Rodolphus Lestrange was good-looking and popular, even for a Slytherin. Rodolphus' easygoing nature and keen intellect, not to mention his wry sense of humor, meant that he was friends, or at least friendly, with students from every House.
He didn't take the typical Pureblood stance against Muggles and Muggle-borns – quite frankly, he didn't see how it had anything to do with him, so he didn't concern himself with the anti-Muggle fervor that so many of his peers did.
"But don't you hate Muggles?" the pretty fifth-year asked him again, refusing to let it drop.
He humored her. "Of course, Bella."
One spring evening, Rodolphus was out practicing Quidditch. Since he'd become Chaser, Slytherin hadn't lost a game. He was sweaty and exhausted as the group trooped up to the changing rooms, laughing and joking boisterously.
"Well well, if it isn't our lovely Quidditch team!" a drawling voice announced as a group of shadows moved closer. "Why don't you boys join us for a dip in the lake? You look like you need to cool off."
"It's about to be curfew," he said.
The perfect lips pouted. "Are the wittle babies afwaid? Come with us!"
Shrugging, he answered, "Of course, Bella."
"Rodolphus. You scored ten OWLs." It was a statement, not a question.
"Good morning to you, too," he drawled. The bundle of energy wrapped in too-tight robes sat herself down across from where he was eating his breakfast and eyed him appraisingly.
"Care to help me study for Transfiguration? It's not my strongest subject."
"Why ask me?" He was genuinely curious. She'd never singled him out before. She masked her surprise at his question well.
"Rosier tells me you're quite good at it."
"I am."
"I would, naturally...reward you for your efforts." She licks her lips slowly.
"Of course, Bella."
At the start of his seventh year, he was Head Boy, taking eight NEWT subjects, and Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team. Rodolphus was determined to enjoy his last year at Hogwarts.
It was during his rounds as Head Boy that he came across the sight of Bellatrix and her followers (he wasn't delusional enough to think that she considered them friends) torturing a second-year.
"What's going on here?" he demanded as the frightened child used the distraction to scamper off.
"We're just practicing for Defense class," their leader said innocently. Her clearly terrified minions nodded in agreement.
"Of course, Bella."
He was in the wrong corridor at the wrong time.
"Mr. Lestrange, Miss Black, what is the meaning of this?" Old Sluggy's face was red with anger, and Rodolphus looked down when he felt the bottle of something slide into his hand.
"I was just trying to convince Rodolphus that we shouldn't steal from your personal supplies, Professor." The lie rolled off her tongue, and she batted those magically-augmented eyelashes with all the finesse of a rampaging bull. Still, it worked.
"Mr. Lestrange, how disappointing. Detention every night this week, I believe."
"Our little secret?" she whispered.
"Of course, Bella."
"...and that is precisely why Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed to practice magic!" She strode up and down the common room, pounding her fist into her hand, her curls practically vibrating with her passion. He barely looked up from his schoolwork, but he heard noises of assent from the others gathered around, eating up her words like starved bowtruckles.
"Isn't that right, Lestrange?" Her tone challenged him to defy her, challenged him to renounce her Pureblood beliefs – all of their Pureblood beliefs. She knew he disagreed; she pressed him anyway. The others were watching with barely suppressed glee.
"Of course, Bella."
He wasn't sure when the overly aggressive Bellatrix Black had become so seductive, but he knew that he wanted her. She was fiery where he was conservative; she pushed boundaries while he remained steady. He didn't particularly care if she returned his feelings – he doubted she would ever feel something as unsophisticated as love. He would take whatever she was willing to gift him.
"Rodolphus, I need some...assistance," she whispered. "My parents insist I marry another Pureblood, but they're all so..." He knew what she was hinting at, and there was only one answer he could give.
"Of course, Bella."
As his graduation day neared, he noticed his fiancée was less interested in finishing her schooling. He knew what preoccupied her every waking moment, and he wondered how far she would let her adoration take her. In just a few months, they'd be married; at least then he would have some claim on the whirling inferno.
When she came to him, wild-eyed and delighted, and told him what she wanted to do – what she wanted them to do, as soon as they were newlyweds – he couldn't turn her down. How much trouble could one tattoo really mean?
"Of course, Bella."
A/N: Written for the wonderful WeasleySeeker's "When they were at Hogwarts" competition on HPFC. I was gifted with Rodolphus...and a complete lack of inspiration. However, I pride myself on accepting whichever challenge I'm given without switching (that IS the point of a challenge, yes?) so after procrastinating and procrastinating, I came up with this. I figured a set of drabbles might be easier for me to work out than just a regular one-shot, but I must report that these were just as difficult! Anyway, sorry WeasleySeeker, I completely ignored the 'clue' prompt you gave me. :)
I'm not JK Rowling...but when I think of Rodolphus, I envision a friendly sort of bloke who was just so enthralled by Bellatrix that he did whatever she wanted. I hope that came across in this story.