Recent Posts

Merlin she was easy. Whether she gave it up this quickly to other men as well or she reserved her eagerness for Rodolphus himself, his ego was easily bolstered by her willingness to practically throw herself at the lock on the shop door. She conjured two small vials and asked after his liking suggestively. She was playing the whore and while they both knew Rodolphus had not come here for any purpose other than getting into her knickers, he wasn't going to give it away as quick as she was willing. “Oh, I see loads of things I like, love,” he said with a grin, plucking one of the vials from her hand and inspecting it briefly before pulling the stopper. He looked at her, his eyes appeared a deeper brown in the harsh shop lighting. “Cheers,” he said as he held up his vial in toast toward her before taking a swallow of the cool liquid. Circling Ammy, Rodolphus dropped the now empty vial onto a display table at the end of the nearest aisle and came up behind her, his now empty hands free to roam over her body leisurely. “Do you always dress like a whore for work or have you special plans you’ll be missing later?” He had no intention of letting her go in a timely manner.

Ammy appeared from around a shelf of filled jars and Rodolphus’ lips curled upward ever so slightly. She was dressed whorishly, though somehow still in a respectable manner. Hair done. Heels. Obnoxiously large jewelry. And yet the tiniest little skirt that barely covered her arse. Had she any real meat on her, the skimpy little sweater dress would not have covered even an inch of her, but the model-like witch in front of him made the whole ensemble work and it excited him. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, an expectant look on her face. “Anything I want, love” he said, brushing her long, dark hair behind her shoulder and ever so lightly grazing her breast.

Clearly yelling was the only way to get anyone’s attention around this place, as he had been demanding to see Dorcas’ healer since his arrival and only now did a wizard in healer robes appear, acting as if he didn’t know exactly who Rod was. Peasant. For the time being, however, there was no further need for shouting, and Rodolphus spoke in a more appropriate volume, though his arrogance was still on full display. “I’m Rodolphus fucking Lestrange, and you must be the healer those sorry excuses for nurses were supposed to have rung 20 minutes ago.” Rodolphus didn’t enjoy having to wait for anyone, especially not for the help. “What are you doing about my wife’s condition. Those scars are unacceptable.” Surely with enough gold, Rodolphus would be able to cure Dorcas of the physical reminders of her attack. She’d have to live with the memories but her perfect body could be restored. All the other socialites threw money at various healers to retain their youthful appearance, hell, his mum had had so many magical procedures he wasn’t even certain he’d be able to recognize her from visit to visit. If they could make that happen, then surely Dorcas wouldn’t have to wear the scars of her attacker the rest of her life.

Back to work? She looked as though she’d been shoved in a wood chipper, so it made perfect sense that his stubborn-arsed wife would be thinking about work. “Get fucking dressed,” he snarled, looking down at her cleavage which was still bundled up by a bath towel and just screaming to be freed. “I’m having you transferred to Hanley just as soon as someONE FUCKING RINGS THE BLOODY HEALER!” He turned his head and hollered the last half of his sentence to make his anger at the elusive healer known once more. Rodolphus was thoroughly unimpressed with St Mungo’s care of Dorcas and her condition and was certain his family’s private healer would be able to do much more for the hideous scars that covered the gorgeous brunette.

Refusal to speak to him or explain herself was par for the course, as far as Dorcas was concerned. Rodolphus moved closer to her as the door shut behind him, and he looked over the visible scars on her shoulder, taking her by the arm and turning her around like a ragdoll so that he could get a better look. His grip was loose and easily broken but he had seen enough to grow further enraged, though where exactly to direct his anger was still to be determined. "Who did this to you?" he snarled, certain he would get nothing in the way of answers from his wife but having no one else in that moment to inquire with. "I'll rip their fucking head off."

Dorcas often went away for days or even weeks on end, and Rodolphus never bothered to question it. Where she went or what she was doing was her own business, though mostly he assumed she was working whenever she was away. There was always the consideration that she was off secretly aborting his baby, as she had admitted to doing in the past, but considering their current circumstances that was highly unlikely. Lately, Dorcas had been getting annoyed by things she once would have tore his clothes off for; boring family dinners, breakfast in the kitchen, Rodolphus reading the paper silently. She seemed to take offense to the mundane moments in their lives, and with the news that they were going to be parents twice over, it came as no surprise that she’d thrown herself into her work or whatever she was doing. He knew she’d come home as soon as she needed a good, hard pounding, so it was rather a shock when word got to him that Dorcas had been taken to St Mungo’s after collapsing in the Ministry Atrium.

“I will purchase this whole sodding hospital just to sack your incompetent arse if that healer isn’t standing in front of me in 30 fucking seconds!” Rodolphus’ tirade had not yet earned him the company of Dorcas’ healer, who was apparently in surgery with some other patient Roddy didn’t give a shit about, but he’d been directed to Dorcas’ room and that was at least a start. He pushed open the door just in time to be greeted by Dorcas’ Auror friend, Dorcas draped in a towel on the bed behind him. “What the fuck is this?” he growled at Dorcas, as though Dorian was not standing between them. She was covered in hideous scars that any healer worth his salt should have been able to heal by now. Rodolphus, unaware that the wounds had been werewolf inflicted, was appalled at the state of his wife.