Book one of two.
Post war.
Odette Elara Viotto can't help but feel foreign in the place she grew up in, and seems to believably lie that she is coping like others around her.
After one dark wizard perishes, another forges- reeking havoc within the...
(!!TW!! This chapter contains mentions of death, abuse, neglect, vulgar language, drug abuse, and more upsetting topics)
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And suddenly, life was not bout living, it was about surviving.
-Unknown author
Odette read over Malfoy's words once, then twice, then thrice— memorising his hand writing, every curve of a 'G', ever cross through a 'T'.
Her gown was stained several earthly colours, brown dirt clung to the fabric, small stones tore at its hems.
The girls fingers clung desperately to the parchment, tear drops now sunk into the paper, leaving small circles of darkened white and running ink.
She read the letter word after word, time and time again as she lay on the cold dingy ground, she didn't even realise her eyes growing heavy until she felt the paper drop from her fingers.
༺⚘༻
Blood streamed from Odette's nose as she recited dark spells after spell on the iron bars keeping her locked away from wherever she was, drops of crimson liquid fell like tear drops onto her once white gown.
None of the spells she attempted melted the bars, broke the bars, or even moved them an inch. Whatever magical enchantments placed on her cell were powerful ones, so powerful not even dark spells could defile then.
The girl heaved a heavy sigh as she slopped down against the grimy wall across from the bars, trying her best to not reread the words engraved in ink on the piece of parchment to her left, she had read it so much she could almost remember it entirely.
Footsteps sounded from the other side of the bars, descending the staircase into the dimly lit dungeons Odette was kept in.
White hair shone like snow under the faint candle light, signifying who it was by the distinct colour.
The Malfoy heir arrived holding a large pile of dark clothing in one hand, the other tucked away into his pocket.
"Clothes," he spoke nonchalantly, tossing the large pile through the gaps in the bars, landing at Odette's feet.
Odette picked them up with hesitation in her hands, examining them: a plain black dress that would hang just above her knees with lace sleeves, a black corset that looked a size too big, torn black tights and scuffed up boots.
The girl raised her eyebrow as she looked over the clothes, causing the boy stood on the other side of the bars scoff.
"They belonged to Bellatrix," he informed. "Our apologies, our wardrobe is slim."
