WHO: Dedalus Diggle and Bellatrix Lestrange WHAT: A delightful encounter! WHEN: 19 November, afternoon WHERE: In front of Rosier’s in Diagon. WARNINGS: Rudeness
Dedalus hurried through the bustle of Diagon Alley with some smuggled Muggleborn aid tucked into the pockets of his coat, the top of his top hat bobbing slightly above the other, taller errand-goers’ shoulders as he made his way through the crowd. He was a man on a mission; there was nothing that could distract him from—
He forgot what he was doing the moment he found himself in front of Rosier’s. He stopped dead in his tracks to stand there and scowl at the chocolate shop. Not only was it a purist, capitalistic eyesore, but it had brought The ‘Great’ Humberto back to these shores, an utterly unforgivable sin in Dedalus’ eyes. The smaller, moustachioed illusionist was so busy being distracted by his own pettiness that he didn’t notice his former classmate until she was nearly upon him.
Bellatrix had skipped the opening days at Rosier’s, opting to keep a distance from some of the lesser sort who’d inevitably be tempted in by the festivities. It was instead in the brief window between the shop’s opening and Christmas in Diagon that she made the pilgrimage. When she’d left the shop with a bag and a stomach full of chocolate, the first thing she saw was her former classmate scowling at the building’s facade.
“Diggle,” she said, her voice marked by a sneer. “You look like someone licked all your chocolate.”
Dedalus’ scowl continued, even as he turned to greet his former yearmate. His instincts told him to reach for his wand, but he held off, at least for now. The Death Eater likely didn’t know of his affiliation, and he preferred to keep it that way. “Lestrange,” he replied snippily. “You must be pleased that someone built a chocolate shop to cater to you.”
“I think you’ll find most things cater to me these days,” she said, thoroughly arrogant, even down to her posture. Her eyes drifted up to his hat and a smirk settled on her lips. “How are things in the entertainment business?”
The short man’s lips were a hard, straight line. “You must be having a splendid time,” he said snarkily, taking a deep breath as he tried not to say anything worse. “The entertainment industry’s great—people love to think about anything but the fact that they’re terrified all the time, so thank you for that.”
“You’re quite welcome,” she said with a careless wave of her hand. “And I am having a splendid time. I’m sure not as good a time as you’re having distracting mudblood lovers from their misery, but thank you for noticing.”
Dedalus was unable to restrain himself from making a disgusted noise at that. “You must be having a much better time now than you did in prison,” he said, brasher than he likely should have been.
“Yes.” Her smirk dissipated, replaced with a stern, perhaps cruel, look. “I’d liken it to having a twin sister taken from you, only to be reunited with her years later. It’s a shame yours is still dead.”
Even so many years later, it was likely obvious that the reminder was like a punch to the gut. Dedalus winced. “Yes, it is a shame she’s still dead, because she’d have some choice words for you, had she been here. But she’s not! And she never will be! I’m quite aware of that, thank you.” he said, his feathers clearly ruffled. It was an easy button to push, because it was always the same button. It likely always would remain as such.
Some shoppers side-eyed him as they pushed past that much more quickly, not wanting to get caught in the middle of a squabble.
Bellatrix couldn’t have looked more self-satisfied, happy to know that she could so easily upset him. It didn’t occur to her that she, too, had lost a sister. It didn’t cross her mind that they had something in common. The difference, of course, was that he and his sister deserved it. She was but a hapless victim of her sister’s betrayal.
“Still a touchy subject, I see,” she said with a broad smile. “I suppose I don’t need to remind you, then, that there’s more where that came from.”
Her smile only served to rile him further. He stepped forward, getting more than a little pink in the face. “Not for l—” he began, though he was stopped just short of reaching for his wand by a sudden voice chiming in from somewhere in the vicinity of his waistcoat pocket.
“Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry—” it shouted, startling him out of confrontation mode. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a large, ornate pocketwatch, then hurriedly pressed a button to turn it off.
Dedalus took a deep, steadying breath as he re-pocketed the watch. He raised an accusatory finger to Bellatrix. “You’re a very unpleasant person,” he huffed. “And I’m late.”
But her eyes were on the pocketwatch in his hand, a look of derision on her face. “Of course you still have that thing,” she muttered. “Can’t ever be subtle.”
“Of course I still have it,” Dedalus scowled. It’s all I have left of Demeter, he knew better than to add. “I thought you purists were all about Tradition. I suppose a lack of subtlety is one of yours and mine as well. Good day to you, Madam Lestrange.”
He tipped his hat to her and hurried off down the alley, stuffing his hands into his pockets so that no-one would see they were practically shaking.
“Hurry up! Hurry up!” she called and smirked after him. As he and his hat began to disappear into the crowd, she turned on her heel and set off in the opposite direction, feeling just the slightest bit better.