𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘂𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖: 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧

The room was dimly lit, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight to shut out the silver light of the moon. The air smelled faintly of smoke and something floral — perfume, maybe, worn into the dark wood of the furniture.

It was Bellatrix’s private chamber inside Malfoy Manor, a place no one entered without her permission.

Vivienne sat slumped in a chair, her wrists still bearing angry red marks from the bindings. Across from her stood Narcissa Malfoy, elegant even in her distress, carefully dabbing at a gash on Vivienne’s temple with a cloth soaked in healing potion.

"Hold still," Narcissa muttered, frowning as she worked. "You’re lucky they didn’t kill you on the spot."

From the other side of the room, Bellatrix leaned lazily against a carved dresser, watching the scene with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Why are you wasting your time, Cissy?" Bellatrix drawled, her voice a silk-wrapped dagger. "She's a traitor. A blood-traitor, at that."

Narcissa shot her sister a withering glare. "Because unlike you, Bella, I haven't forgotten how to feel something for people who once mattered."

Bellatrix’s smile twisted into something uglier. "Mattered? Past tense, sister. She made her choice long ago."

Vivienne, silent until now, listened carefully. Their argument was a gift — a rift she might yet exploit.

"And you didn't?" Vivienne said suddenly, her voice hoarse but clear. "We both made choices, Bellatrix. You just never learned to live with yours."

The room went still.

Bellatrix's wand hand twitched, but she said nothing.

Vivienne continued, sensing the shifting tension. "Once, there was loyalty between us. Trust. I never broke it, Bella. You did."

For a moment, Bellatrix seemed almost thrown off-balance, a flicker of the past ghosting across her features. Narcissa stepped back, folding her arms, watching the two women with a calculating look.

Vivienne pressed further, her voice softening, coaxing. "You owe me more than disdain, Bella. You owe me truth. Just as I owe you."

A long silence stretched between them, thick with things unspoken.

Bellatrix finally smirked, an unsettling glint in her eye. "You want truth, darling Vivienne? Then drink with me."

From a nearby tray, she lifted a delicate porcelain teapot and poured two cups, the amber liquid steaming gently. She handed one to Vivienne with a smile that was almost... sweet.

But Vivienne knew that smile too well.

Still, she accepted the cup, her fingers brushing Bellatrix's intentionally, feeling the faint trace of magic thrumming through the china. She hesitated, and Bellatrix’s smile widened — a silent dare.

Vivienne sipped. It was subtle — a hint of bitterness beneath the tea's sweetness — but unmistakable. Veritaserum.

She cursed herself silently but kept her face neutral. Fighting the potion would only arouse suspicion. She would have to choose her words with the utmost care.

Bellatrix set her own untouched cup down and leaned in, her eyes gleaming.

"Now, pet," Bellatrix purred. "Tell me: What does the Order of the Phoenix plan next?"

Vivienne felt the compulsion to speak rise in her throat, but she fought to twist the truth, bending her answers just enough.

"I do not know their full plans," Vivienne said, her voice calm. "I am not among their highest ranks."