The Lestrange behind it all {M.R.}

𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘 𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎

I tossed the photos onto the counter, and they scattered. Draco Malfoy's eyes shot down onto them, and he leaned against the table, before picking one up.

"What is this?" he acted as he put the photo down. "Belle?"

"What is it?" I laughed. "Quite a charade, Malfoy. You can quit the act now."

He grew a deep frown. "I'm not putting up some silly act for you, Riddle. What the hell are these?" he asked, pushing the photos back at me.

I picked one up and turned it around before tossing it back in front of him. His eyes moved down to the note that was supposedly Henderson's.

"I mean, it has been some years since I saw your handwriting. Took me a while to realize that it was yours."

Malfoy's eyes shot back up to me, and I saw a glimpse of realization in them. "Riddle, I-"

"You framed Kyle, why?"

For a moment he was silent, and I saw confusion on his face. Then he frowned slightly. "That's your first question? Why?"

I lift my eyebrows, watching him stand back up. "I have a bunch, but I'm starting with the one that confuses me the most. I thought you liked Henderson?"

He looked down at the photos, and I saw his confused mask falter. "You know what he does to her," Malfoy said, standing back after tossing the pictures back onto the table. "Most of these photos are even from his own camera. He took them of her-"

"Why did you send them to me?" I asked.

Malfoy sighed, dropping down in a chair. "Because you can get the job done, Riddle. I thought you'd actually kill him - especially for taking photos of her naked, behind her back."

"Kill him yourself," I said, and Malfoy scoffed digging his hands into his pockets.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"He works for the ministry," he stated, and I scoffed.

"Seriously?" I chuckled. "You're scared of the ministry?"

Malfoy stayed silent, a glare on me. He dropped down into a chair, both arms on the arms of the chair.

I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled my wand out. Malfoy's eyes shot down to it, but he didn't change his glaring face.

"How long have you known?" I asked, picking up a glass of fire whiskey.

"That he abuses her?" he frowned, "Or that she's here?"

Suddenly a glass flew barely an inch from his face, shattering behind him. It sent him into shock, and he jumped up to his feet.

"You did nothing?!" I yelled, and he was suddenly alert. "He hit her, and treated her like a whore, and you did nothing!"

The clear look of hidden regret was clear on his face as he stared at me.

"How long have you fucking known, Malfoy?" I asked again. "How fucking long?"

"Since it started," he said, and my heart shot into flames. "She's bad at hiding these things, Riddle."

"And you did nothing?" I asked, glaring. "You're pathetic, Malfoy."

I glanced at one of my guards, before budging my head towards Malfoy. Two guards made their way to him, and one attempted to grab him.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" he yelled. "What is this, Riddle? We had a deal!"

I grew a soft grin, stepping further to the end of the table, swirling my wand in my hand.

"You want to kill me?" Malfoy scoffed. "I kept on your terms."

"You let her get hurt," I said, watching his fists curl together. "You didn't keep her safe."

"How could I?" he asked, disbelief in his voice. "You made me stay in New York."

"You would have found a way," I said, lifting my want to him.

He flinched, stepping back. "Riddle, no- No, don't-"

"Shut it!" I yelled, my voice echoing the room. "She got hurt, and you didn't tell me!"

"Ridd-"

"Expelliarmus!"

~

I opened her door, and my eyes shifted across the room, until I found her sitting on a chair, reading a book. My eyes then shifted to the bed, clothes scattered across it, and some on the floor.

"I heard you went shopping."

Lee didn't even look up from the book, and kept quiet. She had both feet on the white chair, although she wore socks. She wore shorts, and a knitted jersey with no waist.

"Enjoy it?" I asked, closing the door behind me.

Once again she sat without a sound, except for paging to the next page, turning her head slightly to read.

"Ignoring me?" I asked, and her soundless answer didn't satisfy me. "Lee, don't ignore me," I said more firmly, and this time she barely glanced at me, but I noticed she stiffened.

"Abigail Moarer."

I lift my eyebrows. "What about her-"

"Mister Riddle."

I frowned. "What?"

Lee looked at me, lowering the book. "Pretty dresses. Pretty shoes. Pretty hair. Pretty everything."

While crossing my arms I leaned against the doorframe. "What are you on about, princess?"

"I knew her when we were in school." She tilted her head, then shot her eyes away from mine. "Shirts and jeans. Sneakers. Ponytails. She was everything she isn't now."

I lift my head, eyeing her. "So? She got taste now, has she not?"

Slowly she stood up, her eyes meeting mine. I could tell she was calm, but upset. "She's not the girl she was, Mattheo. What did you do to her?"

My eyes followed her as she neared me. "I did nothing-"

"You coated her," Lee replied to her own question. "You're making her act like someone else."

She stepped in front of me, a foot away. Her eyes stared at me, filled with fury. She somehow managed to be spot on with her silly accusation. Her silly idea was in fact correct.

"Why would I do that?" I teased.

"You needed a replacement." She scoffed. "You wanted what you once had." Her eyes were soft, and shifted to my lips, then my eyes again. She took a slow, deep breath, before meeting my eyes again.

My eyes shot away from hers, and I realized her glare was weakening me. My arms unravelled, and I gulped.

"Am I wrong?" Even her voice was numbing. "Tell me, Matty. Am I?"

Matty?

My eyes met hers. She tilted her head up, meeting my eyes.

Fuck.

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