Chapter Six - Travelling
It was decided. Bellatrix and Severus would board the train to Edinburgh; where they would attend an Aristocratic party that was being held at the Borthwick Castle. On Voldemort's orders they were to pose as Newlyweds, and, after the party they would sneak into the dungeons below and snatch the Horcrux; a small metal armband of two entwined snakes. If anyone tried to stop them, they would kill them and dispose of the body.
All very simple. Snape thought as they sat on the train three days after the meeting, which trundled through the countryside. There is no way that Harry Potter would have even thought to look in the Borthwick Castle. It would be a breeze. The only thing to worry about...
Snape watched Bellatrix, who was sitting opposite him. She sat poised, watching determinedly out the window at the darkening skies and the snow-covered ground. Her thick black hooded cloak was stewn over the back of her seat, she wore a sweeping, violet cocktail dress, low cut, revealing a lot of soft, white breast, sculpted to her thin waist and generous hips, accentuating every curve in a way that made Snape shiver. Her eyes were lined with black kohl and coloured with a smudge of glittery deep purple eye-shadow, her lashes coated in a thick layer of mascara and her lips a deep plum. She looked magnificent, and even Snape could not deny this.
'What are you thinking?' Bellatrix said abruptly, turning to him. 'And why are you looking at me like that?'
Snape shook his head. 'I was just thinking how beautiful you look tonight.' His eyes scanned her body pointedly.
'You're a sexist prig, Snape. And there is honestly no need to be sarcastic.'
Snape smiled. Well actually he smirked, he had probably never truly smiled in his life. 'I was speaking the truth. And you know, tonight you will have to call me by my first name.'
Bellatrix looked as if she was about to argue, but sighed finally. 'Okay then... Severus.' The word rolled over her tongue like the hiss of a snake. She liked it.
In all truth she was pleased that thier silence was broken. There was one thing being aggravated and teased by Snape, but it was quite another having him avoid you, not look at you and not speak to you, or, heavans forbid, be scared of you.
Snape himself wore a silver ruffled shirt under a black frock coat, finely cuffed with a long slit up the back; black pinstriped trouseres and shined black leather boots. He had washed his hair and tied it back in a short horse-tail with black silk ribbon. Respectable, she supposed, and worthy of an aristocratic muggle disguise. She would refuse to admit that he looked anything more. She turned back to the window, feeling slightly naked under Snape's heavy gaze on her neck, her pale breasts. Why did he have to tease her like this?
Both of them were unaware of the little man who was in the next carraige.
Wormtail hid under a thick black cloak, a top hat shadowing his face; his left hand carressing his fake, silver right hand lovingly.
PR&R/rigamortis.