Fic: Cruelty in Three Acts
Title: Cruelty in Three Acts
Author: dexstarr
Word Count: 745
Rating: R
Challenge: deatheaterdrabs Challenge #8: Writer's Choice. Quote: It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts. ---Carl Jung
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange
Warnings: Animal cruelty, torture, darkfic
Author's Note: Meh. I finished this at almost the last minute, and there are some things I would do differently after thinking about it for a few days.
Disclaimer: HP and all assorted belong to JKR, and are not mine.
Summary: Brother inspiring brother.
***
Rodolphus was idly plucking feathers from his owl’s wing when he saw his little brother staring at him.
“Why are you hurting Grindel?”
Rodolphus pulled out another long grey feather before he said, “I’m angry with Grindel; he didn’t bring a letter I’ve been waiting on. So I’m punishing him.”
Rabastan chewed his chubby lower lip, considering his brother’s words. “Oh. Why?”
Sighing inwardly at his younger brother’s slowness, Rodolphus explained. “Because it makes me feel better, Rab. I like hurting him.” He tightened his fist around Grindel’s neck, and the owl squawked in pain.
“Oh!” This time, comprehension lit in Rabastan’s dull eyes. “I like hurting mother’s cats when she yells at me.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Rab. Now, are you ready to go riding?” Their father had been after Rodolphus to spend more time with his younger brother. Previously he hadn’t been too keen on the idea, but now he didn’t mind quite so much.
“Yes!”
The two brothers left the room, but not before Rodolphus tossed Grindel out the window. He was pleased when Rabastan laughed with him as they watched the owl try to right itself as it plummeted toward the ground, wings sore and featherless.
The next time Rodolphus came home on break, Rabastan had a pillow stuffed with owl feathers.
*** *** ***
“Why couldn’t I have had a witch?” Rabastan asked sullenly.
“Because we don’t hurt witches - well, we don’t hurt pure-blood witches, anyway.” Rodolphus turned his wand on the girl they’d picked up minutes earlier in Muggle London. “Now watch, and learn, brother. Crucio!”
The pain from the torture curse gradually woke the blonde from her drunken stupor. When she was fully conscious, Rodolphus let up the spell, giving her a temporary reprieve. Rabastan looked questioningly at him and he explained, “You cause more pain when you repeat the spell. You try it.”
Rabastan obediently raised his wand and said the incantation, but his attempt only caused the blonde to let out a few ear-piercing shrieks.
“You’ve got to mean it, Rab.” Rodolphus said, frustrated with his brother’s weak effort.
“I don’t care.”
Rodolphus’s anger, which had been simmering while his brother sulked, exploded, and he shouted, “You better start fucking caring!” Fear chased the rage in his belly - he was due to present Rabastan to the Dark Lord in a matter of months, as soon as the boy turned seventeen. And Rab was nowhere near ready to take the Dark Mark, let alone kneel in the man’s presence.
“Do you remember Grindel, Rab? Do you remember how you liked hurting mother’s cats?” Rodolphus forced himself to be calm. “This is just like that. You’ll like hurting her, I promise.”
Rabastan nodded, chewing his lip like he did when he was younger. He stared at the girl on the floor, imagining her covered in feathers or fur - she’s just another animal, he told himself. “Crucio!”
Rodolphus rewarded him with a pat on the back when the blonde cried longer than she had before, thrashing about on the floor. “Good job, brother. You just needed some practice.”
The next time Rodolphus saw his brother, Rabastan showed him the trophies he’d collected from his ‘practice victims’ - he kept their hair, just like he’d kept the owl feathers.
*** *** ***
“Please! We don’t know anything!” Frank Longbottom stood protectively in front of his wife, trying to guard her from the leer of the four Death Eaters in his house.
“Who said we wanted to ask you anything?” Rodolphus drawled.
“Your ‘Lord.’ He’s gone. Surely -”
Bellatrix sauntered slowly toward the two Aurors. “Oh I don’t think you two would know anything, especially about the Dark Lord. Maybe we’re just here to…play.”
Her laughter filled the room, and the three men joined in. The scent of fear was in the air and all the Death Eaters were high on it.
Frank turned his wand on Rodolphus and Rabastan when they went for his wife, but Barty disarmed the Auror before he could cast any spells. “Can’t have you stopping the fun,” Barty said, and Bellatrix nodded approvingly.
“Time to play boys,” she purred, tapping her wand against her palm. “Who can make theirs scream the loudest?”
Rodolphus smiles as he watches his brother and wife work their magic on Frankie; he has never heard sweeter screams. Rabastan has never been in finer form, and for once, he is the one inspiring Rodolphus to greater depths of depravity and wickedness.
***
Author: dexstarr
Word Count: 745
Rating: R
Challenge: deatheaterdrabs Challenge #8: Writer's Choice. Quote: It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts. ---Carl Jung
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange
Warnings: Animal cruelty, torture, darkfic
Author's Note: Meh. I finished this at almost the last minute, and there are some things I would do differently after thinking about it for a few days.
Disclaimer: HP and all assorted belong to JKR, and are not mine.
Summary: Brother inspiring brother.
***
Rodolphus was idly plucking feathers from his owl’s wing when he saw his little brother staring at him.
“Why are you hurting Grindel?”
Rodolphus pulled out another long grey feather before he said, “I’m angry with Grindel; he didn’t bring a letter I’ve been waiting on. So I’m punishing him.”
Rabastan chewed his chubby lower lip, considering his brother’s words. “Oh. Why?”
Sighing inwardly at his younger brother’s slowness, Rodolphus explained. “Because it makes me feel better, Rab. I like hurting him.” He tightened his fist around Grindel’s neck, and the owl squawked in pain.
“Oh!” This time, comprehension lit in Rabastan’s dull eyes. “I like hurting mother’s cats when she yells at me.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Rab. Now, are you ready to go riding?” Their father had been after Rodolphus to spend more time with his younger brother. Previously he hadn’t been too keen on the idea, but now he didn’t mind quite so much.
“Yes!”
The two brothers left the room, but not before Rodolphus tossed Grindel out the window. He was pleased when Rabastan laughed with him as they watched the owl try to right itself as it plummeted toward the ground, wings sore and featherless.
The next time Rodolphus came home on break, Rabastan had a pillow stuffed with owl feathers.
*** *** ***
“Why couldn’t I have had a witch?” Rabastan asked sullenly.
“Because we don’t hurt witches - well, we don’t hurt pure-blood witches, anyway.” Rodolphus turned his wand on the girl they’d picked up minutes earlier in Muggle London. “Now watch, and learn, brother. Crucio!”
The pain from the torture curse gradually woke the blonde from her drunken stupor. When she was fully conscious, Rodolphus let up the spell, giving her a temporary reprieve. Rabastan looked questioningly at him and he explained, “You cause more pain when you repeat the spell. You try it.”
Rabastan obediently raised his wand and said the incantation, but his attempt only caused the blonde to let out a few ear-piercing shrieks.
“You’ve got to mean it, Rab.” Rodolphus said, frustrated with his brother’s weak effort.
“I don’t care.”
Rodolphus’s anger, which had been simmering while his brother sulked, exploded, and he shouted, “You better start fucking caring!” Fear chased the rage in his belly - he was due to present Rabastan to the Dark Lord in a matter of months, as soon as the boy turned seventeen. And Rab was nowhere near ready to take the Dark Mark, let alone kneel in the man’s presence.
“Do you remember Grindel, Rab? Do you remember how you liked hurting mother’s cats?” Rodolphus forced himself to be calm. “This is just like that. You’ll like hurting her, I promise.”
Rabastan nodded, chewing his lip like he did when he was younger. He stared at the girl on the floor, imagining her covered in feathers or fur - she’s just another animal, he told himself. “Crucio!”
Rodolphus rewarded him with a pat on the back when the blonde cried longer than she had before, thrashing about on the floor. “Good job, brother. You just needed some practice.”
The next time Rodolphus saw his brother, Rabastan showed him the trophies he’d collected from his ‘practice victims’ - he kept their hair, just like he’d kept the owl feathers.
*** *** ***
“Please! We don’t know anything!” Frank Longbottom stood protectively in front of his wife, trying to guard her from the leer of the four Death Eaters in his house.
“Who said we wanted to ask you anything?” Rodolphus drawled.
“Your ‘Lord.’ He’s gone. Surely -”
Bellatrix sauntered slowly toward the two Aurors. “Oh I don’t think you two would know anything, especially about the Dark Lord. Maybe we’re just here to…play.”
Her laughter filled the room, and the three men joined in. The scent of fear was in the air and all the Death Eaters were high on it.
Frank turned his wand on Rodolphus and Rabastan when they went for his wife, but Barty disarmed the Auror before he could cast any spells. “Can’t have you stopping the fun,” Barty said, and Bellatrix nodded approvingly.
“Time to play boys,” she purred, tapping her wand against her palm. “Who can make theirs scream the loudest?”
Rodolphus smiles as he watches his brother and wife work their magic on Frankie; he has never heard sweeter screams. Rabastan has never been in finer form, and for once, he is the one inspiring Rodolphus to greater depths of depravity and wickedness.
***