Who: Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange When: Tuesday evening Where: Lestrange Manor What: Rodolphus comes home from meeting with Voldemort and needs healing and discussions of evil plots Rating: PG-13 for blood Status: Completed log
Dolph was both literally and metaphorically beaten and bruised. The Dark Lord had been physically and verbally abusive, moreso than expected despite what he knew had been blatant stupidity in respect to Dorcas Meadowes. She had infuriated him, and he had reacted heedlessly. Had Ben succeeded it would have been a different story entirely. Black's presence was unexpected, but he should have realized that, after having threatened her, Meadowes' friends might not permit her to be alone--a severe oversight.
After apparating home (concentrating as hard as possible to avoid splinching himself), Rodolphus limped to his study, instructing a house elf to fetch Bellatrix and bring what salves, pastes and other items that would be necessary to fix his injuries as he poured himself a stiff drink. His face, arms and abdomen were cut in various places, all deep in varying degrees. He had bruises on his legs from the multiple times he had crashed to the ground after The Dark Lord had performed the cruciatus curse. Voldemort had made sure that Rodolphus felt the repercussions of his mistake; that he understood without a shadow of doubt that, were it to happen again, he and Yaxley would both be paying a much worse price than what The Dark Lord had deemed a 'loss of favour'.
Then there had been he'd left Rodolphus with to rectify the mess with Meadowes and Sirius Black. To lure out as much of the resistance as possible, and have the Death Eaters take them all out at once. To further separate the Ministry from "terrorist activities" by having Rodolphus denounce whatever the resulting actions were, vowing to eradicate the problem immediately.
Bellatrix had been settled quite comfortably on the chaise in her parlour, flipping idly through a book when one of the house elves popped into the room and immediately began speaking in its irritatingly timid and simpering manner. "Mistress Bellatrix! Master Rodolphus is home. Tofty is sent to fetch you. To fix Master Rodolphus!"
Her expression darkened at the creature's news and in an instant, her book was tossed to the floor and she was on her feet striding purposefully through the house to his study. When he had first informed her that the Dark Lord had summoned him, she had been unable to repress the flash of jealousy that came at the fact that her husband was enjoying a private audience with their Lord and Master while she remained at home. But she should have suspected, after the past week and the debacle with Meadowes and Sirius, that the meeting was not going to be a pleasant one for her husband.
As she entered the study, her long strides stopped abruptly as she took a moment to silently assess Rodolphus's condition. The Dark Lord's anger was evident in every deep gash across his body, in the way he held his glass, in the expression on his face. Bellatrix certainly did not fault her Lord for his punishment. To question him would have been unthinkable. Nor did she ask trite questions to which the answers were quite readily apparent. No, her only reaction was the soft look of concern that flickered just briefly across her face as she went to his side.
The house elf had returned with its arms full of supplies and it barely had time to deposit the items on the floor before Bellatrix had dismissed it with a snapped, "That will be all." And then, for the second time that week she found herself musing on what could have been a possible career as a healer as she sat on the edge of the ottoman and leaned forward to carefully but quickly undo the buttons of his shirt to better reveal the extent of his injuries. "Do you require the healer?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she pulled back ruined and blood soaked fabric from his skin before looking up to meet his eyes with her own. It was her own way of asking just what he had been forced to endure, as cuts and slashes were well within her ability to mend, but she knew full well that the Dark Lord could inflict all manner of less visible wounds.
"No," Rodolphus replied quietly, wincing as she began tending to him. "There is nothing you should not be able to mend." He was glad she had came so quickly, as he had difficulty swallowing the scotch he'd made himself, the glass shaking in his trembling fingers. Bellatrix was the only person aside from the Dark Lord that Rodolphus would show weakness in front of. Her soft touch and healing showed the rare tenderness they shared in the moments between fighting for the cause and hurtling bits of decor at one another. She was attentive and voiced honest concern without asking question he had no intention of answering. He had never been a talkative man; Rodolphus detested those who spoke without consideration. They did themselves no favours with their ramblings. Rodolphus didn't waste words. He said what was necessary, and now, as his wife worked slowly to tend to him, he did the same, with a sombre, "Thank you, Bellatrix."
Sincere expressions of gratitude were unsettling and Bellatrix shrugged off his thanks. She was simply doing what needed to be done; what he would do for her were their positions reversed. Her eyes flickered towards his glass and she easily recognised the tell-tale signs of a few too many rounds with the cruciatus, but there was little to be done for that. Instead she devoted her attentions to his chest as she touched her wand to one deep cut after the next, silently knitting flesh whole. Her hand moved to his shoulder next, quite firmly urging him forward so she could divest him of his shirt and tend to the wounds on his arms as well. He was, at least, a far more compliant patient than she tended to be, although any resistance that he offered would quickly be met by her more typical demanding insistence. "Your back as well?" she asked as she finally looked up from having finished with the last of the cuts on his arms, wanting to ensure she took care of all of his bleeding before starting in with the salve. One might suggest that she had a bit too much experience with this, that this was decidedly not normal, but it was all Bellatrix knew. There was a price - a bloody and violent one - to be paid for mistakes in their world.
"Yes, though it isn't terrible," Rodolphus answered. After a few more quiet moments, while she worked and he obeyed the directions the touch of her hands bade him follow, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before telling her, "The Dark Lord gave me a new task, to compensate for the result of the failed attack on Meadowes." Having (he supposed) learned from their argument before his inauguration not to instruct Bellatrix to do things, he phrased his next words carefully. "I would like your assistance, should you be willing to provide it."
Bellatrix did not particularly care if Rodolphus deemed the wounds on his back to be inconsequential. Her insistence upon doing as she wished extended to healing her husband and she would see him properly mended. She continued to move him this way and that so she could inspect and reach the wounds on his back. Having just picked up the jar of salve, she stopped in her efficient ministrations at his words and once again met his gaze. A task from the Dark Lord was something to be relished and naturally she would quite willingly assist her husband in carrying out whatever their master wished. Even if he had not asked so politely, although a slight smirk played at the edge of her lips at his carefully worded request.
"Of course," she readily agreed. "What are his instructions?" There was at least some recognition on her part that their Lord could be quite vindictive in his assignments after such a failure, but she was confident in her ability - in their ability, even - to handle anything.
"He wishes us to lure as much of the resistance as possible out in the open and slaughter them," Rodolphus explained before finishing off the last of his drink, his hand still shaking. "He wishes me to draw as much attention away from the Ministry and my blunder as possible, by having myself express... the government's dedication to rid the wizarding world of all terrorist activity. We must distance the Ministry from the Dark Lord, and be rid of Dumbledore's vigilantes in one fell swoop."
Bellatrix stood and went to retrieve the bottle of scotch, pouring first a glass for herself and then refilling Rodolphus's as she considered the assignment. Draw them out and kill them. The latter part was simple enough, although the former might pose some challenge. "Based upon those who we have identified, I would say if we wish to draw them out, we will need to let them think they are coming to save the poor, innocent people from the evil Death Eaters. Play to their hero complex." Seated again, her drink was traded for the salve as she began smearing it across his chest with her fingers, somewhat less gingerly now, although still careful not to reopen the freshly mended wounds. "We simply need to find a suitable target," she mused, running through a list of possibilities in her head.
"Yes. I suspect, by how quickly Bones and Prewett came to Bagnold's aid last month, that they have ward tracking in place in particular places. Assuming that Dumbledore is leading them, perhaps it would be most effective to target either a person or place that would immediately attract his attention," Rodolphus said thoughtfully. Something big, but nothing destructive of purist property? Something that would require the attention of many people without implicating the Ministry? Rodolphus was at a loss for where to strike without sparking more suspicion of his cabinet, or without destroying aspects of wizarding culture and history. Beyond that, he was still shaken and sore and unable to complete focus his attention on the task at hand, his mind incessantly returning to dread that sat in his stomach whenever he was being punished by his Dark Lord.
At the mention of Dumbledore, Bellatrix's eyes flashed with inspiration. No, she was not quite so reckless as to propose an attack upon Hogwarts itself. Tempting as the idea may have been... No, she told herself firmly with what sense of reason she possessed. "The Hog's Head," she declared. "Or all of Hogsmeade, really. It is certain to attract his attention, between his brother and its proximity to the castle grounds." Yes, there would undoubtedly be collateral damage, but Bellatrix did not care. Any who were members of pureblood society would be recognised and spared (or most of them, at any rate) and those who fell would simply be necessary sacrifices in their quest to bring about their Lord's victory. Not to mention that Bellatrix did have some concern of ensuring her husband's success. Secondary to her desire to carry out the work of the Dark Lord, of course, but the concern was still there, regardless. It would be a bold statement on their part, but anything less and they would run the risk of only attracting a paltry few of Dumbledore's little rebellion. That would be unacceptable.
"The Ministry, of course, would not dream of doing such a thing and you can issue your statements of shock and horror, etcetera. I may even coax Narcissa into doing...well, something in my name for the victims." She really could play this game when it suited her.
Hogsmeade... Well. That would certainly be effective. A brass statement, certainly, but effective. It might even draw out the Headmaster himself. But certainly, between the wards and Dumbledore's brother owning The Hog's Head, it would draw the attention of the resistance. It would bring them out in their blood-traitor, mudblood-loving ranks, and they would be unprepared for the pandemonium... and then destroyed. The Dark Lord could send a very clear message, while Rodolphus could rectify his error. "I think... that it will be very demonstrative of our loyalty to Our Lord," he said. "I believe we should inform the ranks of this gradually, however. The Carrows, in particular, will run off in their idiocy before thinking, leaving nothing but dust trails and common sense behind them. Perhaps we should instruct everyone to more carefully monitor journal exchanges, to gain a clearer idea of whom, exactly, is working so adamantly against us--build on Ben's list."
Trust was not something that came particularly easily to Bellatrix, even when it came to their ranks. It was not that she believed they would willingly betray their cause so much as, like her husband, not trusting them to overcome their own stupidity. "They all talk too freely. As far as I am concerned, there is no need to inform any of them until the plans have been set and they need to know. If nothing else, it will spare us from their tedious questions. I am already answering what is to become of Meadowes on a seemingly daily basis." Once again, she began to move her husband about, this time so she could wrap a length of cloth around his mid-section to cover the worst of the gashes. Monitoring journal entries, while certainly something she could see the merits of, was not a task she felt any personal enthusiasm towards as it would involve subjecting herself to the most idiotic and banal of conversations. But the others could devote their time and efforts to that task, while she and Rodolphus planned their attack. "It will at least provide them with some means of occupying their time," she agreed, if not with nearly as much enthusiasm.
"I am tired of reading queries about when a meeting will take place," Rodolphus added, shaking his head. "As if the Dark Lord has a day planner. I do not know when they will understand that when they are needed they will be called upon." Enthusiasm and passion was certainly a necessity, and welcomed when the cause was concerned, and the majority of the ranks possessed excess amounts of both. But discretion and patience? In those respects, they were all lacking. With a twinge at the reminder of the afternoon's meeting with his Lord, Rodolphus realized that he himself had been acting unbecoming of both his position as Minister for Magic, and his station within the Death Eaters. There could be no more mistakes as that with Meadowes. Where the resistance was concerned, they would follow the Dark Lord's orders from here on out, unless a chance encounter provided opportunities otherwise.
Discretion and patience were hardly Bellatrix's strong suit either, but at least when she did things like oh, say, owl a bloody torso to Albus Dumbledore, she kept it to herself. Well herself and Leoben, at any rate. "They are restless," she replied, in a rare moment in which she was more sympathetic than her husband. Not that it was an excuse - there were perfectly suitable diversions to be found, after all. "Perhaps I will suggest more of them take up Muggle hunting. That should be harmless enough, at least for most of them." Actually... that did give her an idea. "The thought occurs to me that if there were to be an escalation of our attacks upon the Muggles - those that we would actually take credit for - it could give the Ministry something to claim as an accomplishment when those attacks suddenly stop." It was not the most well thought out of plans, but certainly a notion worth consideration.
"Perhaps..." Rodolphus offered quietly. His brain had reached what it was able to handle for the evening, and now that Bellatrix had tended to his wounds and they had at least worked at the bare bones details of how to satisfy the Dark Lord's request, he was ready to take a potion and sleep dreamlessly until the morning. Rodolphus had much, still, to do at the Ministry this week in addition to Voldemort's task, and there was no way he could be properly effective and efficient when he could barely think beyond Bellatrix's touch and the ache in his knees.
Bellatrix could recognise the clear signs of exhaustion in her husband and knew that any attempts at continuing the conversation beyond this point would be useless. Instead she leaned down and poked through the collection of vials on the floor before retrieving two. The first, the Dreamless Sleep potion, was slipped into her pocket - that she would give to him only after he had been comfortably settled into their bed. The second was a powerful pain relieving potion that she uncorked and pressed into his hand without explanation. It would at least mitigate some of the after-effects of the cruciatus, as well as ease the ache of his other assorted injuries. Oh, she could have given it to him earlier rather than force him to endure their entire conversation in pain, but she had wanted him lucid as she tended to him. Admittedly at least in part so she did not have to deal with him in some potion-induced stupor. Her consideration only went so far. "I trust you do not intend to sleep here," she said as she stood and extended her hand to him. It was not a question.
Rodolphus took her hand and stood before downing the pain relief potion Bellatrix had given him and setting the vial on his desk. Every inch of him seemed to be stiff and aching, but still, before the potion had the opportunity to take full effect and make him useless, he lightly cupped Bellatrix's left cheek with his free hand (the other still holding hers, both for comfort and guidance when they began making their way toward the bedroom) then leaned in and kissed the right.
His display of affection was allowed as if it was only something of an imposition and then Bellatrix pulled her hand free from his, only to move closer to him and wrap an arm around his waist. These moments were allowed, appreciated, even, only because they were not acknowledged. So much as a word from him to comment on anything akin to kindness or tenderness and she would promptly deposit him on the floor, injured or not. But for now, she was content to provide what support she could offer - both physically and mentally - as they moved slowly through the halls of the Manor. "We will fix this," she said with a quiet yet firm resolve. There was no question in that - even though it had not been her mistake, she would still help him regain their Lord's favour. And she would not have him question that, or think for even one fleeting, doubting moment that there was any alternative to success.