: Herbology Theme # 1: Herbology "Black?" It was ten minutes to Herbology, and Bellatrix had been pulling on her gloves. She looked around at the voice, and her eyes turned glacial. "What do you want, Rosier?" The scene from last night was burning into her mind - his figure, the darkness, the blonde hair all over his shoulders. She could have almost spat on him. Or cried. She wasn't sure which. "Can we talk? Evan asked, his breathing heavy. For a moment, she was tempted, so very tempted, by the offer. Then she threw her cascade of flowing black hair back. "No," Bellatrix said haughtily. |
Theme # 32: Common room Theme # 32: Common room There had been another bout of snow, in the evening. Almost all the students were outside, bathing in the white-grey fall. Bellatrix Black was an exception. She sat in the Slytherin common room, alone, her head buried into her shoulders. She hated Evan Rosier, she was sure of that. What she could not understand was why, when she loathed him so deeply, was she disturbed by the scene the night before last had shown her. He's popular, isn't he? SUPPOSEDLY handsome, too. Why did I think he wouldn't have a girlfriend? WHAT DID IT MATTER, ANYWAY? |
Theme # 31: Dress robes Theme # 31: Dress robes She had said she would not attend the annual ball. Now Evan couldn’t take his eyes off her, off her silk-like hair; off her blazing eyes that refused to even glance his way; off her flowing, black dress robes. Why had she come? Had she come to make him jealous, as he was so sure she knew he’d be? He knew he didn’t have a chance with her, not because he wasn’t good enough, but because she was too proud to admit she cared for him. He would not have been so hurt if she hadn’t come on Avery's arm. |
Theme # 37: Animagus Theme # 37: Animagus The wind was chilly, tonight. Very, very chilly. Avery yawned, raising his back against the pillow. Which pillow was, incidentally, against a tree. In the grounds. "It's nothing wrong, being an unregistered animagus, Rosier," he half-growled through his yawn. How serious the topic! And still, Evan did not reply. There was a group of make-up freak types checking him out from across the lake - an act that, in the past, would have inflated his already huge ego. Not now, though. Because Bellatrix Black sat, not far away, laughing her head off as she teased a tiny Gryffindor. |
Theme # 19: Wand Theme # 19: Wand “I can’t do it,” Diana moaned. She flicked her wand for the umpteenth time, but nothing happened to the cushions lining the floor of the classroom they were practicing in. “You’re doing it wrong,” Bellatrix yawned. Seated at the room’s back, one leg over the other, she gave her wand a lazy flick. There was a flash of electricity, as her spell tore the cushion into dozens of tiny pieces. “Impressive. Totally beyond a normal first year,” Diana said, eyes wide. Evan, standing in the shadows by the half open door, could not help thinking so, too. |
Theme # 81: Depression Theme # 81: Depression He had never thought he could hate a transferred student this much. The new, French fifth year was tall, and he had that blonde hair that makes a girl look at you. Again. Evan had his own share of crazy females and, seeing how great their number was, anyone would think he need not be jealous of another guy. Not, at least, of the other guy’s looks. It was hard not to be, though, when the whole school whispered about the other guy’s interest in Bellatrix Black. The other guy's interest, and Bellatrix Black's positive response. |
Theme # 70: Team Theme # 70: Team Second year! Bellatrix had been waiting for this year since... well, since the last year. She knew she was excellent at Quidditch, but there had been the silly rule about first years not being able to try out for Quidditch teams. Stupid rule. As she boarded the Hogwarts Express – with kisses from her parents, and half-hugs for Narcissa – her high cheekbones were flushed with red. Diana met her in the corridor, cage in hand. “Guess who’s the new Quidditch captain?” “Who?” Bellatrix asked gaily, all ready to befriend the lucky person the first chance she had. “Evan Rosier.” |
Theme # 72: Vex Theme # 72: Vex Evan Rosier looked thoroughly vexed as the stupid first year demanded he explain why she could not try out for the team. “It’s a rule, and there’s nothing I can do about it. NOW LEAVE,” he shouted. “If I see you –“ He stopped midsentence, his interest suddenly wandering. Completely. Bellatrix Black was walking towards the pitch and joining the line of those trying out, a highly polished, expensive-looking broomstick over her bare, creamy shoulder. “But why?” The annoying first year was persisting unhappily. Not even looking at her, Evan blew his whistle. It was time tryouts commenced. |
Theme # 69: Slap Theme # 69: Slap "Black SCORES!" Bellatrix dived, the wind lashing her dark hair across her cheeks. He should have sped by, Evan, and that had been what he had planned to do. But he could not help looking in the direction she was looking, and he felt as if someone had slapped him when he did. The new French guy everyone talked about, these days - Arnold Crosket, wasn't that his name? - was clapping loudly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. And Bellatrix, eyes burning, was staring back. There was a loud thud and, a second later, Evan Rosier was spiralling downwards. |
Theme # 13: Quidditch Theme # 13: Quidditch Noise - Plenty, plenty of it everywhere. The quaffle, the excitement, the Quidditch match - Bellatrix had forgotten all of it in one instant. And she was speeding downwards, speeding even as the Headmaster jumped to his feet to make sure Evan's landing was gentle, not one causing any further injury to him. "Is he alright?" "Who thwacked the bludger?" "Why wasn't he looking?" Bellatrix bit her lip, her hair a perfect disorder, as she stared down at an unconscious Evan. What she wanted to do now, she could not help thinking, was to kiss him. Full on the lips. |
Theme # 64: Nap Theme # 64: Nap "Professor, he'll be alright, won't he?" The Slytherin Head of House nodded gently. "Yes, Miss Black. He'll come round, soon. You may wait here, if you like." Wait there? WAIT there? Wait there, for him to wake up, and see the worry on her face, the anxiety in her expressions? Bellatrix was sure beyond all doubts that she would have died before she let that happen. "I think I'll go have a nap, Professor," she said, shaking her head. "I need the rest." The Professor smiled. "Good day, Miss Black." With an effort, Bellatrix nodded back. |
Theme # 4: Ancient Runes Theme # 4: Ancient Runes “I don’t get this at all,” Bellatrix said poking her Ancient Runes assignment with her wand. “I don’t, either,” Diana admitted. “I’m going to ask Evan for help.” Bellatrix’s frame stiffened. “Rosier?” she asked, tones suddenly acidic. Unaware of the abrupt change in her friend, Diana nodded. “Couple of older students told me he’s really good at Ancient Runes,” she said with bright eyes. "You can ask him, too – because, from what I know, no other Slytherin really gets anything above an A in the darned subject.” “Whatever,” Bellatrix said, tearing her homework into pieces. |
Theme # 54: Dare Theme # 54: Dare The fifth-year Slytherin lay, sprawled, on the ground. He was clearly badly bruised, and the group of Slytherins that been rooting him on, was now backing off. “That would teach anyone to think twice before they dare me to a duel,” Bellatrix hissed softly, her burning eyes afire. “Anyone else willing to?” The few Slytherins – all boys who were well-known for their dark arts-inclined reputations – that were still standing nearby scattered. A smirk swept across the third year Bellatrix’s countenance. This was his chance. Hands in pockets, Evan stepped forward. “Room thirty-one at midnight, Black.” |
Theme # 100: Homework Theme # 100: Homework “What the heck is this, Rosier?” “What?” Evan asked, looking up with speed, more to hide the fact that he had been staring, across the lake, into the midst of a gang of female Slytherins, than anything else. Evan Rosier never stared at girls – girls stared at him. And like mad. “This is your homework?” Avery asked scathingly, holding up the essay Evan had finished minutes ago. “Pathetic. And you’re supposed to be good at this.” “Give that back,” Evan snapped. How could he explain that he wasn’t interested in anything but a haughty second year, any longer? |
Theme # 2: Muggle Studies Theme # 2: Muggle Studies Muggles. She hated them. She could have killed the mudbloods around - if she didn't have to be expelled from Hogwarts in consequence of her act, that is. [She did not care about being sent to Azakaban - it was the expulsion she cared about at the moment, because Hogwarts was the only place she could see that Rosier, each day - Like now. He was standing a foot, talking to Avery and Nott about which subjects, apart from his usual ones, to take on.] "Think I should opt for Muggle Studies?" Evan asked. Bellatrix banged her head in the nearest table. |
Theme # 39: Duel Theme # 39: Duel Perhaps she should have slept in the afternoon. She was tired, and she was definitely having a hormonal imbalance. And she couldn’t help thinking of the duel, scheduled for twelve am, tonight. She knew she did not have a reason to be scared. She was a third year, he was a fifth year, but what did that matter? Her reputation as an amazing dueling artiste had grown – she had dueled with seventh years, and never suffered a defeat. Not even in her first year. Reassured, Bellatrix rested her head on the back of her chair, and closed her eyes. |
Theme # 33: Classroom Theme # 33: Classroom Evan Rosier was in the abandoned classroom their duel was scheduled in, half an hour before the cluck struck twelve. He knew that, if she came, she would come at twelve sharp, and twelve sharp alone. Bellatrix was not one to waste her precious time, especially for someone she loathed. Which was almost everyone, come to think of it. He hadn’t lost a duel, yet. And she? He had seen her duel, and he knew a lot of the scariest seventh years were scared of what she could do. He wasn’t scared. Just wondering if she would come. |
Theme # 95: Snowball Theme # 95: Snowball It was fifteen to twelve when Bellatrix left for Room # 31. Outside, the winds curled into vast, smoky hazes. It was after curfew, and no one was in the grounds, but she could imagine the Gryffindors playing their stupid game of snowball fights. It was after curfew, and it was freezing. It was after curfew, and it was freezing, and she didn’t even have a jumper on. She never did, actually. Bellatrix was proud of her will and strength – of being able to bear the coldest of colds, unlike most others. Head held high, she stepped into the corridor. |
Theme # 51: Act Theme # 51: Act She was actually looking for him. It hurt her pride, asking him for help. She would rather fail Ancient Runes. But ever since Professor Archon’s threat of not letting her try out for the Slytherin quiddich team, if she did not at least get an A in his subject, had come, she knew she would have to act, to swallow the bitter pill. She had been searching for him all day, now. In the end, she spotted his gang underneath a tree by the lake. And a hammock. Stupid hammock. Yes, they were all there – Avery, Nott, Wilkes. All - except Evan. |
Theme # 57: Gape Theme # 57: Gape “Regent?” Avery looked up to see the full figure of who was openly accepted as Hogwart’s most ardent beauty. Bellatrix swept her dark hair out of her burning eyes, her manner of carriage haughtier than usual. “Yes?” Avery asked curtly, his eyes not leaving her. In the background, Nott whistled. For once, Bellatrix absolutely ignored him. “Where’s Rosier?” she asked roughly. “Gaping at you.” “Excuse me?” A smirk crossing his face, Avery pointed behind her. Bellatrix turned with pride – only to see an even prouder-looking Evan looking at her from the depths of a white, dragonhide hammock. |
Theme # 8: Potions Theme # 8: Potions Bellatrix's robes swirled around her, white snowflakes resting in her sable hair. It was Christmas time, and the Hogwarts Express was here, ready to haul students outside the castle's vastness. "Black?" She turned, shoulders white in he cold. Evan Rosier stared down at her, his arrival as sudden as the eruption of purple bubbles from a colourless potion you could never expect to go wrong. For a moment, her heart went still. "Yes?" "My friends and I have a compartment to ourselves at the front of the train," Evan said deeply. "Maybe you'd like to join us." |
Theme # 5: Astronomy Theme # 5: Astronomy "Rosier was a fallen angel?" Bellatrix Black asked, hand raised from habit, and mouth slightly open. Professor Merrybell nodded, his fat spectacles not at all serving their purpose of fixing his visual impairment as they slid down his nose. "Yes, Miss Black. However, interesting though it may be, this has nothing to do with our current topic. Astronomy, as I was saying -" But, for once, Bellatrix was no longer listening. Rosier. Fallen angel. That certainly explained some things. A lot of things, actually. After all, only a fallen angel could know how to make a smirk brilliant, and naughtiness delicious. |
Theme # 6: Divination Theme # 6: Divination The new Professor wore size does-not-exist-in-the-normal-world glasses, and plenty of shawls. Plenty, plenty of shawls. Beetle red and leaf green, mostly. - Which, incidentally, made her look like a big bug, that had caught fever and never grown well again. Bellatrix stared in her crystal ball, trying not to hex their new Divination professor and concentrate, as she was supposed to, on predicting her immediate future, instead. "Your love has the hots for your best friend!" The big bug shouted dramatically, shaking as she peered into Bellatrix's crystal. Die, Rosier, die, Bellatrix thought sourly. |
Theme # 47: Portkey Theme # 47: Portkey "Mr. Rosier, this is getting ridiculous! You are undoubtedly an exceptionally bright student, but this is the third time in a row that you have not handed in your homework on time. Detention!" Stupid, detention-giving professor. And now he was here, digging through boxes full of junk, in a nearly hopeless attempt to separate anything useful he might come by. Stupid cracked, plastic bottle. Stupid broken, fanged Frisbee. Stupid torn, piece of parchment. Why, oh why, couldn't one of these items turn out to be a portkey, one that landed him right into Bellatrix Black's creamy arms? |
Theme # 94: Allergic Theme # 94: Allergic "ACHOO." "Miss Black!" Madam Blaylock said disapprovingly, looking up to glare at the sneezing, young girl. "Silen -" "AAA-CHOOO." "Miss Black!" Bellatrix quickly stood up, knocking down a couple of books in the process. Which fell over a couple of other books. As she sneezed. Again. "OUT!" The librarian screamed - just as Evan Rosier entered, book under arm."Out if you can't stop your sneezing this instant, Miss Black!" "I'm allergic to Rosier." Bellatrix said, pointing at him as she scrambled out of the library. The last words she heard were: "Mr. Rosier! You may get OUT, too!" |
Theme # 96: Socks Theme # 96: Socks Oh what fun it is to ride - Bellatrix stopped humming as the doors of her favourite store slid open, the scent of chocolate and fresh parchment wafting out to meet her. Shopping for Christmas was one of the things she best adored. There was perfume in the air, and she had a bag full of galleons that weren't going to run out anytime soon. Yes. Bellatrix Black had all the time in the world to shop for the big night, and to choose which socks she was going to buy as an anonymous present for Evan Rosier, this year. |
Theme # 56: Fight Theme # 56: Fight Arnold Crosket. The new, French guy. Quidditch Captain for Ravenclaw. Too handsome to be true. Poison to Evan Rosier's ears. "Crosket! You!" It was Quidditch practice. Ravenclaw Quidditch practice, to be more precise. One of the pretty, black-haired blue-clad chasers gave a dreamy sigh as she spotted Evan, and blushed when she realized he had noticed. Arnold dove down, jumping off his broom. "What do you want, Rosier?" he asked, in an accent. Evan attempted only four words. "Leave Bellatrix Black. Alone." Then he pushed the tall, blonde backwards, turned his back on him, and walked off. |
Theme # 53: Chase Theme # 53: Chase They had been on the same team for two years now and, despite being Captain, Evan Rosier had not mustered the courage to reprimand Bellatrix Black even once. Maybe it was because she was so perfect at her game; because he loved the way in which she chased the Quaffle; because she could score thrice in a row without even trying; and because she did not care how tough a match was. Or maybe it was just because he loved the wind in her hair, and the way her eyes suddenly burnt with passion every time she looked his way. |
Theme # 55: Egg on Theme # 55: Egg on "EVAN ROSIER, YOU -" She caught him in the grounds, seemingly ready to launch herself on him. [Not a bad prospect, as far as Evan was concerned.] "What's the problem, Black?" Evan asked as coolly as he was updating her on the day's weather forecast. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ARNOLD?" "Arnold, who?" Evan asked, yawning. "Arnold Crosket, Ravenclaw quidditch captain, you fool." Evan grinned. "What did he do now, egg you on to pick a row with me because he doesn't have the guts to duel it out, man-to-man?" In a rage, Bellatrix stormed off. |
Theme # 10: Arithmancy Theme # 10: Arithmancy "May I ask why you are late, Mr. Rosier?" Evan made the most pity-garnering eyes he could possibly manage at the fierce-looking Arithmancy professor. "Sorry, sir, I tripped and hurt my knee. Had to pay the hospital wing a quick visit." The professor's face softened, his expressions relaxed. "I apologize Mr. Rosier. You have always been a good student, I know, but there have been reports of your interest in studies fading." Nodding wisely, the professor returned to the board. Behind his back, Evan smirked. Hospital wing? He had been spying on Bellatrix Black, that's what. |
Theme # 35: Pureblood Theme # 35: Pureblood She hated everything. Everything. Everything. She hated the labyrinth-like castle with its vast, green, tree-lined grounds, and she hated the vast, green, tree-lined grounds with their huge patches of emerald grass. She hated the huge patches of emerald grass with their stupid, Giant Squid-infested lake, and she hated the Giant Squid-infested lake with its horde of silly, water-splashing, always-snogging couples. Yeah. Bellatrix Black hated it, and she hated it all. Because she had seen Evan Rosier at half past seven in the morning, kissing a brunette who wasn't even a pureblood. |
Theme # 41: Thestrals Theme # 41: Thestrals They were glossy, skeletal things, creatures whose softness pleased her. A wolf howled somewhere under the post-midnight moon, but Bellatrix did not care - Visiting the Forbidden Forest, and visiting her animal friends, had become a habit, a pleasure. "Can you see them?" a voice asked quietly. Bellatrix turned, sable cascade of hair whipping her face, to see Evan Rosier standing by a tree trunk, his expressions unfathomable, his posture handsomeness supreme. Would she shout at him for following her there, scream at him to go away? Evan waited, his heart beating wildly. "Yes," Bellatrix replied softly, her eyes lowered. |
Theme # 12: Charms Theme # 12: Charms The sweetness of it all was so delicious, so complete, Evan did not want to ruin it with words. For several moments, all was quiet. Then a distant howl broke through the winds, and Evan looked up. Bellatrix's fingers were running across the back of the nearest Thestral, her hair so black and sleek it made him wince. Why does she charm me so much? "Black?" She swallowed. What was behind his charms, behind those unfathomable eyes? And why couldn't he call her by her first name? "Can you see them, too?" she asked quietly. Gently, Evan nodded. |
Theme # 9: Defense Against the Dark Arts Theme # 9: Defense Against the Dark Arts Her Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L had been so awesome, Bellatrix could not find words good enough to describe it. "How good?" Diana, whose own exam had been a disaster, insisted on asking. "As good as a black forest cake?" someone else suggested. "Or maybe the blue of the sky?" "Salazar Slytherin?" "Two helpings of hot, chicken-corn soup?" "The huge, start-studded chandelier in the Great Hall?" "The robes I bought from Hogsmeade, last weekend?" "Ten generations of purebloods?" "A steaming cup of tea?" "Rosier," Bellatrix said, all of a sudden. "As good as Evan Rosier." |
Theme # 14: Hogwarts, A History Theme # 14: Hogwarts, A History He had been kissing the blonde. Again. And she had walked in on them. Again. "Bell?" Diana's voice. Curled up in a sofa in the common room, Hogwarts, A History in her lap, Bellatrix shook herself out of her depressed thinking. "Yes, Di?" "Did you hear the latest?" Diana asked, looking ready to burst any moment. And when Diana looked this excited, it was always gossip she was bursting with. "What, now?" Bellatrix asked without interest. "Evan Rosier broke up with that totally hot girlfriend of his." The book fell out of Bellatrix's lap. "What?" she gasped, dumbfounded. |
Theme # 17: Cauldron Theme # 17: Cauldron There was a whoosh, and Evan Rosier's cauldron burst into flames. Diana yelled, Avery jumped, and Bellatrix swore. "Rosier, you fool!" "It's not my fault, you're the one -" "Me? How dare y-" "BELLATRIX, EVAN, SHUT UP." Diana. Bellatrix and Evan both fell silent, the former livid, the latter grouchy. "I'm not the one who started this," Evan told Diana, by way of explanation. "Oh yeah?" Bellatrix said, firing up once more. "You're the one who set the cauldron aflame. I've never seen a fourth year who's stupid enough to -" Behind them, Nott yawned. |
Theme # 16: Dragonhide gloves Theme # 16: Dragonhide gloves Bellatrix turned to punch Nott, but Diana interfered. "Listen, it's not our fault we're stuck here. It was the Professor's decision to group us, not ours. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can leave. And Bella? Can you please stop being so grouchy, and save us from bursting cauldrons in the future? I know you knew that cauldron was going to burst." Bellatrix groaned. "I can save us from bursting cauldrons, I just can't save us from him," she said scathingly, pointing at Evan as she pulled on a pair of dragonhide gloves. |
Theme # 11: History of Magic Theme # 11: History of Magic The only reason Evan bore History of Magic - which had to be the most boring subject humankind had ever invented - was because, for some reason, Bellatrix Black never missed a class. Sitting now, at the end of the semi-circle of graffiti-attacked, wooden chairs that faced their sleepy, glassy-eyed History of Magic professor, Evan wondered if an attempt to listen to his drowsy voice might just prove a good thing, in the long run. Then he looked to the right, and saw Bellatrix Black, and realized he had much better things to do - Like staring at her neck. |
Theme # 91: Future Theme # 91: Future Career counselling. Evan Rosier rolled his eyes as he exited the green-and-silver decked office of his Head of House. It had been a boring, a really boring, half hour. Most students had been let go within a span of fifteen minutes, but the professor had been especially detailed about his future prospects. “Twelve Outstandings are not to be ignored, Mr. Rosier. Few students achieve this bright a result, and you must -” Pul-lease. What did it matter, if he passed his NEWT’s with one O more, or less? For him, she was his future. – Nothing else mattered. |
Theme # 18: Whomping Willow Theme # 18: Whomping Willow They had a special history, Bellatrix Black and the Whomping Willow. The crazy Black girl was determined to get past him, and Mr. Willow was determined not to let her. She was at it again, today. Diana had let her be – she, for one, was not interested in getting smacked in the head by a big tree. And - WHAM. A branch came crashing down, scratching Bellatrix brutally across the cheek. Warm arms pulled her backwards, and Evan's heart was beating a million times more quickly than usual. “Don’t you do that again, Black. Ever,” he said, face white. |
Theme # 40: Spell Theme # 40: Spell They all said he was crazy about her, the new, French guy who had transferred to Hogwarts just a couple of days ago. Arnold Crosket. He did not stir any emotions within her. She knew he was good-looking. She knew he had those electric blue eyes that could make a more romantic girl swoon, and that deep, blonde hair that might make hair-conscious people look at him - again. And again. And again. But Bellatrix Black was neither a romantic, nor very conscious about her hair. Just a beauty who had fallen under Evan Rosier's spell, and hard. |
Theme # 20: Hogsmeade Theme # 20: Hogsmeade Enough. Yes, he had had enough. Evan Rosier was tired of waiting, of hoping. So, right there, right then, he decided it once and for all: He would ask Bellatrix Black out within the next five minutes, or fling himself into the Giant Squid's arms - err, tentacles. He spotted her in a corridor, in conversation with a highly pleased-looking Avery Regent. Avery noticed him, and came up to him, a twinkle in his eyes. "What do you look so pleased about?" Evan asked grouchily, watching Bellatrix walk away. "She agreed to go with me to Hogsmeade, next weekend!" |
Theme # 22: Kneazle Theme # 22: Kneazle Oww. Evan Rosier swiped at the furball that was so bent upon biting his face off. "Morus! No! You idiot, NO." The thing suddenly withdrew, jumping off Evan to leap into the arms of the person that had just called it off - - Bellatrix Black. "Keep your stupid half-dog in control, Black," Evan shouted, spitting fur out of his mouth. Bellatrix Black scowled. "It's a kneazle, Rosier. And if you can't deal with a cat, I don't except you to know how to talk with a lady." With which words, she turned her back on him. - Again. |
Theme # 21: Veela Theme # 21: Veela Bellatrix sniffed. Holidaying in Bulgaria, she was now realizing, was a lot more than she had bargained for. This very moment, for instance, several, laughing Veelas had just passed by, causing two of her cousins to fall out of their seats. "They're just creatures, get over it already," she said, rolling her eyes and, in an attempt to do something other than slapping the second cousin sitting next to her, lifting up the newspaper lying, neatly folded, in her lap. Which did not mean that she was not secretly hoping Evan had not decided to holiday in Bulgaria, too. |
Theme # 24: House elf Theme # 24: House elf As a rule, Evan was not very conscious about presenting himself in society. He knew he was good-looking enough for just about any girl [exception: Bellatrix Black], and that any girl [exception: Bellatrix Black] would be glad to have him. Today, though, he could not help being so. Very conscious about presenting himself, that is. In fact, for the first time since what seemed like eternity, Evan Rosier was applying perfume. Strong perfume, too. And the reason? Bellatrix Black's scathing comment, when he had passed her group of girls yesterday evening: "You smell like a house-elf, Rosier." |
Theme # 27: Owl Theme # 27: Owl She could feel the tears struggling to get out. It was not for Bellatrix Black to cry - as far as she could remember, she had not cried more than once or twice in the past many, many years - but, today, she could not help wanting to. Evan Rosier had shouted at her, and shouted at her bad. There was the flapping of wings, and Bellatrix looked up, red-but-dry eyed, to see a tiny, golden owl hovering excitedly above her head. The little thing hooted loudly, dropping a piece of parchment in her lap. It read: I am sorry. |
Theme # 36: Muggle Theme # 36: Muggle If there was one thing Bellatrix Black hated more than Evan Rosier, it was muggles. Yes, all of them. And if the rumours she was hearing were true, Rosier's current girlfriend was a muggle-born. A blonde muggle-born. BLOOD TRAITOR! The two things I hate most, together. The infinite grossness their kissing scenes must radiate... Yuck. And thinking this, and other not-so-nice thoughts about the blood traitor and the mudblood, Bellatrix rolled her eyes, taking a peek out of the nearest window to see if Diana was in the grounds. Only to catch them snogging. - Gross. |
Theme # 34: Parseltongue Theme # 34: Parseltongue Bellatrix felt she might drop History of Magic, if this went on any longer - She had been up all night, trying to complete the never-ending assignment they had been given at the ended of their last class, with a "to be handed in tomorrow" that made her want to strangle someone. It was about Salazar Slytherin, the assignment, thank God - She knew many of the things already, like how the founder of her house was a Parseltongue. But, great though she accepted him to be, she sure was glad Evan Rosier didn't look like him in the least. |
Theme # 26: Quill Theme # 26: Quill One more step, and the two of them would have had the High Street out of range of sight. Thankfully for Bellatrix, she and Diana had not yet taken that fatal, one step when her keen eyes spotted you-know-who [no, not Voldemort]. "I just remembered - I have to buy a new quill," she told Diana, beginning to drag her friend into the street where Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was located. Of course, the quill was not the real reason she wanted to go there. The real reason was Evan Rosier, handsome as ever and buying a fat diary. |
Theme # 28: Timeturner Theme # 28: Timeturner There was a strange haze in the air, like smokes of bluish electricity and the fragrance of unsettled dust after a long spell of rain. Bellatrix Lestrange inhaled deeply, running her hand over the immaculate surface of the shelf in front of her. Timeturners. Dozens of them, arranged in clean, spotless rows, their warm, woody-feeling bodies centimetres apart from each other. For a moment, it seemed to hurt, hurt to know what power they held, the power to change the past - her past. They could take her there, again. - Into Hogwarts, her year five; into Evan Rosier's arms. |
Theme # 82: Careful Theme # 82: Careful What am I thinking? Almost as if shocked, Bellatrix pulled back from the shelf of timeturners. She had not experienced emotion other than rage and fear and mad desire in the past many years. Why now, when it was all over, when she was a Lestrange, and not what she once had been? She had to be careful not let the Dark Lord realize what she had thought today. It had surprised, and not in a good way, either, her own self - It would send him into a rage. The Dark arts was her love, now. Evan Rosier - a stranger. |
Theme # 38: Patronus Theme # 38: Patronus "Oh gosh, I can't believe I can do it," Diana gushed. After what seemed like ages of practice, the sixth year was finally able to produce a Patronus. A thin, flimsy one ["useless," as Bellatrix so dispassionately called it], but a Patronus none the less. "I don't see the big deal," Bellatrix said, with apparent distaste. "It's easy. I can cast one in my sleep." Which, she ought to have mentioned, was the perfect time to cast it: Plenty of cheerful memories, considering how the only thing she did while sleeping was to dream of Evan Rosier. |
Theme # 30: Feast Theme # 30: Feast It should have been a simple dinner. That's what Evan had said it would be, anyway. - It looked like a feast. Seated at the table-for-two that had a vase full of red roses in its centre, Bellatrix Black grinned as Evan brought the custard - a luscious mountain of vanilla and milk chocolate, set with sugar-rich sweets. "You seriously don't have a house-elf?" she asked. Evan nodded. "Yeah. Used to, while I lived with my parents. Running away is hard. Do you want more of the cake?" With a small smile, Bellatrix shook her head. |
Theme # 29: Pensieve Theme # 29: Pensieve The mist was thick, curling into foggy nothings, and shapes she hated. The Pensieve stood silent, and Evan Rosier's face stared out at her. Bellatrix Lestrange - When, and how, had the transition from Bellatrix future-Rosier to Bellatrix Lestrange occurred, she wondered? She did not love, would never love, Rodolphus. Why did I leave Evan? Evan. It was only too clear, to her and to him and to everyone else, why she had had to leave him. Their ways had parted, parted so badly. She did not want to think about it. With an effort, Bellatrix closed her eyes. |
Theme # 77: Cheerful Theme # 77: Cheerful "Do you want me to show you around?" Evan asked, glad to see that, for once, Bellatrix was laughing at something other than how he smelled the same way house-elves did [which was, incidentally, not true at all.] She's cheerful. Oh gosh, she's actually cheerful. He was still not over the shock of her acceptance of his offer - the offer that they have dinner together - but that did not mean he had left all his charms in some mouldy, broom cupboard. He could charm her, and he was charming her, and he knew it all too well. |
Theme # 80: Author's choice Theme # 80: Author's choice Bellatrix nodded, rising. "Do you keep this place all by yourself?" she asked, with interest. It was a small house, but a nice one, and she liked it. Though, of course, he had still not told her why he had run away. "Sort of," Evan said. "The girls next door are always wanting to help out," he added, rolling his eyes. They were walking up the stairs now and, of her own free will, Bellatrix took a turn to the right. "No, Bellatrix, don't go into that room -" Too late. - She had already turned the doorknob, and walked inside. |
Theme # 42: Portraits Theme # 42: Portraits For a moment, all was quiet. Then Bellatrix turned to him, her eyes burning. Evan looked down, wordless. His bedroom. It was immaculate, the kind of room that seems too well-groomed because its occupant is too well-groomed, and the kind of room that smells of roses, and French perfume, and many other things that attract you the way shiny, little objects attract toddlers, even though you can't identify them. But it was not this, not any of this, that accounted for the shock on Bellatrix's face, or Evan's wildly beating heart. - It was the portraits. |
Theme # 83: Fearful Theme # 83: Fearful They began from the first wall, and continued all the way to the last. Tall, handsome portraits, in highly polished frames. Tall, handsome portraits that spoke of beauty, and love, and passion. - Tall, handsome portraits of her. Bellatrix. They were all of her, portraits done in pencil, and oil paints, and watercolours. Dozens of them. "You shouldn't have seen this," Evan said quietly. He almost sounded... fearful. As if she would shout on him, ruin the chance she had given him. "I -" She left without a word. Evan knew nothing he would, or could, say would make her stay. |
Theme # 58: Hoot Theme # 58: Hoot If the tiny, Hufflepuff first year had been any wiser, she would not have interfered. Not, at least, when Bellatrix Black was at her most furious. Seemed she wasn't. "Muggles aren't inferior," the little Hufflepuff squeaked, in the same, annoying way as an owl that refuses to stop its hooting even after its third helping of feed. "They -" A lazy flick of the wand; a jet of bluish light. When the Hufflepuff next opened her eyes, she was in the Hospital Wing, and Bellatrix was immersed in her usual game of criticizing Evan, loudly, in front of Diana. |
X-tinguish Theme # 74: X-tinguish It was dark. She had extinguished the lights, half an hour ago. - Sleep wouldn't come. Head buried in her favourite, white pillow, Bellatrix mulled, in her mind, over the day's events. She had been having such a lovely time, such a very lovely time, with him. With Evan. And now? Was it her fault, having walked into his room without permission? She had known he liked her. At least known a little, that he liked her a little. She had never expected to see her own face looking down at her from every corner of his bedroom. |
Theme # 66: Pace Theme # 66: Pace Half an hour later, she gave up trying to sleep. Pace. Pace. Pace. Bellatrix paced up her room, fully aware how useless her attempt to stop thinking of her visit to Evan's, was. Bellatrix paced down her room, fully aware how useless her attempt to stop thinking of Evan was. Did he really love her that much, that madly? And, if yes, why had he never told her, never even done anything to make her think it, in all those years? The clock struck half past three. Bellatrix bit her lip, and wished he was there to hold her. |
Theme # 43: Headmaster Theme # 43: Headmaster Dumbledore shook his head as he looked at the two offenders. "Mr. Rosier, Miss. Black, I'm afraid this has gone on too long," the Headmaster began patiently. "He's always trying to impress me, Professor!" Bellatrix said, at once. "But she -" "Miss Black, Mr. Rosier," Dumbledore said, raising his voice. Silence ensued. Dumbledore sighed. "I am letting you go, this time, with a warning. If I find I have to call both of you to my office again, it will result in the loss of your badges. You may leave." Bellatrix threw Evan a dirty look, and stormed off. |
Theme # 88: Sweet Tooth Theme # 88: Sweet Tooth She had never been this sick before. Bellatrix's 103-and-something temperature stubbornly refused to go down. Diana held her hand till four am, at which time a restless sort of sleep finally rolled over the "sick, Black Beauty," as Avery was nowadays teasingly calling her. Bellatrix woke up at ten in the morning, to find that everyone had left for classes. She would have had a good cry, right there, right then, if it was not for the package of sugar-mints lying next to her bed. The note attached read: "Hope you have a sweet tooth. ER." |
Theme # 92: Chocolate Theme # 92: Chocolate Whatever other differences they might have, all the Slytherins agreed on one thing: Nott was a little too zealous about his new, Ravenclaw girlfriend. [It was not like Nott to really fall in love more than once every gazillion years; but, once he did fall, he fell so hard, you wanted to poke him in the eye and yell "CUT IT OUT ALREADY!"] This moment, for instance, Nott could not stop rambling on about her to Evan, who was dead-sleepy. "I just can't describe her," he gushed. "She's like -" "- Chocolate," Evan said. "Bellatrix Black is like chocolate." |
Theme # 90: Present Theme # 90: Present The duel. “Nice to know you could make it, Black.” Rising from his seat, Evan knew it was twelve. Sharp. For a moment, Bellatrix looked taken aback. But, even in the semi-darkness, he saw her grip on her wand tighten. “Glad to know you had the foolish guts to be present, Rosier.” He could see that look in her eyes, that burning look that made him forget everything else. But not tonight. He couldn’t afford feeling for her, tonight. “We’ll see who’s the fool once this duel is over.” Indifference his expression, Evan took his bow. |
Theme # 89: Past Theme # 89: Past Sometimes, no matter how sweet the memories, you cannot afford to think about the past. And, sometimes, the sweetness itself is the reason you cannot. Think about the past, that is. He could still look so handsome. She was seeing him after three months, today, and only because the Dark Lord's instructions detailed this meeting. Bellatrix Lestrange responded to Evan Rosier's questions, as she laid out the plan. "Do you get that?" she asked, stowing away the parchments. Evan nodded. Five minutes later, he had left. She didn't know when - and if - she would see him again. |
Theme # 75: Yodel Theme # 75: Yodel "Rosier?" He turned, clearly stunned. Bellatrix Black stood behind him, arms folded. The last time he had seen her, she had been walking out of his house after having seen the interior of his bedroom. The memory made his eyes lower themselves, again. What must she think of me. "Yes, Bella?" he said quietly. "Please don't tell me you yodel." He looked up, fast. "What?" "You always find the worst things to shock me with, so this wouldn't really come as a surprise, you telling me you yodel," she explained. And then she threw herself into his arms. |
Theme # 45: Torch Theme # 45: Torch The torches had burnt low, now. It was late into the night, and bitterly cold at that, and everyone was fast asleep in their dormitories. Everyone except Bellatrix Black. She sat in the empty common room, a tall, steaming mug of coffee cupped in her hands. Her cheeks were white with cold, her bare shoulders glacial. And yet she sat, and waited. Waited for Evan and his friends - who had broken curfew and sneaked out of the castle [again] - to be back, so that she could see how he looked with his hair windswept, and snow all over his face. |
Theme # 79: Author’s Choice Theme # 79: Author’s Choice “You there – Black. Wait up. BLACK!” Bellatrix who, despite having heard the shouts, had refused to bother to look around, realized she could no longer ignore Evan Rosier – nearly everyone in the corridor was now staring her way, their eyes expectant. With a grunt, Bellatrix stopped. Evan caught up, for once wearing a highly displeased expression, instead of his usual, I-am-so-cool-I-know-you-want-to-marry-me-this-instant one. “Yes?” she asked curtly. “Are you and Crosket going out?” Evan asked, getting straight to the point. They weren’t. Bellatrix replied with a “yes,” anyway. |
Theme # 76: Zap Theme # 76: Zap The way Evan’s face slackened, you’d think his Christmas dinner had walked out on him. Or his three-storey mansion had disapparated to North of God-knows-where with a tiny, zapping noise. “What the heck are you dating him for?” Evan asked scathingly, while the cogwheels in his mind went whirl-whirl-whirl in all directions, as they churned forth plans to get rid of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ravenclaw. “What’s there in that oaf, anyway?” “The courage to let me know he loves me, unlike some other people,” Bellatrix answered, her voice haughty. |
Theme # 68: Roar Theme # 68: Roar “Evan –” “NO!” Evan roared. Bellatrix took a shaken step back, almost as if afraid. – Afraid of Evan Rosier. “Don’t you get what those people can do, Bella?” he was now saying, the fury draining off like water from a cracked pipe. “How can you just tell the Dark Lord you want to join this expedition? You’re sixteen, not –” “Evan, please,” she said desperately. “You needn’t worr – Evan – oh, God, Evan, we were over so long ago. Stop making me think you still CARE.” Tears of anger leaking down her cheeks, she stormed off, leaving a shocked Evan behind. |
Thheme # 50: Boggart Theme # 50: Boggart Evening. Rain. Party in the common room. All reasons to enjoy herself. Which Bellatrix Black was not. Enjoying herself, I mean. Because Diana sat next to her, a glass of juice in her hands, and never-ending praises of the oh-so-NOT-handsome Evan Rosier on her lips. Never-ending praises Bellatrix was now thoroughly tired of, that is. So when Diana went, “But he is so cute, Bell. Why don’t you like him?” Bellatrix could not help saying, most dispassionately: “Because he's what my boggart looks like when I am through with it, that’s why.” |
Theme # 23: Telescope Theme # 23: Telescope The new shop that had sprouted up in Diagon Alley was a delight for a lot of the kids that flocked to the place. It offered all sorts of curious services, a lot of which were the result of very simple, in-daily-use charms that you wouldn't have thought of using the way the shop used them. It was one of the first places the twelve year old Bellatrix visited, that summer. Reason? To avail the nifty, “get-your–initials–engraved–in–your-belongings” offer, and have her huge, new telescope marked with a B and an R. |
Theme # 65: Ooze Theme # 65: Ooze “WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO MY ROBES, YOU FOOLS?” The entire class looked up to see Bellatrix Black shouting her head off at the pair of Evan Rosier and Avery Regent, both of whom had just watched their cauldrons burst into flames [again], and cause a sticky, greenish substance to ooze down the stone floor of the classroom – and across the hem of Bellatrix Black’s spotless robes. “You wait till the Professor comes back,” Bellatrix screamed. “If I don’t have both of you thrown out of the classroom for this –” Yawning widely, Evan left. Avery sniggered, following suit. |
Theme # 97: Dictionary Theme # 97: Dictionary “Rosier, stop it!” “But, Black, I’m telling you the truth,” Evan said mischievously. He loved it when he said something that completely got to her, and made her mad enough to shout at him when he knew she wanted to laugh, or roll her eyes, or stick his tongue out at him, the way she sometimes stuck it out at Diana. “GO AWAY.” “But my mother really likes think you’d make a wonderful wife for me,” Evan insisted. A second later he was ducking, as the fattest dictionary he had ever seen was hurled his way, and hard. |
Theme # 52: Bore Theme # 52: Bore THWACK. Evan Rosier wiped snow off his face, grinning up at Nott. "I wonder why I see you upside-down," he said, laughing as Nott whacked another snowball into his face. "Come on, Evan, it's going to be fun," Nott insisted, trying to get him to join their [ferocious] snowball fight. Evan shook his head, as if bored by the prospect, turning to bury his face in the whitish snow. Which, for some reason, refused to feel cold. Maybe because he was thinking of fires, and roasted turkey, and how similar the scents of chocolate and Bellatrix Black were. |
Theme # 44: Ford Anglia Theme # 44: Ford Anglia For as long as she could remember, Bellatrix had hated the entrance to the Grand Cloth Market. Other wizards or witches might not notice the muggles milling outside it; or the broken Ford Anglia standing a little way off; or the idiocy of everyone who didn't realize that people disappeared into a brick wall, under their very noses. Bellatrix noticed. She noticed the muggles, and their folly, and the Ford Anglia, and she hated it. All of it. The only thing that made the entry into her favourite cloth market a little more bearable was thinking. Of Evan Rosier. |
Theme # 71: Untie Theme # 71: Untie He could not believe this. Detention. Detention, at six in the evening, when ALL OF HOGWARTS WAS WATCHING THE FINAL MATCH BETWEEN SLYTHERIN AND RAVENCLAW. Evan Rosier sweated as he untied the many rolls of parchments scattered throughout the broom cupboard, cursing luxuriously under his breath. "ROSIER!" He looked up, wiping sweat off his brow as he exited the once-cramped-with-tied-up-rolls-of-parchment broom cupboard, which was now completely orderly, with the rolls untied, and the parchments flattened, and stacked, one over the other, in big, spacious boxes. - Only to see Bellatrix Black running towards him. |
Theme # 60: Joke Theme # 60: Joke Yes. Bellatrix Black was running towards him, her wild cascade of hair loose and flying everywhere. All over her face, anyway. Impulsively, Evan took a step backwards. What was this, some sort of scary joke? Sure, she looked good, but this - this was NOT good. At all. He knew she was mad, really mad, that he had gotten himself banned from the last match, THE match, of the season, but he hadn't really considered the possibility that she might come to attack him, first thing after the match was over. "Black, what are you doing?" he asked, eyes wide. |
Theme # 63: Mooch Theme # 63: Mooch Two things were clear: He was a useless moocher - as she had so strongly let him know on hearing he wouldn't be playing today - who [according to Bellatrix] did nothing except take credit for the rest of the team's hard work. She was either extremely excited, or extremely angry. - Or both. But when Bellatrix Black spoke, she said what Evan Rosier had not at all expected. [Maybe because he had been too busy contemplating all the wild things she could do to him, like push him off the edge of the Astronomy Tower.] "ROSIER, WE WON THE CUP." |
Theme # 62: Lope Theme # 62: Lope The first thing that floated - in a strange, fluffy, Merlin-this-is-awesome sort of way - into his mind, then, was this: Eat her face. The second was: Must. Eat. Face. Bellatrix slowed down, falling into a lope before coming to a halt - incidentally, a good distance away from him. "We won!" she repeated, her coal-like eyes [darn, why were they so enticing?] even huger than usual, the beads of sweat shining across her forehead symbolic of the tough and heated match she was just returning from. "Err - that's good-?" Evan attempted. Bellatrix gave him a look. "Idiot." |
Theme # 48: Leprechaun Theme # 48: Leprechaun Must. Eat. Face. Okay, so maybe she had just called him an idiot. But did that really matter, especially when his mind kept going Eat it - Eat it - Eat it? "Um, Black?" She looked at him, eyebrow raised, as if he was something insistent upon sticking to the sole of her shoe. Or Leprechaun gold, which she loathed since the day he'd slipped some of it into her handbag. "Yes?" "We won. Isn't that great?" "I'm glad because we won, and no one's going to thank you for it," Bellatrix huffed. "Can I eat your face?" |
Theme # 87: Plaid Theme # 87: Plaid "WHAT did you say?" "Nothing," Evan said. "No - Black - you mishear - OUUCCHHH." Who said Bellatrix Black hated muggle ways of tackling life? Because, wand completely forgotten, she had just stuck her fist into his face. Hard. "It's nothing serious, Mr. Rosier. I've had to pull you in for a lot worse, you know." Sitting on a bed in the hospital wing, Evan let the matron ramble on as she dabbed his eye with something that felt like thick plaid, and smelled like a herb that was most likely inedible. "How much longer?" he asked, groaning. The matron sighed. |
Theme # 59: Ignore Theme # 59: Ignore Event: Being hit in the face by a crazy, black haired second year. Deduction: Her hands might look all soft and creamy, but they could definitely be hard as rocks [or stones, or boulders, or -] when something incurred her Majesty's displeasure. Moral: Never say something you shouldn't be saying, in front of Bellatrix Black. What to do next: Ignore her. Consequence: Be ignored in return. - Which, as Evan Rosier was all too well aware, he could not, would never be able to, handle. Being punched in the face was better. At least he got to feel her fist. |
Theme # 49: Yule Ball Theme # 49: Yule Ball "Yule? Why are we having a Yule Ball, instead of the annual ball, this year?" "Miss Black, if you will kindly stop interrupting me every two seconds, I will be more than happy to explain why -" the clearly frustrated Professor began, but her words were drowned as loud laughter erupted from the far side of the classroom. "Yes, professor, why are we having a Yule ball, instead of the annual ball, this year?" Evan Rosier was saying, his feminine tones clearly a mock imitation of Bellatrix's. Second later, Bellatrix had picked up her chair, and hurled it his way. |
Theme # 78: Author's Choice Theme # 78: Author's Choice Milk. It was milk-white, the gown that flowed down her legs, down to the tip of her glassy, milk-white heels. Evan Rosier felt his breathing complicate itself in strange ways as he saw her, climbing down the stairs that led to the Great Hall's grand entrance. Black. She always wore black. Black was Bellatrix, her identity, her custom. And seeing her like this, for the first time in so pure a colour, he could not help starting, could not help being unable to look away. Spellbound, he held out his hand. Without a word, Bellatrix took it. |
Theme # 67: Quell Theme # 67: Quell She had that flowing, black hair that dreams are made of, where silk and glitter and velvet and shine seem to blend together in a way that makes everything else eternally unremembered. She had those full, red lips that reminded him of black – yes, black, not red – roses; secured, with love, within the very perfumed leaves of a very perfumed book. And she had those eyes, those burning, coal-like, forever-fiery, almond-shaped eyes that spoke of beauty, and of passion. But none of this quelled, could ever quell, his thirst for her. It only made it more powerful. |
Theme # 61: Kiss Theme # 61: Kiss There was music in the air. "I - I've never seen you wear white before," he was saying gently, one arm around her waist. She looked up at him, her eyes expectant. Of what? Evan's arm, the one around her waist, nearly trembled, seeing that burning look in her eyes, that burning look that was so expectant, tonight. "Evan?" she said quietly. - He knew the question in her voice. "I love you. Bellatrix, I love you." And then his arms did tremble, tremble as he wrapped them around her, and kissed her like he had never kissed anyone before. |
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