ALBATROSS

When: January 16th, evening Who: open Where: Deuxième Chance

Standing behind his bar, Nathan couldn’t help but be a little bit proud at how busy it was. Sometimes it still baffled him that he had a legitimate business. He had created something that was entirely his own, and built it from the ground up to be both sustainable and something good. Sometimes he enjoyed being back in the kitchen cooking, others he enjoyed being behind the bar just chatting and waiting on patrons. Tonight he was covering for one of his staff, so he stayed behind the bar and kept himself occupied as people filtered in and out. 

However, seeing a familiar face, he couldn’t help but approach with his casual cocksure smile as he asked, “Anything I can get for you?” he asked. 

--

Rabastan could be considered a foodie, although the term made him cringe a bit. He’d taken up cooking shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, and it was a hobby that lead him to really value a good meal. Nate’s restaurant was one of his favorites – although he’d be lying if he said he only went there for the food, which is why he was sitting at the bar with only a beer in front of him.

With every sip he caught himself peering over the edge of the glass, and at long last Nate made eye contact with him. Bas put his drink down and hoped that the boy hadn’t caught him staring. The sight of Nate’s crooked smile brought one to his own face, as well. “I should probably get something in my stomach aside from beer. Surprise me?”

Remus had felt hopeless since he saw the news that morning, felt like the walls were closing in, tight enough to crush him.  Walls that looked surprisingly like the cell his father had built him in the basement before he’d left.  Cold, rough hewn stone and cruel silver bars, harsh magical fortification spells.  That was always the scene for his nightmares, and now it had been brought into sharp contrast with his real life.  

But it didn’t really compare to the hopelessness he felt in that exact moment; feeling Rabastan in the house, smelling the blood and sweat and tears and feeling, somehow the same kind of hopelessness reflected back at him.  Remus felt like perhaps a part of his heart was breaking in  his chest. He had vowed from the beginning, from the time he’d learned Rabastan was like him, that he would protect him from the worst of it. Try to give him the things Remus hadn’t been given in terms of support and caring.  This was a failure of epic proportions.  He should have worried more, not hearing from Bas before the moon, he should have done something.  And there was an air over the whole building that something horrific had happened, and Remus had the aching feeling  that it was somehow his fault.

His breath caught when he heard the rattle of the bathroom door, even as he felt a surge of relief when he saw Rabastan stumble out of it.  At least he was well enough to be on his own two feet, that was something.  “Hey,” he managed to breathe out, his voice shaky and too small to his own ears.  But the smell of blood was stronger now, two distinct types too and it turned his stomach and Remus was honestly proud of himself for not breaking down weeping on the spot.   He knew he had to say something more, he had to do something more, but he felt frozen to the spot.  

At least until he felt Rabastan’s arms slide around him and he let out something between a ragged gasp and a sob, clutching him back, feeling like he was crushing the younger man to his chest, but unable to stop.  "Hey, you’re okay,“ he said softly, uselessly, saying it mostly because he wanted it to be true. "I’m fine,” he promised.  "I’m safe.  I saw the news this morning and all I could think about was getting to you.“  He pulled back slightly and put his hand lightly on Rabastan’s cheek, tilting his head up to look into his eyes, concern deeply written across his expression.

"You’re hurt,” he said gently, instead of asking what had happened, what he could remember of the previous night.  He desperately wanted to, but that could wait. Remus could see the scratches on his arms, some of them still oozing drops of blood. “Come on,  go sit down, I’ll get you patched up,” he said softly, giving Bas’s shoulder a squeeze and letting his hand gently fall from his cheek.  “Come on,” he said again, and led Rabastan to the nearest chair before rummaging around for the first aid kit, and silently thanking whatever foresight led to him learning a few first aid skills from Madam Pomfrey in his day.  He quickly returned to where he’d set Bas and gingerly started to clean the small wounds on his arms, biting at his lower lip.  "I know something happened.  I can…I can tell.  But we don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?  Just sit here and let me take care of you.“

--

It felt like he was moving through a fog. He felt Remus’ soft touch on his face, his hands on his arms as he lead him to a chair, but he still seemed far away. He looked down at himself, at the small trails of blood that trickled down his arms. Nellie had attempted to clean him up – she nearly forced him to stay, really, in typical Nellie fashion – but he’d insisted that he wanted to go home and do it himself. After having cried out his whole body weight in tears on her shoulder, Bas just couldn’t put her through the strain of patching up his physical wounds. It made him feel exceptionally weak, even though he knew she wouldn’t see it that way. He still felt like he should be the one protecting her, not the other way around. 

Now, with Remus dabbing at his wounds, he couldn’t help but feel that same guilt he’d felt with Nellie come back to the surface. “You don’t have to, Remus,” he protested weakly. He hated feeling so helpless. Remus had aided him through plenty of rough transitions, both physically and mentally, and he was beginning to resent himself for it. It was seeming like he was failing everyone he was supposed to protect, broken down into a young boy again. He wanted to be strong. To have not cried in front of Nellie, to not be sitting here in shambles before his best friend. But he felt broken and his body felt like lead, so he didn’t move – aside from a small flinch here or there when Remus touched a particularly bad spot. 

His eyes remained trained on the floor, and he closed them when he felt the fresh prick of tears forming once more. “I did something really bad,” he whispered, his fists clenching. “I– I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to. And the wolfsbane...I can still see it. I remember everything.” A tear escaped his eye and he quickly wiped it away, causing his arm to move from Remus’s grasp. His words probably sounded like crazy talk to Remus, who had no clue of the situation. 

He wasn’t supposed to tell, and he knew that. But it was Remus. His best friend, his closest ally. The only one who could truly understand Rabastan completely through and through. He wanted to tell him the whole thing, but something stopped him. It felt like he physically couldn’t get the words out. “Nel said it wasn’t my fault. Evan said it wasn’t my fault. But... I– feel like a monster. More than ever before.” Bas looked up at Remus, fists still clenched. “I’m a monster. I was aware, the potion– I could’ve tried harder to stop it...” he cut himself off, getting choked up on his own words.

Even before Rodolphus had turned into enemy number one, Evan had considered Rabastan one of his people, just as much a sibling to him as Nellie had ever been.  He hadn’t exactly needed the kind of protection he’d doled out to Nell, but Evan had extended himself as much as he could, assuming Rod, even in his fanaticism would do the same.  Because that was what you did for family, regardless of politics, regardless of anything.  And then Rodolphus had proved to be farther gone than Evan could have imagined.  And the thing was, he should have seen it.  He was with Rod day in and day out, and he’d just that once been blind to the signs.

He wouldn’t be again.

The fact remained however, that he was at least partially to blame for everything that had happened to Bas, since he’d been blind to just how diabolical Rodolphus could be.  That was why it was so painful to look at Bas these days and just see all the many ways he’d failed him, how his life would never be the same because Evan had thought that there was one line Rod wouldn’t cross.  And it would be his cross to bear until the day he died.  He couldn’t atone enough.

It all hit him in a rolling wave, but he managed to lock down any kind of emotional outpouring and just gave Bas a cocky smile that was only a little bit put on.  It was hard not to smile when he saw Rabastan smile back at him.  "Fuck you,“ he said cheerfully, slapping him gently on the back.  "I have always aimed to be the least inspiring person around, so stop it.  You should always try to be the opposite of me,” he said and smirked, finally waving down the bartender to order a round of drinks.

Evan was trying to stay as cheerful as possible, even if he was breaking around the corners, but he couldn’t hold back a full out wince when he heard Bas start to stumble over his words.  He could see it in his eyes what he wanted to know, what he was trying to stay, and Evan felt one hand curl into a fist out of reflex.  "It’s better forgotten,“ he said darkly, unable to stop himself.  "He’s lost his damn mind anyway, fucking traitor motherfucker,” he couldn’t help continuing, and he forced himself to unclench his fist when he felt the sharp bite of his fingernails into his palm.  "How are you doing, that’s the real question.  What I’m really worried about.“

--

It’s better forgotten. Bas knew his cousin was probably right, but that didn’t make forgetting any easier. How could he? Growing up he was always just as close to Evan and Nellie as he was with Rod, if not more so. But Rodolphus was his first best friend and first protector. More than anyone else, he believed Rod would have his back. He’d even stand up for Bas in front of their father, their very first enemy. They’d always had differing views, sure, especially once Bas got sorted into Hufflepuff; but they had each others’ backs. Now, he couldn’t help but feel that Rodolphus had been using him the entire time just like his father and uncle. 

A small smile twisted the corner of his lips at Evan’s string of profanities. Rabastan knew he and Nellie were just about ready to die if it meant protecting him – and everyone else – from Rodolphus in the future. But that was what he hated. He didn’t want either of them doing anything stupid on his behalf. Bas and his cousins had always known that Rod was generally crueler and held more steadfast to their parents’ beliefs, but none of them had expected he’d turn on them. It was supposed to be the four of them against the world. 

“I should have seen it coming.” Bas pressed his lips together after speaking, determined to leave it as Evan had suggested. The bartender handed them each a drink, and Rabastan clinked his glass against Evan’s before downing nearly half of it. He slammed the glass back down onto the bar, wincing slightly at the burn. “How am I doing? Fuckin’ grand, brother.” The buzz was at least making him feel a bit better. “Work is great, at least. Supposed to be going on another trip soon, which I’m looking forward to...” Suddenly, something occurred to him. “But with everything going on with Rod, if you and Nellie need extra help...I can always tell Emmeline I can’t. Not sure if it’d go over well, but hell, I haven’t given her a reason to dislike me yet,” he said with a chuckle. “What about you, aside from the obvious awfulness?”

Ren was not a bar-goer. He had little interest in sitting among strangers and sipping drinks that were supposed to taste good but never quite hit the spot– he would always rather sit among friends, tossing back mixtures of whatever liquor was leftover in the cabinets. Yet when he began to check on the members of the Rising, just little check-ins to see how everyone was doing in the aftermath of the storm that had hit their lives, he had found too many of their friends and partners in arms in various bars. 

So he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and weaved his way through the throngs of people, making his way toward the bar. That’s where the disheartened always seemed to end up, nursing a drink between their hands. When he saw Rabastan, Ren’s lips turned up into a small smile, though there was little of his typical joy in it. “You’ve got it, Bas,” Ren responded, slipping into the seat next to the other man. “But I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m not much of a drinker. You’ll have to pick something out for me.”

--

As soon as Rabastan saw Ren’s smile, he knew that he wasn’t fully present. He silently argued himself whether to ask about what was going on. After all, weren’t they all going through some level of hell at this point? “Try a sip of this and let me know if you like it,” he said, sliding his glass of whiskey and coke over to his friend. It was fairly cheap whiskey. Even though he was doing well for himself these days, he never cared much for expensive things. He always feared he would take after his mother and obsess over his possessions if he spent too much time and money on them. 

“How’s it going? I mean, not great, I’m sure. But not counting the general mayhem.” Bas always enjoyed conversation with Ren. They’d been friends since their Hogwarts days, and it seemed to have happened quite naturally. No matter the topic, Bas was always ready to get into a thorough debate or discussion just for the purpose of learning something. This seemed to be a trait he and Ren shared. Rabastan appreciated his intelligence and always felt he could learn something from Ren, despite the latter being the younger of the two.

She hadn’t wanted to drink alone. A glass of wine in her sitting room was fair-game, but Emma refused to pass the line of drinking anything harder by herself in her flat. For once, she had changed out of her work attire, instead wearing beige trousers cinched in at the waist, with a black lace blouse. In all honesty, she probably would wear it to work, but she hadn’t so far, and that was the point. She and Evans had been working tirelessly to make sure Moody and Shacklebolt’s release had gone smoothly and by all rights she should be exhausted. But she simply felt energised. Unable to work on cases until tomorrow, she decided to put that energy into something else. 

Emma had seated herself in the corner of the bar, small notebook open in front of her. Her ballpoint pen, something her Pere insisted she use more often than the wizard-preferred quills, tapped lightly on the surface of the paper. She had a habit of observing people when she was in public, scribbling down vaguely understandable notes in her elegant scroll. She did nothing with said notes but she found it helped hone her skills in interrogation. Noticing behaviour. She had just started writing notes on the dark haired man sat at the bar, at the way his fingers were tapping, when he turned around and she realised she recognised him. She rose instantly, gliding over to where he was sat. “Rabastan,” she smiled, slipping onto the stool next to him. “I had the same thought.” One hand raised to call the bartender over and her smile changed. Less true, with a slight tilt of her chin. Her accent changed too, the French vowels emphasised as she ordered herself another drink, “Would you like anything?” 

--

Emma was always great company in Rabastan’s opinion. He always found himself exceptionally drawn to people with different backgrounds than his own. She was elegant and sweet, which surely helped his intrigue. Perhaps it was just the Veela charm, but he liked to give her more credit than that. From what he knew of her, she was as hard-working and intelligent as she was beautiful. “Emma,” he greeted her, his smile warming as he pulled himself fully from his thoughts. “I thought the air in here seemed more pleasant than usual,” he said, a hint of teasing to his voice. 

At her question, he gestured to the half-full drink in front of him and shook his head. “That’s alright, still working on this one.” He relaxed into his chair a bit more, suddenly realizing how tense he’d been while thinking. Rabastan pointed to her notebook, curiosity piquing him. “Taking notes even at the bar, yeah? Anything of interest?”

Alice straddled both sides of the divide in her world; the barely truly spoken about ( aside to those who shared the views you held ) divide that was so glaringly obvious but mostly just acknowledged and not spoken about to avoid the provocation of the situation. But yet, Alice sat on both sides, or rather, tucked neatly in the middle. Why? Well mostly due to her business. She held many of the most important or wealthy witches and wizards in the palm of her hand ( or perhaps, in the coil of her sheets, was more apt? ). But that wasn’t just it. Alice was charming, intelligent, well versed in ettiquette, extraordinarily compassionate, able to hold an interesting conversation, able to talk politics, or frivilous things. She could provoke, excite, entice, and be controversial. She could listen to about any conversation in existence and pretend intrigue, offer insight, or cleverly stay quiet and enjoy her drink. So really it was no surprise she could slip right into the halls of any manor and seem right at home. But similarly; she could be rowdy and gleeful and be the loudest laugh in the room. She wasn’t afraid to be ‘unladylike’ as she found the notice entirely ridiculous, which is why she could equally be seen right a home at the hearth of any pub with a friend from any and every background. Alice was aware she was priviledged in her station. Even if she’d work incredibly hard to earn that place herself. 

Tonight, she found herself with a night to herself. Her client session had ended early and she still had a few kid free hours. So she’d decided to treat herself to a nightcap and some peope watching. And yet, the familair face of Rabastan Lestrange found her gaze. She smiled. “Hello darling,” she spoke smoothly, taking the seat beside him. “I’m happy to be your company,” she told him. She ordered a whiskey sour. 

--

Rabastan stretched his grin a bit wider when Alice sat beside him. “Well, I couldn’t ask for better,” he responded with a wink. Alice was just a few years his senior he could still remember all the boys in his house swooning over the older girl during their Hogwarts days. While the two weren’t particularly close, they’d certainly spent enough time together through their work on both sides. She was strong; outspoken, but observant when need be. A chameleon of sorts – similar to himself.

He took a sip of the drink he was still nursing, nodding in approval at Alice’s drink order. “I might go for one of those next. Mixing liquors never ends up as badly as they say, right?” he asked as he eyed the martini in front of him. “Fuck it,” he said, downing the rest of his drink and ordering a whiskey sour along with her. Bas shifted in his seat to angle towards her, resting his elbow on the bar in front of him. “So, what brings you out tonight? Neville’s not a good drinking buddy?” 

____

Ever since Rodolphus had taken office, a perpetual knot had resided in her stomach. No matter how hard she tried to release the stress, it seemed to clutch onto her desperately. So, Nellie was taking matters firmly into her own hands, and she was dragging Rabastan with her, knowing he was likely living in the same state. Having grown up so closely, it was hard not to read him through and through. So Nellie found a sense of peace in their wordless cheers and downed nearly half her glass in one go. 

“Bloody hell, Bas, you’re a saint. Don’t tell anyone, but this is why you’re my favorite,” she teased, giving him a warm smile. Kicking her feet out as they dangled, she took a smaller sip, allowing herself to actually taste the wine this go around, instead of just going straight for the buzz of it all. She gave a tired hum, “Horribly. I mean, you’ve met your brother. It’s like doing damage control for a giant narcissist who somehow thinks he’s right even though he also knows what he did was illegal. Frankly, it’s a testament to how good at her job Thea is that the general public believes he had no idea, and my acting skills,” she mused. Running her hand through her hair, Nellie gave a sigh, “How’s working for my sister? I’m sure there’s been a shift now that Rod has her running the place.” 

--

“Nel, come on. Everyone already knows I’m your favorite. I’m everyone’s favorite.” He held his arms out with a silly grin on his face. “Don’t thank me yet. I might end up drinking both on my own – wouldn’t be the first time.” Being in Nellie’s presence was already making him feel a bit more normal. Ever since the werewolf attacks, Bas felt like he had a target on his back. His brother had assured him that no one would find out about his involvement and he trusted that, considering Rod would be taken down along with him if word got out. Still, the paranoia in addition to the guilt that sat in his stomach was enough to make him feel sick upon waking each morning as of late.

Bas couldn’t help but laugh at Nellie’s answer, but there was a tinge of pain in his smile that he didn’t even attempt to hide. Nellie would see right through him, anyway. She always did. “I still haven’t spoken to him,” he said softly, his eyes darting to the ground for a brief moment. He took another long sip from his glass before setting it beside him, rubbing his hands together in front of him. A brief shake of his head seemed to dispel the bad train of thought, and he looked back up to meet his cousin’s eyes.

“Emmeline is tough. A bit more paperwork than I’m used to, but other than that things are going swimmingly. Keeps me on my feet. She’s sending me to Paris again next week. I’m thinking I need to ask Emma for some lessons – I sound like a bloody idiot when I try to speak French.” He watched Nellie’s legs swing back and forth, suddenly sitting up straight and pointing at her lower half. “Thief! I’ve been looking for those sweatpants for weeks.” Bas shook his head, giving her a wry smile. “I’m going to start putting locks on my dresser when you come over, I swear.”

It was fair to say that Evan felt incredibly dirty most days, like the stink of the things he was forced to do would be sticking to his skin forever.  It was common for him to spend far too long washing his hands these days, scrubbing under his fingernails like there was any blood underneath them other than his own when he scrubbed too hard or too long.  And lately…well it was just worse.  Today was the end of several plans long in the making and all of them were a success.  But they ended with selling some poor sap down the river, and when he died, and he would, Evan was sure of that, die screaming his innocence, probably, that blood was all on him.  

He was fresh as a fucking daisy and he felt like he was drenched in filth.  So the only thing to do was drink about it, and that was why he came in that night, ready to kill off a few more brain cells and retreat to lick his wounds.  

What he didn’t expect was to find Rabastan sitting at the bar, looking for a moment, nearly as destitute as Evan felt.  He felt a surge of the same kind of protective love he felt every time he saw Nellie, and a million questions flooded into his mind- what happened, who hurt him, who must I kill now- and then Bas smiled at him and he relaxed a little and grabbed the stool next to him.  "Hey now, little brother,“ he said with a grin and a wink.  ”I know you look up to me, but you don’t have to take after me that hard.  Drinking alone is my thing, you can’t have it.  I swear to Merlin you and Nell are going to be the death of me, following in my regrettable footsteps all the damn time.“

Evan reached out and pat Rabastan gently on the back, giving him a small smile.  “Let me buy you a round at least, and then you can let me worry about you being here alone and we can have that whole talk about how I’m an overprotective bastard later.” 

--

If there was anyone who’s company he could have asked for at that moment, it was Evan’s. That wasn’t terribly uncommon, though. Especially now that he’d lost Rodolphus, technically speaking, Evan made him feel safe. He always had. A big brother that actually had Rabastan’s best interests at heart. 

Still, seeing the exhaustion tracing his cousin’s features caused his insides to twist with guilt. It wasn’t all due to Bellatrix’s death that Evan was working himself so hard, but it certainly seemed to be a big chunk of his work load – and Nellie’s, too. He regretted telling them the truth, if only because it would have saved a bit of their own sanity. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was strong enough to shoulder the secret on his own. 

His comment did bring a genuine smile to Rabastan’s face, and a small laugh escaped him. “Can’t help it, brother. You just inspire me so much in every way,” he teased with a grin. Bas downed the rest of his drink – it was beginning to grow temperate from how long it’d been sitting on the bar, anyway. “Alright, alright, if you insist. You look like you could use a few drinks yourself, anyway.” 

Rabastan chewed his lip, escaping back into thought for a moment. “Have you, ah–” he stopped himself short before he could ask the question on his mind. Have you talked to Rod? Seen him? Bas could curse himself for the fact that he was still concerned about his older brother. He hadn’t spoken to Rod himself in days, intent on avoiding him. “Forget it, actually. Just buy me something strong, would ya?”

When: The night after the werewolf attacks Where: Rabastan’s Residence Who: @basthestrange·

Remus woke up the night after the full moon as fuzzy as ever, like his brain was filled with cotton batting and he had to fight through it to regain himself.  It wasn’t as bad as he was when he was child, when he’d been trapped and secluded, forced to rip himself to pieces in his agony.  Then it had been different waking up with his own blood in his mouth, and feeling pain at every movement, trying to figure out what was bleeding and where and how badly.  It was kinder now, life was generally kinder now.  Now he woke up just slightly confused, the only aches a bit like arthritis as he stretched himself out.

It had been a standard sort of moon, all told, running about with the pack and chasing rabbits, the pure esctacy of howling at the moon and all that.  He wiped his eyes and it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t heard from Rabastan at all.  It wasn’t as if they spent every full moon together, but there was a general sort of plan, and he tended to know where he was.  But now he couldn’t piece it together and with that came a small amount of fear.

Which seemed almost out of place, and Remus would have written it all off as paranoia blown out of proportion, but then he saw the headlines splashed across the front page of the papers and promptly threw up until he was gasping and writhing on the bathroom floor, heaving and wretched.  It was the kind of nightmare he’d been having for decades, the things that could happen, the things he might do if he ever lost control.  And it had happened, by god, and not just one or two, a whole slew of werewolves attacking en masse.  Remus wasn’t there, he hadn’t been there, he knew that for sure, but it still felt as if he had, as if somehow they all had some kind of collective consciousness.  Because he could imagine it.  Or the wolf part of him could.  The delight of human flesh in his mouth, the taste of blood, the sound of screams.  How sated that part of him would feel afterward.

Remus honestly lost track of time, lying there, heaving and sobbing and trying to make some ounce of sense of what had happened.  It was concern for Rabastan that finally got him moving again, and he fumbled with his phone for far too long before calling his phone what felt like a million times and leaving a slew of text messages.  When none came back answered, Remus forced himself up and into the shower, and made his way out.  

It was an unfortunate reality of their situations that he had to wait until dark to actually approach Rabastan’s place, but there was nothing to be done for it.  And if Rabastan had indeed had a rough moon ( and pray to God he hadn’t, oh Remus didn’t think he believed in such things, but he prayed anyway every second ) he might not have even been awake or aware yet.  But the second it felt safe, Remus was just letting himself inside, forgoing the need to knock or make his presence known, following his nose.

Other than the familiar smell of Rabastan there was something darker and more pungent, and Remus felt his stomach roll when he recognized it as blood.  Old blood, perhaps blood that had been cleaned already, but the stains just stayed and stayed.  He felt his gorge rise again, something tremulous, and he reached out to steady himself against the wall, trying not to give in to fearing the absolutely worst.  “Rabastan?” he called, even though he knew he could just burst into the room, but he’d rather have some kind of warning to what he’d find when he pushed through the door.  “Bas?  It’s me,” he said, his voice faltering.

---

How long had he been sitting there on the bathroom floor? Head in his hands, body burning from the general unpleasantness of the transition and wounds left untreated. His back rested against the cold marble of the tub, causing the still water inside of it to ripple each time a new sob or scream ripped its way out of him. The bath had gone cold, considering he hadn’t yet gained the strength to pull himself into it. Shattered glass, both from the bathroom mirror and his phone screen, was scattered around his bare feet. 

Eating something may be beneficial, considering his growling stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to even fathom chewing and swallowing something when he still had the taste of blood in his mouth. Her blood. Sure, Bas had never been fond of Bellatrix – but did that make the situation any easier for him to stomach? No. He couldn’t even pick out what the worst bit of it was – whether he had blood on his hands, or whether the whole reason for it was because his own brother had used and betrayed him.

Rabastan bit down on his knuckle, knees pulled tightly into his chest. He was trying to suppress another round of dry heaving when a voice shook him from his thoughts. Bas nearly jumped out of his skin, sending glass skirting across the floor as he tried to scramble to his feet. Remus. It only made sense that he’d be looking for him, especially if he’d seen the papers. Bas peered into the smashed remains of the mirror, fruitlessly attempting to look at least half as disheveled as he truly was. Seeing the open cuts and scratches on his arms and torso, the bags under his eyes, the dirt still caked into his fingers and toes...it made him want to lock himself in there and wait until Remus left. But knowing his friend, he would simply stay regardless.

Hearing Remus’ voice falter when he called out to him again made him wince. He sucked in a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, slowly wandering out into the hallway until his eyes settled on the familiar figure. Rabastan stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to say or how to begin. He decided to focus on the flood of relief that washed over him upon seeing that Remus seemed unscathed, and without a word Bas pulled him into a tight hug.

“I...” he began, clutching to his friend harder than he’d meant to. After a few moments it became apparent that words weren’t going to come to him. He pulled away from the hug but still gripped his friend’s arms, shaking his head slowly. There was a look of horror in his eyes that he couldn’t shake. “You’re okay,” he mumbled, at first unsure of whether he was speaking to himself or Remus. “At least you’re okay...thank Merlin you’re okay.”

Sleeping at night was becoming more of a struggle. Knowing that so many of those close to him were working overtime to clean up the mess that he created was weighing heavily on his conscience – even more so was the burden of keeping the secret buried and watching innocent people be accused. Rodolphus had used him as part of his own filthy scheme and Rabastan was left to simmer in the guilt. Nothing could convince him that this wasn’t his fault; he felt like a danger to society. A monster. Just like the papers painted him.

And so he found himself at the bar, alone, ruminating in his thoughts. Rabastan had grown used to dining and drinking alone since he traveled so often. While he greatly enjoyed the company of his friends, he did enjoy the solitude every so often. He was drinking slowly, tapping his fingers against the surface at the bar, observing other patrons. As he absentmindedly scanned the crowd he spotted a familiar face and tried to shake himself from his thoughts, flashing the most authentic smile he could manage. “I'd like to say I don’t normally make a habit of drinking alone, but I do enjoy it every so often.” He gestured to the seat next to him. “That being said, I wouldn't mind some company.” 

When: friday, after work Who: @basthestrange· Where: nellie & reg’s flat

By the time Nellie got home, she was tired, annoyed, and altogether ready to be done with the day. Regulus still wasn’t home yet, which was surprising as Nellie rarely beat him home, but then she had left the office early today at Rodolphus’ word. She was working hard, he’d said, and deserved a break, and Nellie would have appreciated the sentiment more if she wasn’t so incredibly angry with him. Still, she’d texted Bas, asked if he was free, and told him to come over anyways. Changing from her work attire into a pair of sweatpants, stolen from one of her brothers she was sure, and one of Regulus’ sweatshirts, she moved into the kitchen to pull a bottle of wine from the fridge. Pouring two glasses, Nellie hopped up on the counter when she heard the familiar sound of a key opening the door. Seeing Bas as he walked in, she raised a glass to him and said “Drink with me, please, and watch films because I am done with today and so are you.” 

---

The week had been a long one. Work always seemed to drag on much slower when he was in the office as opposed to traveling. When he received Nellie’s text asking – rhetorically, of course – if he was free, he already felt some of the stress of the last few days begin to evaporate. After a quick trip to the liquor store he started on the familiar route to the flat she and Regulus shared, letting himself in once he got there. 

“Merlin, yes, I am,” he agreed, smiling at the sight of the glass extended towards him. Bas took the wine and clinked his glass against hers in a wordless ‘cheers’ before taking a generous gulp. He set the glass down and pulled two extra bottles of wine out from the bag he’d carried in with him, holding them up for Nellie to see. “Just in case we need extra stress relief tonight. I sure as hell do.” Bas chuckled and hopped up onto the counter across from her, picking up his glass once more. “So. How’s damage control going?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

RABASTAN LESTRANGE. 22. BISEXUAL. ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. DIPLOMAT FOR THE INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS.

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