Betrayal of the Black

thirty-nine

They hadn't even been officially dating. Suffice to say, she had picked Theo. She hadn't been too sad, but who wouldn't be a little upset when their date turns out to be an arse? Theo had put a stop to her sulking before it could truly begin, and the rest of the night had gone well. She'd ended up telling everyone she went alone, and dominated that lie much to Asen's displeasure.

Across the room, Theo grumbled something under his breath. She rolled her eyes in response to whatever his unintelligible mumbling had been.

"I think I'm going to the wedding. Catch Potter if I can," decided Celestia.

"Because of Krum?" Theo asked.

"No, not just because of Krum. It's got the most positives. You're okay with crashing the wedding, yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, though there was still something off in his tone.

Despite the fact that overthrowing the government was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, she doubted she would actually get to do anything considering most factors were already looked after and the Death Eaters heading to the Ministry were just insurance.

The wedding gave her opportunity to catch Harry, or possibly his friends and family. Something was bound to go wrong, but it was worth a shot. Draco had been selected already to be on the wedding scout, which had been tipping the scale in the wedding's favour from the beginning.

Having come to a decision, she stood from the chaise and made her way over to her bed. She flopped onto it, glancing at the book Theo was reading.

There was a small doodle in the corner of the page. Celestia had always thought he was a good artist, but she hardly saw any of his artworks, if any. She'd assumed he had stopped drawing.

She shoved aside the pens, tabs, and highlighters away and lay down over a part of her bed. She placed her head on his stomach and looked up at him. "Read."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm halfway through the book."

"So? I'll catch on quickly," she said.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long. He admired the woman she was around everyone else, but it occurred to him that when she was like this — draped softly over the bed, head against his stomach, wearing an old tee of his from years ago, he couldn't help but savour the version of her that solely belonged to him.

Returning his attention to his book, he found the sentence he'd finished reading moments earlier and began speaking. When her eyes fluttered closed, he moved a hand and placed it into her hair, playing with it softly as he continued to read, and she began to sleep.

☆

"This is for you," said Bellatrix.

Eyeing the item in her outstretched arm, Celestia replied, "I already have a cloak, but thank you."

If Bellatrix was the kind of person who rolled her eyes, she would have then. "It is not an ordinary cloak."

"That's vague," she muttered. A small realisation came to her. "Do you mean it's a official Death Eater cloak?"

"Yes," answered Bellatrix.

An official Death Eater cloak was usually only ever given to the top followers, closest to the Dark Lord and in his inner circle. It was an ordinary black cloak, but there was a unknown spell bound into it that placed a mask over your face when the hood was up.

She hadn't thought that she would get one. She wasn't one of Voldemort's closest confidants, and compared to the majority, she was young. The masks were almost mostly for anonymity; which would no longer be needed once the Ministry was under their rule.