corbina lestrange is having a very bad day (writingdesk) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-11-22 00:42:00 |
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Jo had never visited Azkaban with this frequency, typically eschewing the prison-style jailer-keeper relationships for fare far more active. But she supposed she was becoming rather routine (if Azkaban could be called anything but) since the Dementors merely floated by, content to let her - an enforcer of the law - pass. As the blustering northern wind chapped her cheeks scarlet, she climbed through the highest opening in the prison and beheld the tableau before her with some sense of nostalgic familiarity.
Ah, but Rodolphus was not to be her quarry today. Walking by his cell, trailing the tips of her fingers along each bar, she stood outside of the other Lestrange's new abode. True to her orders, she beheld Corbina with clinical interest and shifted a rather large, dusty tome beneath her arm. "Well," was low and fueled by amusement. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."
Fingertips upon his prison bars caught his attention first; Josephine. Back for more and so soon? He'd warned her and this time -- this time she was pushing toward Corbina's cell. If he'd been blessed with hackles, they'd have stood at full attention, and within seconds, he was away from his bed, face dark with displeasure through the thick bars that separated him from very, very tempting prey. "Touch my sister and I will tear you apart, Josephine."
In theory, Corbina supposed that Azkaban was really all that she could have asked for. It was quiet, she was left alone with her thoughts, she wasn't constantly being nagged to see suitors she disliked or made to attend tea parties filled with vapid conversation. Her brother was just across the hall if she were in need of conversation. It was more privacy than she ever could have dreamed of.
Things never did turn out like they were supposed to. She hadn't spoken much since they'd been condemned to Azkaban, fifteen years of punishment for a crime she didn't commit. Corbina didn't have much to say. She was cold. She was tired. She was angry at Rodolphus for getting himself thrown in jail to get Marius out, even if it was for the good of the family line. She was angry at those still on the outside for not rescuing them yet. She was angry at herself for being just a girl, a girl who was too tall and too smart with imperfect eyebrows who didn't matter in the long run of this game, to the cause. Marius and Astra were already married. The seasons still changed. The world obviously went on without her. But that was life, and she'd accepted it long ago. Unfortunately, there was simply nothing else that she could dwell on within these walls.
She'd started biting her nails. Mother would never have approved.
The sound of someone walking outside, though, caused her to stir. It wasn't a dementor, and she knew she wasn't hearing things yet (Corbina suspected it was still too soon for hallucinations). She looked at the girl with veiled interest from her spot on her bed....wooden plank...thing, recognising her as the woman who'd entered Rodolphus's cell last night before she'd blocked the way. The sound of her brother growling from across the hall echoed through the prison a moment later. "Oh. Josephine is it then?" Corbina asked, her tone flat and bored. She gestured with a slight wave of her hand to the rest of the cell. "Welcome to the abode."
Rodolphus's irritated voice blew through her conscious attempt to block him from her concentration. She certainly didn't under-estimate Corbina, she certainly wouldn't give her the pleasure of a bone grinding fight. This was not Rodolphus and she was only too keenly aware.
"You and what army?" she replied breezily for the sake of Rodolphus, before unlocking Corbina's door and stepping through with the same fluidity she had shown the night before. But this time the key went into her jacket pocket and the book on the floor between them. "I have to say I've been interested to know you for a long time, Corbina. You're an interesting figure, at least to me."
She paused. "Are you cold, how is the food? Are you given any specific pasttimes?"
"I don't need an army to get to you, Josephine. I will ruin you and I will take my time if you lay one mudblood finger on her." He didn't move from his cell door; if he'd had the power, he would have torn the bars apart and dragged Jo out by the hair, but he'd have to wait. All eyes were on Corbina, now, darkness mingled with possessiveness and worry. His threats were not idle, but he had no power of immediacy with which to protect his sister.
"I see that you and my brother have already met," Corbina noted once Rodolphus had quieted himself. There would be no need for additional introductions then. (See, mother? She could be just as good a hostess as Chloris.) She continued to study the woman, this Josephine, never raising from her seat on the bed. She would not rise for some mudblood who'd likely had a part in getting her unjustly imprisoned. Her accent was French. Now that she'd thought about it, Corbina was almost positive that she'd heard Marius speak about her before. "And am I? I'm sure that Marius could have arranged a playdate if you were interested before now. I'm afraid I don't have much in the ways of entertainment in here. Do they not keep copies of our daily itineraries at the Ministry for you to peruse?"
A shudder passed through her body as she heard Rodolphus speak, promising what could only eventually come to pass. She put him from her mind, however, to focus on Corbina.
Sliding down the wall, she sat opposite the girl and toed the book closer to her. She wasn't necessarily trying to be kind - the literature was bait and she was sure the girl knew it, but she didn't care. She could scent intellectual starvation on the air. It was like mould covering them all.
"I thought you might like something with which to engage your time." Of course, what did she choose but a throughly Muggle book. An old favourite of her mother's: Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own.
"I sincerely hope that is not a library book," Corbina replied, never breaking eye contact with Jo as she slid the book across the floor. "I'm not sure when the last time is that they swept in here. You wouldn't want to have to pay a fine, I'm sure."
"Certainly not." She smiled brilliantly. "It's a gift."
"Most people hand gifts to the receiver, rather than sliding them across the floor with one's foot," she noted, her tone not revealing any of the suspicion she had in it. "And what have I done to earn such a present?"
"It's not what you have done, Corbina - can I call you Corbina? - it's what you will do." Pausing, she drew her legs beneath her and leaned forward, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "There's more where that came from, too. Maybe even a commution of your sentence, should you prove ... cooperative."
So now their desperation had manifested itself in bribery. Cute. "Ah, will I?" Corbina asked, a slight smirk on her lips. They were not even going about this creatively. "I'm not dumb, Josephine. If you remember correctly, I just received fifteen years in Azkaban because of that fact. I believe that your Ministry is realising that it's locked up innocent people. I don't know what game you are attempting to play, but I don't want to be a part of it."
There was derision in her voice as she rose to her feet and dusted the damp grime from her trousers.
"Is martyrdom genetic in your family? Do you lot enjoy spitting on a chance to escape something you will certainly never return from the same as when you first came in." The latter was not a question. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're innocent in this place, it doesn't matter who you are. There is only here and there. It's called sensory deprivation, Corbina. You won't sing the same tune after a year."
Hello there, soapbox. "I see," she said quietly, watching as Jo rose to her feet. Corbina was taller than her; she could tell that just from looking. She liked that fact, even if Corbina chose to remain seated. She wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated by some Ministry mudblood. This would be handled on her terms. "How could I cooperate, then?"
Simply put, "Give me names of Death Eaters and if they check out, we'll be willing to make concessions."
A pause. "I... I can't," Corbina frowned, glancing out through the bars of her cell across the hall to Rodolphus, emotion creeping into her voice. "They'd never... if I did, I couldn't..." she trailed off, looking away again, down at the book, down at the floor, her hair falling into her face.
She could muster some sympathy for this girl: it was a shite yarn she was spinning, full of double-speak and with apocalyptic consequences should she decide to act favourably for herself. "I don't need to express the isolation here, or the way fifteen years will grow it."
"I know, I just..." Corbina's voice faded again as she pushed her hair back, another quick glance to her brother's cell assisting the sense of finality that would come with admitting the truth. "All right," she sighed, swallowing hard and scooting closer to the edge of the bed, rubbing at her eyes before looking up at Jo. "Black... Sirius Black. James Potter, Lily Potter," The list came quicker now, with what maybe could have been mistaken as the beginnings of tears merely a devious glint in Corbina's eyes, "Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew Agnes O'Hare Dorcas Meadowes. Do you need more?" she asked innocently.
A sharp bark of laughter resounded across the hall, and Rodolphus's massive frame removed itself from the barred entrance, now a mere shadow at the opposing wall. Oh Corbina; would she never grow out of playing with her food?
One half step from the wall was all that separated her from Corbina as she reached back and brought her palm swift upon her cheek.
"You little cunt, you can rot in here."
Corbina's cheek stung, although it was nothing that she wasn't able to deal with. She turned slowly to face Jo again, smiling sweetly up at her. "Now that wasn't very nice of you."
She hit her again, one for each side, as she never felt well by doing her work in halves. A quick bend retrieved the book from the floor and as she tucked it in her jacket, she shook her head slowly.
"You're not as smart as they say you are. I won't offer again. So rot and come out in fifteen years a sexless hag. That's what your brother condemned you to."
"And please, continue fighting the good fight, you over-sexed mudblood whore," Corbina spat back, bringing her hand up to the side of her face gingerly, the latter of the two assaults more painful than the former. "Just because you don't like someone's answers does not mean that they're wrong."
There was nothing left to say. These people - Merlin help her, were they actually human? - would not even help themselves. Quietly quitting Corbina's cell, she locked the door and turned upon Rodolphus, her rage mounting as she stared at him through the bars and thrust the book at him. It clattered onto the floor, spine broken and pages akimbo.
But she was done. Damn it, she was done. Without another glance at stupid Corbina and her dangerous, dangerous brother, she flung herself toward the stairs. There would not be a second time.
As Josephine retreated from his sister's cell, Rodolphus peered out at her from his own corner, a vague mockery of a smile corrupting his lips. "That's two," he rumbled, and said nothing more.