The Taste Of Revenge

23

"Girl, where are you going?" His voice was so timid, so afraid, she knew instantly who it was. Had they really sunk so low? To go off parading around with their Dark Lord and leave her with the rat as a guard. Or, as they referred to him, a carer; because of her 'condition'. She hadn't really had the heart to ask which one. Normally, she would've have just ignored Pettigrew, but she was feeling brave, cocky even in the face of her fatigue.

"I'm going to get a drink." She said softly, refusing to meet his eyes and slowing to a stop right in front of him. Still, her gaze continued to wander, looking everywhere except his, and she could practically smell the fear rolling off of him in waves, "Because my throat hurts." He didn't like it when she spoke so quietly, her voice almost taking on a lyrical lilt as she whispered. The rumours about her were rife, and he was stupid enough to believe every one that reached his ears.

"Do you, do you want me to come with you?" He stammered, flinching as she rose a hand to swipe a loose strand of dark hair from her face, looking up at him, sucking in her cheeks slightly as an attempt to contain her laughter. She looked him straight in the eye, and felt a strange surge of pride as he flinched and began to quiver more violently.

"Would you like to come with me Peter?" She asked quietly, raising one, delicate eyebrow as she saw the panic cloud in his eyes. Tonks knew somewhere inside her that it was cruel to tease him so, but being kind had never got her anywhere. And anyway, it wasn't often she got a chance to frighten people anymore. Brushing her hair away from her face, she began to walk away. As expected, a few moments later, soft footsteps joined hers and Pettigrew appeared at her side.

The corridors of Malfoy Manor were getting tiresome she had walked them so many times, but still they refused to allow her leave, keeping her trapped in quarantine, guarded day and night. Of course, staying was perhaps preferable to what else she may have ended up doing, but it would be a lie to say she didn't miss it. The thrill of the terror in the air, the smoke, the freedom, exchanged for locked rooms and armed guards.

"Umm.". Her train of thought was broken by a quiet murmur beside her. She turned her head sharply and smirked as the rat wilted under her cold gaze. However, the effect was spoilt somewhat as her feet stumbled over a lump in the carpet and she only just managed to stay upright by grabbing the shoulder of the squat man beside her. Running a hand through her loose curls and swearing quietly, Tonks turned back to face Pettigrew, whose face was a dark crimson blush and he was wringing his hands.

"Sorry Peter." She said softly, slowly removing her hand from his shoulder and making a slight effort to smooth out the mess that had become of her hair. After a moment, her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach, fiddling with the lace of the corseted dress. It was a week ago she had first given into the idea. Perhaps she'd known for a long time, but placed it away in fear and denial. However, there was no denying it any longer, not when it was so obvious.

Every dress prepared for her was tight fitting and exact to her figure, and she had been nothing more than skin and bones at first anyway. Every curve of her body was perfectly on display, from the gentle slope of her waist, to the noticeable shaping of her ribs, to the small, rotund design on her stomach, on show to all, and undeniable.

"After you Miss Tonks." Pettigrew smiled weakly, holding the door open for her. The living room was a drab affair, once grand maybe but not as such any longer. She took a seat on the sofa, taking the small packet from the hidden pocket at her waist, "I thought they were bad for you, in your condition." He chanced to say, taking a seat opposite Tonks as she opened the small box.

"Perhaps." She shrugged, making a mental reminder to thank Draco for taking the time to sneak her the cigarette pack, "But I personally have never cared much for common thought. I haven't had a proper smoke in months, and won't let this get in my way." She couldn't help but notice the shake in her fingers as she rolled it out, cursing quietly as it only intensified. It took her a moment more to finish rolling it, and she lit it with her wand as she raised it to her lips, "How much do you believe of what they say?" She asked Peter quietly, taking a long drag on the cigarette and feeling it warm her lungs from the inside.

"Pardon?" He asked carefully, his fingers once again beginning to twist around each other.

"Of what they say about me." Smiling softly, Tonks let the smoke cascade from her mouth and nostrils, before speaking again, "Do you, for instance, believe that I'm a werewolf? Or that the whispers I'm with child are true? Maybe, you even believe that its the Dark Lord's? You're a very foolish man Peter," she smirked, "People will take advantage of you, because you are weak." That had hurt him, she saw it in his eyes, but he was also angry.

*
Perhaps it had been mean to rile him, but as she stepped over his unconscious body to reach the door, it was worth it. He had drawn his wand, but she had already cast a spell before he had even begun to speak. It was relatively weak, but more than enough to leave the putrid little man on his back, completely dead to the world.

"Let's go." She whispered to herself, "I'm sure I remember the way." The front door was nothing more than a few steps away when the doorknob began to rattle. Straight away, Tonks panicked and reached for her wand, but there was nowhere to hide in the open room.