Author's Notes: This collection is based around Rodolphus Lestrange and will depict fifteen moments in his life, each with a different pairing and a different dialogue prompt. It is my entry for the March Event: Creative Collection at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments).

The pairings include romantic, familial and friendship, among others. Both the pairing and the dialogue can be found at the bottom, so as not to spoil anything. This collection is not chronologically ordered.

Reviews are absolutely craved for. Enjoy

Specific warnings: crude language; mentions of torture and murder

The Voice of Conscience

Lestrange Castle, October 1975

The brothers were seated by the fire, tumblers of fire whiskey in their hands, both watching the amber liquid dance over the rocks of ice with the tones of the flames. The room was dimly lit, the fireplace being the source of most of the light.

They were exhausted upon their return. An entire day spent hunting down an Auror and his family, most of the night spent torturing the said Auror by torturing his Mudblood wife and making his children scream. Two fleeting moments to kill them all and cast a skull and a serpent in the sky. Bellatrix had been with them too, but as soon as their mission was complete, barely having set foot past the doorstep, her Dark Mark had burned the inky black that signalled their Master's call.

"Sorry, Dolph, I have to leave," she had told Rodolphus, with a peck on his cheek, "but go ahead and celebrate with Rabastan." She had smiled to him, still very much high from the magic flowing through her veins. She had this way of looking her most beautiful when she was casting Unforgivables, there was a glee to her face, a bliss. Rodolphus had hoped to enjoy that sight for the remainder of the night. Hoped to whisper how beautiful she looked bathed by the red light if her Crucio while kissing down her neck and collarbone.

Their Master knows that she would be beautiful that night too, of course. And had decided to keep that sight all to himself. Dark Lords don't like sharing. Rodolphus fears the day his Lord will decide not to share her body anymore, the day he will be banished from ever touching her supple flesh again. It will come, he knows. And she will obey him blindly, relinquishing the last threads of whatever love she still feels for him.

"When are you going to realize that she doesn't love you?"

With an angry huff, he turned his eyes to the man before him, content in the opposing armchair. His brother had always had a way to tell what he was thinking about. It's a connection they've shared since they were children. One that he particularly resents that night.

"Leave it be, Bast. My marriage is my own," he said, with a warning in his eyes, "and you don't get a say in it until you're a husband yourself." He had sat straighter at that, making it crystal clear that he was not too tired to avoid a fight.

"I see you sit there, in that armchair, every day, brooding about her. Don't deny it, Rod, I can tell when it's her in your mind," it was Rabastan's turn to sit up and look his brother in the eye, "and it is almost always her. She doesn't belong to you anymore, she was taken. Get over it! Find a bloody mistress and rid your mind of her. You'll go insane if you don't."

Rabastan rose from his seat with his last words, pacing a bit and chugging the fire whiskey down his throat. Rodolphus couldn't blame him. They were supposed to be celebrating, for Merlin's sake. They had rid the Dark Lord's path to glory of yet another foe, eliminating sullied blood in the process, spreading terror too. They would be rewarded. They would be praised at the following meeting. And all he could do was drink fire whiskey and muse about his unfaithful wife.

A deranged laughter broke the seal of his lips, and he tossed his head back, under the spiteful glance of his younger brother.

No, not unfaithful. Dear Bella is very faithful indeed, just not to you, you miserable sod.

"For fuck's sake, Rod! Look at you!" Rabastan snarled at him, spitting his words as if they were weapons, "Getting drunk over something you can't have. Your wife was chosen by the Dark Lord to be his concubine and you can't do anything to stop it. So rise to it. Own it. You married the most desirable bride of our entire generation. So damn desirable that the Dark Lord himself took her! I get it-"

"Do you now, Rabastan? Do you? No, little brother," the glint in Rodolphus eyes had gone from miserable to vicious in an instant, "you do not get it. All you know of witches comes from rumps here and there. I love her. I love her and I'm not allowed to be loved back because the Dark Lord-"

Rabastan had moved quickly then, jumping him, knocking the armchair to the floor and landing on his brother's chest. His left hand was pressed to Rodolphus mouth, his right hand held his wand at his sibling's neck. He kept both hands there until he was sure no more words would come from his brother's mouth.

"Don't ever say what you are thinking right now, Rodolphus, ever. It's treason, it will get you killed. I can knock the senses out of you," he said, pressing the tip of his wand until the skin beneath it had no option but to be bruised, "and keep you from talking, but I cannot shield your mind for you." He had uncovered Rodolphus mouth at that, and dropped his head to plant a fraternal kiss on his forehead.

Rodolphus pushed his brother off him. He was right and it stung badly that he was. There was a time when Bella and he had a chance at a happy marriage, an agreeable one at the very least. She still allowed him her body, willingly, though she had stopped whispering his name in the heights of pleasure and no longer wished to look him in the eye during it. But her heart, her mind, was completely out of reach now. An unobtainable goal to her husband.

"What do you say to some proper celebration?" Rabastan was standing above him, extending his hand, "I know all the good places to have those rumps you so despise. It will clear your mind, I tell you."

Maybe Rabastan was right about this too. Maybe he should start by craving a different body. Yes, another body, one not made of pale expanses of pure flesh stretched over dark curls, one not laced with blue veins in all its soft places, one that craved him and not someone else.

He took the hand of his brother and got up with his help, like so many times before. Bella was gone, but Rabastan would always remain. So the brothers walked to the Apparition Point outside, turned right, and were gone together.

Author's Notes: Pairing – Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange; Angsty Dialogue - When are you going to realize that he/she doesn't love you?