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she wears the night like a mantle of MYSTERY, its colors stolen from crow feathers and OBSIDIAN .
in sweet solitude of mind , she listened to wind secrets &&. echoes of distant star songs .
drinking deeply of moonlight magic and the rich golden hum from the heart of the universe, she finds wings and draws strength in the cocoon of VELVET DARKNESS.
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๐๐๐๐ : Felice Lestrange
๐๐๐ : 15 - 25
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ : pureblood
๐๐๐๐๐ : Slytherin
๐๐๐๐ : Walnut wood, rougarou hair core, 12 ยฝ", reasonably supple flexibility
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : none
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ : loneliness โ when presented, the boggart obscures her surroundings in darkness
1980 โ 1981 // ๐ข๐ค๐ฃ๐จ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐จ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ค๐ง๐ฃ, ๐ฉ๐๐๐ฎ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฉ๐๐.
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โ โ As the snow fell down to thicken the white layer that was already covering the grounds of Lestrange Manor, Felice was brought into the world. She had been quiet, or so she had been told โ not a cry that had come from her mouth, not even when Bellatrix had refused to hold her.
โ โ It was only when she was alone in her crib, located in a dark, mostly-empty room when the gentle cries had eventually left her, yearning for her motherโs breast and affection โ yet it had been the house elf that had answered her pleading, bringing her warm milk and staying with the child until she had fallen asleep.
โ โ And that is how it had been. Feliceโs arrival wasnโt something that had been celebrated within the family โ she was bred out of obligation and kept for status.
โ โ During her first year Felice spent most days in her room, occasionally visited and taken out by Rodolphus whom had been more keen to show his daughter some sort of affection than Bellatrix ever was. That didnโt last for long, however, because Voldemortโs fall from glory had caused her parents to spiral downwards. A few months before Felice would have her first birthday, her parents were captured and sent to Azkaban, which left Felice in the hands of the Malfoys.
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1987 โ 1991 // ๐๐ฉโ๐จ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐๐๐ช๐ก๐ฉ ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐ ๐ข๐ฎ ๐ข๐ค๐ฉ๐๐๐งโ๐จ ๐๐ฎ๐๐จ.
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โ โ She hadnโt understood where her parents were until she was around the age of seven. As any child would, she continued asking, prodding, begging for some sort of an explanation. The child wasnโt stupid enough to believe that her raven-black curls had come from the light-haired Malfoys. Even as a child Felice had been sharp, something Narcissa couldnโt fight much longer; the woman tried her best to explain that Felice's parents were gone and might never come back. That it was for the best, and that she would try her hardest to raise the girl with as much love she could offer. And that she had; Narcissa had been the closest to a mother figure Felice has ever had. Yet it was the disdain on Lucius face and the everlasting, jealous taunting of her cousin that caused the girl to isolate herself, spending most of her time in her room โ like she had done her entire life.
โ โ Felice grew up fast ever since she had received that little bit of information about her parents. She was a mere child, but the confession had impacted her in a way that she couldn't possibly ignore. It made her wonder what kind of bad things they had done, and whether or not that made her bad, too. As she grew older, the questions morphed into an obsession. Once she found out the reason why her parents had been taken from her, her world had changed drastically. She was eleven when she discovered some old articles from the Daily Prophet. Narcissa had refused to tell her that one detail, and so Felice had decided to look it up herself. Not just her parents, but her uncle too had tortured two people into madness. Death Eaters was what the news outlets had called them โ another unfamiliar term to her, one that again had her demanding answers from the Malfoys. This time it wasnโt something they would be able to keep from her, they knew, for she would attend Hogwarts very soon and the information would come to her knowledge sooner or later.
โ โ And so they had explained. Who her parents were, who their Lord had been, what cause they'd fought for. Felice took this information and stored it away some place secure, still much too young to cope with that information at all.
โ โ Not long after her recent discovery, Felice attended her first year at Hogwarts. At once she was known as the daughter of โthose Death Eatersโ, causing her to be just as alone as she had been at home. Her cousin and she hadnโt had the best relationship โ naturally, Draco hadnโt been too happy with the fact that his motherโs attention was now divided between the two โ ; the pair fought often, yet at school they stuck together, for they both werenโt too keen on the idea of trusting others. So despite their constant bickering, they were all the other had.
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1995 โ present // ๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐ค๐ก๐๐ ( ๐ฉ๐ค ๐๐ฃ๐จ๐๐ฃ๐๐ฉ๐ฎ ).
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โ โ Felice was a teenager when her parents were broken out of Azkaban.
It had taken her years to come to peace with the fact that she would most likely never get to know them; she wasnโt quite sure if she even wanted to after learning more about the kind of people they were. In fact, she had been telling herself that they were dead โ it was easier to believe this, than it was to think of them imprisoned, driven mad, gone because they had chosen their Dark Lord over their own daughter.
โ โ She was angry โ it was because of them that most people avoided her, stared at her, judged her.
โ โ Both she and Draco were summoned home over the weekend by Narcissa and Lucius. She hadnโt known the reason for it would risk being leaked, but when the young Lestrange got home and heard that her parents would be arriving any minute, she hadn't reacted much at all. What meaning did the word parents hold if they had never been in her life to begin with?
โ โ And then the moment had come. It had been an overwhelming one โ all the Death Eaters that had been broken out apparated to Malfoy Manor, and so did the Dark Lord. She had heard of him, but had never seen him. Felice had been frozen with fear that first time she had seen Voldemort; it'd felt as if his mere presence corrupted her very soul, no matter how fragmented it already had been. And then her parents appeared. Bellatrix had hardly given her a look before heading straight for Voldemort; it was Rodolphus that had given her recognition, holding her into his thin, brittle arms. He had felt more like a stranger than her father.
โ โ It was that day that Felice had attended her first Death Eater meeting, despite not carrying the Mark yet. Not once had she thought that she would end up like she did, surrounded by the most-feared ones in the entire Wizarding World. She and Draco had sat side by side, squeezing each otherโs hands beneath the tabletop. Both terrified, yet neither of them had a choice โ this is what their life was going to be like. It was in that moment when Felice had understood.
โ โ After meeting her parents for the first time in her life she knew that she wasnโt born to be loved; she was born to be right there, following into their footsteps until she, too, became a worthy Death Eater.
โ โ โ โ โ โ And so she did.
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โ โ Feliceโs character couldโve developed in many different ways, but in the end, it had been a bad one. Being raised without parents had been hard on her, considering that she'd quickly figured out that her parents were not there. It left her with a lack of trust at a young age. She only found out what had happened because she had asked. If her own parents wouldnโt even fight for her, then who would? They had chosen to protect their Lord, after all.
โ โ She had learned to fare on her own when other children learned how to ride a bike, yet it was something she had grown accustomed to and even preferred over having company. Because she had stuck with Draco for the majority of her first few years at Hogwarts, Felice is quite used to having very few people close to her; she is scared to let anyone else in, for she canโt bear the heartbreak of being left behind all over again. This, however, makes her a valuable friend โ if Felice holds you dear, it means you mean the world to her. She trusts you with her entire heart, but once broken, sheโd unleash hell on you. The only way she copes is by turning hurt and sadness into anger, with which she has no problem to express. Sheโll gladly show you that youโre dead to her and move on with her life, but thatโs her facade โ on the inside her heart has gained another scar, and another reason to not to trust.
โ โ Despite the lack of love and care coming from her parents, Felice still feels a persistent need to prove her worth and make them proud. She is desperate to be someoneโs daughter and craves to hear an I love you โ which is why she accepted her fate as Death Eater rather easily. There is nothing in the world that would make her parents more proud than to see her serve their Lord โ and do it well.
โ โ And just like that her soul got signed away. It had made her colder, harder, sure; her strive towards perfection certainly has no limits. Yet her thoughts had only ever been colored black and white, with secrets painted gray; a part of her is still hesitant and scared, desperate for a normal life. The infinite struggle of duality within her mind causes Felice to have bad coping mechanisms, numbing the never-ending fear, anger and doubt she feels. She has no clue who she is ( or where to look for it ), because all her life she morphed and shaped a new identity according to her surroundings โ the cold, empty girl with a lust for blood to blend in with the death eaters and to please her family, or the perfectly content, condescending pureblood with not a care in the world at school. If one lies for too long, they believe the lie, and it has been a long time since Felice has seen her own face beneath all the masks she carries.
โ โ Her problematic past and present is most often projected towards her surroundings. She shuts people out and expresses her frustration frequently, causing her to get into detention rather often. At Hogwarts she is quite the troublemaker, most often with ( or against ) Draco. Itโs easier for her to build strong, bullet-proof walls around herself and chase away anyone who threatens to get too close. She feels safest that way; shutting out her feelings, living the days numb and full of mischief. Youโll catch her picking fights a lot, as Felice has no idea when she should keep her mouth shut. She has a tendency to speak before she thinks, which often times might ( or might not be ) by accident.
โ โ When it comes to relationships she gets squeamish. The mere thought of loving someone else, having that vulnerability and carrying that liability, scares her off. Not only that, but she doesnโt have much faith in the concept. How could she, if she couldnโt even give you the sole definition of love?
โ โ But naturally, Felice occasionally craves the need to have a pair of arms around her, to have someone lie to her and tell her it's going to be okay. During those moments sheโll remind herself that itโs a weakness โ a risk, certainly not a necessity. Felice keeps it limited to physical contact as only that would temporarily kill the loneliness sheโd sometimes feel.
โ โ All in all, Felice is a handful; her skin is thick and her mind is stubborn, but her heart holds love. Itโs cracked and rough at the edges, a little damaged and carefully hidden away, one day to be mended by someone whose demons dance well with her own.
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CHAPTER I // the dark mark
โ โ The facts had always seemed like a distant dream.
โ โ The kind of dream that feels vivid; the kind that you could always summon back into your imagination, relive it even when youโre wide awake.
โ โ And it had been like that. Felice would often think about it. Try to imagine it, to feel it.โ But when she awoke on the day that this dream was supposed to become a reality, Felice realized sheโs had it all wrong.
โ โ She didnโt feel like a new, stronger self once her feet had landed onto the creaky floor beside her bed. In fact, it had taken her a solid hour to muster the courage to do so. She didnโt feel excited; instead she felt a hollow, yet heavy pressure within her chest.
โ โ It was all wrong โ it wasnโt supposed to be like this. Today was the day that she would belong at last. But then why did it feel like she was merely getting ready to dig her own grave? Why did it feel like a dreadful nightmare instead of a promised dream?
โ โ Her slender fingers brushed over the porcelain, spotless skin of her lower arm. Skin as white as snow, soon to be covered with a symbol of death. Decay. Fear.
โ โ Onyx eyes wandered, finding them staring back at her in the mirror. She studied her reflection, knowing very well it was the last time that she would see this version of herself. Innocent still, hands as yet clean of blood and eyes weakly lit by a shimmer of youth, even though that light had begun to dim a while ago. She wasnโt who she wanted to be, but she knew that today would eliminate any chances at all to feel ... normal. Like a child, she supposed, one that was excited about presents and snowball fights. Yule had been celebrated a week ago, even though her family never took much interest in such festivities. The closest thing to a celebration she could remember was hanging stockings on the fireplace with Draco back when they were children. It was a fading memory, but she could recall that they had been filled with candy the next morning, courtesy of the house elves ( or Narcissa, she wasn't quite sure ). Nevertheless, Lucius had punished the house elves for it and so it had been the first, but last year she got to have a taste of what it was like. Just being ordinary. Childish.
โ โ The girl straightened her back a little, releasing an exhale. It would do no good to dwell on such things.
โ โ A knock on the door startled her, interrupting the endless stream of thoughts. With her heart pounding in her throat still, Felice ordered them to come in. One glance at the mirror showed her it was the elf, carrying a hairbrush and some fresh clothes in her tiny, brittle arms. Picked by her mother, no doubt. Canโt have her daughter look nothing but perfect when sheโd be given the time of day by the Dark Lord.
โ โ It was no secret that house elves were looked down upon in their community; treated like slaves, punished for the slightest mistakes, never being acknowledged as a living being. And Felice wouldnโt either, if it hadnโt been the elves that had kept her company during her childhood. It was pathetic, really, for the elves had pretty much raised her for her first years on earth. Had given her the bottle, bathed her. Even though she wanted to, had tried to, she couldnโt resent them.
โ โ โYou can put that down on the bed,โ Felice told her. The elf obediently waddled over to the bed and Felice sat down in front of her vanity, releasing her black, messy curls from the ribbon; the tangled locks came cascading down her back, past her shoulder blades. The only good thing she had inherited from her mother.
โ โ It wasnโt long before she felt the teeth of the brush tugging at her hair. As the elf brushed it smooth Felice merely stared into her own eyes, void of anything. A look she would probably have to see and feel for the remainder of her life after today โ an ever-growing emptiness. Something all death eaters had in common. Either that, or they were mad. She supposed her parents were one and the other; her father collected, cold, seemingly heartless. Her mother delusional, twisted, insane. What path would she walk?
โ โ โ โ โ โ Perhaps a little bit of both.
โ โ โYou will be all right.โ The small, high-pitched voice broke the silence, once again startling Felice a little. She looked at the servant through the mirror and found big, shiny eyes looking back at her, filled with kindness. Unafraid to show the one thing Felice's family hadnโt managed to destroy. How that kindness had preserved through it all, Felice did not know.
โ โ The young Lestrange offered her a faint smile but did not answer her words of comfort, knowing that the elf couldnโt be further away from the truth.
The creature continued to brush her hair in silence. Once they had been untangled and treated, Felice's curls delicately draped down her back, tamed once more.
โ โ A brief silence fell before the girl broke it at last. "Thank you. You can go now," she quietly said. The elf inclined her head and left the room, leaving Felice alone with her thoughts once more.
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โ โ Her black cloak floated behind her as the raven-haired entered the dining hall. It was almost time; most of her family had gathered already, come together at Malfoy manor to witness her marking. Eyes fell upon her after she made her entrance. Felice hadnโt shown her face in days to the majority of people present, so she was quite sure that they were all stunned to see her looking better than usual. A bit of makeup had given her face some of the color it had desperately needed, hiding the dark, bruise-like circles that were present beneath her eyes. She wore a simple, black dress, moderate but flattering, along with her usual cloak. Her hair hung in curls down her back, most of it pinned back except for some loose strands that framed her face.
โ โ Contrary to this morning it did feel like a dream. She walked without thinking. Every movement, every action was automatic and her thoughts were silent for once, fearful instinct shutting them down. The Dark Lord apparated not soon after her arrival. Everyone, including Felice herself, dipped their chins in greetings and respect.
โ โ โToday we welcome a new member,โ he started, pausing to let his crimson, snake-like eyes settle on her. Felice felt the heaviness of his stare, lifting her head to daringly meet it. She hardly noticed that she was holding her breath during the agonizing, long seconds before Voldemort averted his gaze, letting it wander around the crowd before finding hers yet again.โ โFelice Lestrange. I hope youโll be as much of use to me as your parents are.โ Felice distantly registered the soft squeal her mother responded with. She shut her out, nodding once. He had hit the nail on the head. Be like your parents, because that was what was expected of her, nothing less, always more. The Dark Lord held out his hand, long, bony fingers reaching out to her. โCome, my child.โ
โ โ Her feet walked her forward and her arm mindlessly extended, placing itself in his grip. It painfully tightened at once. Felice stood frozen with fear as the dull pain awoke her silent mind โ the shackled thoughts broke free, flooding her consciousness. What if she cried? What if she screamed? She couldnโt afford to show any weaknesses. She could not. Her breath gradually fastened and she knew it was the rise of a panic attack. Not now. Not now. She lowered her eyes, fixating her gaze on a tiny speck on the tiles beneath her. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold.
โ โ She focused on her auditory senses โ the rain hitting against the windows. Soft; it wasnโt pouring, but it was getting there. It had been raining for days, now.
โ โ Proceeding with grounding herself, she shifted her focus towards the faint smell of burning wood. The fireplace was lit, protecting the manor from the freezing cold outside. She focused herself on the crackling she heard, only distantly hearing Voldemort speak about her obligations sheโll have once she'd be marked.
โ โ The rain and crackling of the fireplace relaxed her body, tense shoulders lowering. What can I feel?
โ โ The tight grip around her wrist. Not comforting, but the only thing she could pin her focus on. Nails digging into her arm, leaving crescent marks behind.
โ โ Felice felt her heartbeat slow and her breathing becoming steadier again. Good. She was back in control. She couldnโt enjoy her victory for long, however, because Voldemortโs grip around her arm wasnโt her primary sensation any longer; instead it was the tip of his wand poking against her skin. Oh, fuck. His speech had gone past her entirely and she hadnโt realized that he was done already.
โ โ Desperately using the last few seconds to brace herself, Felice swallowed, biting down on her tongue. She inhaled.
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โ โ โ โ โ โ โMorsmordre!โ
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โ โ Fire. Thatโs what it felt like. Fire shooting through her arm, her veins, her bones. Her knees buckled and she clenched her teeth to prevent a scream for slipping past her lips. She tried, but she couldnโt look away from the pitch-black ink seeping into her skin, curling and spreading and slowly taking shape of a snake, a skull. Cold sweat coated her forehead, both her hands clenched into tight fists. She exhaled shakily, tears burning her eyes. The agonizing pain merely grew and grew as the mark developed, the serpent slithering as if it were alive; the girl began to pant quietly, puffing out breaths as a scream lingered in her throat. She wasnโt weak. She wasnโt weak. She. Wasnโt. Weak.
โ โ Little droplets of blood emerged from beneath the Lordโs nails; with her skin broken at last she had another pain she could focus on. Yet it was not enough as the burning ink spread and the pain intensified, scorching her skin from the inside out. The welling tears blurred her vision and the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue โ she had bit too hard, she could not do it; she had to cry, to scream, to do anything.
โ โ And then it ended.
โ โ At last, just like that. The pain died down, leaving sharp stings behind โ hot embers of the fire she had felt moments before. She stared down at her arm, taking in the dark mark. It was black as night. It was beautiful like death was beautiful; a girl had died and a stranger had risen from her ashes. Her breaths came out with trembles.
โ โ As Voldemort released his grip on Felice's arm, it fell by her side like a dead weight.