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𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚. She remembered telling Narcissa Black that she had somewhere to be.
Through foggy vision and a futile heart, she could feel the grip on her arm. The grip of Bellatrix fuckin' Lestrange.
A dense cloud of black surrounded the area, and it looked like a street full of shops. People were screaming and running, trying to seek shelter.
Then, the Lestrange woman halted, turning around sharply and shaking Scarlet by her arm.
"What do you think you're doing here?" She hissed at her, and lost in thoughts, Scarlet stumbled back. Wanting to be away from Bellatrix. Away from the darkness around her. The woman's rings dug into her skin, and Scarlet wanted to scream. Say something but her voice failed her. Nothing came out.
"What are you doing here?"
Silence followed.
Scarlet did not answer. She was staring at the ground, her vision-obscuring.
"Get out of here," the raven-haired woman hissed in her direction. "GET OUT!"
And then all of a sudden, the ground no longer seemed so far away—as it neared rapidly, and a pair of arms—belonging to Bellatrix standing before her—caught her.
"WAKE UP, WAKE UP! THE FUCK—!"
She woke up with a gasp—much to her dismay—to the slaps she received from Everest Chasseur right on her head.
"You know, if you didn't spend the entire night shagging, you could wake up on time," the brunette was in her robes, an undone green tie hanging by her neck.
"I wasn't shagging anyone," she shot back sternly, sitting up in her bed with wide eyes.
Everest raised a brow and rolled her eyes, as though nothing peculiar was going on. "You spent the entire night, what, just talking?" She mocked, making bunny ears as she spoke the last phrase.
