Just The Man [Rodolphus]

“You do that so good, Rod,” half-whispered, half-moaned Trixie, Dixie, or whatever the hell her name was.

Under-the-robe and over-the-bra of some forgettable Slytherin girl, it really was just another day in the life of Rodolphus Lestrange. If one were to pass the pair by, it would look as if they were magnetized to one another; there was not a nick of space between the two. The girl’s back was pressed up against a wall in the in a shadowy corridor, her make-up a frenzied smear, tongues rubbing feverishly against one another, and completely oblivious to everything around them. Deftly, he began to undo the clasp of her bra, kissing her from her lips to the slope of her neck, until she stopped him short.

“There are people walking by…” the girl murmured.

Rod smirked. “Isn’t that the point?”

To that, the girl giggled at the scandal of it all, secretly reveling in the shame. Bringing his mouth back to hers, his hands traveled across the warm expanse of her bare skin, taking in the lavender scented perfume she had sprayed on her collar bone and the warmth of her breath on his neck.

It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination, by any means, to say that Rod collected conquests. He treasured each and every one of them like a dragon treasures its hoard. But he looked back on them with selfishness and a hazy memory. In his bureau, in his dormitory, Rod had a collection of lovers at his fingertips. It was a tin box that had once held chocolates (given to him by a secret admirer, no less). In it, were the vestiges of lovers past: numerous love letters, one lock of hair, a poem or two, a few snap shots, and various other trinkets. And he couldn’t even remember most of them.

Now he was in his seventh year at Hogwarts, he was easily a dozen girls away from his virginity, a respectable feat considering the prudishness of most English girls, not to mention the stodgy atmosphere surrounding the school itself. His first time had been with Odette Doyle, a sixth year Slytherin girl during his fourth year, and he was entirely indebted to her. She had been patient, beautiful, but most of all, instructive. Since then, his rendez-vous with women had been fruitful and numerous. Beyond these sexual experiences, however, Rod was quite unsuccessful in formal relationships – not that he was exactly trying, mind you. Any proper Slytherin girl with half a brain would die to marry into the Lestrange family. But Rod figured, he was seventeen, the least he could do was have fun before he became old and useless. The only exception to that rule was Bellatrix Black.

She was a god damn thorn in his side, a constant reminder of the chain-and-ball marriage he was headed towards. The marriage itself had been arranged since he and Bellatrix were just children, when their meddling parents had gotten together and thought, Well ho, ho, who’s life can we fuck up? To put it frankly, Bellatrix was inane, and annoying, uninteresting, and a million other things he detested. He could hardly stand to be in the same room with this girl, much less be married to her. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. Would he stop shagging other women? Merlin, no. Even still, it would never be quite the same. He would never be free again.

Speak of the devil.

He looked over the girl’s shoulder, seeing the raven-haired fiancé of his pass through a door he was certain hadn’t been there five minutes ago. Ah, the Room of Requirement. That was where he’d lost his virginity, actually. Though best not to mention that Bellatrix.

“Excuse me, love,” he muttered half-heartedly to the girl he’d previously been snogging. She was dismayed and called after him, but Rod scarcely looked over his shoulder. He went in after Bellatrix, curious as to what kind of mischief she was up to. What on earth was she needing the Room of Requirement for, anyway?

Arching a brow, Rod surveyed the room and the destruction she had caused. “Long day at the office, dear?”

Rod sidled to the side as she flung that curse. When it hit the dummy behind his shoulder, Rod glanced over, arching a brow, and smiling a bemused smile. “I hope you weren’t trying to hit me, deary. Your aim’s a bit off.” As much as he loved annoying her, her anger always chilled him a little bit. She was so ferocious, unlike anyone else. To a point, he could admire her for it. She could shake with such fury.

At that clever retort of hers, Rod pouted his lips in mock pity and replied sarcastically, “Aw, sad you’re not getting any, Bella? You’re welcome to come join us, you know. All you have to do is knock.” Smirking, he realized there were few things that pleased him quite as much as setting Bellatrix off. That temper of hers. Despite the invitation, Rod snorted at the thought. He could hardly imagine shagging Bellatrix, no matter how attractive she was. Truly, there were few girls at Hogwarts that compared to her as far as beauty went. There were also few girls that compared to her as far as crazy went.

Now that Rodolphus thought about it, he had never really seen Bellatrix with many men, as far as romance or shagging went. It wasn’t as if he kept tabs on her, of course, but Rod generally considered himself good at keeping up with who was snogging who, and so forth. Sure, her head was a mile up Riddle’s ass. Everyone knew that. But she never seemed involved with anyone, not even in the most physical sense. Rod supposed she was just too high-maintenance a bitch, that no one wanted to get involved with her. Not to mention, he sort of already had his territory clearly outlined. Their betrothal had been established since they were kids, but he imagined their parents had arranged it even before then. Professional double-crossers, they were.

On the surface, Rod and Bellatrix seem like a perfectly practical patch. Both come from snobbish pure-blooded families. Both of those families were wealthy (or formerly so…). It had all been agreed upon without too much protest. All in all, the betrothal seemed like something that was just perfect in its inevitable-ness. Rod, however, was certain this marriage would end in disaster. How he was going to tolerate Bellatrix till his dying breath, he had no sodding idea.

Even as children, Rodolphus and Bellatrix never quite saw eye to eye. Rod would pluck the heads off her toys, and she’d send a nasty hex his way to teach him a lesson. A match made in Heaven, indeed. One would think it was because they were too different, hence the constant feuding. But over the years, Rod had begrudgingly come to realize that it was they were too similar. Imperious to a fault, arrogant, but also manipulative and crafty, they were practically two peas in a pod. They were too alike, it was stifling, like coming face to face all the flaws you didn’t want to know about yourself.

When Rod thought on his impending marriage to this insane beast before him, he couldn’t help but despair. It was then that he realized how lucky his younger brother was. Rodolphus had always been the favorite son, and his parents’ couldn’t give a rat’s ass who their youngest married, so long as she wasn’t completely hopeless. Rod supposed he had to be grateful for this then; this marriage arrangement was a sign of how much his parents cared about him, that they felt he was the one best suited to carry on the family legacy. Even still, standing before Bellatrix now, he couldn’t help but envy Rabastan and all of his freedom.

Bellatrix certainly couldn't be described as a 'calm' individual, but still, he rarely saw her so riled up. Smiling coolly, Rod replied, "Why the theatrics, Bells? That time of the month, eh?"

Oh poor Bellatrix. Rodolphus had always regarded her with a certain amount of... pity. Yes, pity, that was the word. He didn't think she was stupid or weak. On the contrary, he had exchanged many a verbal spar with the witch to know that she wasn't completely thick in the head. Moreover, if that curse she had cast earlier was any indication, the girl clearly had a strong knack for magic. Indeed, Bellatrix was a gifted witch to be envied by many. However, Rod had always felt she hadn't much of a backbone. Here she was: beautiful and brilliant, yet still a slave to her parent's wishes. She could have anyone she wanted yet she chose to pine after Riddle - an affection everyone knew was hopeless - and remain stuck with her childhood suitor. Her situation was precarious, that much could be said.

Of course, the same could be said for Rodolphus. He didn't seem to be fighting their impending engagement, though it bothered him as much as it bothered Bellatrix. He could have anyone he wanted, as well. He was just as smart as Bellatrix - though perhaps not as magically gifted - and could well take the wizarding world by a storm. Only the difference between him and his dark-haired fiance was that he didn't much care. Did he want to become attached at the hip to Bellatrix? No, of course not. But, he knew there would always be a girl eager to shag, whether there was a ring on his finger or not. Bellatrix however... she was just stagnant.

Rod took her in then, her regal beauty that could stand the test of time, her power, her fury, her spite. She was a dangerous thing, volatile. Her green, green eyes seemed to pierce right through him and for a moment, Rod felt a little shaken, though he remained calm and composed. Honestly, if the girl hadn't been forced upon him like carrots and peas, he would have taken to her quite easily. No, he wouldn't have gotten on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage. He couldn't imagine doing that to any girl. But if she had been any other witch walking down the corridors of Hogwarts, and not his fiance, he would have taken her to bed without hestitation. So much for that, he supposed.

His lips pulled back in a smile then, mirroring her snarling grin. A light laugh escaped his lips, laced with amusement and just a hint of condescention. "Don't kid yourself, Bella," he began smoothly, knowing very well how much she hated that little nickname. "Unless Riddle's given you the hanky panky in those private tutoring sessions of yours, you're not getting any more than our gamekeeper Hagrid." He rocked back and forth on his heels, delightedly waiting for the crude comparison to sink in. How he loved to torture the girl.

At the mention of his parents, though, Rod's smile disappeared until his lips were just a hard-set line across his face. His parents. They adored Bella, of course. They flocked her with gifts, showered her with affection. His parents showed him an equal amount of love, more so than his younger brother Rabastan, anyway. But he had never returned the feelings. Something had never set right between him and his parents. There was an unnameable hatred there. Whether that hatred stemmed because of their ceaseless meddling or from some darker place, Rodolphus couldn'tbe sure. All he knew, was that he bristled at the mere mention of them. Lyra and Phraxos, his own personal Pandora's Box.

He became so lost in his thoughts that he hardly registered what she had said. Indeed, she had delivered the invitation so subtly, so skillfully, but it was there, just waiting ot be answered. You can't take Ditzy to the ball... You're going to have to take someone that's up to par with your family's standards... That's what she had said. The words sank in, and that arrogant smiled appeared on his face again. "Oh Bella... Are you suggesting I have you on my arm, instead?" That was a joke if he'd ever heard one. "Unless you plan on shagging me in a broom cupboard during dinnertime, I doubt that's going to happen."

For a brief moment, Rod had a strange inclination to sink into her skin, to know exactly what she thought about him. It wasn't so much that he cared about what she thought, what her opinions were, but he simply wanted to know for the sake knowing. She didn't know him and he certainly didn't know her. That much had been made perfectly obvious. He knew she defined him exclusively as an asshole, a lazy, arrogant prat who didn't particularly care about anything or anyone other than himself. But it suddenly seemed all at once wonderful to know her deepest thoughts of him, all the things she wished to say but didn't. When she thought of their future together, what did she see? Hell? Had she hated him all these years the way he hated her? He imagined her sitting with her friends, one of them bringing up his name in the conversation. He imagined her bristling at the mere mention of him, and he loved it.

Bellatrix was right. He obviously couldn't claim to know the inner-workings of her life, her daily habits, her vices, or even the simplest of things like her favorite foods, music tastes, or whatever. He didn't know if she wanted kids one day (though he was guessing 'no'), if she spent her afternoons reading the Daily Prophet or having sex with Professor Riddle in a broom cupboard. For all he knew, she was completely different from what everyone thought. Her dreams, her fears, her insecurities; these were things he could only guess at. She was a mystery to him. However, Rod could hardly care about these things. Sure, he was engaged to the girl, but he held no desire to get to know her. He was much more comfortable make assumptions, thank you very much. Bellatrix was a cold-hearted, infuriating bitch who made his stomach twist to knots. He'd much rather face a Hungarian Horntail than deal with her high-maintenance drama.

Then again, the way fury was radiating off her skin, she was practically as dangerous as a Horntail. She stood there, silently fuming, pupils dilated. Her entire body was tense and trembling with an anger he had never seen from anyone before. As she stood there before him, she reminded him of a lycanthrope, completely wild in their instinct and inherent blood-lust. Her white fangs drew blood, and he watched with morbid fascination as it slipped across the curve of her lower lip. After a few moments though, something change. Her stance softened, her eyes no longer ablaze, but calculative. She had managed to calm herself down, re-think the situation. He watched as a small smirk appeared on her lips, and he felt unsettled. She was no longer a werewolf, but a lioness, hidden in the grass, waiting to leap upon her prey when the time was right.

His amusement lessened when she went off about his parents. "Bellatrix..." he whispered in a low growl, as if warning her that she'd gone too far. During their entire confrontation, Rod had been more entertained than anything. He'd taken mild delight in her frustration, her admonishment of the choices he'd made in the past, the person he was now. But now something inside him had grown more serious, less playful. He looked down at her, a strange anger lingering in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Merlin, he could just about rip her throat out for all the things she was saying. In fact...

Without hardly thinking, Rod called her bluff. He so did love to gamble, after all. As quick as a blink, Rod wrapped his hand around her neck, that pale, beautiful neck of hers, and slammed her back against the wall. He'd been forceful, but he doubted it would have hurt her in any way. Just perhaps have startled her. He couldn't have cared less, though. His blue-green eyes stared deeply into hers, ablaze. It was as if they had switched places. The tables had turned. She had known just where to stab him, that little bitch. But two could play that game. Bellatrix Black hadn't won just yet. "You're clever, Bella. But I don't think you've thought this through. What makes you think I can't make your life a living hell, too? Do you really want to spend the holidays in the Lestrange manor? I doubt it," He hated to be toyed with. He didn't like having the taste of his own medicine flung in his face. "An eye for an eye, right? Hit me, and I'll just hit you right back."

How was it even humanly possible that such a god damned bitch existed? Even more infuriating, how was she allowed to walk this earth without flames bursting behind her as she walked. Rod was certain she had to be a demon from Hell. She just had to be. That was the only thing that explained her complete lack of humanity. All these years, he'd been able to let everything she said or did roll off his shoulders. In fact, he was usually the one that was able to get under her skin, not the other way around. He'd been enormously successful at making her life hell, making him loathe her as much as he did her. Now though, Bellatrix was fighting back. Clearly the gloves had come off and the claws had come out. Jokes and snippy banter were long out the window. All that was left was the two of them and all their follies, their caprices, every ounce of deplorable fault. How he could have killed her then, ripped out her jugular and watched her bleed all over the floor. Every word she spoke sent a chilling shiver down his spine. He couldn't even hide his displeasure; it was written all over that face of his. He'd lost his bravado and there was nothing for him to hide behind now. Shaking his head, lips pursed, he replied as calmly as he could, "You're the Devil."

There was anger in his eyes, but his thumb gently rubbed the soft skin of her throat. It wasn't in affection, however. Images of him tearing it out and ending their war forever were racing through his mind. There was nothing he could do to stop them and he was oh so tempted to give in. His expression grave, he cleared his throat, bring his eyes back to hers. "And if I come to the ball with you, Bellatrix? What's in it for you? For either of us? Do you think we'll just have a merry time, getting schnockered on the spiked punch, playing footsie under the dinner table? You're mad. Going together will be sheer misery for both of us. Why put yourself through that? Wouldn't you rather go with someone who doesn't make you want to stab yourself repeatedly?" His tone had softened, inwardly hoping that he could persuade her out of this insane idea of hers. He kept his hand clenched on her throat, however.

At her words, he imagined if they did spend the holidays together. Terse dinners shared together, avoiding one another's stare, casting hexes underneath the table. Constantly at each other's throats. Putting glue in each other's shampoo. Just biding their time till the other person cracked under the ceaseless harassment. Such a holiday would be a living nightmare. There would be nothing merry about it. He hated to admit it, but Bells had played her cards well, taken his greatest weakness and exploited it to her advantage. Bravo, Bellatrix. Well done. He wasn't ready to give up just yet, however. He was still clinging to the belief that he could talk her about of this madness. Make her see the light in this darkness she had willingly forced them into. Wordlessly, he stared deep into her bright eyes, trying to solve this puzzle she had put before him. He wanted to know what it was she was playing at, what it was she was trying to accomplish. Surely this wasn't just some sadistic errand of hers. There had to be more to it. His eyes searched her face, and for once in his life, he was completely desperate.

His nails dug a little deeper into her flesh and his face inched slightly closer. Dammit, he had had plans for the Fall Formal! Up until this point, he had had every intention of avoiding the hell out of Bellatrix and whatever ninny she chose to sport on her arm. Secondly, formals were prime-time to take advantage of starry-eyed girls who were dateless and desperately hoping to meet the man of their dreams. It would be a cake walk, but here was Bellatrix, kicking all the cakes with her leather boots till they were nothing but squashed flour and smeared icing.

Sod it all. The bitch was beating him at his own game. He knew it. She knew it. At this point, he really should have just seceded and given her what she wanted. After all, what was one night in the grand scheme of things? Everything, Rodolphus thought vehemently to himself. Come next year, his life was over. Bellatrix would be it for him, the beginning of the end of the life he had now. The life he wanted to keep more than anything. She was his dementor, his boggart, everything that kept him awake at night. She was the Minotaur just waiting around the corner, drawing him deeper into a dark, twisted labyrinth he could never hope to escape.

When he thought about Bellatrix, nausea was always his immediate reaction. Completely involuntary. She couldn't possibly understand about how much his sheer loathing for her consumed his life. So yes, going to the ball with her could have been the worst thing imaginable for him. Everything was flying by so fast. He only had so little time left before they'd be bound by holy matrimony, forced into the same sleeping quarters like animals for breeding. Rodolphus couldn't even conceive the notion of having children with her. Lest they inherit her Devil horns. When was this nightmare going to end? Rod knew he put up a good front most of the time. He did an exceptional job of pretending that she was just a mere inconvenience, that having her as his wife wouldn't in any way change the structure of his life. But it would. He'd always known that. That was why he couldn't let her win.

His finger on her throat, still, he saw a look in her eyes he'd never seen before. It was so strange, he couldn't even fully describe it. It was a look that was vaguely familiar, something he saw often in other girls, but now with it's own personal touch of Bellatrix. Distorted. What was she thinking right now that gave her a look like that? His stomach began doing flip-flops over and over for the mere fact that he couldn't identify her at all. She eluded him completely and it drove him mad with hate.

Hearing her words, Rod almost threw her across the room. What he would have given to see her broken, mangled corpse at his feet, at his own hand. It took every ounce of willpower not do. However, his green-blue eyes, normally so full of life and humor, were now aflame with a hatred he'd never felt for anyone else. "Are you that much of a glory hound, Bellatrix? Are you really that concerned for what people think of you? They can piss off! The press, our professors, our parents! I don't give a damn what they expect of us! I refuse to be their slave, much less yours!" Rod was livid, visibly shaking from his anger. He pulled away, releasing his hold on her. He needed space from her. She was infecting him. Exhaling a deep breath, he calmed himself. He closed the lids of his eyes, feeling his heart racing at a thousand miles per minute. Finally he felt himself ease slightly, though every muscle in his body was still tense. "Everything you're doing is purely selfish. And that's coming from me, Bella. If you think I care at all whether you win the Wizard's Cup or not..." Rod laughed, shaking his head. "You are so fucked up in that head of yours; you're all out of sorts and there's no one that can fix you." The words were out of his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying. It was harsh what he had said, but there was no way he was taking it back. Rodolphus wasn't a Wizard's Cup Champion. He didn't blooming care what the fate of that whole circus was. He just wanted to taste these last few months of freedom without Bellatrix breathing down his neck. He just wanted his freedom.

It wasn't until she mentioned the Nighthouse that he began to seriously consider her offer, as much as it pained him. Even Bellatrix knew what that place meant to him. Inwardly, he knew how hypocritical it was that he'd called Bellatrix a glory hound; the whole purpose of the Nighthouse was to preserve his legacy at Hogwarts long after he was gone. He wouldn't voice this of course. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he looked down at his shoes, weighing his options. If the need arose, Joram could help him out, couldn't he? The Hufflepuff was as loaded as the rest of the pure-blooded families. She had dangled very tempting bait in front of him. But he chose to ignore her. He wanted to see how long he could wear her thin. Or how long she would him.

Rod was certain she had to be playing Devil's advocate, trying to get him to implode under any means possible. Surely, she didn't really want this, to go to the formal with him. Surely she was just trying to exact revenge for all the misery he'd brought her over the years. But as he desperately searched her eyes for any ounce of truth, he knew that she meant every word she was saying. There was a madness in her dilated pupils, a madness he'd never seen in anyone else before. It unnerved him like nothing ever had. The things Bellatrix could do to him... no one else had been able to chill him the way she did. She could make him twist and burn in ways he hadn't thought possible. Rodolphus Lestrange was strong and confident. He walked the school of Hogwarts with an imperious attitude, knowing full well the luxury he possessed as a Lestrange. Rod was never afraid, never backed down. He always won. He never lost. But here he was, standing in front of Bellatrix Black, and losing. To be honest, he'd always written her off as your typical spoiled brat. Sure, she was quick-witted and explosive. That was hardly breaking news. But she'd always seemed weak to him. There in the room of requirement, however, he was beginning to realize how powerful she truly was.

Despite his best efforts to maintain a cool head in all of this, Rodolphus couldn't help but let his lips curl back in a sneer. How he loathed that despicable bitch. He couldn't say anything against her, though. Rodolphus knew very well that she was right. Though they'd been dancing this dance pretty evenly for a while now, he knew he was starting to lose his footing. He was no longer leading; she had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him at her own, insane pace, and he wasn't sure if he could keep up. He couldn't deny what she had said. He'd be lying if he claimed to be anything other than the pure-blooded, narcissistic ass he was. It was a reputation he had established and carefully maintained throughout the years. When people spoke the word womanizer, their subsequent thought was Rodolphus Lestrange. The two were practically one and the same. But Bellatrix wanted to tame him. Wanted to put him on a leash and make him her bitch. Not just for the Wizard's Cup but for the rest of their lives together. Did she really think he couldn't see right through her? She may have won this battle, but he would always be able to see through her smoke screen.

He was about to tell her just this, but then he saw he dark figure rushing toward him in a blur, and suddenly her knee hit him where it hurt the most. He didn't even have time to be surprised, it happened so fast. Doubling over in pain, he couldn't hold in his agony. "Bloody hell..." he moaned, eyes squeezed shut. Rodolphus collapsed to his knees, only half-hearing what Bellatrix hissed in his ear through the excruciating pain. What was it? Beat on Rodolphus Week? Just a few days ago, his baby brother Rabastan had taken a lit cigarette to the vulnerable flesh of his arm. All this abuse was beginning piss him off, especially considering that none of it was was of the kinky variety. Clearly the tables had turned. Earlier he'd been the one relishing in his control over her, knowing he could've choked her to death, feeling the pulse of her mortality beneath his fingers. He had never felt such exhilarating control before, but now he was the one at her mercy. It was more than he could stand. He wanted more than anything to tell her off, to call her bitch, a whore, anything to make her flinch. But he knew none of those words would mean anything to her. No word could fully encompass his loathing for her.

Eventually, the pain began to dissipate and slowly, Rod rose from his knees. His breaths were long and hard, as if he'd just run a marathon. Other than his heavy breathing, he was silent. He stood with his back to her, hands on his hips, and head bowed to the stone floor. Regaining his composure he turned back to look at her. For a moment, Rodolphus seemed resigned, as if he were beginning to comply to her demands. Inwardly, he had. But he wasn't about to let her know that just yet. His face was devoid of any emotion, as if he were wearing a mask. Then in an instant, he withdrew his wand and shouted, "Confringo!" He pulled back, watching the curse go flying. Then through a clenched jaw he seethed, "At least if I'm neutered, I won't have to father your Devil's spawn."