Rodolphus Lestrange

Zahi raised an eyebrow as he listened to Rodolphus speak. He was being carefully led toward their seats, and with all the tempting things Rodolphus was saying, he suspected the man was sucking up a bit. Still, they were pleasant things to hear and all correct. He was rich and smart and beautiful. He wasn’t going to dispute facts.

He didn’t miss where Rodolphus looked, so Zahi purposefully tucked his hair behind his ear, making the earring more obvious. “I suppose that’s true enough.” Zahi wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He certainly wasn’t going to play submissive in public, but he also wouldn’t bow to Rodolphus’ whims. They did appear as equal as they ever work when under public eyes. 

As Rodolphus opened the door, Zahi strode in ahead to examine the box. It had more than two seats, but from what Rodolphus had said, they would be viewing completely alone. 

“You create a scenario that I can’t really argue with, even if it I feel it isn’t entirely a fair one,” Zahi commented.

He wasn’t sure what the night would hold, but he was feeling bold and just a tiny bit spiteful about being shown off–even if part of him enjoyed it greatly. He lifted his wand and casually cast a barrier charm around the box that would hide them inside. It would look similar to a disillusionment charm, though it wouldn’t do anything from sound on either side. Plus, they could still see the play when it began this way. 

That settled, he turned to face Rodolphus again. “I must admit I’ve never been a fan of ballet, but I suppose I’ll have to look at your perspective on it.”

Zahi’s statement made Rodolphus grin; he couldn’t help it. Even though everything he’d said was entirely true- so true that Zahi couldn’t hit back without looking like a fool- it had been maneuvered in such a way that still wound up with Rodolphus in charge. Rodolphus as the one leading. Rodolphus as the one who got the last word, since all Zahi could do was agree. 

“When have we ever played fair, ma vipere?” he chuckled, coming up behind Zahi and pressing a hand to his hip, nipping at his earlobe playfully. When Zahi cast the charm around the box he frowned, and spun the other man around to face him. 

“You’ve rather defeated the purpose of being seen,” he pointed out, confused and displeased with the unseen turn of events. The hand on Zahi’s hip tightened slightly, fingers spreading out so his thumb pressed into the v of Zahi’s waist. His other hand went to the side of Zahi’s neck, the pressure barely-there but the question in it clear. 

Rodolphus stepped forward to he was speaking against Zahi’s ear, bearing down slightly the shorter man but not trapping him. “If you wanted a quick fuck you could have said so earlier. I’m not opposed to doing it here, but I was actually looking forward to the show.” His thumb swept up and down the column of Zahi’s throat gently. 

He backed away only enough that they could look each other in the eye. 

“I enjoy the grace of it. If you look hard enough, every great duelist has moved like a dancer, and that is a skill impossible to learn without hard work. There’s no shortcut, no cheating. I know you’ll appreciate the irony, but I like how honest it is.”

Valentina might have been able to offer Rodolphus logic, but he was in a place of emotion and people weren’t moved by logic. Unfortunately, she’d never quite managed to find a good way of dealing with people that were caught in their own feelings in such a way, it was why she was forever pushing off the delivery of bad news onto Kingsley.

You remained clear and concise. You analyzed the facts, you presented them. You kept to your points and you explained and you didn’t operate from a place of emotion, which somehow seemed to only infuriate those emotional people, which just increased the disconnect that Valentina had with them. She could fake being nice, but she couldn’t empathize.

She, who had a father and a former intended sitting in Azkaban, couldn’t connect with the anger that Rodolphus felt about his sibling being locked up like a criminal. Which Rabastan was, just like her father and just like Ari. Facts were facts and Rodolphus was behaving like a child realizing that actions had consequences, in her opinion.

It was like saying sorry and only doing so because you regretted being caught, not what you did.

“Personally, I’m surprised you haven’t sued the Ministry for abuse of power and defamation yet. They think they’re in control, but think of how things would start to crumble if the Sacred 28 started to pull their support.” Valentina commented, making sure that Rodolphus’ glass was refilled.

Leaning back and sipping at her drink, Valentina waited a moment to make sure Rodolphus was finished before continuing. “I’ve already requested to have him kept in holding at the Ministry until we can get him a trial, which is a process that would be delayed because there would need to be proof that it’s deserved. Holding someone because of charges brought up by a ghost that existed for one night and told one known individual isn’t the strongest case and not grounds for being sent to Azkaban.”

Rodolphus quirked her a tired smirk at the prospect of suing. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. There are several scathing articles set to come out tomorrow, and I’m discussing possible reprisals with the Malfoys and the Carrows.” As soon as he’d heard about the arrest he hadn’t honestly been that worried; Rabastan had been under suspicion before, but either he or Valentina always took care of it. This time he hadn’t waltzed out of the Ministry after a day or two, though. Rodolphus was meeting with Valentina now precisely because he’d reached the end of his rope; interfering too soon would have looked suspicious, as if they had something to hide, and Rodolphus’ entire public reputation hinged on being trustworthy and competent. 

The fact that he’d been gone for so long spoke to the fact that perhaps there was real evidence this time; hence Valentina. Hence now. Upon the realization that this wouldn’t just blow over like it should have. 

Valentina’s next words made his eyes flutter closed in relief, and he massaged his fingers against his forehead. Rabastan wasn’t in Azkaban. Things weren’t as they should have been, but at least he wasn’t there, surrounded by dementors who would pull away all of the sparse happy memories he had and leave him with nothing but his psychological scars, which were numerous. They would break him, if they didn’t outright kill him. 

“Thank God.” When he opened his eyes he gave her a slightly reproving look. “Kent is hungry for results; you know I wouldn’t put anything past her. Nothing says they’re making an example like using Azkaban as a trial hold. I just had to be sure.” He was over-explaining, but he was worried, and drunk, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually dealt with this much stress at once. Keeping the other Death Eaters in line, or even managing Bella, were nothing compared to the sheer terror that came with being unable to help his brother.

Bellatrix had secretly grown quite fond of her husband’s smile. It pushed her on, like a signal that would let her know she was doing something right. With the kitten in hand, she carefully poked a finger out to pet its forehead. The cat, although still hesitant, nuzzled into the touch. Meanwhile, she enjoyed her own touches to the back of her neck. Perhaps the two of them had things in common after all. “It is soft,” she mumbled, intrigued. It wasn’t that this surprised her necessarily. She’d just never had an animal of her own to hold like this. Most of her husband’s cats kept their distance, and honestly when they didn’t, she didn’t waste much time petting them. Momentarily scruffing the kitten, she placed it on her shoulder, where it dug its claws in so it wouldn’t fall. She flinched just barely, but then grinned. “Pumpkin likes me,” she decided, like that was that, and what she said goes.

Perhaps Rodolphus should have been more worried about the cat than Bellatrix; after all, animals had a sense for bad people, murderers, the like. But the kitten nuzzled into Bella’s unpracticed touch like it had been born there. When she blithely placed it on her shoulder Rodolphus couldn’t help the beginnings of a wince, because surely the kitten would fall and Bella would be angry about things not going her way-

Pumpkin. The kitten was named Pumpkin, and it was sitting on her shoulder, and she was grinning like she didn’t have ten claws dug into her flesh so it could keep anchored. He gave a small, incredulous huff. 

Valentina wasn’t surprised in the least when Rodolphus snapped at her on sight, but she was hardly impressed with him, her eyebrows raising because she wasn’t one of his lackeys that would cower in fear because of his temper. “Because they’re making an example of him.” She said simply, curious to see if he would be foolish enough to accuse her of not trying to get Rabastan released. Considering just how destructive of a force Rabastan was, Valentina was aware that he was an asset to the Dark Lord and while the number of death eaters was still large, it still didn’t bode well when any of them were arrested.

“Rich pureblood son with a history of suspicion arrested for the murder of an immigrant muggleborn mother of two, it’s the perfect scenario to make it look like they actually care about the deaths of mudbloods and that they won’t rest until a case is closed.” Rolling her eyes as if she found the entire thing to be ridiculous, Valentina moved to make herself a drink, not counting on Rodolphus to be much of a good host and not expecting him to be, either. “They’re keeping the name of the informant under wraps, but I’m trying to find it. I’m sure with a little pressure, the little snitch could be accused of falsely accusing him. And you seems like you could use the chance to let off some pressure.”

Valentina’s answer was an honest one, but Rodolphus didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to hear that she’d have results, that the Ministry’s intentions meant nothing when she was in the perfect place to free Rabastan. 

His glass clicked against the counter with an alarming amount of force, the sound filling the kitchen, loud enough to make a person wonder how the crystal hadn’t shattered with it. Valentina made herself a drink and he didn’t say anything for a long time, simply following her with his eyes, sharp and angry, as he collected himself.

“They can make an example of someone else,” he growled. “Not a Lestrange. Not my brother, Valentina.”

 Hearing that she was hunting down the informant was reassuring, but not enough. “This isn’t about relieving ‘pressure’,” he snapped. Normally he enjoyed trading barbs with her, enjoyed their dynamic of power and wit. Not now. Now he was nearly drunk and at the end of his rope with worry, and not able to hide it. “You should have taken care of this the minute it happened; it’s been nearly a week. Get me the fucking name and I’ll take care of it, and then you can do your job and get him out of there.”

He was breathing heavily, one of his hands resting on the counter at his side and forming a fist so hard it trembled. 

“And while you’re at it, get him the fuck out of Azkaban. There have to be other places to hold him; you know the Dementors will kill him before the Ministry ever gets the chance to.”

When Rodolphus caught Zahi’s hand, his eyes flashed. He felt like he was being humored, and he didn’t like it. He did understand what this was, though. He wasn’t here to watch ballet. He was here to allow people to see them together and wonder. 

“I’m well aware I look good,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “How long am I being shown off then. I know your wife doesn’t care, but I’d rather keep rumors to a minimum. I have a reputation to maintain.” He smirked, knowing that would irk Rodolphus. Truly Rodolphus was the one between them whose reputation had more at stake.

Zahi didn’t want to be see as just some lover attached to a powerful man, though. He was dangerous in his own right. If people were intimidated by him, he wanted it to be for his own merit, not who he may or may not have been screwing on a regular basis.

“By the way, I didn’t realize you were such a fan of the arts. Is it ballet in particular or part of a wider group?”

Rodolphus suppressed a sigh at Zahi’s acerbic tone. He knew how this looked, when put in context of their other games, but Rodolphus was trying- as delicately as possible- to make tonight different, despite what his poor choice of words may have implied. 

“I doubt being seen with someone like me will harm your reputation,” Rodolphus pointed out lightly, trying not to look annoyed at the implication that he was the weak link in their public image. But he still kept them moving toward the stairs, where there were slightly fewer eyes on them- they had a bit of time before the curtain rose, and most of the attendees were still at the bar mingling. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to be seen with you?” he murmured, winding an arm around Zahi’s waist to reverse their positions and murmuring close to his ear. They were any other couple in the crowd, glowing with youth and wealth, reveling in physical closeness. “The Shafiq heir, a cold intellect, the most handsome man in this and, dare I say, any room.” 

He leaned back just enough to throw Zahi a smirk of his own, one brow raised as if daring Zahi to argue with his assessment. “Don’t deny that we compliment each other. I may have my more... dominant tendencies...” his gaze lingered over the earrings that framed his lover’s face, “But in the public eye I’ll allow that we are of equal to each other.”

He opened the door to the opulent box and followed Zahi in while he considered the question. 

“If I wasn’t a man of taste, I wouldn’t have pursued you, would I?” he chuckled. “I have a genuine enjoyment for it.”

@editor-in-strange​

Zahi wanted to pretend he didn’t care what he looked like, but he still found himself reaching up to make sure his hair looked right. He very rarely left it down when he wasn’t at home, but then again, Rodolphus didn’t invite him to the theatre often. Zahi had been surprised to receive the request, but Rodolphus had insisted the tickets had been a work perk. If he was lying, Zahi didn’t want to pry. 

Instead he’d dressed in his best and actually curled his hair for the occasion. Zahi knew he looked hot, but he couldn’t help being slightly self-conscious about it being outside his typical look.

“Where are we sitting again?” he asked, pressing a guiding hand against Rod’s back before his lover had a chance to do it to him as they stood in the lobby. He had no illusions. He was here because Rodolphus wanted to show him off to a harmless enough audience, but that didn’t mean he was nicely play the piece of arm candy.

Despite Zahi’s hand at his back- an attempt to maintain his independence, but for show only- Rodolphus lifted his arm and caught Zahi’s other hand before he could fuss with his curls again. 

“Don’t fidget; you’re a vision,” he reassured. He wanted to curl a hand into Zahi’s hair but that was too bold for now, so he resisted. Instead he savored the sight of Zahi with his hair down, wearing the earrings Rodolphus had given him, and pressed a chaste kiss just beneath Zahi’s palm before releasing his hand. 

“I have a private box,” Rodolphus told him, unable to stop the smug curl of his lips at the declaration. Surely Zahi hadn’t assumed anything less? “It can be curtained for privacy, but I hope you’ll indulge my inclination to show you off, at least for a moment.”

It was moments like this that Bellatrix secretly lived for. Feeling her husband’s hand wind through her hair, brushing the back of her neck - it was glorious. It was everything she wanted: rewarding, a reminder of her place. “I might have had a little bit of help? Although, of course, it’s really not too difficult for them to be found when there’s news of them in the area anyway.” Her eyebrows raised as her lips curled into a smirk. “In fact, it was easy, since they were all in one place~”

“A gift?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. Not that it would be incredibly uncommon for Rodolphus to surprise her now and again…in various ways. “I wasn’t aware it was Christmas already~” With an intrigued expression, she slowly opened the gift box, and her eyebrows raised as her eyes met a small, orange kitten. “A fluff ball? You shouldn’t have..?”

She wasn’t sure how to proceed. It wasn’t as though she had much experience with the cats that roamed their home. Of course, she was fine with them from time to time, but this seemed a bit of a jump. The tiny thing meowed up at her, looking hesitant. In response, Bellatrix picked it up out of the box and held it up at eye level. “You are a small puff, aren’t you?” Her words were not soft, but rather put-off. Still though, she didn’t hate the gift. Perhaps she could grow fond of…this creature. “An orange little puff… Like a tiny pumpkin.”

The way Bellatrix cut off when the box appeared was oddly endearing. She’d been a trial over the years, but recently they’d achieved a certain tenuous balance that wasn’t altogether awful. He felt more like handler than husband, but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. Merlin, he really hoped she didn’t hurt the cat.

“You’ve earned it,” he said, lips quirking into a smile at her childlike curiosity. He’d picked the kitten precisely for its bright color, thinking that it would catch Bella’s interest like a magpie spots a fallen coin. And then she was holding it, and talking to it, and it was oddly- tender?

Salazar’s ghost, that wasn’t a feeling he’d ever thought to associate with her. He swiped his thumb gently up and down the back of her neck, his hold still commanding and firm.

“I thought you could do with a familiar,” he explained. “A living thing of your own- I know, let’s not laugh at the irony. Perhaps something to keep you occupied between periods of excitement. Do you like it?”