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Rodolphus Lestrange (parentalia) wrote in the_recruitment,

"Oh, look at you. You're so benevolent. You'll talk to the Dark Lord for the sake of the rest of us." He held both his hands out towards her as if worshiping some deity that had suddenly appeared before him in the flesh. He was worried about the Dark Lord but not to the point that he wanted Bellatrix to plead his case to him. He'd prefer that somehow just her name would gloss things over and he wouldn't have to feel like he owed her something. Gripping the chair he pushed himself up, adjusting the clothes over his chest. His cloak, he'd left it in the snow back at Hogsmeade. His mother would hit him over the head with a newspaper for that.

He wanted to ask her if she thought the fight would end up as an article in the Prophet but he knew she would just ignore him. He hoped it did show up there, though. He was starting a scrap book.

"I didn't fail," he defended himself, "you didn't give me any time. You tell me to go get her and two minutes later you're there behind me upset that I didn't already have her? If anyone's to blame it's Avery. Completely Avery. There was a good five and a half meters between us. Could he have been any further away?"