A Cruel Joke // 1st of April 1978

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

Rodolphus scowled as he looked over the papers in his hands, a contract that was supposed to be delivered to his brother but had found its way into Rodolphus' hands instead. Rabastan had mentioned his intentions in passing, but it seemed as though the younger Lestrange was looking to make good on his threats. Mixed emotions accompanied the revelation. On the one hand, this was what they had been working towards for so long as they plotted against their father and deposed him, taking control of their lives as they had never before been able to do. Free from Reginauld's cruelty, the brothers were able to flourish, but now Rabastan seemed to be twisting the knife they had planted in their father's back and aiming it at Rodolphus. He felt betrayed, and against all logic he felt alone.

The house elf, Ader, who had brought him a drink upon the wizard's initial commands, had returned to refill the now emptied glass. Despite this being precisely what the elf was expected to do for his master, the interruption caused the more volatile of his emotions to overflow. Enraged, at what precisely it did not matter, Rodolphus stood from behind his mahogany desk, shouting obscenities the creature was not unfamiliar with, and threw the empty glass square at the elf's head. The creature was knocked to the ground, apologized profusely, and retreated from his master's sight. "Send him to me!" he bellowed as the elf scurried from the room, no need to clarify to whom he was referring. He could infer the correct answer and retrieve Rabastan post haste, or else he would feel the wrath of Rodolphus Lestrange which was never an appealing option.

Rodolphus ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the dark curtain from his face and giving the man something more purposeful to do with his hands that continue to destroy his office. It wasn't enough. Rodolphus snarled to himself and turned, heading toward the bar cart where the elf had uncorked the vintage Scotch that had triggered his immediate punishment, and pulled a second glass toward him. Drink would not sate this cocktail of emotions pitted in his gut, but it certainly could not hurt. He wanted to celebrate his brother's independence but at the same time he wanted to forbid it. Rabastan's presence would solve this, surely, and if it did not it might just affix this sense of betrayal permanently.

Tagged: Rabastan Lestrange

[Rabastan Lestrange]

"Send him to me!"

A stream of obscenities rushed around the younger Lestrange's mind as his brother's voice tore through the manse. In but a moment, Ader appeared at his door with a crack, trembling head-to-toe and eerily more wide-eyed than usual, as it wasted no time in fetching him. The relative calm of the day was shattered, and Rabastan feared he knew what had set off Rodolphus. His brother, explosive tempered and short fused, wouldn't raise his voice like that - demanding him - for some trifling thing. He wasn't particularly fond of change, especially not when it came from someone in their inner circle. And Rabastan had been working on a change for quite some time, one that required just a few more signatures from him after his solicitor approved one final contract...

"Don't you dare touch me - I'm going, f*ck - I'm going."

Rabastan shook the elf away and breathed hard, running anxious hands through his long hair once more to smooth it from his initial panic, while his heart continued to race as if he was pinned down by some sharp-taloned beast of the forest. He began towards his brother's office from his suite, forcing his breaths to steady in hopes his mind would too. For he needed his wits about him here, as Rodolphus - Rodolphus was his ally, his greatest ally, and yet that roar was Reginauld's. Had he ever made his brother make that sound? Had Rabastan somehow not made himself clear in these last months? In all his talk of finally doing something for himself, nearly two full years after they'd forced their father to rot the ground, had Rodolphus not understood how serious he was about moving out? And could he not find it in himself to be pleased for him that he was able to move forward? For if he'd upset his brother by something else he'd done, Rabastan was fully in the dark as to what it could be. But he was not a child, he had hardly been allowed to be a child during his younger years anyway - he was more than equipped to make such decisions for himself, Rodolphus would have to be reasonable, allow him to use the assets he'd earned as he pleased -

The young man stopped short as he rounded the final corner to find himself nose-to-nose with Bellatrix, his sister-in-law looking far more smug than she had any right to as she laid in wait, skulking.

"Would you prefer a cremation or a casket for your funeral?"

"Send me down the Thames in a blaze of glory," Rabastan shot back, feeling that the others should be thanking him rather than treating him thus. Although with his luck, his nearest and dearest would lock him up here or burn him alive like a false witch on trial as they "followed through" with his request. He stepped around her and continued into the office without again breaking stride, glass crunching under the heels of his shoes before he came to a stop. Chin raised as he looked up to meet his brother's eye, he spoke. "You summoned me, sir?"

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

His brother's appearance was announced not by the harsh way he pronounced 'sir' when addressing him, nor by the crunch of glass under foot, but instead by the taunting voice of Bellatrix that wafted down the corridor. Rodolphus took a large mouthful of liquor as he glared at the faint reflection of himself in the window that overlooked the back of their estate. Minute lines had appeared around his eyes that he had not before noticed and his deep scowl held an eerily reminiscent look to that of their childhood, though it was not his eyes who glared back at him now.

Everything they had done together seemed a distant memory compared to the betrayal he felt still burning inside of him. Rabastan had been his closest ally, perhaps with the exception of Bellatrix, and no matter the pride he wanted to feel for this next adventure his brother would be embarking upon, that feeling was smothered by something much more primal. The footsteps grew nearer and Rodolphus turned, snarl present on his lips as his brother entered the office. He held an arrogant air about him which only infuriated Rodolphus more. Had the boy no worry of what was to happen next? No care for what he was leaving behind? For whom he was leaving behind?

"Explain yourself," he growled, drawing his wand and aiming it momentarily in his brother's direction as he stepped forward before turning it on the contract that laid on his desk. The papers lifted into the air and hung suspended just out of Rabastan's reach. The edges still bore the crumpled marks of Rodolphus' fists but it was otherwise as the solicitor had sent it. Rodolphus had read over the thing with care, re-reading certain clauses to make sense of the matter. It had become clear early on that this was not the first of this sort of contract for the younger Lestrange, as the document referenced additional forms and dates that had already passed. This treachery seemed to be coming to a close and yet Rodolphus had not been given more than a cursory aside on the matter.

Tagged: Rabastan Lestrange

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Hands clasped behind his back, Rabastan took care not to flinch as his brother's wand snapped in his direction, fighting to give off a sense of composure even as, really, he didn't quite know why he bothered any more. To be sure, their father had made certain that at least one son would speak when spoken to and only then - but that was then, and this was now, and would it not just be easier to give it up and let go? Blast apart priceless artifacts and crystal to emphasize a point just because he could? Shout and scream until he was hoarse, see if that made a greater impact than his measured words ever did? If Rodolphus could do it, and command respect - and rein himself in while out in public - then why couldn't he? That had long been the standard that Rab cared about more anyway, hadn't it?

Curiosity getting the better of him, his eyes flitted across the pages hanging in the air, and the young man leaned forward with impatience to confirm that this was the contract he'd been waiting for. A contract now showing signs of wear, one that his brother could incinerate on whim. Despite his best efforts, Rabastan grinned briefly, for from what he could quickly glean - everything seemed to be in order to make the nearby house he wanted his. He settled back on his heels, dry throat clearing, and looked to his brother. When riled up like this, the man was like a beast trapped in a cage five times too small, regardless of whatever space he was occupying. And Rabastan couldn't yet make sense of why he was so...upset. The plan had never been for Rab to stay here forever, that had never been what he wanted. Rodolphus and Bellatrix were free to reclaim the manor in whatever ways they saw fit, and he would now lay claim to his own property, begin something new for himself. And while he was doing it for himself, had it been so far-fetched to think that his brother might be proud of him for stepping up? So it seems.

"Explain myself," he reiterated, clipped, eyebrow cocked. He could not contain all feeling, after all - and frustration at being treated like this, his papers manhandled, the signing delayed, moved him forward. "And I won't be wasting my breath this time, as I evidently have been, whenever I've brought this up before? Help me to understand," Rab spoke as he stepped towards Rodolphus, gesturing to his brother and his...overall manner. "Did you not believe I'd actually do it?"

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

Rodolphus watched the measured expression of his only brother, the hint of a smile playing on his lips as his eyes scanned the forms hanging in front of him. An audible snarl could be heard from the elder Lestrange in response, but he otherwise said nothing. Smiling. The prick was smiling as his brother visibly fell apart in front of him. Not only had Rabastan seen to it that he execute this venture in secrecy, but now he was flaunting his success in Rodolphus' face. What cruelty had Rodolphus imposed on his brother to receive this vengeance in return? He had done nothing but look out for lad, guarded him against any misfortune he could and supported him through what he could not prevent. And the thanks that was delivered to him? Would Rabastan have even said anything if Rodolphus had not intercepted the contract beforehand? Would the younger man have sneaked out in the dead of night the moment his new house was made available to him, without even saying goodbye?

"What was there to believe?" he growled back, snapping his wand upward sharply and allowing the contract to fall to the floor. "Musings and day dreams were all that was mentioned in my presence. And yet now, apparently, you've gone behind my back and agreed to a purchase without so much as consulting me?" Were they not a team? Was there no love lost between them at this deceit? Perhaps Rodolphus had assumed too much of his brother. Perhaps Rabastan did not look at their relationship, all the troubles and trials they had fought together, in the same light as Rodolphus had. 


Tagged: Rabastan Lestrange

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Rabastan's confusion deepened, even as the reasons for his brother's reaction started to become more clear. He'd expected some kind of reaction, to be fair - but nothing to this personal level. Rodolphus read this as a betrayal, a dangerous thing indeed, and he would have...wanted to be consulted on this project? Just how involved would he have become, had Rab given him the opportunity? Too involved, he could answer for himself, which was perhaps an underlying reason for Rabastan keeping relatively mum about the endeavor. And for himself, in wanting to complete this task on his own and present his brother with a product when all was said and done...Don't play like you're any less controlling than he is.

Was he reading this properly? That his brother was reacting this way because he was actually hurt by Rab not inviting him in?

Preposterous. 

    Or is it?

He mutely gathered the papers as they fell, aligning them and setting them aside, as he turned the foreign thought over. The indestructible force that was Rodolphus Lestrange, hurt, because he felt excluded by his little brother. Rabastan turned to consider him curiously, the man seething and snarling, and wondered if that could really be it. He would never have thought that his brother cared so much for what he did. He knew Rodolphus felt strongly for him - he'd always taken his duty as protector with the utmost severity, but had duty transformed into something else entirely? It was an uncomfortable thought to sit with, especially as they had banished the parent who had sometimes, however rarely, shown them true affection. They weren't - they weren't built for this, they didn't have the capacity for it - they were meant to keep the world at a distance, and was this why Rodolphus could only yell at him now? You can take the yelling. Could you take him saying something...emotionally...vulnerable?

"I'm not one for idle talk," Rab said simply, indignant that what he had shared before had not been taken seriously. But he had asked to understand his brother's upset, and as difficult as it was, he had meant it and was trying to. Could Rodolphus do the same for him? "This was mine. Everything that I have, it's because you or Father opened the door. I'm not ungrateful for that, but I wanted to accomplish something myself, Rodolphus. It wasn't about cutting you out, it was about me seeing this through on my own, to show myself that I could handle it." And to show you. He would never be without the advantage of their name, to be certain, but had his family been present for the showings, the negotiations - it was too easy to imagine the others folding before them, as always happened. He would never have been considered for a Mark at the young age that he had been, had Rodolphus not been a model recruit. Even his silly post at the Portkey Office began as a called-in favor from their father to the head of the department. Sure, since gaining his positions, he had had to work to keep earning them - but he never could forget how he started, and wonder if he could have gotten where he was on his own merit alone. He eyed Rodolphus and kept prodding, still curious about his working theory and with hardly a clue of what more to do if it was right. "I thought you'd enjoy getting the house to yourself, me out of your hair."

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

"That you would compare what I have sacrificed for you to that which our father forced upon your head..." Rodolphus' head shook, disgusted, dark hair falling over his eyes. The little good which Reginauld Lestrange had accomplished in his shortened life was in keeping most of the Lestrange fortune intact, and betrothing Rodolphus to Bellatrix to win favor with the Blacks. Rodolphus could think of nothing in Rabastan's life that their father could claim as his doing which the younger Lestrange would be better off for. A piss poor excuse for an arranged union with a muggle-sympathizing bint, a lifetime of physical abuse and mental trauma neither of the brothers were prepared to admit to or deal with, and a pathetic desk job that any muppet could accomplish. And Rabastan had the gall to compare Rodolphus to that monster.

"And how is it that you expect to furnish this transaction that you so secretly held near and dear? You wanted something all your own and yet the family gold is good enough for you, is it?" Rodolphus' grip on his near emptied glass tightened dangerously as he glared at his brother, seething. "Let us see how far your abilities take you without my support and our family fortune to buoy you, if you are so determined to do it on your own." It was a low blow, to be certain, but short of physical violence, the only leverage Rodolphus could find in the moment was Rabastan's means of paying off this mortgage he was about to enter into. The integrity of the glass in his hand began to waver and Rodolphus moved to the bar cart to distract himself from the urge to lash out at his brother more savagely than just with words, setting the cracked glass down before he broke it fully.

[Rabastan Lestrange]

With how his brother reacted, Rabastan began to worry in earnest that Rodolphus may never approve of this choice, and of what that would mean. His intent had never been to hurt him, not in the least, or to belittle what had been done on his behalf by the man. It felt like they were beyond the point of rational discussion, of being able to understand each other, and he should have shut the conversation down. Risked leaving for the night and returning in the morning when cooler heads could have perhaps prevailed. But what had been simmering within him - as he attempted to explain himself with reason - began to boil. For Rodolphus saw fit to threaten his way out. And if he wanted to make good on it? He could. After all, the decision on how to share the family wealth was nothing more than a gentleman's agreement between them after the demise of their parents. As the eldest Lestrange, everything was still in Rodolphus's name. Something Rab hadn't had cause to worry about, until now.

His meager salary from the Ministry couldn't hope to ever make up for the loss of access to their fortune, and Rod knew that full well. If he left and was cut off, he would have to swallow his pride and make due. He would have no choice. A room to rent at the Wyvern, perhaps, until he found a cheap apartment, trying to convince himself that the important thing was gaining his independence while he ignored the crippling losses - of his brother? Of his way of life? And would Euphadora still want him if he had nothing to offer but himself? And what would he do with his falcons? The Carrows could point him in the right direction, if they were still on speaking terms...

"I am using what is rightfully mine," Rab seethed as his brother refilled his drink, putting contingency plans on pause as he started on a riskier path that would make them needed all the more. "You don't want to be compared to Father," he went on, voice rising, "yet you would do this? Try to force me to stay here with that threat?"

[Rodolphus Lestrange]

Force him to stay? Was this life they had only so recently achieved so vial that Rabastan felt a prisoner here? Had he and Bellatrix not done everything within their means to provide Rabastan with privileges the boys had never before been afforded? To have the freedom Rabastan had at his age, Rodolphus might have made many different choices in his life, but instead Rabastan threw this liberty in Rodolphus' face. "Ungrateful little prick!" he shouted, swiftly closing the space between he and his brother until his chest knocked up against the smaller framed man. He stared down at his brother, eyes darkening with rage that had rarely before been directed at either of the two people Rodolphus considered his real family. They'd had spats before, he and Bellatrix, and he and Rabastan, but never before had Rodolphus felt this level of hostile emotion directed at one of them. In arguing his point, demanding his desired outcome, Rodolphus was known to destroy a room, harm onlookers, and once even burn down a building whilst standing among the flames but never had he physically put his hands on his brother. Would this be the day that precedent changed? Would he pummel his brother into the ground when some part of him wanted to hug him and wish him well?

"Perhaps father had been right not to allow you a say in your life," he snarled through clenched teeth, fighting back volatile emotions that urged him to slam his fist into his brother's face. Instead, Rodolphus let out a monstrous growl that shook the window panes, pulling back his arm and forcing his fist into the wall behind Rabastan's head. The plaster crumbled and sprinkled onto the ground as Rodolphus pulled his hand from the large hole he had created.

"Go! f*cking go then!" He seethed, stepping aside, giving his brother a clear path and ignoring the bits of plaster that mingled with the specks of blood beginning to seep from his knuckles. Rabastan had what he wanted, an escape from this life Rodolphus had mistakenly assumed was a good one. They were no longer one, fighting together against a world of evils aimed at suppressing them. Their allegiance was the same but were their loyalties still aligned? Would Rodolphus one day meet the same end as their father, at the hands of his own brother if he did not support this impulsive venture?

[Rabastan Lestrange]

He knew he'd regret the words as soon as they left him, but there was no taking them back, even as he was now forcibly tight-lipped. The change in his brother was immediate - he filled the room, absorbing its air and its light, as pure fury became him. Rabastan stepped back warily as Rodolphus knocked into him, every muscle tensed to spring as he took his wand in hand, the wall far too close behind him for comfort, his brother barring his way out, and he all but shook with an anger of his own as Rodolphus stared him down. Whatever happened next, he would not stay. He would not stay one more night in this manse of haunted halls, he would not be intimidated, he would not be threatened, he would not be afraid, he would not beg. They had fooled themselves into thinking they could make this cursed place a home, and he was done. The wants to understand his brother and to make the man understand him, they were abruptly overshadowed with the visceral need to leave.

Perhaps this could have been avoided, had he handled this differently. Carefully. Or perhaps this was how news of his impending - now, immediate - departure would always have gone. However differently they appeared on the outside, internally they were never still, they were made of the stuff of storms - always moving, always observing, always thinking, always brewing; churning, crashing waves and violent swells and booms of thunder and lightning strikes and blazing fires - careening and conflicting when let out of containment. He struggled to contain himself now, as his lapse had brought this on, as Rodolphus loomed, shouting, insulting, that growl - a fist, Rabastan's instinctive flinch away as it raised -

A crack into the wall at his head, Rodolphus's voice ringing in his ears, blood dripping to the floor. A way out.

As soon as the way was clear, Rabastan was on the move without a look back, grabbing the papers in a clenched fist as he swept from the room. He yelled for the elf and it appeared at his heels, tripping over itself to keep up as he made for his rooms. To rapidly fill a pack with whatever clothes he saw first, the rolled up papers and the belt of blades off the wall and the books from his nightstand, the bag of coins off his desk and a family ring onto his finger. The edges of the engraving burned against his skin, or so it felt, corvus oculum corvi non eruit - were they doomed to become this? First their father, and now the brothers? Was that why the family felt the need so long ago to take the words, not as a promise but as a warning against what was in their blood? Ader let out a squeal and hopped from foot to foot, and Rabastan stomped at the sparks that flew from his wand to bounce about the floor at their feet, joining the disjointed pattern of singe marks from earlier lapses. Breathing as rapidly through his nose as he'd been when up against the wall, he shouldered the pack. He would send for his birds and his things. The risks of splinching were far less threatening than the risk of remaining, despite the pains it took to shut enough out of this moment to focus - but within minutes of returning to his room, he was reappearing at the door to the Wyvern, pack heavy and head heavier still, as the weight of this night's consequences fell onto him.

Alone.

Wasn't that what he wanted?