There seemed to be no way to intimidate him and she understood why he was so confident. Between his insanity and the private lessons he’d received growing up it would have been impossible for him not to be a formidable opponent. Still, she knew one thing that frightened him, though fear might be the wrong word for Amycus. She knew he relied heavily on his wand, on magical ways of harming another, though if necessary she definitely felt he’d enjoy using his hands, perhaps even more. But then he was crippled by that confidence, he’d never see it that way but she tried to cling to the thought of it. If he didn’t have his wand this would be easier.
As he went through his threat of cages and basements she made a simple flick of her wrist, a nonverbal spell, expelliarmus, and watched his wand sail through the air into her hands. She’d practiced, for two years, to master just a small handful of nonverbal spells and to make her duelling and spellwork just a bit more powerful. Growing up she had eavesdropped on Amycus’s lessons, she knew the book version of so much but application—she’d been stifled at home and at school so she’d really only had two years to become a formidable witch and not just some sort of threatening being. Still, she was half surprised the spell worked, he wasn’t used to being caught by surprise.
The urge to snap the damn thing into pieces was overwhelming, a man like Amycus didn’t deserve a wand but she wasn’t interested in enraging him, and the act would end in more consequences for her than not. She’d simply hide it in the woods or something if she got the chance. He spoke of the basement and she couldn’t be sure if it was just a callous threat or if it was true. Either way she could tip off the ministry and get the place raided. Amycus was smarter than to let that work, she’d have to play dirty.
“I see no cages here brother, and you mustn’t forgot that every beast still has claws.” She sent his wand sailing into the darkness outside, hoping it landed miles away in the dirt. He’d find it easily, after she left, but at least for now she felt safer. In the next instant she darted at him, faster than a human should be, all her senses heightened as the full moon approached, her strength, her reflexes. He acted big, he was usually the one with all the power, but this time it was hers. She reached round his neck, more an embrace than a grasp, gently resting there on his shoulder, thumb pressed to the heartbeat in his jugular, long nail pressed into flesh. It wouldn’t turn him, it wasn’t the full moon, but it would leave a nasty scar if she attacked him. “I remember the way you’d tremble as the sun went down, how you’d whimper when mother closed the drapes. I could smell your fear even in the basement, the stench of your cowardice, cowering in your room.”
She let a sinister smile play on her lips, a toothy grin, a baring of teeth. She might pay for this when the moon was gone, when he was once again the stronger of them but right now she didn’t care, she was relishing this moment, this feeling and she understood why he enjoyed it. But she was not a sadist, he was the only person in the world she’d enjoy torturing. “Even now, the stink of your fear is filling the room, you’re terrified and your honeyed words can’t cover the smell.”
Just one moment, not more than a few seconds of bare distraction, and his wand was flying across the room. Amycus looked down at his empty hands, before his glare met her eyes. There was something inside him that burned; something nefarious that banged against his chest, begging to come out, and oh, how he wanted to let it. When she walked to him much faster than a human, he didn’t flinch — Amycus stared deeply into her eyes, without allowing any of his feelings to show. The mere idea of being intimidated by Alecto was downright offensive, but the touch of her nail against his skin made him feel alarmed and uneasy. All he could think about was how much he loathed her and her bestiality and the arrogant look on her face. The more thought he gave to his current situation, the faster his heart raced, but he refused to move a muscle, offering her a sardonic smile instead. He would never, not in a million years, give her that sort of power.
Amycus raised his hands up in the air, in a gesture of surrender. “Poor little Alecto,” he whispered as he shook his head negatively. Amycus had never flinched in the face of violence, he had never thought twice, and that was what made him great — Alecto would never be on his level, even if she so badly wanted to. His palms were sweating, something twisted inside his stomach every time her nail moved, but he pushed her nonetheless. She didn’t have it in her, and he knew. “Is this what you dreamed of as a kid?,” he asked, mockery instilled in every word. Amycus took one step further, leaving almost no space between them. His height easily towered hers, and he scoffed. Small, weak, dumb Alecto. He fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and break it. “Do it,” he dared, reaching for her hand with his own. “You’re a Carrow, aren’t you?”
