Who: Bellatrix, Lucius, and Damocles Belby. What: My name is Lucibella Blackfoy. You grope my wifster, prepare to die! Follows this entry and this log. When: December 2nd, just after nightfall. Where: Belby's home Rating: Definitely R for violence - mostly implied rather than explicit, but nonetheless of a disturbing nature.
As the last glow of sunset gave way to shadow, Lucius arrived behind a row of hedges in a quiet street, a hood over his bright hair and practical dark robes in place of his usual dress ones. He didn't doubt Bellatrix would be along soon, if she wasn't skulking about somewhere already; she was even more eager than he to get to the evening's task, he knew.
"And he arrives," The dry comment came from the shadow skulker. She had departed even earlier than he, desperate to at least catch a glimpse of the abode of the man who would not survive the night. His insult to her sister had plagued her for a great many reasons, among them her genuine affection for Narcissa, her own pride as a Black, and the fact that he had endangered the likelihood of one of the Dark Lord's missions being completed.
No trace of guilt or fear was written on her features as she observed her brother-in-law, her pale complexion somehow seeming even whiter against the pure black of her robes and hood.
"I thought you might be here already." Lucius smiled faintly. "Had a good look, have you?"
"Enough, yes," Bellatrix said shortly, turning to regard the house for a moment more. To say that she was anxious and eager was a great understatement - under normal circumstances, she would have engaged in a bit more banter, but in this matter, she forewent any such amusement and spoke icily. "Enough chit-chat, Lucius - it's time."
"Yes, I rather think so. Shall we go in by the garden, or forego such subtleties and simply stroll through the front door?" Lucius drew out his wand, his face settling into a grim, focused expression.
"I would suggest the garden, but the aim isn't exactly to stage a suicide, is it?" The worst that any neighbor could say in retrospect was that there had been two unidentified individuals at his door at the time. Were they to enter through another door, the front door would prove a viable escape option as well. It was with this in mind that she discarded subtlety and merely strode toward the front door, assuming that he would follow. A hand lifted to knock on the door, only to pause upon realizing that the man was likely to run in fear if he were first met with her face.
A wry smile resided on her lips as she stepped slightly to the side and cast a glance toward Lucius. "Perhaps you should knock," She remarked lightly, "After all, you have met him before."
He snorted. Knocking hadn't been exactly what he had in mind, but then Bellatrix did have some strange fancies, at times.
"What, and wait for some ill-trained house elf to run off and ask her master if we can come in? I doubt he has many safeguards, imagining himself safe..." He tried the handle and, finding it locked, "Alohomora."
Bellatrix spared her companion a mildly irritated glance. "I wasn't aware that the man had servants," She replied tersely, promptly turning the doorknob and stepping into the house. Lucius was certainly right about overt safeguards; there was no blaring alarm or flashing lights or anything of such a dramatic nature. Pleased, she merely turned to face him, an expectant look on her face.
Lucius was fairly certain he recalled, at the very least, where Belby's study was--where he conducted business--and the stairs to the upper floor were opposite the study door, if he was not mistaken. "Shall we start looking in the study?" Without waiting for an answer, he led the way from the foyer into the next room.
As a rule, Bellatrix did take kindly to being led anywhere, as such presumption as an affront to her independence and capability. At the moment, however, the two were allied in purpose and she could not deny that he possessed more knowledge of the home than she. It was thus with an uncharacteristic lack of resistance that she followed him, each step into the house only increasing her desire for blood and vengeance.
Having no scheduled visitors this evening, Damocles Belby was quite content to eat his soup and bread and enjoy a nice glass of wine in the dining room. A cold breeze from the entryway caught his attention, his head rising to glance in that direction.
The study was dimly lit as the two Death Eaters entered. A few potion bottles sat neatly in a holder on the desk along with papers in several piles. Bookshelves took up most of the wall space, but a small section held a framed pictures, including one of Damocles receiving his Order of Merlin.
Lucius glanced at his sister-in-law. "Not in here, at least. His notes may be, but we should probably off the man before we go searching, don't you agree?"
"Why search when he'll soon be begging to let him tell us where they are?" Her voice was edged in pure malice, perfectly complementing her small, eerie smile. "Show me where he is, Lucius, and I'll make him bleed the location of his notes."
"As the lady wishes." Lucius smirked faintly, stepping out of the study again. "Shall we try the bedrooms next, or finish this floor?"
The thought of walking in on the old man in his pajamas was entirely unappetizing, her nose wrinkling slightly in disgust. She'd do it if she had to, but she would much rather eliminate all other possibilities first. "I don't imagine he'd be asleep at this hour - let us remain on this floor for now."
"Very well. I believe that's the dining room, through there." He strode through the doors brashly, his wand still at the ready.
Spoon halfway to his mouth, Belby stopped, staring in shock at the two people who were suddenly standing in his dining room. For a moment it was as if time stood still for him, and then he threw the bowl of hot soup on Lucius and pushed back from the table, sprinting for the Conservatory even as he reached into his jacket for his wand.
To expect more harm from the male assassin was not unusual, but it was a mistake Damocles Belby would soon regret. Bellatrix was on him in an instant, long legs easily bridging the distance between them on account of her lithe form and his poor fitness. She wasted little time in throwing the full weight of her body into his, tackling him to the floor and immediately straddling his back. Quick as she had been, she knew that she did not possess the strength to pin him indefinitely, instantly pointing her wand at his throat.
"Scenario," She began merrily, "Two Death Eaters invade your home while you're indulging in supper. Who do you direct your sole act of offense against before dashing for cover? The handsome diplomat?" The tip of her wand pressed painfully against his windpipe, severely restricting his airflow. "Or the woman who tortured the Longbottoms to insanity without batting an eyelash?"
"She did," Lucius observed dryly, brushing down his soup-splattered robes with a faintly disgusted expression. "It was in the Daily Prophet, even. Ah, but I don't suppose you could afford the paper back then, could you? Being as it was before you came into all that new money."
He finally muttered a half-hearted cleaning spell--not something he was called upon to do often--and turned his attention more fully to the matter at hand. "Shall I petrify him, Bellatrix, or would you prefer him wriggling?"
Belby struggled, knowing exactly who Bellatrix Lestrange was, since her name and picture had often graced the pages of the Daily Prophet in the last few years. He would have targeted her, except that she was behind Malfoy, and he had gone for the first person his soup would reach. This was bad. Very bad. Death Eaters were in his home - Death Eaters whose wife and sister he had just been trying to shag. He would have cried out, but he could barely breath, let alone scream.
"It's so much more delightful when they writhe," Bellatrix purred darkly in response, thus far thwarting the efforts of the struggling man beneath her by holding him down with her full weight. "You would do well to understand that this is a game, that there rules to follow, and that I enforce them." The threatening nature of her words belied her deceptively sweet tone, clearly amused by Belby's predicament.
"If you attempt to make a run for it, I will kill you without a second thought. As a matter of fact, I may kill you anyway," She mused, "But your only chance is to follow my demands in the mere hope that you might survive." She jabbed her wand harshly inward, completely cutting off his air for a moment in warning, before relinquishing the cruelty of her grip just enough to permit him a response. "Do we understand one another, darling?"
"Yes," Damocles replied, his voice raspy and more than a little bitter. "If this is about your wife, Malfoy, nothing happened. I assumed she'd left you, since she came to me."
"This is about a number of things, dear Monsieur Belby, though my wife is certainly one of them. And believe you me, I know precisely what did and did not happen in that regard. Not the brightest wand in the shop, are you, cosying up to the wife of an escaped Death Eater? Nevermind that, for now."
Lucius strolled idly closer, standing beside the man's head and looking down at him placidly. "My particular interest, at the moment, is your research. In specific, that which led up to this famous potion of yours. The triumphs, the failures, the theories...all of that...alchemical excitement. Your notes, in short."
"Such a shame," Bella sighed, "You could have relinquished them painlessly and in far more amiable company. Instead, you couldn't keep it in your trousers, and it is your lechery that has stolen you from the companionship of a beautiful woman and landed you beneath me." It was a sad story, but not too sad, for she soon shrugged unsympathetically.
"C'est la vie! Unless you wish matters to become worse, I would suggest you comply with Lucius's demands."
His notes?! Why would they want those? The Wolfsbane potion was already available, and the rest of his notes just documented his horrendous failures. But even as those thoughts poured through his mind, the former Ravenclaw realized that for someone who had a particularly nasty werewolf at their disposal (and possibly more where that one came from), and didn't care about morals… ah yes, quite handy to have indeed.
"Afraid I can't do that." A Gryffindor Belby wasn't, but even he couldn't just hand over his notes. His fingers reached out for the wand that had slipped free of them, just inches away on the floor. If only he could reach it…
"Accio wand," Lucius said curtly, and it leaped into his grasp, disappearing into a robe pocket. "You won't be needing that for this little chat." He turned an eye on Bellatrix, musingly. "Perhaps we should offer the man some incentive?"
"It seems we'll have to," Her sigh was one of resignation, but she hesitated only a moment in withdrawing her wand from his throat and rising to her feet. Any relief he might have experienced at reclaiming his freedom was to be swiftly depleted, however. "
"You really haven't taken the Daily Prophet articles to heart, have you, Mr. Belby?" Mock sorrow filled her voice, fingers slipping within the inside of her boot to retrieve a long, gleaming object. "If you had, you'd know exactly what a mistake it is to resist."
The words had scarcely left her lips before the razor-sharp stiletto met the flesh above each tender ankle in clean slice, deeply severing the fragile ligaments to the bone, effectively eliminating walking as an option.
Belby screamed and managed to pull away with a rush of adrenaline, but couldn't get far. "You're mad! Nobody will be able to control them! They'll kill all of you as well!"
"I hardly see why you're so concerned about that." Lucius smirked and strolled to the window, looking out idly on the evening, as if this were the blandest of social calls. In truth he found all the blood rather crass and messy, and wished to keep it off of his shoes. "In fact, all the more reason. Give over your notes to the nasty Death Eaters and teach them a lesson."
"Stubborn, isn't he?" The screams were music to her ears, ringing merrily in her head like jolly Christmas Carols. Alas, Mr. Belby was not destined to enjoy the upcoming holidays. When he resisted despite his incapacitation, she licked the blood from the stained stiletto and sheathed it in her boot once more. Procuring the paring knife she had brandished for Lucius earlier, she kicked Belby hard in the side with a sharp stiletto heel, forcibly rolling him onto his back.
"I'll give you one more chance, Mr. Belby," She warned, kneeling beside him and holding the blade firmly against an altogether more delicate region. "Where...are...the notes?"
Better a quick death, thought Belby - or maybe it was just stupidity. "You know, maybe I was trying to shag the wrong Black sister. You're quite the looker when you're displeased."
Rare astonishment formed on Bella's regal features at the man'saudacity. It seemed he wanted to die - but she wasn't about to give him the pleasure of a quick demise. Without another word, she slashed the knife mercilessly over the vulnerable skin, effortlessly emasculating him and rising to her feet to avoid the spurting blood.
"I'm afraid you won't be shagging anybody anymore, darling," She sing-songed, "I can leave you here to bleed to death in agony for what will seem like hours, or you can tell me the location of the notes and suffer a quick death at Lucius's hands. It's your decision."
Lucius continued looking out the window--not that he had much pity for the man, but it still wasn't a sight he was particularly keen on witnessing. "I would really recommend the latter, Mr. Belby."
There wasn't really much of a choice to be made, despite the fact that he was feeling dizzy as he screamed in a mixture of horror and pain. "The study," he cried out. "Safe, behind the picture."
Plucking her trophy from the ground and depositing it in the pocket of her cloak, she gestured nonchalantly to the man writhing on the floor. "As promised," She said dismissively, the once delightful screams now beginning to bore her. "Finish him off however you like. I'll be in the study."
And without another word, Bellatrix strolled gracefully from the room as though nothing unusual had occurred - or remained in her pocket.
Lucius waited to turn until she had left the room, concealing his distaste. "A sad state of affairs, really. Your knowledge might have been a great aid to the Dark Lord, but instead you chose this....pathetic fate. Well, goodnight, Belby. We shan't miss you." He drew his wand out of his cane again, and aimed it very calmly at the bloody mess of a man on the floor. "Avada Kedavra."