WHO: Bellatrix Lestrange & Rabastan Lestrange. WHAT: The fallout. WHEN: Backdated to March 3rd. WHERE: Malfoy Manor.
Malfoy Manor was large, but Rabastan could only avoid Bellatrix for so long.
He spotted her in the dining room, seated at the head of the table. His mouth thinned into an angry line as he considered his options: leave or engage. The surge of displeasure he felt as his eyes fell on her was a sign he should leave, but Eddie kept asking after his phone. Rabastan thought some distance from the muggle device would do him good — it wasn’t as if he couldn’t talk to his friends over the journals — but the faint pinprick of guilt he felt about Eddie’s current situation was enough for him to indulge the boy.
And so: “You have the boy’s phone.” His tone was curt, cutting through the silence of the room like the first shot volleyed.
Bellatrix glanced up at the sound of his voice and kept her expression cool as she looked at him. “I didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands,” she said after a beat. Folding her arms across her chest, she set her jaw and added, “He’s been using it to communicate with the Order.”
There was a brief flash of surprise on Rabastan’s face, but he marshaled his expression back into one of annoyance a beat later. “His ex-girlfriend is in the Order,” he said slowly, with obvious distaste. “I don’t believe he’s involved with them beyond that.”
“I hope you’re right, but you can see for yourself if you can get the thing to turn back on.” She unfolded her arms to produce the phone from her pocket. She slid it across the table toward him before she said, still defiant, “I wasn’t going to stab him.”
Rabastan stopped the phone from sliding off the table, eyeing it mistrustfully. He sidestepped Bellatrix’s acknowledgment of the stabbing incident by focusing on her first statement. “I believe the phone needs to be—” His fingers bent into air quotes as he said, “charged with electricity. I doubt I’ll be able to read anything.”
“With electricity,” Bellatrix repeated, her nose wrinkled and her tone mocking. “And as much as you’d like to believe he isn’t involved, they still knew I was going to be there. I don’t know how, but they did.”
A dark look passed over Rabastan’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he got a hext about my going there while I was there.”
“This knife practice of yours,” Rabastan began, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you discuss the time and place beforehand or was it a spur of the moment event?”
“He agreed to the training. The time and place of the training was my idea,” she said, pushing her plate away from her and leaning back in her chair. “I only told Narcissa. I thought it best to keep him on his toes.”
A thoughtful expression flickered over Rabastan’s face. “If he didn’t know in advance, how could he have warned the Order?”
“He didn’t warn them,” Bellatrix said, shaking her head. “They were warning him.”
“This is bizarre.” Rabastan turned the mobile phone over in his hand, studying it intently. “How could they have known?”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed in on the phone in his hands. “I don’t know. Did you or Narcissa say anything to anyone else? Could anyone have overheard?”
“Narcissa likely told Lucius, but I can’t see her mentioning it to anyone else. I didn’t discuss it with anyone, not even Rodolphus.”
“Then we have a problem,” she said. “And I’m still not convinced the boy doesn’t know what it is.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Rabastan promised, straightening up to his full height. “If he has been working with the Order, he’ll regret it.”
“Will he?” Her interest piqued, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Because this seems like the perfect moment for an Imperius Curse to me.”
Rabastan shook his head. “I want him to want this. The Imperius Curse should be a last resort.”
“If Layla’s any indication, not even his friends’ rejection will get him to turn on them.” She sounded bitter as she said it, frustrated with her inability to control the younger Death Eater. “If he has any left, we should use those connections while we still can.”
“Fairbourne is a problem,” Rabastan replied, seizing the opportunity to rant about the impertinent Death Eater. “She’s too mouthy and too close with those Gryffindors. Eddie is nothing like her.”
“How do you know?” Her brows furrowed now. “Do you think he’d tell you, his long-lost Death Eater father, that he’s close to the very people we aim to eliminate? Do you think he’s incapable of hiding things from you? He’s certainly hidden you well enough until now.”
Rabastan shrugged, but looked uneasy as he admitted, “I trust him.”
Bellatrix looked at him evenly. “You’re a fool.”
For a moment, he glared openly at her. Then, in a resigned voice, “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that. I doubt it’ll be the last.”
“If he sets you up while you’re too busy believing in him, it might be.”
“He’s not an idiot,” Rabastan shot back. “He won’t do anything to put himself in danger. Setting me up would end his life.” Besides, he is fond of me in his own way was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to keep that thought to himself.
“And we intend to end his friends’ while they intend to end yours,” Bellatrix snapped back, frustration re-entering her voice. “Don’t take his trustworthiness for granted, Rabastan. The fact that he’s not an idiot makes him more dangerous, not less.”
“Fine,” he acknowledged, with matching belligerence. “Is that all?”
Her frown didn’t budge as she let out a heated breath through her nose. “I want my knife back.”
“Fine,” Rabastan repeated, temper still evident in the stubborn set of his jaw. “Although I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for you to buy another one from Borgin and Burkes.”
“I like that one,” came her sharp reply.
“Of course you do.” Rabastan turned on his heel to leave, heading for the doorway in quick strides. But a thought occurred to him and he paused, calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll have the knife for you when I return from the hospital.”