- Messages
- 439
- OOC First Name
- Camilla!
- Wand
- Hemlock Wand 13 1/3", Essence of Niffler Fur
Walking through the streets of Berlin with her head held high, Clara plastered an all-knowing smirk on her beautiful face. Filthy muggles, didn't know what she was capable of. She could've killed a bunch of them in an instant. After all, she'd just ended her sister's life - filthy blood-traitor that she was.
Still, it wouldn't be fun. Nothing seemed much fun anymore, not even slowly destroying her sister's life, along with the life of her filthy muggle husband.
Nothing seemed much fun without Joseph around, as humiliating as that was to admit. She missed him. The great pureblood arse, Joseph? Clara almost shuddered. She was crazy enough as it was. She didn't have to add the humiliation of being crazy about Joseph on top of that.
Sighing, Clara stepped in to a sidestreet. There was a nice magical bar there. And at
30am, it was bound to be open. She needed a drink. Or five.
Ordering a wine - she had to start off simply - Clara slumped in to a comfortable chair towards the back, resting her feet. The black high heels were gorgeous, but God, they hurt. Throwing back her drink, Clara rested a palm against her forehead. There was nothing she could do about the Joseph thing, as much as she would've loved to pretend she wasn't a fool for him. She may have been a decent actress, but not even she could hide something so terribly obvious.
Still, it wouldn't be fun. Nothing seemed much fun anymore, not even slowly destroying her sister's life, along with the life of her filthy muggle husband.
Nothing seemed much fun without Joseph around, as humiliating as that was to admit. She missed him. The great pureblood arse, Joseph? Clara almost shuddered. She was crazy enough as it was. She didn't have to add the humiliation of being crazy about Joseph on top of that.
Sighing, Clara stepped in to a sidestreet. There was a nice magical bar there. And at

Ordering a wine - she had to start off simply - Clara slumped in to a comfortable chair towards the back, resting her feet. The black high heels were gorgeous, but God, they hurt. Throwing back her drink, Clara rested a palm against her forehead. There was nothing she could do about the Joseph thing, as much as she would've loved to pretend she wasn't a fool for him. She may have been a decent actress, but not even she could hide something so terribly obvious.