The temperature inside the club was colder than the crisp temperature outside. The atmosphere was even crisper than the weather. No miserable soul in the Moulin Rouge came here for a social call or to drink with buddies. If certain artifacts were not being hastily exchanged in hushed whispers, or questionable favors being given under the tables, then a person came here to be alone and watch beautiful women dance. To drink away their miseries, forget the day, or just to forget themselves

The rusted bells over the door gave a strangled cry as a new customer entered the club. Her boots roughly announced her presence before she could be named by sight. Even though her hood was up, securing her face against the harsh wind, there was no mistaking the woman that had just entered the Moulin Rouge. The opened front of her cloak allowed passers by glimpses of a set of robes that cost more than the majority of the shops in sur le marché. A Black was too well bred to be in such surroundings, but a Black was also never expected to abide by the forced norm for society. And Bella had never abided by her own family’s warped version of the norm. So coming to a slightly grimy and overtly sexual club, alone, with some of the lowest scoundrels on earth to surround her as she got wasted, was nothing out of her own ordinary.

Sauntering up to the bar, she let the door bang shut behind her; all the while well aware of the sets of eyes on her. She did not belong in this surrounding, but there was not a piece of scum here that did not at least know of her family name, if not her own. It was no secret what she got up to and who she served. Her nails rapped against the wood of the counter impatiently until the bar tender finally came over to grace her with his presence. Bellatrix looked down on him through heavily lidded eyes, before her line of vision traced to the dirty glass in his hand.

”Red wine, and don’t bring a glass.”

The bartender turned to fill her order, and Bellatrix took out her wand from within the folds of her corset. With an almost bored wave she conjured her own gently tapering wine glass. As the barkeep held out the bottle to her, she snatched it from his hand and picked up her glass. Turning, Black looked over the club for a place to sit where she could reside in peace and get trashed out of her mind without being interrupted.

Strutting across the bar, she took off her cloak and threw it across the table in the back, directly in front of a rather mal-cleaned window. Sitting down the wine and glass, she sat down before pouring herself a tall measure. Black left the cork off of the bottle and drained her glass in one gulp. She had never been a proper sipper, like Narcissa or Andromeda. In fact, she was the exact type of daughter that made her mother want to strangle her out of existence. But, Druella could never catch her eldest daughter. With Narcissa still away, and her parents’ disappearance to some foreign country yet again, Bella found herself sitting at home bored beyond measure. She also found herself getting wasted more so than usual, and waking up in a different bed nearly every morning. Her life was frivolous and carefree, she was given a substantial amount of time to herself now. The greatest feeling in the world was waking up and knowing that she only had to worry about herself that day. By day, she played the part of a bored bachelorette, and by night she got up to things that would make her mother shriek, and every spare moment in between she was torturing, kidnapping, and murdering.

Waving her wand again, she magically filled her glass to the brim and picked it up. Lightly, she sipped, before downing half of the red liquid and staring out the window to her right. With any luck she would find some sort of entertainment for the night. If not, then she had as much alcohol as her parents’ bank account would allow her to buy to keep her company.