rodolphuslcstrange-blog

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

underneathsilk:

Despite what she knew, she was drawn in by his grin and his words, even if she could see the lie in between. She had missed him terribly, while he had another woman in his arms. Maybe he had missed her, but she knew he didn’t feel the same ache she had inside her. She had no right to be upset, or angry. Their entanglement had been casual with strictly no strings attached. But Josie had fallen, with those deep dark eyes of his that pierced her soul, a smile that made her feel like she was the only person it was for, and a touch that set her heart aflame. She’d broken the rule, and he was going to break her heart. She moved to sit on one of the armrests of the chair with a playful smirk. “Maybe I enjoyed the peace and quiet.” she teased, looking down at him. “But of course. You better take me somewhere nice. You do owe me, after all.”

"Peace and quiet is overrated, and Merlin, you're starting to sound like every other old bastard that we know," he rolled his eyes playfully, walking to the other side of her desk. Rodolphus extended both of his hands in front of hers, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her expectantly to take his hands and rise to her feet. His grin was honest and wide. "Anything you want, anything in the world, even. We've got time, and I'm sure the Ministry won't burn to the ground in your absence. Just say the world - but please don't let me pick, because you know I'll disappoint you. Between the two of us, you've always been the one with far superior taste." That much was true. Her elegance served as a guiding light for him, more often than not, like the beacon of a lighthouse. She carried herself like a queen, and he had always treated her as one, even if his attentions had fallen to the wayside in recent weeks. But he was determined to make up for lost time now.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

helena-rosier:

There was a ringing in her ears that drown out everything else around her. Rodolphus had undermined her to the press; reduced her down to nothing more than a microphone for the ministry. The interviewers words had little effect on her - she already knew what certain people thought of her. However, she hadn’t expected Rodolphus to agree with them. His backhanded compliments hurt worse than if he’d just hit her. Throughout the entirety of her life, Helena fought hard to keep her thoughts and beliefs her own. It was something she’d been open about during the election, and to have him discredit her was both infuriating and devastating.

Emotion swirled in her chest and threatened to lash out. She’d grown used to the disapproval of her family; the hatred and condescending attitudes that tried to cut her down from childhood. From her parents blatant dislike for her antics, to her brother’s distance, Helena had grown numb to the being talked down to. It was the same treatment she got from Amycus, only he acted far crueler towards her. Rodolphus was the one person that had held her up since childhood, that had encouraged her while the rest of the world tried to shut her up. Betrayal flooded her mouth, and willed the overwhelming sense of suffocation to leave her lungs.

As she retreated from the prophet, she felt as if she was underwater - everything muffled and muted. Had he not grabbed her arm, the one that still had painful bruises littering them, she wouldn’t have stopped. However, Helena couldn’t hide the hiss of pain that came from her lips, nor the undeniable flinch that wrecked through her as she mentally prepared herself for a harsher blow. Without hesitation, she hastily pulled her arm out of his grasp. Helena rounded on him, her eyes holding a hint of wildness behind them, but as quickly as her composure broke, her walls were built back up, “You don’t get to touch me” she seethed; hurt and betrayal dripping from her words. “You need me to what Rodolphus? Listen to you explain why you discredited me and undermined me to the press?” Helena asked, forcing herself to keep her voice low as to avoid a scene. “I have been let down, silenced, and shut down by almost every man in my life Rodolphus, but you - Merlin, I thought you were better than this. I thought I could trust you not to use me for your own personal game. Turns out you’re not any better than the rest of them”.

Her hiss of pain, her flinch away from him - he pulled his arm back as if the touch of his hand against her arm had burned. Years of brotherly instinct - protective and steadfast - overruled his current concerns immediately. His eyes flashed with anger - not at her, never at her. Even at his most disappointed, even at that fateful day in the Ministry that she had dared to act against the platform's desires, he could never turn to her with anger or violence. No, this anger was mingled with confusion. He cocked his head to the side, an apprehensive set to his shoulders. "What in the - Helena, what happened? Are you hurt?" It didn't matter how much she disappointed him. It didn't matter that she probably hated every fiber of his being at the moment - and she would certainly be justified in feeling that way, he thought. All that mattered was if someone had dared to lay a hand on her, he would make them suffer that pain a thousand times over. He had promised her that years ago - not to her face, but it was a vow that he had made to her brother, then only seven but so wise beyond his age. He couldn't protect her from herself - he had convinced himself that she chose this life of politics. That she knew and understood all the betrayals and power plays that came along with it. But in all other aspects, Rodolphus was prepared to keep that promise with every last ounce of strength in his tired bones.

He shook his head. "I warned you that this..." he struggled for words, for air. It was much simpler to speak with the cold indifference of a politician to a reporter, an analyst, a random face in the crowd who stopped and asked for his opinion. But to look into Helena's brown eyes - eyes that had once met his own across a crowded ballroom, that had relied upon him to pull away the cloying attentions of the other guests - now flashed with something wild, something untamed. They flashed with a life and with a nerve that his own had never dared to possess. "You chose to enter this world. You could have made your difference in the world, improved people's lives just fine had you stayed in Mungo's, but it was you who decided to walk into the lion's den when you wanted to run in the first place. Just look what I had done to Amycus - what you had done to help me take him down. A man whom I convinced was his best friend, his confidante. All of this is a game of blood, Helena, so don't pretend that your hands are clean. Many before you have suffered far worse than disagreements on public policy."

Had he been someone else in that moment - his mother or Rabastan - he would have known that his voice had matched his father's exactly in pitch and in tone. Condescending, dismissive - everything that he resented so much in his father, and he didn't even realize it was who he had become. His voice turned cold, mechanical. Rodolphus worked to extract himself from the moment, as if he were watching as an outsider. He tried to channel that icy logic that he had so often observed in Severus, that masterful divorce from his emotions and his thoughts. Her words sent another dagger through his chest, and he felt his nerve splintering at the seams. "My personal game?" he repeated, his voice low and even. "Helena, what I represent is much more than what I want - it's what the people who have put their trust in me, in us, in you want. And you let them all down. Did you expect me to follow suit - to ignore their demands and their protestations, so that we'd have a mass insurrection through the streets?" His voice rose in pitch at the end. The idea that the political climate in wizarding London could worsen any more was not one he liked to dwell upon.

Watch it Break, Watch it Burn || Rod & Helena

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

muse headcanons!

send me a symbol and i’ll tell you:

☠: my muse’s biggest fear ☮: when my muse feels the most at ease ☺: something that makes my muse happy ☹: something that makes my muse upset ♫: my muse’s favorite song, band, and/or music genre ✇: my muse’s favorite movie, director, and/or film genre ♔: my muse’s celebrity crush(es) ❤: what my muse looks for in a person they like ☂: my muse’s favorite season or time of year ∞: if my muse believe in ghosts, aliens, etc. ✧: what my muse’s netflix queue looks like ✎: what my muse’s best subject in school is/was ♧: something my muse is really good at ✺: something my muse loves and never gets tired of ✗: something my muse hates or gets angry about ☆: what my muse would be famous for if they were famous ✿: what my muse would like to do when they’re older ✈: where my muse would go if they could move anywhere ✆: the last person my muse called and what it was about ✉: the last person my muse texted and what the text said

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

cornerstoneheart:

Regulus, who had always been so intimidated by the older man, didn’t feel that same fear at his approach. He gave a small chuckle, remembering the last time they’d seen each other. But there was less humour in it than it sounded. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep a tight hold on this one.” he responded “How’s your night been?” he asked as he top a sip from his drink.

The chuckle that fell from the younger man's lips caused a crease to appear on Rodolphus's forehead. "Oh please, enough about me - I'm sure everyone here is tired enough of hearing my voice. Let's talk about you. Not enjoying the party, Regulus?" he pondered with a raised eyebrow. He tried to offer him a kinder smile, though the tired lines around his eyes might have diminished its shine. "My trick - get drunk enough, and you'll forget all about your problems, if only for the night." He raised his own glass of champagne as he spoke.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

dorcasmeadoe:

“It’s utterly heinous.” Dorcas rolled her eyes. Finding it utterly distasteful that those who did nothing got more respect than those who did everything. Only because they came from different families. “Where do you fit into all of this?” She challenged him, glimpsing up at him through makeup-clad eyelashes. “Were your ancestors smarter then you could ever be or do you have more to offer, Mr. Lestrange?” Her voice was flirtatious, but words pointed. At his comment, she offered him a delicate shrug of her bare shoulders, belaying indifference–not giving him signs of her curiosity, “That depends on your proposal.”

Rodolphus gave the airs as someone in control. A man who liked to get what he wanted and rarely took no for an answer. His behavior wasn’t new. But it’s been a while since she’s engaged in pleasurable pursuits. And he was interested. Dorcas may find his circle distasteful. But he was decently attractive, and that was really all that mattered. The twitch of his eyes filled her with a small bit of glee–score one for the muggle-born girl with wings adjourning her back  “Private security?” She tilted her head, thinking about his proposal, “Colour me intrigued.”

"I've much to offer, Ms. Meadowes, but only if you're willing to take it," he purred, deferring to her challenge, allowing her to gain the upper hand and dominate the power play between the two of them. In his experience, there were some partners who preferred a guiding hand - one to manipulate them, to incite and excite them. And then there were others, ones who liked to command attention, to assume control - and Rodolphus predicted that Dorcas Meadowes fell into the latter category. He prayed that he wouldn't be mistaken with his assumption.

The languid roll of her shoulders and the tilt of her head drew him in closer, his heart beating faster. The ambient noise of the ballroom - the violinists, the murmuring chatter, the relentlessly curious eyes that still refused to look away - began to fade into the background of his awareness. His eyes remained focused solely upon hers. "I'm grateful for the opportunity to intrigue someone as enticing as you," he murmured. "The details, the fine print - they can be discussed at a later time. I'd hate for you to spend your entire evening bored to tears by such things, not when there are plenty of other activities that might be worthy of your attentions instead."

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

amycuscarrw:

“It’s nothing much, really,” he said, false modesty spilling from his mouth. Amycus still wore his previous smile, fingers tapping on the armchair. “Although it does take a strong willed wizard, if you know what I mean.” It didn’t surprise anyone when the Carrow boy could so easily perform spells that took a certain degree of darkness. Most of his colleagues had to practice until they finally found it in them to hurt someone else; for Amycus, it was as natural as falling asleep. “This is the kind of curse that only works if you really mean it. Do you have the guts, Rod?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

Amycus furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief, scoffing at the mere idea of muggle studies. He shook his head, taking another sip from his lemonade, chuckling with arrogance as he placed his cup back on the table. “Hogwarts is a school for chickens and mudbloods. I have absolutely no idea why your parents would send you there.” Amycus enjoyed his interest; he didn’t often find anyone he had the patience to talk to, let alone teach anything. When the other boy said he had practiced the cruciatus curse, a smirk appeared on his features. “Have you been successful? It’s not for everyone,” he commented, not even bothering to hide the cockiness in his voice. At Rodolphus’s question, all the friendliness in Amycus’s expression died. “Of course not, Rodolphus. I’m not stupid. I can’t hurt people from my family’s social circle,” he explained as if it was obvious. “Father wouldn’t allow me.”

"'Do I have the --'" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Do you even know me, Amycus? Of course I do." He said the words to convince himself as much as Amycus. There was a taboo attached to the topics at hand, inspiring a certain thrill inside of him that he didn't care to examine. Naturally, Rickard Lestrange had instructed his two sons, the two hounds he had shaped in his image, in the Dark arts, but to discuss it with someone his own age was thrilling. "Let me guess - summon as much hatred in your heart as you can, and focus it on that person? Like a reverse Patronus - instead of happiness, focus on the anger?"

He raised his glass at Amycus's words. "No truer words have ever been spoken," he sighed, finishing the rest of his glass and setting it down against the table. "It's a legacy more than anything. Tradition and all that. Had I been realized then, I would have begged to attend Durmstrang as well. The school really has gone to the dumps - the sympathizers are honestly the worst of the lot." The very mention brought a scornful look into his eyes, at the thought of such hallowed, prestigious halls tainted by those who did not deserve to even set foot inside such an institution. He bristled at Amycus's tone, not appreciating the inflection of his words - as if the answer were obvious, as if Rodolphus were silly to not realize it himself. Still he swallowed that feeling, maintaining his mask of excited curiosity. "Well, you're certainly make a name for yourself. No one shall ever dare touch the Carrow family ever again - and they'd be wise to learn that lesson sooner rather than later." Careful, sly, needling - all a calculated effort to stroke the other boy's ego.

a summer afternoon || flashback

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

alvctc:

It had been over a decade since she’d been to the Lestrange manor and there were so many rooms it was easy to get lost inside but she really had to use the restroom. She found a door that looked promising only to find it locked but she couldn’t wait anymore so she rapped hard on the door after hearing the telltale signs of kissing. When the door swung open she was half shocked to find Rodolphus, and Emmeline. “Okay, so you’re busy but I really need to pee so — find somewhere else to hide your hookup please.”

The flush of his cheeks vanished as soon as he met eyes with the youngest Carrow. His demeanor shifted entirely, all traces of amusement vanishing from his features. "Ms. Carrow, how lovely to see you again," he spoke with an icy tone. "Surely you recall that there are a great number of other facilities throughout the manor at your disposal. It wasn't that long ago that our families called one another friends, after all." Any amicable feelings he might have had for Alecto Carrow had vanished when she declared herself for the Uprising and had run for Undersecretary under their banner. This ball may have required that an invitation be extended to his political rivals as well, but it did not mean that he had to hide his scorn for her.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

expectantmary:

Even though it was his home, Rodolphus had been the last person that she expected to see come through that door. Which was rather dumb, she supposed, since it was his house. But she hadn’t really thought about the fact that she would more than likely run into him at some point during the night. Mary was taken aback by the tone of his voice. He sounded angry. She supposed that he had a right to be angry, she hadn’t told him that she was coming, but at the same time, she felt like he shouldn’t be angry. “It was Sev’s idea,” she said, as he closed the door behind him. She bit down on her lip. “It’s for charity, I couldn’t miss that,” She said. She looked down at her son in her arms, and he seemed to be waking up. “It’s a lovely event,” she said.

His hiss of laughter was humorless. Of course Severus would want Mary paraded around mere days after childbirth - he suspected it was meant to be a display of strength, of solidarity between the two of them. "You should be resting, not on your feet," he reiterated. His hands gestured to the empty leather-bound sofa and his hands rested along her upper arms in an attempt to guide her to sit down. As he stepped closer, he noticed the quiet bundle in her arms in the poorly lit room. His breath died in his throat. He watched the flickering of Nik's eyelids, a telltale sign that the noise around him was enough to stir him from his slumber at last. "Why did you bring him here, Mary?" he hissed. "You know that he is never supposed to see the insides of this manor at all. It's not safe for him here." Not in the lion's den, not when his enemies lurked in every shadowy corner. He prayed that she would not walk past the enchanted portraits of his ancestors with Nikolaus in her arms; he had a feeling that they would recognize one of their own immediately.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

severelyseverust:

You and I both, Severus thought to himself, though he laughed along with the crowd as he caressed Nik’s head. He saw Rodolphus’ eyes and his anger, and the words between them. He didn’t care. He had lost the right as father as cruel as the thought was, he wanted to be a leader then it was about time he acted like one. “It’s in my hopes he will be like his mother, and no one else,” He said, his tone soft and caring towards the child, but the jab at Rodolphus clear in his voice, no. No one else would understand that but them. His eyes looked back at him definitely, it’s not for you to decide, they replied. This child, by all accounts, was Mary’s in Severus’ eyes. He was pure, and untainted, she had dealt with everything on her own, he had left, and perhaps the child would look like Rodolphus, but then what did that make Rodolphus? Nothing more than a sperm donor that loved the innocence and legacy more than the child itself. No, he didn’t know what it meant to be a father. Mary and him were the ones awake at night, soothing the crying child, seeing him grow, and blink, and breathe, while Rodolphus juggled a fiance, a lover, and played with another’s heart. Rodolphus wanted the world and the more time passed since the Blue Moon the more Severus thought Rodolphus didn’t deserve it. “You look quite nice tonight, as does your fiance, we are all looking forward to seeing you dance,” He said with a smile on his face, remember your duties. You signed up for this, if you don’t have the balls, then step down, his words said in between.

"Ah yes, Ms. MacDonald!" Rodolphus exclaimed. "How is she - resting at home, I hope?" They both knew the answer to that, and Rodolphus was sure that Severus could read his disapproval in his eyes. How odd, that over the years they had grown so close to one another that entire conversations could be held without a single word spoken between them. But lately he had felt a divide, a distancing and a disapproval in the other man's eyes that Rodolphus found unsettling and worrisome. He will be like his mother, and no one else. Rodolphus would never admit to it, but he wished the same for his child's fate. May he never be as easily swayed, as manipulated, and as selfish as his father. The smile on his face remained tight, and the tension between the two men grew more and more palpable. "Narcissa always looks stunning - I wasn't lying when I said that she is my much, much better half," he remarked, more to the others still gathered around them than to Severus himself. "But the real question is when will we get to see you dance? Surely with a child in your arms all night, you must take the moment to enjoy yourself as well." Rodolphus wished his eyes did not flicker down to Nik at just that moment. He prayed that Severus would not read into the movement as greed, as desire. Even so, as soon as he saw his eyes mirrored back in his son's, he felt a possessive tendril wrap around his throat, and his palms itched by his sides to touch his newborn's soft skin again.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

daggersareagirlsbestfriend:

“Why because you were being oh so quiet?” Kamila snapped back as if he were a child. She was younger and yet, here they were. “My point exactly, campaign manager is drooling more than the child and the head of the mansion is nowhere to be found, we look weak,” She said, the word cold as ice. As she asked her she groaned, raising her skirt to pull out a piece of white cloth, ignoring the three knives next to it as she offered it to Rodolphus. “Clean up, straighten up, and come out and follow me, I have someone I want you to meet,” She said with a glint in her eye that said this was important. “You’re the face of a revolution so show up,” She said as she pushed him back and closed the door.

He felt a flicker of annoyance and he wondered for a moment if Kamila ever spoke to Emmeline in such a manner, or if she saved such chastisement just for him. "Ms. Parkinson, allow me to remind you that I understand perfectly well how to host galas and parties," he countered, though he spoke with no true anger or malice, simply tired irritation at being interrupted. Rodolphus watched as she raised her skirt and pulled out a white fabric and handed it to him. For a moment he pondered whether his eyes were playing tricks on him as he eyed the three knives situated next to the cloth. He shook his head, deciding that now, with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair askew, was not the right time to ask. With a nod of gratitude, he allowed himself to be pushed back in inside again. When he reappeared, Rodolphus looked as if he had never disappeared at all - save for the telltale bruising forming at the base of his neck. He closed the door behind him as he strode down the hall with Kamila. "Now, what was it that was so pressing that you needed to seek me out?"

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

“But that’s enough about what you’re planning to do - let’s talk about the current climate in London right now,” the voice grated. Rodolphus wondered if perhaps the media oversaturation had grown tiring to the public, if perhaps they had grown tired of seeing his face and his words splashed upon the front page of every magical media outlet. “Now it was no question that you - well that the entire Opposition really! - were not happy with Secretary Rosier’s decisions in the first 24 hours after the event. You’ve expressed many times that you think the Ministry botched the whole thing up - that they failed to prevent the attack from happening, and then they failed to respond adequately in the aftermath. Now, Secretary Rosier rode the wave into office with the backing of your campaign, but now what she’s said and done versus what you’ve said and done - they don’t always match. Do you think that perhaps she’s just too young to be taken seriously in office? That maybe this just isn’t a job for a girl?”

The other man’s words snapped his attention back immediately and he cleared his throat, eyes serious. “I’d like to make one thing certain - the notion that she is simply too young, or that she’s a girl, is not the root of my disagreement with Secretary Rosier.” Rodolphus enunciated every last word to ensure that his meaning was unmistakable. His distaste for the man sitting opposite of him only grew at such a sexist remark, and he found himself wishing that he had opted to speak with Rita Skeeter instead. A movement in the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head, and when he met Helena’s eyes, he almost faltered in his next words. “Helena Rosier is an extremely capable young woman. The inadequacy in the response to this crisis falls ultimately to the bureaucrats in power, in the deep recesses of the Ministry. Unfortunately, it means that Secretary Rosier now answers to them, and it is regrettable that she has allowed herself to become their microphone, for lack of a better term. She has been influenced and led to make the wrong decisions, but I know that under proper leadership, we can steer the Ministry back on track, and Secretary Rosier’s term will truly be one for the history books.” The interview finished quickly after his final comment, for which he was thankful.

He had kept his eyes trained on Helena the entire time he spoke his last words, and watching how her posture grew rigid, he felt his heart turn to lead inside his chest. Rodolphus murmured his apologies for his sudden departure, and he threw open the door to follow her rapidly retreating footsteps. “Helena, wait!” He swore, advancing down the hall with strides as long as his legs could carry him. “Helena!” At the sight of that unmistakable mess of curls at the end of the hallway, he all but ran to reach her. Before she could turn the corner, he tried to reach for her wrist, but her movement caused him to miss his mark as he grasped her upper arm instead. He tried to keep his grasp gentle - always gentle with her, always so careful. “Helena, please I need you to - " - his voice died in his throat at the look in her eyes.

Watch it Break, Watch it Burn || Rod & Helena

@rodolphuslcstrange

Being at the prophet wasn’t her favorite place to be, but there were times it was necessary. She’d been contacted about an interview, and Helena had promised herself that if she won that she’d make time to be accessible to the people. By the end of it she was exhausted, but feeling a bit lighter than before. She’d been asked reasonable questions; ones that allowed her to both explain her actions and give reassurance where it was necessary. All in all, she felt it’d gone well, and she was thankful that all she had left to do was finish up a few things at the Ministry before heading home.

However, Helena stopped dead as she heard the familiar voice. Hearing him wasn’t what made her pause though, it was the words that fell out of his mouth. Her chest tightened, and Helena hated how much his words affected her. Knowing that he was disappointed with her was one thing, but listening to him use her as a means for his campaign, tearing her actions apart to people that would post them to the public, caused her heart to contract with a pain she didn’t think she’d experience.

For a brief moment, her eyes caught his as he spoke, and she hated herself for showing even the smallest sign of weakness. Helena had her head held high, chin jutted out just a tad, and her shoulder’s ram rod straight, but it was her eyes that gave her away. The youngest Rosier had never been great about hiding her emotions, and the hurt that flashed through them was visible to anyone that knew what to look for. Helena fought the frown that threatened to overtake her lips and pulled them into a straight line, before shaking her head slightly and turning her heel to leave. Of all the hurt people had caused her over the years, this betrayal was the hardest.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

underneathsilk:

It’s a curious thing, to realise the man you have fallen in love with, has fallen in love with someone else. When Rodolphus first cancelled their regular Friday lunch dates, Josephine thought little of it. But when it happened again, she knew something wasn’t quite right. Josephine could see that she didn’t hold his attention like she used to. It didn’t take long for word to travel back to her, that Rodolphus was spending time with another woman. And when she saw him in passing with Emmeline, she saw the way he looked at the other woman. She recognised it because he’d almost looked at her like that before. She knew what was coming, and when Rodolphus knocked on her door she smiled playfully as she turned to look at him.“Mr Lestrange. What a pleasant surprise” she greeted “I might have missed you. I might not have. It has been some time.”

He realized with a start that he missed her smile. He missed how it could light up any room and set his nerves at ease, if only for a moment. Growing up, he would look to Amycus and Lucius to share a dark joke at the expense of another. He would look to Severus for guidance, just as the other man looked to him for it. Most importantly, he would look to his brother for comfort, for peace in the eye of the storm. But for humor and lightness, he would turn to Josephine. He strode into her office with sure steps. "Don't play coy with me, Josie," he huffed a laugh, all but tumbling into the leather-bound chair across her desk. Rodolphus flashed her a winning smile. "I know you've missed me as much as I've missed you. Who else is around to drive you insane these days?" It was a selfless lie, if he cared to admit it - he had hardly thought of her at all, his mind clouded by another woman's dark brown eyes. But if the lie could make Josephine feel better in this moment, then he owed her that much, at least. "Now - ready for lunch? You know I won't take no for an answer."

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

evnrcsicr:

Evan spared the older boy a smile, straightening his shoulders at the look of pride in Rodolphus’s eyes. Not used to such positive emotions directed his way as the only look his parents ever gave him were frowns and rolling their eyes, usually followed by the stinging sensation of a slap in the face. So Evan soaks up Rodolphus’s positive regard, like gasping for water in a desert. He spared the other boy a solemn smile, serious in its nature as the conversation demanded it, “You promise?” His voice was small as he spoke, tilting his head curiously as he stared up at him, “To help me look after my sister if I can’t be there?”

Evan stiffened when the older man began his tirade, gripping his desk tightly, trying not to lose his cool in the face of an enraged and spiteful Rodolphus. But how dare he? How dare he stand there and place the blame for the tension of the campaign at his feet, when Rodolphus has been the one who turned his back on the Rosiers. Whose reputation proved more important than the childhood promises solemnly sworn. Rodolphus may have the respect of the public and the pureblood community, but Evan found this version to be nothing more than a cowardly little sheep. Clenching his jaw he locked ups with the older man, anger darkening the hues, “I owe you an explaination? Is that really how you want to structure your rant, Lestrange?” Purposefully using his last name–both of them knowing the significance of that play, “You lost the right to an explaination of my actions a long time ago.”

"Of course, Evan." And he meant it. Just the smile on Evan's features - rare enough in the children who ran in their social circles - was enough to fill Rodolphus's heart with something close to warmth. "I'll protect Helena with everything I have. But don't... don't talk about not being there for her too." The very idea brought a worried crease to his forehead. Perhaps it was a childish unwillingness to consider the reality of death, but the notion that Evan might not be there someday... he shook his head, as if trying to shake the thought away. "You and I are both going to be there to protect Helena. I'm going to make sure that nothing ever happens to you either, Evan." Rodolphus nudged the younger boy's shoulders with his elbow. "We're in this together, right?"

The clench of Evan's jaw and the tone he used as he spat his retort to Rodolphus gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. He had grown tired of Evan's icy treatment, and that tiredness had evolved to irritation, to outright anger on his part. That anger had finally bubbled over at last, and Rodolphus wanted that reflected in the other man. "Where are your manners, Rosier? Or have you forgotten who it is that you work for - whose face is it that this entire office plasters on every poster, every flyer and pamphlet?" Rodolphus took another step forward, closer to Evan's desk that still stood as a barrier between the two of them. "If you feel no sense of friendly obligation - even after how long we've known each other, even after everything we've been through - then you owe me an explanation as my subordinate." He shook his head and sneered. The answer should have been obvious to him all this time. "Is this about Helena? Is this about her and the stupid decisions she's made since taking office?"

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

catchlovc:

Rodolphus Lestrange was arguably one of the worst people she could have ran into right now, only tied with her brother. While Rabastan only made her filled with an overwhelming loss and pain to top her preexisting hurt from the werewolf attack, Rodolphus simply made her… angry. At least there was a heart still beating with Rabastan, after all, among the two brothers, he was far more softer. Rodolphus was cold and where Rabastan had a heart she was sure Rodolphus had something closer to a wrathful gap. Working in the Ministry was terrible enough, but working under Rodolphus had made her absolutely miserable. Any chance of having a future in politics was promptly ruined when she realized Rodolphus would always stay on top. Oh so she once thought. Times were speeding up and the tides were changing. Who knew what would happen to her- who knew what would happen to him.

“Mr. Lestrange,” she said, pewter in hand. Unlike breaking down in front of his brother, she had learned to emotionally remove herself wherever Rodolphus was involved. Her face was stoic. She wore an expression that was closer to “what do you want from me” instead of a smile. “That’s nice to hear. It’s good that I’m wanted in your presence for once, “ she remarked, nodding contemplatively. Every memory of her former job dictated her job. “Thank you for dedicated your time to the hospital. It certainly lifts the patients’ spirits to know that you care for them,” she said, obligatory, but a little more sincere than she anticipated, surprising even herself.  The Rodolphus she knew greatly differed from the one the public saw, a person much more welcoming and considerate. She wondered which one was the real him, or if the two Rodolphus’ were constantly fighting for power inside his soul. “I admit I’m surprised you’re looking for me, though. I’m just a doctor. Still, St. Mungo’s is in slightly better spirits now that we’ve had so much aid in our recovery.”

The stony face that greeted him was one he was not accustomed to. It would have been egotistical and vain to presume that his presence would be welcomed wherever he stepped, but he still hadn't expected such an expression from someone he had once known and worked with. He carefully schooled his features, reflecting nothing but a mask of perfect amiability and friendliness. "Ms. Catchlove, don't be absurd," he purred, cocking his head to the side. "It's always a pleasure to see you. I trust that you received the flowers I had sent?" He had made sure to send a gift of appreciation to the surviving staff members of St. Mungos, all under the name of the Opposition. Some tokens were department-wide, but the people he knew - people like Greta - he had sent a special arrangement of flowers as a personal touch. He gestured to the pewter in her hands. "May I? I'm sure you've been hard at work all day, and I'd be more than happy to lend a helping hand if you'd like to take a break."

He nodded. "So many have given their lives from this tragedy. It's the least I can do to try to entertain the ones still clinging to life." Rodolphus knew that they had parted on less than amicable terms, but in front of the curious eyes of passing doctors and nurses and family members, he was adamant in making no mention of that. He stood straighter then, though he eyed her with nervousness, unsure what to make of her. There was a reason he had sent an arrangement of flowers and had not elected to visit her personally before. "And never just a doctor. Every hand is needed and appreciated. I'm glad to hear that the recovery fund has worked. How are you faring?"

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

please don’t go // rodolphus x josephine

we suffer together steph

the night we met - lord huron // gravity - sara bareilles // a drop in the ocean - ron pope // almost lover - a fine frenzy // in my veins - andrew belle // broken - lifehouse // holding on & letting go - ross copperman // salvation - gabrielle aplin // wait - m83 // in this shirt - the irrepressibles // never let me go - florence + the machine // stone cold - demi lovato

@rodolphuslcstrange

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

rabastahn:

He was drowning, lungs screaming for air as he stood so still he could have been glued down. But movement became necessary and he could feel his legs shaking, a full body tremble beginning head to toe but not of fear, of anger. Betrayal was not a word he would have ever thought he’d associate with his brother. Perhaps their father would have sent him away but as memories of abuse and isolation assaulted him he knew that would have been better. Rodolphus was the one who had kept him prisoner in his own home, and for what? For his own selfish delusions, because Rabastan was not the perfect teapot spouting the right things? To cleanse him of supposed sins? But Rodolphus had not been there to save him from their father, he had not been there to keep Bas from feeling helpless and so incredibly lonely it ate away at his humanity. Perhaps his brother had gotten what he wanted from Bas, the perfect soldier, obedient and conforming. But Rabastan had lost everything and just as he was on the cusp of pure, delirious happiness it was snatched away, overshadowed by this extreme darkness, the rage, the hurt. When he approached Rabastan evaded his grasp. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.” his voice had taken on the shades and undertones their father had when he was at his most disappointed, this was the boy Rodolphus wanted, the one he’d cleansed, the one he groomed. “You helped our father, encouraged him, to mold me into a corruptible monster. You’ve gotten what you wanted brother.” he turned to leave, he could not stand the sight of the man he’d once so admired, the brother he had looked up to, the man he had been trying so desperately to save from ruin.

So close. Rabastan was so close, but Rodolphus could already feel the chasm between them widen beyond hope. Perhaps it was a fissure that had always been there, one that only widened the older they grew up and apart. How he had tried so hard to mend it, to force it closed, to build weak bridges to link them together. To pull Rabastan back, to keep him by his side always. Watching Rabastan flinch away, hearing the tone in his brother's voice - he wished he had been kicked, punched, stabbed, anything instead. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend, to plead - all I ever wanted was to keep you safe. But the words died on his tongue and he watched Rabastan's retreating figure. After all, there was nothing more to say. He heard the door slam shut, like the final nail on a coffin. His legs gave way beneath him, but he felt no pain as his knees slammed against the cold hard floor. He felt as if he were watching himself through someone else's eyes. A tall and proud dark-haired man sank to the ground, a grimace twisting his features as tears fell from his eyes. A man who walked like a god, now reduced to a pathetic, pitiful huddle against his own desk, staring at the chasm of his own making. A man brought to his knees through no one's fault but his own. A man who watched his last hope of redemption - the last person who believed there could be an ounce of goodness salvaged in his aching and corrupted bones - walk out of his life.

END.

[rodolphuslcstrange-blog]

daggersareagirlsbestfriend:

“Ladies and gentlemen, the leader of the revolution,” Kamila said shaking her head with a sigh as she raised her hand and slapped Rod lightly on his cheek. “Clean up, people are asking for you,” She said as she peeked between the door and wall. “Truly, do you want your campaign manager to kill you? Both of you are shameless,” She chided. “You and Severus, not Emmeline, you’re here paying more attention to your dick than your home and Severus is drooling over his child and Mary, do the women in this campaign and Evan have to do everything?” She said crossing her arms. “What would you have done if it was someone else? You look a mess… Narcissa isn’t even wearing that shade of lipstick… Honestly.”

He rolled his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. "Would you keep your voice down?" he hissed, feeling the cool palm of her hand against his cheek, rousing him from his lust-addled brain. He was grateful that it was only Kamila, and if there was anyone he could trust to be secretive of the relationship that he shared with Emmeline, it was her. "I'd like to see Severus try. He can hardly take his eyes off m - his son. What do they need me for? I thought the auction already started." Still, he adjusted his tie, though he kept his frame positioned to cover Emmeline's figure behind him. "Lipstick? Why does that matter?" He trailed a hand along the side of his face, and when his fingers came back red, his cheeks flushed as his hand reached for a handkerchief kept in his jacket pocket - the same jacket already on the ground. Rodolphus leaned down and dusted off the coat, only to realize that his format suit had no room for a handkerchief like his day-to-day ones. He coughed. "You wouldn't happen to have something, would you?"