We are Nameless || Rodolphus

Rodolphus Lestrange was in dire need of liquor. Not because he desperately needed to get pissed - though this wasn't something he was really ever opposed to – but because Edith “Edie” Basinger had requested it of him, and you did not say no to Edie Basinger; not if you wanted to get laid, anyway. She was a sixth year, and thus, underage. Why she thought Rod would have better luck of acquiring such luxuries, he wasn't sure. Perhaps because he was a Lestrange, and therefore had to have connections? Or perhaps she just wanted to watch him struggle a bit before she threw him a bone. In any case, tonight he was going to lose his virginity to possibly the sexiest woman on the planet – or at least till he found someone hotter tomorrow. Edie had told him that she would rob him of his Scarlet V so long as he could provide the alcohol. If he did, then her body was all his. An arrogant but undeniably good-looking fourth year, it really was just a matter of time before this milestone in his life unfolded. So now, he was on the hunt for the key to his awakening, so to speak: liquor.

Naturally, he'd been to his fair share of parties throughout the course of his career at Hogwarts. However, none of them had been hosted by himself. Consequently, he really didn't know where to go when an underage student was in need of some liquid courage. But the clock was ticking and he knew he had to hurry. He'd spent the entire day asking around, but people had just given him vague and sometimes joking responses. Upperclassmen. They were so quick to write off those younger than them. It was no bother to Rodolphus, however. If there was one thing he possessed, it was perseverance. Er, at least in regards to women, drinking, and gambling. Perseverance was pretty much lost on the other aspects of his life. He carried on, certain he could bring Edie what she wanted. Then he could get what he wanted.

Thank you Edward Baish, the wonderful seventh year Slytherin that had so generously given him the name of his dealer. “Name's Mortelle. Vincente Joram Mortelle. Some Italian bloke. He's only a third year and a Hufflepuff to boot, but he can get you whatever you like.” With a knowing smile, Edward had departed and Rod had nodded his thanks. Yes, Edie Basinger, you were all Rodolphus' tonight. A satisfied smirk appeared on the fourth year's lips at the thought. Now, where to find this mysterious benefactor, Mortelle. Clever and resourceful, Rod had no doubt that he could pinpoint this boy's location. Next, he sought out Hattie Francis, a Hufflepuff third year he'd been not-so-innocently flirting with the past few weeks. Surely she could help him out with this one. When she told him that Joram – as he was informally called – had left the common room in a brooding huff, in the direction of the grounds. Clearly, it paid to have connections. That was actually the last time he would speak to Hattie Francis, but he was thankful, nonetheless.

The cold air chilled Rodolphus to the bone as he stepped outside, but it didn't bother him. In fact, he savored it. There was nothing he loved more than the onset of autumn and the cold it brought. Rubbing his hands together, Rod started out onto the grounds. It wasn't long before he spied a Hufflepuff by the Black Lake. He appeared... despondent? Knitting his brows together, Rod kept his intense, blue-green eyes on the third year, deciding he would bide his time. Finally, Joram started back into the direction of the castle. After all, dusk was approaching and with it, curfew. He followed him back at a distant length. And then something strange happened, Joram appeared to disappear into the shadows of the castle. If Rod had been closer, he might've been more appalled. But he decided that he was simply too far back to notice the door or passage way he had taken. Going through the main entrance, he figured Joram was on his way back to the Hufflepuff common. Lucky for him, he was right.

Rod was just about to make his presence known when Joram whirled around, apparently having already noticed him. Cocking his head to the side, Rod smirked, eyes narrowed. Something terrible must have afflicted this boy; why else the sad eyes and sullen frown? Strangely, Rod felt a bit sorry for him, this stranger of a boy. Grinning arrogantly, Rod stepped closer. “You know, just doing my part in Hogwarts' crime watch. Gotta keep all those baddies at bay.” His tone was playful. Sarcastic. He shrugged his shoulders and then added more seriously, “Actually, I was told you were the person to see regarding...” he paused, and then flicked his eyes in the direction of Joram's bag. He was pretty sure he knew what lay at the bottom. “Rodolphus Lestrange. Pleasure to meet you, Joram Mortelle.”

There are two kinds of people in the world: people who have had sex, and those who have not. Until one has transitioned from the latter to the former, there is forever an impenetrable, barrier between the two. Presently, Rodolphus was in that latter category, but he was determined to change all of that tonight. This liquor that Joram allegedly possessed would be his golden ticket. Though a virgin, yes, Rodolphus was not sexually inexperienced. Not in the least. There had been many heated exchanges of saliva in the Slytherin dormitory late at night, deep intakes of breath, playful biting. But he was tired of the monotony of it all. In fact, he liked to blame his current state of virgin-hood on the prudish nature of English girls. They were so quick to stop your hand from crawling up their blouse, too concerned for their precious reputations. Darling he always assured them, this can only improve your reputation. Alas, alack, a girl had yet to give him what he most wanted.

”Yes, Edward. Just lovely, isn't he?” Rodolphus replied with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. It wasn't that he disliked Edward Baish. He was a well enough bloke as far as blokes go. Rodolphus simply had a sardonic way about him. He tended to regard people with a certain mixture of disdain and amusement. Most people reacted very negatively to this trait of his, his constant need for insult and acerbity. Rodolphus really didn't think much of it, to be honest. He supposed he'd always been this way, and didn't particularly care if his words offended people. He didn't care much for people anyway, unless they were somehow serving him. Just like Joram was now. He followed after the Hufflepuff boy, silently pleased that this had all come together so seamlessly.

The Hufflepuff common room was... quaint, Rodolphus decided. He's never been in thehallowed halls of the badgers' sanctuary before, but he noticed immediately its sense of warmth and comfort. It certainly lacked the dark, sleekness of the Slytherin dungeon. While Rod liked its eerie green light and black leather furnishings, it was nice to be somewhere new, to experience a place that felt slightly more homey. Like most Slytherins, Rodolphus had never thought much of Hufflepuffs. As far as he could tell, they were a bunch of poncy buggers with not a lick of sense between them or even semblance of backbones. They were weak, inconsequential and just general annoyances. Rod imagined them to be bugs simply waiting to be squashed under the heel of his foot.

Joram Mortelle seemed completely unlike his previous presuppositions of Hufflepuffs. He was... self-reliant. Capable. There was also something immensely sad about him. Guarded, even. That was Rod's conclusion about the Hufflepuff boy, and he wondered why they had never crossed one another's paths before. Surely their respective social circles weren't terribly far-off. He'd never had a friend in the Hufflepuff house before. Looking Joram up and down, Rodolphus decided this boy wasn't his friend. He was a prospective connection. But for Rodolphus Lestrange, that was about as close as he got.

Rodolphus followed Joram into the dorm, briefly surveying the rows of beds before settling his attention back onto the other boy. He nodded slowly as he spoke, listening to the list of products. Firewhisky, red and white wine, tequila, vodka, Grappa... The last one drew Rod's interest. Ignoring Joram's insistence that the said bottle of Grappa was off-limits, Rod stepped closer and inspected the rosary around Joram's neck. He held it within his fingers, eyes narrowed slightly. He looked up, meeting Joram's gaze and murmured darkly, “Have anything you need to confess?” He smirked, then tucked the rosary back under Joram's shirt, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the surface of Joram's skin. In a swift movement, he plucked the bottle of Grappa from the trunk and tossed it from one hand to the other, a boyishly delighted smile on his face. “Well, Joram, I can't think of a more special occasion than this. Two blokes toasting life, eh? Come on. Indulge me.”