Rabastan Lestrange looked at the newest recruit. She wasn't much to look at, but from the tales he had heard, she was good at what she did.
He walked to where she stood and ran a finger down the side of her face, expecting her to tremble in fear as the others had done that had come before her. She stood there stoically, not moving a muscle. He leaned down and whispered in her ear the things he could do to her young body. He noted her eyes never flinched. He was becoming truly impressed with this young witch.
"You will do, for now. Never get your hopes up. New recruits come and go, and trust me, the pretty ones never last."
The girl looked up into the man's eyes. "Mr. Lestrange, isn't it funny that I don't consider myself a 'pretty one.' I'm sure the chimaera with my broomstick up its arse, didn't consider me a 'pretty one' just before I killed it. Personally, I would think about what you think the 'pretty one' can do to you and begin to worry. I will make your worst nightmares happen."
She then got an evil glint in her eye, "Besides, your sister-in-law is stronger than you will ever be…are you worried about her? Maybe you should think before you classify anyone as a 'pretty one.' Speaking of which, isn't that dear Bella coming now?" She turned her eyes back down towards the front and assumed a position of meek subservience.