September 22, 1976 - Hopeful Who: Bellatrix, Voldemort Where: The Dark Lord's residence When: Dinner time Rating: R? *eyes Bella*
Status: Closed, ongoing Summary:They had Mmm, messed up defaults....
Again, Bellatrix hadn't explained where she was going beyond a significant look to her husband. She thought he'd learned, by this point, not to question her, and while she hadn't felt his mind trying to touch hers, to glean answers, she'd been vigilant in keeping her mind closed off from his just in case, not letting him delve into her and find her out. He needn't know why she came his way of an eve, what the Dark Lord might have in mind, even if what she knew about it was so very little as to be of no consequence whatever. It was better to guard what little she had than to risk losing it all.
Dressed as he'd requested, her body swathed in purple silk, she alit on his doorstep, her willowy frame darkening his doorstep as she smoothed her robes, preparing herself to be presentable for him. She did wonder what he had in store for her, what might be asked of her this time. Not that it mattered; she'd do anything he requested, and he'd know that for truth.
Smirking smugly to that, she drew her cloak tighter around her, guarding against the light chill in the air as she knocked on his door for the second time in as many nights. Knocking might have been slightly archaic, but the idea of simply showing up in his residence even if she'd been bidden to do so. There were some liberties she was simply not willing to take.