Rodolphus climaxed softly with his arms wrapped around the woman that wasn't his wife. Although she shared the same traits like the same dark hair except hers wasn't wild and crazy like his wife's, but sleek and kept up in a curly Greek bun, that smelled like an adulteration of fall air and her delicate perfume. He rested himself on top of her, until he caught his breath. She giggled and wrapped her pale arms around him, gliding her long red nails up and down his bare back. He was so weak and tired he didn't know where he was going to gather the strength to meet his wife for another muggle hunting. He couldn't handle her probing questions or her dagger glares.
"You're rougher than usual." The woman said into his ear and unwrapped her legs from his waist. Her voice was as soft as velvet, but sharp as a knife. "I think you're angry."
He didn't say anything. Instead he pulled himself off of her and grabbed his pants off the footboard of the bed and slid them on. He glanced at her to see her pull her red dress past her butt and lit a cigarette. A silvery eye looked at him up and down as she wrapped her smeared red lips around her cigarette and took another drag and exhaled leaving silver smoke to linger in the room.
"You're not happy are you?" she asked.
"Content." He said, sliding his boots on one by one, wishing he didn't have to go on a muggle hunt so he could sleep for an hour or two.
"That's not content written on your face, love." She said. "I know men, and that was an angry fuck, not a content one."
"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" he agreed, as he buttoned up his shirt. He threw on his cloak in silence and fixed himself a drink of firewhiskey on her davenport.
"Roddy," she said, through a chuckle. The same nickname his wife called him. "You can talk to me. You think you can hide your emotions from me?"
"No." he said.
"Please, stop being short with me, love."
"Why?"
"How long have we been doing this?"
"Too long."
"We can be honest with each other. You're not happy are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"That's better."
He downed the glass of firewhiskey and slammed the glass on the table. "I'm not like her." he heard her mutter. He turned on his heel and walked toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. One hand glided up and down her leg and back to her thigh.
"No, you're not." He said, his brown eyes glancing at her silvery ones. "You both are alike, but you have a heart, Ava."
Her lips curled into a smile. "Good night, Rod." She said through a smile. "I'll see you next week."
He stood up, leaned toward her and kissed her lips quickly and pinched her cheek before departing with a loud pop.
