and a cold blooded killer.

bigail, of the noble pureblooded family of avery. sister to charles avery. twenty years living. loyal to the pack and to the dark lord.
don't cross my path if you're a mudblood - you'll regret it.



"We never let them live it down. Every second we could rub it in their faces we did. In the Great Hall for dinners, in between classes, during classes with notes thrown to them. They hated their lives for a very long time." He grinned, remembering his Quidditch days with fondness. It was definitely something he missed from Hogwarts. "Makes me wish I had seen it, you being all capable and showing those girls who was boss. I bet a lot of girls hated you for taking so much of my attention in those days, but I’m sure the looks and remarks were nothing you couldn’t handle." He chuckled, "Oh yes, and you were always so willing to indulge me whenever a mood hit which was often. When neither of us cared about homework or essays, we always managed to find a new secluded place where no one would bother us. It was my pleasure."


"No certainly not. Maybe my parents thought that marriage would calm me down. That I would suddenly become respectable. They think that because I let them think that. I was always good at hiding the truth from them." He pours into their glasses for two more shots, "I’ve suggested helping him with it, but he still doesn’t trust me on that front since I had got him very drunk when he was fifteen and can’t remember anything of that night. I try and reassure him he didn’t do anything too stupid and was actually quite fun but he won’t be persuaded."

"If we let them live it down, that would have been the most out of character thing we and our housemates would have done. Why let it be forgotten when we could do so much with it?" She chuckled, almost wanting to be back at Hogwarts, to experience the days she so fondly remembered. "It was quite the sight to see. All those looks and remarks were nothing to me. Passed through one ear, floated out the other, not even leaving a mark in its wake. It was either I had tough skin or their name calling could have used some work." Abigail closed her eyes, shaking her head. "And so were you. Was simply returning the favor. The castle was full of stress at every corner, so I needed a little bit of peace from time to time. Be it an empty classroom or out on the grounds or simply in the dormitories. Even in the common room after lights out. Oh, the memories."

"If anything it made you even rowdier. I think we share common thoughts on marriage. Why enjoy one dish when you can have the buffet?" she said before downing the shot.


I don’t think I recall that night. Maybe I was drunk out of my wits as well. What exactly did he do?”

Anonymous asked: dear person I like

Dear Callum,

I’ll make sure to burn this letter after I finish with it. And also a few glasses of whisky will do the trick, too.

I don’t like this. You’re always in my thoughts. Always. I can’t get you out of my head. It’s some sort of terrible little infatuation but I have been feeling this way for quite some time now. Obviously, you view us nothing more than friends. Or that’s just what I gather. I used to hope that we’d be something more, but now it’s dying down a little, and it shot right back up. It’s confusing, almost unfair, because if I go through all this and there’s nothing I’ll get out of it, I’ll just feel stupid. Or at the very least, if you occupy my mind so much, then at least I should occupy at least some little corner in that mind of yours. You have some sort of heart, mine probably shriveled away some time ago. 

They say a girl can dream - I don’t dream often any more, but one of the lingering ones is the chance of you and I being something more.

I shouldn’t get my hopes up.







"It was something I enjoyed for weeks, even months. They may have all hated me by then, but I didn’t really care." He smirked, "I must have missed that. I can imagine it, them all diving for it, fighting and pulling out hair over it. But I doubt any of them were stronger than you and could win it from you. And luckily none of them had hurt my scarf. I remember hardly feeling any tension that night. And I remember you being just if not more happy than I was. Definitely good times. Those years at Hogwarts, the best."


"Though not my choice really, but saying no to mine or Bellatrix’s parents would have been our death. I see Callum sometimes, though I think you have a higher tolerance than he does." He clinked his with hers and threw the drink back easily.

"It was something I think the whole house made sure to smother in their faces for the days and weeks to come after. Whenever they’d pass by our table, we’d sneer and jeer at them - it was fun." She shook her head, letting the reminiscent memories take over. "One of them dived right in, the other pulled her hair and got her out of the way, and another tackled the hair puller. I simply had to pull it out of her grasp, and walk away. They’d be crazy if they thought they’d go against me for the scarf, though I got plenty snide looks. Like I cared," Abigail snorted. "Happy was what I was as well, Rodolphus. Very happy. I could just let loose, and lose myself to you. Whether it was some heartache or stress due to studies, I knew I could count on you for some much needed solace."


"Obviously. I came to know you well back there in the castle, and I knew you weren’t one for this marriage business. Never seemed like it. I think you were always just meant to roam around, like before." She knocks back the drink just as easily as he does, placing the shot glass down, fingering the rim, then looking up at him. "Callum… Oh, there’s no doubt I’ve got a higher tolerance than him. He comes up to you and you’d expect him to be some drinker, but he’s not. I know it for a fact, and it’s quite amusing."


Throw all the punches and claws you want, but nothing will damage this perfect face. Even covered in blood it looks ten times better than everyone elses. 

Or maybe they’re both the same size. Ten stories high and unable to knock down.  We should, i’m sure if we all put our heads together we will come up with a fantastic award. 


I’m not talking about muggle fighting, silly. I was thinking more along the lines of spells, but now you’ve got me thinking about how good it would be to scrape that beautiful face with these killer nails. 

And constantly growing. Your ego has inflated drastically, throughout the years at Hogwarts and still now, I am confident that it is still growing and growing. We’re brilliant, the three of us. I want it to be an award I’ll enjoy and remember - and possibly be the thing I remind you about on your deathbed, something to prove that I did, in fact, beat you at drinking.




"Always gloating that they were better, well before the match. And finally when the match came they thought they would have victory only to be let down and utterly destroyed. I had quite the fan base of girls back then. I bet if you threw a piece of my hair in a circle of them, they would have fought over it. True, only one was good enough for me that night. A few sore limbs wasn’t about to stop me from getting what I wanted that night."


"We’ve both been quite busy since our days at Hogwarts." He pours a few shots in some glasses, setting them in front of them, picking on up and holding it in the air. "Cheers."

"Good on you, to put those pompous prats in their place." She chuckled. "I remember once, I was carrying something of yours and I dropped it in the common room - you should have seen how they clamored for it! I wretched it back from them, though. No way was I going to let them keep your scarf. I’m glad to know I did justice easing you up a little and helping ease those sore limbs of yours, back there. Like others nights that we spent together. Good times, those were, eh, Rod?"


"Very busy. We’ve gone to different paths - you into marriage, me with the pack. Though I always relish in these little meetings," she took one of the shot glasses from the table, lifting it to clink with Rodolphus’, smiling. "Cheers."



"I wasn’t about to let Gryffindor beat us. Had to knock them down a few notches they were too high and mighty. They never saw me coming. My dear, there was nothing disappointing about your performance. They certainly made things bearable."


"We’ll see about that." He chuckles, "How about a few shots?"

"They’re always strung up too high, only to be let down by our house. It was a great game - I remember cheering for you from the stands, and around me were some goo-goo eyed girls drooling over you and your Quidditch playing glory. But I knew I had you for the night - you were booked for me. I remember being gentle on you at first, since you were sore and all. But you had none of it and insisted for me to pick it up."


"Shots? I’m in. Bring them over, Rod. We’re well due for some catching up, dearest."

To Friends and Firewhiskey | Abicinda


In first year, Lucinda hadn’t like Hogsmeade very much. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as she had been expecting it to be, and she had been let down. Now, however, as the years passed by, the Slytherin found herself falling in love with it. Maybe it was the reminiscence that came along with it now, seeing as it was her last year at Hogwarts. She didn’t know what she wanted after graduation, no set plan in motion, but she knew she wouldn’t be around Hogsmeade much if at all.

It made her want to enjoy the humbleness of it whilst she still could, really.

One of the places in the village was The Three Broomsticks, and she had a majority of her memories there. It was her place of choice to get a nice drink, and she felt like it would be a nice start to the weekend to knock some Firewhiskey back — get a bit pleasantly tipsy while her mother wasn’t there over her head to reprimand her for it. When she was tipsy, Lucinda was much easier for people to talk to. The protective layer she carried became a bit softer around the edges for her, and she smiled more, was more friendly. It was easier to be open then.

That was how she found herself at her favourite two-chaired table next to the window, nursing a bottle of amber liquid and drinking it slowly, letting it wash down her throat and burn deliciously. She was lost in watching people, examining friendships of the sort she hadn’t allowed herself to make all the while she was too busy looking down on people from where her nose was in the air. She sighed, taking a larger gulp and letting her eyelids flutter shut. She didn’t open them until she heard someone approach and her head snapped up so that her hazel eyes fixed on the person standing before her.

Surprisingly, her lips curved up into one of her rare completely sincere smiles as she inclined her head towards the woman before her. “Abigail Avery,” she said, her tone making a statement, “Long time.”

"Indeed, it has been a while." Abigail mirrored the other girl’s smile, sauntering over to where Lucinda sat. She saw that she was drawing some lingering, almost wandering looks from nearby tables and it made her laugh. Sweet little third years on a sweet little ‘date’ - and now their eyes were glued to her. It was adorable.

Lucinda was one of Abigail’s only friends - she always knew there was something so great about the girl. She was pretty, she had snark, with some work, she could be bent into a good fighter - she would be a great addition to the death eater alliance, even to the pack. But Abigail knew she had to play her cards right, not to drown Lucinda in details just yet, but persuade her enough to come over to their cause.

"My, my. Lucy Lu is drinking, how quaint," she chuckled, taking the seat opposite of the student, folding her hands and putting them on the wooden table, examining the drink that Lucinda was currently enjoying. "Nobody hear with you? I was surprised to see you drinking alone, or is your date fetching you something?" Abigail inquired, not only to figure out if it was safe to talk and they could have a private conversation, but she was genuinely curious as to why the lovely lady was alone. When she was at Hogwarts, she always went with some housemates or a boy on her arm, playing some drinking games and becoming the wild child, following her friends’ footsteps.

✖ a fear my character has in dealing with yours

abigail knew what bellatrix was capable of. she could snap if you pushed the wrong buttons or even with one thing. she could fire a curse that could end her for good. abigail greatly respected bellatrix, never wanting to do anything that would make bella want to do anything terrible towards her.




"As was I. Everyone knew where to look for the fun. I remember quite well, an amazing victory, I remember scoring most if not all the points for Slytherin. I was an amazing chaser. And then I remember the celebration most of which involved you."


He chuckles when she says it’s strong. “Child’s play my dear. Don’t tell me after a few glasses of that you’ll be done for.”

"It was a well deserved celebration for such a fine player. I figured there was no better way to celebrate that win. And I knew I couldn’t disappoint, that night, of all nights. Our escapades were one of my favorite memories back in that damned castle."


"While it is strong, it’s not enough to tear me down, sweetheart." She shakes off the burning feeling, putting down the glass with a smirk. "Try me, I’m a trooper."



Doesn’t everybody.

I can see that confidence of yours. Almost as big as mine. Now an award is something meant to be kept secret. IF you want to find out then you’ll just have to beat us.


It gets me curious sometimes, what it would be like to be the one to inflict the damage on that face of yours, Lulu, but I think that would jeopardize my friendship with both you and Narcissa.

Nothing is bigger than your confidence. Wait, maybe your ego is. But those two go hand in hand. We should talk it through with Rod - rules and prizes. I don’t want to get a crummy prize for such a lovely win.