Darkest of Times

“He was sobbing like an infant! I thought he was going to piss himself!” Rodolphus’ head fell backwards as he laughed merrily, regaling his father with tale of the previous night’s events. He had gone moment by moment in his storytelling, right up until the MLE arrived and Rodolphus hurried away unseen in the dead of night. Mentions of what he had gotten up to afterwards, how the bloodshed had been so arousing that he had made a detour on his way home for some tension relief at his mistress’ cottage in Wales, none of this was spoken aloud. He didn’t even think on it in his father’s presence, knowing the man had a penchant for knowing when his son was up to no good, and regularly screwing a blood traitor for more than a decade would be high on the list of things Adolph Lestrange would disapprove of. Adolph knew there was no love lost in his eldest son’s marriage, and an affair in and of itself was not what the man would be displeased with. It was the culprit in the affair which Adolph would take issue with, and he would insist that after all this time there had to be a reason beyond the carnal desires it sated that Rodolphus would continue to fraternize with such a traitorous creature. There was, of course, but Rodolphus didn’t feel like explaining to his father the ins and outs of the highly sadistic nature of his relationship with Dorcas Meadowes.

They were well into their second – third? drink of the day, shut into Adolph’s expansive office on the top floor of the Lestrange Industries headquarters. On the other side of the building was Rodolphus’ office, equally as extravagant though only three-quarters the size of his father’s. The men rarely met in Rodolphus’ office, it was always Adolph’s if they met in the office at all. The pair, along with any other notable business wizards, were known to meet in high end pubs and restaurants to conduct business, but this meeting had nothing to do with business. At least, not Lestrange Industries business.

“Get your shoes off my desk.” Adolph had already told Rodolphus off for this offense once today, but Rodolphus was in such a good mood after the previous night’s events that he was far too relaxed and had thrown his feet onto his father’s desk, crossed at the ankles, and was leaning back in his chair with only the back two legs still touching the floor. “Lighten up, father,” Rodolphus bemoaned as his chair fell forward and he placed his feet back firmly on the carpeted floor. “I know you’ve had it enchanted to repel scratches, surely it can handle a little light footwork.” Rodolphus’ own desk had a similar enchantment placed upon it, and he’d put it to use buggering the secretary from time to time on top of it. A few secretaries, actually. And a few of his personal assistants. And one of the witches from accounting.

Rodolphus’ insolence was left unchallenged as both men felt the familiar burn of their master summoning them. Rodolphus could feel his pulse throbbing in the fiery sensation emitted from the tattoo on his left forearm, the ink darkened and prominent by the summons. Quickly, Rodolphus leapt from his seat and moved to the door of the office, pulling it open. “Carol, love, I’m taking my father out for a bit of celebrating over last week’s merger. Cancel our appointments for the rest of the day.” “Of course, Mr Lestrange.” He shut the door before his father’s secretary could finish her sentence and a sound similar to that of air being sucked through a tube told Rodolphus that his father had already disapparated. “Cock sucker,” he fumed, turning to see that he was, in fact, alone and would not be first to meet their master. He rarely was, but that fact had nothing to do with his father’s willingness to throw him under the Knight Bus.

It was usually his own wife, Bellatrix, that liked to show him up in the eyes of Lord Voldemort and Rodolphus had long since suspected that there was something going on there besides pure devotion. Were it anyone else and Rodolphus wouldn’t have concerned himself, besides slaying the bloke for daring to lay a hand (or anything else) on his wife, but that was not a possibility with Bella’s current affair and one of the reasons Rodolphus worked so hard to master occlumency. He was, by no means, an expert at such complicated magic, but as he was still alive to slaughter any of his wife’s other affairs Rodolphus suspected that he performed adequately. It really was one of the only things Rodolphus had ever had to really try at in his life, aside from his duties as a father which had not come naturally at first and even to this day he questioned.

Not wanting to wait a moment longer and risk being the last to arrive, Rodolphus turned on his heel and disapparated from the room. When he appeared again, he was no longer in a private office at the top of a high rise overlooking a bustling metropolis. Rodolphus stood at the end of a shoveled walk, in front of an old Victorian manor. Several trails of footsteps through the snow to meet with the walkway told Rodolphus that he was far from the first to arrive, but so long as he wasn’t the last Rod was sure he was in no danger of upsetting his lord. Stepping inside, Rodolphus ran his hand through his hair, shaking loose the bits of snow that had fallen on him during the short walk up to the house.

The corridor was silent as he walked, except for the tapping of his soles on the hardwood floors but soon enough he heard voices and upon entering the ballroom Rodolphus was met with half a dozen Death Eaters, many of whom were still kneeling before the Dark Lord as he sat in his throne like a king. Rodolphus joined them, bowing before the righteous wizard in subservient greeting before stepping back and joining his father in the ever-growing semi-circle of Death Eaters. As expected, his wife had arrived before him to greet Lord Voldemort and looked as though she would suck him dry if given the opportunity. “Darling,” he greeted his wife in a hushed tone. More followers entered behind them but other than a subtle shift in his gaze to see who was entering around him, Rodolphus paid the others little mind. Eventually Rabastan, Rodolphus’ younger brother, arrived and after bowing at Voldemort’s feet, he too took his place at his father’s side, opposite Rodolphus.