𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘂𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻

Chapter 16: Fissures

The silence between them stretched too long.

Vivienne watched Bellatrix — shoulders stiff, eyes staring into the fire like it might burn away everything she'd just felt.

Then, without warning, Bellatrix stood.

Fast. Abrupt. The kind of movement born of instinct — fight, not flight.

"You planned this," she snapped. "From the moment you sent that message. From the moment you stepped back into my head."

Vivienne didn't move. "I planned to reach you. The rest happened because you let it."

Bellatrix paced, hair wild, her breath sharp and uneven. "You think you're so clever. So composed. Sitting there like some martyr with your truths and your clean hands."

Vivienne's tone was even. "My hands are far from clean, Bella. You saw to that."

Bellatrix turned on her, eyes flashing. "Don't you dare pretend you're better than me."

"I'm not," Vivienne said. "That's what makes me dangerous."

Bellatrix froze.

Her mask was crumbling — and she knew it.

And she hated it.

"Is this what you do now?" she spat. "Whisper pretty words and act cold until I crumble? Tell me the past meant something while you sharpen your knife behind your back?"

Vivienne stood now, facing her without fear. "I didn't need to bring a knife. You already bled for me, Bellatrix. You just didn't notice."

Bellatrix flinched.

A raw sound escaped her — half laugh, half sob — and then she turned away, grabbing her wand from the floor.

"This was a mistake," she growled.

Vivienne's voice was quiet. "You felt something."

"I felt cornered."

"No. You felt seen."

Bellatrix's hand trembled at her side. "I don't want to be seen."

Vivienne stepped closer, gently but firmly. "Then run. But you'll never be invisible again. Not to me."

Bellatrix's breath hitched — once. Then she Disapparated with a violent CRACK, leaving behind nothing but a scorch mark and the lingering scent of firewhisky and ash.

Vivienne didn't chase her.

She stood alone in the silence, staring at the space Bellatrix had just vacated.

She whispered to the empty room:

"You're not ready yet.
But you're breaking.
And I'll be here... when the pieces fall."

---

Bellatrix apparated into the Lestrange manor with a scream locked in her throat.

She stormed through the marble corridors like a storm in silk, shoving open doors, knocking over a vase that exploded against the floor. A house elf squeaked and vanished in fear.

She slammed the bedroom door behind her, casting a locking charm so violent it cracked the frame.

Her hands were shaking.

She hated that.

She hated her.

Vivienne.

That name had always tasted like blood in her mouth. Sweet and metallic and dangerous.