Marlene Lupin is plotting her revenge (on_the_wall) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-02-08 22:11:00 |
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All in all, Quentin was quite impressed with his restraint. A natural Gryffindor, it had not been his initial inclination to keep silent - he knew that whoever this woman was, it was not who she was claiming, and he would've taken the greatest pleasure in discovering precisely why she was attending a Malfoy dinner under his surname. But the more pragmatic side of him -in other words, the side that so rarely got an airing- realised that unveiling an imposter flaunting his name with gay abandon in society circles might cause more damage to his family than to whoever she was. And Quentin was certain that, whatever the end result of this evening, he was going to cause her some damage. More through force of will than anything else, he'd convinced her to allow him to escort her home - which, above anything else, suggested to Quentin that "Athena" didn't have the brains necessary to survive in a family as cut-throat as the Bletchleys had once been. Things had mellowed now but, like an old manticore, each member of the family retained the sting that had made their social climb possible. "So," he said as they crunched their way down the gravel pathway. "I think that all went fairly well, don't you? Nobody embarrassed or anything...which isn't something you can often say at a Malfoy function." Marlene was also showing far more restraint than normal for a Gryffindor, considering if she was able to react as she wanted, Quentin would be getting kicked in the kneecap and Marlene would be apparating the hell out of there asap. However, she had no idea if the guys were even out of the house yet, and there was no way in hell that she was going to do anything to potentially put them in any more danger than she already had that night. She also had a feeling that if she went for her wand, things were going to get ugly. It was best to attempt to keep up the façade. "I think it went very well! Lack of embarrassment is always a happy addition to a dinner party." She paused. "It's very kind of you to offer to escort me home, but really, you needn't trouble yourself. My brother-in-law should be arriving any time now." "Mmm..." was his only response to her comment. They had left sight of the house's windows by now, but Quentin knew all too well that the Malfoy's security extended slightly past their boundaries. It was very like the occupants, in its own way: overstepping their mark, in every sense of the word. They still had time enough to...get to know one another a little better. In Quentin's current mood, however, that did not really carry the sexual innuendo that it otherwise might have done. His wand, unlike hers, was already in his hand -- and lighting their way down the path. On the one hand, it kept it somewhere close and able to be easily utilised, but on the other it kept it out in front of them. Whoever Athena was, she would know when he made his play. He smiled tightly. "The problem, as I see it, is this: your brother-in-law is as great a concern to me as to what pants Lucius is no doubt sliding off as he climbs into bed right now. I have brought you this way to facilitate your Apparition home, dear cousin" --the sarcasm in his voice now was obvious-- "but I thought that, while we're here, you and I could have another little chat. A little chat about what you thought you were doing back there." Marlene was thankful for all the help that Tibby and Lily and Hestia had been earlier with the makeup and the glamour charms -- she was sure that without them, it would've been obvious even in the darkness that all the colour had completely drained from her face. A cold wave a fear rushed over her as the realisation of just how incredibly fucked she was settled in, but she responded to Quentin's question with small laugh. "Why, eating dinner with friends and family, of course," she replied, keeping her tone light and innocent and unaware of Bletchley's sarcastic tone. It dawned on Marlene that she still had the listening device in her necklace charmed on. Good lord, they're going to end up listening to me get murdered, she thought silently, running her hand through her hair as she tried to calm herself down. She glanced around the path, trying to pick out key scenic identifiers, hoping that the guys were still listening to their half of the device, and that they'd be able to find her. "Oh look at that; it seems that tree over there on the left got hit by lightning. I've never seen one split clear down the middle like that before!" "Please don't change the subject." For better or worse -although most certainly better for Marlene- Quentin did not seem to notice that she was reeling off descriptions of their surroundings. The human mind worked in an odd way, and if this was her manner of dealing with stress, then so much the better. She, at least, wasn't...relieving herself, which often put a downer on the mood at any precursor to murder. "I've had enough small talk with you to last a lifetime, back at the Malfoys -- actually, I suppose for you it DID last the rest of your lifetime. Funny, that...how stuff works out, I mean!" His tone was low now, and the generally amiable personality he had been exhibiting earlier was gone. "I haven't got a cousin Athena, or a Great-Aunt fucking Lyra. The only reason you got out of that house alive was because if anyone found out that the Bletchleys had been played for fools, Narcissa Malfoy would have crowed about it for years to come. And if we have anything in common whatsoever, I suspect it's that neither of us particularly care much for Lord and Lady Malfoy." He had dropped back slightly, perhaps only half a step behind Marlene, but just enough to give him a split-second of thinking time. "Now that they're out of the way, o' course, I can deal with you myself. Roving gangs of Muggles seemed to work well enough for Regulus; I reckon they could take dainty little you, as well." As Quentin slowed his pace, Marlene began to drop back as well, not exactly fond of the prospect of getting hexed in the back and letting that be that. She needed to stay calm -- if she let herself get psyched out, this was all over... or would be over faster, which was looking like an incredibly likely situation with every passing moment. "Of course you have a cousin Athena!" she replied with a nervous laugh. "I'm standing right here with you here about thirty feet from that brick windmill; and would you look at that, someone just left a wheelbarrow sitting out right near the edge of of the road here to our right, you would think they'd take a bit more care to put things away so as not to get them stolen." "But I am glad that you didn't find yourself embarrassed in there at all; that would have been the last thing I ever would have wanted, I promise," she assured him, honestly meaning that. Marlene definitely hadn't gone into the Malfoy house wondering how she could shame various members of the Bletchley family. And, of course, as unlikely as getting back on Quentin's good side now was, Marlene figured that attempting couldn't hurt. "The only thing that might be a little embarrassing is when Alvin comes to find me; I think he might be coming up the gravel road right there!" Her nerves were clearly beginning to creep into her voice as she rambled, losing a little of the proper purist accent she'd practised as hints of her normal accent slipped back into her speech. "Ah see, but that's the thing there about Regulus. Everyone knows it wasn't really muggles that did it," Marlene said quietly, glancing back up and down the road, praying that the guys were coming after her, and that they'd be able to get to her before it was too late. Even so, she wasn't sure how much longer she could delay a fight just by talking. "Everybody knows it was an inside job," she said, her hand slowly moving to grab for her wand. "Everybody suspects," he replied amiably. "Nobody knows, because nobody was there. And certainly nobody questions, because it's the Grand old Blacks of Camden. And suspicions are a little bit like elderly relatives: just because we have them, it doesn't necessarily follow that we have to pay them any attention." His expression hardened in the dark, though by now his wand was at such an angle that it probably would have been very difficult to tell. "I can live with my suspicions. Unfortunately, I wonder if the same could be said of you." His wand spun in his hand, rolling over his knuckles in a manoeuvre that, frankly, surprised even Quentin. He wasn't the best duellist in the Death Eaters' ranks, but then that was a little like saying he wasn't the most poisonous snake in Australia: there was a lot of wiggle room in that definition. Although non-verbal magic wasn't something that he normally had much of a handle on, tonight -with the boiling blood running through his veins- the thought that this...this impostor might get more of a jump on him than she already had was almost laughable. Growling between his teeth, Bletchley fired a Blasting Curse in his companion's direction: he would have liked to be sure, of course, but the only light had been coming from his wand, and now...well, it was still coming from his wand, but in a far more violent manner. The blasting curse hit Marlene nearly dead on, sending her flying backward through the air and skidding painfully for a few seconds as she hit the gravel pathway. The time for subtlety had clearly passed, and she was positive that there was no way that she was going to be able to convince Quentin that he'd made a mistake and that he was really and truly attacking one of his long lost cousins (not that she'd put these people past committing parricide.) She spun around on the ground, pointing her wand blindly in the direction she thought Quentin had hexed her from, shouting "STUPEFY!" and clamouring up to her feet. She started sprinting off in the opposite direction, running into the pitch darkness, not wanting to light the way both so as to not give away her location and so that her wand would be free to cast other spells if need be. She hadn't run more than a few metres before one of her shoe heels snapped and she went toppling over herself to the ground again, realising quite quickly that it had been a very very bad idea to wear high-heels to this quaint little gathering. Yanking her non-broken shoe off of her foot by the heel, Marlene whipped the stiletto in the direction that she'd thought Bletchley might be in, then mirroring the same with the other half of the pair before scrambling up off the path, not at all looking forward to running on gravel in bare feet. The charm sailed only a few inches past his head, which -if nothing else- helped to blind him for a few seconds as Marlene made her escape. He soon followed, however, crunching off in the direction she had left...or, more precisely, the opposite direction to where that Stupefy had been heading. It wasn't altogether difficult to follow the sound of the gravel, and now that the spell embargo had broken, Quentin was positively gleeful. "And only a few moments ago, you were so eager to STAY!" His wand slashed through the air, casting more curses than he actually expected to hit. They were more to light his way, and if any of them managed to hit? Then so much the better. More than one Tripping Jinx sailed through the air as he advanced, that low growl morphing into a semi-mirthless laugh. "Deprimo! Oh, darling cousin...at least have the courage to follow up tonight's audacity! You're acting far more like a...Macmillan! Confringo!" If being told she was acting like a Macmillan was akin to an insult, it was lost on Marlene, who was concentrating a little more on getting the hell away from the man who seemed intent on blasting holes through her. "Yeah that's 'cause a few moments ago you weren't casting blasting spells at me!" Marlene yelled back, following with a silent binding spell in the direction the spells were firing from while dashing in the direction of an alleyway in the distance, hoping if nothing else she'd be able to gain more cover there than she could out in the open. The Deprimo grazed the edge of her gown, blasting a golfball sized hole through one edge of the fabric and out the other, leaving Marlene incredibly thankful that trying to run on gravel had kept her hobbling in odd directions, just barely dodging countless curses on accident. "You ripped my dress," she glared at him, her tone falling a touch darker, turning back to face him head on. She cast "Densaugeo!" straight at the man who had dared to insult her courage, hoping that would prove as a distraction, followed by a "Glisseo!" at the ground, covering the gravel with a sheet of frozen ice. He dodged the tooth hex -really, teeth?- with ease, but with the balance upset and his centre of gravity but a distant memory, Quentin might as well have tried tap-dancing on the blasted ice. His feet went over his head in a most undignified manner, and with a loud 'fuck!', he hit the ground bodily. The wind was knocked out of him for a few precious seconds, before he managed to clamber to his feet once more. "I see you've lost that accent, darling Athena. Never let it be said that you can't dress a Jarvey like a princess -- you're living proof that isn't true!" Childish, yes. Unnecessary, almost definitely. But for all that upper-class veneer, he was just like the rest of them underneath. The Bletchleys were money so old that they'd stopped BEING old money. They were just...money. Still, all that money hadn't bought with it certain notions like 'not horribly murdering a female opponent.' His wand twirled, as he spat the curse from his lips like poison. "Crucio!" In any other situation, he'd have cast it wordlessly, and would have taken the element of surprise as well. But right here and now, aching from the fall, Quentin simply didn't have the wherewithal. What he did have, however, was desire: a fact proven by the other two Cruciatus curses hot on the first one's heels. "Do you have ANY idea who you are dealing with?" Marlene had grown up a lot in the last few months -- fighting in an endless war, losing her entire family, watching as her friends and loved ones were hurt again and again definitely had sped up the process despite the fact that she was still technically a teenager. Still, no amount of maturity could hide the fact that watching someone (especially someone that she didn't particularly like) flip over and fall on their arse never ceased to be hilarious. A loud snort of laughter escaped despite the fear that went along with running for one's life as Quentin blabbered off insults about her upbringing. It was hard to take someone seriously who'd just taken that slapstick of a plummet to the ground. The situation, however, stopped being funny very very quickly as Quentin's first Cruciatus curse blasted from his wand, knocking Marlene herself from her feet and onto the ground, shrieking in utter agony as her muscles twisted and wrenched in debilitating, torturous pain. She certainly hoped that Quentin hadn't been expecting a serious answer to his query -- no, she hadn't known who she was dealing with -- her eyes brimming with tears as the spell hit her again and again, it feeling like her spine was about to rip itself from her body. Marlene lay there in a thrashing heap on the ground, her fingers still clenched around her wand as the spell continued coursing through her, any sort of spell-work far beyond her as long as the Cruciatus was held. "Fuck you," she spat between gasps for breath once the spell ceased, trying to push herself up off the ground, only to catch her foot in her tangled dress, falling to the pavement again. "How's that for a Jarvey impression?" "Masterful, honestly" came the sarcastic reply. Quentin, though he would never admit it to the others, wasn't a fan of the Cruciatus curse. He hated to torture, except when the situation demanded it, and preferred the honour that lay in giving his opponents a quick death. He had his morals, for all that he was a purist, murdering bastard: it was just that perhaps people still wouldn't thank him for them. He saw people like Bella, and it made him feel a little ill -- Lestrange was a psycho, and more than once he'd hoped that she would cark it in some hilariously misadventured scenario. "Suits you better than the society girl act did." He was moving closer all the time now, his gait becoming more like a wolf (oh, if only he had known how ironic that could have been for her) with every step. "Merlin's eyebrows, love. You picked a fight with an Unspeakable, of all people! And we've lost enough people in these recent attacks. Good people, like Dor-" It didn't matter. Quentin gripped his wand tighter, delaying that final moment as long as he could. "Who are you? Not that it matters all that much now, but I'd like to make sure that someone who loves you gets the body back." Oh yes, he could be quite the gentleman in these matters. "Like Dorcas Meadowes? Oh yeah, she was a great person, until your people killed her," Marlene snapped back at him, still trying to push herself to her feet, backing away from his ever-approaching form. She regretted now that the ground was sheeted in ice right where she'd fallen, making it impossible to gain enough traction to get up. "Who even did it? Was it you? Probably was." Who else would've been down in the basement with her when the attacks had started? And if it was this Bletchley fellow who'd killed Dorcas, Marlene wasn't going to let him take her out as well without giving him a piece of her mind. "I guess you'll never know," Marlene glared at him, refusing to tell him what her real name was. The people who needed to know what had happened would know without Quentin delivering them the "message." Glaring up at the man, noticing now that he was just close enough, Marlene kicked her foot up towards the man's groin as hard as she could, following the hit to his crotch with a cry of "INCENDIO!" pointed towards his feet. Even if the spell missed him, hopefully it would melt the ground enough to give Marlene the chance to get away. Mere words couldn't have done justice to the animalistic cry Bletchley let forth - if Greyback had been passing, he might have been able to decipher it, but most humans were out for a duck. Stars swam before his vision for just a few moments, until the rather more pressing heat at his hemline allowed the heat in his groin -not like that, thank you- to take a back seat. Quentin snarled as the fire took hold of his clothing, though his anger was at the foolhardy, red mist-inducing level that meant extinguishing the flames was not of primary concern right now. He threw more curses her way, each more vile than the last...with more than one very audible Killing Curse amongst the mix. "Bitch!" Rather less erudite than the rest of their conversation, but with far more feeling than Quentin had shown all night. "Dorcas died because she was stupid, and uncharacteristic of her it was, too. If she'd kept her mouth shut, I might have had that pole-vaulting contest with her." Still not quite upright, and finding it rather difficult to focus through the tears of pain that he refused to acknowledge and wipe away, Bletchley presented a much less imposing figure than before. Crucially, there was also distance between them: enough, for example, that he would never have stood a chance of reaching her in time should Marlene have chosen to Apparate. Unfortunately for Marlene, three rounds of crucio (on top of her other injuries) would have made apparating herself out of there without splinching an impossibility, and considering she was lucky enough to even reach this point in the night with all her limbs in tact, she wasn't about to chance doing anything that would hinder her escape even further. She dashed away as quickly as she could toward the alleyway (which, granted, even with the head start wasn't very fast -- more of a brisk hobble than a run, really), dodging the curses that Quentin was shooting in her direction, casting a shield charm around herself that fell almost immediately when a particularly nasty streak of red light crashed into it. It was lucky that he'd yelled the killing curse as loudly as he had, giving Marlene a split second of opportunity to dive out of the way upon hearing the "Avada" growled out from behind her. The flash of green only missed by inches, flying over her head and smashing into a brick wall. She breathed a short sigh of relief a second too soon, only to be hit in the leg with something that sliced at her thigh. Marlene grit her teeth against the pain and jumped up again, the onslaught of curses and hexes still whizzing by. She was done making small talk with him -- all it did was give away her location and piss him off more, despite the fact that she was desperate to ask who it was who'd killed Dorcas if it hadn't been him. There was no way to be sure that he'd tell the truth, even if he did answer. She finally reached the alleyway, banging on each of the few locked doors that she came to in hopes that someone would answer before giving up and sprinting to the next. Marlene was beating on the the third door, pounding on the poster-covered door with her fists as adrenalin ran rapid, when it dawned on her that she could have been chased down this way on purpose. There was no way of knowing who would answer; there might be someone behind door number three who was working with Quentin. And even if somebody was willing to help, she didn't have time to wait around to hope that someone would answer and let her in this late at night -- and injured or not, Quentin was gaining on her. Looking around for somewhere that she could hide that the Death Eater wouldn't think to immediately search, she squeezed her way back into a tight space behind one of the alleyway's dumpsters, then frantically felt through her purse for James's invisibility cloak. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she draped it over herself, hugging her knees as she curled up in a ball to try to stay as small as possible, making sure her everything from her hair to her dress were covered by the cloak. Her nervous energy was beginning to wear off, and the last thing she needed was Quentin finding her now, overhearing her whimpering like an injured animal as the pain set in. She then turned her wand on herself, casting a quiet "silencio" on herself so that she wouldn't give her location away by breathing too loudly. It might've rendered the listening device useless, and under normal circumstances Marlene loathed the spell (especially when it was on her), but this definitely counted as a special circumstance, and it gave her the freedom to hyperventilate in adrenalin-rushed terror as much as she needed to without fear that she'd be heard. Quentin had no patience for this. His desire to be embarrassed was only outstripped by his desire not to play hide-and-blasted-seek with this ridiculous madam, and it didn't take long for the two warring factions inside him to make their treaty. He was cold, he was aching and he was more than a little aware that his wife would now be wondering why he and 'Athena' were spending so long catching up. He had promised to follow along shortly, after perhaps an exchange of addresses and little else: there was simply no time left in which to indulge this woman her silly games. "If this is the way you insist on playing it, fine." Bletchley rolled his sleeves up, and drew himself up to as tall as his protesting genitalia would allow. "You're so keen to keep on hiding? Hiding behind my name, hiding behind these doors, hiding behind whatever...I won't keep chasing you. Damn you, woman, and let the fires sort you out. Incendio!" He fired the curse a number of times, watching with some small satisfaction as the flames began to take hold of various bits of street detritus. It was magically enhanced, of course, but they licked at one of those alleyway doors just like the regular, equally murderous kind. Quentin grinned. "I'd have preferred Fiendfyre, but...well, there's doing a job right and there's just being silly. Nasty stuff to control -- although if we ever manage to meet again, I might give it a try. This stuff will probably burn these houses good and proper, anyway. If I were you, I'd leave them to it and get out before you find yourself...cut off. Or are you one of these types who likes to go around 'saving' people?" He'd stressed the 'cut' like a bad movie villain, but Quentin wasn't the type to understand any movie character, let alone supervillains. He'd inferred enough from the fact that she'd been ABLE to Disapparate, but hadn't...and had taken advantage of it. Grunting with some perverse cross between amusement and triumph, Bletchley turned on his heel and was replaced by darkness. Marlene remained absolutely still, allowing Quentin to monologue away, praying that maybe, just maybe, he'd run out of things to say to "intimidate" her and would leave off to go home to his wife. That, of course, would have been too lucky. The Death Eaters were not the sort to simply give up when they couldn't find their initial victim -- as long as their appetite for destruction was met, it didn't seem to matter to them what they hurt or who they killed so long as the intended target realised that it was their fault. The flames began streaking down the alleyway, licking the sides of the buildings as Quentin disappeared into the night. Marlene crawled out from her hiding space, stomach knotting up and eyes wide as she held onto the waste bin for support, pointing her wand at the fire and to cast "Aguamenti!"... and nothing happened. Oh shit, this was a very very bad time to suck at non-verbal spells. After all this she was going to bloody end up getting herself killed over something she'd done to try to save herself. Grabbing her purse back from behind the dumpster and booking it down towards the other end of the alleyway, coughing silently as smoke began to fill the area and feeling her heart sink into her stomach when the alley ended in a dead end, Marlene whipped her journal out from the bag and shoved the cloak back inside, scribbling out a hurried message to the guys, hoping they'd get there in time. ... Caradoc, sure that Remus was somewhere behind him, only needed to follow the surreal orange glow to find the exact alley in which Marlene had had her run in with that fucking Bletchley scum. With a flourishing of his wand - silent spells be damned, he practically bellowed - he concentrated a thick blast of water on the nearest fire and worked to slowly turn the blaze into smouldering ash. Remus was not far behind as the pair of them rushed toward the blazing alley, and he was mimicking Caradoc's actions, helping him to put out the fires -- he was alternating between casting the spell and calling out Marlene's name, hoping to Merlin she would answer (and that she still could) so that they could find her through the fires. Marlene thought she heard someone yelling for her, and the fire seemed to be diminishing a bit, thick clouds of black smoke taking its place. Answering, though, was going to be a problem, considering she couldn't concentrate (or stop shaking) long enough to silently perform an anti-silencing spell on herself. Scrambling up to the nearest dumpster, holding her breath so as not to inhale any more smoke than she had to, grabbed a metal pole that was hanging out of the top, banging it against the large metal waste-bin as hard as she could in hopes that they'd be able to hear that. Through the rush of water, the dissonant metallic clanging was easily discernible (if sometimes drowned out by two powerful jets of water). Leaving off of his fire-fighting duties - he supposed it was contained in the dumpsters to this alley, anyway - he turned and spied a familiar female form in the smoke-laden air. "Marlene!" was a cry of relief; she stood and that had to say something. Striding quickly to her, he held his arms out and embraced her tightly. "Damn it all. Are you alright?" Marlene opened her mouth, beginning to reply, only to shut it again, nodding first, then shaking her head no, and then nodding again. She hugged onto Caradoc, relieved as hell that they'd found her, and then grabbed for Remus's arm to pull him over into the hug (completely not caring about any sort of awkwardness that might've gone along with that). She stumbled back a bit, looking over his shoulder at the fire still burning at the alley's edge. DID WE GET THE PAPERS? she mouthed up at Caradoc and Remus, really beginning to feel like she needed to sit down. Remus was barely seconds behind Caradoc as they found their way to Marlene, and he couldn't have cared less about being pulled into the hug, because she was alive, she was going to be safe, and that was all that mattered to him right then. He moved toward her when she stumbled, hand going to her elbow to help her stay standing. "We did -- can you not talk? Are you silenced?" he asked, and at Marlene's nod he pointed his wand at her, casting the counter spell to remove it so she could speak again. "We need to get out of here," Remus said, looking to Caradoc. Having stepped back to give the younger people room - a keen, narrowed eye observed their familiarity and protectiveness with one another - he nodded toward Remus and resisted the urge to bundle her up in his arms himself. "Go to the safehouse and stay there until at least the morning so you'll have what you need in safety and she can sleep. Then we can regroup to go over our information. I'll finish the job here and alert the Order that we're all alive, if sooty." A crooked smile. "Are James and Abe all right?" Marlene asked, leaning on Remus to keep herself standing, her body finally allowing itself to feel dizzy now that there were people there who could help her. "No one saw you guys right? Don't let the houses here burn down. You go home too, Doc," she ordered ramblingly before letting Remus follow Doc's orders to get them both out of there. "I think this went well(!)" she said with a slight laugh, just as her legs gave out from underneath her. Remus caught her before she hit the ground, holding her up in his arms; he looked at the remaining fires, torn between wanting to stay and help and wanting to get Marlene to safety. "They're fine. Everything's fine, don't worry." He hoped Aberforth and James hadn't stayed long after they left, but they would find out soon enough once they were at the safehouse. "Thank you -- and be careful," he said, looking at Caradoc, before he apparated Marlene and himself away to the safehouse. Squeezing Remus's shoulder and brushing a light kiss over Marlene's forehead, he nodded. "Directly to sleep with you, hmm? I'm serious as a heart-attack. Right, ok, I will -- Hopefully it did." Everything would depend on the information Remus managed to copy before they left. "Go on, then," he said gruffly, turning from the young couple to focus his concentration on the last of the dumpster fires. He was sure that James or Aberforth had alerted the troops and their fears would have to be assuaged with hopeful words. Damn it all, they needed hope. Hope above all things to, in due course, put into action. |