A/N: Oh, my God! I am so terribly sorry about the wait! In the last month, I've been extremely busy: I went on vacation, I've had a ton of homework, I tried out for the school play, and a while ago my grandpa had to be rushed to the hospital, and he's still there. I got sick a few days ago, and then I went on vacation. But now, I'm back! Again, many apologies. I feel terrible! If I don't get around to last or this chapter's review responses for a while, please don't take it personally.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. 'Nuff said. I got the inspiration for this chapter from my dear mother, who has made screaming at my family a regular activity. I love you, Mom. Thanks to my wonderful beta, ciararocks, for she is quite cool.

Rodolphus Lestrange is Whipped

Rodolphus yawned as he walked down the stairs. Boy, what a night! He sighed as he fondly recalled the events of last evening. Actually... wait. He furrowed his brow. What had happened last night? He shook his head. Ah, well. What did it matter? Apparently, he had been too drunk to remember. But that didn't make sense. If he had gotten smashed, he'd have a...

"Hangover," he muttered, as the mother of all headaches crashed down on him with the force of twenty steel trucks. "Damn."

He walked unsteadily into the kitchen to find his wife sitting at the table, drinking a hot cup of coffee.

"Ah," he said. "Just the woman I wanted to see."

Bellatrix beamed at him. "Oh, Rodolphus, I'm so glad-"

"No, no, wait," he said, interrupting her as he took a seat next to her. "Let me go first. I need to ask you something."

She nodded, smiling.
"Could you brew me a Hangover Solution?" he asked, "Because, Merlin, do I need one right now-"

He abruptly stopped talking after catching a glimpse at the look on his wife's face.

"A Hangover Solution?" she yelled. "A Hangover Solution!"

He nodded meekly.

She rose from her chair and began slowly pacing in front of him. "Let me get this straight. You were out last night, drinking?"

He nodded more forcefully and winced.

"I should have known!" Bellatrix seethed, spinning on the spot to face him. "And here was naïve me, thinking you were out planning a surprise or something! Instead, you were out with your damned friends, having some beer, maybe some Firewhisky, not giving a damn about today, just thinking about yourself, for once, and-"

"I'm lost," he interrupted again. "Why was I supposed to surprise you?"

Her upset look turned to one of pure, unadulterated wrath.

"I don't believe you," she said in that quietly dangerous voice of hers. He winced again. This was worse than when she screamed.

"Could you please just tell me what I'm missing?" he asked.

She inhaled deeply, counting internally to ten as she let the breath out. "What's today, Rodolphus?" she asked with an air of pseudo patience.

He shrugged. "Beats me."

"Today, dear, is March twenty-second."

He nodded.

And then it hit him.

"Oh, damn…" he muttered.

"Our anniversary," she hissed. "You forgot our anniversary."

"Bellatrix, darling, I'm so sorry-" he began, starting to get up, but she pointed a perfectly tapered fingernail at him. "Sit."

He sat.

"I cannot believe you! After all these years – how many has it been? Oh, well, of course you wouldn't know. It's been twenty years, Rodolphus! Twenty years to the date! March twenty-second, 1978, we were wed! You didn't even forget the date when we were in bloody Azkaban! In fact, I distinctly remember you serenading me with You're The One That I Want one year-"

"I don't know where you're getting this from," he replied, "because don't the dementors take away all your happy memories? So how would I remember the wedd– oh, wait. Never mind."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Bellatrix shrieked. "Are you saying our marriage isn't happy? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No, of course not-"

"Because if it is," she continued loudly, dramatically yanking her wedding ring off her finger, "you can take this back!"

"No, Bella, of course I don't want that-"

"Or do you?" she cried.

"No!" he said. "Why wouldn't I want to be married to this lovely, beautiful, perfect, smart… uh… beautiful…woman," he finished lamely.

"Don't you dare try to talk your way out of this one, Rodolphus Quentillian Lestrange!" she shouted. "That's all you every do: weasel your way out of things. And I'm bloody sick of it! You may have been a Slytherin, but does that give you the right to shirk your duties as a husband? It most certainly does not! You were more responsible as a second year, for Merlin's sake! And another thing – you…"

Rodolphus tuned his wife out as her constant shouts made his head throb more and more with each passing second. He discreetly summoned everything he could think of that went into a Hangover Solution and, with a nearly inconspicuous flick of his wand, set them brewing behind Bellatrix's back.

"Rodolphus!" she yelled, and he snapped back to attention. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," he sighed. "Not," he muttered under his breath, feeling quite immature as he did so.

He suddenly remembered, as he watched a wooden spoon stir the solution counterclockwise forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven times, that after it was mixed, the potion was to be cooked in a tea kettle for exactly four minutes and seven seconds. Another subtle swish and the potion transferred itself to the kettle.

"…and another thing. You lied to me about last night! I said, 'Where are you going, Ro?' and you said, 'Out.' And I said, 'Out where'? And you winked and said, 'You'll see tomorrow, babe.' Well, you're damn right! I expect to wake up in a bed of roses and come downstairs to a homemade apple crumb cake, and what do I get?" She lowered her voice in an imitation of her husband. "'Can you make me a Hangover Solution?' Merlin, Rodolphus, today is circled in red hearts on the calendar!"

A faint whistling sound echoed throughout the kitchen, as the potion heated up.

"What's that?" asked Bellatrix suspiciously.

"Er, nothing. I'm just, uh, working on my whistling. Phweet." Rodolphus tried to whistle, and failed dismally.

"You should have been taking whistling lessons last night! Anything other than out getting wasted with your brother!"

"Actually, I was with Lucius and Snape," he intervened.

"I don't care! Whomever your stupid little friends are!"

Rodolphus checked his watch, and saw the potion was done. He rushed over to the stove and downed it in one gulp, sighing at the immediate effect.

"Now listen here, Bellatrix," he thundered, his strength back. "I am the man in this relationship! And when I want to go out drinking with my friends, that's what I'm gonna do, whether you like it or not! And I'm not some swotty little nancy boy who writes his wife songs and plays them on his guitar! No, sir! I am going to do what I want, when I want it!"

Silence.

One.

Two.

"Oh, you are, are you?" she asked, smiling her dangerous smile again.

"Um… yes?" he said, faltering.

"I don't think so," she said in a singsong voice. "Do you, dear?"

"Uh, no, not really…"

"Did you really mean what you said?"

"Of course not, darling," he mumbled, staring at his feet.

"I didn't think so," she said sweetly.

Someone snickered.

Rodolphus turned slowly on the spot to face Rabastan, Snape, Voldemort, and Wormtail standing in front of the door.

"What," he asked slowly, face turning pink, "are you all doing here?"

"Well, when we noticed you were late for today's Death Eater meeting, we figured you'd be getting some shit from your wife about coming home smashed. And we couldn't pass up the opportunity to watch you get your arse kicked," Voldemort said.

Peter elbowed him. "What he means is, we wanted to see if you were coming today. And we thought we'd make you a Hangover Solution."

"See?" Rodolphus protested. "These guys are true friends!"

Bellatrix merely tapped her foot.

"I didn't mean it, o beautiful and merciful wife of mine," he mumbled.

"You're whipped," Snape smirked at him.

Lucius made whipping noises in the background.

"How long were you here for?" Rodolphus asked.

Voldemort sniggered. "Long enough."

Rodolphus buried his head in his arms. "This has got to be the worst day of my life."

"Not yet, it isn't!" announced Rabastan. "We've caught the whole thing on video! Tonight's main feature at Vile Love Dorr is He Forgot His Anniversary, starring you!"

Bellatrix couldn't help but smirk as her husband was frog-marched off the premises by his friends. She had been fully aware that he had been brewing a remedy behind her back. The one in the dark was Rodolphus. She had quietly added a dash of Ogden's Old Firewhisky to the recipe. With it, his hangover would be back and ten times as worse within five minutes of taking the potion.

She counted down. Three, two, one.

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN!" she heard Rodolphus scream as he Apparated away.

Revenge was sweeter than a homemade apple crumb cake on your anniversary.

A/N: Review skit!

Voldemort: Ah, at last. An update.

Lucius: It's about bloody time, too!

Draco: Yeah!

Avada Cruimperio: What are you guys on about? You hate it when I write about you.

Wormtail: Not really. We just pretend we do. It secretly makes us feel loved.

Voldemort: And warm and happy on the inside.

Avada: You guys are drunker than Rodolphus was last night

Draco: No, we're not.

Lucius: We should tell you, Avada, one more thing.

All: We love you!

Avada: AHHH! Get away!

Draco: -hugs Avada-

Avada: Stop it! Stop it! You're evil!

Wormtail: -sings- You are so beautiful!

Avada: -whimpers-

Voldemort: Avada, will you marry me?

Avada: NOOOOOO! -wakes up- Merlin, you know what this taught me?

Draco: No.

Avada: REVIEW!