The Justified Torture of Rita Skeeter

The justified torture of Rita Skeeter

"This just goes to show that clean kills can be just as fun as messy ones," Bellatrix remarked. Being ones to keep it clean when not wishing to get caught, they'd put Skeeter in her bathtub. At Bellatrix's casual mention of her impending death, Rita Skeeter began to scream.

"I've already cast a silencing charm in here, so go ahead and howl your throat ragged," Rabastan called to the blonde over her own racket. "No one shall hear you but us, and we enjoy the sound of screams."

Rodolphus smirked. "That we do," he agreed.

Bellatrix smiled in satisfaction as Rod lowered Skeeter into her own bathtub with a flick of his wand as Rabastan turned on the taps. As it happened, the bathroom was pink! Just one more offense from the dreadful woman, Bellatrix thought wrathfully.

With a flick of her wand, she thrust the woman under the water, effectively silencing her screams, then struck her with a body bind when she started to thrash. After around five or so seconds, she yanked Skeeter back up with another wand flick. While Skeeter choked, spluttered and gasped, Bellatrix drained the bath with a final wand flick, leaving the woman sopping wet and huddled in her tub.

"Move and I kill you," Bellatrix informed calmly. "Now are you ready to answer my questions?"

Skeeter's hand was shaking as she used it to push dripping hair out of her eyes. "I told you, I don't know what you want!"

"Well now that isn't exactly what you said, as I do believe it involved more nasty words, but we don't believe you regardless," Rabastan chided from where he idly leaned against the door jam.

"Why did you say I shagged the Dark Lord," Bellatrix asked carefully. She was struggling not to lose it, because she hated the very thought so much. She wanted to make Rita Skeeter pay for writing those words until she was beyond sorry. It had befouled the adoration Bellatrix had had for her god, and made it a sick and perverted thing instead.

"Well you obsessed over him and adored him, didn't you? So I wrote it."

"Do you adore any god," Bellatrix asked softly, voice dangerously soft and logical.

Skeeter shook her head. "I never went to church. Besides, I do far too much to feel guilty over, and gods always want the guilt these days, don't they?"

Bellatrix nodded, though not particularly in agreement to Skeeter's words, but rather to her own understanding of them. "Very well, what is it that you do adore?"

"Money," Skeeter answered readily. "And adoration from the public for my accomplishments would be nice, but I can never seem to manage that bit."

Bellatrix nodded again. "Very well, but you don't want to shag money, do you?" She didn't bother allowing Skeeter to answer, though as her point had been made. "Crucio," Bellatrix screamed, and Skeeter screamed back only with no words as she thrashed in the tub.

"Watch she doesn't hit her head," Rabastan warned and Bellatrix turned to glare over at him.

"You bloody watch her head! Use a padding charm or something. Can't you see I'm busy? Make yourself useful!" Turning back to Skeeter she continued, her voice restored once more to its calm tone at least for the moment until Skeeter set her off again. "What about Dumbledore? Why did you say he was gay with Grindelwald of all people? It isn't even as if the two would be friends for Merlin's sake. One sickeningly kind, wise and open minded, and the other a respectable Muggle hating soul who had plans to fix the wizarding world until he was so rudely interrupted."

Skeeter blinked in surprise. "I... Well that one I honestly didn't think anyone would believe! Besides, he was dead at the time or at least everyone bloody thought he was! That's hardly my fault that he faked his death. Rather inconsiderate of him I might add," she complained. "I just wanted to...you know, write something that would sell. Please stop hurting me! I...well I hadn't sold anything big in months, nearly a year, actually, and... I need to pay my rent too, you know. Besides, if we're being honest I missed the sensational attention." She peered up at the three Lestranges incredulously. "I'm expected to believe that you really care about what I say of bloody Albus do-gooder Dumbledore? And if it's Grindelwald whose reputation you care about, which is frankly more logical to my mind, he's long dead so I should hardly think he'd mind a girl making a galleon or two."