Feel The Flesh
Date: 21 March, 2001
Time: Evening
Location: Lestrange Manor
Characters Involved: Bellatrix Lestrange and Ciarán Malone
Rating: PG-13 for now
The formal dining room of the Lestrange manor had fallen into a terrible state of misuse. It had been more than a year since anyone had been entertained at the house. It had been nearly that long since Bellatrix had last dined with her husband. What need did one have with a formal dining room when they had no one to share meals with? Bellatrix’s fingers traced over the scrapes in the wood’s highly lacquered surface. They were made by her Lord in a fit of rage at an idea posed by Rodolphus. That was the very problem with reopening the house upon her release from St. Mungo’s. Memories were everywhere.
A few days ago it was when the house elves opened the room again. The musty air had been chased away and the dust cleaned from even the corners, but its neglect still hung in the large room like a shadow. It caused a scowl to creep across Bellatrix’s face that would send the elves scurrying from the room. She was tempted to send one of the grand candelabras after them. Even she knew that it would do little good and would likely just set the tapestries on fire.
Two place settings had been laid out at the end of the table nearest to the lit fireplace. The same end of the table as the scrapes. Neither of them, however, was in the chair He had once sat in. It was unthinkable. It was also the only side of the table nearest to the one working fireplace. It was a cold night, and there were only the candelabras and the fireplace to light the room.
As she waited Bellatrix leaned over to adjust the knife nearest her, her thumb tracing the sharp edge of the blade. Her hair, which was nearly the same color of her jacket, fell over her shoulder, and tickled the skin of her collar bone as she righted her posture. Everything was ready. It was perfect, even. It left nothing more for her do to than to wait in her restlessness.
Time: Evening
Location: Lestrange Manor
Characters Involved: Bellatrix Lestrange and Ciarán Malone
Rating: PG-13 for now
The formal dining room of the Lestrange manor had fallen into a terrible state of misuse. It had been more than a year since anyone had been entertained at the house. It had been nearly that long since Bellatrix had last dined with her husband. What need did one have with a formal dining room when they had no one to share meals with? Bellatrix’s fingers traced over the scrapes in the wood’s highly lacquered surface. They were made by her Lord in a fit of rage at an idea posed by Rodolphus. That was the very problem with reopening the house upon her release from St. Mungo’s. Memories were everywhere.
A few days ago it was when the house elves opened the room again. The musty air had been chased away and the dust cleaned from even the corners, but its neglect still hung in the large room like a shadow. It caused a scowl to creep across Bellatrix’s face that would send the elves scurrying from the room. She was tempted to send one of the grand candelabras after them. Even she knew that it would do little good and would likely just set the tapestries on fire.
Two place settings had been laid out at the end of the table nearest to the lit fireplace. The same end of the table as the scrapes. Neither of them, however, was in the chair He had once sat in. It was unthinkable. It was also the only side of the table nearest to the one working fireplace. It was a cold night, and there were only the candelabras and the fireplace to light the room.
As she waited Bellatrix leaned over to adjust the knife nearest her, her thumb tracing the sharp edge of the blade. Her hair, which was nearly the same color of her jacket, fell over her shoulder, and tickled the skin of her collar bone as she righted her posture. Everything was ready. It was perfect, even. It left nothing more for her do to than to wait in her restlessness.
