Recent Posts

Having their laundry thrown into the wash together was something Rodolphus regularly ordered of Ader, whenever the house elf had the opportunity to enter Dorcas’ home, as it saved time and there were other things the elf could be getting on with. Rodolphus viewed it as a little treat for his mistress’ clothes, too. Cheaply made and worn hard, Dorcas’ wardrobe, while attractive for the most part, was neither expensive nor well cared for. At least, it wasn’t to Rodolphus’ standards. That was why Ader always grabbed whatever else Dorcas had lying around in addition to what Rodolphus had torn off her that day, and used the best detergent on the market, along with fabric softener and elven magic to make her clothes look like new again. And Roddy was fairly certain the only people who ever actually put Dorcas’ clothes in the wardrobe or dresser were Ader or her mother, Emily.

As instructed, Ader always kept out of sight of the petite bombshell. Knowing that Dorcas did not like the idea of having servants, Rodolphus knew not to press his luck by having his house elf serve her directly because Dorcas’ stubbornness was possibly bigger than her ego and there were some fights simply not worth having. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, love.” He was being purposely cheeky as he let his free hand wander over her wet body and took a sip of his beer which he held in the other hand. He only outwardly admitted to summoning his house elf if he wanted to rile her up, and in those situations, it was more of a threat than a notification. Generally, he and Dorcas got on well, mostly because they talked very little and there were certain subjects that were never broached at all. It was well known between the pair that they did not share each other’s world views. She did not know the extent to which Rodolphus was an activist for his beliefs, but she knew what he stood for. Rodolphus rightfully believed that wizards should not be shunted to the side in order for the unimpressive mugglekind to walk about freely in the world. Dorcas naively believed that muggles were somehow better than wizards or something like that. She hung about with muggleborns and she was by far the biggest muggle lover he encountered regularly but there was more to their bizarre relationship than politics and Rodolphus found it surprisingly simple to avoid such topics and remain in a good mood despite her pauper-like status.

Initially it was all about the sex with them. Mind boggling fucking fantastic bloody sex. Dorcas hadn’t fooled anyone except herself in the first year of their ‘relationship’ when she pretended to hate the things they got up to. She might have hated Rodolphus himself, in fact he was damn certain that she had back then, but she loved the sex and the way he made her body tingle and ache in all the right ways. The sort of stuff they got up to back then was humdrum compared to now, but Rodolphus wasn’t going to risk his reputation by roughing up a woman in bed when she didn’t ask for it, and even though he had always been a little rough with Dorcas – owing to their first encounter in the Slytherin quidditch team’s locker room being a sexually charged form of punishment for her distracted playing on the pitch – he hadn’t pushed it as far as he had wanted. He had remained in control with every pretty witch he bedded, but as time went by he found Dorcas more and more willing to go a little further. He pushed her, and she loved it. To this day there was no one left alive after an encounter like that, that Rodolphus could fully let loose with as he wanted aside from Dorcas. She was special to him and what laid between her legs wasn’t the only reason why.

For all the world there was an impression of the Lestranges that Rodolphus had to keep up. He was a gentleman, well educated, a brilliant man. It wasn’t a difficult role to play as it truly did come natural with all his breeding but bloody hell it could be boring. Dorcas was never boring, and he could have a little more fun around her than he could with anyone else. He knew he could make vulgar jokes with her at the beginning because she was so ashamed of herself for letting him touch her that she would never risk others finding out about them just to tell the world he was really rather quite a sod. He caught her attempts to hide a smile when he said something perverted and after a while she didn’t bother hiding them anymore. She played back with him, fed into his humor while teasingly trying to smash his massive ego – something that simply couldn’t be accomplished. She was fun and comfortable, and Gods have mercy she was fucking attractive, especially now as she back into him, wet and soapy.

She was short enough for Rodolphus to rest his chin on her head, should he want to, but that was not the best use of the remainder of the hot water. Setting his beer on the shelf, which was growing warm in the sauna-like shower anyway, Rodolphus ran his now free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. With his opposite hand he pushed her forward, pressing her against the opposite wall of the shower stall before pushing himself against her. Water ran down Dorcas’ back and over Rodolphus’ chest as he thrusted, using his feet against the corners of the floor to brace himself and keep them both from toppling over. Whatever filth she had managed to wash away in that shower, Rodolphus had replaced with a different sort of dirty and before long the warm water turned chilly.

Having satisfied himself, and more importantly having thoroughly satisfied the little vixen showering with him, Rodolphus stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She had drained him, physically and otherwise, and Rodolphus was looking forward to resting his eyes and allowing Dorcas to play with either or herself or him if she felt so inclined, but to do so in his arms. Having dried himself off and whipped Dorcas in the bum with his rolled-up towel, Rodolphus headed to the bed and the plush mattress he had paid for after he accidentally broke her last bed and apologized with a completely new bedroom set and another bout of rowdy sex.

The shower generally did very little to actually clean either Rodolphus or Dorcas up after their adventures together. Unless they had plans and needed to be quick about things, which wasn’t all too often as they weren’t a couple that could just walk about in the public eye without drawing suspicions and a few tabloid paparazzi, any time spent in each other’s company without clothes on simply lead to sex. And more often than not, any time spent in each other’s company with clothes on lead to clothes coming off which then lead to sex. It was not uncommon for Rodolphus to brace himself against the wall of her tiny stall shower with Dorcas wrapped around him in some fashion or another until the water ran cold.

Her absence against him left a chill as she rose from their awkward position on the stairs and wiggled her sexy little arse on the way to the kitchen. His hand trailed after her until she was out of reach but he called out his protest of her foolish plans. “I enjoy the smell of your cunt on me,” he grinned, lifting his head to watch her walk away, each round cheek of her plump arse lifting and falling with every step. “Why would I want to shower?” Had he been in a more comfortable position he would have simply relaxed as he was and let her worry about cleaning herself up (only for him to defile her once more when she was done) but the edge of a step was pressing into his back and the carpet on several of the steps was soaked with beer and cider which was not a pleasant scent.

He took a few steps down to the bottom of the stairs where their clothes had been tossed aside, and grabbed Dorcas’ shirt at the same time as he found his trousers. Digging his wand from his pocket, he flicked it in the direction of her bedroom and the en suite bathroom. The sound of running water reached his ears as he stretched. He dropped his trousers on the floor, though kept his wand in hand, and then looked over the writing on Dorcas’ shirt. ‘Cute and going to hell’ it read. Rodolphus chuckled as he raised his eyebrows and lilted his head to the side in agreement. “Accurate.” He dropped the shirt in the pile of clothes at the foot of the stairs and gave the whole pile a shove off to the side with his foot. He would need to have Ader come over for the spilled beer anyway, the house elf could do a wash and tidy up the rest of the cottage while Rodolphus and Dorcas got up to their own things. The only thing Rodolphus grabbed besides his wand was the pair of knickers Dorcas had been wearing.

Rodolphus climbed the stairs, skipping the beer covered steps, and headed up to the master bedroom. The shower was running in the en suite and thin wisps of steam were starting to curl out over she shower stall door. Rodolphus set his wand and her panties on the bedside table on his side of the bed, intending to take them with him when he left, whenever that would be, and not wanting his elf to wash Dorcas’ smell off them.

Oh, Rodolphus had heard all about Lucius’ failings with the Dark Lord, from the horse’s mouth himself. Lord Voldemort was so dismayed with Rodolphus’ brother-in-law that he had summoned Rodolphus early in the morning to lay into the older man about how much of a disappointment Lucius had been. Instead of screwing his mistress in the morning as he had intended, Rodolphus was forced to endure an hour of lectures and threats, and the blame all fell squarely on the shoulders of the thin blond man who came shuffling into the parlor looking like death warmed over.

Rodolphus was halfway through with his screwdriver by the time his highness decided to finally grace him with his presence. He was sat in one of the leather backed armchairs facing the fireplace, and Rodolphus watched with a raised eyebrow as Lucius slinked into the room and flopped into the chair opposite him. Dramatics were a Malfoy trait, to be sure. “There’s orange juice in it, that makes it a breakfast drink. And after the morning I’ve had on your behalf a glass of straight vodka wouldn’t go amiss.”

He took another swallow of his drink as he stared at the man, not sure whether to pity him or be furious. He was in fact a mixture of both. Having been friends with Lucius for so many years he couldn’t help but think of how his life was crumbling but after speaking with Voldemort on the matter it, it almost seemed like Lucius was trying to sabotage himself. Of course, that self-sabotage would affect his sister-in-law and Rodolphus didn’t want to think on what Bellatrix would do if she found out how close Lucius’ actions had come to harming her sister, even simply in reputation.

Lucius tried to steer the conversation towards Rodolphus’ family, obviously aware of the arse kicking Rod had come here to deliver and trying to avoid it. Roddy wasn’t having any of his nonsense. “Don’t fucking change the subject, Lucius. You know why I’m here. He summoned me this morning. What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Rodolphus had heard the Dark Lord’s side of the events, and of course that was the only side that mattered but still Roddy wanted to hear it from Lucius himself. How on earth had he possibly fucked this up so royally? He had put both their families at risk with his antics and Lucius was damned well going to answer his questions if he wanted any support from his old friend, or to have Rodolphus leave without having committed yet another murder which Lucius knew first hand the man was capable of doing.

Lucius had been a friend since the boys were both very young. Their parents attended the same social circles and though Rodolphus was a few years older, they still got on well enough as children. Being older and a bit of a prat as a kid, Rodolphus would often convince Lucius to take part in dangerous activities that could have gotten them both seriously injured. They were both lucky to have made it to adulthood with all the crap Rodolphus had encouraged; jumping from the manor rooftop with a toy broomstick, sword fighting wit Adolph’s antique rapier swords that hung as décor above the fireplace in the ballroom, using each other as targets for archery in the gardens. It was all rather stupid on their parts but they were children and it wasn’t as if they were only stupid in ways that could have maimed or killed themselves. Rodolphus also enjoyed prodding Lucius into mischief that harmed others such as the time they tripped the nanny as she was nearing the top of the stairs and watched her tumble to her demise. Or the time they stole jewels from other wealthy socialites during a party and claimed to have seen the servants doing it, just to see them cry when they were sacked or carted off by the MLE. Yes, the pair had quite a history but as adults they were both making their own mark on the world, separate from one another, and Lucius was not making a very good go of it.

Without a moments hesitation or consideration of good manners, Rodolphus pushed open the heavy door to Malfoy Manor as he had done hundreds of times before. The pair often let themselves into each other’s homes, much the to dismay of their wives who liked to look presentable for company; vanity thy name is Black. Admittedly, Narcissa was aesthetically much more of Rodolphus’ type than her sister Bellatrix. He preferred petite blonde, and his tall, dark haired wife certainly did not fit that bill. However, all of the Black women were stunningly attractive, even the bloodtraitor who looked remarkably like Bella. What his wife lacked in golden colored hair she made up for in psychosis, which really made her much more compatible than Narcissa would have been, had that ever been an option.

His footsteps echoed as he crossed the foyer and made a beeline for the parlor. A house elf appeared and scurried along behind him, welcoming him. Rodolphus ignored the creature’s greetings and instead barked “get that prat out of bed.” The insult was used affectionately, as often was the case with Rodolphus and his friends. He fixed himself a Screwdriver at the bar as he waited for Lucius to stop sulking and get his scrawny arse out of bed.

Rising from the bed, Rodolphus’ large hand trailed lightly across Bellatrix’ stomach and around her waist as he moved, allowing her a clear sight to the blubbering blonde tied to the bed. He smiled darkly at Catelyn from over his wife’s shoulder then dipped his head and pressed his lips to the soft skin of Bella’s neck. One hand around her waist, the other pulling her dark curls off her shoulder, Rodolphus kissed his wife tenderly and waited for the show he knew was coming.

Rodolphus was skilled with the Killing Curse. A single shot, quick and discrete – except for the glowing green light that filled the air around them – and Rodolphus’ job was done. But the Killing Curse was a tool. He used it when he needed to get the job done. It did not satisfy the lust for blood and when he had the time, Rod preferred to have a bit more fun, even if the Killing Curse was to be the end of it all. The other Unforgivable Curses, the Imperius Curse and the Cruciatus Curse, those were more flexible; they had the ability to be both tools and toys. Bella did so love her toys and Roddy enjoyed watching her play.

Pale limbs writhed on the bed, pulling against the binds which caused deep red and purple marks to form. If your back was turned or your eyes were shut, you’d hear nothing but frantic rustling of sheets. Catelyn was silent as she was being tortured, though not for lack of trying. Watching her, Rodolphus’ eyes seemed to light up. She was so horrifically beautiful as her face contorted in silent anguish, tears pouring down her cheeks and an inaudible scream forming around her lips but never meeting the ear. It was superb and Rodolphus bit a little harder into his wife’s shoulder, pulling her against him, her back to his chest, as he admired Bellatrix’s handiwork.

The door gently pressed open and Rodolphus’ eyes lifted from his bottle of beer, the cocky smirk he had worn only a moment before now replaced with a cold, stoic look of sheer annoyance. Who the fuck was Fin playing host to that was wandering about at this time of night? He knew the younger Death Eater disliked house elves and there was no need for a servant to be up yet; Rodolphus’ own servants didn’t start preparing breakfast for another hour or so and that was for an entire family, not just Fin and his petite live-in girlfriend. But it wasn’t the black haired waif that stepped through the door, nor was it a servant.

Fiery red hair, inappropriately dressed, and seemingly not a care in the world; his little cousin Jovian sauntered into the kitchen as if she owned the place. She didn’t let on right away whether she had been purposely spying on the men or whether this was a serious case of unfortunate timing. All she said was ‘evening’ despite it being anything but, and then proceeded to flaunt her tight, teen aged body around Fin’s home in a sheer little number that would have excited Rodolphus had it been worn by someone other than a blood relation. Fin, however, was not related to her and clearly had no qualms about gawking at Rodolphus’ cousin in front of Rodolphus. He was either very brave or very stupid, and Roddy figured it was more the latter.

“Running a half-way house for wayward girls, are we Fin?” Rod asked as his eyes tracked Jovi’s movements across the kitchen. What had she heard? What was she playing at? Rodolphus’ mind instantly flashed to the pair of wizards having to kill her to keep her silent, but this was his cousin he was thinking about and that relation deserved at least a moment’s hesitation, did it not? He knew, being family, that she was raised well enough to have the same beliefs as Rodolphus, at least when it came to magical purity, he couldn’t say for sure on any other political opinions, rarely having a need to chat with her outside of family or social gatherings. They were too far apart in age to be the friendly sort of cousins that hung out on weekends getting high and making mischief. Jovi was still of that age but Rodolphus had grown up. His highs were more sophisticated now and his mischief much more deadly.

So, if Jovi had heard their conversation, the issue would not be with whether or not she agreed with the cause, but with the execution of their beliefs. Would she run off and tell her father what the men were up to, would it make it to Magical Law Enforcement officers? He did not think so, but he couldn’t be certain. Fin’s expression looked similar to what Rodolphus felt, but he kept a cool demeanor as he addressed his cousin. “Whose bed have you been sleeping in, little Rowle? Have I kept your plaything too long or are you having a witches night in with,” he turned to look at Fin with a slight question in his expression, “what’s your girlfriend’s name again? Donna?” Rodolphus knew the important shit; the surname and the blood status. Given names were a dime a dozen and unless Rodolphus had a need to remember them for business or even pleasure, he generally didn’t care. With what was left of the Parkinson family so low on the proverbial totem pole of wizarding’s high society, there really wasn’t much necessity in remembering the daughter’s name.