A/N: okay, well, Andromeda is barely in this one at all, but I saw Sweeney Todd recently and just couldn't resist writing this . . . :D
Knock knock knock!
Lucius heaved a sigh. There was another one. It seemed like all he ever did these days was let his fellow Death Eaters walk all over his house, in and out, out and in, stalking across the floor as though it were their own. Not that it mattered, of course – this was where the Dark Lord had established headquarters. And since Lucius had no authority anymore, there was nothing to be done; he just had to live with it.
He pushed himself out of the chair he'd been skulking in, and trudged to the entrance. He opened the door, raising his eyebrows at the sight before him.
"Hello, Lucius," said Bellatrix, sneering, one hand on her hip, the other one holding out a strangely wrapped bundle. "When will the Dark Lord be back, do you know?"
"No, I don't. You're welcome to . . . come in though, in the meantime. What did you need to see him for?" he inquired, as she brushed past him haughtily.
"Oh, I just . . . have a little something for him, that's all," replied Bellatrix mysteriously, shifting her grip as she did so, so that her odd package was held in both hands now.
"You're giving him . . . a gift?" Lucius said, glancing down at the misshapen shape. Right then, it was official: his sister-in-law was insane. He'd never liked Bellatrix, and he'd always figured she had something of an infatuation with their lord, but really – to give him a present, as though it were Christmas time? That was rather extreme, even for her.
"Well, I don't know about a 'gift' – that seems a bit trite." She smiled as she pranced (he had never seen her prance – she was getting wackier by the minute) into the parlor, still holding her package with utmost care as she sat down on the sofa.
"You're giving him that?" he asked, nodding at the object as he followed her warily.
Bellatrix looked down, almost shyly, at her lap. "It's just a little something I made," she told him demurely.
"That you made?" She never had done anything by hand as long as he could remember, like some common Muggle – that was the lowest possible disgrace.
"Oh, well, I used magic too, but . . ."
"Bellatrix," he said slowly, sitting down across from her, "what the hell do you have in your hands?"
"I told you, Lucius, it's just a little something I made yesterday, that's all. What, is a woman not allowed to cook anymore?"
"You cooked the Dark Lord something?!"
"It's just a pie. What, you want a taste? I doubt the Dark Lord will want the whole thing, I could spare you a slice, if you so desire . . ."
Bellatrix Lestrange, infamous Death Eater, lover of torture, was baking pies? What was the world coming to?
"What's in the pie?" Lucius asked cautiously.
Her smile suddenly became brighter, wickeder; he recoiled slightly into the cushion of the chair reflexively just from the sheer magnitude of it.
"Mudblood," she said.
"You heard me, Lucius, I said Mudblood. More specifically, Dirk Cresswell."
"You – you put – there's a – what – "
"Just a portion of him, obviously his whole body wouldn't have fit in one pie – I mean, I suppose I could have made a whole batch, but to be honest I've never really baked anything before, so I was a bit apprehensive about how it would all go."
He wasn't sure whether to hurl from disgust or laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"I wanted to use another Mudblood – Andromeda's dear Mudblood, Tonks – " she scowled as she spoke the name; he stiffened as his insides coiled even more intensely " – but I couldn't find his body, unfortunately – Yaxley didn't seem to know what'd happened to him. Probably the bloody Order scooped it up . . . or maybe some animals finished him off. Anyway – did you want a slice or not?" she asked, holding up the pie and grinning devilishly at him.
"You're not – pulling my leg, are you? About this – this putting people in pie business?"
"Would I ever lie to you, Lucius?" she simpered.
The answer was obviously 'yes', but he could not say this out loud, for fear of it being his body in the pie next time.
"And . . . you really think the Dark Lord . . . is going to want this – this pie?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Bellatrix asked, raising her eyebrows.
"It's rather – rather – "
"You find this disturbing, Lucius?" she tinkled, smiling.
"I – well, I certainly don't find it appetizing . . ."
"Oh, very well," Bellatrix sighed with mock disappointment, her smile still twisting and amused. She rose from the sofa. "I guess I'll just have to have someone else sample this before I give it to the Dark Lord . . . is Cissy around?"
"Upstairs, most likely," said Lucius, smirking. Yes, let Narcissa deal with Bellatrix-the-chef. She was her sister, after all. This pie business was certainly not his problem.
Mudblood in a pie . . . he could not even imagine what had possessed her to such madness.