Dig Up the Bones

[Tybalt Lestrange]

@Andromache Pettigrew
@Atalanta Pendergast
April 29th.

Tybalt has drifted through most of his previous haunts by now. Not his old house - he was not stupid - and not the Ministry, but other places. He'd wandered through muggle London, found the place where he had dumped a coworker's body, once - and spotted her.

He'd not even realized he was following Andromache until he was, and it was easy to figure out where she was - waiting in Kath's gardens for her was, perhaps, a bit much. But he'd perched in a massive tree and read snatches of the Daily Prophet and waited in the hopes of catching another glimpse.

What he got was better. A sunset walk through the gardens, how quaint - and he did not know why Andromache was dressing like a poor person but he was going to find out. He was going to find out a great many things.

He dropped from his perch in the tree, landing behind her and coming up to his feet, the wand Lucius had acquired for him in hand.

"It's been a very long time, Andromache," Tybalt said.

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

She was not at all surprised. Alarmed, annoyed, unnerved, terrified perhaps, but not surprised. She had expected him to find her eventually—his ingrained arrogance coupled with his utter insanity had almost guaranteed it. Her hand went automatically for her wand, but Andromache doubted she would be able to draw it fast enough, so was there really any point? No, but her fingers gripped the familiar length of rowan anyway for the reassurance that would not come.

At least Arthur was far, far away. Andromache thought she could make peace with her own demise, but never his.

"Yes. Though I suspect it has felt like much longer for you," she replied, almost conversationally, though she took an obvious step back.

  

[Tybalt Lestrange]

Tybalt laughed, dagger-sharp, and took a step forward.

"Not since my sentencing," he said, smiling savagely, "Though you missed most of the trial, as I recall. Didn't find my testimony amusing? Or did your mother need your guiding hand?"

Perched on a seat in front of the Wizengamot for weeks on end as they asked him questions on every trial he had ever worked, questions about the thirteen people he killed, questions about the various dubiously legal paraphernalia in his house. Questions about his remorse.

Tybalt had certainly found it amusing.

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

Another step back and Andromache's bustle pressed against stone, and she forced herself to remain calm at the realisation she was, with Tybalt approaching, effectively trapped. Instead, she perched against the wall behind her, feigning nonchalance despite the fearful pounding of her heart.

She could try and comfort herself with the reminder that he was her uncle and maybe he wouldn't harm her, but he had killed his own brother in cold blood — why would a niece he had been vaguely kind to be any different?

"I'm afraid I had little interest in very much you had to say," she replied coolly. "Your sentencing was really all that mattered. I don't suppose you're here just to exchange pleasantries, uncle?"

  

[Tybalt Lestrange]

"Never simple pleasantries, Andromache," Tybalt said. He kept walking towards her, until he was only a few inches away, twirling his wand between his fingers. The truth was that he hadn't decided what he was going to do to her, yet - if he was going to do anything at all. Lucius might not be pleased, if he hurt her, and Tybalt had little interest in harming her, besides.

His curiosity had always been his drive.

"Why are you dressed like a poor person, Andromache? Tell the truth, now - I used to be a lawyer."

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

Merlin. He had missed rather a great deal rotting in Azkaban, and Andromache had no desire to enlighten him. But the sight of his wand — and the reminder of all he had done with it — convinced her otherwise. There had been very little that had scared Andromache Lestrange, and Andromache Pettigrew had suffered through so many humiliations she had become convinced there was nothing in the world (save her son, always her son) which could dent her armour now.

But she was terrified now, and she gripped the wall on either side of her legs like a lifeline.

"Financial problems," she replied simply. The truth, without dragging her son's name into the mix.

[Tybalt Lestrange]

Tybalt fixed her with a sharp look for several moments.

Finally, he glanced away. "Pity," he said, sounding more bored than anything else, "I always thought you smarter than that."

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

She would be foolish to assume she was safe just because he seemed bored of their discussion. Boredom, in a man like Tybalt Lestrange, was just as dangerous as any other emotion and Andromache was, contrary to her uncle's denouncement, nothing if not smart. She wisely bit her tongue to stifle her sharp retort; there was no room was pride with a psychopath standing before her.

"What will you do now?" Andromache asked carefully. "I imagine there are people who are eager to see you back behind bars."

  

[Tybalt Lestrange]

Tybalt shrugged his shoulders. "I'll do as I please," he said, tone as casual as it ever got, "I have no intention of returning to Azkaban."

He had his task, for Lucius. That was going to be fun.

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

"Then I daresay you should be careful," Andromache ventured bravely. "I expect the aurors wouldn't be surprised to find you here, visiting the daughter of one of your victims. Surely you'd be safe elsewhere?"

  

[Tybalt Lestrange]

Tybalt smirked. "And I suspect that you'll tell them as soon as I've gone," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "No matter. I will not return here."

  

[Andromache Pettigrew]

Andromache was not entirely sure what to say; she would, of course, contact law enforcement the second Tybalt Lestrange fled the grounds of the Selwyn Estate but confirming that would hardly be wise.

And she was still not convinced that her uncle was going to let her live.

"Was there anything else before you slip into the night, uncle?" she asked, the waver in her voice betraying the nonchalance of her words.

  

[Tybalt Lestrange]

Tybalt grinned, more casual than savage, the ghost of the charming uncle from decades ago rising to the surface.

"Not at all," he said, "Keep me in mind, Andromache."

He apparated off with a crack.