Rodolphus had been somewhat vexed by the little dinner the other night. His gift in divination was not something he could rely on. At best it was a frustrating nuisance. What point was it if he was only going to get a flashing glimpse of his wife in her element, casting spells and crushing her victims. He didn't need a damn prescient dream to know that she would prevail over her victims.
Why did it not give him information of a more strategic matter? Had McGonagall succumbed to the pox, or was she going to use that last shred of Scottish stubbornness to hang on and survive? Which of his followers were going to consider these outrageous bounties that Dolohov was offering?
The thought had left him to brood over his plans as the last of the pox was flushed from his body. He'd woken to feel twice as strong as he had in weeks. Even so, he had taken to keeping off his knee until he needed to use it, which was why he was resting as he read in the bedroom.
He was surprised to hear the doors open, but didn't flinch. He had no need to be fearful in his own home. The wards were now stronger than ever before. He seemed amused at her tone, and closed his book gently as he stood from the chaise lounge. "If I truly wanted to belittle you, Bella dear, I could do so in a dozen ways, and all before you could even think to reach for your wand." Oh she was so amusing, and so breathtaking in her anger. He certainly wasn't failing to notice, as the smirk on his face could attest to.