Every Death Eater needs a drink now and again
WHO: Bellatrix Lestrange and Duncan Maclachlan
WHAT: A coupla' drinks and anything that could possibly follow..
WHERE: Knockturn Alley pub
WHEN: November 12, 1997; Evening
STATUS: Incomplete
Bellatrix Lestrange watched the revelry and drunken merriment before her with eyes unimpressed. Antics were not on her list of admirable behaviors. She wondered why so many people could not hold liquor in a way that improved their behavior rather than that devolving way so unbecoming and annoying. Bellatrix herself could drink and drink and drink and still puck it in when necessary. She only allowed herself the pleasure of messiness out of the public eye and in her own home. Still.. she was certain that despite the intense amounts of alcohol inside her, she was the only dark wizard in this room who could still manage an artful kill. The rest of them couldn't tell their wands from their arses ( and she was sure some of them had already lost the former up the latter ).
She would have to do something amazingly eye-catching soon. After she'd killed Alastor Moody, anytime she walked anywhere, there were always whispers of fear and dread. Now, this very day, when she'd entered the pub there had been only a half hour of uncertain looks and people falling over themselves to make her happy. Now it was as if she was just anyone.
And Bellatrix Lestrange was not just anyone.
She glared from her corner booth and took another shot of firewhisky.
WHAT: A coupla' drinks and anything that could possibly follow..
WHERE: Knockturn Alley pub
WHEN: November 12, 1997; Evening
STATUS: Incomplete
Bellatrix Lestrange watched the revelry and drunken merriment before her with eyes unimpressed. Antics were not on her list of admirable behaviors. She wondered why so many people could not hold liquor in a way that improved their behavior rather than that devolving way so unbecoming and annoying. Bellatrix herself could drink and drink and drink and still puck it in when necessary. She only allowed herself the pleasure of messiness out of the public eye and in her own home. Still.. she was certain that despite the intense amounts of alcohol inside her, she was the only dark wizard in this room who could still manage an artful kill. The rest of them couldn't tell their wands from their arses ( and she was sure some of them had already lost the former up the latter ).
She would have to do something amazingly eye-catching soon. After she'd killed Alastor Moody, anytime she walked anywhere, there were always whispers of fear and dread. Now, this very day, when she'd entered the pub there had been only a half hour of uncertain looks and people falling over themselves to make her happy. Now it was as if she was just anyone.
And Bellatrix Lestrange was not just anyone.
She glared from her corner booth and took another shot of firewhisky.