This is exciting, because it's the first "Death Eater" story I've written. Secretly, I've always been intrigued by Bellatrix and Rodolphus, so I figured "eh, why not?" Granted, it's not a very GOOD story, but it was worth the while to write it.
I don't own anything in the HPverse, etc. etc. etc. I write purely for my own pleasure.
It was a fine mansion, located on an isolated moor in the sprawling hills of Ireland. Unfortunately, the family that lived there was silenced – the green mark hanging overhead made sure of that fact. But where the mansion lacked in it's original owners, the new and unofficial ones, made sure that the house did not stay empty for long.
Bellatrix Lestrange looked at the master bedroom critically. The carpet was a rich color of burgundy, and the walls creme, with a hint of orange to them. "It could be better," she observed through heavily lidded eyes, while sitting down at an intricately carved vanity. Almost as if it were second nature, she began to fiddle with her make-up, completely missing the amused glance on her husbands face.
"Bellatrix," Rodolphus said in a baritone voice. "It was the best I could find in a secluded spot like this one. Lucius found an absolutely atrocious building – I think he only showed it to me because he always wants his possessions to be more grand."
"Always trying to one-up us," Bellatrix sneered. "Well he's got another thing coming, if he thinks he can displease our Lord as such. He acts like such a fool!" The raven-haired beauty rose from the table and continued her inspection of the room.
A large bed with a black satin comforter and burgundy sheets stood next to a large walk-in closet. To the right of the bed were a pair of french doors leading out onto a balcony that overlooked a magnificent garden.
"Look at the bathroom, Bella! I could live in here!"
Shaking her head, Bellatrix turned from the view the balcony offered, and strode across the room into the adjoined bathroom.
"I liked our old home better," she said in disdain, while glancing around.
There was a bathtub, the size of a fairly large swimming pool, made purely of gold. It was carpeted much like the bedroom, and was even complete with a couch, fireplace, and a couple of chairs.
"You're so negative all the time, dear." Rodolphus said, before kissing her affectionately on the forehead.
"Forgive me, Rodolphus, but I'm tired. That child gave me a headache with her screams – I should remember to cast a silencing charm on people before cursing them. Remind me next time, won't you?"
"Yes of course, Bella. You should sleep, but not right now. The Dark Lord will want to know if we've found a place to stay."
"Can it not wait until tomorrow? Azkaban has drained me – it has drained all of us. I feel... strange, now. Don't you?"
"Yes, but we must be strong. The Dark Lord will want to see us immediately. We shall be rewarded, and then you may sleep."
The two lovers apparated away, but not before disposing of the corpses they had left lying about. The lady of the house had been in the kitchen preparing a meal, while the man was in the study looking over bills. A young girl, around ten, had been tinkering with a miniature broomstick, and what was seemingly her brother, a three month old child, lay in his crib sleeping peacefully – forever more.
Whatever sick and twisted relationship the two had, Bellatrix and Rodolphus loved one another, and, whether it was torturing, killing, or kissing, they shared a bond. No one on the outside understood – not even fellow Death Eaters. One would think, with lives so filled with evil, there was no room for compassion, then they were wrong.
And when, during the final battle, Remus Lupin avenged Sirius' death, Rodolphus Lestrange died of a broken heart.