Rain streaked down upon the dirty window panes of Spinners End. The sounds of the fire crackling in the hearth, and the ticking of the aged clock on the mantelpiece, were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.
‘Bella’ as her husband, Severus, referred to her, twisted a long blood-red fingernail, around a tress of silky ink-black hair.
“It could work”.
Severus’ coal-black eyes bored into hers.
“If the Dark Lord were to find out…” he whispered.
“He won’t,” she insisted.
Severus twirled suddenly, his long black robes flapping in the wind as he did so.
“I think that I’ve narrowed it down to the pair that would perfectly fit the Dark Lord’s needs.”
Severus narrowed his eyes at her. When Bella had that particular look in her eyes, it did not bode well.
“Dare I ask?” he asked, suspiciously.
“The children have to be approximately twelve or thirteen years of age,” she said thoughtfully.
“Not afraid to break the rules.”
“Not afraid to allow their fear to over-rule their curiosity.”
“Plenty of courage and luck to extricate themselves from sticky situations.”
“With above average intelligence, already inseparable…someone the Dark Lord already has a connection with, and has risen above him before, capable of trickery, and whose minds work really more like Slytherins, despite their very Gryffindorish qualities…”
“No!” Severus snapped. “Absolutely not! I forbid it!”
“Severus,” she cajoled. “It would be the perfect plan, and the Dark Lord would never guess in a thousand years. “It would be…the perfect revenge.”
Severus pressed a long fingertip against his forehead, to ease the sudden stab of pain that burrowed in the deep crease of his brow.
“It is a risk.”
“Oh yes,” she purred, as the corner of her lip lifted, “but imagine the irony of it, should the plan succeed.”