Failure By Design || Lestranges

Rodolphus was in the boy's lavatory and he was vomiting; teary-eyed, stinging throat, body hunch-backed over a formerly pristine toilet, vomiting. His entire body felt as if it were encased in a sleeve of ice and fire, making him gasp, making him tremble. Ribs cracking. Throat thickening. Muscles aching. He was falling apart. In this bright, harsh place, Rodolphus was quarantined from the rest of the world and he wanted it to stay that way. Lifting his head extremely slowly from the stomach-turning mess he'd created, Rod exhibited a quiet moan and closed his eyes. His head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds and everything surrounding him was nothing but a hyper-intense blur. How he could've died then. Just crawl inside himself and die. It wasn't the gnarled twist in his gut that was making him sweat though. And it wasn't the freezing draft creeping in from the open window that was making him shake. It was something else entirely. Something he couldn't even name.

Ever since the Headmaster had announced Familia Visitandum, otherwise known as Parent's Weekend, Rodolphus had been in a turmoil. Why, he wasn't exactly sure, but the moment that event had been broadcast to the public, Rodolphus had descended into a perpetual and all-consuming turmoil. He imagined that every student at Hogwarts was sweating with anticipation at the notion of their parents invading their sacred heaven for even just a weekend. This was boarding school, wasn't it? Wasn't the whole point of such an institution to get away from mommy and daddy? Rodolphus supposed his reasons for hating his parents were about as run-of-the-mill as any rebellious teenager. His father was an embarrassing oaf, and his mother was a bitch. Plain and simple. After all, it was they who had controlled his every move growing up. It was they who had forced him into marrying Bellatrix Black. It was practically a requirement for a child to hate their parents in the wealthy, pure-blood sector of the world. Even still, something about Phraxos and Lyra Lestrange unsettled him more than anything else. It couldn't just be simple, childhood rebellion could it?

When the sun peeked above the horizon, Rod had fled here to this bathroom almost immediately, seeking refuge in its quiet loneliness, its stark brightness, the mold crawling upward toward the ceiling. Rod wouldn't be surprised to be vomiting if he'd been partying heavily the night before. But he hadn't. In fact, Rod had gone to bed early last night in front of the crackling fire place, settled and undisturbed. The golden splendor of the sun beamed down on his haggard figure, warming his arched back, his tense shoulders. The sun's fingers coiled themselves in his disheveled hair, and stiffly, Rodolphus shied away from it. He hid himself in a dark corner of the open stall, ignoring the putrid stench that was beginning to fill the entire bathroom. How long could he lie here till it was absolutely necessary for him to leave? He wanted to hold out as long as possible. Choking back a cry, Rod leaned back and heaved a deep sigh. He was almost out of time. Just a few more seconds. He didn't even know why he was acting like this. Why was he acting like this?

Rubbing his reddened eyes, Rod stood. His legs shook beneath his weight for a seconds. He steadied himself by gripping the wall and then staggered out toward the Slytherin dungeons. Had had to get dressed. Had to make himself presentable for Phraxos and Lyra. They would be expecting it. Hastily, Rod shed his soiled clothes for a black button-down and black slacks. He didn't bother with his hair which was now sweaty and in a frenzy. But he knew he was running late and he couldn't keep them waiting any longer. Lyra didn't like to be kept waiting.

Rodolphus was just about to start toward the Great Hall where are the parents were gathering, till something caught his eye. Someone. He turned around immediately, an annoyed expression plastered on his face. It was a skulking figure, someone he didn't recognize. “Hey, you. What do ya--” and then he stopped, because he realized who it was he was talking to. There was a mirror on the adjacent wall and his reflection stared back at him. Everything looked a bit muddled. This person looking at him could be himself, could it? This person was faint, and dark, and not at all familiar. Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at this person, failing to know even himself. Feeling a strange fluttering in his chest, Rod glanced away and exited the common room without another thought. What a terrible place to hang a mirror.

When he entered the Great Hall, squinting his eyes and faltering in his steps, Rodolphus looked every bit of mess. He noticed a few parents casting him a few dubious, disapproving looks, but he ignored them. It was then that he spied his dutiful brother seated at the Slytherin table, stiff-backed, serious as ever. Actually, Rod was rather surprised that Rab had even shown up. It was no secret that Rod was the favorite son and that Rod was usually left in the dark. What was he doing here? Swaggering up to him, Rod began to sit beside him. Stumbled. Fumbled. He then caught his balance and seated himself slowly. Inwardly, his heart was racing. His nerves were a mile high. Whatever for, he couldn't tell you. On the outside though, he was as casual as usual, even if he was a bit awkward in his steps. Flashing his brother a smile, Rod began to nibble on a croissant that was laying on a platter in the center of the table. “Nothing like forced, family-bonding to make one an early riser, eh?”

When Rod showed up Rabastan knew something was wrong. Traces of sweat were still lingering on his brow and hair lines that it threw him for a loop. The only time he's seen his brother look this haggard was after a night of binge drinking or rumpus rounds between the sheets, but that wasn't the case. "Bonding for you perhaps." His voice was quiet as he stood from the bench next to Rod as their mother made her way towards them. Staying in his place was going to be hard for the poor boy. Not even a hello or a How are you? escaped from his mother's lips in his direction instead she flowered Rodolphus with the usual. Crossing his arms across his chest like he had so many times before, the once long haired boy became the introvert he had been just a few weeks ago.

Face devoid of all feeling as Rodolphus got all the praise, the doting was almost toxic as it filled the air around them and Rabastan was left to stand behind the pair. Their father off talking with the other pureblood members, all the while Lyra was offering her trophy winning son private tutoring. Jealousy had peaked more than it had in previous encounters with his parents. Usually at home he would be cooped up in his bedroom allowing the darkness to consume him with only himself to keep him company. The things he did when he was alone and only his mind kept all the creatures at bay. Wicked and repulsive concoctions had been made that he would deliver to objects he had transfigured; only to watch them die by his hand. All of these thoughts were private, but his mother brought them all back.

Eyes lifting a little he caught gaze with Integra who was sitting down the table just a fair few feet with her father who was trapped in conversation. It was a little jaunt before he turned his attention back on the two before him. 'When you're so far above everyone else here.' Those words struck a cord with him. Rodolphus wasn't above anyone when it came to lessons and Rabastan knew that first hand. Swallowing hard he kept his arms crossed and his stature completely erect, unmoving as if he were a statue on the front lawn of some famous witch or wizard. No smile broke his solemn features and they were completely unreadable, Rabastan had once again successfully closed himself off from the pain. The only reason he was here happened to be the one thing Lyra was pouring her heart to.

There were other things he could be doing other than standing here watching his brother get all the credit for things he had done. Both of them were chasers for the house team, but their parents only praised Rodolphus for his position, maybe they hadn't a clue in the world that he was also flying for the Slytherin house. Mind wandering to dark places as his eyes locked on the back of his mother's head. The things he could do without her looking or regarding his existence we beyond imagination.

Rab reached down for his wand that happened to be tucked between his boot and ankle. Acting as though he were itching his calf he slipped the wooden instrument into the sleeve of his jacket. Eyes moving around the room slowly, he could do it. He could remove all the hurt and annoyance in one fell swoop. The room was beginning to become a blur as parents and children moved around him. His eyes still boring a hole into her skull. No one was watching, Rodolphus looked just as uncomfortable as he felt, but no one else could see what Rabastan saw in him.

Letting the wand slide against his forearm and into his palm, he pointed it at his mother with a solid arm and whispered the incantation for the imperio curse. A pale almost invisible mist surrounded her head and a sick, nearly demented smile creased his lips. Oh for so long he wanted to do this. Her body went rigid and flat, her voice silenced mid-sentence as he willed her to stand and take two steps toward the long stony wall. His pupils dilated from the high he was getting off of the power and complete control over the woman who he so hated.

Her palms met with the cool interior, lips curling into a sadistic and satisfied smile Rabastan altered his direction. With one shift in thought he watched the face of panic grab hold of his mother as her head lulled back, hair touching just below her shoulder blades. A flash of pleasure filled his eyes with a longing so hardcore that the room seemed to stand still, tilting his head to the side Rabastan flashed his pearly whites just as her forehead came into full contact with the rippled crag of the wall. Blood began to run down her face from the contact, but he made he repeat it over and over until she couldn't stand any longer. Just a heap of nothing laying on the floor in all of her riches. A laugh escaped his lips...

Blinking Rabastan snapped back to reality, the laugh had escaped his lips in a sort of huff, but he was disappointed in the fact that his mother was still sitting happily next to his brother. A place he longed to be accepted, but knew he never would. A spark of genius bolted across his mind. What would happen if they switched places for a few days, walked in each others shoes and followed the footsteps of their brother, so much could be learned. So much could be taught and understand could overcome the both of them. Rabastan did have a stock pile of the stuff from when he decided to brew the Polyjuice potion one night over the summer.

LYRA LESTRANGE Mother of RODOLPHUS AND RABASTAN LESTRANGE; Portrayed by KARA

The laugh from her youngest seemed in response to what Rodolphus had said. At first Lyra had no intention to respond to the presence of Rabastan, as always. But now that he'd practically been forced into the talk subject, Lyra had only three choices. Ignore him entirely as well as the comment. As appropriate as that sounded it didn't give the sense of loathing she wanted to convey. She could dismiss him with a down putting comment and a wave of her hand, before going on to the next thing. However, that seemed so routine. And having been away from them, Lyra was feeling particularly vicious. So that left only torture.

Mrs. Lestrange knew just how to push buttons and just what to say to make Rabastan furious. He'd be insane to do anything about it in front of everyone here. She had the upper hand at this point. Blinking her thickly coated sparse eyelashes, Lyra looked up to Rabastan, a cool thin smile on her lips. "How interesting. Here I had all bets on you never growing a spine. It's so nice to hear you actually have testicles. And a violent streak to boot. Thrilling."

Her eyes trailed over to her husband who was just now sitting. The entire table seemed to have a stiff air about it. The Echoes girl was sitting on the opposite side of the table looking empty and hollow, talking to her father. Or rather staring at the table as Ichabod spoke to her. Licking her thin dry lips, Lyra looked back over her shoulder at Rabastan and breathed for a little while. "So sorry we had to pick Alecto darling. Seems that bitch you've began courting, is simply a bad egg. Don't think we haven't heard all about it. Arcadia Echoes and I speak so very much. The poor woman is just raving mad we didn't choose her slut of a daughter as a wife for you. But we couldn't have our apples falling very far from their tree. Arcadia is such a little trollop I doubt Integra's even a pureblood. At any rate, I doubt she'd Ichabod's child."

With a little shrug she looked down at a cup of tea that had been set before her. Sipping at it. Lyra cleared her throat. "Heavens... I hope she's not gotten to you. Such a poison. Aught to go to Saint Mungo's this Christmas. I don't think that filthy family believes in shots or tonics. Rabastan, please tell me you aren't seeing her anymore. Lord what could have happened if either of you had fathered a child with that disease ridden corpse. Even you could do better Rabastan."