Nellie had wanted to go away. She had been harping and nagging and begging and asking and nagging some more for a vacation for what felt like ages now.
She had wanted to go to the ocean, to the coast. But Bellatrix couldn't. The constant lapping and crashing of the waves on the sand was torture to Bellatrix, it was like being in Azkaban all over. For fourteen long terrible years, she had heard those horrible British waves lapping just outside her tiny little window; taunting her, torturing her with the promises of freedom and massive open sea of opportunity just outside her room, mere feet away from her but miles away for all intents and purposes. Listening to the distinctive pace of the lap of the English channel could bring Bellatrix directly back to Azkaban, the only thing missing was the sounds of screams; the screams of her comrades, her cousin, herself, the weird old guy she didn't know three cells down.
No. They had taken a day trip to the sea one day that had resulted in the deaths of a by standing muggle family and Mr. Todd and Bellatrix leaving one another severely bruised and broken while Nellie refused to speak to either of them for a week. There were no British coasts included in any of Nellie and Bellatrix's trips from now on, just a simple side-along apparition to whatever landlocked destination they had decided upon.
Sometimes Bellatrix did wonder about Azkaban and the very ethics of its existence. Bellatrix was arguably the most wretched human being in all of Britain, if not the world during her time, and even she wouldn't wish Azkaban upon the filthiest and muggle-iest of all filthy muggles or mudbloods. Spending the rest of your life being surrounded and overwhelmed by all your worst memories, anything good in your mind ripped from your very being as you lived in a stone hole with only the rats and your own filth for company was worse than even she could make up. Really, the wretched meals and bathing schedule alone made an hour of the cruciatus seem downright charitable in comparison. Much less the isolation and the dementors doing all that they did for emotional trauma. Yet that was what the "good" wizards of the "honest" life deemed to be a proper punishment for the various crimes of society. Bellatrix mused slightly on the thought of how many years she would have had to spend there for the crime of apparating a muggle alone.
Now though, was not the time to think of it. It would only sour their trip.
They had told Toby and the skunk of a barber that they were going on a trip to the country side for the weekend to talk about old relatives, and had instead apparated to Paris to spend some time together, and away, and (on Bellatrix's half at least) to shut up Nellie about the "fact" that they "never went anywhere, and never did anything." Also, Bellatrix spoke a little bit of French that she had learned from her late(?) husband's family, and that seemed to excite Nellie in the best of ways, so Bellatrix was more than eager to exploit an opportunity to use it as much as possible. If anything it would at least distract her from the bloody fucking sea.
And distracting it was apparently, not a second seemed to pass without Nellie oohing and ahhing and fanning herself in excitement over how incredibly exotic every baguette was. Bellatrix had long since learned to block out most of the jabbering, and was instead focused on trying to find an innkeeper and an inn so that she could further show Nellie what a very cunning linguist she was.
Fortunately, it was at the very moment that Bellatrix was seething to hex the next person to cross her path, that some maggot of a muggle stumbled into her and with an audacious hand, reached into her pocket.
Her fingers had no sooner found a loving grip on her wand than Nellie's tiny hands were buried in her shoulder shoving her and the fuzzy giraffe of a man through a door to their side. Had Bellatrix been less occupied with the smelling cur of a man before her, whose eyes had gone wide in a panic, she would have been quite impressed with Nellie's quick thinking and observational skills. But she wasn't thinking of Nellie at that moment, she was thinking of the disgusting military coat this bastard who dared try to pick-pocket her wore, and of exactly what shade it would turn when it had been washed with his blood.
Nellie was very soon at the forefront of her mind though, when her tiny little hand had wrapped around her own as Bellatrix pulled out her wand.
Her heart leapt more than she would ever dare to admit. It was something they had talked about in flirtatious whispers, both coming down from an orgasmic high, prolonging the lustful feelings through lustful speech. It was something that had excited them both, the idea of Bellatrix including Nellie in casting a spell sometime. Nothing serious, as much as it pained Bellatrix (and sometimes it was truly, physically painful) Nellie didn't have a speck of magic in her entire body, but the idea of her landlady/pet/lover's back pressed into Bellatrix's chest, her hand wrapped around Bellatrix's wrapped around her wand as she cast some devastating hex or curse, thrilled Bellatrix to her very core, and unfathomably deeper as her delightfully wicked Nellie visibly shivered with joy at the idea.
So how perfect was it now, that on their private little vacation together they could finally hex some useless stinking (a major pitfall of Bellatrix's life in this time period: everyone smelled absolutely horrid) shit of a man into blithering insanity. It was downright romantic, and even more so now that a woman had come crashing into the room, hair in a state and clothes in disarray, she was strangely attractive despite being a somehow obvious match to the man Bellatrix and Nellie were about to destroy. They could destroy a couple together! Bellatrix was so overjoyed her grin nearly split her face in two. She liked doing couples, it was like a two for one sale at Honeydukes.
Until she realized that Nellie's hand was not stilling on her own.
No.
The wretched woman had taken advantage of Bellatrix's momentary giddy weakness and disarmed her.
How dare she!? How bloody fucking dare any living creature, much less a muggle, even her own pet Nellie take any witches wand, particularly her own!?
Bellatrix would kill her. She didn't need her wandless magic or even her voice to do it. She would take the knife hidden in the bodice of her dress, skin the pie maker alive, bathe her in a solution of salt and lemon juice, then rip her every limb from her body with her bare hands! Then, when the wisp of a thing had finally bled to an agonizing death, Bellatrix would make use of the skills she had learned on Fleet Street, and for the dramatic irony alone, make Nellie Lovett into a pie.
She didn't care about the woman who had entered the room, or the man nearly pissing himself at her feet, or even the officer who had come blundering in after them demanding to know what the commotion was about. Bellatrix didn't pay a word of attention to the woman's fast speech or Nellie's large simpering doe eyes as she played the role of a lost tourist while the man stood by quietly. Bellatrix cared only about her wand, which she watched swiftly disappear into Nellie's bodice as the three ran around trying to convince the muggle auror to leave. Bellatrix felt only the cold sharp metal she had slipped into her own bodice and the burning hot rage that smoldered within her core; its strength so strong that it left her paralyzed, her frustration at her own inaction only further feeding the flame.
She was so consumed by red by the time that the useless old muggle auror came round to talk to her, Bellatrix found her very vision and soul blazing with an inferno so hot the flames had created a layer of smoke so dense and heavy it filled her eyes with black, and her soul with soot. She felt her entire being vibrating with an excitement over which of these wretched muggles she would kill first; she had let them all live far too long.
Finally in a raging blaze of glory inside her soul, the fact that the fifth man was a police officer struck her. She had never really been one for authority figures, letting only one person in her entire life give her an order, but he was dead, and she was his second-in-command, meaning that she now had dominion over all living things, so this man, the muggle with his ridiculous ropes and shining medals adorning him like a bloody Christmas tree was particularly laughable, and as such, needed to be the first eradicated.
It was brilliant really, and yet another spark set alight within Bellatrix's already inferno like inner being with the joy of it, and she felt it burning, singeing, smoldering its way up through her throat as if she were about to breathe fire from her lungs, a vicious cackling laugh sprang from Bellatrix's belly and out her mouth, echoing much too loudly and much too long, then longer still as the muggle auror stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes bulging, and body shuddering, let out a desperate gasp and fell to the ground with a ridiculous smacking sound.
Bellatrix was quite impressed with herself.
Granted, she was a bit more prone to accidental magic than others since her time in Azkaban and her subsequent… moodiness, but even still those fits were more likely to burst every window in Cissy's house, or set Lucius's hair on fire, or make the wallpaper melt, or shatter Lucius's ridiculous cane, or any number of things that really just served to make Cissy angry with her. Killing a man, the precise one she had wanted dead, purely through uncontrolled magic and therefore wandless, wordless, and generally undirected was positively impressive.
She wanted to celebrate. So she couldn't kill Nellie for taking her wand now, whatever. Bellatrix wasn't particularly keen on going to the market today for lemons anyway. It could wait.
In a remarkably better mood, Bellatrix hopped in place once quickly before bounding over to stand atop the dead man and address her dumbfounded audience of three (well, two were dumbfounded, the other had a bit more understanding of what had happened, but was still understandably confused, and therefore obviously growing more impatient with Bellatrix by the second.)
"So, muggles. I am the one who made this man die, and that deserves a party wherein each and every one of you, will do exactly as I please. Because I am a kind and benevolent leader I will give you an hour with which to prepare for the party and to fetch the items from a list of things I will require.
"First, each of you is to make me a splendid party hat out of colorful paper, which you will then present to me. The maker of the best hat wins the wonderful knowledge that I will wear it, while the maker of the worst will be subjugated to my further practicing of wordless, wandless death making."
They weren't scurrying about trying desperately to begin making her party hats. Nellie was the only one who seemed to be listening, however rudely with a hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised. The other two were too busy shaking their heads and mouthing things at each other as they glanced quickly between Bellatrix, the dead muggle, and a barrel of ale. What was wrong with them? Were they deaf? Or suicidal, or-
Oh, yes, they were French.
Briefly, Bellatrix considered repeating herself in their native tongue before another, even better thought struck her. She was the one with the power to laugh someone to death, and she had inherited dominion over all living things even if all the animal kingdom, muggles and wizards included, had yet to fully realize. She wasn't going to stoop down and "speak their language" so that they may better "understand" her instructions. No!
She was saying this in her own language and that was final, and it was only because she, again, was a kind and benevolent leader that she would teach them English, so to speak.
Without another word, Bellatrix pounced onto a bored Nellie and reached into her dress.
Nellie had waited an instant to start squaking about "not the time or place" but Bellatrix could barely care enough to listen as her wand seemed to glide into her hand, despite the tight compress of Nellie's flesh against corset. Magic really was wonderful.
Thinking back to charms class, Bellatrix tried to focus all of her attention on some spell tiny little Professor Flitwick had squeaked out during her fifth year.
It was kind of a vague blur of a sound in her memory, but Bellatrix was certainly not known for her patience, and with a growl of "close enough" Bellatrix focused everything she had on the memory of Flitwick's tiny little voice, and impatient but vibrating with excitement imagined pushing the memory through the wand in lieu of a spell.
The fuzzy man who had started all this mess dropped to his knees and clutched his ear.
"Jesus…fucking…christ! My ear, my ear you madwoman! What do you think you're doing?"
Well, he was speaking English so it had at least had some of the desired effect.
A bit of blood dribbling from between his fingers from his ear showed that maybe something, somewhere, MIGHT, have been a little amiss, but no matter.
Nellie however was bored, and had begun to wander around the lower level of the building.
Time for the woman.
She however, had an advantage in seeing Bellatrix raise her wand, and sprang into action trying to talk her way out of it.
Hands raised she began her babbling and pleading.
"Please forgive my husband, he's a lying louse really. There's no reason at all you need me. Really, here, take him." She kicked him then, in the general direction of Bellatrix, and that seemed to set him off.
"What?! No! Never. My wife, and I, we joke, often, we do." He stood then, one hand clasped to his ear as the other arm tried to wrap around the woman's shoulders. She wasn't having it, and wiggled away, doing her very best to put herself behind him, and bring him as close to Bellatrix as possible. The man continued on though.
"Really, truly we're in love, and a decent caring person wouldn't dream of separating us. Really, her too- do her too."
Bellatrix did have to admit, torturing couples was always far more fun than wearing a fancy hat. But watching them try to trade the other for themselves, that was one of the very best things. She would be remiss if she didn't do all she could to prolong it.
But now that they had both completely lost their cool and had started blabbering at the same time, as they did a little dance trying to use the other as a human shield, Bellatrix found trying to translate the woman and still hear the man absolutely exhausting.
"FUCK! Ahhhhhhh. You couldn't have just let him go and been done? I would have baked you a pie in thanks."
Nellie's voice rang clear as her head popped round one of the door ways.
"Thanks but no thanks, love. I think we might be related actually. By the looks of the kitchen I think you might be workin' off the same family recipe I used to."
After a brief look of confusion, followed by the tiniest glint of horrified understanding of Nellie's meaning, it was soon shaken off and the couple had begun arguing again.
There was less blood dripping from the woman's ear than ever was from the man's, which while certainly was technically a good thing, did leave Bellatrix just a tad disappointed.
She was very fond of watching muggles bleed.
While it had been entertaining enough for a few sentences and shoves, Bellatrix (who was considered patient by no one's standards, ever) was finding their pathetic antics more tedious by the second, and decided she would really have much more fun by actually scaring them.
Choosing to start simply, and then work her way very slowly up, Bellatrix began her slowest, most intimidating walk (she used to practice in front of the mirror when she was a little girl) toward the blabbering French, and raised her wand.
That did the trick.
They might not know all the intricacies of wizarding society, or the current exchange rate of a franc to a galleon, but they had obviously put together "witch" and "wand"; or at least "mad English woman with a stick" and "trouble" and really, what more could Bellatrix ask for?
Their tone changed quickly as they began to slink away, matching each of Bellatrix's forward steps with a backward one of their own.
Even their speech patterns had changed. Bellatrix could hardly be bothered to actually listen to whatever it was they were going on about, but tonally at least they were incredibly interesting. There was a drastic change from frantic squabbling and blaming to an even, rehearsed cadence as they began to speak together, easily picking up from whatever sentence the other had just finished and adding to it with their thick accents. Their mouths may have been practiced at speaking with each other, but not yet with their new language. Every time an increasingly frequent "bloody hell" came out Bellatrix couldn't help but laugh at the resulting "bludee elle" and was very quickly becoming more distracted every second. So much so, that through a haze of giddy tears Bellatrix couldn't entirely make out the man wrapping his hand around the handle of a gun mounted on the wall.
She did however make out very clearly Nell flying out from a doorway, and in one smooth and disturbingly easy movement motion, cracking what seemed to be a rolling pin across the man's skull, dropping him to his knees before she grabbed the pistol herself and shoved it into a pocket of her own. Bellatrix couldn't help but rub a phantom injury on the top of her own head.
No matter how horribly enraged Bellatrix really still was with Nellie over the incident with the wand she had to admit, she was an entirely different, and far more clever, species of muggle.
Also, Nellie Lovett was positively terrifying with a rolling pin.