Bellatrix won't linger long, but when she parts from the hold she leaves her hands at her sister's shoulders, pulling back to observe her a bit more kindly than she had before.

"You're so young," she comments, at last - and then the fondness is gone, replaced by an entirely different manner of glee. Bellatrix is her sister, true enough, but first and foremost she is a servant to something higher, and that's what fuels the newfound fire in her gaze, the smile that twists her features.

"But you've little need to worry, have you? We've won, Cissy." It's nothing but a hiss, but not malicious in the slightest - which might sound stranger, coming from her.