Summary: Antonin should never have opened Rodolphus' late night letter... (Crack!Fic version of Death Eaters)

Could be asleep

When Antonin Dolohov received a letter with Rodolphus Lestrange's scrawl across the sealed envelope, he knew he should've shoved it in a drawer and ignored it for at least a month. Maybe looked at it once he'd returned from his much needed holiday in a couple of weeks.

But damn his curiosity. Rodolphus never sent a letter. Never. The most Antonin had seen him write was single sentences on most of his homework when they were in school.

Please help.

R.

It looked like he still hadn't written more than a single sentence in one sitting.

Antonin pinched the bridge of his nose. The cryptic note was already giving him a headache and he'd not decided whether he would go or not. Well, he liked to pretend he had the option to decide he wasn't going, but when a fellow Death Eater needed help, it was never an option.

"Fuck," he snapped, scrunching the piece of paper up and throwing it in the fireplace.

A Magical Journey Later (roughly ten minutes)…

"Rod?" Antonin called out to the small house the Lestranges lived in when he opened the front door. He knew Bellatrix wouldn't answer, she would be off, simpering around the Dark Lord at the Malfoys' home. "Rod!"

"I'm out here," his distant reedy voice called from the back garden.

Antonin knew immediately he shouldn't have opened his letter. He just knew. He should be a Seer really, with the amount of times his gut tried to tell him something. His stomach gurgled. "I fucking know, all right!" he muttered to his torso.

"Ant? You still there?"

"I'm coming," he called back with a heavy sigh.

He stomped through the barely furnished living room with it's single sofa and an unlit fireplace, and didn't even think twice about the piles of dishes in the cold kitchen. The back door was flung open. He spotted a single wand-light in the middle of the small patch of grass they had, barely lighting up the area.

"What's going on?" Antonin asked loudly. His boots squelched in the soft grass.

"Shush! You'll wake up the neighbours!" Rodolphus hissed.

"Not my fault you and Bella picked a Muggle… village…" Antonin's sentence trailed off quietly.

There, at Rodolphus' feet, was Bellatrix. She almost looked like she was sleeping. Her face even looked beautiful in that small amount of light, now that her features weren't twisted into her usual demonic grin.

Yes, Antonin thought, she almost could be asleep.

Except for the knife sticking out of her chest, right where her heart was.

Antonin could feel Rodolphus' eyes on him, waiting for him to come up with a plan.

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "You had one job, Rod. Keep her out of trouble until the time was right."

"I know."

"What do you think his Dark Lord is going to say?"

"I'm doing the best I can," Rodolphus said loud enough for the words to echo into the night sky. He clasped a hand over his mouth for a moment. "What do I do?"

Antonin practically backhanded him in the chest as he whirled to face him and grab his collar. "You couldn't have waited?" His words bounced around the quiet village. "You couldn't have waited two more weeks? I would have been on holiday and not had to provide your alibi."

An upstairs light went on in the neighbours house. Rodolphus slapped at Antonin's hands. "Stop your messing around. Help me!"

"I'll help you into a grave with your wife is what I'll do!"