A/N The characterisation of Rodolphus Lestrange (and in part those of some other characters as well) is based on a now defunct marauder-era role-playing game, Primordium Caligis. Hopefully it will still make sense outside of that context! Thanks to all the brilliant people who played with me there while it lasted. I still RP, but not as Rodolphus anymore. (See pure reign and king cool on greatestjournal, and gigglylavender on livejournal.) Oh, and I'm assuming Roddy and Bella and a bunch of others managed to break out of Azkaban again after OotP, obviously. Please review!

Chapter 1: Reprimand

They stood in a circle around their Lord, hoods up and heads down. Rodolphus snuck a look at Bellatrix, across the circle from him. He knew that the Dark Lord would know he did so, and he knew that she would not return the look, but he did it all the same. He could not see her face properly in the shadows, but he saw the shape of her shoulders, rigid, and he longed to massage the tension from them, as he had many times before. Perhaps later. Now, Lord Voldemort was about to speak.

The circle was silent even before, but when the Dark Lord drew breath, a deeper hush seemed to fall. No breathing, no movement, no sounds, were to be allowed to interrupt his address. All eyes on the floor, but all minds were on him. After a moment, he began.

'Disappointing,' he hissed. 'Very much so. It seems you are easily outwitted these days. Perhaps it was all that time in Azkaban has made you soft.' His tone softened then, as if to reiterate the point. He turned to look at one of them in particular. 'Bellatrix.'

She bent on her knee before him, trembling, and raised her head slightly, her hood falling back. 'My Lord,' she said deferentially. 'I do not know how they predicted we would be there tonight.'

Rodolphus looked down at his wife. It never ceased to amaze him to watch her in the Dark Lord's presence. Usually so headstrong, she bowed to no man but her master. No other man – not even, or perhaps especially not her husband – could instil obedience in her. Still she trembled before him, after all these years.

Rodolphus remembered – o gloroius days! – their wedding day. She had laughed at the wedding vows. In the ceremony he saw her cross her fingers as she said 'to obey' – and she had winked at him as she did so. The meaning was clear – she obeyed no-one but the Dark Lord and herself – and he loved her all the more for it.

Rodolphus remembered, too, their capture after the Dark Lord's downfall, and their trial. He saw her now in his mind's eye, energy crackling from her like electrcity as she vehemently declared her continued support for her master. Her eyes had flashed lightning and he and the others had been swept up by the full force of her personality. After that, not one of them in the room even considered making excuses to avoid prison, as some had done. He had never wanted her so badly as he did then. Ironic, when it was that same confession that would keep them apart for so many years.

But she had been right. Her Lord has rescued her, and the rest of them as well, and now glory was near at hand. A spirit of optimism held the Death-eaters. This time, they would not be beaten. Dumbledore had been destryoed, the death-toll was high, the ministry was hopeless, and the Potter boy – Lord Voldemort knew how to destroy him. Why else would Dumbledore have been so protective of the boy if not because he was weak?

They could afford a few setbacks, such as happened today. But Lord Voldemort did not like setbacks.

'Severus Snape was of the opinion that I should not have let you head this mission,' he continued. 'He said you had failed too many times before. What say you to this, my Bella?'

Her brow darkened. 'Unlike some, I follow your instructions to the letter, my Lord. I do not consider this a failure.'

Voldemort smiled, and there was humour in his look, and yet it lacked something. It was a private smile, with no trace of fellowship. 'There is long enmity between you two,' he stated blandly. 'You say he is disloyal, he says you are incompetent. Just so. You both seek to draw attention to your strengths, by pointing to another's weakness. But it does not multiply your strength to do so. It merely creates new weakness.'

She bowed her head again. 'I am sorry, my Lord.'

'Ah, but you are right, my Bella.' He motioned for her to stand up, which she did, stepping closer into the circle as she did so. 'Severus did not have your faith, or your vision,' he continued. 'He thought that I was dead. Dead! He was all ready to follow another master, if it should arise thus.' Voldemort shot a steel look across the circle to where another robed death eater – presumably Snape – stood. 'But I have forgiven him. You, on the other hand-' he turned to look back at the woman before him, and his voice softened again. 'You did not doubt me for a moment. You would die rather than follow another. Is that not so?' She nodded, and he continued. 'You are my most loyal follower.' She flushed with pride at his words. 'And I am grateful, Bella. Do not doubt it. I have given you great opportunities.'

'I – I am honoured, sir,' she choked, overcome. 'I live only to serve you.'

'Indeed,' he replied. 'But I have not finished.'

He held up a boney finger and the silence dropped still deeper. Rodolphus felt his heart rise up into his throat. So it was to be crucio, then. He hated to see his lady crucioed. It did not seem right, somehow. She had showed him the beauty of that spell, for once he had thought it merely a tool. There could be poetry in pain, if it were done well. He knew that now. A heart such as Rodolphus' was easily swayed by poetry. But there was no poetry when she suffered. There was no light in the world when she was not happy. He had seen his lady undergo crucio twice, and each time he had had to stand on and watch, wishing that it could be his pain and not hers. For he knew she would not suffer watching him in pain as he did watching her.

The secret to surviving Azkaban was to hold onto one thing, and one thing alone. The dementors spun a web of negativity, there was no chance of hope in such a climate, only of single-mindedness. Sirius Black had thought I am innocent. Bellatrix had thought My Lord. Rodolphus had thought My Lady.

And here his lady was before him, trembling slightly. He sensed it rather than saw it. Familiarity lent itself to easy legilimency. Lord Voldemort must sense it too. He sensed everything.

'You follow my instructions to the letter, as you say. When I first returned, this was what I needed most. But not now.' Lord Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. 'The situation becomes more complex. Now, I need followers who can adapt to the situation as it arises. Followers with creativity.' He pointed at her. 'You, Bella, have failed to adapt to changing circumstances.' He was silent then and lowered his hand, but he continued to gaze at her. Bellatrix, in turn, gazed up at him, and her eyes widened. With a sickening feeling, Rodolphus realised they were still communicating, privately. What Bellatrix saw, he could not tell, but he saw her face becoming more horrified, and he winced.

When Lord Voldemort spoke aloud again, his voice was softer than ever before. 'I will have to make an example of you, Bella. You see that, don't you? I am sorry.'

In a flash, Rodolphus realised what was about to happen, but he was too shocked to move, to speak, to even think. He could only stand there, motionless, powerless, like Bellatrix herself, as the Dark Lord raised his wand lazily and said: 'Avada Kedavra.'