Recent Posts

“Train your animals better,” Rodolphus said with a slight grin, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as a humored disapproval. The grin Dorcas was giving him made her whole face appear to light up. There was a little gleam in her eye as she looked at him, not the same sort of gleam that he would normally see if she were planning something perverse and taboo. This was a happy gleam and Rodolphus’ chest suddenly felt funny as he looked at her, as if he had just run two kilometers. There was no reason for it and he ignored it, covering up the strange sensation by smacking Dorcas’ bum hard and then letting her gently fall to the floor, making sure her feet touched the ground first before he fully released her.

Shooing the kittens off the pizza box, and ultimately having to pick the stubborn black and white one up and move it to the floor where it yawned and flexed its claws onto the rug, Rodolphus flipped open the lid to reveal a half-pineapple, half-proper pizza. It was an abomination he put up with simply because Dorcas was the best shag he’d had in his life, and keeping her around meant making sacrifices like letting a piece of pineapple occasionally touch one of his slices and then moaning about her classless taste in food until she either hopped on his lap and made it up to him or they found something else to do, though shagging was the primary way that they sated an impending argument. Rodolphus gave the little kitten a gentle head rub with his shoe as the other kitten clawed at his laces and managed to hook one claw in deep enough to pull his lace loose.

Rodolphus grabbed a slice of pizza and reclined easily into the couch. He took a bite and pulled the remaining slice away, letting the warm cheese stretch and then finally break off and dangle in the air. He hadn’t bothered to fetch them any plates and he didn’t find a need for them. Pizza was a finger food. Had they been eating a proper supper at the table, that would have been one thing, but a casual belated Valentine’s day tradition of pizza on the couch and falling asleep while Dorcas insisted on watching that damned muggle contraption didn’t call for dishes and cutlery. Maybe a bottle of beer. Dorcas would of course want a hot cocoa before long. It would be an easy night tonight, and Rodolphus pulled Dorcas down onto the couch beside him as he used one foot to slide of the opposite shoe, then the next, and let the kittens chew on the laces as he leaned back into the cushion and got comfortable.

How severely fucked was Lucius at this moment? Quite. So much so that Rodolphus had been summoned to vouch for the man before the sun had even broke over the horizon. Rodolphus had to slip out of Dorcas’ house under the cover of night, but she had woken anyway and caught him leaving. She’d caught him in other ways this morning as well, and the strange, albeit short, interaction he had had with Dorcas on his way out to meet the Dark Lord did not help to improve his mood when he had heard of Lucius’ supposed betrayal. Her words forced questions into his head as he apparated to the secluded place he had been called to, but he had had to push those questions and all thoughts of Dorcas aside the moment his feet touched the porch of the old Victorian where Voldemort held their meetings. Keeping a clear mind was the only thing saving Rodolphus from ending up as Lucius was now, or worse.

The sounds of Lucius’ pain would have been humorous to Rodolphus had they come from almost anyone else. The whimpering undertones as he bemoaned his tale, the thudding of his head on the wood of the high-backed chair, the whining pleas for Rodolphus’ assistance. He and Lucius were long-time friends, and the man had married his sister-in-law, so they were something of family now. The problems the Malfoys were having with conceiving a child were kept quiet, aside from a few close family members, but nothing seemed to slip past the notice of Lord Voldemort who was concerned that Lucius’ failings as a man were in anyway connected to the unsettling rumors that Lucius was somehow connected with Albus Dumbledore. As if Lucius had been seeking out a powerful wizard to help aide in his desire to be a father. It was ludicrous, or rather Rodolphus hoped as much, to think that Lucius or anyone of worth would view Dumbledore as more powerful than Lord Voldemort himself. Magical prowess, however, did not factor into rumors and that had better have been all this was because if it turned out to be the truth then anyone connected with Lucius would be in trouble, not just Lucius.

The blond man played dumb, pretending he had been set up by someone wishing to retaliate against him but for what? What offense could Lucius have made against someone close enough to Lord Voldemort that the retribution would be a rumor and not instant death? It didn’t add up but there was too much between he and Lucius for Rodolphus to simply disregard the man’s supposed theory altogether, but there was plenty of doubt. “And you play no part in this at all, Lucius? I find it hard to believe that this is all just some game to one of your enemies.” The repeated banging of Lucius’ head against the chair was grating on his nerves and in one quick motion Rodolphus’ finely shaped ass had left the chair and his hand was wrapped around the throat of his lifelong friend. “Have you been cavorting with Dumbledore and his little army of muggle lovers?” Rodolphus’ voice was harsh and threatening. “If you’ve so much as daydreamed about joining that sodding Order I will gladly make Narcissa a widow right now.” His free hand moved to the back of Lucius’ chair and he tilted the seat back so that the front two legs of the chair lifted from the floor.

Valentine’s Day was supposedly the day for lovers but that always seemed like such a crock of dragon dung to Rodolphus. Really, the day was designed for men to show off the hot piece of ass who had agreed to be seen with him on a regular basis, and for women to boast about how wealthy their man was by parading their jewelry and gifts about to their friends. It was completely superficial and at least that part Rodolphus understood. He knew what it meant to keep up appearances and it was that reason alone that he had always showered his girlfriends with gifts and taken them out to lavish dinners only a Lestrange could afford at the age of 15. He continued to put on the show with Bellatrix once their engagement was officially announced and of course after they were properly married. Rod pulled out all the stops because there wasn’t any reason not to, and he always appeared the doting husband to the public eye.

It wasn’t until Aurora turned three that he really began to care about the so-called holiday after she scribbled him a ‘love letter’ with her crayons and colorful pieces of parchment that she glued together. Public appearance didn’t mean nearly as much to the rather self-absorbed wizard as the look of glee on his daughter’s face when he presented her with a special gift that he chose specifically for her. At three he bought her a Pegasus with a little side carriage, so they could go riding together. When she turned four she received a playhouse for the back garden that was nearly the size of a small cottage, with a little kitchen where her house elf Mopsy could fix her tea for a tea party in the garden. This year, Aurora had been given a toy broomstick that was nearly identical to Rodolphus’ (which she constantly begged for a ride on), along with miniature quidditch robes with her daddy’s favorite team logo on the breast and her name written in glittery, swirled letters on the back. The holiday itself might have been superficial, but Rodolphus put in the extra effort for the princess he loved.

Over the many years it had not gone unnoticed by Rodolphus that his mistress became sulky come mid-February. He had always been rather preoccupied by his public relationships on the 14th and for the first few years after Dorcas graduated from Hogwarts, he had attempted to see her the day after Valentine’s Day owing to the fact that the respectable shagging that occurred the night before was not nearly as exciting as what Dorcas usually allowed him to get up to. It became apparent rather quickly that she had no interest in seeing him the day after Valentine’s Day and though she often did allow him to visit the day following, she was still rather sulky. In time they had created a little pattern, without even recognizing what they were doing – or perhaps Dorcas was well aware but Rodolphus simply acted on instinct and didn’t think much about it.

Stomping his feet on the porch to shake loose the snow he had trekked through from the point on the road where he had apparated, Rodolphus shifted the large pizza box he carried in his hand. He unlocked the front door and entered without a word. Normally he would call out something obscene as a warning that he had arrived but not today. Today he crossed into the lounge where Dorcas had clearly been camped for a few days and set the pizza down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He heard the refrigerator door shut and headed in toward the kitchen to see Dorcas standing in front of the freezer wearing pyjamas and looking as though she had actually showered today which was, admittedly, not the sight he was expecting to walk in on after so many years of this. It only took a few long strides for Rodolphus to cross the tiny kitchen and approach Dorcas from behind, running his right hand around her waist until his hand was pressed against her stomach, and his left hand pushed the freezer door closed. “I brought pizza,” he said, speaking softly into her ear as if he was whispering sweet nothings instead of announcing the arrival of food.

Dark thoughts raced through his head as he stood from the bed. Rodolphus worried that something was wrong, very wrong, if he was being called so late in the night. Or so early in the morning. It was that strange period of time where one did not often have to think whether the night had transitioned into morning because more everyone was asleep. Had he been awake at this time, in this cottage, any other day his thoughts would have been preoccupied with other things instead of worrying about the time and the implications the hour possessed.

There was movement in the bed behind him, he could hear her shifting on the mattress and tugging at the sheet. He assumed Dorcas was rolling over to return to sleep, but her voice spoke a little more clearly than it had just a moment ago and the words chilled him. For years Rodolphus had been able to conceal the tattoo that marked him as a faithful follower of Lord Voldemort. There was a time when such a mark would have been more mysterious to an onlooker but Rodolphus himself had thrown the Dark Mark into the sky more times than he bothered to count in order to mark his little victories over the status quo. If there was anyone left in Britain who didn’t know the symbol of Lord Voldemort they were not from the wizarding community and thus an enemy of the Dark Lord. “Go to sleep, Dorcas.”

Without a glance back at her on the bed, Rodolphus moved to the wardrobe where he had a few of his own items hanging. He pulled a pair of black jeans from the back, then a dark button-down shirt. He threw the shirt over the arm of a small chair in the room, and then stepped into the jeans, his back to Dorcas and his left arm held closer to his body. There was no obscuring the mark as he was being summoned. His concealment charms were useless against the Dark Lord’s magic but the moment Rodolphus crossed the wards into Lord Voldemort’s lair the burning would subside, and his charms would become effective once more. Fastening his trousers, Rodolphus reached for the shirt and pulled his arm through the first sleeve. The tattoo was visible again as Rodolphus reached behind him to pull the shirt over his back and slide his arm in the opposite sleeve.

Turning to face her, Rodolphus’ fingers did up the buttons of his shirt, starting from the bottom and working his way up. There was nothing to say to her and she hadn’t leapt out of the bed to try to tackle him and arrest him as she ought to have done, being an Auror. Rodolphus had gotten away with doing a variety of illegal activities in front of Dorcas but none so big as being linked to a revolutionary who murdered people in the name of his cause. Rod’s eyes met Dorcas’ for only a moment before he moved to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, rummaging around until he found a pair of his own socks. His trainers had been brought upstairs by Ader sometime while they slept, after having left them among the pile of clothes near the foot of the stairs the evening before. Rodolphus grabbed them and brought them with him as he sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded his socks.

Managing to free his marked arm from underneath the sleeping beauty, he heard her begin to stir. She thought Roddy was wanting another go with her and she didn’t seem up for it just yet. It wasn’t surprising, and this would hardly be the first time he had woken in the middle of the night to poke her a bit more before falling back to sleep. Just as he had when they were younger, he knew her rejections were not motivated by a lack of desire for him – or at least for his cock – and so should he want to have a little midnight rendezvous, all he needed to do was entice her a little more and she would quickly change her tune. This time, however, Rodolphus was not waking her for a fun time, in fact, he had been trying not to wake her at all. Dorcas did not sleep as soundly as Rodolphus often did.

Dorcas’ moonlit figure rolled over to face him; dark hair wild and unkempt. He could feel the gentle pressure of her hand on his hip and her breasts pressing against his hairy chest. She was barely awake but ready to give herself to him so long as he was quick about it. Quick was a relative term in this regard. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her curves were highlighted in the moonlight. Paired with the groggy voice she spoke with, it was all highly arousing and Rodolphus wanted nothing more than to ignore his summons and fuck Dorcas well and good for the next hour before falling back asleep. He could feel his body begin to respond to her but there wasn’t time. “I’m needed at work,” he explained, sliding himself out from under the blanket and the weight of her hand.

Lord Voldemort didn’t usually summon the Death Eaters in the middle of the night without warning. In fact, there were only a handful of times since he had joined the Dark Lord’s army that Rodolphus could ever remember the burning of his Dark Mark waking him from his sleep. The cover of night afforded them more secrecy, but it was not ideal for plotting to overthrow the wizarding government and slaughter millions of muggles and muggleborns in the process. A holocaust of this magnitude was not hobbled together after a late-night vision, there was careful planning involved and as such this spontaneous summons put Roddy off his nerves. Clearly there was trouble, but who was at fault was yet to be seen. Had Rodolphus miss-stepped? Was Bellatrix in trouble? Perhaps someone had failed in their mission and Rodolphus was being called in at the eleventh hour to finish the job. He couldn’t know until he had arrived in the presence of Lord Voldemort, and Rodolphus was unsure of whether he hoped to be the only one called at this unreasonable hour or for the entire brood to be standing in the ballroom of the old Victorian style home.