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Aurora was sat on the floor with her dress spread out around her and her legs tucked under one side, just as her deportment tutor had taught her to do. She was busy pulling open the little box of crayons when Dorcas mentioned being on the quidditch team. Aurora’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she looked up at the woman who was now refusing to sit for their coloring session they’d clearly both agreed on. “You played with daddy?”

“Oi, what are you two on about?” Rodolphus’ voice broke through the room with a bit of noticeable concern at the partial conversation he’d just overheard between his daughter and his mistress. Surely Dorcas wasn’t telling the six-year-old of their affair, but it was an odd sentence to hear from his daughter’s mouth first thing in the morning. Mopsy had woken him and explained what had happened, including the part about Dorcas being practically naked in front of the unsuspecting child. It was enough to force him from his bed. He managed to tell Mopsy off for not protecting Aurora, as was her only job, as he pulled a pair of pyjama trousers on and headed out to find the mismatched pair of witches.

“Daddy!” Spilling the crayons all over the pink shag rug, Aurora leapt to her feet and ran full on into her daddy’s arms. Rodolphus knew to expect this, Aurora had been even more attached to him than usual since Bella’s death, and countered by bending down to meet her. The little girl’s arms wrapped instantly around his neck and his arms scooped her up under her bum as he returned to his full height, looking curiously over at Dorcas before his attention was pulled back to the mess of brunette curls chattering away at him, pressed against his bare chest. “Daddy, she plays quidditch!” she said excitedly of Dorcas. “She’s my friend. We are going to play. Can we play? I want to fly! Please, daddy!”

Rodolphus held the child in his arms, listening as she proclaimed Dorcas to be her friend, and stepped further into the room, nearing the blonde who stood there wearing only one of his button-downs. Shifting Aurora’s weight to one arm, he held out a pair of pyjama trousers to Dorcas. Mopsy had suggested giving Dorcas something of Bellatrix’s to wear but Rodolphus knew better than that. The witch would have went into a rage about being given his dead wife’s – whom she had murdered after being attacked – clothing to wear. Even if she had enough sense not to throw a fit about such a thing in front of Aurora, Dorcas most definitely would have lost it when the couple were in private. The pyjamas Rodolphus offered were his own, with a drawstring around the waist that she could tighten to keep them up, though the legs would have to be folded up as well, seeing as how Dorcas was barely taller than Aurora. Rodolphus smirked at that thought but turned his attention back to his little girl who was asking to play quidditch. “We can play later, love, after Dorcas goes home.”

“But I don’t want to play after! I want to play now! I want to play with my friend!” Aurora’s face contorted into a manipulative pout; her lower lip quivering and her dark brows furrowed pathetically. She twisted in her father’s arms to look at the witch, her new friend. “Tell daddy.”

Making note of her hidden pocket, so as to ensure he didn’t break her wand when he ripped that tiny skirt off her in a few moments, Rodolphus smirked as the music began to fill the room. He hadn’t really expected Dorcas to be so accommodating of his request, though he was quite used to getting whatever he wanted on his birthday. His thick brows raised, and his caramel eyes twinkled as he watched Dorcas run her hands over her scantily clad body, moving close enough in sync with the music that it wasn’t too terribly noticeable that she couldn’t dance. She could have turned around and bent over, wiggled her arse in his face and he would have been pleased as punch at such a performance but Dorcas, to her exceedingly warranted credit, put forth a little more effort into seducing him tonight.

Before long, Dorcas’ skirt was in shreds – Rodolphus having quite literally torn it off her. The blanket and sheets had been pulled from the bed and strewn about the bedroom. Furniture had gone sideways. A lamp had been broken. And that was only the bedroom.

A moment to catch their breaths turned into a snack break as Rodolphus ate fresh sushi off Dorcas’ naked body in the dinning room. In the kitchen, the chef prepared another tray to levitate in to them, no doubt uncomfortable but unsurprised by his master’s willingness to order him about while standing in nothing but his birthday suit and rummaging through the drawers of the kitchen looking for “a proper paddle” to use on his companion who was waiting in the other room. Rodolphus left with a spatula and kitchen twine, returning to his play mate with a wide grin.

Heavy snores broke the morning silence as Rodolphus lay sprawled out on his large bed, his face buried in a pillow and one arm draped over Dorcas’ naked figure beside him. His birthday had been most enjoyable and despite not drinking as much as he normally would, he was completely dead to the world as the sun crept through the break in the curtains. Dorcas had well and truly worn him out.

Small talk soon turned to deeper conversation as the meal progressed, and soon enough Minister Galanis had not so slyly turned the conversation toward politics, as expected. She had a reason all mapped out for the memo debacle and instead of addressing the contents of the leaked government memo, she focused her attention on the leaking itself and how appalling it was that there were moles in the Ministry of Magic. Rodolphus had already heard this line before and was growing weary of faking his interest in the subject and in the evening itself. His gaze continued to flick down the table, hesitating each time on Dorcas as she laughed with her gentleman friend, the reporter, and the pair on the other side of the table. When Dorcas stood and excused herself from the table, it quickly caught Rod’s eye. He had had enough of this night and of seeing Dorcas flirt with that Auror right in front of him as if she hadn’t just confessed to aborting Rodolphus’ child. He was annoyed, possibly angry, and definitely something else that he wouldn’t confess to feeling. He had had enough of this pathetic excuse for a gala.

Leaning over toward his brother and speaking in a low volume, Rodolphus explained his next actions. “Sorry to ditch you, brother, but I simply cannot stand another minute with this woman. If I don’t leave now, we might be in need of another Minister shortly.” His eyes flashed something dark at the casual threat of murder, though in honesty it was not Minister Galanis alone that caused Rodolphus to want to strangle someone with his bare hands. “Make up some excuse about Aurora for me. I’ll owe you one.” Rodolphus next excused himself from the table as the Minister was engaged in conversation with Rod’s old school mate, Nicolas Bellerose, and couldn’t make a fuss about him leaving without being rude.

He was a few moments behind her but had followed Dorcas out of the ballroom and into a more deserted area of the cheaply decorated manor. He watched her silently for a while, stalking her like a predator in the night, having not yet decided whether he wanted to hurt her or shag her. He couldn’t very well do both without drawing someone’s attention, and the last time he released all of his aggression onto the petite brunette he had managed to stop her heart for a few minutes. Minutes that felt like hours that felt like complete terror. No, he wouldn’t be going that far here tonight, but as the gap between Rodolphus and Dorcas closed, he had decided there was no stopping now.

It was reminiscent of their earlier rendezvous when their younger selves would sneak into deserted classrooms and store cupboards at Hogwarts. She pretended to loathe him – no, she truly did loathe him then, but she pretended to loathe how he made her feel when they were together – and he would take pleasure in catching her off-guard, making her uncomfortable thinking someone might spy them together and her shameful secret would be out. As adults, their secrets were far darker than teenagers could have imagined, and she had already shown the skeleton in her closet to him. There was nothing but the rest of society to hide from now as Rodolphus stood several long strides to catch up to her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into the nearest room which happened to be a toilet.

“You are fucking stunning,” he complimented, as he pushed the door shut behind him. He looked over her appreciatively and hungrily, his eyes telling a very vivid tale of just how much he was enjoying looking at her. He didn’t leave her much time to speak as Rodolphus grabbed her again and pulled her against his muscular frame. He breathed heavily as he looked down at her, gathering the skirt of her dress in his hands and finally finding the hem where he slid his hand onto her bare arse and grabbed it firmly. “Has your date had a taste yet, or am I ruining the evening for him?” Rodolphus didn’t care and he didn’t wait for a response as he picked Dorcas up by her firm, plump bum and set her on the sink counter, burying himself under the layers of flowery fabric that made up her gown.

A hunger like he had rarely experienced was hard to satiate at such a public event without raising suspicions, but Roddy made due with the time he was afforded. His brother and friends had assumed he had gone home for the night, but he had been sitting too far away from where Dorcas and her Auror date were seated to know what excuse she had given them for leaving the table. He wouldn’t have much time before her absence potentially drew their attention, but he made the most of the time they had in the small loo and even left Dorcas with a lovely purple mark on her inner thigh before pulling up the zipper on his trousers and running his hand through his hair. He was gentler and kinder than he wanted to be with her, but no good would come from making her cry out in pain at the Minister’s home in front of so many people. Instead, he settled for getting himself off and leaving a fresh mark on her so that Agent Humbert knew she belonged to someone else. The pair exchanged a few quick words and then Roddy left, not bothering to ask her why she had left her date in the first place. Perhaps he really would spend a bit of time with his daughter when he arrived home, though she was likely to be in bed when he arrived. At least Bellatrix had had sense enough to bring Rodolphus’ child to term, unlike the witch he had just left in the bathroom cleaning herself of his excitement before she whored herself out to another bloke.

Every year there was a new extravagance added to the celebration that marked his birth. The miracle child, the son they had longed for, for so many years, finally welcomed into the world was a cause for celebration and the Lestranges always went all out. Ceres was insistent that they celebrate on Rodolphus’ actual birthday, and that he and his mates could have their own fun when the weekend came. Rodolphus laughed at her assertion that the work week somehow dictated his schedule. He was second in command of an international corporation; if he wanted to get high on a Wednesday night and paint the town red, he’d bloody well do it, but he agreed to her annual tradition of throwing him a party and inviting all their friends to fawn over her handsome son.

He spent most of the evening drinking and smoking, chatting up people, and dancing with his daughter. Since her mother’s death, Aurora had been attached to Rodolphus much more than usual. He supposed it was natural, and Ceres agreed. It had only been two months, hardly enough time for a child to properly grieve. Bellatrix’s death had been a shock to Rodolphus, but he could hardly say he was broken up about it. At one time Bella had been one of his closest friends, but she’d gone off the deep end over the last several years and the news of her death was more a relief than anything else. If only it had come at a better time. Rod’s divorce from Bella wasn’t yet finalized, and they were gearing up for what was sure to be a heated custody battle for their daughter. After hearing of Bellatrix’s death, Rodolphus wasn’t surprised in the slightest to have the MLE breathing down his throat.

His relationship, if you could call it that, with Dorcas had been discovered in the aftermath. She had been the one to kill Bella, in self-defense supposedly though Roddy liked to entertain the idea that Dorcas had been the one to call Bella for a meeting, being jealous over having had to share him with the regal witch for so long. He knew that idea was complete dragon dung, but he liked to taunt Dorcas about it anyway. His presence at Dorcas’ cottage was evident when the MLE came through and it wasn’t long before the officer sent to notify Rodolphus of his wife’s untimely death was asking questions about his relationship with the Auror who had slain her. They were just fucking, he told them honestly, and he had plans to continue doing so, after the dust settled and he was certain his name had been cleared. It wasn’t hard to prove his innocence, as he legitimately had nothing to do with Bella’s death, but whatever suspicions lingered were easily resolved with a bit of gold. Aurora’s grief, however, was no so easily assuaged and Rodolphus spent much of his time during the party escorting his little princess around with him, treating her as any other guest and going about his usual conversations and habits in her presence. He even allowed her a bit of wine, which she made a face at but ended drinking a bit more before soon after falling asleep. Rodolphus sent her up to her room at his parents’ manor with one of the servants to watch after her while he continued with his party.

It had been a fun night, despite having to be on good behavior for those in their social circle – in his parents’ social circle, really – who he kept up the respectable wizard act for. His mum had been right, despite his dickish attitude about it, and he had made plans to celebrate with his friends and his brother properly in just a few days’ time. He would not be required to limit his use of profanity or inappropriate remarks quite so much then. He was buzzed when he arrived at the chateau, nearly properly drunk if he had had a few more glasses of champagne but his tolerance was high and his father’s watchful eye always nearby limited his consumption at the party. It wasn’t all that late, and if he wanted he could still get drunk at his own home, though his first stop was to his bedroom and not to any of the well-placed bar carts around the luxurious mansion.

He barely noticed as Dorcas turned away in an attempt to escape being smothered by the forest of dark hair that covered his muscular chest. Dorcas’ playful words and the naughty smirk that accompanied them were enough to draw his attention. She did like to use her teeth. She wasn’t afraid to inflict a little pain every now and then, in fact, Rodolphus had a permanent scar on his ribs thanks to Dorcas’ playful streak, but more often than not he was the one doling out the punishments for the perceived crime of being too fucking irresistible. He made her pay for other slights as well, though he didn’t always say as much. After having recently discovered that Dorcas had aborted his child in secret some years ago, he’d taken to pushing her a little farther, making her scream a little louder, and in general forcing her to work harder to keep back those beautiful tears that would inevitably stream from her eyes as he finally, blissfully broke her. He punished himself for the event privately, and not in nearly as fun a manner as he did with his mistress. Looking at a picture of his daughter Aurora often made him wonder what his son would have looked like, because although the fetus was aborted long before its sex was known, Rodolphus had since convinced himself that it would have been a boy. His heir, albeit a bastard. His thoughts were his own punishment and he much preferred the torture he put Dorcas through, though she possibly hadn’t even noticed much of a difference in his touch. After passing a certain threshold, all pain feels the same and it’s only the ecstasy that sets each moment apart from the rest.

The tea towel which was still twisted around her wrist like a makeshift handcuff trailed lightly over his stomach as Dorcas stroked the tattoo on his left forearm. He inhaled, bringing in his stomach as the fabric gently tickled him. He raised an eyebrow at her words and turned his head to look at her face as she looked up at him. No matter how well things had gone since inadvertently revealing his loyalty to the Dark Lord, Rodolphus was not prepared for the words that fell from Dorcas’ lips now. It had opened them up for a few more honest conversations, much of which had surprised Roddy, though thinking back on it he wasn’t sure his shock had been warranted. The Meadoweses were known muggle lovers, but Dorcas had never been outspoken on the matter as far as Rodolphus was aware. She kept her beliefs private and it was only her parent’s viewpoints that Rodolphus, among so many others in his social circle, had judged Dorcas on and since spying his Dark Mark upon being summoned in the middle of the night, Dorcas had apparently felt comfortable enough to open up to him. Her views clearly contradicted that of her parents, but he supposed he could see why she would stay mum on the subject for so long. It would have been difficult for her to speak out against her parents, and as Roddy knew for an absolute fact that Emily Meadowes was still doing the shopping and sometimes even cooking for Dorcas (who was basically helpless on her own), he could see why keeping private her true beliefs would have been a necessity. Rod doubted Emily would be as accommodating if her daughter was as vocal about her hatred for muggleborns as she really was. She saved that for Rodolphus’ company, and it didn’t bother him to hear her speak of her work life before or after they’d shagged. Sometimes it was like foreplay and he took the opportunity to imagine how incredible Dorcas would be at his side, slaughtering unsuspecting mudbloods in the dead of night. It was a literal fantasy of his, although she was always blonde in these fantasies, but he couldn’t be faulted for picturing that. The few occasions she had gone blonde were the closest Rodolphus had ever been to admitting she might have been the perfect witch.

His expression darkened before his face disappeared, nuzzled into the mess of her long brown hair. She smelled of sweat and dirt, a glorious combination that made him smile against her ear as he whispered. “Do you really expect me to tell that to an Auror?”