Fabian wants destruction and rampage. (revelations_) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-06-23 21:27:00 |
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Narcissa had never really been as interested in horseback riding as her sister. She had learned, the proper way, of course, and she was decent at it, but riding had never given her the outlet she thought they gave Bellatrix. Then again, many of Bellatrix's outlets did nothing but make Narcissa curl her lip in disgust. No, Narcissa cleared her head in other ways. As shallow as everyone thought she was, she didn't go shopping. She didn't go and spend obscene amounts of money to clear her head. No, she went to the cliffs. The cliffs were part of the property in northern Wales that the Blacks owned, a misty, sort of depressing place that Narcissa's father used to take her to. She rarely went there anymore, but sometimes, when she needed to stop thinking, or to calm herself, it was a good place. As bleak as it was, it made her feel less hopeless. There was something calming about hearing the water far below crash against the rocks of the cliff, something grounding in being surrounded by dark trees and old magic. Their family graveyard was on that bit of land, further from the cliffs where the ground wasn't so hard. Every Black from the days of Merlin on was buried there. It was like a family tree of stone and earth. Narcissa didn't like to go there. It was depressing. But she stood in the cold of the early evening, sweater pulled tight around her shoulders, and stared out over the misty water, sound of the waves crashing into her ears. She wasn't as upset as she ought to be, really. Or perhaps she was more upset. It was hard to tell. The reminder of what Veronica had done was less shattering to Narcissa than the idea of who had done it. She didn't trust easily, and certainly not normally to those below a certain social standing because they just couldn't understand what it was like to be her, the purest of the purebloods. But after spending every day, hours a day, for a month straight with the woman, Narcissa had grown to trust her. She knew that they fought, but she had thought the fights resolved themselves. She had thought that Veronica was more or less on her side, even when she clearly thought Narcissa was being ridiculous. Evidently she'd been wrong, and Narcissa had never taken betrayal well. Being slighted, insulted, belittled... rare as those things were, she could take them and snap them right back into the faces of those who dared treat her that way. But betrayal? It was harder. It was partially her own fault for putting such faith in the person so as to feel hurt when they broke it. Narcissa would rather remain on that pedestal her father had put her on, and Lucius had put her on, and Bellatrix kept her on, untouchable and above everyone else. This was what it felt like, she thought, to be a commoner. Out of control. Regardless, Narcissa wasn't sure she could stomach Bellatrix killing Veronica on her behalf. Thinking about Bella's more violent tendencies abstractly was only vaguely discomfitting. But attaching to it a face, a name, a voice, a whole month of Narcissa's life, well. That was harder for her. She sighed a bit, wondering how it would go over with Bellatrix if she asked her to spare Veronica. She had a feeling her sister would not react well. It was quite an understatement, saying that Sirius was uncomfortable going through with this plan, even though he knew - he knew - that it'd be one hell of a goldmine. Who else could know as much as Narcissa did, while also being decidedly not homicidal? Sirius had wracked his brain trying to come up with an answer to that, but time and time again he'd honed right back in on Narcissa. It was slightly easier, granted, after she'd been such a heinous bloody bitch to him in Regulus' journal entry, but his mind kept going back to the day he'd bumped into her in Muggle London and they'd had... hardly a conversation, given that it was the two of them, but it'd been something and now it was throwing him all off, and this really, really wasn't a productive inner monologue he was carrying on. They had a job to do, and the Order would more than reap the benefits of it. Focus, Black. He and James apparated to the edge of the family grounds, towards the back of the property so they could (hopefully) catch Narcissa before she could spot them. He didn't want to think that he'd lose his resolve, if she did see them, but he hoped he wouldn't have to find out. "She's gotta be off by the cliffs," he said to James, keeping his voice low even though he was almost certain she was over by the water, as why the hell else would you come out here, other than to brood and contemplate and watch the waves crash below? "If we go around the grounds this way," he said, pointing ahead of them and to their right, "we should be able to see her - with her back to us - before she can see us." James nodded in response to Sirius' comments. He could tell his mate was worked up about something, and he had a pretty good idea what. He punched Sirius lightly in the shoulder, wand in hand while he did so, and then focussed. They had to get Narcissa, then get her to the safehouse for questioning, then get her back. There was a lot of getting to be done. "She'll be all right. She won't even remember, right? It's fine," James said softly, creeping through the trees and around a tombstone or two--creepy place, this--until he saw a figure standing near the edge of the cliff. "How ruddy dramatic of her," he whispered, rolling his eyes a bit. Without needing to say it out loud, James knew he'd stun her and Sirius would catch her. If Sirius was having second thoughts about it, James wasn't about to make him take out his own cousin. So, he crept a little closer, but the moment she caught them in her peripheral vision and began to turn, she wa already being hit by a stupefying curse. James was fast, and she was a socialite. She didn't know the first thing about duelling. Narcissa had just been standing there, staring thoughtfully into the fog and the waves, a frown etched into her pale, dainty, aristocratic features. She thought she'd seen something, and she'd turned, but she was hit by a panic enducing jet of red before she could see who was on the other side of the wand, and she collapsed. She didn't even have time to scream. "Dramatic is an understatement," Sirius said dryly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as well. It was something he'd probably do, given the right mood, but he didn't particularly want to admit that - not that James didn't already know, of course. He was still frowning when James crept closer, and his stomach gave a violent little twist when Narcissa began to turn towards them, but James was fast - and had perfect aim - and she was already collapsing before she'd even seen them. He moved quickly and caught her before she hit the ground, one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. "Does she eat?" he asked, mystified, as he carefully hoisted her up into his arms. He had the sudden insane urge to drag her around by her hair caveman style - it'd really be worth it, on one level - but he refrained from doing so. Probably not the best course of action, that, especially when he was already out of sorts about the whole thing. "Ready?" he asked, and at James' nod he apparated Narcissa and himself off of the windy cliffs and into the decidedly less windy basement of the safehouse. Since finalizing the purchase of the safehouse, Ed and Fabian were the only members of the Order outside of Alice and Stu who'd been to the place. Alice had sorted through the paperwork and done the legal sorts of things, then cast the first wards as she said she would. The place had been unoccupied, so it was move in ready the moment the pounds were handed over. Now Edgar and Fabian were milling about in the basement and Ed was dutifully avoiding the werewolf related shite, choosing instead to focus on the decidedly ugly wood paneling that lined the basement rec room's walls. "What colour would you even call that?" he asked out loud, face screwed up at the absurd shade of reddish brown. Or rather, the absurd shade of Questionable Baby Poo. The room itself was empty except for the two of them, a chair they were ready to bind Narcissa to, and the bottle of truth serum Ed had picked up from Emmeline earlier that day, after he'd gotten Sirius' owl. Fabian was leaning rather moodily against the wall, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It had been a rough couple of days and he wasn't much in the mood to see Sirius fucking Black again. He thought he was being pretty fucking mature still talking to him at all. Fabian didn't like being made out to be the bad guy. He wasn't a bad guy. For now though, he was doing his best to put it aside, because really, he half-thought Sirius disagreed just to be a prat. Fabian wouldn't put it past him. They had more important things to do today. And he was glad Ed hadn't said anything. Come to think, he wasn't exactly certain where his cousin stood on the issue of werewolves, but he found he didn't much care. At least not today, upon getting Sirius's owl. "...Dunno," he answered, eyeing the panelling for a moment. "Looks like rust or---" He was interrupted by the popopop! of multiple apparations and his attention was immediately on that the people in the basement. Well good, at least they hadn't fucked up. With one more flick of his wand, he set the silencing charms on the basement. Fabian didn't really think anyone else would be in the house to hear them... but just in case. "Put her in the chair," he motioned, stepping away from the wall. Sirius inwardly riled a bit when Fabian instructed him to put Narcissa in the chair, just because it was bloody Fabian, but given that he had his unconscious cousin in his arms, they clearly had bigger fish to fan. Fry? What the hell was that stupid muggle saying anyway? Still looking rather unhappy he carefully lowered Narcissa into the chair and bound her to it, being careful to keep her upright and... well, as comfortable as one could be, bound to a chair in the basement of the secret house that the quasi-secret resistance had purchased in order to get you to spill your guts about your own side. Yep, an interesting day, this was. Once Narcissa was secured he stepped back, arms crossing over his chest and frown still firmly in place as he gazed at her. "So what now? Pump her full of Veritaserum and get her to spill her deepest and darkest? How're we handling this?" "Well, I think it'll be easier to get her to take the Veritaserum while unconscious, and there's no reason not to give it to her," James said practically. It was true. They'd asked Dig. "She's probably going to scream us all deaf when she wakes up. Might as well do whatever we can to, uh, prolong the quiet time." He rubbed his hand through his hair, still kind of off balance from being one arm short. All his favourite gestures and habits were two handed, really, and a one-armed man just didn't look as cool. He couldn't even fold his arms over his chest and frown all disapproving like anymore. James put the unrelated thoughts out of his mind and surveyed Sirius, Edgar, and Fabian. He wore a grim expression as he rocked back on his heels, one hand stuffed into his pants pocket. "Well. We ready for this, men?" James asked. He'd never kidnapped and interrogated someone before. Edgar was decidedly nervous about this whole foray, and even more so now that Narcissa was right there in front of them and they had the upper-hand. Especially because this was Nacissa, and not only a relative he'd known his entire life, but they'd been something resembling friends in school, or at the very least, they'd had a great deal of respect for one another. He couldn't imagine what it would be to be in her place when she woke up, trapped in a strange place with three of her cousins, and James Potter. At least they were obliviating her. Either way, Ed knew he had to keep his head on straight, focus, and not waiver or change his mind halfway through things. This is what they were doing. They were committed to this. Narcissa had access to the sorts of information they needed. "Right," he said absently, looking and sounding more confused than nervous, pulling the vial of Veritaserum out of his shirt pocket, gesturing to Fabian to hold her head back before uncorking it to pour into her mouth. Fabian was quite a bit less nervous than everyone else seemed. At this point, he just wanted the information so they could keep planning. It was just one step on the way to something bigger and this was probably the least violent thing they'd be doing. When you were planning an assassination, it was hard to be too fussed with an interrogation that wasn't likely to be difficult. It was Narcissa. So he tilted her head back as Ed had motioned, keeping his focus right there until it was gone. When he stepped away, it was only to pulled out a dictaquill and sheet of parchment. He wanted all of this on record, so they didn't miss or forget a thing. "Here we go, gents," he said, pulling out his wand and then muttering: "Rennervate." Fog had been there when she went out, and there was fog now. But a different type of fog. Narcissa shook her head, trying to clear her fuzzy thoughts, as she came to. She couldn't move her hands or legs, and she felt the fear build up in her. She opened her eyes, finally getting them to focus, but before she could even taken her situation in properly, she began to pull at her hands. She realized after a moment that her legs were immovable as well. "What is going on? Let me go!" she demanded, looking around wildly until her eyes rested on Sirius. Oddly, this calmed her somewhat. Enough at least that she looked from him to Edgar Bones, of all people, and Fabian Prewett, and James Potter. Three cousins and the man who was responsible for Sirius' defection. She was able to gather her thoughts, taking a deep, if shaky, breath, and sitting up a little straighter. "If this is an intervention, you can just forget it. Don't you know I'm pregnant, you barbarians? Untie me at once." Sirius looked like he wanted to put his tail between his legs and scurry from the room, but to his credit he did neither (although really, the urge to transform and tear out the door seemed awfully tempting right about now). He felt a sudden pang of guilt when Narcissa's gaze first settled on him, that guilt lessened only slightly when she called them barbarians and mentioned something about an... intervention? "A what now?" he asked, before he could help himself. What the hell kind of intervention would they stage? A You're An Icy Bitch And Should Be Nicer intervention? Although he had to admit the idea of a Your Sister Is The AntiChrist And You Should Stop Associating With Her intervention had promise. "We won't hurt you," he said, shaking his head a little as he composed himself. "You or the baby." Maybe not all that easy to believe, when tied up like that, but Sirius hoped he could somehow get through to her. "You have my word - like you did before," he added pointedly. "Before? Oh, you mean before you kidnapped me and tied me to a--" Narcissa started. "Do calm down," James interrupted smoothly, not wanting to give her a chance to get into a stride. "We just have a few questions for you, that's all. Just a few simple questions. Let's start with something easy. What's your full name?" "Narcissa Isobel Malfoy, neƩ Black," Narcissa answered promptly, unable to stop herself, and then her eyes widened as she realized what they'd done. They were going to force her to betray everyone, everything. Her whole family. Her whole life. "Don't do this." James felt a pang of guilt, but he pushed it away and said, voice low, "Looks like it's working." Ed had caught himself taking a deep breath when Narcissa had woken up, but now he had switched to... vigilante mode? He was focused entirely on the situation at hand, at any rate. His arms were folded across his chest in the same way James had been lamenting only a few moments before, wand clasped tightly in his hand. "Who are Death Eaters that you know for certain?" he asked evenly. Narcissa tried to hold her breath, she tried to bite her tongue. But she wasn't a strong woman, not in the way that Bellatrix was. Bellatrix would never be in this position. "Bellatrix," she started, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to watch their faces as they made her give up everyone she cared about. Her family. "Lucius. Rodolphus. Rabastan." Their family. "Regulus." At that last one, Narcissa opened her eyes and glared at Sirius, but she couldn't stop talking. Not yet. There were still her best friends. "Alecto and Amycus. Rosalind." Others didn't matter as much to her, but which still hurt for her to betray. "Augustus Rookwood. Leoben Yaxley. Evan Rosier. Christian Avery. Thorfinn Rowle. Bartemius Crouch Jr. Severus Snape. Simon Gibbon. Orsino Avery. Festus Lestrange. Antonin Dolohov." Many of those names were men her father had been friends with, men whose secret he'd trusted with her, despite the fact that she wasn't a Death Eather, despite the fact that she was a woman, one who didn't fight. She was a Black, and her father had thought that was enough. Evidently, it wasn't. Others she'd learned through Bellatrix, or inadvertantly, or simply because she was who she was. There were others, she was sure, but she didn't know all of them. A great deal, yes, but not all. The potion let her quit talking, then, and she bowed her head slightly, shoulders tense. She wasn't stupid. She knew what it meant to be a traitor, unwilling or not. She knew there would be consequences if He found out, consequences even Bellatrix couldn't save her from. Perhaps she wouldn't even try, not if it was from Him. "Lord Voldemort," she finished with a snarl, wincing as the name fell out of her mouth. She never said it, never. Not out of awe, as Bellatrix, but out of terror. Fabian was quiet through all of that, just watching the Dictaquill race across the page as she talked. Merlin. He'd gone to school with loads of these people. Even his stomach knotted slightly upon hearing Sirius's brother's name, though he remained impassive. He felt stupid for half-wincing when she said his name, but he couldn't help it. Fabian swore he even saw the dictaquill hesitate. It could have just been his head playing tricks though. She finished and he let the silence sit for a moment before asking for the other important piece of information they needed. They could ask specifics about this list later, though he wasn't very fussed himself. "The Gala next month - what do you have planned for the venue and catering? Which companies are you using?" Sirius knew about his brother - he'd seen it, seen the Mark on him just the bloody night before, but he hadn't told anyone, much less heard it actually said aloud, too afraid to even say it to himself. When Narcissa then said Regulus' name and glared at him, he felt a wave of nausea hit him, his stomach flipping painfully at the idea of his brother actually being one of them. He hadn't fucking wanted it, but what did that matter now? He turned his back on Narcissa as she kept spilling names, barely paying attention as he braced his hands against the hideous paneling on the wall, head hanging down in an effort to calm himself. He did, however, raise his head when Narcissa clearly fucking said Severus Snape, his gaze shooting immediately to James. They'd known it, from the very fucking beginning. But that was another blow up for another time, and he tried to make himself focus as he rejoined the group, raking a hand irritably through his hair. "I... what? You're asking about catering?" Narcissa replied, and she would have scoffed at the change in tactics, but she was still reeling too much from the previous question. After a very short--too short--moment, the potion worked it's magic and she felt compelled to add, "I just got back from my honeymoon. I haven't finalized anything yet. It will be at Magisterium Park again, which you'd know if you read the paper, and I will likely use Carver & Co High Tea Caterers because they're specialists and have a fantastic reputation, or I will go with Hawthorne Fine Catering, which I have used in the past." She blinked after she finished, and then took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out exactly what they wanted with her catering plans of all things, and just trying to catch her breath. It almost knocked the breath out of her to have no control over her own voice, her own words. Narcissa prised her words, and now she felt robbed of them as they poured out of her without her permission. "What about clean up? Staff? Entertainment?" James asked, though it was clear he was distracted. His attention was on where Sirius stood and faced the wall. He felt bad for his mate, and he wondered if Sirius had known anything about Regulus being a Death Eater before that. He had a feeling the reaction would be slightly more fantastic if he hadn't known, but that didn't make it any less sad. Narcissa hated her lack of power in this situation, and her voice rose as she all but snapped, "I. Don't. Know. I haven't planned anything yet. I have pages of plans and no decisions yet. Haven't you ruined enough of my life for now? Don't you know what they'll--" Narcissa stopped herself before she finished that sentence, thinking of all the arguments she'd had with Sirius. How many times had she sworn Bellatrix would never hurt her, sworn she wasn't in danger and could never be? She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, wishing her hands were free so she could curl them around her gently rounded stomach as protection against the vague worries she was feeling more for her child than her own safety. It was a strange sensation to love something more than she loved herself, but her child wasn't even born yet, and already Narcissa felt as though she had put herself into second place in her own life, something which those around her did and she hated, but which now didn't seem so bad. "Are you finished?" she asked softly. No, they weren't finished. Not quite. Edgar did feel bad now, understanding, at least, what it meant to be loyal and have that taken away from you. The tone of her voice shook him slightly, but he forced himself to remember that they were the Good Guys. If it was Calypso in the reverse situation, the Death Eaters wouldn't be so kind. They'd kill her. Narcissa might not be innocent, but at the very least she didn't mask herself and go on killing parades with her batshite sister. "What do you know about what happened in Hogsmeade? Was it intended to be a trap?" The four men in the room were in decent shape in spite what had happened to them during that attack. Edgar still had the bandages, but there was only one small one visible on his face beside his eye. James was the most noticeably injured, given he was short an arm. Fabian's injuries weren't visible and Sirius had been one of the lucky ones that night. Narcissa's eyes stung as she fought to keep back the words, and she struggled against the potion. Again, she considered biting her tongue, hard enough to stop her from speaking, but she knew she couldn't. "My sister planned it. She turned my wedding shower into an alibi, and she and the others tried to kill the rebels, to kill anyone who got in their way," Narcissa said, choking on her own words. Though it was likely nothing they didn't know, every word felt like a personal insult to her sister. "I was so angry at her, I ignored her the whole week, and it wasn't just because of my shower, because she could've gotten my husband killed a week before my wedding. It was because it horrible, what they did. What they do. It's senseless. It's not what it was meant to be, destroying wizarding culture needlessly, and burning witches and wizards alive inside shops. Anyone could've been there, anyone. She set it all up to kill all of you, but look, you're still alive and dozens of others, hundreds likely if you count the attacks on London, they're all dead, and..." Narcissa stopped then, telling herself she'd answered the question. She had, she didn't need to say anymore. She clamped her mouth shut and raised her chin high and looked down her nose at them. Let them call her a hypocrite. She may not believe in what they did or how they did it, but she would never forsake her family. She would never turn against them or walk away or leave them behind, not like Sirius had, not like Andromeda had. She loved her family, and she was devoted, and that was as simple as that. It didn't mean she didn't hate it sometimes too. Fabian remained unmoved. It was hard to care much about how they were defiling her loyalty, or whatever shit she thought they were doing. Every Order member in this room had nearly died because of her perfect fucking society and he wasn't much bothered with her hysterics. She wouldn't remember any of this anyway, so Fabian thought she was getting out of this dumb lucky. She wouldn't know enough to feel guilty about her betrayal later. "And You-Know-Who's best mates, then. Who's closest to him, that you know of?" he asked, glancing down at the dictaquill again to make sure it was still scratching across the parchment. "My sister. Bellatrix is very close. And Rodolphus as well," Narcissa said, giving up on trying to stop herself. She wouldn't succeed anyway. "His father, Festus. All of the fist ones to join him, really. Oren Rosier, Roman Mulciber, Orsino Avery, Augustus Rookwood, and Geoffery Nott. All of my father's friends. Oh, and Rabastan. I'm not sure how he got in, but he did. Happy? Now you know everything." Edgar wouldn't exactly call it happy, but satisfied for the time being? Yes. They'd asked enough questions and collected more than enough information. She wouldn't know the inner-workings of the Death Eaters or what they were planning next, so it seemed redundant to ever bother. Besides that, what Emmeline had given him wasn't a large dosage, so its effects would wear off sooner rather than later. "Alright then," Ed said quietly, unfolding his arms and moving toward her, silently casting a memory modifier. They had talked about obliviating in the beginning but Edgar didn't trust himself where that was concerned. While Stu had volunteered to do it for them, deciding to ask questions about the gala would mean telling Stu about their plan, and Edgar didn't want to involve more people than necessary. Concentrating he picked the evening out piece by piece, covering everything over so that it would just seem like Narcissa passed out on the cliffs. It was vague enough to be confusing, but not confusing enough to cause Narcissa to take a closer look, or have someone peel her memories apart. Finishing he knocked her out, not with a stunner, but with a simple spell that would allow her to wake up on her own. "You've got about ten minutes," he told James and Sirius. "Just put her back right where you found her." Sirius nodded, staying uncharacteristically quiet as he moved to stand beside the chair, releasing Narcissa from her bindings so he could pick her up again. It felt rather bizarre, to be holding an unconscious Narcissa (again) after what they'd just done, but he wasn't much in the mood to dwell on anything right now, wanting nothing more than to escape... well, somewhere. He wasn't sure where yet, but he needed some time alone. "Right back on the cliffs," he finally agreed, glancing at James. He didn't need to say a word as he apparated Narcissa and himself back to the grey, misty cliffs in Wales. He knew they didn't have much time so he set her down as carefully as he could manage, far away enough from the edge of the cliffs so that she wouldn't hurt herself (or die, really, given they were cliffs) and then straightened up, turning his attention back to James. "Well, that's done," he said, frowning. "I'm gonna head back to my flat, for a bit," he decided. "I'll be around if you need anything." He gazed at James for a moment before he apparated to his until-now-abandoned flat, and while he felt a bit guilty for just splitting on James like that, he knew James would understand. Indeed, James followed Sirius to the cliffs, just in case, and watched Sirius set Narcissa down, one hand stuck in his hair as he tried to figure out what to say. He could tell Sirius was upset, but James wasn't sure soothing him with it was just a spot of interrogation, no harm done, right? would help. "Mate..." he started, but Sirius was gone. James sighed, looked down at Narcissa's prone body, and then disapparated back home. There was nothing else he could do here. |