Her stomach turned and her already pale skin turned ghostly white. She could literally feel the bile rising in her throat. She knew Padrig. Bellatrix Lestrange knew of Padrig. Her Padrig. It didn’t sit right with her. He hadn’t mentioned a run in with Bellatrix Lestrange. He’d never once said anything about this woman and now she was saying he was obedient. Marietta wanted to jerk the picture out of her hand and insist that the person in that picture was not him. She couldn’t lie though.
“You know him?” she asked trying to keep the fear and anger at bay. She was going to murder Padrig for letting her get blindsided by this. How could he do this? Was this woman playing her? Maybe she didn’t even know him at all? Perhaps, there was some other perfectly logical explanation for this. “I wasn’t aware that he had dealings with you. Obviously his obedience stops at you. He serves his purposes.”
The picture falling back into place startled her again. Perhaps it was the sound of the crash or the cracking of the glass inside the frame. The way the photo version of herself and Padrig looked at her it was as if they knew she was fudging on the truth more than a little. “She’ll be sorely disappointed she missed you,” Marietta offered struggling now to maintain any mask.