eldestlestrange

[eldestlestrange]

You and your politics. How Bellatrix can stand the sight of you is beyond me. The element of surprise. As if there is such a thing. Had the war not become sickeningly predictable I might have taken you on your advice. As it is, I'll stick to what the Dark Lord has taught me. The Order knows who we are and they'll be watching our every move whether the Dark Lord is with us or not. If they were going to arrest us, they would have done it. You can stick your politics up your arse. It has counted for little in this war of ours. 

Rodolphus… let the Order think what they will. Let us pretend a little longer, search for the Dark Lord as your wife asks. Is the element of surprise not enough for you? There is little work that can be done with the Order’s careful eye, especially in the Ministry. But who among them would expect us to seek the Dark Lord out and bring him back to power?

#c:lucius

[eldestlestrange]

If our master was here to witness how readily we’ve accepted the Order's take-over there'd be hell to pay. Let us not forget to carry out his work in his absence. We’ve allowed our enemy to think we’re weak, that we're no longer loyal or willing to fight for his cause. It is our duty to prove them wrong. It’s time to don our masks as we did before and reap carnage until the streets are awash with blood. 

#idk I am awful at starters sorry D: #vhstarter #vhstarters

[eldestlestrange]

You ought to have the creature beheaded and stuffed as Bellatrix insisted we do with ours. That elf was serving the Lestrange family when my father was still in his cradle, but that's what marriage is about, is it not? The sacrifices?

Tea?

#c:narcissa

[eldestlestrange]

Did your husband's elf perish in the battle? This is no job for a witch as noble as yourself. 

Tea?

#chat:narcissa

[eldestlestrange]

In marriage, such secrets do not stay hidden for long. As you no doubt will discover. 

Well for one.. she wasn’t as much of a bitch in school as she is now. I can’t imagine she’s a pleasure to be married to. I was half expecting Narcissa to be the same, but as I said I’m pleasantly surprised. 

No, Narcissa doesn’t know… for that matter, how the hell do you know?

#I'm sorry its so short #rod isn't particularly conversational #chat:lucius

[eldestlestrange]

That's right, I'm married to Bellatrix. You must have know all about it, having tasted her delights so many times yourself. Tell me, does your pretty petal of a wife know you've bedded her sister? 

You act like marriage is a bad thing, Rod. Oh wait that’s right, you are married to Bellatrix after all…

Married life is… better than I thought it would be… it’s a good thing she’s pretty and good in bed.

#chat:lucius

[eldestlestrange]

It's a pity they waited so long, cowards that they are. Had they struck only a few hours earlier, you'd have been freed from the shackles of marriage. 

How does married life suit you, Malfoy?

Well finally my manor is cleaned up and everything is repaired… took long enough. 

#rod is 100% done with marriage and slightly embittered #I'm sorry #XD #chat:lucius

[eldestlestrange]

Rodolphus is a muggle lover.

#rodolphus aint havin any of this shit

[eldestlestrange]

RP Meme

-Leave a “Befriend Me” in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about our characters meeting for the first time in an AU.

-Leave a “Humor Me” in my ask and I’ll write a funny drabble about our characters.

-Leave a “Love Me” in my ask and I’ll write a fluffy drabble with our characters.

-Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask and I’ll write a dirty drabble with our characters.

-Leave a “Break Me” in my ask and I’ll write an angsty drabble with our characters.

-Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about our characters fighting together [with or against, feel free to specify].

-Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about my/your character killing the other. [Specify]

-Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

-Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours. [As a ghost or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

-Leave me a “I ship you with ___” in my ask and I’ll will write our characters kissing.

[eldestlestrange]

Rodolphus watched his brother as he spoke. The tension that appeared to have seized hold of him did not go amiss. Ever since Rabastan had suggested he spy on the Order, Rodolphus had been keeping an eye on him as much as he could stand to. He’d never taken particular interest in him and even in recent months he’d found himself subject to certain distractions. But never before had Rabastan been worth taking notice of. Their victory in September changed things. Apparently, so did their recent defeat. Rodolphus had never seen such anger in his brother and it was a sight that should have brought him pride. It was what their father had desired of Rodolphus when he was growing up; surely it was the very trait he should be looking for in his brother. However it was nothing of the sort. Rodolphus found it disconcerting, alarming even. 

“My wife,” was all he said, almost affectionately, except the words escaped him in a huff of laughter, sounding more like a malicious growl than the tender words of a husband. For a moment, Rodolphus stared at Rabastan. He wanted to know precisely what she had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask his younger brother. Two years was all that stood between them and yet it felt like far more.  They’d never discussed such matters as this. Rodolphus had been raised in the belief that emotions gave way to weakness and so he had rid himself of every emotion he possibly could. If he attempted to bond with his brother over the years, it wasn’t over talk of women. It was over matters of war and even then he’d failed.  

“Tell me, Rabastan,” he said eventually, his voice clipped with anger. “What sort of ugly rumours has my wife been spreading?” There was a time when the thought of losing his master would have filled him with so much anger that he’d be unstoppable. He’d have set out in pursuit of his enemy and they’d have gotten everything they’d deserved. Now, Rodolphus was almost filled with relief. The marriage laws were still in effect but who would dare remind him, Rodolphus Lestrange, to sire a child? He dreaded the Dark Lord’s return as much as he desired it; to say he was conflicted wouldn’t do it justice. Naturally, Rodolphus responded by ignoring the topic of discussion completely. “That woman breeds poison,” he added, as if it was all that needed to be said. “There are matters of more importance to discuss. Cassius Avery. What will it be, brother? Am I to congratulate you or declare you a turncoat?”

unknown brother // rabastan + rodolphus

Rabastan took a deep breath as he watched his brother, waiting for the other man to speak. When Rodolphus did speak, Rabastan thought he might flinch away at the cold tone his brother took with him, but instead it only frustrated him. His fist clenched and unclenched at his side. He was twenty-four, he was engaged, he was a Death Eater; he did not need his brother’s validation. That was what he told himself, anyway. He was long past the need for a pat on the head, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever received a brotherly hug from the man in front of him. He didn’t need Rodolphus’ validation. He’d killed a man, for Salazar’s sake.

But the thought of Cassius turned his blood cold. How could it be that so much time had passed since the killing curse had left his wand, hitting Cassius squarely in the chest, and yet he remembered it as if it had just happened to him? He wondered if Rodolphus remembered the first person that he had killed so vividly, but it wasn’t something he could ask of his brother. He thought to ask Bellatrix — and wasn’t that a teller? He would prefer to ask his brother’s psychotic wife, than to ask his own brother. And then there was the fact that he hadn’t killed Cassius in self defence, as he had originally confessed, and planned to confess for years to come. He had killed the boy because Caradoc’s life had been in danger — and that was a subject that Rabastan could not afford to think about. Especially not when he was staring in his brother’s study.

"Of course," Rabastan said warily, but Rodolphus’ tone and words made him want to lash out. Even if he knew it would most likely be his end. "But if the Dark Lord is not dead, as so many assume him to be, we haven’t truly lost the war have we?" His spine was rigid, his body all nervous tension. "I know you don’t like to wait, Rodolphus, but surely our task now should be to regain our strength, and be ready for the return of our Master?" He waited a few beats, and then opted for the nearest subject change. "Bellatrix said you were at odds with one another. I wanted to —" Chat? Offer my condolences? Have a drink? "—tell you that she’s been saying some things about you. Quite freely."

#minipara:rabastan #unknown brother #rodolphus is just in deniable about everything #the dark lord #his marriage #his brother #his feelings

[eldestlestrange]

Since the battle at Malfoy Manor, Rodolphus' study had became a place of refuge. Bellatrix had banished him from their bedchamber, but Rodolphus found he had no desire to retire there at the end of the day regardless. The Dark Lord's departure had broken their marriage as much as it had broken their cause; without their master and the sense of purpose he'd granted them they had nothing but anger and resentment towards each other. The very sight of Bellatrix made his blood boil and he knew the feeling was mutual. During his last encounter with his wife, he hadn't been tactful, but what she spoke of was enough to get him killed should their Lord ever return. They couldn't all buy security through the same means as his wife. 

Rodolphus heard the knocks, but he did not speak. It was only when he heard his brother's voice and felt his uncomfortable presence that he turned his head. The very sight of Rabastan caused him irritation. In all the problems he was facing with Bellatrix, he had forgotten to speak with his brother about his recent success, if it could be called that. This was the first time he'd seen his brother since the battle. He'd heard he was alive, which was enough to satisfy him of his brother's well-being. Killing Cassius, however, was a questionable act. Cassius was no real loss, not if he turned his wand against a Lestrange, but if there was even a chance he might have been right to do so Rodolphus was determined to know of it. Appraisal. It was what Rabastan needed, but when Rodolphus opened his lips it wasn't words of comfort or encouragement that left him. Even now, when the sight of his brother returned some of that sense of leadership and responsibility that he had lost since the Dark Lord's disappearance, Rodolphus found himself unable to be anything but cold to his brother. 

"Is it not obvious?" he said, in a sharp tone. "The Dark Lord is nowhere to be seen. Witnesses say he is injured. We have lost the war, Rabastan. All that remains is to sit and wait for our master to return or seek out an honourable end."

unknown brother // rabastan + rodolphus

Rabastan wasn’t accustomed to seeking out his older brother. Perhaps he’d been more likely to search the house for Rodolphus, tug on his brother’s shirt and ask him to play, but things were different now. Things were most certainly different now. Rabastan wasn’t even sure how to approach Rodolphus now; the man was stoic, displeased with Rabastan more often than not, and seemed to generally have an air displeasure about him. If Rabastan had ever wished for a different, softer relationship with his brother; that had been a long time ago.

Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, he reached out to knock on the door of his brother’s study, all nervous tension and tentative jitters. He waited a moment, two… and then knocked again. This time he opened the door after his knock, knowing that the second had actually been loud enough to be heard, and let himself into the room.

"Forgive the intrusion, Rodolphus," he began. He felt five years old again, being called into his father’s study to be reprimanded for something that he had done… or hadn’t done. But he wasn’t speaking to his father, and he hadn’t been called here. “I came to see how you — to inquire after the state of affairs."

#rabastan is just adorable #poor boy #XD #minipara:rabastan #unknown brother

[eldestlestrange]

The sound of her voice broke him from his reverie and he turned to face her. Much like himself, she was a sore sight, bearing the signs of battle from head to toe. There were no tears in her eyes, thank Merlin, but something about her expression and the tone of her voice indicated she was brimming with unwelcome emotions regardless and that tears were not far from the surface. Meanwhile, something about her defiancereminded Rodolphus of his victims. She was hurt, the kind of hurt that didn’t come from broken skin and bones. It was a hurt that Rodolphus couldn’t quite place and never wanted to. One thing was for sure; he had never felt it. It was more than anger, more than betrayal. Was this the look of the crushed spirit, the broken heart?

Rodolphus had been angry before, but one glance of Bellatrix in this state only increased his anger tenfold. Every witch and wizard who had sworn to follow the Dark Lord only to see him flee the battlefield would be mourning his absence at that very moment. But Rodolphus was not a fool. He knew none would suffer as much as his wife. And it infuriated him. His usual stony expression had been replaced with a look of utmost anger. Anger that he had returned from battle alive, the shackled fighter once more; anger at their Lord for leaving them when their survival depended upon his success; and an anger that Rodolphus would scarcely admit to himself, anger that Bellatrix’ loyalty to the Dark Lord ran deeper than her affections for him ever would. His relief that she was alive and all in one piece (unlike her cousin) was short lived. Rodolphus had initially been pleased to wed a woman such as Bellatrix, one who could hold their own. But even he had his limits. What foolishness, to question him when she had been acting the Dark Lord’s whore all these months.

"The Dark Lord is alive and he would have us live here like prisoners in our own homes, penned up like dogs while they rule the wizarding world. He left us for dead." Rodolphus spoke through clenched teeth. For months his resentment of the Dark Lord had been quietly building and up until now he'd contained it. But he hated being cooped up in Lestrange Manor and he hated being charged with siring a child over hunting down the vermin who had brought this unjustice upon them. It was a ridiculous task when the Dark Lord only took his wife on his behalf. "Don’t think I didn’t hear your cries. You were overcome with grief the moment he disapparated. I may have been distracted, but that I did not miss. If he’s alive, why are you on the brink of tears like a little girl?"

Bellatrix had just returned home from questioning and a half-arsed heal (to which she’s summon her own healer later for a more proper job), owing Cassandra just reward for finding her.  She dragged her defeated self into the drawing room, burn marks remaining and dress frayed and torn from battle, spotting her husband speaking to what appeared to be himself. "He’s alive and will return to us.  I’m certain of it." Her words were firm, nearly believable if it weren’t for the cloudy haze in her eyes.  Not tears; the one night she returned home after the fire, after her Master unleashed some of his fury upon her, was the closest she had come to crying in front of Rodolphus, and she wasn’t about to make that near-mistake again no matter how the turbulent waves of uncertainty and despair swept over her. 

He had left alive, that she was almost positive of, but was badly injured.  He’d survive, surely- she couldn’t bare to even entertain the thought otherwise.  But He left them, His most faithful behind.  She knew He’d have his reasons, but it hurt nonetheless.  It hurt that He didn’t seek her out before vanishing.  It hurt that He was hurt, yet Rodolphus, who all but let Mary MacDonald go free (as she observed the best she could through cracks in the chairs) and disarmed her youngest cousin in an entirely different manner was walking about mildly scathed.  Resentment boiled within her, flushing her already burnt cheeks as crimson as the blood stains that lined the hem of her dress. In truth, she was entirely relieved he was standing here before her, not having suffered the same fate as Portia and Cassius, but at the moment was too consumed by frustration and grief to show it.

"He is alive and will return," she repeated, “rather like Mary MacDonald.  Funny, I wouldn’t think the little mudblood plaything could best you in a duel, love."

#minipara:bellatrix

[eldestlestrange]

Rodolphus diverted the spell with a sharp flick of his wand, but the damage was done. It didn’t strike him. Instead, it found some poor soul somewhere to his left. It would take more than a scrawny boy as pitiful as Regulus to cause him injury. No, Rodolphus had both his eyes intact and they were trained on the traitor before him. He’d never showed Regulus much attention in the past. Bellatrix had always seen to it that the boy was given the proper training and Rodolphus had never deemed it necessary to step in. Her position within the Dark Lord’s ranks was as great as his. There wasn’t a witch or wizard who could have done a better job of it. And yet she had failed. Regulus had betrayed them all to the Order. He had sworn loyalty to the Dark Lord. He had taken his Mark. It was a wonder he’d lived to see another day, but tonight was different. Tonight, Regulus would receive information Bellatrix had clearly forgotten to impart; defy the Dark Lord and you will be shown no mercy.

“And who taught you that clever trick?” His voice was cold and mocking, but his eyes burned with loathing. A smirk played on his lips, though it was clinched with anger. Regulus Black was a traitor, a boy who deserved nothing more than to be flayed alive, and he had raised his wand against one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted soldiers. It was a wonder he had lived to see another day. He would not live to see another.

“Was it your beloved cousin?” he continued, delaying the inevitable. There was no mistaking Regulus’ reaction. He knew there was no possibility he would come out of this alive. Rodolphus wanted to savour the fear that was written in the boy’s actions. There was only one way this could end and Regulus knew it, but first, it was time for an adjustment.

“You would send me back to her blinded and ridiculed so that she could share in your fate?” These last words left his lips in a snarl. He and Bellatrix were one now, whether they liked it or not. She bore his name and if he, Rodolphus Lestrange, was overcome by a mere child (the mere thought of which almost made him laugh aloud), than she would have suffered the same dishonour as him.

The Order claimed they were better than this, better than attacking women and children and harming for the sheer sake of it. At least Death Eaters didn’t lie about their intentions, about their pleasures and what struck them as vile. They fought for a cause and they stood by that cause until the end. Rodolphus was sickened that he had ever served alongside Regulus. The thought that whatever child he and Bellatrix bore in the coming months would share the same blood as not only one but three traitors brought the taste of bile to his tongue. Regulus had intended to blind him, but that was a fate only the boy himself deserved.

His grasp on his wand was relaxed as he dropped his gaze to Regulus’ arm, the arm that bore the mark he didn’t deserve, His mark. He took two steps back as if for a moment he considered leaving the boy to his business, though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Then, quick as a flash, his grip tightened. “Sectumsempra,” he cried, slicing the air with his wand in a swift but precise line. 

We Aware On How Such Matters End | Regulus + Rodolphus

They hadn’t spoken much at all before. Regulus and Rodolphus—they had had little reason to beyond the general statements of heirs and the uncomfortable offerings of the older to the younger. Perhaps they could have spoken about Bellatrix, once, but Regulus had felt unnerved far too long by the arranged marriage and the honestly imposing figure of his cousin-in-law that he had taken to avoiding Rodolphus’ company.

Rabastan was more his speed, there was always something to talk about even if it was inane. With Rodolphus it seemed like every word was costly. Every implication was under inspection. Still, Rodolphus and he, by rights, should have had more to talk about, more to plan. Regulus had never been quite ready to take the reigns beyond the paperwork and planning, however, and asking Rodolphus had never been an option. Too young, too inexperienced, and lacking the cockiness that others may have branished as a weapon in his stead—it would have been like speaking upwards towards a rock who barely troubled itself on ignoring him.

It was likely a positive. It felt like a negative—a detriment, of something misplaced. Here, listening to the sounds of battle—knowing he would never relish it in and wanting to— he tried to mindfully avoid curses and counter with benign hexes. He already knew it was a useless consideration. He did it anyway.

Out of all the familiar faces—ones across the room, another already bloody, two screaming almost in sync—Rodolphus’ was one he didn’t expect and didn’t want. It was with more trepidation than he wanted that he whirled and gripped his wand tighter. "Not—not exactly. No." Reasoning was useless. Thought, too, was pointless in a duel—and perhaps that was what he had always been missing in his lessons. Regulus couldn’t not think. One second, two—that’s all he’d have to say anything at all: "Oculacero."

It was the first spell that came to mind and he hoped, vaguely, that it’d only hit one eye—because Bellatrix already must hate him enough it’d be awful to have blinded her husband permanently on top of that. 

But if it hurt one or both eyes—at least the resulting damage would mean he could get away before Rodolphus killed him. Of that alternative Regulus had no doubts.

#I'm sorry this is so late #and I'm sorry if its not very good #it was a bit of a rush job #skdjjhkh #we aware on how such matters end #para:regulus

[eldestlestrange]

Chaos, utter chaos, and it was all the Order’s doing. Rodolphus took particular pleasure from this fight because the enemy were defeated before the first wand had even been raised. The Dark Lord’s supporters weren’t only superior in what they believed. They stuck to their beliefs. They would fight for them to their last breath. They would rather die than betray them . The same could not be said for this pack of rats. The Order of the Phoenix claimed to be above this; to be better than killing and torture. Normally they ran from pain just as they ran from the truth, that they were mistaken and that purebloods were stronger in every way a man could be. This time was different. Their true selves, hypocrites, had finally stepped into the light. They lusted for blood just as much as the Dark Lord’s loyal supporters. Their very appearance at this event was testimony to that fact. 

If blood was what they wanted, blood was what he would give. Rodolphus cut through the crowd without discrimination, brimming with confidence that they’d be as victorious in this battle as the last. The Order was outnumbered, they’d been weakened over the months and the Dark Lord even had spies amongst their number. Rodolphus’ own brother Rabastan was the first, and so far the only, wizard to offer himself up for such a task. The Order had weak stomachs and quivering hearts, ready to accept anyone who claimed they had turned their back on the Dark Lord’s ways; there was no way they could win against the Dark Lord now that he controlled the Wizarding World. The war had already been won. All that was left was to tidy the fringes.

When he saw a man crumpled on the floor - injured yes, but not yet dead - it took a moment for him to put name to face. Blood marred his image, but there were some faces Rodolphus had made a point of knowing. This wasn’t the face of a dirty mudblood, but something far worse. This was the face of a traitor. It was pure blood that ran through his veins, seeped from his wound and obscured his vision. He had been born with everything a man could ever need, save for dignity and pride, and he had turned his back on it, rejecting the ideals that their kind were obligated to uphold. It was Rodolphus' duty to know such men. Worthless as they were, they were still a threat to the Dark Lord’s cause and even the Dark Lord could not afford to let them escape the punishment they were due.

"Longbottom, is it?" Rodolphus said with a sick smile, pinning his wand-arm to the ground with his foot hard enough that it would hurt. For a moment he merely observed the state of his next opponent, his lips pulled into an ugly half-smirk as if it repulsed him to look upon a man as vile as he. “On your feet," he said, his tone flickering into one of feigned courtesy. He stepped back, holding out his arms to indicate the floor was his, if he could stand. Given his current condition, Longbottom didn’t stand a chance against him, but this didn’t trouble Rodolphus. There were few men that did. 

The End Has No End || Rodolphus & Frank

Chaos. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was the fruition of their own work. A tapestry of madness sewn by those he had called brothers in arms, as the young and feeble, the meek and the strong, fought with each and every fiber to survive. It might have been the dead of winter, but the air felt damp and moist, and his robes were an adamant snail clinging to his skin.

He searched his surroundings. Not far off, he spotted James engaging the broom. The bride shone majestically behind Lucius, its beauty taunting the unfathomable desire; a mockery of the Order’s crime. Regulus had dashed away from the crowd, as was expected. A young boy full of conflict, without a true side to chose. A wild card. Sirius had already encountered his own cousin, and in it, he saw the striking similarity; undoubtedly the result of methodically inbreeding amongst the purest of the pure. And in his mind, a round faced witch sprung to life. The dull-sapphire of his searched frantically around the room. Oh, how the words he had never spoken flooded him with regret, stuck in his throat, an uncompromising lump of his cowardice. For that was what he had become. All the excuses, all the justification for not telling her… Tell her that he-

Boom.

The barrage of thoughts had rendered Frank Longbottom defenseless. A stray spell had hit the a nearby table, exploding and knocking back the auror and the face he had so much longed for. Chaos now became him. How long had he had been out? A few seconds? A minute? That damn pitch. Blood pitch. It all was so unfocused. Make them stop. Make the screaming stop. The distinct taste of copper flooded his mouth, as a stream of warm, thick lines rolled down his face. He staggered to his feet, wand at ready. But for what? Everything was so out of focus. That scream. Stop. He shot a stunning spell at random; a fruitless endeavor brought upon by the sudden tinge of panic in his heart. He couldn’t upon his right eye. Had he lost it? No, no. It was the blood. The blood was blinding him. His own blood. Please, let it be his own.

His eye, now his sole helpful sense, began to put shapes and forms into perspective. He clutched his wand, raising it, readying for anything. For there came a man with the intent to kill.

#I'm sorry this took me so long! :( #para:frank #the end has no end

[eldestlestrange]

"Our master has fallen." The words sounded like poison to his ears. Rodolphus never intended to see such a day come to pass. He never intended for such words to break from his lips. But it was the truth. He had fallen and the Order had barged in to take his place. Not only that, but he had as good as relinquished his power. The Dark Lord had abandoned them in the midst of battle, witches and wizards of the noblest, purest heritage who were willing to fight for his cause until their dying breath. He had turned his back on them, disappearing into the shadows where even they couldn’t find him. And who had he taken with him? Peter Pettigrew, a man better known as Wormtail; a man barely worthy of the name Death Eater. Rodolphus' felt hollow. The thrill of battle had released him from its frenzy the moment he appeared in the gardens of Lestrange Manor with a loud crack, his dress robes bloodied, torn and scorched. The Dark Lord hadn't perished on the battle field. No, what he had done made Rodolphus' suffering far greater than it would have been had that been the case. He had betrayed them all. 

#minipara:bellatrix

[eldestlestrange]

Rodolphus leapt aside. The burst of flames sent by Moody missed him by a hair. He could feel its heat sinking into his robes, however it was a figure behind him who howled with fright, skirting out of the line of fire, but not fast enough to escape entirely. Rodolphus merely curled his lips into a humourless smirk. To say Rodolphus Lestrange enjoyed a good fight was putting it lightly. He lived for battle. It had been months since he'd experience this; the rush of adrenalin, sweeter than the buzz of alcohol in his veins, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a war drum, the taste of blood in the air and the ache in his fingers as he clenched hands into fists, hard, yearning to drive them into the mocking faces of his opponents, men sworn to protect vermin. The feeling had been missed.

"How boorish of me," Rodolphus said, his words thick with loathing. The battle was raging on around them, but Rodolphus ignored everything and everyone but the man before him, Alastor Moody. According to his files, he had attended Hogwarts only two years above him. Rodolphus didn't remember his face from those earlier years, but he had never made a point of remembering those who were so vastly beneath him. "Let me try that again," he said, his desire to inflict pain upon him flashing in his dark eyes. "Confringo!" Rodolphus' wand sliced the air as he cast the blasting curse. Typically the bride and groom were showered with confetti after their wedding ceremony. Given the Order's crime, Moody would do just as well. 

The duel resumes || Rodolphus & Alastor

#the duel resumes #para:alastor

[eldestlestrange]

There was a time when Rodolphus wouldn’t have been distracted by a pretty face quite so easily, not even the face of a woman he knew as intimately as he had come to know Bellatrix. He wasn’t one for displays of affection. He wasn’t one for affection of any nature, let alone amongst the very people he worked alongside, towards a common cause, His cause.  Love was regarded as a weakness of the worst kind. Affection wasn’t frowned upon per say. Rodolphus could remember a time when his mother had tucked him in bed in place of the house elf or the tears that stained her cheeks the first time he boarded the Hogwarts Express. Women could get away with affection. It was said to be in their very design. In men, affection was like a poison that devoured you from the inside out. It ruined the man almost as irrevocably as it ruined one’s reputation. It had no place in the life of a soldier.

Except, faced with Bellatrix, Rodolphus was undeniably distracted. The noise in the background grew louder, but it sounded faint and far off to Rodolphus’ ear. His eyes were trained on Bellatrix, loathing the glass she pressed to her lips. “Excruciating,” he repeated, lips pulling into a smirk. “Thanks to my wife, I know a thing or two about excruciating.” Plucking the glass from her fingers, Rodolphus placed it on the table beside them, hooking an arm around her waist and reeling her in closer. There were moments when being married to Bellatrix was unbearable. She was as unyielding as any man and she had a penchant for teasing, something he had learnt during the months since their own wedding. She was as skilled in the art of seduction as she was torture.

“Did you not spare a thought for their boys?” Rodolphus questioned with a hint of jest, however that blood traitor family couldn’t have been further from his thoughts. He had grown tired of the wedding before the ceremony had even finished and no amount of wine could make him forget what was weighing down on him, the very reason he had stood at the altar all those months ago; he did it for his master and because it was expected of him. And yet it wasn’t enough. They needed a child, a fact which the Dark Lord wouldn’t let him forget. With each new wedding, his failure was cast further into the light. They were the strongest, the most faithful of all his followers. They were expected to set an example. 

"Your mercy is something to behold." Alecto was also said to be present at the extermination of the Weasley family, but Rodolphus highly doubted she’d have been able to pull it off had his wife not been present. Few had the stomach to do what they did and walk away from it with their conscience intact. Rodolphus trusted few and Bellatrix was one of the only people he had never doubted with their Lord’s work. Which was one of the reasons why he had been so immensely relieved to learn Bellatrix was the woman he had been tasked to marry. Not to mention her apparent passion for her work which sent his desires into a frenzy. Placing a knuckle beneath her chin, he raised her lips to his. Though they were equally matched in most endeavours and he was as capable of teasing his wife as she was him, he closed the gap between them, his lips moulding to hers with a tenderness that Rodolphus could never have shown had it not been for the wine coursing through his veins. 

She took a sip of her wine, her smirk visible around the rim through the clear glass.  She had indeed knew what he meant, and even if it was a small slight she would not have taken any great offense.  She knew his feelings on the institution of marriage matched if not perhaps rivaled her own.  The name still sounded foreign even to herself; at heart, she was and always would be a Black, despite the number of people who seemingly thought it appropriate to besmirch the noble name.  Though the blood that coursed through her veins would always be Black, she could no longer deny that Bellatrix Lestrange was a good, strong name.  A name that already induced fear in the likes of many.

"Suppose I could say the same," she mused, thinking about her first reaction when she was arranged to the brawny man before her.  It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, but rather that the idea of being tied down to another human being loathsome to her.  Thus, when the marriage became a reality and it was apparent he wasn’t going to be the type to watch her every move, to try to exert dominance over an dominant force as herself, her reservations were somewhat abated. If nothing else, they made a dynamic, deadly duo as the Dark Lord’s finest warriors, and though she wouldn’t say so aloud, she couldn’t deny the sense of belonging she felt when his arms wrapped around her each evening; like that of a warm, comforting blanket.  

"Oh, you caught me," she replied to his artificial horror, feigning a sense of guilt.  "The screams were excruciating." She paused, her lips curling upwards again. “Excruciatingly delightful," she continued with a twisted chuckle, not missing his eyes fall upon her lips.  She leaned in closer as he did, her head tilting to the side as if readying to press her lips to his, all but tuning out the beginnings of commotion she heard behind her. Before they meet, she pulls away, eyes flickering playfully as she returns her glass to her mouth instead, taking an oversized sip. 

#minipara:bellatrix