rodolphus "f*ckboy of evil" lestrange (dolphonzo) wrote in cultureic, @ 2017-01-28 11:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | apolline johnson, jonah yaxley, rodolphus lestrange |
I’ve always considered you a friend / I don't see why that has to end
WHO: Rodolphus Lestrange, Jonah Yaxley & Lina Johnson, ft Hitchcock
WHAT: Things go wrong when Jonah gets moved.
WHEN: 28 January, 2017
WHERE: DMLE Holding Cells
WARNINGS: Violence
He barely spoke. He barely ate or slept or acknowledged his situation. When they came to talk to him, he stared at them at length, saying nothing. The only one who would get any reaction out of him at all was Gawain, and the moment he was in sight Rodolphus would struggle against his restraints or the bars of the cell until either he was gone or someone stunned him. But while the last few hours since arrest was a blur, there were certain things he noticed. Certain things he remembered. It was Hitchcock who made it possible, and once upon a time Rodolphus would have marveled at his incompetence. There were more Death Eaters in the cells now, familiar voices and faces to Jonah. Faces that, for the most part, it was better for him to avoid. As the cells had started to fill, he’d been moved a couple of times. Hitchcock had appeared at his cell again, a weary look on his face like he had forgotten to have his 2pm doughnut and the lack of sugar in his blood was pressing him to the brink. “I’m moving you again,” he said and Jonah had nodded, followed. It was an easy move, straightforward, a job anyone could have done. Hitchcock was not anyone however. The path led straight by Rodolphus’ cell and Hitchcock walked to his left, keeping Jonah on the far right. He couldn’t walk in a straight line and he wasn’t paying any attention to their surroundings. Jonah wasn’t really, either. It was easier to walk and look straight ahead. Easier, better. As they neared one of the cells, Hitchcock stopped with a loud exclaim and started to pat his robes down. Jonah had to rear back to stop himself from walking straight into Hitchcock’s back. “I forget which cell,” Hitchcock mumbled to himself, still patting his robes, and Jonah let out an irritated exhale. In the same moment, two hands reached through the bars for him, grabbing his robe and pulling him in, rough enough that Jonah let out a muffled and surprised yelp. When it came to any other Knight, Rodolphus was still loyal to the Dark Lord, even after his death. He had said, would say, nothing of any of their crimes, give nothing away. As one of His chosen, his Inner Circle, that was his duty and he would uphold it even after His death. But Jonah was an exception. Jonah had been his wife's mentee, their cousin's husband. He had experimented with feeding cell phones to muggles, killing them with glitter. In some ways he had been like Bellatrix, in most others, Rodolphus always felt Jonah had been like him. He was given the privilege of being promoted to Inner Circle… and then he betrayed them. And hurt Evan. Rodolphus' hands wrapped around the man's neck and began to squeeze. He would not let that slide. He wasn’t sure at first whose fingers were pressing roughly against his throat, thumbs digging into his larynx with force. He wasn’t sure, until he tried to turn his head and recognised Rodolphus. Jonah could barely breathe, air supply restricted heavily, although he shouted out. Hitchcock, who had dropped the piece of paper he’d been hunting for and began to hunt around on the floor, started to try and pull himself to his feet and the cells around them erupted into noise. His own hands went to Rodolphus’, a weakened “Get off” escaping him, as Jonah tried to pull Rodolphus’ fingers’ back as far as they could possibly go. "Traitor," Rodolphus hissed, squeezing his fingers harder. Jonah was up against the bars now, Rodolphus close enough behind him it would be difficult to tear him away. Hitchcock was yelling now, but with any luck, they wouldn't be able to save him in time. "You betrayed us, you betrayed Him, and that will not stand." The edges of Jonah’s vision were greying out, the world narrowing to Rodolphus’ hands on his neck and the utilitarian grey around him. He wanted to hit him, a punch that would reverberate, but he wouldn’t be able to get up the right momentum if he aimed through bars. Still he tried anyway, digging his elbow back first, then a fist towards Rodolphus’ abdomen. “Fuck you,” he gasped out, rearing to slam himself against the bars in an effort to dislodge the grip. Suddenly there were footsteps. “Immobulus,” the Head Auror shouted over the din, her wand aimed firmly at Lestrange. His hands froze, mid-squeeze, and suddenly his grip loosened as he fell to the floor. As the Death Eater stilled, Lina pushed past Hitchcock and reached for Yaxley’s arm, gently tugging him away from Lestrange’s cell. Her eyes flickered over Jonah’s face and neck with some concern. “He’ll be all rig—” Hitchcock said, but Lina silenced him with a raised hand. “Just take some deep breaths, Yaxley,” she told the former Auror. “You’ll be fine.” Jonah’s breaths came as gasps, desperate attempts for his lungs to force some air back into themselves. His hands went to his neck, brushing against the bruises already there from Rodolphus’ fingers. When he looked at Lina, his pupils were huge. “I, uh, thanks,” he said, voice barely working, words trailing off into coughs. As he turned his head to look at Rodolphus in his cell, Jonah’s expression flickered, anger mixing with a faint spike of embarrassment. “Fucker.” “That’s enough of that, Yaxley,” Lina said firmly, directing him further along the corridor. Tilting his head in a show of something approaching deference, Jonah followed her. He didn’t look in any of the other cells. |