If I had one wish, I would wish for you.
For you to feel what I feel, see what I saw, try the way I tried.
But most of all, to regret the way you threw us away and to give us another chance.
- Unknown
Rodolphus Lestrange sighed contentedly as his calloused fingertips toyed with the frayed black string that hung from his neck. He leaned back allowing his body to sink into the soft leather of his worn couch. He placed his hands behind his head and kicked out his long legs, resting them atop an ottoman. He raised his wine glass and gave it a twirl. The dark red liquid swirling around the glass captivated him. He rose it to his lips and took a whiff of the delectable aroma before taking a sip. His tongue darted forward capturing an excess drop on his bottom lip. I cannot believe it's been a year. He closed his eyes embracing the warmth of his roaring fireplace.
Rodolphus steadied his broomstick inching it closer to the person he believed was Harry Potter. He perched on the broomstick, his arms around his niece's waist, oblivious to his looming presence. His wand slid down his arm into his waiting hand. A curse formed on his lips as he began to flick his wand in Harry's direction. A red light from the tip of Nymphadora's wand got to him first. Her curse hit him square in the chest and he rolled off his broomstick. By the grace of Merlin, he managed not to fall immediately. His fingertips curled around the broomstick as he tried to get himself upright. He grimaced watching the wind carry his wand away. Seconds later, his aching muscles could no longer support his weight. He closed his eyes, let go of the broomstick and cast a silent Arresto Momentum. On his descent, he tugged on the black string tied around his neck.
"Master? Master Rodolphus?" a faint, high-pitched voice called out to him. A wave of relief hit him as he stared into the large eyes of his ever-loyal house elf, Trip. Tears trickled down Trip's face as he watched his master slowly come back to life. He wrapped his arms around the bruised and broken man and apparated him to safety.
Trip, being exceptionally skilled in the Healing Arts, nursed his master back to health in three days. Rodolphus, pleased with his elf's work, had not felt more alive. He relished in the elf's care letting no morsel of food he prepared or caring touch he bestowed go to waste. It went without saying that it had been years since anyone took care of Rodolphus so thoroughly. He vowed to repay Trip for his loyalty and generosity. In the coming days, the pair transformed the dilapidated Lestrange Manor back to its original, glorious state.
Upon further reflection, Rodolphus decided to embrace his Slytherin roots and do what was best for him. He decided that he would stay in hiding in his newly renovated unplottable manor. Furthermore, he no longer wished to execute the Dark Lord's bidding and serve under his command. His association with the man only brought him more harm than good. His loyalty earned him nothing… nothing but a lengthy stint in Azkaban where the Dementors fed on whatever was left of his shattered soul. The Dark Lord took everything from him – his innocence, his sense, his passion and most importantly, his wife. Besides, everyone assumed he had died. The Order would, no doubt, count him as one of their kills. No one would come looking for him either. Neither the Dark Lord nor his wife cared enough to look for his body. He was sure of that.
And so, Rodolphus spent the next year in his manor living a quiet and comfortable life. A part of him felt a bit guilty that he hadn't participated in the Battle of Hogwarts. But, in the end, he valued his life and freedom more. He combed through the names of the dead published in the Daily Prophet the following day to see what had happened to the two he cared about the most. Rabastan was among the missing. Part of him hoped that his beloved younger brother had survived and was safe somewhere. His wife had died at the hands of the Weasley matriarch. A few chuckles escaped him as he pondered the irony of the situation. A moment later, he was overcome with tears, which he continued to shed as the evening passed. He could not fathom why he cried so hard for a woman who did not care for him at all. Alas, that was the downside of love.
Rodolphus opened his eyes, refreshed from his nap. He extinguished the light from the fireplace with the flick of his wand. His stomach growled and he made his way to the kitchen. He gave Trip a much-needed night off since he wanted to prepare his own dinner. He picked up cooking quickly and enjoyed the warmth and homey feel of his kitchen. He glided around opening various cupboards and drawers with ease as he set out the ingredients and tools to prepare his meal. Tonight he'd prepare her favorite meal, a meal he so longed to prepare for her if she would have let him.
An hour later, Rodolphus sighed and licked his lips as he inhaled the aroma of the meal before him, which consisted of a baby roasted chicken over a bed of mixed vegetables. A dark chocolate pot de crème with a dollop of crème fraîche awaited him for dessert. It was a simple yet succulent meal. He took a bite of the chicken, cooked perfectly with a crispy skin and a tender, juicy inside. A small moan escaped his parted lips. As he ate, he gave into another wistful fantasy that he harbored about the life he so desperately wanted.
He'd be seated at the same table. The same meal would grace the ebony tabletop. However, he'd have a family beside him. His wife, his darling Bella, would love him as much as he loved her, if not more. She'd bore him two children, a son first then a daughter. Like her, they'd be named after the brightest stars. They'd dote upon their children providing them with everything and anything they could ever want. Their children would love them deeply in return. He smiled envisioning their barking dog, a big black lab. He too would be named after the stars. He'd sit at their feet whimpering and begging for scraps from their meal. Of course, Rodolphus would slip him a few pieces of chicken. After all, their loyal guard dog deserved reward for keeping them safe. Sure, Bella claimed to detest dogs, calling them feral beasts, but he'd show her otherwise and she'd eventually come around.
A clap of thunder startled him and he almost fell off his chair. He looked out the small window above the sink. Several jagged lightning bolts filled the night sky. Lightening bolts. He briefly wondered how Mr. Potter had fared in the past year. He gave the boy credit for finally banishing the Dark Lord. He rose his glass of wine to his lips in a silent toast. He was so enthralled by the spectacular thunderstorm that he did not hear the front door open.
The door slammed shut. He jumped out of his seat. Only Rabastan and Bellatrix had access to the manor. A huge smile erupted on his face as he realized his brother was home. He poured a glass of wine and raced into the living room.
"Rabastan!" he cried as he entered the room. His mouth dropped open and the wine glass fell to the ground staining the cream-colored rug.
"Bella?" he whispered, his eyes widening at the sight of his estranged wife standing in the entryway. Her black dress, tattered and soiled, clung to her extremely emaciated frame. Cuts, burns and bruises decorated her once perfect pale skin. A set of teeth marks on her exposed long, left leg alarmed him. Her unruly ebony curls stuck to the sides of her pale face. Tears spilled from her dark eyes. He pretended that the tears were raindrops. His beautiful warrior never cried.
She opened her mouth and moved her lips, but no sound escaped. She passed out and fell to the floor with a hard thud.
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. His trembling fingertips touched her neck feeling for her pulse. He sighed, thankful to have found it beating very faintly. He snapped his fingers and shouted for her house elf, Dolly. Dolly immediately appeared at his side, tears springing to her eyes upon seeing her long-lost mistress in his arms. He extended his hand to the elf and apparated them to the master bathroom.
He hoisted Bellatrix upright keeping his hands wrapped around her upper arms in case she swayed. Dolly carefully removed each tattered piece of clothing. She tended to Bellatrix's bruises, breaks and burns. Rodolphus cast a diagnostic charm to assess her internal injuries, of which there were many. He sent Dolly away to fetch the proper potions and to prepare the master bedroom for her recovery. The elf scampered away, turning around once to cast a glance at her mistress.
Rodolphus knew that he should have tasked Dolly with bathing Bellatrix. However, he gave into his temptation. Besides, she could not harm him in her weak state. He levitated her over the bathtub as he fumbled with the temperature setting it to her preference. He filled the tub with her favorite lavender soap and gently lowered her.
Bellatrix hissed loudly as the hot water touched her soiled skin. Rodolphus flinched immediately regretting his decision. He briefly thought to leave the room. Bellatrix's head fell forward. He secured her messy curls and tied them in a bun at the top of her head. He could count each vertebra protruding out of her bony spine. Scars from brutal lashings administered by the Dark Lord for her failure to fulfill certain tasks covered her lower back. He frowned recalling how she wore the scars with pride, as if it was an honor to bear his lashings.
He summoned a small stool and took a seat behind her. He dipped a washcloth into the warm water and began to rub the dirt and grime off her body. He washed and wiped for what seemed like ages. She remained still, her chest rising and falling in steady intervals. Her pale skin, now pink, appeared before him. Her emaciated figure alarmed him. She had always been slender, but this was something else. He wondered when she had last eaten. However, he didn't want to feed her too much too soon for fear her body would reject the nutrients.
Oh no... her front! Once again, he knew he should summon Dolly to complete the task for him. But, he gave into his temptation. He took a seat at the edge of the tub, rolled up his trouser legs and put his feet in. He leaned forward pulling a leg toward him. He proceeded to wash her limbs before attending to her chest, which remained voluptuous despite her time on the run.
He shifted his hips away from her view surprised at how she still aroused him despite her state. He dipped the washcloth in the water and ran it over her breasts. He used the cloth to move her bird skull pendent so he could wash the skin between them. Unbeknownst to Rodolphus, Bellatrix's dark orbs opened slightly. She kept still as the coarse cloth grazed over her rosy nipples.
She slowly lifted her head focusing on his shins. He lifted his head in time for her eyes to lock into his. Rodolphus flinched as he felt her gaze bore into him instead of through him. The gaze lasted a mere second, but it felt like eternity. Her head fell down and he finished washing her as fast as he could. He offered his hand to her to help her out of the tub. He focused on her feet as he dried her body. He was far too afraid to look at anything else. Once again, she remained perfectly still and only moved as he helped her into a deep purple silk nightgown.
Standing up so suddenly stained her. She toppled over and fell into Rodolphus' chest. He swiftly picked her up and carried her to the master bed. He laid her down gently, tucking her in between the down comforter and satin sheets. She fell asleep immediately. He smiled softly as he pulled the comforter to her neck. She'd make it.
"I will be away for at least three days," Rodolphus whispered to Dolly, not wanting to wake up Trip who was sleeping beside her. Dolly opened her wide eyes and nodded at him. "You are to take care of your mistress and do everything in your power to make sure she is safe and happy," he began. Dolly nodded again.
"Please inform me of her condition daily. You know how to contact me if something serious happens and you need help, right?" he asked. The ever-loyal elf nodded vigorously producing a frayed black string from the pocket of her nightgown.