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An honest living was nothing if it didn’t make you wealthy beyond measure, but Quinn was doing alright – mostly due to his family’s fortune more than any real work of his own, but not everyone had the work ethic of a Lestrange. Besides, Rod knew Quinn and Dorcas had some sort of deal struck where Quinn’s ego wouldn’t be bruised if the evening wasn’t a resounding success, and he’d go on letting his best mate think that that granted him the title of “honest living”. Quinn remarked childishly about the Lestrange’s timeliness and while Roddy really wanted to give his friend an explicit blow by blow, as it were, of exactly why they were tardy, they were in mixed company tonight and Roddy had his game face on. “You know how it is with the womenfolk, always primping and preening until the very last minute.” He turned a charming gaze on Quinn’s girl, who seemed rather put out that she wasn’t formally recognized. Such a little attention whore. Quinn certainly had his hands full with this one, and judging by the strain of her dress bodice, they were two large handfuls. “You look enchanting this evening, Lyra.” If she weren’t Quinn’s girl, he’d have given a more serious thought to having a go at her in the back of the gallery somewhere, but he was being a gentleman tonight. Dorcas bellowed obnoxiously from across the room, drawing Roddy’s eye. At least one of them needed to play as though they had manners.

Dorcas made a spectacle of herself, as was expected, and Roddy merely smirked, holding back a chuckle. His wife having swanned off into the gallery, Rod headed the opposite direction to peruse the paintings (some of which he’d already seen hanging around Quinn’s studio) and track down his mate to offer his congratulations. Rodolphus didn’t think much of his best friend’s career, but he was making a respectable name for himself and the man had obviously done something right in his life to have nabbed a fucking stunning celebrity like Lyra Burke. When he had first heard about Quinn’s bird, Rod joked that Quinn was hung like an abraxan – the only possible explanation for a starlet to be interested in a bloke like Quinn, and after this long, Rod was ready to believe it. He spotted the happy couple canoodling not far away and made his way to them. “Hey mate.” He clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Nice little turn out you’ve got here.” Rod wasn’t generally impressed with much, and tonight wasn’t an exception, but the night was young and perhaps this stuffy little soiree could lead them somewhere fun later on.

His best mate was having himself a little rummage sale this evening, selling off his paintings and hoping to make a living off the profits. Rodolphus liked Quinn’s work but he couldn’t see ‘artist’ as being a very lucrative profession, though being a Blackwood, Quinn didn’t really need to worry about making much money tonight. He ought to have been more worried about his reputation and whether or not held a respectable position but Quinn’s family seemed nonchalant about their bohemian artist son and it made the chap happy. Roddy had assured his mate that his work would all be sold before the night was over and that, yes, Dorcas’ offer to purchase anything that didn’t sell with her newfound Lestrange fortune and somehow turn it into a Muggle charity in her husband’s name was exactly the sort of torment his wife would inflict upon him, so Quinn needn’t worry about his gallery night being a financial ruin. Of course, she couldn’t buy anything if they didn’t get there in the first place.

“Hurry the fuck along, Meadowes.” He pounded on the bathroom door to no reply. She had shut herself up in their en suite and was taking her sweet sodding time. Rodolphus had been dressed for more than an hour, a dashing vision in black. He only needed his wife on his arm and then he would be set, but the little trophy was being expectantly difficult. Dorcas claimed to be out soon but Rod knew better than to trust her, so he headed downstairs and fixed himself a drink in the parlor. He was sipping his scotch slowly in order to kill the time without ending up wasted and still one drink turned into two. He was just beginning to consider pouring himself a third glass when a blonde Dorcas appeared in the doorway, completely distracting him. He stared at her, empty glass in hand, a sly smile spreading. “Fuck, babe, you look fucking amazing.” There was no point in waiting a beat for her to pompously acknowledge his compliment, she thought the world of herself and in that moment Rodolphus would certainly agree that she was the hottest piece of tail this side of the Atlantic. He stooped to set the glass on an end table as he crossed the room to meet her. “Trying to seduce my best mate with this look?” he growled seductively, his fingers playing with a loose piece of blonde hair. Rodolphus scooped her up and threw her onto the leather sofa, concerns about their tardiness having gone completely out the window.

Red stickers marked several pieces that had already been sold off, and at first blush it appeared half the works were spoken for by the time the Lestranges arrived. Rodolphus had driven them in one of his sports cars, enjoying the breeze as the top was down while they whipped through the city streets faster than ought to be safe. Rod stroked Dorcas’ arse as they entered the gallery, instantly greeted by a waiter and a tray of champagne flutes.

“What’d I miss?” he asked Quinn and looking between him and the bartender. “You shoot your shot with this one, already?” Roddy thumbed toward the dark haired witch who was pouring his scotch and suddenly silent. She was hot but a little on the frail side for his liking. She looked as though she might break in half if Roddy had too much fun with her, but he’d just finished on another witch and his friend was now tucking into a steak all by his lonesome, so Rodolphus simply took his drink and left. Perhaps he’d hit on her a little later in the evening. “Witch turn you down, mate?”

Trelawney screamed as soon as their feet touched stone floor but Roddy simply released her and walked away, allowing Rabastan to deal with disarming her. He removed his sunglasses and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. They were in his dungeon, the silencing spell and other wards already in place around the perimeter. He enjoyed having company here, so close to home and yet so private. No one, aside from the Dark Lord himself, knew they were down here. Dorcas and Aurora were only a floor or two overhead and completely unaware of the goings on beneath their feet. Roddy would have liked to torture the Divination professor with his wife, marital bonding or some shit like that, but Lord Voldemort had instructed the brothers to handle it and to keep it quiet, and Rodolphus complied.

“Ah, let her scream,” he instructed his brother who was already complaining about her shrill tones. He looked at the woman directly and smiled as he stooped to pick up her discarded wand. “I like it when they scream. Go on, love. Let’s hear those pipes.” Sybil continued shrieking, begging someone, anyone to help her. Rodolphus’ smile grew wider and his hands moved back and forth as if he were conducting an orchestra, clearly enjoying himself. Without warning, Rodolphus slapped her hard across the face, knocking the witch to the ground with another pathetic wail. “I’m told you’ve got the sight, Sybil.” The witch’s eyes went wide at the realization that he knew her. This was not a random attack as she had feared, but something worse. “Give us a little fortune, then. Tell us what you know and we can be done with this all.”

Milky white skin stretched and bounced in front of him as Dorcas worked all the kinks out that he’d put into her. “Guess you fancy old cock, then.” He shook his dick at her from his position on the sofa. He was getting old, it was true. He was thirty already and he could feel the little creaks and cracks people spoke of that he’d always assumed were just exaggerations from people who needed to take better care of themselves. He had always kept fit, but his 30th birthday had brought about an improved exercise regimen to ensure he remained in peak physical condition. Fucking women aside, Rodolphus had a lengthy workout daily and if he could manage an extra run in the evening hours, he would take full advantage. Rolling around with Dorcas would be his second workout today and counting.

Dorcas scurried off for her usual bowl of processed crap as Rodolphus allowed his head to lull to the back of the sofa. He heard her footsteps grow lighter as she moved toward the kitchen, but they returned with a more rushed sound and a shorter gait. “Daddy! Daddy!” Aurora came rushing into the room and missed seeing her father stark naked by only a millisecond as Rodolphus realized the footsteps belonged to the other witch in his life. He managed to grab a cushion from the sofa and cover his lap just as the dark curls appeared in the doorway. The enchantment that kept Aurora away whenever Rodolphus and Dorcas were in the midst of things had lifted now that Dorcas had left the room. Much like the muggle-repelling charm their alma mater employed to keep muggles from discovering the school, Roddy had cast a similar enchantment when Dorcas first moved to the chateau. “Mopsy said I have to go to bed but I don’t want to! Tell her I don’t have to do what she says. She’s not listening. She never listens.”

Rodolphus looked to the clock. It was past the seven year old’s bedtime by nearly an hour. “You need sleep if you want to keep that pretty face,” Rodolphus said matter-of-factly. “How will you attract a good husband if you’re all wrinkly and ugly like your Uncle Rabastan?” Aurora pulled a face. “Do you want me to tuck you in?” he asked.

Aurora nodded. “And I get three stories tonight,” she demanded, holding three fingers up to ensure her father understood.

“Three,” he nodded in agreement. “Run along and get your pyjamas on. I’ll be right behind you.” Aurora left, seemingly unshocked by her father’s lack of clothing or the disarray of the lounge. Rodolphus kept her innocent of a good many things but even a little princess was not immune completely to the lifestyle of a man like Rodolphus. His shirt was ruined, but Rod found his trousers and pulled them on once Aurora was out of the room.

He followed the sound of Aurora’s happy footsteps into her bedroom to find that she had made a mess of her toys again. Mopsy would need see to them after Aurora fell asleep. Wearing a blue nightgown with a picture of a blonde cartoon fairy from some muggle movie Dorcas had given her, Aurora climbed into her bed and sat straight upright, waiting for her daddy. Stepping carefully over the piles of dolls and stuffed animals, Roddy made his way to her bookshelf and picked out a few options. “How about ‘Lucille the Leucrota’,” Rodolphus asked, holding up a book with a drawn leucrota wearing a brightly colored sun bonnet. “She’s going to a party,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster for a child’s book he had read a hundred times over. He already knew it would be a hit, having started over toward Aurora’s bed with it before she could even begin to voice her agreement. Aurora laid back onto her pillow as instructed as her father slide onto the bed next to, opening the book and beginning to read.

Aurora looked at the pictures and read a few of the lines herself but claimed her father did the voices better and strong-armed the man into using a high-pitched tone when reading Lucille’s parts. “What’s that?” Aurora interrupted softly, poking her father in the ribs as she pointed out the faint scar that hadn’t been there this morning. Rodolphus ignored her question and shushed her, then continued reading.