#c: bellattrix lestrange

[alastormagnusmoody]

When Moody had seen who it was, his grip on his wand tightened. It was common knowledge among the inner circle that Bellatrix Lestrange was more than she presented to be. Of course, they knew who she'd kept company with at school. It didn't take a genius to see which way she'd been headed.

Moody knew the first time he'd met her-- it had been something hidden in her eyes tha had told him. The look of a caged animal, barely restrained by a leash or a chain, wanting desperately to sink its teeth into the flesh of another.

Her offer made his lip curl in distaste. "I'd rather die." It was short, blunt, and to the point. He would rather die than dip into any form of dark magic, no matter the end results. The ends simply would never justify the means. "Not all of us are willing to sacrifice our integrity for personal gain, Lestrange."

The mission to kill Moody had gone awry. That night had filled Bellatrix with a wildly raging bloodlust. How he'd managed to escape, she would never understand. It was surely someone else's moronic fault, though the attack had been planned to the finest detail and she had not seen that anyone had stepped out of line. The knowledge did little to pacify her wrath that night. Neither did the recognition that Moody was tougher than old dragonhide boots. She failed to see how he had escaped the inferi, and barely managing to prevent from flying off the handle at Rabastan - since they were his domain - she'd turned her wand onto a lesser comrade instead and left him writhing in the dirt for allowing the escape.

So imagine her attention upon seeing Moody appearing outside the shop. Her head snapped to the side, heavy-lidded eyes ravaging with a potent cocktail of fury and abandoned delight. Yet she couldn't do anything here. Her fingers toyed with the potion bottle in her hand, long nails clacking against the glass as she gripped the neck and imagined his pasty flesh trapped beneath her palms instead.

"Madam Lestrange?" The owner was most insistent. Shoving the bottle against his chest, she completed her order while keeping a hawk's stare on the withering Moody all the while. My, my. The hip flash was a new addition. Alcohol was a weakness. No doubt his brain was unravelling and that ghastly leg was pitiable. Surely the Healers could do better than that.

Wrenching the door open, she made as much noise as possible and thrilled at Moody's desperate reaction.

"Hello, Alastor." A charming smile, her voice like velvet. The shop's cheery bell still jingled above her head, swinging a jarring timbre between her ears. She wanted to tear it down. But instead, she stepped out and shut the door firmly. "I was sorry to hear about your accident. Will you be returning to the Ministry soon?" Lowering her eyes, she slowly observed his peg leg and smoothed down the front of her dress, absently ridding it of common store dust. "You know, there is certain magic that might improve that leg. I don't think our employers would approve, but I don't see the harm if it's used for good."