There was something hinted at the edges of his smile–unnamed, this elusive emotion dancing recklessly between melancholy and righteousness. For he was a beacon of justice and nobility. Even as this Ministry meant to throw him into prison, Rodolphus knew himself. He knew the darkness and the light within; he felt the power. His life was one to be sacrificed in perpetuity to their most noble purist cause.
« I know. » The slightest of nods acknowledged Narcissa’s assertion. She was not wrong. To come here had the potential to complicate matters. But he had come with a purpose. The man meant to tell his almost sister his intention for the trial. He would step before the blade and be the shield this family needed. Bellatrix had failed to be any sort of wife to him. He had no son to carry on the Lestrange line, but Narcissa was the better wife–the better woman. Envy twisted in the darkest recesses of his heart.
There was nothing to be gained from this coveting. Perhaps Bella would be sentenced to the kiss and someday he could take a better wife. This that he meant to do would be karma in his favor. Perhaps the Fates would notice and smile upon him.
Rodolphus found comfort in the fact that even now Narcissa kept with polite conversation, minding manners and decorum. « There are limitations to where I may go. » The Lestrange was confined to the United Kingdom and he had only a dozen hours of freedom left now. He did not expound upon the charm that had been cast over him. While the magic was not unbreakable, it was complex, too much so to be undone in the time he had before he was due before the Wizengamot. Not that he had any intention of attempting escape… Rodolphus would go before the court and he would acknowledge the acts they proclaimed as crimes. There was more that he would take on, as well–and it was on Narcissa to corroborate details of his story.
Again the man nodded, this time the action served as a response to the Lady Malfoy’s question rather than an assertion. « There is. » That complicate half smile turned up the corner of his lips again, contradicting the disconsolate shadows in his azure eyes. « I will not make a defense. I will acknowledge willful and deliberate participation in that which I am accused of. Further, I mean to include your husband’s name on the list of those I held under the influence of the Imperius. I shall claim my wife’s relation to you gave me access to him with the regularity that was necessary to maintain the curse. » Rodolphus spoke these words softly, laying them out as a gift to the woman. Would she see them as such? Could she understand why he would choose to do such a thing? Did she perceive the hope he placed in her family–in her son?
It would be an easy lie to weave into the tapestry of truth he meant to lay before the court. His work in the Thought chambers of the Department of Mysteries were known by some of the members. His proficiency with the Imperius had even been experienced by certain members. His talent was established. He’d held many key officials under his will during the war. Victory should have been theirs. Perhaps it would have been if they had not been led by a halfblood rather than a proper purist patrician. Power and charm, Voldemort had plenty; perspicacity, though, the man had lacked. Far too late now, though, to commiserate such a mistake- The die had long been cast.
He knew. That simple answer might not have meant much for most ( and, definitely, was rather complex in itself, an acknowledgement but not an agreement. Not really ) but it was just enough for Narcissa’s grip on Draco to genuinely soften, the toddler fussing around to try to be let out on the floor, where toys were waiting for him. Bellatrix might have been Narcissa’s sister ( and Narcissa was nothing if not loyal and caring to her family ), but she had felt miles away from the oldest’s machinations and beliefs and drive that it was easy to forget Bellatrix’s influence did not truly extend past her own mind. This would be her downfall at the trial, a bitter fall from grace that the blonde could not stand to think about ( this was her sister ) but could hardly oppose ( the Malfoys had her loyalty now ). Rodolphus was different — His presence imposing but logical, not as fanatically driven as her sister’s. If for years the witch had let her opinion of him be clouded by Bella’s own partial truths and lies, this was long gone now.
Perhaps, she sometimes thought, Rodolphus would had deserved better than her sister for a wife — A lady, not a soldier. Though Bellatrix might think she was both, common decorum and the proper manners Druella had taught her daughters both suggested otherwise. Her wedding to the dark-haired man was therefore doomed from the start — Her, a soldier who refused to need anyone and him, who Narcissa felt needed to be needed more than he might admit. Not that the blonde would ever allow herself to think these thoughts aloud. She knew all too well the damages they could do, and this would hardly turn an unfair situation into a fair one. ( Except, of course, that the unfairness had gone too far, and they would both be sentenced to Azkaban, and Narcissa could not and would not do anything against this either. )
This is why it had not come entirely as a shock, that they had gotten arrested and Rodolphus had seemingly not fought his fate. The unfairness of it all was undeniable.
Softly, the blonde set her son down on the woollen rug which laid in contrast to the manor’s marble floors, trained blue eyes making sure whatever had caught his attention was not something which could potentially harm him before turning her attention back to her brother-in-law. « Limitations ? » she repeated, trying to keep the tone conversational — As if they were talking about the weathers, instead of the conditions of Rodolphus’ limited freedom. « Do they genuinely believe these work ? »
His smile caught her off-guard, the contrast between his lips and gaze a prelude to news she could tell were important. Her expression froze at his next words. Could he tell her heart skipped a beat in relief at the prospect Lucius would get home safe ? And, more importantly, could he tell that despite her joy, she still considered this a wretched solution ?
She was aware, of course, that she could not save everyone. Narcissa had made peace with that a long time ago when she had chosen Lucius, and then again when she had given birth to Draco. They were her priority, even if this involved burning other bridges, but this did not mean the blonde wanted to see the rest of her family in Azkaban. She would have wanted them to save themselves — She would have wanted Rodolphus to save himself. Perhaps this had been naïve. Perhaps it was better this way — Her husband got out unscathed, her son was safe. Cold hand still reached for Rodolphus’ to squeeze it lightly, as if to be certain he was sure of what he was offering and to ascertain for herself what kinds of strings this might entail. Rodolphus was giving her her life on a silver platter. He must have known this — And perhaps even wanted something in return. « You would do that ? »
« Would it be terribly rude of me to ask why ? » Her tone was less conversational than before, voice softly falling to an almost whisper which sometimes got caught in her throat as she considered the implications of it all, willing her heart and her brain to work together. « Thank you. I fail to see how we could ever repay you such a gesture but be assured you would at the very least have my gratitude. » This would not mean much in front of the Dementors, but it was still a token — A possibility that the Lestranges would have somewhere to go, should they ever find their way out of this place. « Though, I must mention — They might ask you then why you cursed my husband and not me. It might be wise to have an answer for that as well. » It would be wiser for Rodolphus to save himself, but she felt they both knew that already.
