Bole giggled and quickly dropped down to straddle Eleanor's prone body. The vulnerability of someone under the paralysing jinx was intoxicating to Bole. He traced his fingers over her cheek and down her neck, stopping on her jugular. He pressed hard, feeling her racing heart. Racing, yes, but not fast enough. She wasn't as scared as he wanted her to be.
"Oh Eleanor," He whispered, leaning down close to her face, "I've been wanting to play with you a long time." He ran his tongue up her cheek, pausing to bite her under her eye. Not hard enough to break the skin, but certainly hard enough to hurt.
What to do to her... The possibilities were endless. She wouldn't even be able to scream until the spell wore off. She'd be trapped inside a little ball of agony if he tortured her.... but that wouldn't get the right kind of fear. Not the kind he wanted. He wanted her to wet herself in terror. He wanted her to lose all control in the face of hopelessness.
The open hole caught his eye and he smirked. He turned and suddenly struck her in the nose with his fist, breaking it instantly. She couldn't move to wipe away the blood, and he liked the way it slowly trickled over her pale skin. But that was just to keep her occupied as he lifted himself off and charmed the rest of the earth away from Fred's coffin.
"I have desecrated his grave haven't I?" Bole remarked as he charmed the lid of the box open with a sharp crack. The smell of decay filled the air instantly, and he wrinkled his nose at the remains of Fred Weasley. He flicked his gaze to hers and tilted his head, "How do you possibly make amends for something so terrible hmm?"