Dorcas is torn to pieces (certaindoom) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-09-20 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/09 september, dorcas meadowes, leoben yaxley |
Who: Dorcas Meadowes and Leoben Yaxley
When: Sunday, 20 September 1980; night
Where: Ben's stables
What: A birthday celebration
Rating: More violence, Ben's creepy and Dorcas's mouth
Status: Completed log
Sleep had not been the blessing that Dorcas had hoped for. As exhausted as she was, both physically and emotionally, pain and fear had kept her awake for most of the night. And whenever she finally did succumb to brief fits of sleep, it was not long before nightmares had her awake again, sobbing and screaming in terror. Eventually it seemed that awake and exhausted was preferable to what sleep she was managing and she gave up the idea entirely. The stable was explored as best as she was able, every last bit of wall pressed against in search of some escape, the doors pounded against until her hands were burnt all over again, until what energy she had summoned was gone and she curled up in the corner of the room, sitting with her back up against the wall and her knees pressed to her chest. She had never been so miserable in her life. She was exhausted and terrified, her entire body ached, her clothes were stiff with dirt and the dried blood of her father and her throat burned from screaming and from thirst. At some point along the line she had remembered the listening device in her pocket, and the small marble was now clutched in her shaking hand as she tried to share whatever information she could manage in the hope that someone might be able to use it to save her. If anyone was even listening after... god, the thought of what they'd had to hear last night. The receiver had been at Frank's house. But thinking about him and Al having to listen to her scream and plead... No. She couldn't think about that. She just needed to do this. "Stables," she started, her voice soft and wavering, barely more than a whisper. "I'm in a stable. It's not used. It smells like... nothing. Can't hear anything either. There are tables and an in... incinerator. Big double doors that burn when you hit them. And a bunch of windows but they're too high to reach. Nothing else. Really nothing. It's too clean. He's got a list of... god... He's got a list of all of us. And our families. School years, where we work, where we live. Some of it's out of date but not all." She paused for a minute, taking a few deep, steadying breaths before continuing on. "Yaxley left last night. I haven't seen anyone since. We were at Christchurch Castle. Dorset. Ed and I. I don't know... if he made it. Please. If he's not back, find him. Yaxley had my parents. We went but there were more of them. He stunned me and brought me here and cr... He broke my wand. I lost the portkey. I don't know- I don't know what to do. I'm going to try and slip this - the listening device - on Yaxley so you... can maybe find him or... Please. Please help me. I don't want him to hurt me any more." Today had been all very productive, or at least as productive as any day was for Leoben. Unremarkable, for the most part, except for the lingering knowledge that it was his birthday and that he had a prisoner. It was mostly unlike him to keep someone alive for so long. But this had turned into a rather personal affair. He was forcibly reminded of his father. That had been personal too. He'd ripped Vitus's spine out of his head. He wondered, vaguely, over birthday dinner, if Dorcas would receive similar treatment at the end of this all. There were rules to this, though they were mostly his own. He wanted to draw it out this time. He wanted to break her before he killed her. And he would kill her. For as long as this had been drug out, for months of irritation and discomfort to both himself and the Cause, she could not live. Now though, he was finishing up with dinner and gifts. He checked on his wife and promised to be in bed at a reasonable hour. And then he cut another slice of cake, poured a glass of birthday scotch for himself and apparated outside of the stable. The doors opened on one command or another and a handful of lights turned on so that they would not be in the dark. Or rather, so he did not have to deal with the dark. "Good evening, Miss Meadowes," he greeted, in a clearly better mood than he'd been in yesterday. Leoben conjured a chair next to a table - the one he'd killed and butchered her brother on, incidentally, though she didn't know that - and sat down. He put the plated cake on it and took a sip of scotch for himself. "How are you feeling today?" Dorcas cringed instinctively at Leoben's arrival into the stable, her arms tightening around her legs, the marble still clutched in her hand as she tried to press herself further into the wall, as if she might somehow disappear into it. How was she feeling? He had to be kidding. How did he think she was feeling? Her expression changed from one of fear to pure hatred as she glared at Yaxley, not moving from her place on the ground. And he brought cake and scotch? Oh, how lovely that he was going to enjoy his dessert while torturing her. Although the sight of the cake did stir the hunger curling through her stomach - a lesser complaint than the more obvious pains, but one that was quickly brought to the forefront of her mind at the sight of the food. No, she wouldn't think about it. She wouldn't. And she didn't want to answer his damn question either. But finally she muttered a quiet, "Just fucking great." What did he expect? Leoben watched carefully for a moment, idly sipping his scotch again. He did not, as a rule, appreciate sarcasm or that particular kind of language. He supposed she'd had all day to stew and get her annoyingly unbroken spirit back. He said nothing for a moment, resting his head, bored. His eyes fell on the cake, as if he'd just remembered he'd brought it. "This is for you," he said finally, shifting in his seat. "You can have it, if you promise not to do something uncouth, like attacking me with the fork or breaking the plate. I'm afraid I shall have to take it from you, if that were the case." He levitated the plate in front of him and looked at her expectantly. "Can you manage that responsibility?" Dorcas eyed the cake warily. She did want it, but she didn't trust Yaxley in the slightest and for all she knew, he had poisoned the cake or put something in it to just make her sick or suffer more. It wasn't even about trying to stab him with the fork (although now that he mentioned it...) she just did not know how to react to this odd sort of civility from the man who had destroyed her life. "I... Did you poison it?" she asked bluntly, looking back towards the ground. Not that she would have a choice in eating it if he had. Or that she could expect him to answer honestly, but she didn't know what else to say. Leoben sighed. He didn't understand. She was going to die one way or another, surely she had worked that out by now. "Poison would be an incredibly mild and boring way for me to kill you, Miss Meadowes," he pointed out, levitating the plate towards her another foot. "It is my birthday. I was only being generous. I'll eat it myself if you don't want it. I only thought I would share." He sounded perfectly reasonable, as if he didn't understand what the concern was. Truthfully, he didn't. Dorcas's gaze flickered back and forth between the cake and Leoben's face, trying to decide if some bit of food was enough to risk whatever he might have done to it. And fucking hell, it was his birthday? What kind of man... No, she didn't want to really consider the answer to that question. There was a brief, incredulous look on her face but it was quickly replaced by resignation. It wasn't so much the food, as hungry as she was, but some bit of reason told her that maybe, maybe if she just played whatever this sick and twisted game of his was for a bit, she might somehow help her situation. "Okay," she replied softly. "But could I... have some water," she added, hating herself for asking. That was what she really wanted and if it meant eating Leoben Yaxley's fucking birthday cake, it was worth it to help with her parched throat. Leoben carefully floated the plate to her and set it at her side with a low clink. The request for water brought some amount of surprise to his face. She had asked certainly, and he supposed that that was an improvement. He considered her for a moment and then conjured a glass and poured water from the tip of his wand. "Magic words, Miss Meadowes," he reminded quietly, just a soft nudge towards what he wanted from her. Elementary courtesies, after all. The cake was ignored as her attention was focused solely on the glass and the water and god, she was so thirsty. She probably would have begged for it, if he'd made her and so the request that she simply say please did not seem to be much in comparison and yet it was still a reminder of how helpless she was. "Please," she said, her voice still quiet as she stared at the glass. Leoben nodded and levitated the glass to her, letting it hover directly in front of her to take. As soon as she had, he turned his attention back to his scotch, sipping again as he let his eyes wander over the room. Nothing had changed, so far as she could tell. It wasn't as if she could leave. That was partly why he allowed small comforts. This would be the last room she would ever see, like so many before her. He had never allowed anyone to actually walk around though. "Your portkey, who gave it to you?" he asked abruptly, more idle conversation than anything. Leoben did not enjoy letting silences sit for very long. She took the glass and greedily gulped down the water, taking a few hard breaths once she had drained it. The relieving of her thirst did much to revive her and she set the glass down before picking up the plate of cake. Although she still couldn't quite bring herself to eat it. Now it was less the thought that it was poisoned and more that it was this fucker's birthday cake and instead she just poked at it with the fork as she balanced the plate on her knees. Now that she could actually think, she tried to figure out a way to get the listening device on Yaxley. Or maybe she could stab him with the fork. Or slice his throat open with a shard of broken glass. But that all involved getting close to him and even Dorcas had enough sense to realise that the minute she got off the ground and made a move towards him, he'd start cursing her again. She was startled and pulled from her thoughts by his sudden question and she looked up at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the now mangled cake. No, she wouldn't betray Al. She wouldn't bring his name into any of this, never mind the fact that the Death Eaters knew they were friends now and his cover was blown. It didn't matter. "A friend," she replied stubbornly before taking a bite of the damn dessert after all. Leoben sighed, looking vaguely exasperated. "Yes, but who?" he asked, annoyed at having to repeat himself. He wasn't even that curious. What did it matter to him who had given her a portkey? Now it was simply the principle of the matter. She had to learn that if he asked a question, he expected an answer. A proper answer. A name. Dorcas knew it was a bad idea, she knew that defying Yaxley did not lead to any good but she just couldn't bring herself to give up Al. She looked up at him and her expression was not one of defiance, but of wariness and yet still her only response was to turn her attention back to her cake and put another overly large bite in her mouth. Yaxley did not seem to be the type to approve of eating with one's mouth full after all. And it was at that moment that she realised the cake tasted disturbingly familiar. Greta. God, he'd been to Greta's bakery. Leoben rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. With a wave of his wand, he blasted the cake from her hand and vanished the glass shards of the plate. "You will answer me when I ask you a question," he snapped, wand pointed at her chest. He didn't understand what was so difficult to comprehend. They had went through this lesson yesterday. He supposed she could simply be exceptionally stupid. It certainly would fit the pattern. "Crucio," he growled, not really that fussed with the cake in her mouth. He had been generous, giving her anything to eat. Dorcas was startled when the plate was blasted from her hand and she foolishly, for a moment, thought that was going to be the worst of it. And then the cruciatus hit. And she remembered quite vividly why defiance was a poor choice. There was hardly room for her to fall to the ground with the way she had wedged herself into the corner but she couldn't hold herself up either and her head smacked into the wall but compared to the pain of the curse, it wasn't even noticeable. The half-eaten cake fell from her mouth as she started screaming again, the marble falling from her hand and rolling across the ground but all she could think about was how much everything hurt and how she just wanted it to stop. Leoben would have been content to hold this curse for longer, to again, push at that boundary. But he was distracted by what fell out of her hand. He watched it roll for a moment and then lifted the curse, apparently no longer interested in her suffering as he levitated the marble so it was in front of his face, only three or four inches and hovering at eye level. "What is this?" he asked, sounding suddenly intrigued. He turned it over in mid-air, looking for markings. It looked like nothing more than a harmless marble. But she'd been gripping it, hiding it. He wondered, idly, it was a weapon and let it float a few more inches away from his face, as though it might lunge at him. She didn't look up at Yaxley, instead focusing on trying to recover from the curse, breathing heavily and trying to calm her shaking body. Even if he had not held the curse as long this time, it was still every bit as agonising. But finally her curiosity did get the better of her and she glanced toward him. At the sight of the marble hovering in the air, which she still hadn't even realised she'd dropped, her heart fell into her stomach. The one thing she thought she might actually still manage to do to help her situation and she had ruined it. "It's a marble," she replied quietly. Which was undoubtedly not the answer he was looking for but it was an answer and it was true. And maybe if she could just manage to not tell him what it really was, he would take it with him anyway? It was the only hope she had to cling to. At least he wasn't asking about Al anymore. "A good luck charm." Leoben sighed and let the marble drop into his hand. He was growing increasingly tired of this part of the game. Why could nothing be easy? There was no reason for this. She brought all her own discomfort upon herself. Things could be so much more pleasant, if only she'd follow the rules. "It is a very ineffective good luck charm," he replied. "Crucio." Really, she was taking all the fun out of it for him. He was going to have to force her to play by the rules and they wouldn't actually get anywhere. If this was how it was going to be, he wondered if he ought to just kill her now. Fresh screams tore from her throat as pain tore through her yet again. Her fingers tore at the ground, her legs flew out and crashed into the wall, her entire body writhing and convulsing on the ground in a frantic attempt to find some way to make it stop. And then in between incomprehensible screams, she somehow managed to form two words in her desperation. "PLEASE! STOP!" she cried out. She'd do anything. She'd be good. She wouldn't argue with him or defy him, she'd do what he told her, she'd tell him everything, as long as he just made it stop. She didn't want to ever make him angry again. Who knew if it was a lesson that would last, but at the moment she fervently believed it would. Leoben held it another moment and then dropped the curse, rolling the marble between the fingers of his left hand. He dropped into his chair, for a moment, a petulant child who hadn't gotten his way. He sipped his scotch and held the marble between his thumb and forefinger. "What is this, Miss Meadowes?" he asked again, eerily calm in the silence that followed her screams. "Or perhaps, as it is only a marble, you would not be bothered if I simply destroyed it now." He levitated it up again, eyes sliding over to Dorcas in the corner. Dorcas curled up on herself the instant the curse was lifted and she regained control over her own body, once again finding the protective, defensive position of knees to chest and arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she struggled to regain her breath through her sobs. She did not look at him, she did not need to see that he was still holding up the marble. And while she knew that her initial response had been a poor one, she had hoped that her flimsy excuse of a good luck charm might have actually worked. Clearly not. As much as she wanted to come up with some other explanation for it, something that would compel him to keep it without revealing what it actually was, she had nothing. Nothing that she could be sure would spare her from another round of the curse and she could not chance otherwise. "Listening charm. On the marble," she finally replied once she had recovered her breath, her eyes closed in defeat and resignation. Leoben raised a brow at her and dropped the marble back into his hand. A listening device. He mused quietly for a moment. Logic told him this was a transmitter, because there would be no reason for her to carry the receiver. That, and the word listening, he supposed. Eavesdropping, essentially. He sipped his scotch and turned the marble of in his hands again. "Where is the receiver?" he asked finally, sitting the marble on the table, sticking it there for now so that it, at least, wouldn't roll, and so that Dorcas wouldn't be able to pry it off. He already had ideas of use for this, but to be precise, he wanted to know exactly who he was talking to. Even through her resignation, there was still a brief war in her mind over the answer. She didn't want to mention the names of any of her friends, even if Ben already knew they were a part of the Order. Whether it was or not, it felt like a betrayal to so readily answer his questions, to give him information only to spare herself pain. That, at least, was what the noble Gryffindor in her said. Reality, however, was a far different thing. She couldn't go through that again, another round of that curse, of the pain that made her wish for death and for all of her thoughts of brave knights resisting the forces of evil and the other gallant fantasies that had consumed her childhood, she was, she was quickly discovering, far weaker than she would have liked. "In my room." A non-answer, and one that would surely spark Yaxley's anger all over again, but that was not her intent. She just needed a moment before she could force the rest of the words out. "At Frank and Alice Longbottom's." She was not certain if she hoped they were listening right now so they would have warning of her betrayal or that they weren't, so they would not know just how easily she had caved. No, almost certainly the latter. Frank would have been stronger. Leoben sighed at the beginning of her answer, tiring of this charade very quickly. Half answers that were useless to him, that she had to know were useless to him and only meant to aggravate. It would only cause her more pain and he did not think she was really stupid enough to have not learnt that lesson by now. But then came the rest of her answer and he nodded, lifting a brow and feeling at least, somewhat satisfied. The pause between the thoughts at least, gave him some reason to believe she was telling the truth. "You had better not be lying to me," he said softly, almost gentle as he took another drink of his scotch, chewing on an ice cube as he pondered. "No doubt then, that you have detailed your surroundings to Mr Longbottom, or whoever happens to be listening. Do you still think they're listening, Miss Meadowes?" He raised a brow at her. "Or do you suppose they've shut you off by now? I must admit, even I am growing somewhat weary of your screaming." He finished his scotch and then said, bored all over again, "Gobbo, scotch." A crack resonated in the nearly empty building, and a house elf wearing nothing but a shrunken sheet held together by safety pins appeared with a decanter of amber liquid. He - or it as Leoben more often thought of the elf - refilled its' master's glass, loitered around, apparently undisturbed by its' surroundings until Ben gave a dismissive wave. He returned his attention back to the marble and sipped from his newly filled glass. "Well, Mr Longbottom," he said, speaking in a slightly lower voice and to the marble. "I will be terribly disappointed if you are not planing some rescue mission. Or perhaps your friend's betrayal has turned you away." His eyes flicked to Dorcas, though his speech was still directed towards the listening device. "However, in order to avoid wasting time, I should let you know that there will be no trading or bargaining. Feel free to report me to the Ministry. I almost hope you do. It would be a tremendous show of spirit. I can assure you though, that nothing will come of it." He flicked his wand at Dorcas, levitating her upside down above the table. "Say hello to your friends, Miss Meadowes," he instructed, lowering her another inch so that she was only a foot or so above the cool metal. "I'm sure they will be ever so glad to know that you are still alive." Every word, every action just made the horror that was eating away at Dorcas's insides grow that much worse and as he kept talking, she just curled tighter and tighter on herself, her eyes filling with tears. She didn't even know which of his questions demanded answers and which did not anymore, but fear had the words spilling out of her lips regardless, even to statements that had demanded no response. "I'm not lying. I promise. I told them... everything I could. That you had me, about Ed, about here. I don't know if they're listening. I really don't, I swear." And then, as he spoke directly to the listening device, the full reality of her situation hit her. There would be no escape. There was no one who Yaxley would deem worthy of a trade, there was no seeking help from the Ministry, there was no finding her wherever she was. He had promised that he would kill everyone in her family before her and he had. And now... She was going to die here. The last vestiges of hope left her as he dragged her into the air over the table and all she could manage in response to Yaxley's demand was a choked, "Frank." She couldn't even plead or beg for help, not any more. Leoben sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking her a bit in the air. "That was not what I told you to say," he said. "Tell them 'hello', Miss Meadowes, or their home will be filled with your screams again. It is rude to skip greetings and niceties. I do not want to have to teach you manners before I kill you." And he would have to, he decided. She would at least, have to pretend to be some semblance of human, or else it'd be no different than slaughtering an animal. It would bring him no satisfaction, no private reward. No, he had to remold and train her into something (what exactly, he hadn't decided yet) before he disposed of her. For all that he had so casually mentioned his intentions to kill her before, it had never hit her as hard as it did this time, as she took his words in, in all of their calm sincerity. She let out a powerful desperate sob and all she could think was that she didn't want to die. But Yaxley would not even leave her to the misery of her own thoughts as there were demands being issued again and she didn't want to learn manners at Leoben Yaxley's hand either, but what she wanted no longer mattered. That much was painfully evident. She had not actually meant to defy him. She had not understood that he wanted such a literal response to his instructions, although she likely should have expected as much. And now she did not dare resist, this time doing exactly as he instructed and forcing out a soft, "hello." She only hoped it would be enough that he would at least put her down as the blood rushing to her head was only making her more uncomfortable, more miserable. But then, she supposed that was likely the point. Leoben nodded, apparently satisfied. "See, that was not so hard," he said, letting her down in the corner of the room. "I do not understand why you insist on making things so difficult on yourself," he said with something of a frown before turning back to the listening device. "Anyway, Mr Longbottom. There is your proof of life, if you had any doubts. For now, anyway." He sighed and considered Dorcas in the corner before sipping his scotch again. He eyed what was left of the cake on the floor and then flicked his eyes back to Dorcas. "It occurs to me, Miss Meadowes, that you did not wish me a happy birthday yet. That is most rude. Certainly I would have wished you a happy birthday, were it yours. Am I going to need to teach your further manners?" He sounded rather severe, but there was something in him that was very much enjoying this. But one thing at a time. He didn't want her catching his smirk and defying him all over again. Then he would have to torture her until she complied and that was very much beginning to bore him. The moment she was back on the ground, Dorcas scrambled as far away from Yaxley as she could manage, desperately trying to press herself into the corner. Her small body shook with each soft, wordless sob, her head fell to rest against her knees as she closed her eyes and just hoped that he would leave her alone to cry in peace. She didn't understand. If he was going to kill her, why hadn't he just done it already? Why was he feeding her cake and making her give proof of life (as if her screaming had not been proof enough) and sitting there just drinking his scotch and now... making her wish him a happy birthday? That brought her head up from her knees and where once her expression would have been angry and incredulous, instead it was with a wounded sort of confusion that she looked at him. Why would he think... How could he expect... But the threat of further lessons was enough to bring the words from her lips without any further resistance. "Happy birthday," she said weakly, hating herself as she averted her gaze and made a rather intense study of the floor. Leoben nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Thank you, Miss Meadowes," he answered politely. He finished his scotch and then stood, vanishing the chair and whatever was left of the cake, plate and fork, returning the room to it's earlier state. His eyes swept the room once more as he chewed thoughtfully on an ice cube. Eventually, they fell on the marble and he wondered if he should leave it here. It was stuck, she would be unable to relocate it without magic. As interested as he was in the object, he had no desire to carry it around. A proper inspection could wait until she was dead. And the thought of her crying and screaming and scrambling for escape, making all sorts of noise that would be picked up by the transmitter to be heard by whoever was on the other side, that thought appealed to him quite a lot. And so he shook the ice in his glass for another moment and then turned. "Good night, Miss Meadowes," he said simply, tipping his head back on the way out to catch another cube between his teeth. It was getting late. |