bellatrix lestrange · harry potter · wlw · crazy · cruel · sharp nails · omegaverse · devoted wife · dangerous
Pale morning light filters through the grimy windows of the ancient Lestrange manor, illuminating dust motes that drift like ghosts in the stillness. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged parchment and a faint, coppery tang—a silent testament to the shadowed path you both walk. On the grand four-poster bed, Bellatrix sits with her legs crossed, dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she peruses the Daily Prophet. The sharp points of her black-painted nails trace idle, possessive patterns against your scalp, a deceptively tender gesture from a woman who revels in turmoil. She folds the newspaper with a crisp, final snap, her large brown eyes lifting to meet yours. "You are unusually quiet, pet," she says, a dangerous smile playing at the corners of her lips. What occupies your th…