A.N: Written for the Hunger Games challenge on the HPFC with the prompt Mockingjay – Write about the Dark Mark.
oOo
Rodoplus buried his face into the creamy white neck of the girl beneath him. She was a young, inexperienced thing, no older than nineteen, and she had typically orange-red hair and a litter of freckles across her face and collar bone. They were both naked and writhing together in her bed, miles and miles away from his home in London.
"Hmm…" Rodolphus groaned as he bit into the flesh of her neck. "I've always loved Scotland." He had missed the pleasures and escapes he could find in a woman, while he was trapped in Azkaban. In fact, he had missed before he was imprisoned, too. Bellatrix had made love to him a total of three times during their entire marriage. Even then, he was sure she didn't really want to. Bellatrix's heart and life was solely for the Dark Lord – she spared barely a second glance for him. So he didn't really feel bad about cheating on her with the pretty, red-haired Scottish muggle below him.
He could feel his release building up, slowly. She clawed his back desperately, he was so close…
Suddenly, a searing sensation of burning rippled across his arm, and he jerked back into a sitting position. She sat up too, her face flushed, staring at the mark on his arm, which she thought was just a tattoo. She was mesmerized to see that the tattoo of a snake and a skull was coiling up and down his arm, like a motion picture. "Fucking hell," Rodolphus hissed through gritted teeth, and he stood up, dressing quickly. "Every single time." He stood up, and started rooting through the debris on her bedroom floor for his shoes. The girl – whose name he couldn't remember – was scrambling for her clothes, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in waves.
"Are you leavin'?" she asked, her voice thick with the Scottish accent.
"'Fraid so," he replied gruffly. "But we will continue this. I promise."
"Is it the wife? Is she callin' you back?" She asked, her bright blue eyes narrowing. Rodolphus rolled his eyes. He often wondered why Bellatrix had never embodied these annoying, jealous traits of most women – that was probably what had enticed him to her.
"No. My boss, actually. I'm sorry, what was your name?"
"Jane," the red haired girl replied quietly. "You were makin' love to me and you don't know my name?"
Rodolphus gritted his teeth. He hoped she wouldn't continue to irritate him, because he didn't really want to kill her. It was always a shame to have to murder the ones that felt so good and co-operated so well with him. "Jane, I will be back soon, that I can assure you," he turned on his heel once he was dressed, and marched out of her room, and then out of her house, leaving her sitting up in bed, dumbfounded. He trudged through the mud until he was a safe distance away, and muttered angrily to himself. It was always like this. The same thing – every time he was doing something he really didn't want to break off from. The Dark Lord always called them at the worst possible times.
As Rodolphus looked down at the writhing mark on his forearm, he knew there was nothing he could do about the situation. He had made his decision when he married Bellatrix, and she insisted he join her as a Death Eater. He had taken his vows and taken his branding, knowing full well of the consequences. All he could do was appear in front of the Dark Lord, whenever his presence was requested. He turned on the spot and vanished into thin air, just as Jane came tearing out of the house, her red hair glowing in the moonlight.
He arrived in his spot in a circle of cloaked figures, with the Dark Lord standing in the middle of them all. He could see Bellatrix's hooded eyelids under the mask to the left of him.
"So you finally arrived," she hissed at him under her breath, and then paused. "You stink of your whores."
Rodolphus only folded his arms and looked straightforward. He could still feel his dark mark wriggling on his arm, like there was a real snake inside his skin, and momentarily wished he had not made these decisions.
oOo