Rodolphus was sipping on some of the Wizarding World's best Firewhisky (or maybe he was drinking from the bottle, he was too drunk to notice) when his wife apparated back into their Manor. She was grinning from ear to ear - one of her more frightening expressions - and her robes were splattered with blood. She took one look at him and burst into laughter. It wasn't soft at all to the ears, and Rodolphus simply stared back at her.
There was the faint sound of a clock ticking away the seconds in the silence that followed her little outburst, and Bellatrix seemed to realize that her husband was partially unaware of everything. He didn't seem to register what was happening as she stepped towards him, and only when she struck him across the cheek did he react.
"Who do you think you are?" He bellowed, his words made ineffective due to his slurred tone. "Don't you ever do that again!"
"Or what?" The words fell easily from her mouth, and her head was momentarily thrown back. Laughter once again escaped her. It stopped at once when she felt a finger on her chin, forcing it down and making her stare into his hardened eyes. She growled fiercely. "It's not my fault you're recovering-"
"Stop talking." Rodolphus growled at her.
"From a measly little curse your niece hit you with," A mad giggle escaped her again, and she wriggled out of his grasp.
"Crucio."
Rodolphus had somehow gotten his wand out without her noticing - silly, silly Bella -, and Bellatrix was suddenly on the ground, writhing in pain. The smile that remained on her face despite all the pain detracted from the image. He let the spell fade away, and stood over his wife. "Don't you ever speak to me that way again, do you hear me?"
His voice was hard and she listened as his shoes clicked away, the irregular sounds of his footsteps echoing around the spacious Manor.
She decided to test her luck, grinning madly. "Poor, poor Rodolphus Lestrange. Hurt and stopped by a little curse by a half-breed. You should have killed her. Bet you didn't have the guts. You came up a lot in conversation today, at the meeting. Our Lord was most displeased with the results of our supposed ambush." Her legs shook as she stood up - still shaky from the curse -, but she moved to where he was standing. His hand and knuckles were white, showing the vice-like grip he held on his cane.
"He's going to punish you, you know."
Rodolphus turned slowly, taking in her slightly out-of-it appearance. He decided not to answer her. Besides, she still hadn't cleaned her robes. "You're filthy."
She simply giggled again, taking her wand out and pointing it at his throat. Then, in all seriousness, she said, "And if you ever threaten me again, don't forget what I did to the Longbottoms."
He sneered, not budging or showing fright. What was there to be afraid of, after all? "Don't you forget that I helped."
Bellatrix opened and closed her mouth, a mutinous expression crossing her face.
"What else, pray tell, happened at the meeting today?" He finally said, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom from her murderous expression.
"Our lord – rightfully – punished me for letting them get away. I still don't understand how it happened. The fuckers slipped out from under our noses."
"Oh, did he?"
He didn't care. Really, he didn't.
"Rodolphus, dear," she pulled out the word, making it sound derogatory. She propped herself up on tiptoes and mock-whispered into his ears. "He expects you there tonight."
She then turned and stalked out of the room, letting her soiled robe fall to the floor. Her nudity after shedding that one layer didn't surprise Rodolphus. She had always been more than a bit quirky. And considering what she and the Dark Lord were up to after most meetings was probably aided by her only wearing the one article of clothing. He heard her begin humming some tune he had never heard of before, and then she cackled again. The woman was well and truly crazy. But then, weren't they all. Rodolphus himself replayed her twitching at his feet, smirking and thinking that even drunk, he had managed to overpower her. She was getting too arrogant for her own good.
Rodolphus shook his head and made his way up to the bedrooms, wondering what on earth could be in store for him at this meeting. Merlin, how he hated his parents for setting this crazy marriage up. Being the servant of the Dark Lord was one thing, and there were days when he enjoyed it - killing muggles really was good stress relief. Being submissive to Bellatrix, his wife, was another thing.
Who was she to tell him what to do? But then, it was his fault for letting her affect him so much. How he hated her, and yet he envied her because the Dark Lord thought her more valuable than he. He was the more powerful of the two, except when she went on a manic rage. That was happening more and more often these days.
He wondered what had happened today that had gotten her so dirty. Was her robe saturated with muddy, dirty blood tonight?
Later in the evening, wearing his robes and mask, Rodolphus apparated to the location at which Voldemort was staying those days. His footsteps echoed once again around the high-ceilinged corridor, and he knew which room he would be expected to appear in. Voldemort was indeed waiting for him there.
Rodolphus, injured leg and all, kneeled to the ground, hiding his pain and picking up then kissing the bottom seam of his Lord's robes.
"You may rise,"
Rodolphus rose.
"I am… as you may have heard… extremely displeased by the failure… that occurred. How hard it must be to capture one boy if a team of my most skilled and loyal followers couldn't do it." There was an edge of sarcasm there that Rodolphus knew would mean punishment.
Rodolphus' eyes stayed glued to the floor, no matter how much he hated being chatsised like a child.
"You could imagine my disappointment when you weren't available at the meeting earlier today to justify your actions and beg for forgiveness."
"My lord, I was simply recovering-"
"Don't speak out of turn…" the Dark Lord's low, whispery voice sent a chill through Rodolphus, though he supressed the shiver that wanted to run down his spine. "Your wife was more than happy to step in and take the blame for you, she took your punishment; enjoys it, she does. But I'm still not done with you… not done just yet."
Rodolphus braced himself-
"Crucio."
He kept his screams in, though his blood was on fire. He was suspended in the air and his Lord's formidable power held him there. He understood that he was partly to blame for the failure, and took the punishment with no complaints.
Two rounds of Crucio later, Rodolphus' resolve was fading. He wanted so badly to scream, but knew it would displease his master.
Finally, the blinding pain was gone, and he slumped to the floor.
"My lord," he made his way on shaking hands and knees, bowing in front of Voldemort. He was unprepared when Nagini shot out from behind the Dark Lord's seat. He gasped loudly.
"I should let her have you," Voldemort whispered. "You refused direct orders to meet me, you unfaithful failure of a subject. But I'm in a good mood today, your wife was most satisfactory. Leave me, and never will you ever refuse my demands again."
He simply nodded and tried to stand. He kept his eyes on the floor, but the pain in his knee made him fall back to the ground. Bone-chilling laughter filled him with embarrassment. He crawled out, hoping that someone would find him before he passed out on the floor.
He made it out of the room and down a hallway before his ragged breathing forced him to stop. The injury on his leg was surely bleeding, and he knew that after the Crucio, he was already in a weakened state - this would not end well.
His vision swam. The last thing he saw were two stormy blue eyes full of concern.
He woke, lying in a most uncomfortable position. He had never been in this bed, in this room. Where was he?
"Oh good lord, you're awake. Thank Merlin." Narcissa Malfoy's soft voice filled his ears, and he found himself wishing his own wife were quieter, more like her sister. Then she muttered something and he felt warmth spreading across his torso. Some sort of healing spell.
Thinking all was right, he tried to sit up, but a searing pain made him groan. This was coming from a man who had gone through three rounds of a pain-inducing curse without a sound.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
Narcissa's small body sat on the bed, and he stared at her.
"Some of the curses you've survived over the years were triggered once again by the curse Nymphand-er… she hit you with. It's been touch and go for a few hours. You're lucky you weren't found by Lucius." Her innocent-looking blue eyes, though he knew she could be just as cruel as her sister, widened at what her husband finding Rodolphus might have meant.
"Now that you're awake, I can heal you."
She worked in silence for the next few hours, tending to his cuts and bruises, the shaking of his limbs from the Crucio, and his larger injuries as well. He didn't mind her fingers, they were cautious and non-demanding. He relaxed into her touch, envying Malfoy for the slightest nano-second for having such a caring and knowledgeable wife. In the end, when they stood, he looked into her eyes. He knew he looked a right mess, never really having recovered from Azkaban, and after the extensive injuries she'd had to heal... but he still smirked at her and kissed her hand.
She smiled, just a small smile, but he knew that it would give him strength. The strength to get through this war, to put up with Bella, and of course to keep up with his Lord.
"Thank you," he said, rather uncharactaristically. He wasn't usually the gentlemanly type. She nodded.
"Leave quietly so they won't find you."
He left her, not once looking back. But he left knowing she had not only healed his physical wounds, but had shown him that not everyone was pure evil, not just yet.