rodolphus lestrange is living true crime. (actualised) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-11-17 20:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | bellatrix lestrange, rodolphus lestrange |
WHO: Bellatrix Black & Rodolphus Lestrange
WHAT: How to Woo a Black in 10 Plus Years
WHEN: This spans many years, and that's as specific as I can be
WARNINGS: There's violence and mentions of torture!
The home of the Black family was always immaculate — every surface in the manor gleaming beneath a carefully curated display of family heirlooms and magical relics. Bellatrix had grown accustomed to moving through parts of it as she might move through a museum, disturbing nothing as she passed them with an idle sense of reverence. But seeing the rooms done up for the holidays reignited the intrigue. Wreaths lined the hallways with boughs that smelled unmistakably like Christmas and lights twinkled from the ceilings, casting a gentle glow over the guests that had infiltrated her home. Bellatrix, too, had been decorated for the season in a dress of her mother’s choosing. She found it decidedly absurd, but she’d had no choice but to accept her fate of dodging the hands of her relatives as they reached out to pinch her cheeks. She’d been happy to avoid many of her parents’ acquaintances and instead wandered the manor by herself. Sitting at the heart of the house was a large Christmas tree, easily three times her height, but what caught her attention most was the stacks of wrapped presents beneath it. She noticed a boy near her own age seemed to be having the same thought in front of the tree and she cleared her throat. “Those aren’t for guests,” she said, lifting her jaw defiantly. “So don’t get any ideas.” Rodolphus turned slightly towards the girl’s voice, a smile already on his face. It was hard not to grin in the face of so many presents and so much Christmas cheer: music, decorations, the smell of some of the food. The tree was the big draw, beautifully decorated, and beneath the presents — brightly wrapped, expertly adorned with ribbons, and sitting in a very particular present. Rodolphus had come to stare at it, out of curiosity, because it was pretty, and because he was bored of listening to his parents talk to their friends. “I’ve already had a few ideas,” he told the girl, who he was fairly sure was Bellatrix. It was sometimes hard to tell which one was Bellatrix and which was Andromeda. “My first one is to go for the smallest ones and smuggle them out in my coat.” “I’ve counted them, so I’ll know if you’ve taken any,” Bellatrix said automatically. Her eyes dropped to his jacket though, and she considered whether she should search his pockets to make sure he hadn’t tried it. Her expression remained shrewd as she tried to place him, mentally calculating which set of pureblood parents she’d have to inform of their son’s misdeeds. “I’m sure you have your own tree somewhere.” “I do,” Rodolphus said, still grinning, “but I wanted something from yours. It’s the giving season.” “It is,” Bellatrix agreed. She’d heard the phrase passed around between the adults enough to recognize it. “So, what are you giving me, then?” Rodolphus tilted his head to the side slightly, as if in thought, and slowly put his hand into his pocket. He lifted his closed fist out and moved closer, holding it out towards Bellatrix, instructing her to open her hand. When he pulled his hand away, a half eaten chocolate bar lay in her palm. “It’s extremely good chocolate.” Almost as soon as Bellatrix saw his “gift”, she thrust her hand back out at him to take it. “It’s half-eaten chocolate,” she said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “I don’t want it. This is the worst gift I’ve ever gotten.” “What if I compliment your dress?” Rodolphus said, instead. He took the chocolate and broke a piece off before popping it into his mouth. “I think that would be a gift. It’s very foofy.” Bellatrix’s cheeks went red as she glanced down at herself and her mother’s choice of dress. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Rodolphus again. “If you like it so much I have an idea,” she said. “You wear the dress and I’ll wear your suit.” Rodolphus gave her a look and shook his head. Around another piece of chocolate, he said, “I cannot. I stuck this onto me.” “I highly doubt that,” she replied, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress. She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Everyone would find you more fetching in this.” “I don’t want everyone to play fetch with me,” Rodolphus said, a smug smile on his face. “I’m not a dog toy.” He knew it was a funny joke, because he could hear his parents, in the back of his head, congratulating him on wordplay, something his father had been telling him that very smart, educated men did. Rodolphus wanted to be a smart, educated man. He didn’t want to look fetching in a frankly ridiculous dress. He grinned broadly at Bellatrix Black. “I know you’re not a dog toy.” Confusion crossed her expression first, followed closely by annoyance. “That’s not the sort of fetching I meant.” “It was a joke,” Rodolphus said, helpfully. “It’s meant to be funny.” “Well, it isn’t.” Her tone was clipped, defensive with disappointment. She’d have to find some other way to shirk her obligations to playing the well-mannered daughter for the party. “Maybe you’ll find better jokes under your tree this year.” Rodolphus grinned, sinking his hand into his pocket and taking a few steps back. “Maybe,” he said, with a nod. “Or maybe I’ll find this.” His hand snapped out, showcasing a brightly wrapped, rather small present, and then he slipped through the open doorway into the party. “Wait! Come back here with that!” Bellatrix shouted after him before she left the tree behind to follow him. But once she entered the party, he and her present were nowhere to be found. Rodolphus had watched the start of the sorting ceremony with the barely attentive interest of someone who had been there, done that (only the year before) and had more exciting things to do (talk to his friends about their summers). He clapped politely when required and, as the hat started to go down the list, applauded in the tune of a funeral dirge as someone with the surname ‘Adams’ was sorted into Hufflepuff. His friend snickered: Rodolphus’ elbow met his side. ‘Black, Bellatrix’ was more interesting than ‘Adams.’ Rodolphus raised an eyebrow and watched the girl put the hat on, how quickly it bellowed out Slytherin. He remembered her, dressed in a ridiculous dress, chasing after him for lifting a present under a tree during a Christmas party that had yawned on forever. Rodolphus smiled a greeting as she came nearer the table. It was later, when the ceremony had ended, when Rodolphus finally spoke to her again, as the dinner concluded and people milled out of the hall. Slytherin prefects were waiting to lead the first years to their dorms. Rodolphus insinuated himself in their ranks, smiling at Bertrand, the prefect, who rolled his eyes and kept talking. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Rodolphus.” He was curious if she remembered him. He couldn’t help it — Rodolphus’ curiosity was vast. In the time since her family’s Christmas party, Bellatrix had not only remembered him, but had learned his name as well. She knew he was a Lestrange, from a family whose lineage rivaled her own, and that he was a Slytherin in the year above her. When she met his gaze, hers clearly read You. But instead, she said, “Hello.” And after glancing at their prefect, she added, “You’re not a first year.” Rodolphus’ smile broadened in the face of her almost-glare, a smile he aimed at Bellatrix, and then at the back of the other first years heads. “I am not,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello and make you feel welcome. I trust your meal was lesser than you’re used to.” There was a beat and then he said, “People here may be prone to take your stuff. I’d be very careful.” “You mean you’re prone to taking mine stuff?” Her glare intensified for a moment and she folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t worry, I will be careful.” “Did I ever take something of yours?” Rodolphus asked, tilting his head to one side. “I never checked.” In that moment, Bellatrix wanted nothing more than to wipe the grin off his face. “You must have a short memory, Rodolphus,” she said instead. “Do you have a goldfish somewhere in your family tree?” “I genuinely thought they were going to be empty boxes wrapped up to look pretty,” Rodolphus said, with a half-shrug. “Lots of places do that.” “Decorative presents?” She furrowed her brows at him. “It’s my house, not Honeydukes.” “You can never tell,” Rodolphus said, seriously. “I went to a party somewhere that had fake fruit at it. Somebody took a bite of it.” Her skepticism remained. “You’re lying.” “I am not,” Rodolphus said. “One big bite into it and it wasn’t even real. Spat it straight back out.” Rodolphus frowned at her. “I’m not a liar.” “Well,” she began, her eyes passing over his frown before she looked straight ahead. “In your case, it’s difficult to tell Thief, liar. They might as well be the same thing.” “Oh no,” Rodolphus said, with a shrug. “They’re very different. Thief can be okay, on occasion, if it’s for the right reason.” He did regard being bored and wanting a laugh as the right reason, too. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be an idea that was shared, however, so he took a step to the side and then another. Just in case. Bellatrix slanted another glance at him and raised her eyebrows when she saw him shifting away. “Do the Lestranges have a Knockturn branch of the family or something?” The look Rodolphus gave her verged on disgusted. “Of course not,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “We’re of the best pedigree. None of that sort of people.” Looking pleased with his response, Bellatrix shrugged. She’d known, of course, that the Lestranges had no affiliation with Knockturn, but his disgust and her amusement were worth the suggestion. “Just the sort that steals things from little girls, then?” A brief pause and then Rodolphus said, “Yes. Just that sort.” He was laughing again and then he stepped back as the prefect stopped and started talking properly to the group, a speech he remembered roughly from his first year. “See you later, Bellatrix.” In the years since she’d begun school at Hogwarts, Bellatrix had come to enjoy watching the seasons change in Scotland. On the first day of autumn, she anticipated the smell of dead leaves and their orange smatter across the rolling hills of the Hogwarts grounds. Above all, she awaited the tall mug of pumpkin juice that awaited each of the students at breakfast. What she hadn’t anticipated was Rodolphus Lestrange. “Give that back!” she shouted, jumping to her feet and whirling around to face him. She eyed the pumpkin juice in his hand — the pumpkin juice she’d been moments from relishing before he’d plucked it from her hand. “Drink your own!” Rodolphus’ hand was closed tightly around the pumpkin juice and a lazy grin had spread across his face. His eyes lit up at Bellatrix’s shout, taking her volume and immediate jump to anger as a kind of congratulations on a job well done. As he’d learnt to do, he stepped out of her reach. He didn’t want her grabbing the juice back. “I don’t have any of my own left,” he said, “and I was thirsty. You didn’t look like you were drinking it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like I was —” She cut herself off, incredulous. “I was just about to drink it! “I didn’t see that at all,” Rodolphus said and then, quick as a flash, he lifted the mug to his mouth and took a long sip of the pumpkin juice. “I’m afraid it’s got my germs on it now, too.” Her eyes, focused on the now half-empty mug in his hand, grew wider and then much narrower. She could feel her face heating up, her cheeks and the tops of her ears turning red. She was going to wipe that grin right off his stupid, handsome face. “That’s it!” In one swift motion, she pulled her wand from her pocket and aimed it at him. Through clenched teeth, she announced, “Rodolphus Lestrange, I challenge you to a duel.“ Whatever Rodolphus had been expecting, it was definitely not that. He blinked over the rim of his stolen mug and lowered it slowly. His gaze slipped from Bellatrix’s face, to the tip of her wand, and then back again. “Right now?” “After class,” she said as though she’d already thought this through. “Unless you’re scared to lose to a fifth year.” Rodolphus couldn’t help himself. He scoffed. “I’m not scared to lose at all,” he said. “I rarely lose.” He took another drink of the pumpkin juice for effect and then added, “You should be, though.” But Bellatrix wasn’t the least bit intimidated. With a flick of her wand, the mug and its remaining contents exploded in his hand. Rodolphus spluttered with surprise as the juice splattered all over him, leaving him drenched and scowling. Bellatrix smirked. “See you after class,” she said before turning on her heel and leaving him there with her unfinished breakfast. There was a cut on his forehead and Rodolphus could feel blood trickling down from it, running down the side of his face. He lifted a hand to rub at it, trooping after the prefect who had found them and pulled them apart. He cut his gaze from the prefect’s back to Bellatrix, frowning. “I told you you were being too loud.” “I wasn’t being too loud,” Bellatrix muttered as she trudged along beside him, trying not to wince every time she shifted her weight to her left foot. ‘It might’ve had something to do with all that flashy magic of yours, though.” “It wasn’t that flashy,” Rodolphus said, voice pitched low. He didn’t want one of his fellow prefects to hear him arguing with someone he’d been caught duelling with. It wouldn’t go over well with the heads of house, he suspected. “I know flashier. It was your shouting.” “You’re lucky they cut in when they did,” she replied, shooting him a glare. She was far less conscientious in the prefect’s presence. She’d already be in trouble. She didn’t care. “I was only getting started. I’m sure I know even flashier spells than you.” There was a slight smirk on Rodolphus’ face as he said, “You’re not really the type to hold all your flashy spells back, Bellatrix.” His smirk moved to a proper grin and then he had to brush blood away from his eye again. He frowned at his fingers. “I’d have beat you.” “You’d have tried,” she said after biting back a comment about his having no ideas the spells she’d picked up from her father and his books. The prefect didn’t need to know that. She lifted her chin, determined not to pay any attention to Rodolphus’ grinning or his bleeding head. “And you’d have lost. It’s what losers do.” There was a great deal of confidence and self-assurance in his voice as Rodolphus rolled his shoulders back and said, “I’d have won. I always come out on top.” At that, the prefect in front of them let out a short, sharp sigh. “Would the two of you stop bickering?” Rodolphus adopted an askance expression. “I would never bicker with my dear friend, Bellatrix. We’re having a joke. Isn’t that right?” “Yes, of course,” Bellatrix said with a loud, forced laugh. “The thought of you winning a duel against me is a very funny joke, Rodolphus.” The prefect didn’t look impressed, answering first with another sigh and then, “Why don’t you both just stop talking and walk?” Bellatrix said nothing, but as soon as the prefect’s back was turned again, she jabbed an elbow into Rodolphus’ ribs and hissed under her breath, “I would’ve won.” Flinching away from the elbow jab, Rodolphus hissed back, “You were this close to going down and,” but he was rudely interrupted by the prefect spinning around. “Shut up! The two of you!” Rodolphus tried to look contrite. He did still want to be Head Boy. Bellatrix didn’t know why they’d been sent here. Moreover, she didn’t know why she’d been sent here with him, but she’d learned not to question her orders. The Dark Lord had a plan. And if hiding in Mary Minchum’s garden next to an open window with Rodolphus Lestrange was part of that plan, who was she to question it? So far, everything had gone according to plan — they’d disguised themselves and easily made their way to the house. But there were shrubs surrounding it and Bellatrix had to stand practically on top of one to get a look in the house. At first, there was no one in sight. But when a woman appeared in the doorway, Bellatrix ducked down, glancing over her shoulder at Rodolphus with a frown. “That’s her.” “Okay, excellent,” Rodolphus said, shuffling over. There wasn’t a lot of room in the blindspot in the shrubbery around Minchum’s window, but they had to make it work, even with the charms in place. Rodolphus didn’t like to rely on them too fully: you never knew what other people had in place, what charms they were likely to cast. “Now we just have to watch her and then wait for her to leave.” Minchum was wearing a dressing gown. She didn’t particularly look like she wanted to go anywhere. Rodolphus sighed and shifted again. His elbow brushed against Bellatrix’s arm. “Are you prepared to be patient?” “No,” she muttered, raising herself up enough to peer through the window at the woman inside. “Let’s set something on fire over there.” She motioned carelessly out into the garden. “Get her out of the house.” “All right.” Rodolphus turned to the side, shoulder pressing against Bellatrix for a moment as he surveyed the garden. He wanted something further away from them, that would draw her out, something large enough to truly distract. There were a number of small shrubs, but that was boring. Rodolphus found what he was looking for fairly quickly: an arch, covered in flowering roses, through which was a swinging loveseat. It was expensive. It looked wooden. Flicking his wand, fire started quickly. Flames licked up the arch, spread through the shrubs, climbed up the legs of the loveseat. There was a scream and Minchum came flying out of her house. Curses chased her through the air and Rodolphus turned to Bellatrix, smirking. “After you, milday.” Her eyes lingered on the flames and the woman who couldn’t seem to decide if she should run toward them or away from them. When her gaze cut to Rodolphus, she wore a smirk of her own. But without a word and with a flick of her wand, she threw open the window above them and hauled herself inside the house. When Rodolphus crawled in after her, she took stock of their surroundings. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Nicely done.” “Of course it was,” Rodolphus said, a smile curving the corners of his mouth upwards and then, because it was polite (and, a small part of his mind said, because he cared about her opinion), he added, “but thank you.” The crackle of the fire could be heard even inside, along with the panicked frenzy of Minchum’s voice, the spells she hollered. Rodolphus let himself stop listening as intently, gaze sweeping over the room they were in. There was nothing of any real interest, but he hadn’t expected there to be. He started to move further into the house, hand brushing briefly against Bellatrix’s elbow. “I’m fairly sure the study should be through here.” “I’m fairly sure I can see that.” She tucked her elbow in closer to her side, giving Rodolphus a look that verged on reproachful. She may have had to work with him, but she didn’t have to like him. With a stubborn set to her jaw, she swept ahead of him to lead the way to the next room. “Don’t let a bit of fire go to your head, Rodolphus. It wasn’t that impressive.” “It’s too late,” he said, passing through the doorway, casting a few spells behind him. If Minchum was to come back into the house, she’d be compelled to go the other way, a subtle hint pulling her away. “It’s already went to my head. I know you were truly impressed.” He sounded cheerful, because he was, because he had to be. If they were going to be sent to complete tasks for the Dark Lord together, Rodolphus was going to enjoy it. The study was to their right, some protections over it, but not enough to stop them, he was sure. Still, he paused. “Why don’t you take those down? Keep yourself doing something useful.” “Why don’t you get out of my way then?” She angled a glare at him and let her elbow fly free to shove him. She’d done this plenty of times before and got to work without hesitation. She tried to ignore that Rodolphus was there at all as she unravelled the protections on the room. her steely silence prevailed until they fell with a ripple through the entryway. She let out a breath. “There,” she said before stepping into the study. As she did so, she dropped her wand toward Rodolphus’ feet and cast a silent tripping jinx. Rodolphus wasn’t expecting. It hadn’t crossed his mind she would cast the spell: he’d been too busy watching her limbs, half bracing himself for a solid elbow to the gut. He tripped over the spell, stumbling forward, crashing into Bellatrix and nearly pitching the two of them into a bookcase. “Damn it, Bellatrix,” he swore. “Maybe you should watch your step,” she muttered and shrugged him away from her. “Maybe you shouldn’t trip me,” he said, frowning. He looked down at his feet, then back up at her. “Are you going to make it your next hobby? I can’t say I approve.” “Firstly,” she said, turning on him. “I have better things to do. And secondly, if you weren’t so annoying, I wouldn’t have tripped you.” Affronted, Rodolphus resisted the urge to fold his arms over his chest and glare at her but barely. “I am not annoying,” he said. “You’re just very prone to irritation.” Her forehead creased with the strength of her glare. “Only when I’m forced to be around irritating people.” With all the air of someone who was saying something incredibly cutting, Rodolphus said, “And yet you tolerate your own company so well?” He was grinning, a lopsided, satisfied slash across his face. The sight of a grin on his face only led Bellatrix to more vexation. “You’d better shut up before I decide to use more than just a harmless jinx on you.” The air shuddered for a moment, stretched, waiting for a response. It felt like it was holding its breath, oxygen slowly disappearing for a moment. Rodolphus’ eyes glittered. “You wouldn’t,” he said, confidently lifting his shoulders into a shrug. “It’d be very unprofessional.” He may have had a point — she wouldn’t want to give the elder Death Eaters or the Dark Lord reason to question her loyalty or ability to carry out her orders. But she still wasn’t about to let him think he had any leverage over her. “If I were you, I wouldn’t test me,” she said. “I can always make it look like an accident.” “You’re not that good of an actress,” Rodolphus said, confidence still coating every word. “You wouldn’t be able to resist bragging. You can duel me later, if you want. It’d be much more fair than sneak trip jinxes.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “And I’ll happily duel you later if you’ll shut your mouth now and let me get on with our orders.” “Fine,” Rodolphus said, suddenly stepping back. He was smiling. “Let’s get on with it then. Now you’ve stopped dawdling.” He hid his smile, badly, as he turned to the rest of the study and advanced towards Minchum’s desk. The rest of the night would go their way. He could feel it. The thrill of victory was intoxicating. Rodolphus had always been used to victory: smart, good at games, respected by peers and professors, and, finally, a good Death Eater. A great Death Eater, he amended, as stepped back from the Kernan’s living room. It was a mess, every surface upended, glass everywhere from windows and picture frames. There was blood, a few discarded bodies. Rodolphus was fairly sure at least one of them would hang on until they reached St. Mungo’s, but he didn’t care about that. It didn’t detract from the rightness of their mission. Turning towards Bellatrix with a broad grin, hidden behind the mask, he let out a delighted whoop. “That was excellent,” he said, pulling at the gloves on his hand, shoving them into his pocket. “Really good work. The Dark Lord will be delighted — I’m delighted.” He’d have jokingly, solemnly asked many other people for a high five. He doubted Bellatrix would find it altogether as amusing as he did. But Bellatrix was in such high spirits, she might’ve humored even the least amusing of his jokes. She cast her eyes over the scene, imagining the impending reaction of whichever Auror they dispatched to clean up their mess. It could’ve been anyone, but it was Robards’ face she imagined, hardened in spite of his anguish. Between Rodolphus’ exaltant animation and her own vindictive elation, there stood no hope of her maintaining a haughty distance from their success. Or from Rodolphus’ clearly demonstrated skill. “He’ll be beyond delighted,” she said, turning to him with a gust of exhilarated laughter. “That was — you were —” She took a deep breath, her smile wide behind her mask even as she tried to regain her composure. “Brilliantly done.” Rodolphus laughed in delight, an echo of hers, and lifted his shoulders. It was an almost shrug, because he couldn’t bring himself to dismiss his own skill. “Thank you,” he said, a hint of arrogance to his grin. He cast his eye over the scene again and then said, “You were a great help. A great partner, rather.” He was buoyed enough that he was happy to admit it, forthright and honest. Bellatrix was a great Death Eater to have to help, with admirable skill and knowledge. He was lucky. “For once, I’ll admit maybe the inner circle knew what it was doing, forcing us to work together,” she said, her eyes passing over the pattern etched into his mask without any hint of annoyance. But her own arrogance was undeterred. “You’re a great partner, too.” With a smirk, she added, “Almost as good as me.” “Almost?” Rodolphus repeated, on a laugh, his good humour obvious. “I thought you didn’t like being a partner? Preferred to work on your own. Angel of death and everything attached.” “If I’d done this myself, I’d be home by now, sipping an evening tea and sharpening my knives,” she said with just the slightest bit of lingering arrogance in her voice. She didn’t doubt the truth of her statement, but she still grinned behind her mask and added, “But I’ll admit, it wouldn’t have been as fun.” “We have fun, on occasion,” Rodolphus declared grandly, stepping forward slightly, a hand out. “Shall we get out of here?” Bellatrix considered his hand for a long moment before she nodded. She couldn’t resist casting a final look about the home they’d destroyed before she placed her hand in his. With her wand in the other, she raised it and cast the Dark Mark above them. “What’s wrong with you today?” Bellatrix snapped across the stretch of grass between them. She’d spent the last several years training and duelling with Rodolphus — by now, she knew his strengths and weaknesses as well he did. She’d seen him at his best, at his most ferocious, and the relatively sloppy spells she’d spent the last twenty minutes volleying didn’t begin to touch it. She was barely breaking a sweat. “I didn’t come here for you to go easy on me.” “Nothing’s wrong with me,” Rodolphus bit back, an edge to his voice which sounded mulish and slightly grouchy to his own ears. “These are good spells — that was a lightning one.” He didn’t mention that it had been short, a burst of magic which withdrew almost immediately after it had hit the ground slightly off target. It was still a good spell. Rodolphus straightened his spine. “Let’s go again.” “Fine,” she said and took a deep breath to refocus her concentration. She cast him a warning glare and cast her next spell. She was almost relieved when she saw the flash of his shield, after which things seemed to go back to normal. But it wasn’t long before she began gaining ground — ground she knew he was capable of defending. When another of his spells missed her by a wide margin, she paused, her aggravation mounting. “If you’re going to let me win, I’ll find someone else to duel,” she said, driving home her point with a stab of her wand, which sent a flare of orange magic hurling toward him. “There’s no point in casting a good spell if you’re going to aim for the trees.” Rodolphus sent a shield up, anticipating a harsher spell than the one he got, but grateful that he’d been quick enough to stop it anyway. Bellatrix’s spells were rarely timid. “You think I’m letting you win?” “Yes.” Though she kept a tight grip on her wand, she lowered it slightly. “That, or you’re lying about something being wrong with you.” “I’m not letting you win,” Rodolphus said, breathing out loudly, almost enough for a sigh. His feet were still planted firmly on the ground, in a duel stance, but he didn’t look like he was going to cast. He didn’t think Bellatrix would accept anything else other than an offering towards the truth so instead he said, “I’m distracted. I apologise. It’s nothing important.” “Distracted?” Bellatrix dropped her wand arm entirely and folded her arms across her chest. “What could possibly be distracting you while I’m casting such deadly and very impressive curses.” A smile curled the corners of Rodolphus’ mouth up and he laughed softly into the air. “Yes, they have been very impressive,” he said, amused. “I apologise for not giving them due deference. It won’t happen again.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?” But as soon as she’d said it, the answer occurred to her. With a gasp of indignation, she asked, “Is this because I told you about Androm— I should never have—” Her wand was suddenly drawn again, her stance ready. “I don’t need your pity, Rodolphus!” Confusion creased Rodolphus' forehead for a moment, quickly followed by indignation. "I'm not letting you win because I pity you," he said, dismissively. "That's ludicrous. I'd never do it. Put your wand down, Bellatrix." He was serious when he added, "I'd not insult you like that." She kept her wand where it was. “What is it, then?” “Personal issues,” Rodolphus said, with a shrug. “Nothing important. Are you going to hex me?” Rodolphus lifted his chin. “The Andromeda issue doesn’t change anything about how we interact with each other.” “Except that I tell you my personal issues when I’m distracted,” she said, her tone still just as accusatory even as her wand arm began to drop. “And when you’re distracted, you shrug me off.” Rodolphus opened his mouth and uncharacteristic uncertainty flashed across his face, a slight downturn to his mouth. He swallowed and it passed. “I’m not shrugging you off,” he said, even though he was. “I just don’t think you’d be interested, at present. Maybe another time.” Rodolphus put his wand away. “We can reschedule too, if you want.” “Fine!” Bellatrix squared her shoulders, ignoring the sting of rejection and trying not to linger on the question of why it bothered her so much that he wouldn’t share whatever it was that had robbed her of his full attention. What came in the stead of allowing herself to feel hurt — by Rodolphus Lestrange, no less — was a cool vindictiveness. “You can tell me what it is yourself,” she said and raised her wand again, aiming it evenly at his chest. “Or I’ll take the opportunity to practice my interrogation techniques.” Rodolphus’ surprise registered on his face, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening. The surprise was swiftly followed by something kicking him under the ribs, a twist of a persistent emotion. He hadn’t expected this reaction: a part of him had been fairly sure that Bellatrix would happily take the opportunity to leave. He supposed, looking at the cast of her expression, he should have known better. “There’s no need for that,” he said. He didn’t raise his own wand, but he was still holding it with a firm, confident grip. His reflexes were quick if she did cast; he wouldn’t be too distracted then. “Bellatrix, I was attempting to save us both from some awkwardness.” He took a few steps closer, shortening the distance, shrugging as he did. Rodolphus hid many things under a layer of apparent forthrightness. “I was distracted because I thought you looked rather,” a small pause, barely perceptible but there, “charming today. That is all.” Rodolphus grinned. “That hardly calls for you practising interrogation techniques.” That she was nonplussed by his disclosure was clear when Bellatrix opened her mouth to respond and found she had no clever riposte for him. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting him to say, but she certainly hadn’t expected that she’d been the reason for his distraction, at least not in this sense. It took her a moment, but she gradually regained her composure. “I didn’t know you found me charming at all,” she said and slowly retracted her wand arm. But when her own voice met her ears, sounding uncharacteristically small and susceptible, she realized she wanted it to be true. However, as was often the case with Rodolphus, she couldn’t yet be certain this wasn’t some deflection on his part. Or some joke at her expense. She cleared her throat, and in a more robust version of her voice, she added, “You shouldn’t let such foolish things distract you. If I were the enemy, I’d have won easily by now.” “You’re not my enemy,” Rodolphus said, calm and mild. He ignored the way something was still stabbing him under his ribs, or the way a warm hope had flooded him, only to ebb away. “I’m afraid I don’t think it was very foolish. It’s not one of my most foolish thoughts.” Bellatrix eyed him, trying to read a trace of irony or sincerity in his face. But it offered her little clarity or reassurance. She pursed her lips, reluctant to give anything of her own thoughts away without being certain. “Is this a joke? Some sort of prank? Your way of telling me to mind my own business?” It took a lifetime of confidence for Rodolphus to say, “No,” without hesitating. He was glad for the confidence, lifted his shoulders slightly. “I told you it was personal.” He almost said let’s just both go home but restrained himself, smiling slightly instead. At the sight of his smile, the worst of Bellatrix’s skepticism abated and was replaced by a feeling entirely unfamiliar to her. She breathed out a laugh and with it went the tension she’d been holding in her shoulders. “So,” she began with a smirk. “I look rather charming today, do I?” The tension that felt almost like fear that had twisted through Rodolphus uncoiled. His smile was easier and he brushed aside vivid daydreams of stabbing himself and later pretending he had said anything out of delusions brought on by a poisoned blade (it had been a fine plot he’d read somewhere). Instead, he breathed easier and moved closer. “Very,” he said, inclining his head. “Enough that I’d rather like to kiss you.” He lifted a hand to Bellatrix’s jaw and bent down. Bellatrix had to wipe a smile off her face in the moment before their lips met. Her free hand went to his chest and the other, still holding her wand, brushed lightly against his side. But it was over in what felt like an instant, and something swelled inside her chest as she blinked her eyes open to look at him. “I’d rather like you to do that again,” she said, her gaze drifting between his mouth and eyes. Rodolphus’ smile was quick, easy, and it spread across his face. “Okay,” he said, a little hushed. There was a seconds pause before he added, “You should put your wand away, first. I thought you were just happy to see me for a moment.” Bellatrix pulled a face at the joke, but her disgust was feigned, instead betraying a latent fondness as she stowed her wand away. “I’ve never been happy to see you,” she lied with a barely contained grin. Then bringing her newly wandless hand to the back of his neck, she pulled him in for a second kiss, this one more confident than the last. |