|Rabastan and Narcissa concoct a plan of seduction for the young Hermione Granger...|
|Rabastan and Narcissa concoct a plan of seduction for the young Hermione Granger...|
Come Cover Me
In war for the love of you
Time devours passion's beauty
Tonight any dream will do
Not a world but your fine grace
Seduction in sleepwalker's land
November dressed in May on your face
Holding us now the lovecropper's hand
Come cover me with you
come cover me now
Album: Wishmaster (Written by Erno Vuorinen, Jukka Nevalainen, Samii Vaenskae, Sami Petteri Tarja Turunen, Tero Kinnunen, Tuomas Holopainen • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc 2000)
Quand tu sauves une damoiselle, attention, fragile!*
A screech roused him from his nap. Bellatrix seemed excited about something. Deciding there was nothing for it, he elegantly apparated down the stairs and walked to the Dining Room. The sight that met his tired eyes should have gladdened his heart. Instead, it disgusted him. It was one thing hurting muggleborns one's own age but to attack the ones that could easily be children; that simply that was not Quidditch.
The Black motto: Toujours Pur, was taken to its fullest extent. No one had bothered to get to know Nymphadora Tonks before she was blasted off the tree for good. Casually he leant against the wood work panelling on the walls in the dining room of Malfoy Manor. Rabastan wondered if the Malfoy's motto was Always Blond. Judging from the portraits not one was raven haired like him or brunette like Andromeda Tonks. Salazar forbid there be a red headed Malfoy! Would not want them confused for a Weasley now, would we? He snorted rolling his eyes before coolly regarding the scene before him.
Lazily he swept his gaze around the room and saw Greyback and his pack of scoundrels holding onto three vaguely familiar looking prisoners. An ugly malformed boy with the look of mumps about him. A red headed baby weasel and a girl... he panned back to the girl. He recognised her as the mudblood. The clever chit that Dolohov almost killed in the Department of Mysteries. One of Greyback's crew was stroking her arm with his dirty fingernails. His eyes fixedly on her breasts. The way she breathed Rabastan could not blame him. His keen sea-green eyes took in the girls appearance.
Poor thing looks underfed. He preferred to dig his nails into flesh. She would need a bit of fattening up but he could well remember what she looked like in pictures before she was forced to be on the run. He watched as the Malfoy's pushed the wet blanket of a son into the fray. Bellatrix demanding to know if they were who Scabior and Greyback seemed to think they were.
Suddenly he stood up and spotted the sword in one of the Snatcher's hands. Gods, he gulped. Either these kids have got more guts than I thought or are incredibly stupid. The fact of the matter was someone was going to get it in the neck and he feared he knew whom Bellatrix was going to pounce on. He had to wait until the whelp finished and said a half-hearted lie over not knowing the three youths imprisoned in various scumbags clutches. The one he was worried about more so was the young witch. She was not a girl now. The way that Scabior was leering at her Rabastan knew he was looking at treasure. A Snatcher's eyes glowed like that in the presence of a gold mine or something valuable.
Reluctantly, Rabastan quietly pulled his attention back to the sword glinting mockingly at him whilst it ignored Bellatrix altogether.
Unfortunately, Bellatrix spotted the sword: “WHAT IS THAT!” she screeched. “TAKE THEM TO THE DUNGEONS!”
Rabastan chuckled at Scabior's disappointed look as he was about to lead Hermione of down to the prison of this ancient manor. Bellatrix latched onto Hermione's other scrawny arm pinching her pincers into the younger witch's skin piercing her young flesh.
“Except you, my dear,” Bellatrix grinned. “You and I are going to have a little girl to girl chat!”
“DON'T YOU BLOODY TOUCH HER. TAKE ME INSTEAD!” the ginger whelp screamed. “I SWEAR MALFOY, ONE HAIR ON HER HEAD AND I BURN THIS WHOLE BLOODY PLACE DOWN!”
He really was providing excellent entertainment for the jeering toe rags who laughed to a man at Weasel's antics. Rolling his eyes Rabastan waited until the idiotic duo were dragged down to the cellar. Scabior had hung back, fiddling about with his wand, a determined countenance set on his face. He shrunk further into the shadows. Rabastan wondered why the other man was wearing a girly scarf.
“Now,” Bella said deceptively calm walking around the dining room eyeing Hermione like she was a mouse to her cat. Rabastan though, saw fire in the Mudbloods eyes. This mouse would fight until her dying breath. “Let's play a game of truth or dare, shall we. Let me go first,” Bellatrix raised her fingers to her mouth giggling as if she was having a super time with her best friend and not about to torture a girl that could easily pass for her daughter in other universes. “Truth: Where did you get that sword?”
The young witch gulped. Rabastan could see her throat muscles move as her doe eyes widened in fear: “What sword?” she tried to sound nonchalant.
“That sword!” Bellatrix hissed as she pointed at the weapon now lying on the floor.
“I do not know,” Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
“Oh, come on, you must have forgotten the rules of truth or dare,” Bellatrix said in a manner that she was talking to the dumbest of witches, in reality, Rabastan could tell the mudblood was buying time. He could almost applaud her for trying to be Slytherin. “I pick Truth or Dare. If I pick Truth you have to answer the question, if I pick dare you have to do as I tell you, now let us try this one more time – and do not test my patience little mudblood.”
“My name,” the witch said as she casually threw some of her hair over her shoulder, “is Hermione Granger.”
“Your name is Undesirable No2.”
“I am Hermione Jean Granger. Have you been to see a healer about those teeth, my father would have fixed them for you – without pain medication!” she grinned impishly as Bellatrix dashed towards her but like the mouse to Bellatrix street cat, Hermione scuttled out of the way. The move caused the Malfoy trio to disperse, so Narcissa was one side of the room. Lucius was closer to Rabastan. Draco was out in the open with no protection. “My father is a dentist, you see, I grew up with screws being drilled into my teeth – with scrapers, little knives, needles. I grew up amongst what some consider to be the darkest of muggles. People tremble before my parents – what are you to me?”
Her lengthy taunt served to rile Bellatrix further. She raised her wand to aim at Hermione Jean Granger who dodged the hex in time. Rabastan heard Lucius painful gasp as they witnessed a Queen Anne chair shattered to a pile of firewood and fluff.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT SWORD?” Bella screeched. Rabastan twiddled his pinky into his ear to clean out the wax that noise brought up. “I WON'T ASK AGAIN!”
Effortlessly, Miss Granger dodged another curse but Rabastan could see that lack of food made her stumble about. During her little trip on a foot stall, Bellatrix aimed her wand: “This will cut you down to size,” the mad sister-in-law hissed. “CRUCIO!” she roared.
Hermione collapsed on the floor twisting, writhing as she was held under the spell, Bella's face could only be conjured by nightmares, twisting into unnatural angles of poisonous hate.
“Please,” Hermione begged earnestly. “I am telling the truth, we found it – we did not know where it came from but...”
“LIAR YOU'VE BEEN TO MY VAULT – ADMIT IT! YOU GOT YOUR MUDDY BLOODY SELF ALL OVER MY TREASURES...” Bella's eyes widened with only the coal fires of madness glinting in the centre of the dilated pupils. “I ask one more time,” she calmed down her tone of voice but the glint and contortions of a million agonising hexes passed through her mind. “Where. Did. You. Get. The. Sword,” Rabastan could see it took real effort for her to compose that sentence.
As Hermione was about to open her mouth to repeat the same answer Rabastan stepped in front of his sister-in-law, half an eye on Bellatrix, the other half on Scabior, he reserved a whole one on the girl. She was incredibly thin. However, she was hauntingly beautiful in her tragedy. It was about now that Rodolphus had to swagger by. Rabastan had to think on his feet if his plan was going to work.
“I think that is enough fun with her,” Rabastan said.
“But Rabby,” Bellatrix whined, stamped her foot like she did when she was six and pouted. “This stupid waste of space has been in our vault. I know it!”
Rabastan rolled his eyes and stared down at the girl still shaking from the violent Crucio she'd just been forced to endure. He could not believe he was once proud and capable of doing this.
“Then she should have been dealt with by all our charms and protection jinxes our ancestors placed in and around our vault. She does not appear battered, bruised or burned enough for me to consider that she may be telling the truth.”
Bellatrix sighed dramatically and folded her arms in a slouchy grump that was reminiscent of a teenager and pouted. “I s'pose,” she conceded glumly.
“What are we supposed to do with her now?” Lucius asked. Rabastan could see the beginnings of the same idea that had formed in Scabior's head. “We could play with her in other ways. I suggest my son takes her to...”
“Oh no you don't Lucius,” Rabastan said. “Do not even think of that. Having her here would control those moronic excuses of wizards she calls friends. Keep her here but in a nice bed... apologise for cruelties shown... we could,” he leaned into Lucius and whispered, “show we are gentleman first and foremost?”
Scabior then stepped out of the shadows: “I'll keep me eyes on her,” he volunteered eagerly.
“Yes, you would, along with your hands, fingers and tool too!”
“Hey, it's not only Lucius' destroyed wand that is 14 inches!” Scabior grinned. “She may be Undesirable No2 to the government but bloody hell, we are mostly men here,” he smiled. “I think we can all agree that if it was another list she'd be top desirable, wouldn't she?”
“So what?” Bellatrix scoffed. “She's pretty and you all lolly gag after her!” The mad witch snarled as she saw even her own husband surveying Hermione like a wolf would meat in a butchers shop. She snorted in disgust at the sight of drool dripping down Rodolphus' chin. “Get it through your thick skulls – she is a mudblood. SHE DIES!”
“No Bellatrix,” Narcissa spoke rising from her chair as regal as a queen. “She may respond better to seduction,” with this declaration she snapped her fingers and an elf appeared, the disgusting creature shuddered in its towel: “Ninny – Please sort the Teal Rooms for Miss Granger – give her everything she desires aside from her two friends Mr's Potter and Weasley!”
Ninny quivered and walked up to the still shivering girl. “Missy, Ninny helps you,” the elf said gently to an understandably timorous Hermione.
With that, the elf took Hermione to the Teal Rooms.
“I hope our Lord punishes you all for thinking with your dicks!” Bellatrix snapped.
“The main thing is,” Lucius sighed pinching the bridge of his nose, “that she won't be screaming bloody murder and the two whelps below won't try to foolishly escape. Sometimes, Bella, I wonder what you're thinking with because it certainly is not your rather questionable cerebral cortex.”
Bellatrix curled her lip and growled like a rabid dog before storming down to the cellar to vent her anger on the red head. Narcissa breathed a huge sigh of relief and walked up to her husband and proceeded to drag him to a secluded corner of the room, quickly she cast Muffliato.
“Now what do we do?” she asked. “Do we call the Dark Lord or...?”
“We wait,” Lucius asked. “We will allow Rabastan a little playtime with her and see if it yields the response we require.”
“We get her to Hogwarts under Severus' care. The man is as slippery as an eel.”
“What can we say to dissuade Rabastan from...” Lucius sighed and squeezed his wife's bicep.
“You were not this sentimental in the first war.”
Narcissa's eyes hardened: “I was not a mother in the first war,” she hissed as she cancelled the spell and walked into the centre of the room.
“If the girl does not speak,” Narcissa said to Rabastan and Scabior, “You two employ your...”
“Talents love,” winked Scabior, a matching smirk graced his lips.
“Quite,” Narcissa sneered as she carefully stepped back a few millimetres from the wretch, making sure the long skirts of her dress did not trail anywhere near the loutish brute. “If she does not respond to warm food, genteel kindness and Rabbie's flatteries then we shall call the Dark Lord. I shall go down to the dungeons and speak to the prisoners below.”
“That is if our dear sister has not harmed them,” Rabastan grimaced.
Narcissa turned her head and snarled at Rabastan: “Your slippery wand, as I know you refer to it as, had best not do your thinking for you,” she said coolly. “The girl needs to rest. She can barely stand right now. Remember that this is the residence of Earls, Dukes, and Lords... Not a farmyard barn full of bleating cattle.”
With that statement, she swept out of the room leaving behind a leering Lestrange, a smirking Scabior,and a humbled husband.
*(When rescuing a damsel... always handle with care!)