Adrienne

[Adrienne Mina Moretti]

{I CANT BELIEVE THE NEWS TODAY}

hi, my name is Leah and i joined because I just can't stay away from Lills and Nessa =D.

{AND THE BATTLES JUST BEGUN}

FULL NAME:
Adrienne Mina Gabrielle Moretti
AGE:
Eighteen
YEAR or OCCUPATION:
Seventh
BIRTHDAY:
June first
SCHOOL/FORMER SCHOOL:
Hogwarts
HOUSE/FORMER HOUSE:
Serpentssss
FAMILY:
Father -deceased-
Mother -bitch- 38
ANYTHING ELSE:
History:
The prelude;
It’s a rather unfortunate situation when one is fooled into a marriage. An even worse one when one is forced and fooled in the same instance. So Dominique got the worst of two horrible instances when her father sold her to Jason Moretti. It wasn’t uncommon among purebloods to buy their brides, actually there wasn’t much that was uncommon among pureblood families in those days, and it was just kept under wraps, as is everything unpleasant in their world. Dominique’s parents both came from relatively unknown pureblood families. You know the type. The ones who think their status is everything, though no one can ever really place them and would sell their arm and a leg [possibly a spleen or two here and there as well] just for their families to regain some recognition. It was of no surprise then that Dominique’s father agreed to the sale of his only daughter when the Moretti family asked. The Moretti’s were old money, and while not entirely well known, an upright wizarding family in Italy, and therefore one step above Dominique’s. It was a privilege in their eyes to negotiate the sale of her, and therefore elevate themselves. Of course how were they to know that Jason Moretti wasn’t the upstanding citizen everyone thought him to be? Even Dominique was faintly happy about her arranged marriage. Jason was handsome, she was seventeen, and her family was shoving the lies about what an honor it was down her throat at every turn. And he was positively charming in person surrounded by all their friends and family. So the wedding passed without a hitch, her thinking that she was moving into a better life. It took maybe five minutes of being alone with him for her entire thinking to be altered. How she had missed the whiskey he’d been downing the whole time, or the cocaine that he’d taken before hand she’d never know. The door closed to their honey moon suite and it was like an entirely different person that met her eyes. There were no sweet words, or actually anything romantic. There were blows to the face, the stomach, and anywhere he could reach in his drunken stupor. And then there was him forcing himself upon her.
She tried convincing herself the next morning that it had all been her imagination, and sure enough he seemed to act different in public again, taking her hand. The perfect gentleman. But that night was a repeat. And the next. Her days fell into a pattern. When other people were around he was mister charming, the perfect man… Her friends whispered about how lucky she was. Her family was absolutely delirious… And she was miserable. But she kept convincing herself things would change. After all, they’d barely just made it out of their honeymoon. Right? Things would get better when he learned to love her. Unfortunately things continued that way for a full year. No one knew, no one had to. The friend’s she’d once had been now his too, and they were only allowed to visit when he was home. No one was allowed when he wasn’t. She was literally on her own those days, and even her dressing was to be altered. He didn’t want her wearing anything that showed too much skin, or reflected badly on him. Same to be said for things he considered too tight. The only place she was allowed to go alone was the grocery store, and even there she knew his friends reported on her. And every night was the same. She was sure now he delighted more in her screams and the pain he caused her than anything sexual that might pass between, or as a result of. The blood got him off more than anything else she ever did could. So when about a year and a half in she found out she was pregnant. She was ecstatic. She’d finally have someone to be with her, and to love her… and maybe, just maybe her husband would stop and change his ways with a kid in the house. And he would realize how much she loved him, and return the feeling.
The birth;
Of course things never went as planned for these two. The beatings didn’t stop through pregnancy, and the hospital was taking notice, but as the wife denied it and promised she was just clumsy she believed, and people moved on with their lives. How simple the human mind is, one little lie placed so easily, and without any proof of being truth, and the human mind accepts it. Because it’s easier. Pathetic. So it was of no surprise that the baby was born two months premature from a ‘fall’ down the stairs. Five pounds and three ounces of little blue something came out. Somehow, most likely due to all of her ‘accidents’, the baby had gotten the umbilical cord around its chest and resulted in lack of air flow. So instead of pink, we get a blue baby, which did not represent gender, for the record. For a good three minutes they were sure they were going to lose the baby, Dominique beside herself with hysterics on one end, and the doctors trying to revive her child on the other. Many times, after hearing this story, she would wish they wouldn’t have tried and she’d died then and there. But, the doctor flipped her over; and with a firm tap to her rump the room emitted in what the doctor would latest describe as the loudest and most animalistic scream he’d ever heard from that of any human being, much less a baby just delivered.
Growing Up;
The baby was dubbed Adrienne Mina Moretti. After the initial scrubbing of the general ‘mommy debris’ off of her, and the general calming down of the airways; she was finally able to be seen. She was tiny, that much was expected, but the perfection that Dominique saw in her was not. Tiny, with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and a mop of honey colored hair, she was the exact image of a cross between her two parents in a small bundle form. Her father started doting attention on her almost immediately as he was allowed to see her. Which only served to piss Dominique off, but she got over it fairly quickly thinking that it was a good thing[stupid bitch]. They took her home when the stint in the hospital was over, and Dominique really started to believe things were better. For a full year things progressed well in their house. Dominique and Jason were getting along; he was the man he was in public and private too. And Adrienne seemed to be the light of their lives. That is until one day Dominique came home from spending time with her family. She’d left Adrienne with Jason for the evening, much like any other. But she’d made it back an hour sooner than expected, and decided to surprise the pair. She walked into the house to hear her daughter screaming and crying, she was about three weeks away from being two years old, and she followed the sound. She was naked and the sick son of a bitch was taking photos of her, his hands straying to places that should never be visited on a child so young. And Dominique did nothing. She didn’t stop it. She didn’t complain. What did she do? She resented her daughter. In that moment things were decided for Adrienne very suddenly. Her mother threw a fit before retreating to lock herself in her room with a bottle of whiskey, but not before Jason decked her a few times, and none of it was on the child’s behalf. And so life continued much the same as before Adrienne had come into their lives, only now half of Jason’s frustration was worked out upon the child, not that it helped Dominique any. Adrienne was five and a half the first time her father fully had sex with her. And that was probably the first time anything so out of the ordinary really happened with her magical wise. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had odd happenings around her before, but not on this level. Her father retreated after that encounter with boils and burns on nearly every inch of his skin. And Adrienne got the beating of her life. Two days in the ICU of Saint Mungos, and a quick spell for her father later and things were back. It became a pattern almost, though the trips to Saint Mungos stopped, her mother was getting tired of taking her by the time she was seven, and it wasn’t as if she had a lot of contact with kids her age.
By eight years old she was sneaking out of her house nearly every night. Cigarettes became her new best friends, though she hadn’t nearly become dependent on them yet. Every night was spent at the local park with a cigarette staining her breath and practicing whatever magic she could, sometimes an art pad accompanied her. But more often than not her father found whatever art pads she had hidden, and of course they were destroyed. She was nine years old when they found her at the park. They were nice. They were also ranging in three to five years older than her. They were the closest she’d ever come to knowing friends. Chris, Michael, Justin, and C.J. She’d known them for maybe a month when they talked her into leaving the park with them. It was the dead of winter, so talking her into going to Chris’ garage for the warmth, and of course something hot to drink wasn’t too hard. What happened next was. It was like a repeat of her father all over again… except this time she cared about the people doing it to her, and seeing as she’d grown up with that type of abuse her whole life she couldn’t totally understand the evil of what they were doing. Magic deserted her; it wasn’t as if she had a wand yet. And her pathetic attempts to fight them off physically were never anything more than that- pathetic. Neither her mother or father noticed the bruises when she showed back up at home at six the next morning. Though the fact that she came in through the front door and didn’t much care to hide that she’d been out brought her a good few beatings throughout the day. She tried staying away from the park, for nearly a week she refused to leave her house after dark, and tried to convince herself that she was better off without those ‘friends’. But somehow she ended up going back. Time and time again. She looks back on it these days and wonders why. But to a nine year old girl, who has only ever known sexual abuse from her father, and constant neglect and hate from her mother, they were the closest to affection she got. It wasn’t to say that she let them do it to her. It wasn’t as if they did all the time anyways. Just every now and then. And when they didn’t they really did treat her as if she was a friend, and made no comments to the nights when things did happen. Because in all five of their minds [and yes that’s including hers] it didn’t happen… Except when it did… And even then it was quickly glossed over, no matter how much she fought. Meanwhile things at her house were getting worse. Because even if Adrienne didn’t see it, her awkwardness was growing into prettiness that no one could deny. And it only seemed to increase her father’s attentions.
Eleven;
Her Beauxbatons letter came on the exact day she turned eleven, and that day was a free for all hell… Her father, rather out of resentment that she was leaving or some other sickness, attacked her worse than ever before. Fists, nails, foreign objects, everything was hurled at her at a pace she could barely keep up with. And it seemed relentless. Her mother went up to her room, once again the bottle of whiskey her only friend as she left them to it, she’d never really seemed to care in the first place, and she’d never admit that she wouldn’t mind both of them dying that day. But as the fates would have it, it was Jason who had to deal with it. She doesn’t know where it came from, or how the knife even entered her hand. But one minute she was being sexually attacked by her father –much the same as any other time-, and the next she was plunging a knife through his neck. She was screaming and detangling herself from him as her mother came unhurried down the stairs. Nothing was passed between the two as Adrienne got dressed, waiting for something to come her way. Even today her mother’s detached words fit easily into her mind, her nightmares. “Get cleaned up and go burry that. I’m calling your Uncle.” And she did as she was told. Her Uncle worked for the ministry, and Dominique played a good grieving widow. For the first few months of the investigation they expected her mother, though as it was obvious he had died during sexual intercourse, and her examination proved negative, they couldn’t hold her. And they never even thought of checking the eleven year old daughter, after all… Jason wouldn’t do that…

Their move to London was quietly taken care of, the transfer to Hogwarts the easiest bit of all. As for her ‘friends’ back home… no one knew she was leaving. No one even knew what happened. She’d drawn in upon herself, and the cigarettes that had kept her alive those so many years ago were her only constant. Her mother still didn’t talk to her. They didn’t speak about what happened to Jason, as far as she was concerned the authorities had gotten it right. Some whore he’d been fooling around with had exacted her revenge. Because in her eyes that was all her daughter was. She’d been too ruined by the man she’d called her husband to think any other way. So they moved into the country in London, it wasn’t as if either of them were expecting Adrienne to ever be home except for summer holidays, and even then she could try being somewhere else.
Hogwarts;
That first day was probably the roughest out of her entire Hogwarts career. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to interact with people. She did. She could talk and laugh and make everyone around her think that she was perfectly happy to be going off to a school she’d never even visited before, and that everything was peachy keen. And ‘yeah, I’m going to miss my mum too.’ And she could make people believe that the funny way they made their words sound was okay. Because she talked with a slight accent still. A rolling of her r’s, the soft almost musical lilt she spoke with. It was all normal. And she was normal. That was probably what she was best at was her acting that night. But the truth was there were too many people around. And she didn’t know a single one. And every time her arm brushed a guy near her she nearly turned to hurtle herself off the train. Because all guys did that to people. Didn’t they? It was all she’d ever known. The sorting ceremony was the worst. The more people touched her when she was accepted the more she wanted to go outside and jump off the top of the highest tower. But she saw it through with a smile because really, a part of her needed it. This physical contact that was totally innocent of any sexuality. A part of her craved it even as the other part of her threatened to take her life.
But that was only the first night. Gradually she settled into things. Touching her still seemed to set off alarms within her mind, but no one else would notice. She was probably the clumsiest of anyone she knew there, always tripping over the air underneath her feet, though she was quick to make some joke about it and have the entire Common Room laughing with her. People were easy, maybe too easy to manipulate. And she understood them. In and out she knew them. Maybe it was heightened because of the hell she’d lived through. But people were easy to her. And she liked being surrounded by them, even if she hated it. It was hard to completely enter her mind, it always would be. Because really her mind was the only place she was safe from everything. Someone trying to get inside it would be hardpressed, because she could barely enter it sometimes. Dumbledore noticed it, but he was probably the only one to even know, after all who else would’ve? She was a haven in herself. And she knew it. Which is probably why she only made the minimal of good grades, mostly straying more towards average. She’s extremely intelligent but… she doesn’t really care too much for her grades, finding them a poor judge of her intelligence and ability. She doesn’t need a scrap of paper to tell her what she’s good at and what she’s not.


{WE EAT AND DRINK WHILE TOMORROW THEY DIE}

Her eyes narrowed just slightly as she turned her head, her lips pulled into a straight line, face an icy mask of composure. “No, you didn’t. Beliefs are far from actuality boy,” her voice fell clear and cold upon the night air, the azure fire burning behind her iris’ hard to miss. He hadn’t gotten a rise out of her, and he hadn’t managed to make her think. It was absolutely ridiculous that he was even entertaining the notion that he had. If she played her cards right it wouldn’t be too hard in convincing him that his scenario was backwards. A few well placed conversations and… that is if tonight wasn’t some sort of anomaly. What happened after they inevitably got up and went their separate ways? Well, they’d at least be going back to the same destination, unless Regulus planned on making some other trip. But… what happened tomorrow? Were they friends again? Or was tonight some isolated incident? Would it even be public if they were friends now? Did it matter? Yes. But it shouldn’t. She resisted the urge to ask him a question, instead keeping her gaze steady, the squint of her eyes exact. There was no point in dropping her façade, even if her anger was evaporating, even if she was starting to get a bit confused over this whole thing. She was analytical, and she needed to assess the situation…she just didn’t want to.

Her eyes rolled backwards into her skull, the faint smile that pulled at her lips carefully maintained. “Right Regulus. Because that’s what you’re doing. Wooing me.” The sarcasm was evident in her voice as she shook her head softly, the locks splaying over her face momentarily as she searched for her next words. “And even if you were, haven’t we already gone over the fact that any and all of those things you are incapable of doing for me?” She ran a mock assessment over his person, her lips curling in what one could consider feigned distaste as she shook her head just slightly, tsking as she turned away yet again. There was no reason to let him believe he could do anything for her. If simply for the fact that she refused to let him, after all she had her own distractions to worry about them. And a matured Regulus Black was not one of them. Her lips twitched at the thought, her eyes sliding back to him before she outright laughed. The sound was almost foreign as it escaped her lips, the musical lilting stopping just as soon as it had started. He was absolutely ridiculous. Just… ridiculous. Her eyes fell to the heavens as she chuckled silently, her lips strained in a smile. “Why waste your money on something impossible my friend?” Her eyes darted back to his once more, her head tilting to the right. It wasn’t a challenge necessarily in her eyes. She just couldn’t ascend to something like that. And it was impossible for her to be honest in this situation so…

“Yes well. You know how my tutor was.” She rolled her eyes gently, still laughing at the mention. Her tutor was… well he was himself and that was all that could be said of the man. Her lips tipped up in an even larger grin as she nodded at his admittance. “I know you can’t. And uh, just by the way,” she winked lightly, her eyes filled with poorly suppressed mirth, “that’s wizarding music.” Her lips tipped ever higher at her second win of the night. It really was rather too easy to beat him at such things, she supposed it was… faulty of her to take such pride in it, but it was what it was. And she would not be made to feel bad just because she took advantage of the situation. She leant back slightly, watching as his fingers picked out a familiar rhythm, one that she herself was doing on her own arm at this point. A small, self-satisfied smile grew over her lips as she recognized such, but for now she’d be quiet, after all… it was almost endearing. God forbid.

She let a small laugh escape her lips at his questions, her eyes darting away from his lest she actually be compelled to answer honestly. “Secretive? Me..? Oh my.” She paused, her eyes going back to his with more than a fair deal of a challenge in them. She was positively dark in that moment and she knew it. She knew the light was falling across only half of her face knew that her eyes would be sparking at twice their intensity, and she knew that her skin would appear to be glowing. So it was of little surprise that her voice, when it entered, was a fair bit darker in tone, and held a good deal more of an intensity. “I never claimed to play fair,” each word was said slowly, letting it drop upon his ears before she continued to the next. The truth was that she wanted him to know, but it was weird. And strange. And she knew it would only further to show that she was too different from most people. And Regulus didn’t like his girls different. She almost felt her own jaw drop, her eyebrows climbing her face in surprise before she’d even had a change to evaluate it. Where had that thought come from. Jesus. She was incapable of even further thinking of it, her mind instantly banishing it, and any like it, to the back of her mind. She let a smile grace her lips once more, pretending that she’d never strayed from the conversation, though it was easier to maintain after he uttered his next words. “I have an attractive friend named Regulus? You’ll have to introduce us sometime.” Her words fell quick, though it was hard to miss the wink she passed along with it. The more they joked the faster he forgot the real subject they were entertaining.

She didn’t know why she was trying so hard to make him understand this subject. Death wasn’t something most people understood, and it was far from something most people saw no problem with inflicting. Maybe what happened to her mother was really catching up to her. But dealing with the death of your father at such a young age, followed by the institutionalization of your mother left you to think over such things. And Kariana being the way she was of course it led to countless hours of study and pondering the question. But why did it matter if he saw things the way she did, or even how he saw it at all? Telling him these things was only divulging something that no one else, save maybe her older sister Fawne, was even aware existed behind the white-blue eyes of the second youngest Ms.Travers. And telling him that only created yet another something to add to the list of strings. And this friendship was already odd enough with it all. She felt her breath catch in her chest, the sigh issuing forth bringing a small frown to her lips. This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her evening. And the questions of what happened after they parted ways were still ever present within her thoughts, though she’d done a good job of shoving them to the back of her mind until recently.

“I know,” she stated simply, her lips curling in a small smile. “It was an easy mistake.” She shrugged gently. “Most people would’ve made it.” Actually there are very few who wouldn’t have, very few who hadn’t. She waited mere moments fall after he uttered his ‘speech’ to react. Her eyes narrowed once again, the anger from before returning. Though this was no mere him calling her cute. She’d actually let herself become vulnerable, she had actually tried to make him feel better. She’d talked to him nicely for Chrissake. And this was what she got in return? And people wondered why she didn’t form bonds. Because people were stupid, plain and simple. And Regulus Black was their stupid fucking King. “Jesus Christ and his mother Mary!” She exclaimed, her own face twisting in a frown as she rolled away from him, instantly regretting even trying to be nice. She knew there was a reason she kept to herself for the most part. That had been the most ridiculous outburst she’d ever seen! And all because the idiot boy only ever heard half of what the people around him said. “Do you realize how fucking stupid you just managed to make yourself look?” The words came bitingly out from her lips, her frame tensed as she stared unseeingly upon the branches that hung over them. “Do you realize how fucking idiotic and fucking self centered you are?” Her hands lay on either side of her, her fingers digging into the grass as she let them curl into fists. Egocentric asshole. Her eyes remained on the sky, her refusal to look at him clear from her very position. “I was just saying that everyone does things differently, takes things differently and that it was perfectly okay if you couldn’t kill because you were more useful in other areas. But maybe I was fucking wrong. Maybe you really are just utterly useless, excuse the fuck out of me for attempting to be nice.” Each word fell as though laced with acid, her figure shaking from her mere anger. Why in the hell she’d ever try to console him she couldn’t understand. Ugh. She blinked furiously, fighting the temptation to get up and leave. Because as much as she wanted to leave his pathetic figure alone there, she’d been there first. Ridiculous boy. She was starting to regret this entire conversation, wishing that they could’ve somehow parted ways before they’d even started speaking again.

The emotion welling within the confines of her ribs was something she wasn’t used to, something she couldn’t identify right away. After all it had been years since she’d allowed herself to be in a situation that infused such a thing, much less one where it actually came to pass. Her fingers dug concussively into her palms, the skin beneath fragmenting under the sharp points of her nails. It took moments before she felt a sticky substance come from beneath her nails, sliding over her palms and falling unto the grass upon which they lay. She was… hurt. The word both disgusted and intrigued her. She was completely angry that he led her to such a feeling, but more than that she was wondering how he’d done it. It was ridiculous. She shook her head slightly, still refusing to look at his profile lest she do something she would later regret.