Brother Bleed Brother | Rodolphus

It was a dull and otherwise forgettable afternoon when Rodolphus Lestrange was sought out by a beastly, horned owl on the lawn of the Hogwarts grounds. When it arrived, beating its massive wings fervidly, Rod scarcely recognized the thing. It wasn’t until he stared into the bird’s bright orange eyes and examined its cruel beak that he remembered who owned the foul beast. The owl itself was enormous and brown, and seemed to Rodolphus the sort of creature that would be worshipped by Pagan cults, or other such primitive groups. Rod couldn’t even tell you what the name of the bird was, just that he firmly disliked it, particularly its tendency to nip at one’s fingers should said person take too long in retrieving their letter. Plucking the envelope from its fierce talons, Rod shooed the bird away with a scowl and forceful flick of his wrist.

Needless to say, Rod was rather dumb-founded upon receiving his brother’s letter. It was written in his brother’s spidery scrawl, and surprisingly formal in tone. Close would not be a word used to describe the bond – or lack, thereof - shared between Rod and his younger brother. Though they had been close in their youth, that was not the case anymore. Rabastan was practically a stranger to him now. Perhaps that was why the letter sounded so proper; his brother was dancing circles around him, testing the limits of their relationship. To be honest, Rod hardly thought of his brother at all, almost as if he didn’t have a brother. He didn’t imagine that Rab ever thought of him either. For these particular reasons, Rod was perplexed by the letter. Why would Rab want to speak to Rod, especially after going all this time of not speaking?

Rod had supposed that all his queries would be answered upon reading the letter, but he found he was only more confused afterward. His brother had successfully mastered the art of vagueness. In fact, the art was mastered so well, that Rab had left his brother wanting to know more. Now Rod ha d no choice but to feed his curiosity and meet his brother at the specified location: the Black Lake.

Sighing, Rod making a mental to note to reprimand his brother for the short notice. He would have to cancel a prior engagement he had made. Poor, pretty Renee Allesbury who was probably already all mouthwatering and naked in the Room of Requirement. She would just have to wait.

The walk to the Black Lake was a more laborious trek than he normally would have liked to have made. But on this particular evening, a brisk walk in the cool, autumn air was just what he needed. Swaggering down the path, he could see the inky blot of the lake getting bigger and bigger as he drew nearer.

In his head, he went through all the reasons Rab could have summoned him here, some plausible and others down-right ridiculous. Perhaps Rab was hoping to get an in with Rod’s Firewhisky supplier (the drink was strictly prohibited on Hogwarts grounds). There was the chance good-boy Rab had gotten his nose into some trouble and was looking for some more experienced help from his older brother, who had an endless amount of expertise in this area. Maybe he’s accidentally killed someone and was looking to hide the body. Maybe he’d lured Rod here to kill him! Rodolphus laughed quietly to himself at that one. He was fairly certain that he could take his sissy brother in a duel, anyway. Eventually, Rod just resigned himself to accepting that he would just have to be patient. He would find out soon enough.

Finally he reached the edge of the Black Lake, taking in its dark vastness, and realizing how very little he came here. And there, on the outskirts was Rabastan, standing calmly and seeming comfortable in the chilling quiet. Rodolphus approached steadily, until he was within just a few feet.

“Well, baby brother, the only thing I can say is this: you’d better have dragged me out here for a good sodding reason, because I had plans to shag Renee Allesbury tonight.” Rodolphus leaned against a tree, his signature, smug smirk plastered on his lips.

The two brothers, for however different they were from each other in personality, were practically mirror images of one another. There was Rodolphus, with his arms crossed over his chest with a certain amount of condescention and arrogance. And then there was the younger of the two, Rabastan, likewise crossing his arms over himself, but as a defense against the world around him. A defense against the brother who had always ridiculed him and snubbed him. Well, not always. The two had once gotten along. As they stood there facing each other, Rod was briefly reminded of such times, but he forced such thoughts of his head, reminding himself to think on the present. They were no longer the same people they used to be.

A younger Rodolphus would have been concerned for his brother, would have seen how Rab was struggling to get the words out, struggling to trust Rodolphus again. A younger Rod would have urged him on with a sympathetic nod, comforting him in any way he could. But this new Rod, the one that had forgotten all about brotherhood, and love, and need simply looked onward with that stupid, arrogant smirk on his lips. He cocked his head to the side, wondering when the speechless git would just say what he had dragged Rod out here to say.

When Rab finally did speak, Rod remained composed, his eyebrows arched in interest, and his arms still complacently sitting across his chest. It was a fairly brief, frank speech, and any dimwit could see the care Rab had taken into getting it all out into the open. Not to mention the sligihtest bit of embarrassment the younger brother was no doubt feeling.

For a moment, nothing but silence passed between them. Rod was digesting all that Rab had said to him, nodding his head solemnly. To the uninitiated, it might have appeared that Rob was genuinely mulling over Rab's words, trying to come up with a practical solution. That was what any normal, caring brother would do, anyway. But anyone who knew Rod knew better than to expect that much out of the bloke. Suddenly, his laugh broke the silence. His laugh was so loud that the blackbirds, formerly nestled contentedly in the trees, tore away and flew off into the distsance. Rod was still laughing when the birds became nothing but inconsequential specks in the sky. Leaning on the tree for support, Rod gasped, catching his breat. "Haha! Oh God! Oh Merlin... so terribly sorry. No, really. Haha, Merlin, it's just too... too funny." Rod was practically on the verge of tears, and he could guess this wasn't the reaction his baby brother was expecting. However, he couldn't really be surprised either. Rod was a lousy tosser, and everyone knew it.

"Finally grew a pair to not be the last virgin at Hogwarts, yeah?" Rodolphus added callously, not particularly caring about his brother's feelings at the moment.

His laughter ceased, and Rod furrowed his brow in actual interest. Something had caught his attention. He mumbled a word quietly to himself, "Echoes... Echoes..." The surname seemed familiar enough, but he couldn't quite place it. "Echoes... am I supposed to know who that is?" Rodolphus wasn't exactly known for his tact.

Rodolphus was aware of the awkwardness of the entire situation. Despite his cool exterior, Rod was uncomfortable, to say the least. He could see the jealousy, and embarrassment, and confusion in his brother's eyes. However, Rod wasn't feeling any of these emotions; that wasn't why he was uncomfortable. It was strange, but after all these years of not caring, not wanting, not even thinking of his younger sibling, Rod felt the tiniest pang of guilt. It burned in his chest and he couldn't battle it away. Here was his younger brother, right before him. Rod had ignored him and embarrassed him. And Rod, for the briefest moment, felt terrible.

When they were younger, Rod had always dutifully played the role of the big brother. He'd been protective, playful, and instructive. Things he most certainly wasn't now. At night he would read epic poems and fairytales to Rabastan. In the afternoon, they'd play games. In point of fact, Rod had been the first one to teach Rab how to fly a broomstick whilst their lazy father wasted away in the privacy of quarters. It was safe to say - up until now, of course - that Rod had been the closest thing Rab had had to a parental figure. Their parents sure as hell were never there. Rod really wasn't sure what had happened between them. At point had the poisen set in? What had torn them apart after so many years of... loving each other?

Rod bristled at the thought, realizing he hadn't thought back on the early days of their childhood in ages. Clearing his throat, Rod shrugged his shoulders. He wouldn't let his brother see his guilt, his shame. Who was he if not Rodolphus Lestrange? The resident womanizer of Hogwarts School, reluctant fiance of Bellatrix Black, Slytherin Chaser, and general bad-ass. Half of the school would die to be in his shoes, and they were fantastic shoes to be in. He certainly wasn't big bro to Rabastan Lestrange, this black-haired boy he'd hardly spoken to in the last five years. Rod wasn't going to feel guilty. He wasn't his brother's keeper.

Admittedly, Rod was relatively moved by his brother's passionate speech. The monologue was unexpected, to say the least. Rod had always regarded his younger brother as the quieter of the two, the smart one, the thoughtful one, the insightful one. Rod was petty and lazy. Sure, he had a perpetual taste for adventure and possessed a thick-skin for most things, but he was arrogant and insensitive. These things had always been ok with him, had never once bothered him. As his brother spoke however, Rod sighed, but then, a name finally reached recognition.

Integra Echoes. He grinned at the thought, but turned his head so his brother wouldn't see. They'd had an on-again, off-again romance of sorts, though 'romance' was probably a bit of a stretch of the imagination. They'd shagged, plain and simple. No point in calling it something it wasn't. Rod finally found himself wondering how his simpleton brother had managed to bag only one of the finest girls in school. A mystery of mysteries, to be sure. Smirking, Rod stepped closer to Rab till they were just a foot apart. Setting his arm on his brother's shoulder, Rod nodded. "Ok, ok, Bette Midler, calm down. Tell me all about her." If Rabastan Lestrange wanted a brother, he got one. Soon he would have to pay that Echoes girl a little visit.

"Hm, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'll work on a better retort and get back you." Rod replied, slightly startled by that look of awe in his brother's eyes. It felt strange to be resting his hand on Rabastan's shoulder; he couldn't remember the last time they'd exchanged any sort of compassionate gesture. He did this with girls all the time though. He would caress their cheek with the palm of his hand, tuck a lock of hair behind their ear. He wooed them, and it worked every time. As silly as it might seem, he was doing the same thing with Rabastan now: making him feel safe and sound before Rod would pull the rug right from under him.

Rod felt that his younger brother had always held a certain fascination him. All his life Rod had took pleasure in knowing that Rab looked up to him, cared for him, longed to be him, even, to the point of obsession. Rod loved being an object of obsession. Rab had confessed it just now, that he saw his brother as practically a god, as some unhuman being that traversed the world in this mysterious, almost supernatural way. Even when they weren't on speaking terms, it was crystal clear that Rab cared for Rod in a way that Rodolphus never would. It were almost as if he simply wasn't capable of such emotion, and truthfully, the elder Lestrange brother could never understand that kind of unyielding loyalty. It was something he'd never possessed, and he wondered where his younger brother had gotten that virtue, anyway.

Pulling away, Rod stepped back and tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. It was so bitterly cold out here and Rod cursed his brother for choosing to meet out here in this blizzard. Really, would it have been so terrible to have this beautiful heart-to-heart in the Slytherin common room. Next to a warm, crackling fireplace. Regardless, he was here now, and there was nothing he could do about it. Rod had to play his part as the dutiful brother. As Rabastan spoke, Rod arched a brow. Integra Echoes. Ah, he did know that name. Tall, dark-haired vixen he shagged not too long back. He was debating now whether to break the news to Rab or simply keep that to himself. Which would play better in his favor? He smirked at the thought, knowing which route he'd go in the end.

The more Rabastan spoke, the more Rod realized what a completely naive sucker he was. First off, the boy was a virgin. Big mistake there. Apparently, he was a bad kisser, or at least needed practice. Lastly, and most important of all, he was coming to his brother for advice. Do you think Rod ever took on a confidante or asked anyone for their input on his love life? Bollocks! If he wanted a girl, he just went out an pursued. He didn't ask questions, didn't second-guess himself. If you ever doubted yourself, even for just a second, that's when you lost. He smiled sincerely - albeit, it was forced - and laughed slightly. "You're over-thinking this, Rab. Now, I'm not about to shove my tongue down your throat and show you how it's done, but I suppose I can lend you a few pointers. Can't have you embarrassing the family and all." Really, what did Integra Echoes see in this prat? Did she just feel like slumming? Well, he'd get her to change her mind about that.

"I..." he began, but then stopped himself. Rod had never really given it much thought before. He liked women. He liked sex. That was really the end of the story. There was no use examining his choice of vices. He'd been an expert at making women swoon since an early age. It all started with his mother, actually. No time to talk about that, though. Rab was right. All Rod had to do was smile and they were all his. If Rod had to guess, it was because he was sure of himself, to the point of arrogance. It was all about making them want you, toying with them. Oddly, he found that when he was a jerk to them, they simply wanted him more. Girls were so peculiar. "Well, it helps that I look the way I do," he flashed that smile of his, but then sighed. He had to be helpful. Or at least feign it.

"In all seriouness, baby brother, you're a Lestrange. It's in our blood to be the best at everything, that includes bedding pretty birds. Just don't think about it so much. If it doesn't come to you, we'll go out to Knockturn Alley and buy yourself a nice whore to practice with. How's that sound? Brushing back his hair with his hand, Rod stepped closer toward the water's edge, looking out at the evening fog. Casually, he added, "I remember being in between Echoes's legs. From what I recall, she's not especially picky. Just as long as you're there, she's satisfied. But remember, you do have big shoes to fill. After all..." Jackpot.

That arrogant smile remained glued to his face, and with a touch of condescending pity, Rod replied, "Oh brother... there's attractive. And then there's me," Patting his shoulder in mock comfort, he added, "Don't feel too bad."" No, even Rodolphus had the balls to admit that his brother was very good-looking. If he didn't carry that self-deprecating frown everywhere he went, he might have gotten more than that nympho, Integra.

It was actually always an immense fear of his that one day Rab would finally grow into his big boy clothes and take advantage of what God gave him. Rab could be the desire of all woman if he wanted. As Rod had said earlier, he was a Lestrange, after all. These were thoughts he could never vocalize however. Silently, he stared out onto the lake, feeling the tension between them. Never had they been so close yet so far apart.

At the mention of their parents, Rodolphus nodded sagely. He couldn't have agreed more, to be honest. No person was a greater fuck-up than Phraxos and Lyra Lestrange. Their father was nothing more than a rich, oaf. He was a coward who would live under the dark and quiet of his bed if he could. Rodolphus hated to claim that man as his blood relative; it sent chills of sheer loathing throughout his body to even think of them. And then his mother... Lyra Lestrange. He didn't even have words for her. But she was the dark, twisted thing that haunted him at night. It really wasn't until this moment that he realized how much Rabastan hated their parents, as well. Though Rodolphus was the pride and joy of their parents, as they were constantly doting upon him and comparing Rab to him, Rodolphus hated every second of it. They were the two people he could never enjoy a compliment from. Bitterly, he replied, "Those two chumps never did a good, sodding thing, did they?" His voice was low, to the point that Rabastan would have struggled to hear him clearly.

Realizing the mood had grown a little darker, he eyed Rab with a smirk, motioning abstractedly toward him. "Well, if you don't want to embarrass me, Rab, you might want to re-think that hair." For a brief moment, he forgot all about Integra and his insane need to possess her, to keep her away from this brat of a brother of his. For a moment, it was like as if they were kids again, exchanging playful banter back and forth. He meant nothing by his comment, simply joking in his typical fashion. But then he remembered his goals, what it was he wanted, and he reconciled that Rab would just have to take the fall.

He watched as Rab pulled out a white stick from his coat and Rod wrinkled his face in confusion. What was that he was sticking in his mouth? Come to think of it, he'd seen Maxwell with one of those the other day. He appeared to be enjoying it, but Rod had never questioned him on it. It was a Muggle product wasn't it? Curious, he edged closer. He leaned in slightly, and then peered up at his brother. "Do tell me, what is that?" He took in the scent of the smoke at Rab lit the end, and he watched with mild fascination as the tip glowed orange. Then the smoke became too much and he pulled back, clearing his throat.

Before Rod could get his answer though, he was being pushed up against the tree, his brother glaring furiously into his eyes. He was alarmed, sure, but that lasted for only a millisecond before a new feeling seeped into him. It was... pride. "Bollocks!" he exclaimed when the scalding tip of the cigarette connected with his skin. He bit his lower lip, quelling any further curses. Rod wanted to be angry, wanted to be furious, actually. But all he could do was look upon Rabastan with an expression of pride. "Well, looky there..." he breathed with a smirk. "Perhaps someone's in there, after all."

“A cigarette.” Rodolphus echoed dubiously. He was curious, he'd admit, but he couldn't imagine sticking one of those things in his mouth. Shrugging his shoulders, he shook his head and looked out onto the dark water before them. “Well, considering I can't remember the last time I actually attended Muggle Studies...” The elder Lestrange brother didn't finish his sentence, just breathed in Rab's second-hand smoke.

What Rabastan said next though caught Rod's attention. One moment they'd been discussing Rab's sexual prowess – or lack, thereof – and now they'd suddenly moved on to the fate of Rodolphus' future? Interesting turn on events, indeed. Rodolphus crossed his arms over his shoulder, unsure of how to answer. He could ponder it for a bit like any bloke with a brain, or he could reply with a smart-ass quip like he usually did. “Well, I'm a work-in-progress,” Rod replied with a joking smirk. He could tell by that serious glint in his brother's eyes though, that that wasn't the sort of answer he was looking for. Rodolphus sighed, willing himself not to roll his eyes at the heart-to-heartness of it all. Rodolphus would be lying if he said he never thought about the future. He did. From time to time, anyway. It wasn't something that was a constant concern of his, though he had to admit that he'd become more preoccupied with such thoughts the closer graduation day came. His future. That was a riddle if he ever heard one.

Rodolphus was a fair flyer and he liked the idea of becoming a professional Quidditch player. The only thing that put him off of it was the knowledge that talent wouldn't be enough. He'd actually have to apply himself. Dragons had always fascinated him and working with them would certainly be both intriguing and action-packed. But again, it applied discipline and hard-work, two things Rodolphus was not in possession of. What could he do then? Join the Ministry? Fuck that. He'd always entertained the luxury of living off his family's wealth and nothing else. It was certainly do-able, as the Lestrange wealth was vast and plentiful. He didn't give a rat's ass what his parents thought of him, or even what the wizarding world thought of his lack of ambition. As long as he was fed, shagged, and clothed, he was perfectly happy. Nevertheless...

“Rabastan...” Rod began slowly. His voice had grown darker and surprisingly honest. “You don't understand. You have every opportunity before you. You're smart; smarter than I'll ever be. I have no talent. Just a smile and a good name. There are so many things I would like to do and see, but even I'm not thick enough to think I could amount to anything. I'm Rodolphus Lestrange. Bellatrix's future husband. The lazy, ineffectual spawn of Phraxos and Lyra Lestrange. The world doesn't expect anything of me.” He looked out onto the lake as he said this, expression stern, and suddenly feeling more hopeless than he'd ever felt in his entire life.