rp log: rodolphus and bellatrix who. rodolphus and bellatrix where. their estate in st. ives when. 5 february; directly after cygnus cleaves what. bella is melancholy. rodolphus reaps bruises and rewards. rating. pg. status. complete
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The absence of Bellatrix's father often had a sobering effect on her; the lack of him would always bring her into a greater quietness (near melancholy) that was to be only satisfied by the hours. She saw to the horses herself -- untacking them, brushing their coats until they gleamed and then turning them back out to gambol upon the hillside until the sun began to set below the rim of the far flung lighthouse -- before she traveled back indoors. Pushing the windswept coils of hair from her forehead, she draped her jacket across a chair in the hall and set out for the library. It was typically Rodolphus's abode (for there too the main study resided), but as she felt the silence of the house weigh in around her, she inherently knew that he simply wasn't about. Treading the thick persian rug with her muddy tall boots, she slid into a leather wing-backed chair and gave a smart tap of her wand. A slim, green leather-bound volume came floating gently off the shelf to slide into her lap, pages opened to the chapter she last left.
As Rodolphus returned to the library, having just roused and utilized his owl, he took a moment to pause and study the muddy bootprints on the rug. It occurred to him, as it often did, that if his father had the slightest conception of everything Bellatrix exposed him to, he might be tempted to go so far as to use the Imperius to separate them. With a hint of a smile tugging his lips up slightly to the left, a tiny glimpse of clean teeth in the shadows, he waved his wand in practiced movements, fixing the anomaly in the room's neatness. Other men didn't bother learning cleaning charms. Other men only had to worry about their sons covering the house in mud.
"I take it your father has left?" he asked, standing a number of paces away from her, carefully studying the lines on his hands.
Rodolphus's voice drew her attention from the page (his timing, as usual, near pitch perfect) as she let the length of a full breath run before she turned her eyes upward to fall upon the slope of his shoulder, the angle of his jaw. With the tip of her wand, she shut the book.
"Obviously -- " which wasn't spoken harshly; her voice even taking on a softer cant as her chin tilted. His presence was not unwelcome (if intriguing -- but was this not his domain? his space into which she marched so brazenly?).
"There was always the chance that you two had gotten into some manner of debate which necessitated your Transfiguring him into a book to prove a point," Rodolphus replied cheerily, looking her in the eye now as his hands slid to clasp behind his back. "I didn't want to make any assumptions. It would be unforgivably amiss of me to fail to greet my father-in-law due to a mere change in matter."
"I would be far more likely to Transfigure your father into a book," she pointed out mildly, splaying her palm against the green leather binding. The corner of her mouth bowed. " -- As the change in state could only do him greater good whereas my father cuts a striking figure on a horse. Unfortunately he would not be so inspiring as a book. In a saddle."
"You underestimate your father," Rodolphus said, gracefully ignoring her jabs at his father -- for now. "I'm certain that if he intended to he could still give you a run for your money, even if he happened to have had the misfortune of having become a book. Perhaps even if you devolved him to a novel."
"Nevertheless wizard shall he stay." Her mouth twitched again and she slid the book from her lap onto the endtable, wand balanced light upon her thigh. The desire to prick him into ceasing the study of his hands rose within her and yet, for a moment still, she could hold it at bay. "Where have you been?"
"I was just owling my father," Rodolphus said lightly, tilting his head. "I forgot to mention that he would be immensely better off as some dreadful history tome, but I'll be sure to tell him when next we meet. Unless, of course, I would be denying you some pleasure in stealing the act from you."
"In retrospect, I think he would be far suited to be relegated to the Encyclopaedia. Large, boorish, terribly dry and hardly useful." Carefully tucking her wand back into the creme silk sleeve, she rose and took two steps closer to Rodolphus with her knuckles resting upon her hipbones. "And/or Kenneth Mulciber."
"You want Kenneth Mulciber to be my father?" Rodolphus said, with all appearances of incredulity. "I have to say, your taste has lowered considerably in the time since last we spoke."
That elicited a cuff to the shoulder and a sigh as she shook her head. "There is one beast that I prefer less than your father. Don't be exasperating, Rodolphus."
"If I'm exasperating you must consider it nothing more than the universe's balancing of the scales against your antics," Rodolphus replied, taking a step closer to her, his smile minutely more pronounced. "You know, our floors are clean. They can be traversed without heavy duty footwear."
"Antics." The toe of her boot rose and fell as her index finger found its way to the center of his solar plexus. One eyebrow arched. "Sweet Circe forgive me. I've gotten mud on my husband's rug. I'm an incurably naughty girl." She prodded him again. "Antics."
"Antics," Rodolphus agreed. "It's a very childish word. I expect you should feel duly chastised."
"You have thirty seconds to offer your apologies for reducing me to ribbons and pinafores before I remind you that you married a woman who is beyond antics," she said, her fingertips poised at the sleeve in which her wand was concealed. "It's your decision."
"Bellatrix. Antics are childish, not feminine," Rodolphus said calmly, calculating how long it would take him to draw from this position and what his chances were of restraining her if he moved quickly.
"Oh? Then tell me, Rodolphus, what is this -- ?" One step back -- one rocked moment upon her heel -- and her hand moved swiftly from her sleeve, balling into a fist to send crashing for the high plane of his jaw.
"Violent," Rodolphus replied, from the floor to which he'd ducked and rolled. Rodolphus had practiced the movements of dueling since childhood. He was rarely anything but impressed with Bellatrix; he had moved in time, but only barely. "Must you?"
"You drive me to it, my dear -- " was her immediate response, her sensibilities offended by his otherwise markedly praiseable reflexes. Her hands lit upon a marble statuette and she threw it at him, quickly followed by a porcelain vase and the book she had been previously reading. "My antics."
Well. That was enough. Rodolphus, much as he would be loathe to admit it to nearly anyone, liked Bellatrix's temper. It was, all other things aside (and there were many), a fascinating intellectual diversion. However, there were limits to how much his patience could endure. "Immobulus," he said sternly, stopping the vase and the book in mid-air. He rose, his arm aching from the force of the collision it had just had with the statuette, and plucked both from their suspension, setting them down on the nearest table.
"I would appreciate it if you calmed yourself," he said in his most level tone, resisting the urge to rub at his wounded arm for fear of encouraging her.
"I would appreciate it if you took me seriously," she responded, slowly lowering a glass paperweight back to the shelf it had been propped upon. Her shoulders rose and fell with a breath before she stepped back toward him, her fingertips firm upon the shoulder that took the brunt of the statuette. Beneath the sleeve of his jacket she felt the muscle for any inconsistency -- any heat or potential soreness -- and finally rolled her eyes. "You'll be lucky to bruise."
"I do take you seriously," Rodolphus said, more cautiously now that she was back within striking distance. "In the things you need to be taken seriously in. If you would like me to refer to your propensity for muddy bootprints with reverence, I'll do my best to oblige you, although I hardly see why you would make such a demand on me. Have I ever questioned your capability or dignity in any area that matters?"
His logic gave her a fair amount (nearly one fully second -- fair for her) of pause -- into which she inserted a light kiss upon the cheek that could have suffered the brunt of her fist -- before her hand fell away from his shoulder and she shook her head. In a reflection of his initial pose, her eyes fell to the lines in the back of her palms. She was not chastized. A deep breath. "I overreacted. Constant preparation for jabs from others -- " Father's hasty exit. She shrugged. "I'll take the boots off."
Rodolphus raised an eyebrow as Bellatrix turned shamefaced, sliding his arms to compensate for the movements hers had made, hands resting gently on her biceps. "I don't give a damn if you take the boots off or not. It was a throwaway comment and you know me better than to think otherwise. I encourage you to decimate the furniture. I suspect Rabastan would be well pleased to know you can make such quick work of the library. I would simply appreciate it if you avoided decimating the decorations by launching them at me in future."
"If you bruise I'll make it up to you," she murmured, stepping forward to sink her cheek against his chest. She would not admit that her conversation with Cygnus Black left her flustered. The idea planted in her head that men such as Mulciber and Rookwood could undercut her loyalty to her father (to the Dark Lord) left an anxious pit in her stomach. And it was taken out on Rodolphus. Where it was safe.
"After nearly a decade of marriage, you'd think I would have earned the right as soon as you attempted to behead me with sculpture," Rodolphus scoffed, stroking her hair.
"I trust you to dodge my projectiles, generally." Sighing, her arms tightened briefly around his waist before she straightened and took a few steps backward. She knew Rodolphus was a good match; she took comfort from his even demeanour. She could admit that she loved him. In her own way. "I am, however, quite happy to engage in whatever non-violent activity you have in mind."
Rodolphus paused, just for a moment. "Most of the non-violent activities I have in mind do not involve increased distance," he said delicately, looking her in the eye.
She could not deny the speed her heart took as the implication he made was perfectly clear (and any excuses that involved weariness or pain would simply be an untruth). A shallow breath hissed from her teeth. "Then come closer."