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Rarely had he failed to top food. Admittedly, there were some days it was a struggle and a smaller some where he didn’t even bother to try. Dorcas was crass and utterly unsophisticated, she was basically human rubbish and for whatever sodding reason it turned Rodolphus on beyond compare. He liked it when she played posh, the gala at the now-dead Minister’s house or the evening he took her to a Parisian restaurant (and had to pay to shut the whole sodding place down for the evening before Dorcas agreed to go in public with him), but it wasn’t necessary to drive him wild. Just an added bonus, due in part, he suspected, from the rarity of it. Bellatrix had almost been the opposite. Dressed like a proper lady was the only time he couldn’t keep his hands off his also now-dead wife but a fair bit of the time it was just because he was randy and she was nearby and willing. Bella hadn’t let him do even a quarter of the things Dorcas allowed, that might have had something to do with Rodolphus struggling to keep from pawing at Dorcas now as she sat on the bench and chewed her food like a goat chewing cud. “In about a burger and a half,” he answered her. “I’ve got their ‘safe house’ warded, so we’ll know immediately if they leave.” Emphasis on the words ‘safe house’, paired with a wiggle of his heavy brow, made it known what he thought of the Andersson’s attempts at hiding or more likely Dumbledore’s attempts at secreting them away. Pathetic.

After Dorcas had finished eating and he was certain she wouldn’t be bitching about being hungry in twenty minutes, Rodolphus explained their plan of attack. They would use the Floo Network to leave the premises and then apparate to a few locations, zig-zagging around so that their magic would be harder to trace. He paused and waited for her to make a comment about knowing how to throw off a trail, to remind him that she was an Auror, and perhaps even toss him a little insult meant to pique his excitement for later, then continued. The targets were just the Anderssons, and there was no reason to expect anyone else to be there, but they’d leave no witnesses, so Dorcas needed to be ready for anything. He assured her he had all the confidence in her and again paused, awaiting the eyeroll, the balking, and the insult. With a hand placed firmly on her buttocks, his grip tightening ever so slightly and an excited, smug look on his face, the pair left the chateau for a night they were sure to remember.

By the time they appeared on the pavement across the street from a series of shabby looking row houses, the sky had turned black and rain had begun to fall. Clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the light from the stars and the moon, Rodolphus dampening the streetlight above them, casting their cloaked, masked figures into darkness. Turning his head, he looked at the petite figure standing next to him. They had dueled enough that Rodolphus knew what to expect of tonight. He was certain she’d take her time with it, have a little fun with the evening. It wouldn’t be as quick as it had been with Jovi, though possibly not as drawn out as Bellatrix would have made it. A fair bit of both and some impressive wandwork, he was certain. Fierce but efficient. If she was of a proper stature she might have even been considered intimidating but at her five foot two inches she appeared to Roddy more like an angry kitten than a skilled killer; she could fuck you up for certain but was adorable to watch.

A light flicked on in a window on the first floor and the silhouetted figures of two people could be seen through the curtains. Perhaps the Anderssons were getting ready for bed. Roddy chuckled silently at the thought that they might burst in on the couple mid-shag and murder them in their bed without a stitch of clothing on. That’d make for a fun front page headline in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, though those wankers would probably go the modest route. He really ought to just acquire the Prophet as a subsidiary of Lestrange Industries but then the connection might be a little too apparent when the more favorable articles on the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort began rolling out more frequently. Besides, he was already in talks to acquire Pur Magazine as a wedding gift for his soon to be sister-in-law and while it would hardly be considered a monopoly to own two of the most popular wizarding media outlets, he didn’t really need the Prophet for anything other than greed. So perhaps he’d buy it after all.

Pressing his hand gently to her back, he signaled their move closer to the row house. They crossed the street under cover of darkness and Rodolphus drew his wand as they approached. Weakening the security wards around the building took only a few moments and he heard the lock click open on the door. “Fools should have used the Fidelius Charm,” he sneered from behind his mask. How many of Dumbledore’s little Order tits had they captured or killed, and yet the fool still hadn’t moved to more powerful security charms. Surely the headmaster of Hogwarts could complete such a complicated charm. Hell, Rodolphus had been working on it for years, since Aurora was born, in case they ever had need of hiding. After reading about it in one of his family’s ancient spellbooks, Rodolphus could see the value in such a powerful enchantment and began studying it in secret. Had the Anderssons had the foresight to learn of and use such ancient magic, they might have lived to see the sunrise, but as Rodolphus pushed the front door of the house open, sunrise was no longer in their future. "Ladies first," he growled from behind his mask, letting Dorcas slip into the entry hall first.

Sooner than she might have thought. Rodolphus’ instructions had been clear; ensure she passed the final test and then bring her to the Dark Lord. Barring some unforeseen chaos, Jovian would be returning home this night with a painful tattoo seared onto her forearm. Rodolphus had enjoyed the pain, though he knew of others who had not. In either case, the pain faded eventually and what was left was an image of devotion to Lord Voldemort and the conservative pureblooded values that would soon reclaim the land.

Green lightning shot from the tip of Jovi’s wand, sending the Dark Mark to hang over the sky as a warning sign to all: the Death Eaters were here. For those who stood against their righteous values, the Dark Mark symbolized fear and chaos. To those whose hearts, and blood lines, were pure, the serpent slithering forth from the skull’s gaping mouth symbolized another step closer to their freedom. The Dearborns were a large family, this would hardly be the last time this symbol of purity would hang over their home, and judging by the wild and proud glint in Jovian’s eye when she gazed down upon the professor’s still warm corpse, this wasn’t likely to be the last time Miss Rowle stepped foot on their property.

“Someone’s been practicing,” Rodolphus remarked affectionately, his eyes upturned to watch the snake coil in the clouds. “Let us see what the Dark Lord has to say about your impressive fete.” Roddy wrapped his arm loosely around his cousin’s waist, preparing to take her to a location which she had never traveled to before. Cloaked in security spells and powerful wards to keep away those who were uninvited, the only entrance Jovian could achieve at this moment was at the escort of a marked witch or wizard. Turning on his heel, Jovi by his side, the pair disapparated, leaving the crumbling wall of the kitchen open for the Dearborn family to see upon their arrival. If only Rodolphus could be there to witness their despair upon finding poor Tristan.

A wetness hung in the air as Roddy and Jovi appeared in front of an old Victorian mansion. The rain had stopped but only just, as the smell of wet grass was fresh and the muddles still rippled with the last of the raindrops. Dropping his hand from her waist, Rodolphus headed toward the house, keeping pace with the witch who followed so that his mark would act as her key as they crossed the threshold and stepped onto the property. The inside of the home was warm and inviting, a beautiful restoration of elegance and sophistication of a time gone by. Right. Left. Right again. The narrow corridor wound its way, leading Rodolphus and Jovi into a ballroom that could hold many more than would be here tonight. A select few masked Death Eaters had created a small semi-circle around a dais upon which a dark figure sat in a regal chair. No words of support were spoken to his cousin as he fell in line beside his father and knelt in admiration.

The moment devoid of any pretenses they had once held for each other, Rodolphus rested his hand on her shoulder, her blonde hair tickling his arm. Dorcas’ upper body rose and fell with his own breathing and Roddy enjoyed the moment, thoroughly spent but full of energy for the night’s events that still awaited them. He knew the evening, every bit of it, would be exhilarating. Watching his mistress murder those muggle-loving fools would give him quite the erection. Mayhem often did, it was why he so frequently arrived in the dead of night, unannounced, to Dorcas’ tiny hovel and took her without much more than a dangerous grin as a greeting. He would have her again tonight, and in the morning as well. Hell, if it all went as planned, then the only way Dorcas would be leaving his side would be chaffed and bruised, barely able to stand let alone walk. But he was getting ahead of himself.

Running his fingers over her tangled platinum hair, Rodolphus began to move. “I’ve a few things to get sorted before we leave,” he told her, sliding out from under her and getting to his feet. He looked down at her from his new position; disheveled, dirty, beautiful. He smiled. Turning for the en suite, Rodolphus gave further instructions. “Call cook and have him fix you something. You don’t want to go out on an empty stomach.” He looked at her as he reached the bathroom, prepared for a swift shower and then a meeting with the Dark Lord. “Not cereal.”

He left the door to the en suite ajar as he showered, washing quickly to remove the sweat and smell of Dorcas from his person, then stepped out and pulled a towel around his waist. “Shower’s all yours, love.” He knew if he had allowed Dorcas to slid under the falling water with him that they would be rushed later on, and Roddy wanted plenty of time to enjoy the mission. The whole process took barely three minutes and he was back in the bedroom, stepping into his wardrobe and pulling on a basic black button-down and a pair of dark slacks. When he emerged, he looked a respectable wizard, with a black cloak draped over his arm and a pair of gloves in his hands. A gothic prince, ready to capture the night, his mask nowhere to be seen. “Give me twenty minutes,” he told her as he moved to the bedroom door. “Thirty, tops. The Dark Lord does like to put on airs.” Disappearing into the hall, Dorcas was left alone to prepare for the test that lay ahead.

His right hand tightened around her throat, feeling the muscles beneath the skin flex as she failed to take a much needed breath. Her back was to him, he couldn’t see the panic look in her eye, if it was there, but he could feel her around him, excited. His grip was as threatening as it always was, but he’d taken more precaution since stopping her heart. Rodolphus was focused as his left hand snaked around her body, sliding gracefully from her navel to the bare flesh of her breast before trailing down her left arm. Such perfection unmarred by anything more permanent than the bluish-purple outline of his own hand. There were plans to change that. The shudder from her release signaled a job well done and Rodolphus pushed his mistress forward, letting her fall onto her hands, their connection broken only for a moment as he corrected his positioning, determined to follow her glorious example. Raking his nails down her back, he released a plethora of lewd compliments and swear words as he came. Rodolphus gave her plump bum a firm smack before falling from his knees onto his back beside her.

Her protests of never stepping foot into Lestrange Chateau again following the incident with Aurora were deemed baseless as Rodolphus laid on the floor of his bedroom, the sheets and blankets of his finely decorated bed scattered around them. His breathing was deep, and his chest rose and fell heavily from the exhaustion, but he tucked his right hand under his head in a content fashion as he stared at the ornate ceiling. Pulling Dorcas toward him with his left hand, he whispered additional compliments in her ear, none of which would be suitable for public use, before letting on the reason he had asked her over in the first place. “I’ve a present for you.” His rough voice was menacing at this volume but after eleven years of this affair, Dorcas had no need to worry. Since he’d last taken her life, Dorcas had murdered his wife, brought public attention to their secret affair, and made a friend of his six year old daughter, but had he wanted to kill her, Rodolphus would have done so long ago. He certainly wouldn’t have brought her name up willingly to the Dark Lord, nor recommended her for a mission to prove herself to the Death Eaters when a pair of names associated with the Order of the Phoenix had emerged. If he had wanted to keep her around just for sex, he could have done so without setting his reputation as Lord Voldemort’s faithful follower on the line for her. “In the wardrobe. Consider it an early birthday gift.” On the floor of his wardrobe Dorcas would find a white box wrapped with a black ribbon. Within that box, folded neatly with care, was a black cloak made to her measurements, a pair of black leather gloves, and an ornate silver mask designed specifically for the Auror.

As was often the case when children were entrenched in the world of adults, Aurora was completely oblivious to the glares being sent from Dorcas to her father, and the aggravated look on her father’s face as Aurora hugged his mistress and made plans for another so-called play date. The child was innocent in her ignorance as she waved goodbye and trotted off to her father’s side where she lifted her arms to be held. “I will bring Monkey doggy tomorrow and you can bring Puppy and Kitty. They’re hiding in your dresser. And you can show me your castle tomorrow, too! Bye Dorfus!” With her arms wrapped around her father’s neck, she nuzzled against the man, still oblivious to the tension in the room. “Daddy, you have to say goodbye,” she whispered, as Roddy made a motion to leave.

“See you around, love.” His expression softened only slightly, annoyance still evident on his face though his daughter cuddling against his neck made him look much less threatening. He turned on his heel and the pair disapparated. Less than a minute later a cracking sound could be heard downstairs as Ader has appeared and had already begun cleaning up the mess of wine and chocolate that had spilled in the sitting room. He had instructions to clean up the messes Aurora had made and to see to it that Dorcas’ pantry was properly stocked. It was Rodolphus’ means of apology which he already knew wouldn’t go over well, but it had never stopped him before.