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The rise and fall of Dorcas’ chest was the only movement in the room for a long while. Rodolphus watched her, not considering that if anyone else walked in on this scene it would look utterly perverted and stalker-like; a tall man standing in the shadows of a woman’s bedroom watching her sleep. If he had considered it, he wouldn’t have cared but there wasn’t anyone to walk in on him. If he had left Dorcas to fend for herself instead of calling his family’s private healer she would be dead right now. Who would come by in the middle of the night to check in on her? No one. There was no one else to keep watch over her now, so Rodolphus took the task and stared at her, his mind racing with a thousand horrible what-ifs.

If she had died, how would he have felt about that? It was odd, the panic her lack of breathing had caused him. Did he have feelings for her beyond their physical affair? So many times he had casually thought of Dorcas as “the perfect wife” is she were more of this or less of that. The thoughts were meaningless and simply an affect of being content in the moment in which he had had those thoughts, but despite being able to reason such emotions away, he couldn’t explain the panic. He had killed before, this wouldn’t have been anything new for him. He had even killed women who looked remarkably like Dorcas; taking out his frustration of her extended absence on what he referred to as her doppelgangers. Hell, Rabastan had even found him a whore that looked remarkably like Dorcas as part of his stag night before his wedding to Bellatrix. She had survived longer than the other women that night but in the end she had spent her last hours in much the same manner as Dorcas just had. If she died, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. And yet it was.

A gentle rustle of the sheets shook him from his thoughts – thoughts he didn’t want to focus on at the moment but could think of nothing else. A hoarse voice passed between Dorcas’ lips as she lay in the bed and Rodolphus stepped closer to hear her. "I didn't want to be a mum. You should never have existed." What in the actual fuck was she on about?! “Who do you think you’re talking to, love?” he asked, his voice much gentler than it had been when he was speaking with Hanley. This was the tone he used on those nights when they didn’t shag, when they just ended up spending time in each other’s company and often right before Dorcas would fall asleep on him. It was the voice he used when he came ‘round after Valentine’s Day knowing she was in a piss poor mood and needed something other than a good, stiff pounding. There was an ounce of compassion in his voice but a barrelful in his chest, but there was also something else beginning to nag him as Dorcas’ words echoed in his head.

Caramel eyes tracked Evangeline’s gaze to see the Minister fast approaching. Rodolphus schooled his expression into one of pleasant surprise. “Minister Galanis, you are never an interruption.” Rodolphus took the Minister’s hand and brought it to his lips, keeping eye contact with the older woman. He allowed a moment for Evie to compliment the woman’s home – well aware that she too would have similar thoughts on Sybil’s estate; it reeked of new money. “You look gorgeous this evening. My father will be jealous he missed seeing you tonight.” Roddy gave her a mildly flirtatious smirk, nothing too straight on. He was schmoozing the woman, not coming on to her. She was closer to his mum’s age than his own, not to mention the Minister was rather homely. Had the woman even been available, Rodolphus wouldn’t stoop so low as to flirt with someone nearly double his age. Half his age, perhaps, but certainly not double. “I’ll be sure to let my parents know that you send your regards.”

Secretly Rodolphus wanted to take this opportunity among the riff-raff to dispose of the lesser beings. Galanis had done a nice job of rounding them up by offering up a chance to sneak a peek inside her home and eat a nicer meal than many of them ever would in their pathetic lifetimes. A quick glance around earlier afforded Rod the knowledge that there were plenty of his fellow Death Eaters among them tonight, and had they been given such an instruction it could have been a glorious bloodbath of all the muggle lovers and mudbloods but there were too many innocents here tonight. Too many purebloods that they couldn’t risk a brawl this evening but it wouldn’t stop Rodolphus from imagining it as he sucked up to the Minister and played the gentlemanly socialite. “I read that awful piece in the Daily Prophet about your memo. It’s a shame reporters can’t remain unbiased these days, or at the very least report on the actual scandal that is the leak inside the Ministry. They care more about their bottom line than reporting the news, which makes it all the more refreshing to see you reach out to the community like this. Complete transparency in the Ministry, Rodolphus turned and looked at Evie, giving a slight chuckle as he spoke, as if his statement was a laugh because of how true it was. “We certainly didn’t have it under the last Minister.”

The young vixen knew what she was doing as her fingers trailed over the collar of Rodolphus’ suit jacket. Her lips curled upward in a sexy little smirk. It was a shame he had to play the part of the noble gentleman for the public, or else he might have made Evangeline a tempting offer that would remove them from the party for at least a short while. As it were, Roddy was well aware of his surroundings and the mask he wore this evening was not one of black and silver meant to strike terror in the hearts and minds of muggle sympathizers across all of Britain, instead it was one of upstanding moral character and utterly refined tastes. He allowed Evie to play her little seductress act for a moment, but when it was dropped for something more natural, Rod didn’t mind.

“Bed by nine does sound inviting,” he retorted casually, leaving out the heavy innuendo in his tone that he would normally have used if they weren’t surrounded by the hordes of people who had come out to gawk at what they thought was a posh mansion and to suck up to a Minister that wouldn’t have paid them any mind unless they had money to fund her campaign. Despite his casual tone, his meaning was clear to anyone who had met the real Rodolphus, as Evie had. He would gladly warm her bed for the evening but there was socializing to be done first, and networking.

Sipping his champagne and letting his eyes travel first over Evangeline’s festive ensemble, her stunning legs on display, then over the sea of nameless faces that surrounded them. “I would have thought there would be more notable wizards in attendance,” he commented rather dismissively. “Not that you ministry folks aren’t notable, but are you really the target audience for this little ‘gala’?” His final word coming out in a lower tone, emphasizing it as if to show his disapproval for such an event. Parties were all well and good, Rodolphus had played host to a number of lavish affairs over the years, and he’d been in attendance at hundreds more, but the sort of party Rod and his kind fancied were a bit more highbrow than this, and exceedingly more restrictive on the guestlist. “Galanis certainly is the ‘Minister of the people’, is she not?” Roddy turned his attention back to the young witch. Who the fuck wanted to be ‘of the people’ when you could simply be better than everyone else?!

Bent over the bed, pulling back the sheets and clearly preparing for an uneventful night of slumber, Dorcas paused as Rodolphus entered the room. The smirk on her face made his cock stand at attention. She knew what was coming. There were times when they could play around a bit before, they would banter and playfully insult one another’s lifestyle. He would comment on her poor financial standing and she would effectively call him a spoiled prat. They would have dinner or drinks or something more closely resembling a date than a booty owl. There were times when they built up to it all and then there were other times. It was completely barbaric they way could go at each other with nothing more than a glance between them before they were ripping at each other’s clothes frantically, usually not even bothering to undress completely before he was inside of her. The slight curve of her plump lips said she knew tonight was the latter sort of encounter and there would be no refusal.

Recently, Dorcas had shown an interest in his tattoo; begging to see it properly in the light and then tracing it mindlessly as they sat together doing fuck all. It seemed to get her going and so he had left it visible tonight. He would give her that little thrill of being a naughty Auror screwing a known Death Eater and in return he would take her body and use it as he saw fit. In every position. All night long. The adrenaline coursing through his body made him feel invincible and there was no way either of them would be laying down to sleep anytime soon. When sleep did come, it would be out of pure exhaustion and that pleasant pain of being well and truly fucked.

His hands undid the zip of his leather jacket as he walked purposely toward her, letting the jacket fall to the floor. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to elbows, as he often wore them, but the black ink of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth was clear on his left forearm as he reached for her. One hand snaked around her waist, her tiny frame all too easy to pull against him, his other hand sliding up through her hair and gripping it tightly, slowly and forcefully bringing her head back and exposing her neck which Rodolphus nipped at rather roughly. A low, primal growl grew in his throat he bent lower, his mouth running over the smooth skin on her collarbone before tearing her shirt from the neck to just above her navel and taking her now-freed breast in his mouth, his teeth dragging over her flesh. Skilled with his hands in more ways than one, Rodolphus slipped his left into her pyjama trousers and his right began to unbuckle the belt of his own jeans. He used the heel of one foot to force the shoe off the other, his teeth now piercing Dorcas’ lower lip. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it. It wasn’t the slow seduction of a romance novel or the caring embrace of two lovers. It was unbridled passion and manic lust that drove Rodolphus to shed his clothes as quickly as possible without giving Dorcas even a second to think about anything else.

The divorce had been announced a few weeks ago and while the proceedings were far from being over, it should have been of no surprise to anyone that Rodolphus arrived at the gala without his wife. Somewhat more surprising, for those few who knew the real Rodolphus, was the fact that there was no gorgeous woman on his arm at all. Had he wanted a date for the affair, Rodolphus Lestrange would have had no trouble in procuring one. He was handsome, heir to the richest family in all of Britain, and once again single. Rod could have had his choice of any woman this evening, but what sort of image would he be portraying to the public to show up to a public affair with another woman on his arm less than a month after announcing the divorce from his wife? Roddy might have been a womanizing whore of a man behind closed doors, but to the rest of society he knew better than to let his true colors show.

The Minister’s home was quant. The new renovations showed she wasn’t having too difficult a time adjusting to the pay raise that came with leading the country, but it was evident from a nice stroll around the parts of the property that had been opened up to guests of the night’s events that enlargement charms were needed to properly host such a large gathering. It was almost adorable how hard Sybil tried but her money just wasn’t enough to bring her to the same level as the Lestranges. Her political power, however, was something that kept Roddy from making any backhanded compliments about the “coziness” of the Minister’s mansion. Ushers had escorted him to the back gardens where it appeared the guests who had already arrived were gathering, but of course Rodolphus wanted to have a bit of a snoop, snatching a glass of champagne from one of the trays being served and then strolling off to look around. His unescorted tour didn’t take long and before he knew it he was back in the garden, a fresh flute of champagne in his hand. The minister began to speak, and he politely turned to his attention to the older woman.

Her speech left something to be desired but then, Rodolphus supposed it did make her seem “of the people” which appeared to be what she was going for. Roddy didn’t have any interest in being a political figure for that exact reason; he was not “of the people” and he did not have any desire to pretend as such. It was trying enough to curb his naturally crude and cruel nature when in the public eye, but to have to pretend that he also understood the common wizard was simply too much to ask. Business suited him. In the boardroom he commanded attention, as his father had taught him, and he didn’t have to put up with anyone’s shit, yet he was revered if not loved. He would leave schmoozing the public to Sybil and let her deal with the unworthy masses. That was, after all, one of the reasons his family had given so generously to her campaign; she would be the mouthpiece for the movement the Lestranges and families like theirs were hoping for.

The Minister finished her welcoming address and Rodolphus’ attention turned now towards the crowds. His brother, Rabastan, and his fiancée were supposed to attending the event, but Roddy hadn’t seen them yet on his stroll around the property. He rather liked his future sister-in-law and not just because she gave good head. She was a smart match for his baby brother and hopefully their union would be slightly more amicable than Rod’s marriage had been. Arranged marriages were always a bit of a gamble but seeing as how he and Bella had been the best of friends when they were younger, it really was a shock to everyone, Rodolphus included, that the marriage was not salvageable.

No Rabastan as of yet, but Rodolphus did catch sight of any old friend – a term which was applied loosely in this case. Alvar Bellerose had had such promise, once upon a time, but he threw it all away when he marriage a muggleborn. It was of no surprise to Roddy to see Alvar sucking up to the Minister herself. He was always such a pathetic little snot, even when he ran around Hogwarts trying to impress Rodolphus and his gang of older boys. They let him follow along and pretend he was a part of the group but really he was as expendable as the next bloke, if not more. Rodolphus sipped his drink as his eyes traveled over the younger man, who’s nose couldn’t have been any browner if he was fully inside the Minister’s arse, and then Rodolphus spotted a more pleasant sight. She was young and attractive, and of course Rodolphus knew her to be of upstanding character, considering where they had first been introduced. Not to mention she was a pretty decent shag. “Miss Nott, it’s a pleasure to see you here.” Roddy tracked her gaze over to Alvar and then met her eye again. “How has the evening been treating you?”

The sky was black, little pinpricks of light making pictures in the sky which flanked a nearly full moon that shone down on the country road like a streetlight, helping to guide Rodolphus’ motorbike as he sped over hills and took the curves faster than he needed to. Rodolphus wanted the rush to keep going. It was the best one yet and it was in no small part to the fight he had had with Bellatrix prior to leaving on his mission. She had wanted Aurora to come home with her to her parents’ home while Rodolphus was off slaughtering the Minister for Magic’s advisor that just happened to have ties to Dumbledore’s silly little army of vigilantes. Rodolphus expressly refused and commanded his house elves lock Bellatrix off the property. Aurora, unbeknownst to Bella, was not even at the Lestrange Chateau. She was spending the night with her uncle Rabastan, where Bellatrix would not be able to get to her and where she could run about having fun while daddy was off working.

The Dark Lord had discovered another one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix – an idiotic name for an organization if there ever was one. Lana Tyrell was an older woman, heavy set with light brown curls and brilliant green eyes. Her voice had been husky but when she cried out there was a clear and definite high pitch wail that had bounced off the walls and reverberated around the room. She had lungs on her, that was for certain, but her screams would go unanswered as Rodolphus had placed a sound proofing charm on the woman’s home before setting to work. Clementine Nott, one of Lord Voldemort’s spies in the Ministry and a cute little thing that sauntered around the old Victorian manor after Death Eater meetings, had reported Tyrell was working to persuade the Minister to align with Dumbledore – the exact opposite direction Voldemort was planning to take things. After tonight, there would be no more Ms Tyrell getting in the way of things.

For hours Roddy tortured the witch for information about the Order’s plans, and simultaneously releasing all the anger he felt towards his soon-to-be ex-wife Bellatrix. Poor Lana got the brunt of Rodolphus’ marital rage and there was nearly ten years of it. He kept Lana conscious as he broke her, ripped her limbs from her body and even dug out her eyes. Every time she collapsed from the blood loss, he revived her. Finally, when she had nothing left to tell him, he cut out her tongue. The Dark Mark hung in the sky over number 9, Lovett Street, and Rodolphus disappeared into the night.

After such an exhilarating evening of murder, there was no way Roddy could just go to sleep. He needed his plaything, his mistress, to let out this manic energy on. Dorcas was almost always up for a good, hard shag and he was fairly certain she would still be awake when he arrived. It was late when the rumbling of his motorcycle finally faded into silence and the crickets in the fields around her house slowly began to chirp once more. He kicked the kickstand out and leaned the bike onto it, then unlatched the gate to her front garden and headed up the walk. The lights in the downstairs window were dark, but her bedroom was illuminated. Dorcas was still awake, unless she had fallen asleep over a book again.

Letting himself into her house, he moved easily through the dark cottage and found his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He had washed away the blood and sinew that had clung to him less than an hour ago. There was nothing about his physical appearance that would give away what he had been up to, but as he stepped into her bedroom and saw Dorcas preparing for bed, the look in Rodolphus’ eyes was enough to convict him of some sort of mayhem.

There had been yet another argument and it was clear that unless he quite literally strapped his wife to the bed and took what was belonged to him, Rodolphus would not be having the son he had been promised by his parents when they had arranged this marriage. “What’s the fucking point of you, then?” he screamed at her as Bellatrix threw an antique vase at his head. He managed to dodge the heavy porcelain and felt it whizzing past his ear before it met with the wall and splintered into a million pieces with an intense sound that was simply another piece to the tumultuous discussion the couple had been having for more than three hours now. It was the fourth time this week and Bella’s insistence that she would murder any ‘creature’ he forced into her belly was the final straw. There was nothing for him to do, aside from raping his wife and holding her captive in the dungeons for 9 months until she produced which was likely to be yet another daughter instead of his proper heir since Cygnus’ side of the Black family was cursed, and then he would have to ensure that she not kill the child at any point in its life simply out of spite. He did not put it past Bellatrix to murder their own child for her benefit. She loved Aurora but not enough to settle Rodolphus’ mind amid the repeated threats she made against their nonexistent future children.

What was the point of her, indeed.

The entire purpose of essentially selling off your child to another family was to produce offspring to carry on the family name and keep the bloodlines intact. Bellatrix was ensuring that wouldn’t be the case and Rodolphus was having none of it. Their marriage had been rocky, to say the least, since Aurora had been born. Rodolphus had expected a son and instead the healer had presented him with a daughter. The nearly six years that had passed since then were tumultuous and filled with repetitious fighting that always came back to the same conclusion; Bellatrix refused to have another child.

Recently, it seemed as though her mind was swayed in favor of all things Rodolphus. There was no clear reason for it that Roddy could see. He had done nothing to try to make amends, he continued his extramarital affairs, and berated his wife about a son on a weekly basis, and yet something had changed. She was making an effort for him. She surprised him on a small number of occasions with a lively evening of dinner and hunting; a game of cat and mouse only the psychotic couple would find romantic. Rodolphus was certain she had changed her mind. She clearly wanted to make their marriage work and Rodolphus had been explicitly clear that it would only work with a male heir, it didn’t matter how many daughters she bore him to finally get his son, but there would be another generation of Lestrange men to carry on Rod’s legacy and the family’s fortune.

Another shattered antique properly dashed any hope Rodolphus held that his wife had come to her senses.

The lounge was destroyed, as was their bedroom and most of the parlor. Mopsy had taken Aurora to play outside upon Bellatrix’s insistence. Bella knew Rodolphus well enough to know when there would be no end in sight to his violent rampage, and this was certainly the worst she’d seen from him before. Her feeble attempts to match him by throwing décor at his head would have been laughable had he been capable of any other emotion aside from murderous rage.

In the end, it was murder that sated him, though sadly it was not Bellatrix’s lifeless body he stood over less than thirty minutes later in an abandoned alley of a little coastal village. The corpse’s dark brown curls were soaked with blood, but the jaw hadn’t been right. She didn’t look enough like Bellatrix to soothe the monster inside of him. The second woman had helped, though. Rodolphus left them both, stepping over the body of the curly haired woman as he exited the alley and disappeared with a pop before anyone could spot him. He didn’t go home, however. Nor did he visit his mistress to relieve the final bit of anger that was still inside of him. Instead, he paid a visit to a man his father kept on retainer for any legal matters that may arise.

***

“Come along, princess. You can play with the aethonans later after daddy talks with Uncle Rabby.” Aurora was trying to convince Mopsy, her house elf, to put her on the winged horse’s back and Mopsy was having a terrible time of it, knowing Rodolphus had forbade the elf from letting Aurora ride without an adult wizard or witch accompanying her but being explicitly ordered by the adorable five year old. The elf was struggling to tell the little witch no and seemed relieved when Rodolphus called his daughter to his side.

A servant greeted them and at the door and welcomed the Lestranges inside. “Scotch, neat,” Roddy said in place of a greeting, quickly followed by “let my brother know I’ve come to talk to him, and that his niece wishes to see him, as well.” Roddy added the last part as a response to Aurora tugging on his trousers in order to avoid being forgotten. The little princess knew nothing of the matter with which Rodolphus had come to see his brother. She thought this was nothing more than a fun trip to visit her uncle, and that mummy was working again. Aurora had no idea that Rodolphus did not intend for his daughter to live with her mother any longer.