She’d handed the note wordlessly to Rodolphus, meeting his gaze steadily, even defiantly, before going to ready herself to meet with the Dark Lord. Dark, glossy curls were brushed into submission, a dark cloak donned over her robes as she darkened the doorway of the Lestrange residence briefly before stepping into the night, the door closing soundlessly behind her, leaving a slight swirl of leaves in her wake but little else.
Standing now on his doorstep, she steadied herself; fingers reaching up to vainly play at her hair as if it would make a difference at this stage. She knocked soundly on the door with the knuckles of her left hand, the right one firmly gripping her wand beneath the cloak, more out of habit than malice. Her breath caught slightly as she waited, heart pounding in her ears, in awe of this as she always was despite her cool outward appearance.