Who: Bella and Draco Where: Ollivander's house; Budapest When: 21 January, 1998. What: The getting of information. AKA The Reason Why Tracey's Present Is Late. Rating: Oh, so tame. G. Except, PG. B/c Rachel sez. And I listen! >:D Status: Complete
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The chime of the Hungarian clocktower resonated through the square, prompting the dark-haired woman to glance upward to the gilded hands. She had owled the boy a portkey mere minutes ago, deeming the risk of his being unwittingly followed via apparition too dangerous. The time that had elapsed was short, but she was not a patient woman and expected him to be prompt, lest her opinion of him grow sour. It was essential that they begin their search early, for they would not be leaving Budapest until the location of the Horcrux had been discerned.
Draco materialised before the last chime struck the hour and with hand outstretched, offered his aunt a key upon the palm of his hand. "To his house," he said quietly, and dropped his eyes to gaze at their surroundings. The quiet street, bordered by tall poplars, provided an ample screen and he nodded.
Bellatrix was pleasantly surprised by the boy's mild demeanor. He had assured her that his loyalty would be proven, but his past resistance had led her to wonder if he would be difficult in providing that which she required. A simple gesture hardly elicited her full trust, but it was certainly a start. Long strides carried her toward the house in a billow of silk, merely assuming that he would keep up, lest he be left behind. When she reached the door, she turned the key in the lock and opened it, sparing Draco a glance over her shoulder. "After you," She stated calmly, entirely willing to allow the boy to go first, just in case someone had discovered the body before they.
Entering the room with a light, stealthy step and his wand at the ready he could already scent the still clinging odour of decaying body. But ... "It was there," he said to her, maintaining his calm and pointing toward an old chair. "Right there."
The sight - or lack thereof - prompted an arch of a dark eyebrow, momentarily questioning whether Draco had deceived her. But the stench of death met her nostrils before she could make such an accusation, assuring her that someone had indeed recently died in this room. "Who did you inform of his death and location, Draco?" Her voice was calm, but edged with expectation.
"The Dark Lord, of course," he replied, his mind already cranking out a solution to this mild problem. Search the house. Without another thought to Bellatrix, he began to rifle through the shelves and tabletops, looking for anything that could be deemed important.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes heavily just as Draco turned away. As though she hadn't discerned that much. Still, his inclination was a sound one; surely there would be a clue somewhere in the house as to the location of the Horcrux or his whereabouts just prior to his death. Unlike Draco, however, she thought it unlikely that the man would be so foolish as to leave something on a shelf or table, instead turning her attention to the floors and walls, certain that there would be a hidden compartment somewhere.
The shelves were stacked out with ledgers and so he dug, making sure to look through each page. " ... reciepts, accountings, all the trappings of an old man's business."
Bellatrix paused in her appraisal of the walls, ears perking up at one of the mentioned items. "Receipts?" It was a foolish inclination, but one that had to be followed nonetheless. "To what date do they extend?"
He rifled through the multitudinous amount of paper, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to decipher the old man's shaking scrawl. " ... hmmm. Oh, Aunt. Come here." He sat with the ledger in his lap. "They extend to the day before he dissapeared."
Abandoning the task, she moved to the boy, eyes intently focused on the ledger perched atop his lap. "The last entry. What does it say?"
Flipping to the end of the book, his eyes lit with a predatory smile and he turned the paper up toward his aunt. "Neville Longbottom."
Her expression could only be interpreted in stages; surprise, first, followed by confusion, incredulity, and finally the dawning of realization. "He said it was safe, didn't he?" She wondered aloud. Of course! What better way to secure it than to sell it in its assumed form? And to give it to a student, who would be presumed to be inaccessible. "Longbottom." Her murmur was almost sensuous, enticed by the memories that swirled through her head. The screams of his tortured parents had kept her from succumbing on so many nights in Azkaban, and her loneliness following Rodolphus's reincarceration had been augmented with the memory of how the chubby little boy's cries upon receiving the same curse. "Oh, what an unexpected delight!"
"It makes sense," he said softly, and pressed the receipt into Bellatrix's palm. "Perfect sense. We would never find it, he said."
It was with great difficulty that she pulled herself from her reverie enough to process Draco's words, fingers closing around the receipt once her eyes had skimmed over it. Slowly, they lifted to meet her nephew's gaze. "Clearly, men grow foolish in their old age," She purred dangerously, enticed by the unexpected turn of events.
His smile widened across the pale, angular features. " ... surely the Dark Lord shall be pleased."
"Naturally." In a smooth, seamless movement, she deposited the receipt in her inner cloak pocket, leaving only the matter of Draco to deal with. Her glance was long and appraising, exercising leisure in coming to a conclusion. She would not be satisfied until he committed an atrocity in her presence, but he had done well to temper her overwhelming disdain. "He will hear of your compliance in this matter," Bellatrix allowed, graciously.
Draco hated that decorum required him to defer to her; to be below her in little less than seniority. However, he smiled through his gritted teeth and shut the book with a puff of dust. "Thank you for your kindness, Aunt. Should there be anything else than this? I think that the receipt is enough to ... imagine that it lies with him. Ollivander's last customer. And it seems, a wand of a particularly old variety."
"The book," She stated shortly, unfazed by his hasty action. "Just in case Ollivander had an ounce of intelligence left in his brain and sought to throw us off." Fingers reached out to nonchalantly procure the ledger from his lap, tapping her wand to it until it shrunk significantly enough to fit in her pocket. "Very well, Draco," Bellatrix offered with a dismissive wave, sufficently placated to not effect further torment. "You may go."
He hated that she ordered him around like she would one of her lapdogs. But, with a silent nod of assent, he rose and twirled his wand in the tips of his fingers. "Aunt," was said softly, with his wand raised. "Perhaps you should consider setting fire to the house." And then a snap before he Disapparated.
It was not often that Bellatrix adhered to suggestions by other Death Eaters, particularly when her nephew was concerned, but she had few qualms with that particular one. The sheer delight of burning down a house aside, it would destroy all traces of evidence concerning what they had taken and left behind, and it was beyond logic for anyone to equate a burned house with a Horcrux. Indeed, the benefits unquestionably outweighed any possible consequences.
"Such a pity," She remarked wryly to the chair where the old man had set prior to his expiration. His body no longer remained, but the scent of his death still tainted the air. "Even in death, you failed to secure that which you so richly treasured." A flick of her wand set the wooden chair ablaze - the perfect conductor for a lovely fire. She smiled as the battered piece of furniture was consumed by flames, sleek black stilettos stepping backward to avoid the rapid spread of the blaze. "Rest assured, poor Mr. Ollivander - it will survive, but I cannot say the same for the boy who wields it." High peals of laughter began to bubble up from her throat, cut short only by the roaring fire and the swift crack of disapparition.