jo is keen on stopping this. (aliasgrace) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-06-21 16:30:00 |
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I don't have much time. Adrenaline, aided by the shock of those who witnessed the last few moments of Jo's interrogation of Rodolphus Lestrange, coursed through her body and allowed her to jettison past those who were attempting to crowd in the room. As she found herself alone again, she took strict control of her body and stifled the sobs that threatened to choke off her throat. She couldn't let him do this to her. She wouldn't. There was work to be done and she was sure that in due time, she would either be chained to a desk or barred from the premises. With her face set, she began to walk down the long aisle that lead to the storage rooms where Rodolphus's clothes would be located. As her long strides ate the distance, she schooled her face into pleasant impassivity. "Les garçons!" she practically chirped in a thickened accent, turning the corner to lean on the counter that separated her from the long cabinents of possessions. Two young interns stared wide-eyed and owlish at her from the recesses of the small office space. "I have need of you." One reedy, freckle-faced attendant stood abruptly (much to his partner's chagrin) and gave her a nod of attention. "Yes -- " for who else could the long-haired French Auror be? "Mademoiselle Savage, how may we help you?" She cleared her throat. "I need to see Rodolphus Lestrange's personal effects." The request was not uncommon and so he disappeared for a moment before returning with a rectangular cardboard box. He laid it on the counter between them and stood quietly, mouth slightly agape as his eyes travelled across her body and lit upon her ample chest. This was the moment she needed - as he stared, she leaned further over the counter until her body was practically draped over the small space and tucked one small lock of hair behind his ear. "Alone? And don't tell anyone I've been here" she purred, "Please ..." "I-I- ... T-th-This is ... " he cleared his throat. "For you, Mademoiselle." "Please," she replied, giving the best coquettish toss of her head. "It's Jo." And as he and his partner disappeared into the bowels of the shelving, she buried her hands in the lustrous fabric, pulling it close to her face for closer inspection. His scent lingered within the folds of the fabric and she inhaled (and then damned herself for enjoying the pure aesthetic pleasure of old books and spices). There was a full set of clothes: robes, waistcoat, tunic, overcoat and even a sparkling pocket watch along with a sprig of eglantine. Though this pricked her curiousity, she focused on the clothes. With the waistcoat's brocaded material, a hair would be the most visible ... And even as these thoughts were realised, three lustrous black hairs practically curled into her fingertips. Bellatrix. "Oh Merlin," she murmured, and then, "please don't let it be one of those mangy wolfhounds ..." With a careful precision, she plucked the hair from the fabric and folded it into the leatherbound notebook she kept on her person at all times. She had her prize. Now it was time to face Scrimgeour ... The young interns forgotten, she left Rodolphus's effects upon the counter where they would be doubtless returned to him in mere hours(and hopefully the young men would remain mum as she requested). With her face turned toward the lift, she began to almost saunter down the hall. Though the price would be high (she hoped Rufus would forgive her one day), the jewel was too precious. She could have Rodolphus Lestrange. She could put him away for life. |