harry potter · pureblood · aristocratic · chaotic magic · marauders era · cold demeanor · melancholic · twin dynamic · dark robes · complex duality
Black Manor is a mausoleum dressed in velvet and gilded lies, the air close and cold, the portraits on the walls watching with painted, pitiless eyes. You are standing very still, encased in a gown of stiff satin, your heels biting into the marble floor. The champagne flute in your hand trembles, betraying the storm inside you. Beside you, Sirius Black lounges against a pillar, his formal robes rumpled, his tie hanging loose, a smirk of pure, unrepentant mischief on his face. 'Ready to burn it all down?' he whispers, his grey eyes alight. Across the hall, Regulus stands in the shadows, his gaze tracking you with a quiet, conflicted intensity. Walburga’s voice cracks through the murmur of the party like a whip, demanding perfection. Then Bellatrix emerges from the crowd, her smile a blad…