who's in control?

“Rodolphus.” Her greeting wasn’t cold but it was coloured with a hint of surprise. She had seen him as she entered the library and headed in his direction mostly because she would prefer to sit close to a fellow seventh year than the gossiping first years or the third years trying to stop Pince from noticing they were practising magic under the desk. Her intention had not necessarily to sit with him, however. When she studied she preferred to do so alone. Not only that but she was not as close to the older Lestrange as she was to her betrothed and it was a strange situation to find herself in, to make awkward small talk with her future brother-in-law, slash fellow Death Eater. Still, the invitation was there so she sat down beside him. “How are you?” She took a few textbooks out of her bag, undecided which subject she wished to study first. “What are you working on?”

As she asked her pleasantries, Rod fought to roll his eyes at the whole ordeal. He was the one who offered his table, a place for her to sit, but it felt too pleasant, too formal. He had been brought up to fake niceties, to say the right things to move the conversation in the way that he wanted them to go and it made it hard for him to separate real and fake in everyday conversation. “I”m good, not much I could complain about, yourself?” He still had his Runes notes out and various books and texts about what he needed for his essay scattered around him. None of it was something he was particularly happy about but if father insists. “Ancient Runes. A fascinatingly dull class if you ask me. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.” 

Rod was always a bit of a prissy personality in Amycus’ eyes. Telling the lad that was about as welcoming as a headache –induced by a spiked bat to the head. While he could pull it off one of the many statues in the school, plunge it into any passing mudblood, he had fancier ideas. Playing with those they unfortunately shared the school with was one thing—playing with minds? That was his playground. “The second best thing,” He clicked his tongue. “Don’t tell me spending time with Rabastan was the first—I’ll begin to think you’ve lost your touch, Rod.” Trivial things like some emotional bond was not what he held the elder Lestrange brother too. “I’m sure Severus might’ve had a few choice words on how most of you handled it—“ He suggested. Amycus’ had only sat out of it for pure respect for Alecto. She needn’t the banner of both twins when she was aptly skilled to cover methods both of them would’ve used. “I heard someone made it to second base with Andromeda—“ He turned his head, the shit eating grin on his lips at the trivial entitlement. “Damon loves to gossip, you know. No wonder it was a happy Christmas for you.”

At the mention of Rabastan and spending time with him to be the first best thing about the holiday, Rod looked over at Amycus with a deadpanned expression, his arms crossing over his chest. “Truly, if that was your first thought I would question your observational skills. Rabastan and I -- well whatever hope for brother bonding died ages ago and won’t ever be able to be resurrected.” Even if he did try, Rab wouldn’t. Their parents did a good job splitting the two brothers up and keeping the wedge between them from being mended. The mention of Severus made Rod’s lip twitch, almost allowing a smile but not quite. “Severus will get used to it. There’s honor in sacrifice and we’ve all done it for the Dark Lord.” His voice was low enough, not to be overheard by anyone unfavorable, to allow others to know what they had gotten up to during the holiday. At the mention of Andromeda, Rod’s jaw clenched and his arms only tightened across his chest. Why is it that whenever someone else would mention her, all of his instincts screamed at him to make the others wish they hadn’t let her name cross their tongue? “And you listen to gossip now? What I do or don’t do with my betrothed is my business and I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas of using that gift of yours. I’ve been practicing Occlumency.” Rod allowed a small smile to grace his lips, almost filled with a sense of triumph at his accomplishments of learning Occlumency. “But enough about me and my life. Do you have anything new in your life, anything interesting?” 

He operated on the power of what elitism could bring him under the endless loyalty he held. To one man, one being, one entity of a world Antonin wanted to live in. He lived, breathed, would’ve bled—died for the Dark Lord’s work. That was what put him into the inner most darkened ranks of their world, their circle existed simply as a gathering—but Antonin was held as a punisher, an executioner—a man who would see forth the plans someone wanted to come to life. The Dark Lord wanted him to keep his distance, draw suspicion onto his life on the assumption of who he was without saying it—he could do that. He was, if anything, a devoted man to a higher power. A God.

If it pleases the Dark Lord, I would kill my father where he stood. “Consider just doing it anyways. What has your father done to serve the cause that you haven’t already stepped up, willing? Your father might be formidable, within the original numbers as myself—but he’s not you.” Antonin held a liking to Rodolphus in ways he would not ever extend to his bastard brother, Rabastan. A child, a whiny, arrogant, coddled by their mother child. That was not who belonged with them. That was not who Antonin would call one of the elite. Not unless he proved himself worthy of such a title.

Dirk Cresswell. Antonin made a mental note of the name, if only to seek out, put a face to the name. Perhaps place the boy in Rodolphus’ way at all times to see how badly he could snap a Mudblood. The smile rose at the twisted suggestion, the idea popping into his head before he ushered it out, expressing a small laugh. “You should just cut it out—serve it to him during the morning’s breakfast and watch him eat it.” He suggested, examining his nail bed with a saucy look on his face. “Slowly cut him up—tongue, fingers, toes, and then when you’re bored and looking for another, just cut the mudblood’s head off and leave it placed and bleeding out on Dumbledore’s chair in the great hall. He’s so inept to let them live—he can deal with the stain of their blood. Literally.”

He didn’t care. Torture and mayhem built upon the insanity that had crafted Antonin to be who he was. Women without worth were lesser beings, he would make it clear to them. Men were held in the same tact. Everyone was weak, too scared to follow through with the wonders their world, their cause could bring them. All morality needed to die within each of them for them to win. It did with Antonin, as the lifeless bodies of his parents hung before him. He ran a hand along his jaw. “If only she was more like Bella, I would tell you something that would benefit you.” He said simply, knowing where his expertise laid. Of course—the insanity that sprung from Bella and Antonin and whatever this plaguing obsession he held for her was unlike anything else. Incomparable. “I’m sure you can break her to be what you want.” The mention of the stain on the Black family had the darkened scowl settling in. “Yes, how is our dearest Sirius? Has he choked on his own tongue yet?” He asked hopeful. 

Your father might be formidable, within the original numbers as myself—but he’s not you. There’s a slight twitch in his cheek as he fought the urge to smile. The idea that Rod could be something more than his father, something above his father, felt something close to a forbidden dream. Something he could never think of could never hold on to because it would only let him down. Killing his father was too tempting, too sweet to do for the sake of doing it. He had to wait for the perfect time, to see the look on his father’s face to see that he had lost the game of chess they’ve been playing for years. Queen takes King. Son dethrones father. “I’ll have to consider the timing. Maybe once I’m done with this bloody school and I’ve married Andromeda, my father would have no purpose in life to consider continuing to live.” He doesn’t bide his time because of fear or hesitation, no he bides his time because he still needed something from his father. One last lesson where he’ll be the teacher instead of the student. 

Good Salazar. The mind of Antonin Dolohov was something more dark and twisted than Rod’s mind could ever be and yet, every word out of the older man’s face had Rod almost salivating at the idea. At the thought of cutting up a mudblood, piece by piece, and scatter them throughout the castle. Is this the chaos that the Dark Lord wanted from them? It must be if Antonin is freely giving this advice and it was almost intoxicating to think of. To let himself go in such a way, allow chaos to enter him and control him. “If given the chance, I may do just that. Or, maybe play with him for a bit, truly see the fear in his face before I finally decide his final fate. Once I’m bored, Dumbledore could have the mudblood’s head. All of their heads.” 

“I’m not sure I’d want Andromeda to be more like Bellatrix, not that there is anything wrong with Bellatrix, she’s quite the woman.” The kind of woman that he had admired for years, strong and skillful and someone more on his equal. Rod could have questioned why he had not been betrothed to Bellatrix but the marriage between them would never work, Bellatrix Black simply isn’t wife material, there’s too much fight in her. Where Andromeda is softer, kinder, the perfect sort to be a mother. “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure something out with Andromeda, she’ll be mine soon enough.” Corvidae brushed up against his leg, suddenly reminding him of where they were and the time that snuck upon them. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you for much longer, I’m sure you have something better to do than hang around here. Thank you for the advice, you’ve been more informative than my father ever has been and it only proves just how useless that man truly is. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon but unfortunately, I still have classes to attend in the morning.” Rod gave the man a nod as he got up, bidding a silent goodnight before heading off to his dorm. 

Where: Slytherin Common Room, 1:42 pm. With: Andromeda Black & @lestrangeness​

Well, she was trying. Who could say anything but that? Expect anything but that from her? That she feared the lingering sense that there might’ve been more like Evan, his mark burned into her memory with a fiery hot poker, staining her thoughts. She could not escape it, no matter what she did. It was there, against his forearm, branded. He’d said it wasn’t a choice—it wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t a choice—well they all bloody didn’t get a choice. Shouldn’t she have been able to sympathize? Surely. But she just felt the rug ripped out from under her, shattering everything and watching the wall crumble around her. It was why she felt lost in her own mind, looking at the people she knew—did they have it too? Were they forced or was it a choice?

That pill was something too hard to swallow, just the thought alone too terrifying to even consider. Not when she had to focus, regain her sense of self to put forth the ideal that she was supposed to be, not the person she was internally. His birthday had passed, and he didn’t tell her. As if she wasn’t feeling guilty enough when he kissed her, she felt herself shy away. She wanted to like him, really like him. Give into what he wanted. It would’ve made Rod happy. It would’ve made her sisters happy, as though if she looked happy would’ve been enough. She really wanted to try. Taking him out for his birthday seemed like the right thing to do, though she wasn’t sure how exactly preferable he’d be trudging through the snow to go to Hogsmeade. Or if he wanted to even go at all.

Waiting in the Common room, as she stumbled across Atlas, striking up a conversation with her fellow Slytherin. He had always seemed nice enough to her, jokes presided as a laugh tumbled from her lips, and she settled a hand on his forearm. ‘I’m not joking, it was a mess—‘ Atlas pleaded as Andromeda lifted a hand to her mouth, stifling the laughter before swatting at him gently. “It is funny, you just don’t have the tact to laugh.” She countered his argument, shaking her head. ‘I swear, I’ll find a way to make you stop laughing at me—‘ Threatening tones were never bestowed upon the Black sisters, she knew that, even as his demeanor and smile broached gentleness. Andromeda took one step back from the edge of the staircase, shaking her head, as he hoisted her over his shoulder, tossing her in a mess of limbs onto the plush leather couch as her yelp echoed through the space.

“Atlas, you absolute arse—“ She shouted, poking her head up from the couch, as she spotted Rod standing at the bottom of the steps. “Hi,” She breathed, unsure of how much he saw, as she stood slowly, straightening her cloak and hair, rising to her feet. ‘I should go—this isn’t over.’ Atlas wagged a finger at her, as she shook her head. Rounding the edge of the couch, she moved, running a shaky hand through her hair. “So—are you ready to go?” She asked, ignoring the flush of her cheeks. “I thought since… well, you didn’t tell me we missed your birthday we should celebrate it. If you’d like?”

As the weekend came and went, Rodolphus spent his birthday alone, doing whatever he pleased without any interruption. In a way, his birthday was spent in the most perfect way he could think of. Though, there were thoughts that he attempted to ignore, this nagging voice in the back of his mind that wanted him to find Andromeda. They have made some strides in their relationship, at least in his opinion, as she has finally allowed him to be a bit more intimate. Not quite where he wanted to be but if there is anything Rod is up for, it’ll be the long game. Patience came easier to him but so did jealousy, envy, the green-eyed monster. 

How long had this been going on? His thoughts wandered as he reached the bottom of the steps. Rod looked at the scene before him with quiet anger building up within him. His face didn’t betray him, keeping it neutral as much as he could while his fists at his sides curled into tight balls. It was only when he was noticed that they stopped, his next thought hit him enough to raise the anger more. Had they done this before? It was almost as if they were laughing at him rather than laughing with each other, that he was the butt end of the joke they so cruelly played out in front of him. As Atlas exited the room, Rod’s eyes followed with clear distaste in them, only looking back at Andromeda when she spoke.  So—are you ready to go? I thought since… well, you didn’t tell me we missed your birthday we should celebrate it. If you’d like? 

Ignoring every urge and instinct to question what he had just witnessed, to write it off as something innocent rather than what he thought was happening, Rod simply nodded. “Yes, yes, sounds fine.” A small, yet begrudging smile came to his lips as he held out his hand for her to take, turning to begin heading out of the common room. He didn’t say a word until they were out, pulling her closer to him before leaning just enough to be closer to her ear. “So, do you mind telling me how you knew it was my birthday?” Again, he fought asking about the Atlas thing, knowing that it would only ruin this moment they’re having with it. Besides, it would be nice for her to stew in any of the guilt she may feel. “I don’t make it public knowledge.” 

If the harshness of their environment hadn’t been a prime sector in the splitting of two men who were supposed to be brothers—there might’ve been a chance. If Lucien Lestrange hadn’t purposely separated the brothers for a future the both of them didn’t see coming in their time as infants, hadn’t been so intent on keeping one to lead the brigade and one to remain in the shadows should his prized mule fail—well, it might’ve been better. “Something could befall me?” Rabastan clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t be so blindly dense Rod. Should something befall you then I serve a purpose. And for the record regarding my betrothed—Rosamund is my friend. I would never let something come to her. If it wouldn’t be my own guilt already making that a promise I intend to keep, it would be her father coming for my head. Both of those serve as enough intact to do the right thing.” The right thing that benefited Rabastan, that was. He snorted under his breath. “Well, excuse me for finding it fitting that if I’m to wait to die, or wait to serve some purpose—I’m going to have fun while I do it. It’d be a shame while not under Father’s eye when you get back to school to do the same.

Plans have changed and it seems that some of our classmates have been invited to this little soiree father has thrown. I do believe that your betrothed will be there, along with mine, and I suppose it would save face for you with father if you attend. Rabastan let out the subtle groan under his lips, rolling darkened eyes as he stood shaking his head slowly. He didn’t garner a response to his brother, wand raised, pointed at the trunk as it snapped closed, locking. It was then he moved once more, opposite end of the room, where a hidden treasure cove of liquor swiped from their father’s stash, and two glasses. Pouring himself one, and reluctantly pouring Rod another, he moved, handing him the glass silently. “Rosamund could handle it on her own, and I’ve long given up on saving face with Father, it’s a lost cause.” That was a lie, but he didn’t leave time as he continued to speak. “Mother would understand if I wanted to leave.” But Rabastan couldn’t do that to her. That subtle sense of guilt he so very loathed, wished to rid himself of. “Are you even making headway on Andromeda? How can you even find interest in the girl, she doesn’t speak… Bellatrix does it for her.” He smirked to his joke, but he could only ask to be curious, silence evading as he took a drink. But Rodolphus was suggesting to stand as one. Look like they brothers they very much did not act like. His gaze narrowed only slightly, staring at his brother. “A united front,” He murmured, another drink to pass the time, as fingers lightly gripped the glass. “A purpose to serve something you want, I presume? Go on, spit it out. Why would you want a united front with me now?”

“I never said that my future was set in stone and that’s precisely why you need to prepare, prepare for a day that something could befall either one of us. Something that would not serve our father or the Dark Lord any favors.”  —Rosamund is my friend. The statement made Rod click his tongue, not speaking until he was sure his brother was done. Friends. He could barely get his own betrothed to look him in the eye on a good day. How is it that his brother is always so fortunate in everything? “Friends. How bloody sentimental.” He almost wanted to ask, what would father think? But he knew what their father would think. There was no room for friendship, for comfort in being married when the whole point of this is to bring more pure children in the world. To keep their numbers from dwindling. To bring forth a new generation and continue traditions. There could be no comfort in their arrangements and yet, Rod envied his brother’s comfort and his friendship with Rosamund. He didn’t even bother to let himself comment on Rabastan’s clear goading, stating that Rod should have some fun. As if he would ever have the room to have fun. Too much hung on his shoulders that his brother would never know the true meaning of. Luxuries that no amount of wealth could ever buy, that’s what Rabastan had and Rodolphus felt endlessly jealous over it.

There was a slight quirk in his eyebrow at the drink that was handed to him, waiting for his brother to take the first sip before he would. Not that he would accuse his brother of poisoning him out loud, or to his face, but the thought will always cross his mind. Always finding enemies in every person around him. A paranoia birthed by his father’s teachings. “Oh, I’m sure mother would love for you to walk out on a party. Unable to boast about her favorite son, oh how she will miss that.” The sarcasm dripped from his every syllable like venom. It would never be a fair trade. Rod got his father’s pride, his father’s teachings, his father’s painful lessons in what happens to disobedient children. While Rab had gotten their mother’s love, the only love she had left to give apparently, as she would always look at Rod as if he were something filthy in her home. Even though everything in Rod wanted to be even-tempered, the mere mention of Andromeda sent him feeling too many things, made him almost brash and reckless as a Gryffindor. “Don’t talk about Andromeda that way,” he told his brother, more like a warning, through gritted teeth. “I am managing my betrothal just fine, brother, if you’re so worried about it.” As Rabastan questioned the united front, Rod knew it would take some convincing. With a slight sigh, Rod took one drink of the alcohol given to him, his brain already turning to try and figure out how to word this in a way that might entice his brother. “Do you want to be part of the Dark Lord’s elite circle? If we work together, we will be powerful enough to get there. On our own, maybe, but a united front? That’s something I think that only a few other siblings have in our circle. I do like the Carrows but have you ever wondered who could be better, you and I versus them? I want things in life and the Dark Lord will help me get them. Don’t you want similar help?” 

Where: Slytherin Common Room, 9:03 pm With: Amycus Carrow & Rodolphus Lestrange

Rabastan was all good and fun, but Rodolphus was to be the one leading the Lestrange family in the near future. The uncanny difference between brothers always fell of interest to Amycus—but solely because on this earth, he was meant to serve at Alecto’s side, above all else. It was good those who could read mind wouldn’t read his. His loyalty unwavering to one. But he was bored, he needn’t frequent the common room of Ravenclaw. Not with the nattering. Whispers of a party within Slytherin Common room only struck those who mattered, and Amycus was considered one. Following suit of a fifth year’s thoughts, finding the password within their mind, he too entered into the darkened dungeons. Music thundered, people cheered and drank, but for no apparent reason other than to muster the wealth they all bore. Finding Rodolphus alongside the shenanigans within the centre of the common room, he stood next to him. “Finding no interest in a self-absorbed mosh pit?” He commented, grinning broadly. “Have a good Christmas?” And he left no time before he continued. “Have fun inducting Severus into our circle?” His voice lowered when he said that.

@lestrangeness​

Trivial. Useless. Ridiculous. The words repeated in his mind as he had spent the last few minutes trying to look for one person to occupy his time and she was nowhere to be found. Anger seemed to filter throughout him, mixing with a clear sense of disappointment. Have fun, Rabastan had told him, and fun was right in front of him, yet Rod couldn’t bring himself to join. His sense of fun wasn’t the same as others. Fun meant cornering people he saw as his victims in bathrooms, torturing them, hexing them, cursing them, and watching them writhe in pain. For a split second, he had thought about going to do just that, find a victim like he had during the Yule Ball, but his thoughts were jarred by someone coming up to him, speaking. Rod turned to Amycus, eyebrows raised but not bothering to answer the first question. Or the second, only staring at Amycus when he asked the third, silently asking if he were going to keep on talking. “Of course I did. It was the second-best thing about my holiday.” The first being just a taste of alone time with Andromeda. “And what sort of question is that, Amycus? I enjoyed myself plenty. Was there anyone there who didn’t?”

And do you not find it odd that it would fall out of your hand and into a mudblood’s instead? Are you sure she did not mean to take it from you? Andromeda didn’t know why his mind was reeling to such a fact. That defense took precedence within her mind, willing to tell him he was wrong, willing to tell him she gave the ring back to her. But it all fell silent on the tip of her tongue, unable to relinquish such a truth, even as she opened her mouth. “I don’t think she meant to take it, what could she want with a ring you gave me?” She asked sheepishly, averting her gaze. “There’s no personal merit in it for Macdonald to take the ring, it doesn’t mean anything to her.” Not that Andromeda could say it meant anything to her yet either, but Rod’s increasing irritation was becoming clear. It was where they stood, on two ends of one spectrum. Blaming Mary because she was dirty blood—the girl handed the ring back to Andromeda. If she wanted it—wouldn’t she have just run with it? Used it as a method to mock Andromeda for losing it in the first place? “Please calm down, it’s nothing. The ring is safe, there’s nothing to worry about.”

But he turned away from her, as she expelled a soft sigh. Maybe she’d done wrong by him, keeping him at arm’s length just so she wouldn’t expose herself to him fully. Or that she was nervous. That he could’ve cared and been protective and even in this cold world it might’ve been a best of the worst kind of situation. She didn’t want to deny his claims—Narcissa’s insinuation of his feelings struck clear in her mind: ‘He clearly fancies you.’ “I know you did.” She murmured, shaking her head. Now she’d have to push the thoughts, the way guilt danced in her mind when she’d left him, and she knew that ultimately—Andromeda was in the wrong. I suppose that this is your way of spending the end of the night with you so you could make it up to me now. But the image before her was blurring still, she’d had too much to drink. His words were suggestive, as Andromeda snorted. “I’m not sleeping with you, Rod.” She murmured, trying to hide the smile. “But I’ll spend Christmas with you.” His hand in hers, she didn’t pull away, even if she considered it, knowing he was still reaching for her. Guilt was powerful over the witch, in the way her sisters could turn her head, Alecto could bend her mind. She’d yelled at Evan, and felt terrible for her reaction, how fear played a role. It played the heaviest role now.

Andromeda sensed some physical response might’ve been the best, besides not pulling away when he held her hand. She knew it wasn’t the best of times, enacting on it. She stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek without him having to bend to reach her. It’d been as close as she’d let them be. Holding hands, revolving in the same circles, surely. Not this. “I’m sorry.” She spoke sincerely. She didn’t move away slightly, even if her heart was thundering from within, arms slipping around his shoulders. “I mean, it, Rod, I am sorry.” She could blame the liquor, it warmed her through. She could blame it on that, being so drunk she wasn’t thinking. She could remember her mother’s teachings—a man was easily fooled by affection. Even if it was cruel, it was the easiest solution she could think of. Andromeda wouldn’t tell him another’s face filtered through her mind when she moved into kiss him, pressing her lips to his. She didn’t tell him she was thinking of the boy from outside, cheeky grin lingered in her mind when she leaned into kiss him. What Rod didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Pulling away slightly, flushed cheeks—and reality set in. “Um—“ She stepped back. “So—so there’s that.”

He could have yelled, he could have said all the words that crossed in his mind in a loud, angry voice. But that would only drive the wedge between them to be wider, wide enough to be filled with all of his useless feelings fo her. Rodolphus wanted to tell her that she was being naive. That Mary could have cursed the ring. She could have given a copy and taken the real one to pawn off for money. Any sort of worst-case scenario filtered through his mind at every excuse she gave him but it was her final words on the subject, the ones pleading for him to calm down and that the ring was safe, that kept his mouth shut. Rod knew that it would be a continuous battle, for her to trust him and not be afraid of him, and for him to earn her affections in a way that was all her own. Even if the alternative to such things felt so readily available to him. “Fine, it’s safe. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” 

It seemed apparent, at least for him, that he was slowly getting his way and getting what he wanted. Rod could see the guilt churning in Andromeda, the way it was woven through her as if it was always there, just hiding. It was also clear to him that it may have been easier to access that part of her because of the alcohol in her system. Rod tried not to show the offense he took at her teasing, at her denying the possibility of sleeping with him. Will she ever? But it wouldn’t be right to act this way when she was starting to give him something close to trying with him. “I’ll take Christmas,” it made him smile, at the thought, of their first true holiday as an engaged couple. 

Her kiss had been something slightly unexpected by Rod. He didn’t expect her to initiate something so affection, so physical. He had thought that holding her hand might be the closest thing he’ll ever get to this kind of touch but kissing her? It shocked his core for a moment, not knowing how to react before he was kissing her back. The hand free of hers reached up, cupping her face, in a gentle manner that seemed so uncharacteristic of him. “That was,” he smiled through his words when she pulled away, “nice.” Rodolphus had no intention of letting Andromeda go, his hand still holding on to hers. It felt solid, now, the thought that he will refuse to allow anything to come between him and her. That he’ll make sure that this marriage will work because it’s what he wants and by this one singular act, he can freely hope that she’ll want the same. “You’ll probably be wanting to head to bed, yes? Maybe one more before you do?” Despite asking the question, Rod had already closed the gap between them to plant another chaste kiss on her lips, clenching his cheek for a moment to keep himself from smiling too wide. 

Antonin could see the joy—fuck, he didn’t even know Rod could smile, as though some sickened sense brought upon his own, mimicking. Only those who wanted it bad enough cared to illicit such a feeling. That they wanted to be known as the best, the top. “There’s only few I would trust within the circle. He’s looking for those to lead the future.” At the quip to Rod’s father, he shrugged. “Well then, you’ll be sure to be the first to spit in his face and tell him that. Or kill him, if you’re so intent on proving yourself. That’s what I did with mine.” At some point, they would have to spill valued blood, of those who did not adhere to their world, their ways. His parents was a valued sacrifice. All for the bigger picture.

Something in him snapped, like it was Christmas at the thought. Murder of those unworthy was the most pleasurable thing he could think of. The drowning of screams found in his smile. “Do tell me a name, I’ll be sure to find them in your way more than once. You can practice some of our more favourable spells on them.” The killing curse. It might’ve been the most beautiful spell that Antonin could think of. The big finale after an endless parade of torture, of course. That he would never miss out on. “Not that you need my help—but if you’re interested in a helping hand, I’ll always be there to offer.”

The quip to Dumbledore made a bark-like laugh fall from his lips, but he said nothing more to it. Dumbledore was never worth the conversation, less they be discussing his impending death, all within their group wanted. Even the talk of children—surely when Bella was done, he’d only swoop in on the prospect to stop her from daring to be with someone else. “You will, who else would you have children for besides to carry on the line and me?” He chided the boy with a grin. “Really?” That toothy grin was there, but he didn’t press. “Sounds like she’s much more like Bellatrix than even I assumed. Druella’s only brave enough to open her mouth when Cygnus isn’t within earshot, I assumed she’d be more like her drab mother.”

A bored expression was there for a moment, as his gaze narrowed in on the boy. “If you want the girl to fuck you, corner her into doing it, that’s what I would do. Most women are too stupid to say no, too shy to offend, too worried someone might find out. Play that to your advantage. Just because she’s to be your wife doesn’t mean you can’t tap into her head.” He chuckled at the idea. “Imperio might be another option if she chooses to be so against opening up, create the base to make her want to talk to you. Eventually she’d be so confused to her actions, all you’d need to do is fill her head with things, and then… things fall naturally from there.” He then sat forward. “And if you want to regard her as anything like her sister… then she, like her sister, would like it rough. Take that as you will. Just make a good breeding machine out of the girl, there are too many blood traitors in our world.”

There is this sort of hungry feeling that pushes through his body at the mention of killing his father. While there was no other way of looking at it, Lucien Lestrange has chosen Rodolphus to be the favorited child, purely due to the fact that he was born first, but the favoritism stopped there. While the lessons have been informative over the years, Rod took what he wanted from them and it would have been better if the punishments over tiny, insignificant things weren’t so severe. But to elicit that pain on his father, years and years of pain, inflicted in such a way that would cause death -- it sounded too sweet. Especially if it would all be done for the Dark Lord, for the cause, for Rod’s advancement. “If it pleases the Dark Lord, I would kill my father where he stood.” And the statement held no lies, his heartbeat and facial expressions steady as he spoke. He’d kill his mother too but that wouldn’t be something to make Rod prove his loyalty, that would be better suited for his younger brother.

As Antonin offered his help with Rodolphus’ little problem, he thought about it carefully. It would be a beyond foolish move of him to turn down the offer, given Antonin strikes him as someone who doesn’t give out too many offers to help. It would also be foolish not to seek the help of someone older, wiser, and clearly clever enough to fool the Aurors into thinking that he’s on their side. It felt like a clear decision for Rod. “Dirk Cresswell,” was the first name out of his mouth and so far the only name. Everyone else who bothers him will eventually get what’s coming to them, Dirk just happens to be one that Rod fears might fall through the cracks. Unnoticeable by most but so incredibly bothersome for him. “He’s got a tongue on him for a mudblood and I’d love to curb it.”

Despite the conversation going well, Rod had his reserves about the older man. Yes, Antonin is one person that befriending would benefit Rod greatly, he can see that clearly. Antonin is close with the Dark Lord, arguably closer than Lucien could ever be and Rod sees value in that. He sees value in being on Antonin’s good side, so he chose his words carefully and chose when to speak. He only nodded and smiled, ever so slightly, at the continuation of one of his children being for Antonin. And again when he mentioned his in-laws, knowing better than to speak ill of them when anyone could overhear. If Andromeda felt the same amount of love for her sisters as her parents, it wouldn’t be wise of him to say something that might upset her. Which is a feeling that felt strange and unlike him, wanting to put someone else’s needs before him but that’s the whole mystery behind his growing affections for Andromeda.

Saying something that would show this to Antonin already felt like a bad idea, so he stayed quiet until he had something concrete to say. When the older Slytherin mentioned cornering her to get what he wanted, Rod’s mind began to turn, having already had these thoughts before himself. Especially when the Imperius curse is brought up, it would be just too easy and a part of him wanted something easier. This whole fighting for things to go his way was growing quite tiresome. If only he were a skilled Legilimens, to tap into that confusing mind belonging to his betrothed, figure out what she was thinking and feeling. To know how to influence her to do what he wanted from her. None of this fighting just to receive the smallest pieces of affection. “I must say, you make excellent points. I’ll just have to push a little harder to get what I want and eventually she’ll figure out the right thing to do.” He chuckled, shaking his head as Antonin mentioned too many blood traitors. His mind always goes to too many people just in this school alone, one being someone who was once part of his betrothed’s family. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s my plan. We need fewer blood traitors in the world and I believe that the Black family does deserve some restoration after their incident.”

The night was burned into her memory. No amount of alcohol could’ve wiped it from her thoughts. That faint blush that crept against cheekbones whenever she thought of him. How close he’d gotten for the sake of simply doing so. How he wanted to know her, among all the rumors that reigned free about her sisters, her family. How she felt the happy and welcomed shivers fall down her spine when he said her name. An abbreviated, simply wonderful way to say her name. Dromeda. Even if her fiancée stood before her, Andromeda smiled when she gripped his jacket. That he needn’t know it was the muggle boy where her mind rang free and clear. How maybe her intoxication spun her smile. How she could hear him saying it. No, it wasn’t a crush, it was too soon to be so silly. But he’d been gentle, soft. In a world that had been so rough. Tell her what she wanted, who to love, who to cherish. Who to call a friend and who to label a foe—Andromeda simply wanted something all her own. She wanted to know Ted Tonks. Gaze connected finally with Rod, as she bit down on her lip. And he has to never find out. She thought. That if she could chance such a thing, just learn something from someone totally unlike her world, her circle. She wanted something different, while she still had the chance. You lost the ring? “Yes—“ Andromeda nodded vigorously, wiggling her fingers to show him that the ring was happily back in place. “Funnily enough, Mary Macdonald found it just as I was about to walk down here, thankfully. It must’ve slipped off, I think it’s still a bit big.” Or Andromeda already thinness was sinking even more. Perhaps it was stress.

She was ecstatic, that kind that didn’t come easily to the witch, and the alcohol was a feat. “I drank with Cissy all night.” But she knew when a lie would’ve been boasted well enough. “I don’t want to get down,” She swatted his hand away, the chime of her laugh ringing free, defiant as Bellatrix to do what she wanted when she wanted. “Don’t be so sour Rod, it was a party. You’re supposed to have fun!” But even her tumble had feet planted on the ground, using the table where she’d planted her shoes to steady herself. The night was good, it was happy—but he looked angry. Let down. Sobriety almost sunk into her slightly, eyes widening when he began to go off. Her mouth opened, closed, speechless. He was upset? “I’m—I’m sorry,” She shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. That guilt hit her like cold water, trying to regain her footing on fumbling steps. “We—we fought, and I thought the last person you’d want to see was me.” No. Not… entirely the truth. Andromeda didn’t make the effort to seek him out, taking the escape and simply calling it a win to run. She wasn’t going to admit to that either. Eyes searched his, one foot back to balance her. “I don’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” There it was: defeat. Worn like some familiar dress she had shed for one night, only to come back and put it on once more. “I don’t—“ but she wouldn’t look at him. “What do you want me to do, Rod? I’ll make it up at the next dance, it’s not like we can go back now when the Ball is over!”

At the mention of Mary MacDonald, a flicker of anger flashed through him but with an even breath in and out, Rod filed the name away instead of saying anything. The thought of a mudblood touching the ring meant for his betrothed’s finger made anger fill him, he clenched his jaw for a moment before shaking his head. “And do you not find it odd that it would fall out of your hand and into a mudblood’s instead? Are you sure she did not mean to take it from you?” Was she too drunk to realize? Or is Andromeda soft the way that her cousin is, feeling the same sentiments for those she should deem filth? It was in that moment that Rod had to wonder if his growing affections for Andromeda were getting in the way. He would need to keep a watchful eye on her, be near her as much as he could try, almost cursing himself at the thoughts of classes he won’t be able to attend with her. Rodolphus couldn’t lose Andromeda. Not the way she and her family had lost their disgraceful son and cousin in Sirius. 

Rod pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from Andromeda after going off on her. He hadn’t meant to speak so much, to let every little detail of how he felt out but he felt it. He blamed her for feeling it. It’s as if she brings this out of him, these feelings he’s not yet accustomed to and couldn’t control the way that he had before. As she apologized, as she brought up their fight, he found himself clenching his teeth. “We may have fought but I thought I would give you enough time to cool down. I told you that I wanted to spend the evening with you.” What do you want me to do? He thought about it, as she went on, saying the ball is over. He could have kept arguing, he could have kept playing with her guilt and making her feel worse for having spent the whole night away from him. When this was supposed to be their night, the night people will finally see that they are going to be married. That they’re together. Rod reached out, wanting to take her hand in his, mulling over what he should do next. “I suppose that this is your way of spending the end of the night with you so you could make it up to me now.”