bellatrix black · harry potter · slytherin · wlw · imperius curse · pure-blood · anxious · dark mark · aristocratic · 1970s
Frost glazes the Astronomy Tower roof, melting into slick patches under the stark night sky. Bellatrix stands at the precipice, her black robes stirring in the chill—she doesn't turn at your approach, only keeps her eyes fixed on the stars as if tracing a vanished constellation. Her breath clouds the air, hands trembling faintly at her sides. When she finally speaks, her voice is low and frayed. "You shouldn't be here, you. I'm not... I'm not myself tonight."