Live and Let Die

"You want to stay here and have a drink? Is that safe," Bramble asked, disapproval in the elf's every word.

"No one's going to visit Skeeter, so it is indeed safe," Rabastan said, heading for the kitchen. "What better way to celebrate than by drinking the fire whisky of your enemy?"

"Victim," Bellatrix corrected with a cackle. "She is our enemy no more, and as we have quite thoroughly killed her, she is now our murder victim."

" I'll drink to that," Rabastan called from the kitchen.

"Murder victim… How crass," Gellert complained, leaning against the bathroom door. "She is a prisoner of war that we have executed."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Whatever allows you to sleep better at night, Boss," she retorted almost fondly. "I think we should keep the glasses as souvenirs," she added after a moment.

"Brilliant idea!" Rabastan called. "So are we going to drink in the bathroom over her dead body or are you lot coming in here?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I'm for drinking over the body and toasting her death repeatedly while smiling into her dead eyes, but I doubt Grindelwald and his boy toy have the stomach for it."

"True, we don't," Grindelwald said. "And I am HIS boy toy, I'll have you know." The two men smiled at one another in a way that made Bellatrix's stomach turn.

"Gods, get a room," she drawled, moving toward the bathroom door, forcing Grindelwald to dart to the side and out of her way. "Goodbye, Rita, you worthless cow," she called over her shoulder before exiting.

"Yeah, enjoy your bath, Beetle Brain," Rodolphus added as he followed.

When they entered the kitchen, Rabastan passed around short crystal glasses filled with fire whisky. "Rot in hell, Rita Skeeter, how we will not miss thee," he intoned happily, raising his glass in a toast. Everyone touched their glasses to his, even the mildly disapproving Bramble.

"Well," Gellert asked eagerly after taking a sip. "What did you get from putting her to the question?"

Bellatrix sighed dreamily, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a brief moment. "Lots of interesting screams...and there was dancing!"

Grindelwald's lips twitched. "Yes, yes, but what did Skeeter do?"

Rabastan snickered. "Good one! She screamed and danced too, though."

"And did she confess anything interesting?" Gellert pressed, unmoved by Rabastan's humor.

Bellatrix shrugged, glancing over to see Rod doing the same. "It seems she isn't working directly for anyone, but she had some dreams that perhaps drove her stories, or at least some of them," Rod said. He frowned. "It was all bloody vague and annoying," he complained.

Blaise frowned back. "What? Couldn't you lot get better out of her than that? Couldn't the amount of pain you inflicted pierce through her veil of vagueness?"

Bellatrix scowled, but Rod replied before she could do so which was probably a good thing. "The point was that she was vague, because she did not seem to know herself," he explained a little tartly. "Oddly she wasn't certain if it was her or Delphini who made the ridiculous claim concerning Bellatrix first, as if her memory was tampered with."

Grindelwald frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting indeed."

"Fuck, should we have told you that before we killed her so you could check her head," Rabastan asked worriedly.

Gellert shrugged. "Perhaps, but if she was being used, she obviously knows nothing of how or by whom so she couldn't have told us. The best thing is to remove her from the equation and you all did that."

Bellatrix gave him a mad grin before downing the rest of her drink. "Always happy to serve."

"Glad to hear it," Gellert said drily, then turned to the elf at his side. "Bramble, could you make sure the note that Rita kindly left for the world has no blood spatters on it?"

The elf nodded, then polished off his own glass before passing it to Blaise and walking from the room. He wore a sort of long, black tunic covered in spider web designs. Not as impressive as Harold's plague doctor getup, but it would do, Bellatrix thought.

"There was more blood on her clothes than the tub," Rodolphus observed. "I don't think the tub got any on it at all. We didn't bleed her that much."

"Yeah," Rabastan chimed in. "We were trying to be good, only losing a bit of control along the way."

"True enough," Bramble said, walking back into the room. "The paper was clean."

"Good," Gellert said with a satisfied nod.

"So do you think Rita's vague mention of dreams has anything to do with Jekyll," Bellatrix asked, taking a sip from her glass.

"More likely his dream enemy," Grindelwald said. "I shall have to speak with him on the matter to be certain, or rather, with the uncle of his lady. His name is Felix. He can communicate with us the best. He is a truly gifted dream wizard."

"So he talks to you in your sleep," Rabastan asked and Gellert nodded.

"Weird but impressive and intriguing," Rabastan said, pouring himself a second glass. "Anyone else want another?"

"The glasses are small...why not?" Rodolphus said, and with that everyone held out their glasses for a refill. As Blaise still held two, he passed one to the elf when Rabastan had filled it.

"What will you do with the quill, then," Bellatrix asked Gellert after taking a swallow from her glass.

"Run some magical tests on it," he replied.

"She didn't know what we wanted when we asked about the power of her written words," Rodolphus said with a frown of frustration. "How can the cow be so evil and not even understand the true power she wields?"

"Many in her place do not, believe it or not," Gellert said gravely. "Someone else is pulling their strings and they aren't even aware. At other times, their own pasts do it."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Rabastan complained.

"As my therapist has explained to me, the opinions of many are formed by their childhoods. If this childhood was lacking, at times the person can use those lessons they have learned negatively in their adult years, warping their perceptions."

Grindelwald had a therapist? Bellatrix downed the rest of her drink.

"You mean like how we all learned to hate Muggles," Rabastan asked.

Bellatrix was suddenly extremely uncomfortable.

Grindelwald nodded, obviously correctly including himself and Blaise in Rabastan's inclusive 'we'. "I'm sure you could all benefit from my therapist as well, if you chose to do so," he said and Bellatrix hastily extended her glass to Rabastan for more drink.

"The bottle is empty," Rabastan said with a shake of his head.