Lets dream together, you and I ...
Boring. Uninspired.
The camps were amusing enough, she supposed, but to what end? No one was dying apurpose, nothing was happening and no one was afraid.
And they thought they were so very covert. Bella raised her brow as one of them walked by, his ring glinting. If anyone knew how to hunt down ill-intent, she did, but they were a disappointing group, this Liberi, or whatever it is they called themselves.
Once she’d sniffed out what the common thread was - the jewelry they all wore filled with greed and purpose - Bella had found herself much disappointed. And slightly amused. They were so untried; besides the little lovely she’d seen at Azkaban, very few had blood on their hands.
It was all very quaint, really.
“What may I get you, mademoiselle?”
Bella raised her gaze and had the pleasure of watching awareness ripple beneath the server’s skin. Easy prey. Like a rabbit caught in the gaze of the snake. Though it was desire, just now, he thought at her.
Her lips curled. “Merlot. Full-bodied.” Which you, pet, would not be. The screams would be short-lived, I think.
“Of …” He stuttered, not sure whether it was a huntress or a seductress that he’d just found himself falling into. Maybe both. He swallowed. “… of course.”
Bella’s lips curled as she watched him walk away. It would be much like pinning a butterfly to a corkboard. Amusing, but not wholly satisfying. He was a snack, not a meal.
The fear/desire cocktail was always lovely, however. It would be very easy to make his mind hers should she ever have the need. Lucius had always been careless with such small pets, as had her husband. At the very least, they were good for a scream and a splash of blood, but many had a use outside of pain and death.
Her nails, long and vividly red, tapped against the table as her thoughts turned, but her attention was momentarily directed elsewhere as another of Maria’s little club members passed by the window she was seated behind.
Bella tipped her head.
This one was different. Her lips curled, lids heavy as she unfolded herself, still every inch the decorous noble as she moved sinuously from her chair and made for the exit.
It was amusing that she did not have to change her face to travel through Diagon. The wanted posters bearing her image showed her as she was when she’d been captured; crazed with anger at Tom’s disappearance and her own arrest. They all expected her to look old too, worn.
She chuckled to herself. They should know better. She enjoyed torment.
And there was most definitely something about the little chickadee she paced behind that was different. There was a void where fear should be. She was … hungry.
“Come little birdie, come to me," she sang softly to herself.
The skin on Tracey's right arm tingled, filling with goosebumps, the edge of her fingers going numb. This wasn't one of the side effects from her imprisonment. Those were the shaking and temple piercing pains that frequented her days.
No. This was something else.
Bella's lips curled slightly, lids hooded. She knew the moment the little birdie felt her watching.
It was but a murmur on her breath, a brush of her fingertips against her wand, and she disappeared in a light puff of smoke, slipping through dimensions, before reappearing just at the birdie's side.
"Hello, chickadee," she said, dusky blue eyes sliding to the face of the little fearless birdie, the hungry birdie. How very curious; delicate and soft, almost crunchy, and yet when those wide green eyes met hers, Bella saw what so few were able to accomplish. Madness contained.
Oh, what a good little actor. Bella's lips turned into a slow smile. "Who's voice do you hear, lovey?"
She didn't jump when the woman appeared next to her, just blinked at the small bit of wind that blew specs into her eyes.
"The important one," Tracey replied slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax and wringing her hand to put the feeling back in it. There was no use lying, she thought, could feel that the woman would have known anyways. The face was familiar, the press of bones under skin sparking memory.
Be careful, Maeve. This one knows without asking. Dangerous, my love. His voice was a soft whisper of concern and steely tenderness. Tracey could almost feel the play of fingertips on her lower back, and the press of lips against her ear.
Oh yes, there was madness in this one. She did not react the way most people did, did not fear or startle. Her eyes, though studying her own face, were both intent, but the personality was split, perhaps shattered in different directions.
Bella's gaze traveled over the little birdie, a smile curling her lips. Crunchy, perhaps, but she did so well at fitting in. "No one knows, do they pet?"
Tracey shook her head slowly, side to side, keeping her eyes on the woman in front of her, but not quite meeting her eyes. She was tempted, and her training and preference to meet people in the eye fought against instinct.
"No, only you."
"Mmm, that's because I can taste functional madness, chickadee," Bella said lightly, tempted to see if she could break the little bird or perhaps collect her.
She was no Meda or Cissy, not so headstrong and she didn't radiate with the heat of charisma or power, but the fine motif of instability and insanity patterned throughout the smaller woman before her was so unassuming that a person would never realize they might be in danger until it was too late.
That is, if the little birdie liked pain, liked blood.
She held out her arm for Tracey to link hers. "Tell me your name, pet."
"Tracey," she replied slowly, allowing her arm to touch the other woman's. It seemed... not safe, not right, but important that she do so.
"May I ask yours?" She wasn't sure if this woman would give her name, or if it would even be the truth, but there was power in a name.
"Bellatrix, dearie," Bella replied easily. There was no reason to hide who she was. She was in plain sight, even, and yet no one recognized her. Preconceived notions were a dangerous thing, though Bella had used such simple human folly to her advantage. "You may have heard I enjoy torturing people."
"I have heard something to that fact," Tracey replied, realizing that this was Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and that was the reason she was so familiar. Even though her parents weren't Death Eaters, every Pureblood knew the faces of their own.
"Is it going well for you?" She couldn't help the question; Tracey honestly did want to know.
Bella's lips curled into a smile. "Such things generally go well unless they can no longer scream or beg." She'd thought this one would be different. She could read all over her; the shatter in the depths of her eyes, the quiet, calm curiosity in her voice. How delightful.
She glanced over at the young woman, interest and amusement thickening the air around them. "Would you like to see how it's done, chickadee?"
Thrill raced down Tracey's spine.
Isn't this what you wanted, lovey? A way to get back at the ones who took me from you?
Greg's voice was soft and low in her head, almost a growl at the end, full of possession and longing. She shivered, missing him, his touch. Surely he would have approved, even encouraged learning such a skill. She was alone now, and didn't have him to support her; she needed her spine and her skills.
Tracey nodded her head, a smirk pulling at the side of her mouth.
"Mudbloods? Muggles?"
"They have blood," Bella nodded, filing away her little birdie's preference - and her weakness. "They scream, and yes, they beg," she added, dusky blue eyes hooded. She'd had pets, but none that were perfect for teaching.
"Soon?"
A warm chuckle slipped Bella's lips. Her plans were coming together nicely now, and it seemed a good sign she'd found this little one. Andromeda had always thought her devoid of any natural human instincts, but what she was experiencing just now could almost be called maternal.
"Come. I have a toy that we can play with." Meeting the now feverishly bright green gaze looking up at her, Bella's smile turned to something both sensual and dark. "I do think he'll like you more than he ought, but I shall teach you how to punish him properly, dove."
SUMMARY: Bella meets someone she wants to teach the things she knows. Tracey is most definitely interested in learning what she has to offer.
The camps were amusing enough, she supposed, but to what end? No one was dying apurpose, nothing was happening and no one was afraid.
And they thought they were so very covert. Bella raised her brow as one of them walked by, his ring glinting. If anyone knew how to hunt down ill-intent, she did, but they were a disappointing group, this Liberi, or whatever it is they called themselves.
Once she’d sniffed out what the common thread was - the jewelry they all wore filled with greed and purpose - Bella had found herself much disappointed. And slightly amused. They were so untried; besides the little lovely she’d seen at Azkaban, very few had blood on their hands.
It was all very quaint, really.
“What may I get you, mademoiselle?”
Bella raised her gaze and had the pleasure of watching awareness ripple beneath the server’s skin. Easy prey. Like a rabbit caught in the gaze of the snake. Though it was desire, just now, he thought at her.
Her lips curled. “Merlot. Full-bodied.” Which you, pet, would not be. The screams would be short-lived, I think.
“Of …” He stuttered, not sure whether it was a huntress or a seductress that he’d just found himself falling into. Maybe both. He swallowed. “… of course.”
Bella’s lips curled as she watched him walk away. It would be much like pinning a butterfly to a corkboard. Amusing, but not wholly satisfying. He was a snack, not a meal.
The fear/desire cocktail was always lovely, however. It would be very easy to make his mind hers should she ever have the need. Lucius had always been careless with such small pets, as had her husband. At the very least, they were good for a scream and a splash of blood, but many had a use outside of pain and death.
Her nails, long and vividly red, tapped against the table as her thoughts turned, but her attention was momentarily directed elsewhere as another of Maria’s little club members passed by the window she was seated behind.
Bella tipped her head.
This one was different. Her lips curled, lids heavy as she unfolded herself, still every inch the decorous noble as she moved sinuously from her chair and made for the exit.
It was amusing that she did not have to change her face to travel through Diagon. The wanted posters bearing her image showed her as she was when she’d been captured; crazed with anger at Tom’s disappearance and her own arrest. They all expected her to look old too, worn.
She chuckled to herself. They should know better. She enjoyed torment.
And there was most definitely something about the little chickadee she paced behind that was different. There was a void where fear should be. She was … hungry.
“Come little birdie, come to me," she sang softly to herself.
The skin on Tracey's right arm tingled, filling with goosebumps, the edge of her fingers going numb. This wasn't one of the side effects from her imprisonment. Those were the shaking and temple piercing pains that frequented her days.
No. This was something else.
Bella's lips curled slightly, lids hooded. She knew the moment the little birdie felt her watching.
It was but a murmur on her breath, a brush of her fingertips against her wand, and she disappeared in a light puff of smoke, slipping through dimensions, before reappearing just at the birdie's side.
"Hello, chickadee," she said, dusky blue eyes sliding to the face of the little fearless birdie, the hungry birdie. How very curious; delicate and soft, almost crunchy, and yet when those wide green eyes met hers, Bella saw what so few were able to accomplish. Madness contained.
Oh, what a good little actor. Bella's lips turned into a slow smile. "Who's voice do you hear, lovey?"
She didn't jump when the woman appeared next to her, just blinked at the small bit of wind that blew specs into her eyes.
"The important one," Tracey replied slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax and wringing her hand to put the feeling back in it. There was no use lying, she thought, could feel that the woman would have known anyways. The face was familiar, the press of bones under skin sparking memory.
Be careful, Maeve. This one knows without asking. Dangerous, my love. His voice was a soft whisper of concern and steely tenderness. Tracey could almost feel the play of fingertips on her lower back, and the press of lips against her ear.
Oh yes, there was madness in this one. She did not react the way most people did, did not fear or startle. Her eyes, though studying her own face, were both intent, but the personality was split, perhaps shattered in different directions.
Bella's gaze traveled over the little birdie, a smile curling her lips. Crunchy, perhaps, but she did so well at fitting in. "No one knows, do they pet?"
Tracey shook her head slowly, side to side, keeping her eyes on the woman in front of her, but not quite meeting her eyes. She was tempted, and her training and preference to meet people in the eye fought against instinct.
"No, only you."
"Mmm, that's because I can taste functional madness, chickadee," Bella said lightly, tempted to see if she could break the little bird or perhaps collect her.
She was no Meda or Cissy, not so headstrong and she didn't radiate with the heat of charisma or power, but the fine motif of instability and insanity patterned throughout the smaller woman before her was so unassuming that a person would never realize they might be in danger until it was too late.
That is, if the little birdie liked pain, liked blood.
She held out her arm for Tracey to link hers. "Tell me your name, pet."
"Tracey," she replied slowly, allowing her arm to touch the other woman's. It seemed... not safe, not right, but important that she do so.
"May I ask yours?" She wasn't sure if this woman would give her name, or if it would even be the truth, but there was power in a name.
"Bellatrix, dearie," Bella replied easily. There was no reason to hide who she was. She was in plain sight, even, and yet no one recognized her. Preconceived notions were a dangerous thing, though Bella had used such simple human folly to her advantage. "You may have heard I enjoy torturing people."
"I have heard something to that fact," Tracey replied, realizing that this was Bellatrix Black Lestrange, and that was the reason she was so familiar. Even though her parents weren't Death Eaters, every Pureblood knew the faces of their own.
"Is it going well for you?" She couldn't help the question; Tracey honestly did want to know.
Bella's lips curled into a smile. "Such things generally go well unless they can no longer scream or beg." She'd thought this one would be different. She could read all over her; the shatter in the depths of her eyes, the quiet, calm curiosity in her voice. How delightful.
She glanced over at the young woman, interest and amusement thickening the air around them. "Would you like to see how it's done, chickadee?"
Thrill raced down Tracey's spine.
Isn't this what you wanted, lovey? A way to get back at the ones who took me from you?
Greg's voice was soft and low in her head, almost a growl at the end, full of possession and longing. She shivered, missing him, his touch. Surely he would have approved, even encouraged learning such a skill. She was alone now, and didn't have him to support her; she needed her spine and her skills.
Tracey nodded her head, a smirk pulling at the side of her mouth.
"Mudbloods? Muggles?"
"They have blood," Bella nodded, filing away her little birdie's preference - and her weakness. "They scream, and yes, they beg," she added, dusky blue eyes hooded. She'd had pets, but none that were perfect for teaching.
"Soon?"
A warm chuckle slipped Bella's lips. Her plans were coming together nicely now, and it seemed a good sign she'd found this little one. Andromeda had always thought her devoid of any natural human instincts, but what she was experiencing just now could almost be called maternal.
"Come. I have a toy that we can play with." Meeting the now feverishly bright green gaze looking up at her, Bella's smile turned to something both sensual and dark. "I do think he'll like you more than he ought, but I shall teach you how to punish him properly, dove."
SUMMARY: Bella meets someone she wants to teach the things she knows. Tracey is most definitely interested in learning what she has to offer.