The Dark, Beckoning: Part 4 (Antonin/Bellatrix)
Title: Objects of Desire
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
The heavy door of the Lestrange vault slides open, revealing the shelves of valuable items and stacks of gleaming galleons, Bellatrix lifts her skits with one hand and walks inside, her other arm protectively cradling a golden cup, which twinkles slyly in the unsure light of the vault. Antonin leans against the stone doorframe and watches her as she sweeps over to the shelves, looking for a proper spot. The goblin who had brought them down stands in the hallway, snarling and snuffling. Antonin turn and waves the creature away. The goblin goes, grumbling, and Antonin’s eyes slide back to Bella.
“Have you found a spot?”
She doesn’t answer him for a moment, arranging the cup in its new home on a shelf of a Gringotts vault. Bella takes a step back, fixing her hat with its long, black, sating bow. She stares at the cup, as though mesmerized. “I’m almost afraid to leave it.” Her voice is small, an unusual sound out of her.
“No where is safer than Gringotts. Except for Hogwarts but I’m pretty sure that’s out,” Antonin reasons calmly.
“He gave it to me to protect,” she continues, answering him and yet acting like she had not heard him at all. “Can you not feel it? The pulsing? There is something very important about this cup. I could see it in His eyes.” She turns to him. Her eyes are clear, deep, black lakes, filled to the brim with emotion.
“I think your dear husband is jealous of the wrong man,” Antonin snips mockingly.
Bella sneers and her eyes narrow. “You could be more grateful, Tony. If it weren’t for our Lord you would still be in Azkaban.”
“Our Lord? I, honestly, preferred Riddle.” He strides confidently past her and grabs the cup off the shelf. She’s allowed him in here so the security jinks doesn’t work. “What if I were to break it? Right now.”
Bellatrix turns slowly, her entire body lithe, suddenly snake-like. Antonin feels a strong surge of desire. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses. He can tell she’s terrified.
Antonin takes out his wand and smirks. “Are you certain?” He wants to do this, to torture her. After what she did, how she’d betrayed him. He hadn’t wanted a part in this war, he’d only done it for her.
She glides over to him and puts one hand on his chest, the other sliding up his arm, over his wrist and the hand which grips the cup. “You won’t.”
She’s so close he can’t quite breathe. “How are you sure?”
She pries the cup out of his loosened hold and takes it back to its shelf. Still facing away from him she half-whispers, “Because you love me.”