A / N : Um . . . should I have a warning for this chapter? It seems alright to me, but then again, I wrote it. Just in case – it gets a little bit gory. Mild torture scene. But then again, this is a fic about Bellatrix, so is that really so unexpected?
Twisted Logic
"Ow! Ow! Please, Miss Black, please stop! Miss Black is hurting Dobby!"
"Then tell me the truth!"
The elf shook his head and curled into a ball on the floor, bracing himself against further blows.
"Dobby can't," he muttered feverishly. "Dobby is a good house elf, Dobby is keeping his master's secrets! Dobby isn't telling them to anyone, no matter what they does to Dobby . . . ."
Bella snapped. Kicking the elf a final time, she crossed to the fire and pulled the poker from it. Then she knelt down beside the creature and pressed the red hot tip into the hollow of his neck.
"Tell me the truth!" she ordered, holding the brand in place as Dobby screamed in protest. "Now!"
She withdrew the poker when the smell of burning flesh became too much to bear. The elf stopped screaming instantly, biting down on his fingers to muffle the sound. There was a mark on his neck now, a blackened stripe of blistered flesh. Bellatrix raised the poker again, holding it inches from his skin, and breathing hard.
"Well?" she panted. "Are you going to tell me? Or shall I do that again?"
The elf didn't meet her gaze. Drawing his knees up to his chin, he whimpered quietly, tears pouring from his bulbous green eyes. "Dobby isn't telling his master's secrets," he mumbled desperately, "Dobby is a good house elf. Dobby is . . . Dobby is a good house elf . . ."
"A good house elf?!"
Bella screamed and flung the poker to the ground. It hit the floorboards with a thunk that made the elf flinch.
"Dobby," she said disgustedly, "is not a good house elf. Shall I tell you what Dobby is? Shall I?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Dobby is an ungrateful, neglectful, disgusting piece of slime. Shall I show you what Dobby caused? Shall I? Shall I show you what a good house elf Dobby really is?"
Dropping to her knees, she ripped the silk scarf she was wearing from her neck. "There!" she snarled. "Take a look. What do you think? Is Dobby really a good house elf?"
The elf trembled, his eyes widening in horror as they travelled down her neck, taking in the wreath of ugly purple bruises decorating her throat. He rocked back and forth, tears leaking from his eyes again, but he seemed at a loss for words.
Point made, Bellatrix straightened up and dropped back into her seat, her cheeks a blazing, angry scarlet.
"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to tell me why your master almost killed me? Or shall I find another way to make you?"
The elf let out a frightened squeak and shook his head. "N-no," he stuttered at last. "Dobby will tell Miss Black . . . Dobby is a bad elf, Dobby has failed his family . . ." He broke off, sobbing.
Bellatrix allowed him thirty seconds of self-pity while she regained her breath, and then she drummed her fingers against the arm-rest, growing impatient. The elf took the hint immediately. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he blew his nose loudly on his toga and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Dobby . . . Dobby doesn't really know where to begin, Miss Black," he said nervously.
Bella scowled. "The beginning is surely the most sensible place in which to begin," she said scathingly.
The elf jumped. "Of – of course, Miss Black! The beginning. . . the start . . . Well, Dobby supposes it all began with – with the young mistress."
Bella frowned. "You mean Lucius' mother?" she clarified.
Dobby nodded. "Yes, Miss Black. The young mistress . . . that's where it all begins." He hesitated. "If – if Dobby may ask, how old is Miss Black?"
Bella smacked him for his impudence, and then she settled back in her seat, considering the question. Perhaps it wasn't so impudent after all . . .
"Sixteen," she conceded. "Not that I see what that has to do with anything."
The elf shivered. "No, Miss, nothing. Dobby was only trying to remember," he said rapidly, "Dobby meant no rudeness. Let's see . . . . the young mistress was one year older than Miss Black when she came to live here."
Bella frowned, feeling slightly sickened. Seventeen . . . ."How old was Abraxas?" she asked.
The elf dropped his gaze to the floor. "Fifty," he said quietly. "The master was fifty."
"I'm guessing this was an arranged marriage," she said coldly.
Dobby nodded. "At first," he continued, "everything was nice. The young master was born, and the mistress liked the house, and the pretty gardens, and she went to parties, and she was happy. But . . the master . . ."
"What about him? What did he do?"
The elf winced. "Dobby thinks," he said at last, "that the master did love her, in his way. But it was hard for him. The mistress was so young, and the master didn't know to be, he wasn't used to having a mistress in the house. So sometimes . . ." - he cringed at the memory - "sometimes the master lost his temper, and did things he didn't mean. He was always sorry afterwards, he always tried to make it up to the mistress . . . . but . . . . Dobby doesn't know. Dobby doesn't think it was enough. Because one day . . ." - his voice dropped to a tortured whisper - "the mistress did a bad thing. A very bad thing."
Bella frowned. "What did she do?"
But the elf shook his head. "No," he said defiantly. "Dobby liked the young mistress. She was nice to Dobby. She only reminded Dobby to do his extra punishments twice a week, and once" - his chest puffed out proudly - "she even said "thank you" to Dobby. Dobby won't tell her secrets. Dobby won't."
Bella sighed. It didn't matter. She could guess, anyway, what 'the young mistress' had done. "Fine," she snapped. "Just go on with the story."
The elf quivered, twisting one of his bat-like ears as though hoping to pull it off. "Dobby is a bad elf, telling the master's secrets," he mumbled. "Dobby deserves to punish himself . ." He balled his tiny hands into fists and began to pummell his own stomach, knocking himself onto the floor.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Picking up the cooling poker from the floor, she whacked him over the head with it. "I'll punish you afterwards," she said impatiently. "Don't interrupt the story."
The elf's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Miss," he squeaked.
Bella waved a hand and made to reach for the poker again. "The story," she reminded him.
"Oh! Yes . . . . um. . . Dobby forgets where he was . . ."
"The mistress," Bella supplied. "She did a bad thing, most likely involving another man. Does that sound familiar?"
Dobby's eyes widened. "Yes," he said quickly. "The mistress did a bad thing . . . and the master found out." He twisted his hands in his lap, looking unhappier than ever. "The young master was five years old then."
"Lucius?"
"Yes." The elf stared intently at a knot in the floorboards, and when he next spoke, the words came in a rush. It looked as though he was fighting the urge to be sick. "Dobby remembers it well . . . . The young mistress was in a rush. She was frightened, and she was looking for things. . . And then the master started to shout for her."
"What happened?" Bella asked.
The elf squeezed his eyes shut. "The mistress left," he replied. "She gave the young master to Dobby, and ordered Dobby to keep him locked in the nursery, until she came to get him. And Dobby obeyed. Dobby stayed in the nursery with the young master, even though the young master didn't like it one bit. The young master was very fond of his mother back then, and he didn't like that she was leaving him. He screamed and screamed until he was sick, and he hit Dobby and bit Dobby, but still Dobby didn't let him out. Dobby obeyed his orders. And Dobby knew the mistress and the master were fighting, and breaking things, and shouting at each other, but the young master was throwing such a temper tantrum that Dobby couldn't hear them." He shuddered. "Dobby waited for hours, Miss Black. Dobby obeyed his orders, but Dobby started to get worried then, because the mistress didn't return. So Dobby went to look for her." He paled.
A creeping feeling of apprehension stole over Bellatrix. "Did you find her?" she asked quietly.
The elf nodded. "She was dead," he whispered. "She fell down the stairs."
A chill ran down her spine. "Where was Abraxas?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. She still needed to hear it, somehow.
The elf raised his face to hers with a tortured expression. "At the bottom of the stairs," he said miserably. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes seemed to glaze over, as though he was seeing something that wasn't there.
"The master wasn't in his right mind," he said desperately. "So Dobby had to help him. Dobby had to take him away and clean him up, because Dobby couldn't call the Healers, or the Aurors, or anybody, the way the master was behaving. And when the master was better, he called the Ministry, and told them there was an accident . . . . " He met her gaze at last. "Dobby did the right thing," he said anxiously. "Dobby couldn't let the young master lose both his parents in one day, it wouldn't have been right . . . . Dobby did the right thing." He shivered.
Bella stared. "And where," she said slowly, "was Lucius?"
Dobby trembled. "In the nursery," he said in a small voice. "Dobby forgot about him."
Bella raised an eyebrow. "Forgot him?" she repeated incredulously. "For how long?"
The elf buried his face in his hands, ashamed. "Dobby went to get him the next day," he whispered.
"You locked him in a room for twenty four hours?" she exclaimed, appalled.
Dobby nodded. "Dobby doesn't think," he said tremulously, "that the young master remembers it." He swallowed. "He was very . . . . strange . . . . when Dobby went to get him. He didn't say anything at all, for a long time, after that. Dobby doesn't think," he mumbled, "that he was ever quite right again afterwards . . . ."
"No," Bella said coldly. "I imagine he wasn't."
"And the master was never the same either . . ." the elf mumbled.
Bella fell silent, brooding. Getting to her feet at last, she put the poker back in the fire and raked the coals with it, watching them crumble into glowing embers.
"Dobby?" she said calmly.
"Y-yes Miss Black?"
"I'm going to punish you now," she continued, just as calmly.
The elf swallowed audibly. "Y-yes Mi-" His words were cut off by a scream as the poker pressed into his neck once more. This time, Bella didn't remove it, not even when the acrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils and she had to struggle not to throw up. Instead she watched, inexplicibly fascinated, as the elf screamed away his air supply, until his eyes rolled back in his head and only the whites were visible. His back arched and he shuddered uncontrollably, until, finally, she removed the brand. Then he slumped, motionless, to the floor. The tears seeping silently down his cheeks were the only indication he was even alive. Bellatrix let the poker fall into the fire again, and then she bent down to examine her handiwork. The mark on the elf's neck was only black around the edges now. The rest of it was a raw, shining pink, cutting straight down to a gleaming stretch of yellowish-white. Bone.
"You can go now," she ordered, as soon as he started to stir. "Oh, and Dobby?"
Dobby mumbled something that might have been "yes miss", swaying on the spot.
"You can give yourself a week's worth of punishments on top of that."
The elf gave a lopsided nod - blanching as he did so - and then he tottered out of the room.
A wheezing laugh sounded from somewhere behind Bellatrix.
"Well," a hoarse voice announced, "it looks like you'll have no problem fitting in, anyway."
Bella spun round, alarmed. Dolohov was leaning against the armchair, wearing a rather crooked grin and looking distinctly worse for wear. His hair was matted with blood near the temple, and one of his eyes was puffed-up and swollen looking. He laughed again, pressing a hand gingerly to his ribs. Bella scowled.
"How long have you been there for?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "A while."
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's bad manners to apparate into a room without knocking?"
He only shrugged again.
"Fine," she snapped. "Be as rude as you like. It's not my house anyway." She took a deep breath. Temper, temper . . . "What are you doing here? And what happened to you?"
"One question at a time, surely?" Bellatrix had the feeling he was mocking her.
"Fine," she growled. "What happened to you?"
She chose the question that would probably make him the most uncomfortable to answer. Sure enough, his mouth twisted in a sour smile.
"I meddled in something that was not my concern," he said bitterly. It sounded like a direct quotation, somehow.
Bellatrix frowned. "And what are you here for?"
He gave an odd, coughing sort of laugh, spraying blood across the carpet.
"To meddle in something that isn't my concern."
"What?"Bella could only control her temper so long. And when people are deliberately vague and irritating, it doesn't help, she thought angrily.
Dolohov only smiled, if one could call the twisted thing he produced a smile.
"I have a present for you," he said obliquely, withdrawing a flask from inside his coat.
Bella stared at it. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Well that depends on what you think it is," he said, infuriatingly. He flipped the lid open. "Have a look."
Bella was at his side in an instant. She peered into the flask, which contained a thick, glutinous green potion. The stench that rose up from it was something between rotten eggs and overcooked cabbage.
"Ugh. Polyjuice Potion," she said. Feeling simultaneously disgusted and delighted, she put out a hand to take it.
"Not so fast." Dolohov flipped the lid shut and raised the flask above his head, out of her reach. "You don't get something for nothing you know."
Bella glared at him. "Dream on," she said coldly. "I'm not that sort of girl."
"What sort of girl?" he deadpanned.
Bella crossed her arms and shot him a filthy look. "A slut," she clarified. He laughed.
"Glad to hear it."
"Then what do you want?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know yet. But I will want something. Information . . . anything. Let's just say you owe me a favour."
Bella considered it. "So," she said cautiously, "A favour for a favour. A favour which, just to be clear, does not involve me whoring myself?"
Dolohov nodded. "That's right. A fair swap. And by the way," he laughed, "demanding payment in sexual favours is really a bit beneath me. For future reference."
"Glad to hear it," Bella quipped in return, not troubling to keep the mocking edge out of her voice.
He lowered the flask, and held out a hand. "So, do we have a deal?"
She considered it for all of thirty seconds.
"We do."