Amazing the information one could gather just by sitting back and listening. Too many Aurors seemed to disdain that incredibly useful skill, preferring to charge in, wands raised, questions for later, and to hell with the consequences. There were few Aurors left who remembered to just shut up and listen.
Duncan remembered.
He sat in the corner of the room, the hood of his robe raised to shadow his face, a shot of whisky before him. A few empty glasses littered the table.
So far, nothing of intense interest.
And then... she walked in and it was all he could do not to pull out his wand then and there.
Patience. Patience. To hell with patience. But no, this woman had killed Moody. Stupidity would grant him very little this night.
Bellatrix was hyper-aware of everyone around her. Unfortunately that meant she was hyper-aware of everyone's disinterest in her. Except for... there. Dark eyes scanned the room before they landed on the hooded figure across the room. She couldn't discern just who her new friend was, but Bellatrix had felt eyes on her periodically throughout the last twenty or so minutes.
She watched the figure, half-hidden in the shadows, with an expression of the most mild form of interest.
Well, at least someone gave a damn about just who she was.
The dark-haired Death Eater sat forward, leaning over the table before a wide albeit crooked grin spread across her face.
Interesting. Duncan struck a match along the edge of the table, lit the end of a cigarette, inhaled. There. Good. A haze of blue smoke curled and wisped over his head.
He didn't raise an eyebrow at Lestrange's insane grin. Another drag on the cigarette.
Long fingers of one hand slid down her thigh beneath the table. Nails skimmed over the surface of her wand, and Bellatrix's smile only widened at the feel of cool wood against her skin. How wonderful it would make her feel, to simply curse this man dead here and now. Maybe then all the wankers present wouldn't dare forget just who she was and just what she could and would do to any of them.
This man was keeping his cool. My, my. How impressive. Still, Bellatrix was slightly more than a spoiled child. She would not be overzealous just because her admirer showed little sign of true interest. It was hardly in her to care.
She blew the man a kiss before pouring another shot and downing it, sinking back into the shadow of her booth.
Bellatrix sat at her perch for a few more moments, mulling over her life at this very second in time. She had many options, the smartest of which was no doubt to ignore her admirer and go home. Perhaps even pay her baby sister a visit. While she was there, she could even ruffle that rat Malfoy's feathers. That actually sounded like an appealing evening when she thought about it.
Then again, she could always do that after she put this man in his place.
Before she really even knew what she was doing, the petite Death Eater found herself standing at Maclachlan's table, chin tilted upward proudly. Thin fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and she leaned forward.
"Bum a fag?" The tone in her voice indicated it wasn't really a question, but she smiled all the same.
Contact... Too early to draw, too hasty. Duncan raised an eyebrow, fished in his pocket and tossed the cigarette packet on the table.
"Help yourself."
If he drew now, it was a given that no one would come to his aid. But it was just as unlikely that anyone would come to Lestrange's. She could handle herself and he doubted many patrons were in the market for death this night.
The Death Eater reached out with her left arm, collecting a cigarette from the box. She made sure the tattoo on her arm was visible between them before her sleeve once again fell over it. Bellatrix knew this man knew who she was, but the action was almost flaunting. The other patrons aside, he was on her turf at the moment.
One corner of her mouth crooked up in a smirk as wandless magic flamed the end of the cigarette. She inhaled once and released a thin cloud of smoke.
"You got balls, mate. I gotta give you that one," Bellatrix said. "They'd look lovely in a jar on my mantle."
Laughter. Then it stopped just as abruptly as it began.
Duncan quirked an eyebrow. The smoke from Lestrange's cigarette drifted over the table, mingling and curling with the haze that had collected above them.
"Same as you," he said casually. "Out for a drink and a smoke."
The room seemed to narrow and close in around Lestrange. Still too soon to make a move. Too obvious, sloppy.
"Oh yeah," Bellatrix replied. "Totally believe you on that one. You ain't come to associate with any of your former housemates unless you're here to take one of 'em down, aintcha?"
She took another long drag on the cigarette and waved one hand in the air dismissively.
"You come barkin' up the wrong tree tonight, duckie. Things is real tense 'round here these days, as you very well know. Wouldn't wanna mess up a lady like me and bring a whole world a' hurt down on the good innocent folk of jolly old England in retaliation now, do ya?"
The crash sent Bellatrix into immediate action. Her wand was out and at the ready, igniting to blast the table coming at her into smithereens. One arm lifted above her head, robes shielding her face and eyes from the settling debris. She knew Maclachlan's speed, so she righted herself and aimed at him at the first possible moment.
So, it looked like things might just get interesting.
"You're barkin'! Wrong tree, I tell ya! Wrong bloody tree!"
And Bellatrix hadn't survived a war and a half plus Azkaban and a final duel with Alastor Moody by being easily defeated. He was good, but she'd fought better. Her wrist flicked to dissolve the spell away; however, a piece of it managed to get past her. Bellatrix growled and took a few steps backward, fighting to steady herself. There was the briefest moment in which she saw stars, but she shook them off.
Bellatrix hoped that half of a second wouldn't hurt her too much.
She fired off a disarming spell high at Maclachlan's arm, followed quickly by a sectumsempra low to the inside of his leg. There was a lovely artery there, a very big one.
Duncan remembered.
He sat in the corner of the room, the hood of his robe raised to shadow his face, a shot of whisky before him. A few empty glasses littered the table.
So far, nothing of intense interest.
And then... she walked in and it was all he could do not to pull out his wand then and there.
Patience. Patience. To hell with patience. But no, this woman had killed Moody. Stupidity would grant him very little this night.
He waited.
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She watched the figure, half-hidden in the shadows, with an expression of the most mild form of interest.
Well, at least someone gave a damn about just who she was.
The dark-haired Death Eater sat forward, leaning over the table before a wide albeit crooked grin spread across her face.
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Watching him watching her.
Interesting. Duncan struck a match along the edge of the table, lit the end of a cigarette, inhaled. There. Good. A haze of blue smoke curled and wisped over his head.
He didn't raise an eyebrow at Lestrange's insane grin. Another drag on the cigarette.
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This man was keeping his cool. My, my. How impressive. Still, Bellatrix was slightly more than a spoiled child. She would not be overzealous just because her admirer showed little sign of true interest. It was hardly in her to care.
She blew the man a kiss before pouring another shot and downing it, sinking back into the shadow of her booth.
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Well... no need to be hasty. Too many people to get caught in the crossfire.
He ignored the kiss, took another long drag on his cigarette. His fingers were itching. Something was bound to happen one way or another.
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Then again, she could always do that after she put this man in his place.
Before she really even knew what she was doing, the petite Death Eater found herself standing at Maclachlan's table, chin tilted upward proudly. Thin fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and she leaned forward.
"Bum a fag?" The tone in her voice indicated it wasn't really a question, but she smiled all the same.
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"Help yourself."
If he drew now, it was a given that no one would come to his aid. But it was just as unlikely that anyone would come to Lestrange's. She could handle herself and he doubted many patrons were in the market for death this night.
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One corner of her mouth crooked up in a smirk as wandless magic flamed the end of the cigarette. She inhaled once and released a thin cloud of smoke.
"You got balls, mate. I gotta give you that one," Bellatrix said. "They'd look lovely in a jar on my mantle."
Laughter. Then it stopped just as abruptly as it began.
"What're you doing here, Maclachlan?"
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"Same as you," he said casually. "Out for a drink and a smoke."
The room seemed to narrow and close in around Lestrange. Still too soon to make a move. Too obvious, sloppy.
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She took another long drag on the cigarette and waved one hand in the air dismissively.
"You come barkin' up the wrong tree tonight, duckie. Things is real tense 'round here these days, as you very well know. Wouldn't wanna mess up a lady like me and bring a whole world a' hurt down on the good innocent folk of jolly old England in retaliation now, do ya?"
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A crash rocked the pub. One patron blasted another into a shelf of shot glasses behind the bar and a spray of glass showered the room.
Duncan drew his wand, kicked the table toward Lestrange.
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So, it looked like things might just get interesting.
"You're barkin'! Wrong tree, I tell ya! Wrong bloody tree!"
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And he wasn't fresh out of Auror training and easily distracted by insane rantings.
He fired off one really good stunning spell, enough to floor the bitch should it hit her.
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Bellatrix hoped that half of a second wouldn't hurt her too much.
She fired off a disarming spell high at Maclachlan's arm, followed quickly by a sectumsempra low to the inside of his leg. There was a lovely artery there, a very big one.
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They could both play at nasty little dark spells.
He flicked his wand to the side, sent a chair sailing toward her head, aimed a sectumsempra at her stomach. One or the other...
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