Abraxas looked at Drusilla. No more the scrubby lad he'd mistaken her for in a gambling hell two short weeks ago, no longer on the run from abusive guardians, she lay on their bed with a smirk on her face.
An actual smirk.
He sometimes had to remind himself that he was not wholly a callow, untried youth when facing this woman. He'd killed people. He'd killed the leaders of the resistance, for Merlin's sake, and broken the last opposition to the Dark Lord's rule. He'd earned Lordship younger than any Death Eater in history. He'd been raised by a man whose habits were legendary and who'd not been unstinting in his education.
She was barely out of the schoolroom. She'd been educated at home; she hadn't even learned to manipulate people in the brutal halls of Hogwarts.
Though, as he considered the matter, the Lestranges had probably been fairly effective as teachers in that regard. Her history might be shoddy but her Dark magic skills were probably just as good as the vicious pleasure she'd taken in his father's present. That had been a bit of an eye-opener. So. Lord Nott intended them to remove Aunt Bellatrix from the power structure and insert themselves.
Well, he wouldn't weep to see that madwoman bleed out at his feet.
Now he studied the woman in front of him. She hadn't opted for a demure bridal negligee, which, he supposed, shouldn't surprise him. No white satin for this woman. The black lace that made up the corset she wore had to have been made by laborious hand; thanks to his father he had an eye for such things and this was no Muggle mass-produced tatting. The seams of her silk stockings were so perfectly straight she must have used magic to get them aligned and the garter holding them up looked almost afraid to fail in its task. The ribbons from her bridal gown were still tied about her neck and streaming down over the bed. No, she bore almost no resemblance, other than the look of mischief in her eyes, to the brat he'd first met.
That wasn't what made his breath catch in his throat, however. Any woman taken shopping in Paris by Lady Nott was sure to come back splendidly attired.
What made him have to remind himself that he was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake, was the blindfold she tossed him.
And that it was clear she didn't mean it to go on her.
~ finis ~
