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Over Coffee
"So," she looked at him over the coffee cup, "What are we to do now?"
"You're going to Azkaban," came his monotonous reply, his own cup untouched despite the wafting steam coming from the liquid. It was a waste, she thought, a damn waste.
"I suppose, if the ministry can catch me. I hear that Potter boy – the only who killed the Dark Lord – he's sworn to kill me?"
"You don't sound scared,"
She smiled; he hadn't changed a bit. Still the impolite, grudge holding loner that he always was. It surprised her that he even accepted her invitation to have coffee with her at a Muggle café. Then again, he must have been amused to see her – one of the most proud of the Death Eaters – resorting to hiding in the Muggle world.
"Why should I be? He's just out of Hogwarts," she said, taking a sip of the heavily sugared drink.
"He killed the Dark Lord – I'm surprised that you're not remotely sad that he's gone,"
"The Dark Lord," she mused, her smile reminiscent of the pretty girl she once was, "He was in decline, anyway; at least the last few months. And it was beginning to be so tedious, hiding away from the Ministry. Not to mention the many deaths I brought about, especially the accidental ones."
"You loved him?"
"You know me well enough to know the answer. I was pregnant with our child...I had a miscarriage after the Dark Lord preformed the Cruciatus curse on me. I suppose one could say that's when I was starting to think becoming a Death Eater wasn't the best idea in the world. My first child and he killed it," she had cried and cried when it happened but now she calmly took another sip of her coffee, lazily watching the once fellow Death Eater in front of her.
"A pity," he said sarcastically.
"Yes – I'm sure you'd kill the little whelp if it was still around, correct? Never did like my dear cousin,"
"I shouldn't speak ill of the dead-"
"But you shall, anyway," she grinned at him through the haze of her coffee, taking one last gulp of it and setting it down.
"You're leaving?" he asked, flicking his black eyes up at her.
"Please, don't sound so sad," she said sarcastically, getting up and pulling her beat up jacket around her, setting a five pound note on the table and turning back to him, "And do try the coffee, it's quite good."
A/N: Review, perhaps?