Symmetry and Discord

CHAPTER FIVE

AFFECTION AND ABHORRENCE

The evening was bright and starry, with hints of a waning moon. Robert and Tonks sat on the front porch swing, neither of them speaking for a long while. They simply enjoyed each other's company, enjoyed the sensation of their hands clutched together, and enjoyed the sheer prospect of the evening to come.

Robert closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet, leafy scent of the September dusk, commingled with Tonks' gentle, decidedly feminine, perfume. Tonks' clean, fruity scent reminded him of when he was a child in New Hampshire, when he would steal his mother's freshly-cleaned linen off the line, and use it as a holder for just-picked apples from his neighbor's tree. Sweet memories. Sweet memories to be made.

At 9:30 sharp, a long, black, limousine pulled up in front of Robert's home. Tonks saw it and her eyes lit up. "Is that for us?"

Robert groaned slightly. "Yes, it is." He blinked. "When I called for a car, I thought we'd get one of those smaller, airport jobs - a Continental, maybe. Not a super-stretch. Just something so I didn't have to worry about driving." He rubbed at his temple and winced. "Just what I need, to have Mrs. Taylor next door and Mrs. Danielson across the street peering out their windows at this spectacle." Robert spat out a breath. "Puh, wonderful."

"I think it's brilliant," Tonks squeaked. "I've never been in a llama before. This should be great!"

"A what?" Robert giggled slightly.

"A llama. You know, a llamasine!" Tonks threw up her hands in an impatient gesture and pointed at the vehicle.

"Tonks, honey," Robert said, stroking her cheek, "I think you mean a limousine." He stood from the swing, pulled at the front of his Versace suit, and offered Tonks his hand.

Even in the growing darkness, Robert saw Tonks' cheeks flush pink. "You'd think," she said evenly, "that I'd know that by now, wouldn't you?" She placed her hand in his and got to her feet with surprising grace.

Robert's smile brightened and he chuckled anew. "Sounds like we both have a lot to learn."

The limousine driver, a short, burly man in a black suit, waddled huskily up the front path. He stopped in front of the porch, held up a small note card and read, "Robert Langdon?" With the driver's thick Boston dialect, Robert's name came out sounding something like "Raw-bet."

Robert, placing Tonks' hand in the crook of his elbow, replied, "That's me."

"Gotta make sure, you know, Mr. Langdon, that I, like, got to the right house, you know." The limo driver bobbed his head nervously and gestured wildly.

"No problem." Robert and Tonks started down the porch step, and across the flagstone path, following the limo driver. Tonks' strappy heels, like Tasha's Blahniks before, clicked rhythmically on the hard stone walk. Her pace, however, was relaxed and somewhat uneven, her feet crossing occasionally as she leaned into Robert. As they made their way to the car, Robert smiled as his eyes took in every inch of the vision that was Tonks.

Her hair was pinned at the back with a pair of crossed black lacquer sticks, her blonde highlights accentuating the back and upward motion of her hair. She had small, wispy bangs and a few pieces of hair caressed her cheeks. Her makeup was perfect - natural and beautiful, yet bringing out every feature with high drama.

The dress, Robert thought, was unlike anything he'd seen on a woman before. After obtaining his wand, Robert had bought the dress for Tonks in a small, exclusive, witches' boutique in Tituba's Crossing. It was knee-length and pitch-black -- seeming to magically absorb all light. While it was in the store and on the hanger, Robert had especially been drawn to the little black beads along the - rather plunging - neckline and shoulder straps. Now, seeing it on Tonks, he could barely wrench his eyes away.

Not a bad purchase, Langdon, not bad at all.

It amazed Robert that this beautiful, graceful, and sleek creature on his arm was the same woman who lounged around his living room in sweatpants and a t-shirt that very morning - the same woman who managed to bump her head, smack herself in the cheek, and trip twice within the span of an hour.

What did I do to deserve her?

The driver opened the rear door of the expansive vehicle for them, and Robert helped Tonks in first.

"My name is Barney DiMicelli -- you can call me Barn -- and I'll be your driver this evening. You're going to Rialto, Mr. Langdon? Che buona cottura dell'Italiano!"

"No," Robert replied, stepping halfway into the car, "change of plans. The lady wants South of the Border. We're going to Cinquenta tonight." The driver shuffled nervously. "Um, is that a problem? Don't you know where it is? It's just on the other side of the Charles..."

"No, no sir," the driver hesitated. "It's just that," his eyes shifted nervously, and he swallowed hard, "can I ask you a question sir, a personal question?"

Robert eyed him wearily. "We'd really like to get started on our..."

"No, it won't take a minute Mr. Langdon, really. It's like, just one question." Barney was nearly begging now.

"Okay."

Barney seemed to be steeling his resolve. "I mean, I like, saw your name on my card, here and had to wonder, you know. Are you, like, the Robert Langdon? I mean, were you the guy who like, was on TV and saved the Vatican last year, you know, with the Blessed Father Santo Carlo Ventresca?"

Robert blinked. It wasn't so much that this guy was asking him if he was the man who "saved" the Vatican, but rather it was his use of the words, ... "Blessed Father...Santo...Carlo Ventresca?" Hearing the title, 'Santo' in the same breath as the name, Carlo Ventresca, sent a shiver of disgust through Robert's core, and caused his upper lip to involuntarily curl with revulsion. Santo Carlo Ventresca. God save us all if that's what the world really thinks.

Obviously, since Robert and Vittoria Vetra were the only ones outside the Vatican Conclave who knew about Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca's murderous and destructive vendetta, the rest of the world - especially the devout, old-fashioned Catholic world -- likely did regard him as 'Santo.' After all, Ventresca was the one who flew the anti-matter bomb away from St. Peter's Basilica, and yes, Ventresca did save the Vatican - but he saved it from his own vicious and hateful doing.

Robert tried hard to compose himself. "Yes, I am Robert Langdon, and I was the one who flew in the helicopter with Carlo Ventresca, but I can hardly say that either of us 'saved' the Vatican, as you say."

"But...did you see...the Cardinals dead...the anti-matter...the Camerlengo... in flame...It was all on TV!"

Robert cut him off. "I'm sorry, Barney. I'm really sorry. I haven't talked about it to anyone, not the press, and not even my mother. I certainly, and I hope you understand, can't talk to you about it."

"That's okay," Barney said, slightly deflated. "My mama - she'll be thrilled when I tell her that I, like, drove you tonight. After what happened last year, you know, she has a framed photograph of the Blessed Santo Carlo on her television stand. And, like, you were one of the last people who... who... you know...touched him, saw him alive. She'll go crazy. She still thinks it was by the holy power of the Camerlengo that you survived."

Robert had enough. He remained purposefully quiet for a moment as a young woman strode by, holding a small dog on a leash. Robert hoped and prayed that the power-walker did not overhear the gush of adoration that Barney had just spewed forth. "Thanks, Barney, can we please go now, we have reservations." Robert plopped into the limousine and pulled the door shut himself. He did not know how long Barney stood outside the window. Eventually, though, he slid behind the wheel, put the car in gear, and started off down Concord Avenue.

* * * *

Despite the rather upsetting revelation that the Catholic world regarded the criminally insane Carlo Ventresca as some sort of saintly hero who was martyred in service to God, Robert wasn't about to let that ruin his first real "date" with Tonks. It only took a moment, and a few cyclical breaths in the limousine, for Robert to compose himself. Thankfully, Tonks overheard the majority of Robert's conversation with Barney, and didn't press for any details. He'll tell me about this Vatican thing when he's ready, she thought. Instead, Tonks merely gathered Robert's hand in her own, squeezed gently, and gave him time to regroup and refocus.

Dinner at Cinquenta was elegant, extravagant, and all Robert could have hoped for. Tonks was impressed by Robert's grasp of the Spanish language, and was even more impressed that he knew the restaurant's owner, Juan Pedro Navarre. As soon as Robert and Tonks lit from the limo, Señor Navarre was out the door, a pretty, dark-haired young hostess at his heels. He greeted them heartily in rapid-fire Spanish, and barked terse orders to the timid, rather frightened girl. The hostess, her eyes glued to the floor, showed them to a quiet, private, table in the back of the restaurant. After they were seated, she smiled timorously, whispered, "Ustedes gozan de sus cenas," and briskly walked away. During the evening, Navarre personally saw to Robert and Tonks' every whim.

"Why is Mr. Navarre being so nice to us?" Tonks asked over their appetizer of sea scallops.

"I helped get his daughter, Juanita, into Harvard five years ago - gave her a glowing recommendation on her knowledge of ancient Mayan architecture. Now Juanita's back in Mexico heading up some major archaeology work. Very happy man, Juan Pedro." Robert smiled, taking a hearty sip of his margarita.

Robert enjoyed watching Tonks relish her meal of enchiladas de pollo y frijoles blancos con salsa molè, more so than he enjoyed his own salmones en pipiàn verde. Robert smiled as Tonks thanked him profusely after practically every bite. "This food, this is the dog's bollocks!" Tonks blushed, and hiccupped. "I mean, it's fabulous. Brilliant. I never knew chocolate and chicken could be this delicious together!"

By the end of the meal, Robert was enraptured by simply studying Tonks' ecstatic reactions to each bite of her vanilla and brandy flàn. She drew her fork slowly through her mouth with each bite, her eyes closed and her chin jutted forward in pure culinary bliss. Robert, his own mouth watering slightly at the sight, wondered if some of this reaction didn't stem from the two and one half strawberry margaritas she had consumed during dinner. Feeling slightly tipsy himself, and growing more amorous with each bite Tonks took of her dessert, Robert flagged down their waiter and summarily asked for the check.

* * * * *

Barney DiMicelli drove the couple back to Robert Landgon's home on Concord Avenue in pure silence. Being a professional limo driver, Barney knew when to keep his mouth shut, and especially, when to close the center partition. On top of that, Barney had worried all night that he had somehow insulted Mr. Langdon, although he had no idea why, when he asked questions about the Sainted Camerlengo Carlo.

This is definitely one of those times to shut the hell up.

The couple he drove was obviously in love, obviously slightly smashed, and obviously ready for some 'time alone.' Barney couldn't see what was happening in the expansive back of his car, but the sounds of laughter, muffled as they were, were those of two people thoroughly appreciating each other.

Yup, he's like, gonna get a little somethin' tonight.

Barney pulled up in front of the house, and put his rig in park. He lit from the vehicle, and walked to the back. Barney hesitated for a moment, and then thought it best to knock on the window before opening the door. He did so, and the door pushed open. Robert Langdon stepped from the vehicle, surprisingly solid for just having a long night out, and helped his girlfriend up and out. Wait until I tell mama, Barney thought. Robert Langdon -- Santo Roberto -- in my rig. She'll flip, and then maybe she'll lay off me about this job... Obviously, Barney would keep the part about the hot girlfriend, the booze, and the noises to himself. Mama didn't need to know that.

Langdon handed Barney a bill, wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, and gave Barney a smile. "Thanks, Barney. Great ride. I paid by credit card over the phone. This is for you." Santo Roberto walked his girlfriend back up the path toward his house. Barney looked down at the bill.

"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath. It was a Benjamin - a $100 bill. Good tipper. Very good tipper. He lifted his head and looked at the back of Robert Langdon's slightly staggering form. "Thank you, Mr. Langdon, sir! Thank you, Santo Roberto!" Langdon lifted his hand off his girl's back and waved, not looking back.

"Anytime, Barn. Good night." Barney nearly sprinted back to the front of the limo, hopped in, and sped away.

* * * * *

As Robert fumbled in his pocket for the door keys, Tonks stood up on her toes and began kissing his neck just above the now-loosened collar. Robert closed his eyes to the sensation, nearly forgetting that they were outside, nearly forgetting that he was just getting ready to open the front door. She serpentined her hands up Robert's chest, underneath the undone tie, and wrapped her arms around his middle, under his jacket. Robert's breath caught in his lungs, and he felt slightly dizzy. Now, more than ever, he wanted desperately to get inside - to get upstairs - to...

"Damn, I can't find the keys," Robert growled, "I know I put them in my jacket pocket."

Tonks didn't even stop her kisses when she said, "You gave them to me. They're in my handbag."

Robert looked at the door, looked down at Tonks clinging to his own body, and looked at the door again. There was no way he was going to make her break her embrace just to dig out a God damn key. He opened his jacket, pulled out his new wand, and covertly aimed it at the doorknob. "Alohomora, right?"

Tonks, now having undone more buttons on Robert's shirt, started kissing there. She gave a muffled "uh-huh."

"Screw it then," Robert said. He gave the incantation, and the door clicked open. "Thank you, Merlin." He bundled Tonks inside, and pushed the door shut behind him with his back. She ran in front of him, giggling like a schoolgirl. He stayed pressed against the door, kicking off his shoes haphazardly into the foyer. She giggled again, and Robert ran after her, shedding his Versace jacket onto one of the living room armchairs in the process. The path between the door, up the stairs, and to the bedroom became littered with shoes, coat, pashmina, purse, and pantyhose - setting a scene that would become a glaring reminder for Robert come morning.

Tonks entered the bedroom and shut the door, locking Robert out. He pounded playfully on the door, the noise reverberating in his margarita-soaked brain. "Oh, come on, Tonks. Let me in!" He pounded on the door some more.

"Say please."

Robert growled and backed up from the door. He set his shoulder sideways and pushed forward. As he was about to make contact with the door, Tonks opened it, sending Robert flying into the room and landing pell-mell onto the bed in a tangle of sheets, tie, and pillows. Robert's chest flared in slight pain, but he didn't even notice. He was laughing too hard - laughing like he hadn't laughed in a long time. It was an uncontrollable, unrelenting, silly laugh that he just couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried, and no matter how much it hurt. It did hurt, but he loved every minute of it.

For once in who knows how many years, Robert felt his youthful soul spring forth from his aging body. He never wanted to let go, never wanted to go back. He had Tonks to thank for that.

Ten days - ten glorious days.

Robert took gasping breaths between peals of laughter and clutched his hand to his chest. The fit of giggles was finally passing, and when it did, it stopped abruptly, soberingly. The giddiness was replaced by an instantaneous feeling throughout his entire body that his dreams were about to come true.

Tonks was standing in front of him, near the foot of the bed, a boiling and sultry, yet mischievous look in her eyes. She reached behind her, and tried, with some increasing level of annoyance, to undo the zipper in the back of her dress. Seeing her predicament, and feeling his own desire mounting, Robert scooted forward, yanked off his tie, and sat up, facing Tonks.

"Let me."

Robert placed his hands on her hipbones, and moved them slowly up around the small of her back, to the top of the dress. The fabric was soft, slinky, and absolutely black. His hands glided effortlessly over it. Robert found the zipper pull at the top, and with both hands, drew it down gradually until it stopped at the place near her tailbone. Robert, his eyes contacting and grasping onto Tonks', traced his hands up her now bared back, and wound his fingers around the top of the dress straps. Smiling roguishly, he pulled forward, drawing the dress down around Tonks' arms, allowing it to drop in a pool of liquid black fabric to the floor.

Robert's world stopped and stood perfectly still - so very still. He gasped slightly at the image before him. Just like that very morning, Tonks' body was bared to him - utterly exposed. My God, but she's beautiful. She trusted him, loved him enough to allow him to see her that way. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp outside, she was the very picture of symmetrical perfection.

The Divine Feminine.

Before Robert could think or act, she began unbuttoning the remainder of his shirt, kneeling before him to work on the lower buttons. She stood back up, spread his shirt apart and pushed it down off his shoulders, allowing it, too, to fall off the bed and onto the carpet below. Robert licked his lips and stood, gathering Tonks up in his arms and holding her, allowing their collective body warmth to transfer one to another. She wriggled slightly and lifted her face to his.

Their kiss was, at first, chaste and subtle, but it quickly escalated into a passion to rival those of that morning. Robert's mind swam with feelings of desire, want, need, love - all centered around this woman now locked against his own body. It was more than obvious that the emotions were mutual. Tonks pushed him gently back onto the bed and resumed her work from that morning, showering Robert's chest, neck, and arms with heated kisses. Robert wrapped her up in his arms. Her moans deepened his desire, causing his body to strain harder against the remainder of his clothes. Almost as if reading his mind, Tonks moved her hands downward, and deftly picked at Robert's belt and pants button until they came apart, allowing Robert to kick off the offending garment and throw it across the room.

Robert looked up at Tonks again. Her hair was no longer the mid-length, highlighted, razor-cut mass that it was moments ago. Even in the dim light, Robert could also see that Tonks' eyes were no longer a brilliant green, but had returned to brown. "Tonks? What happened?"

Tonks felt her hair. "Oh, yeah," she sighed, "sorry, that happens all the time."

"No need to be sorry, but - what happens all the time?" Robert reached up and stroked her now long, chestnut tresses, twirling the ends around his fingers.

"When I get, er, excited, you know. I can't concentrate on it..."

"You can't hold on to the illusion, right? The change?"

"That's right. I kind of revert back when I get all, hot and... well, you know..." She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Aroused?" Robert's roguish smile resurfaced.

"Oh, definitely. Definitely aroused, Langdon."

Robert and Tonks made love wordlessly. Of great surprise to Robert, they did so rather effortlessly as well. There were no awkward moments, no times of trial and error. Simply, they fit together, and they seemed to know each other's wants and likings without having to be told. Robert was honored to be able to minister to Tonks' bodily needs, and did so with a level of relish and delight that his sexually selfish persona would not, until now, permit.

Robert couldn't believe how easy it was to love Tonks, how miraculous their ultimate union really was. Vittora Vetra had once likened her own lovemaking to a "religious experience." Robert now chuckled at the comparison. Tonks' rapt attentions to his own body, and ultimately, Tonks' lovemaking were, in fact, "perfect moments of glorious rapture," as Vittora had put it - and they were experiences that the not-so-holy Santo Roberto would never forget.

* * * *

Robert Langdon half-slept, half-smiled as he lay on his side, tangled in the bedcovers. Tonks had just been beside him, spooned up against his back, her hand habitually tracing gentle circles along his arm. "I'll be right back," she had whispered, before rising from the bed and padding across the carpeted floor to the master bathroom.

Robert closed his eyes and tried to imagine the vision of Tonks standing bared before him. He pushed deep in his brain to preserve that image forever. The evening had been flawless -- every moment of it, and he had made Tonks as happy as she made him. As he drifted off to sleep again, he heard a loud banging noise. To Robert's half-asleep mind, the noise came from that Tomlinson boy's new-slash-used car. The ugly beater was always backfiring, and the kid was always coming home at odd hours at night. Blinking slightly, Robert closed his eyes, willing his body to submit to slumber again.

As he did so, he felt the bed bounce under him, and felt Tonks' body press against his. She was no longer nude. Rather, Robert could feel a slick, silky sheath against the skin of his back. Robert relished the sensation, and pressed his body further against it. "What are you wearing?"

Tonks did not respond. "Whatever it is, I think I like it." Still no response. Rather, she turned slightly toward him, and reached under the covers. Robert felt her hand caress the flesh of his upper leg, moving in a deliberate, rhythmic pattern down into the space between his inner thighs. His body responded immediately, and he instinctively reached behind to touch her legs. "Tonks, what are you doing? Again? You're insatiable."

Yet again, no response. She simply continued her stroking, her hand reaching a higher plane with each broad brush on Robert's thigh. Robert turned over, sleepily, to face her in the semi-darkness. She was still beautiful, and still maintained her natural appearance. Despite Tonks' earlier protestations about looking like her aunt Bellatrix, Robert felt a deep attraction to her in this state. He reached for her, and grasped the back of her head, pulling her toward him. "Nymphadora Tonks, I do love you," he whispered, and kissed her gently.

The kiss that was returned was anything but gentle. Tonks, her lips still locked to Robert's, literally jumped on top of him, sending a jolting shockwave of pain through Robert's still injured chest. Robert tried to speak, to protest, but her mouth clamped on his prevented it. She gathered up Robert's hands in her own and pressed his arms into the bed, high over his head. Her kisses became even more violent. Robert finally spat her off after she bit hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing, Tonks?" Robert found himself becoming angry, and he did not want to feel anger at this moment - and especially not at Tonks. "You bit me, what the hell was that for?" Robert tried to pull down one of his hands to touch the offended lip, but Tonks would not relinquish her grasp. "Let me go," Robert growled.

Tonks gave a bone-chilling laugh.

"This isn't funny, Tonks." Robert struggled hard against her. Shit, she's strong. I can't get my hands free. Robert took a breath and fixed Tonks with a didactic stare. "Come on now, Tonks, I'm in no mood for the succubus game. I honestly don't like it. Stop now. Don't ruin this. Let's go back to sleep."

Tonks returned a mirthless, almost, Robert thought, hateful glare. Where is this coming from? She said only one word, in a hoarse whisper. "No."

Robert's mind snapped to attention, his adrenaline fueled by his growing anger, confusion, and - strangely enough, fear. He fought her again, but she still proved incredibly strong. "Let...me...go...now!" At the end of the sentence, Robert heard his voice shouting, echoing around the bedroom.

Again, Tonks said simply, "No."

Robert looked around wild-eyed. And then he saw it. Her left arm -- on the underside of her left arm. There was a mark there - faint and faded - but a mark nonetheless. A grotesque tattoo consisting of a skull with a snake slithering through the open mouth. He recognized it immediately. Robert's eyes widened, his mouth trembled, and his nose curled slightly in abject disgust. "The Dark Mark," he mumbled.

Wake me, now. Pinch me. This isn't real.

Tonks' eyes flashed, and she gave a wicked smile. "Yes."

My God! No! Robert thrashed for a moment to no avail. He stopped, and looked Tonks in the eyes again. The eyes were brown and large, like Tonks', but there was something different, something missing. There was definitely something missing - life, love. The eyes were deadened and full of obvious hatred. There was only one explanation, and that explanation horrified Robert.

He heard Tonks' voice from earlier that day reverberate within his head. "I am the mirror image of my aunt, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. In fact, if we were the same age, you probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart." So, if Bellatrix took an age reversal potion... Robert realized with growing dread that the one, the very explanation swimming in his mind was, in fact, true. The woman now straddling Robert's naked torso, the woman who he had just kissed, who had touched him in a very intimate place, was not Tonks at all, it was...

"Bella...Bella...trix...?" Robert stammered, feeling more and more violated, victimized. It was a feeling he despised, and one that normally caused him to rebel at all costs. Except now, he was too locked in his own shock to rebel, too numbed over - it would have to wait. Bellatrix Lestrange... Bellatrix, still holding firm to Robert's wrists, let out a vicious, high-pitched cackle of laughter. Robert knew now that he was right. He swallowed hard, his brain trying desperately to make sense of it all, trying to figure an escape.

Come on, Langdon, think. Think! I have to get to Tonks. Have to find her...

She spoke, finally, but Robert wished she hadn't. Her voice was gravelly, guttural, and lifeless. "About time the brilliant mind of Robert Langdon understands. Called me succubus, he did. Brilliant mind, Langdon has, she tells me. Gets it now, brainy thing, he does. He gets it. He knows. Knows, he does." She forced Robert's hands together, and held them fast with one of her own. "Knows he can't... get... away..."

The challenge newly emboldened Robert. He tried kicking out, but she was sitting right on the place where his legs met his hips. She had him immobilized, like a Lamia would have her victim. He couldn't believe how heavy she was. Some sort of density spell? Strength enhancer? Robert gave a growl of frustration, bent his knees, and bounced his feet on the bed, trying desperately to get some leverage. Nothing worked. Why can't I shake her?

Bellatrix pulled a wand out from between her breasts and aimed at a spot above Robert's head. With another loud "bang," thin, snakelike cords erupted from the end of Bellatrix's wand and twisted around Robert's hands, arms and wrists, binding him in place to the headboard. Robert strained and thrashed, pulling hard against the cords, but they only tightened, dug deeper into his wrists, and cut at his flesh.

Oh my God -- not this -- not now. Please, let this be a nightmare....

"Oh, but it's not a nightmare, brilliant Robert Langdon," she said, childishly, "brainy anorak. Stupid brain. It's not. No, it's not. Not a nightmare, but it will be." She re-aimed her wand at Robert's legs and gave an incantation Robert barely heard above his own swearing, screaming and angry protestations. To Robert's horror and shock, his legs clamped together, locked at the knees, and became absolutely immobile.

I can't move my legs. Sweet Jesus, I can't move. What the hell do I do? Tonks! Robert tried reason again, tried to appear defiant. "What do you want, Bellatrix? Where is Tonks?"

"Tonks is with me, brilliant, brainy, Langdon. I want nothing more than what I already have. I already have it. What I want. First step. Three steps. I have it. First step. Nymphadora, first step." Her face hovered only inches from Robert's, her breath falling onto Robert's face. "Nymphadora I have. First step. Second step coming soon." She bent down swiftly and locked her lips on Robert's again. Robert tried clamping shut, but couldn't maintain it. Bellatrix yet again found Robert's bottom lip with her teeth, again pierced the tender flesh, and caused yet another shock of pain to course through Robert's body.

She pulled back, wiping the blood - Robert's blood - from her mouth as if she had just finished her favorite dessert. A word Robert despised, one he had never used to describe a woman, crept into his consciousness and clawed at him like a feral cat. It was, however, the only word Robert could think of to describe this -- thing.

Bitch. You insane, psychotic bitch.

"Second step, coming soon," she repeated. Before Robert could speak, she re-aimed her wand directly at Robert's chest.

"No, don't," Robert yelled, "not again, don't!" He let out a groaning, primal scream of desperation. "Tonks!!!"

But the pleas and the outrage went unheard. "Goodbye, Robert Langdon, brainy swot. Brainy Langdon. Goodbye. Stu-pe-fy!"

In the moment before the spell hit, Robert felt a flash of thankfulness that she did not kill him, that she did not invoke the Killing Curse, the Avada Kedavra.

When I wake - and I will wake, Bellatrix -- I will find Tonks. And I will find you...and when I do...