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Your Brotherâs Keeper | Solo Para
Involved: Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy
Location: Malfoy Manor (One of those bloody tea rooms)
Time: IndeterminateÂ
Word Count: 1573
"Don't you feel angry?"
"Angry for what?"
"Your brother is the heir. Surely your ambition lies further than being some eternal socialite, Rabastan."
There was a time when, yes, Rabastan could suppose he was a bit emotional over being the second-born son. When the metallic taste of his sibling's blood was more sweet to him than the best pastry. When, just once, he wanted to see his brother fall short and his parents' attention would have to turn to him to redeem the family name. When he was twelve and encountering teenaged angst for the first time due to an unfortunate sudden case of puberty finally hitting him. He got over it. In truth, the only time the Lestrange brothers were at odds in any way was when Rodolphus first entered Hogwarts and young Rabbit was left behind for the first time ever in his life. Left behind with a young Andromeda and Narcissa but left all the same. But it simply made holidays more important, every owl clutching a letter solely for him more cherished. So when rage and heartbreak suddenly swelled in Rabastan's chest right before his second year, all it took was Rodolphus' concerned frown to remind Rabastan how he really felt about being his younger brother.
Loved. Privileged. Lucky.
So lucky, in fact, that Rodolphus' presence became more than just the comfort of home but, in fact, just about the most important thing in his life. With Rod as his older brother, Rabastan had no worries. Every thing he wanted, he could have. Every problem he had could be solved. Every plan he needed executed came with the divine protection that was Rodolphus Lestrange's influence. Every night out spent getting into drunken stupors or bloody fights or balls deep in a redhead was covered by his older brother. And Rabastan reveled in the freedom he was allowed.
"If Rod were a right bastard, I could feel like my ambitions were hindered but that's not particularly the case."
"But do you not want to step out of his shadow? At all?"
âOut of it?â Rabastan laughed, incredulous at the thought. No, not incredulous. Frightened. Rodolphus was everything he would have to be become if necessary. Why put that pressure on himself? Why scramble for a spotlight not meant for sharing when heâd created his own successful niche? Why take away from Rodolphus his pride, his dignity, his role in the proper world when Rabbit was doing just fine for himself behind the scenes? âLucius, youâre an only child. You wouldnât understand how important his shadow is to me.â
Shopping Bedlam; [open]
With mere days it seems to the beginning of the new school term, Diagon Alley is a whirlwind of schoolchildren and harassed parents, pinched looks of shop keepers and hoots and hisses of newly purchased pets. Minerva does her best to navigate through the throngs of the shopping lanes, keeping an eye on eleven year olds running underfoot. Itâs not much different than the waves of students flooding Hogwartsâ corridors between lessons and the astute woman succeeds at keeping herself from running into people with aplomb.
That is, until a train of young boys careen past from behind her and one catches her in the side as he passes, sending Minerva on a teetering spin that lands her on her rear end. The boy looks over his shoulder even as he scampers to keep up with his friends, eyes wide and uncertain, and only mildly apologetic. As she tries to pull herself to rights, Minerva hopes he has a fright when he sees her at the welcoming dinner on his first night to the castle.Â
âWho in their right mind comes out to the shops at this time of year?â she asks to no one in particular as she collects her bag and attempts to leverage herself to her feet. Unfortunately, her splayed out hand becomes the surface of a shopperâs next footfall. Minerva only grimaces as the unawares owner of the offending foot lifts off. âMe, thatâs who,â she mutters in her frustration, cradling the bruised hand against her chest and giving sharp looks to those who move around her without offering to help her up.
It had always been a chore going to Diagon even as a student. His mother had never insisted on him or his brother joining her in shopping for their school things but heâd always enjoyed the reprieve from the manor even as it exposed him to the plebeians of the world. As an adult, he found himself even less eager to subject himself to the nonsense that was the shopping area, especially as it grew closer to the start of the school year. It wasnât that he didnât like children - not when he actually liked helping Fabian and Gideon babysit their nephews at times and was eagerly awaiting Rod and Bella to provide him with a similar responsibility - but literally every other person was barbaric in every single way.
Horrible language from the smallest of people for the smallest of things. Disgusting foot traffic that was as never ending as it was unnecessary. And manners that seemingly everybody lacked at all times. Nighttime behavior be damned, Rabastan was too much a prim socialite for this type of behavior. But it was necessary to subject himself for the moment, if only because he was thinking of getting a second wand. Unfortunately, his plans were just a tad derailed at the sight of four hooligans rushing through the crowd - in the opposite direction of traffic! - and knocked over someone. The former Slytherin scoffed, looking to sidestep the fallen, when he sees and recognizes exactly who on the floor just had their hand trampled on.
âProfessor?â For all his misbehaving in school, heâd been too proud to do anything but pass as many classes as possible, one Minerva McGonagallâs included. Rab blocked her from sight with his broad shoulders, reaching down to assist. âSurely this is not the time nor place for a catnap, Professor McGonagall,â he joked, hoping to ease the pitched look on her face. Rab could not help his face, though, knowing full well his concern was evident for anyone to see.
Restrain Yourself | Rabastan & Narcnissa | Morning of July 5th 1978
narcissa-antiquissima
Rabastanâs tongue was silver today, covering up every slip with sweet powder to conceal it from her. She never came out of a conversation with Rabastan feeling satisfied. He was as sly as she was, and he knew all of her tricks; Narcissa could no more best Rabastan than he could overcome her. She sipped her tea, wrinkling her nose at his suggestion. Any woman he married would have to put up with more eccentricities than the Black womenâs jealousy.
âIâm certain that is your main concern,â she told him, âand it is a selfless one indeed. But you must understandâŠâ Narcissa squeezed his hand affectionately, though as genuine as she was, there was always a hint of scheming. âWe are your sisters in heart if not blood, and we only wish for your happiness. Remaining so long unattached can have a peculiar effect on a manâs humor.â
Jab returned, Narcissa smiled at him, reveling in her momentary successâsurely, Rabastan would return something just as snide and stymie her again, but for now she could be pleased with herself.
hedonrab
Rabastan normally had little problem accepting small touches of affection from Narcissa but today his nerves seemed to be on edge. Her words seemed to fizzle out of his perception the moment she squeezed his hand and instead turned into a jolt of sensation racing up his limb. His cheeks warmed just enough to potentially draw attention but he at least made sure not to shiver. Remaining unattached seemed to have a peculiar effect on Rabâs everything, least of all his humor.
âConsidering what marriage has done to yours, Iâm better off, dear,â he quipped, halfheartedly providing a rebuttal as he felt his lapse in body control settle. He needed to get over what happened earlier fast. Probably after theyâd finished tea and heâd had a chance hit the restroom. Fabian would laugh him out of house and home if he knew about this. This again, this was Cissa and Rabâs bias towards any of the three sisters was always something to tease him about. Nothing else in mind, he raised her hand and quickly half turned it, pressing a soft peck on her palm.
âI do appreciate your concern though, Cissa. As always.â

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â Death Eaters aesthetics.
(via Brant Daugherty @brantdaugherty BeastsInstagram photo | Websta)
âThey were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty.â
A mix dedicated to the original followers, teenage boys dedicated to a powerful leader with ill intent.Â
1 hour, 51 minutes | 30 tracks | listen
Réservations MinistÚre | Rabastan & Amelia | Midday July 26th, 1978
Her bright grin at his admission strengthened his own smile, pleased with her excitement. It wasnât every day that your former Head Girl actually wanted to see you work with them after all the detentions she had dealt you but Amelia Bones was one of a kind. The former Hufflepuff turned her complete focus on him and he found himself wishing he were the type to fidget. It wasnât as if he was not used to attention - far from it - it was just that this had never been the sort of thing he pictured himself having to discuss, let alone with someone who wasnât family. Still, she was familiar and friendly and if that didnât mean much in this bloody building, Rabastan didnât know what.
âWell, Iâve already had two,â He said, opening up a cauldron cake on his plate and delicately breaking a piece off as he spoke. âOne was with magical education, who recommended that since Hogwarts was not looking for student teachers or any teachers at the moment, I would do well to apply for a position at Beauxbatons with my dual citizenship or invest in private tutoring.â His blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling as his exasperation at the recommendation returned to him, albeit briefly, before he ate another piece of cake and then went to shuffle through his papers. âAnd after that was a brief discussion with some members from magical creature control but I wasnât trying to in there if I could help it.â Honesty, in this case, would best help him. Magical creatures were not a subject that interested most, if many purebloods at all, and it was luck that had Rabastan sending them an owl in the first place. That, and the possibility of working with a couple of friends but he could not very well deny how unglamorous their departments were. It wasnât his fault he had appearances to keep when they didnât.
âI do have my eyes on the Foreign Affairs and Sports Department as well as Trading Standards and the research committee. I do know some of them already but your advice would be more than helpful.â Rabastan smoothly presented a parchment copy of his resume, the one heâd already owled his interviewers and had brought copies of just in case they decided to play dumb. He knew for someone with no technical job that his accomplishments were more than expected. Working with Septima and Selina on occasion had helped him, but he had also managed to do quite well in making a name for himself with researching things for his brother and Lucius and doing charity work with Narcissa. He could never be a lobbyist but fuck if he didnât know how to do it. It was just wanting to do whatever it was was put in front of him was the trouble.
Amelia nodded, listening carefully as he spoke. She couldnât see him fitting in well with the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; it was a bit less dignified work than she thought he would enjoy. However Foreign Affairs was a distinct possibility. She thought for a moment about who she knew in that department.Â
âHow many languages do you speak?â she asked thoughtfully, tapping her finger against her chin. âIf you can greet Ivan in Foreign affairs in Russian, youâll have an instant friend. The man loves to show off.â Pulling his resume closer to her, she glanced through it as she thought. âAlso, get him talking about the abysmal season the Russian Quidditch team is having â he might break something, but commiserate with him and let him rant. Do not, under any circumstances, mention his daughter. Sheâs starting her seventh year at Hogwarts and is a bit boy crazy. I told him how pretty she looked in the picture on his desk and he slammed it down so hard the glass in the frame broke and I got a twenty minute lecture about how she wasnât allowed to date before he realized I meant nothing at all by it.âÂ
She rolled her eyes at the memory. It was something she could see her brothers doing in regard to her â they tended to be a bit over protective and forget that she was an adult capable of taking care of herself.Â
Amelia looked over the resume again, taking careful note of all the charity work heâd done. Honestly, she was surprised Lucius or Narcissa hadnât given him more of a push toward one of their pet projects or departments, but perhaps he was looking to branch out.Â
âHave you considered public relations or even international relations?â she asked, looking back up at him. âYouâre a familiar name and face and sometimes that goes a long way in departments like that. They want the charismatic, familiar front man to put a friendly or familiar spin on their particular issue or topic in the hopes that it will gain them support. Itâs a thought, at least.âÂ
Her question was a very thoughtful one and he was glad to have found an actual friendly person who did not feel incredibly threatened by his mere presence there. None of the former classmates or acquaintances that he had met so far had even offered to being as helpful even by accident and here was Amelia Bones, being Amelia Bones, and offering it without a care besides getting him a possible fit. He mentally filed away the name she mentioned [To be fair, âIvanâ in Foreign Affairs was not terribly difficult] and considered her advice.Â
âI know some conversational Russian and Romanian in terms of Eastern European languages,â He conceded, knowing heâd failed to mention that on his written resume. It was hardly a be-all end-all of skill sets that would make or break anything but it was something heâd always considered a conversation piece, just as Amelia was hinting. In truth, all the Romanian heâd initially learned had been from Septima, which hardly made it suitable for daytime conversations between two men discussing work but heâd had the mind to pick up some more from other sources over the years. He could do Russian, he could do Quidditch. And he really could talk about this guyâs daughter so Rabastan really really hoped that said picture on the desk was still face down at the moment. To be fair, he was a sucker for girls whose fathers were just a tad overprotective; call it the rascal in him. âI shall make sure not to mention her,â He agreed with a small chuckle, knowing that if he ever had a daughter he would probably be the same way. Rabastan knew the type of young men that were in Hogwarts at that year - heâd been one not that long ago - so he understood very well just what this Ivan was trying to protect his daughter from.Â
Key word was trying but of course, Rabastan could wait until she was graduated and heâd gotten the job before going into someoneâs daughterâs room. If she was even attractive enough anyway.
The suggestion of international relations peaked his interest a bit more than Ivanâs attractive daughter and he stopped mid-chew of his snack, licking his lips. âThat does seem like a good thought though, Amelia. Does any of my charity work even coincide with any of their public works projects is the question...â The former trouble maker twisted his lips in a concerned frown, a bit unsure even though Amelia was normally spot on. He would take her advice, no problem, and he would do as she suggested. Sheâd never done him any harm and really, Rabastan didnât think anyone else would have any better ideas.  âI appreciate your assistance with this, by the way. You donât need to help me.â
Does Rabastan mind being compared to his brother? Does he thrive in his shadow? Wish he stood out more?
Truthfully, Rabastan has never had an issue being compared to his brother. They are two very different people that operate as a team in nearly aspect of their lives. If anything, being the younger brother has allowed Rabastan to develop his own interests and indeed thrive in his brotherâs shadow. He only worries about marriage now because his brother has married but there is barely any stress on him to get employment or do something âproductiveâ with his life except from his sister-in-laws. Rabastan can do as he wishes because Rodolphus has created such a shadow for him and heâs grateful. If standing out more meant being the Head of the family and not having the freedom he does now, he would gladly play spare heir for the rest of his life.Â

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sleep: what is the most comforting thing at night time for you?
visitor: what creature visits your dreams most often?
chimes: what sounds are your favorite?
times: when do you normally awaken?
marking: describe your tattoos,or tattoos you would like in the future?
reverie: think of somewhere otherworldly u wish to be within, what is it like there?
warmth: what do you find most charming in others?
treat: your favorite sweets ?
nestle: your most precious plush toy?
posy: your favorite herbs?
stories: books you remember from your childhood?
folk: who is the most fantastical being u have known?
elder: what do u expect to be like in your elder years?
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finds: what kind of item would you most likely buy from an antique store?
offering: how do you show others you are fond of them?
lore: if your life were a tale, how do u expect it would end??
Witch What?| Doe and Rab | August 14, 1978
A long weekend of working and having to watch werewolf after werewolf being dragged into the Werewolf Capture Unit was the only reason Dorc- as was not currently at work. Any other Monday she would have been at her tiny desk working, but Amos had granted her the day off after all of t- he additional hours she had worked over the past two days. She planned to spend it relaxing and trying to forget about what she had seen during t- he weekend. It was on days like this that she felt as if her battle was getti- ng her no where fast. She felt she needed to do more, but there was noth- ing else she could do while still fighting her battle with the Ministry.
Fabian was at work as far as she know, so she was not expecting anyone here until the afternoon at least when Fab would make his way back from work. The copy of Witch Weekly was her own, shockingly enough. Sheâd noticed it on a sales rack and picked it up when she noticed there was an article on werewolves inside. She wished she had never picked it up. Re- ading the article had only made her fuming with anger at the derogatory c- omments that had been deemed good to published by the makers of the magazine.
Turning away from the page in anger, her eyes soon landed upon a famil- iar face on one of the following pages. Rab. A nearly naked Rab. Eyes re- ad the page, barely taking in any of the information as her eyes kept on d- rifting back to the moving photograph on the page. Eyes still locked on the page, she did not hear the click of the door or the sound of someone appr- oaching from behind. The first she knew of Rabastanâs presence in the ro- om was when she heard him speak, causing her to jump where she was sitting on the sofa.
Her head swiveled around quickly upon hearing his voice, closing the ma- gazine in an instant.
   âYou?⊠What are you doing here? I wasnât looking a- I mean I wasnât r-    eading that⊠You!â
The hand which was still holding the magazine in her hand reached out, the magazine hitting Rab on the arm as she swung it at him like a bat.
   âWhat do you think youâre doing being in such trash? What they said about    werewolves in here⊠Merlin, itâs like they want us to go back a hundred y-    ears. They are still people, Rab. They canât help what has happened to the-    m and they shouldnât be spoken about like that. And then having you in ther-    e promoting yourself like that a few pages on. What were you even thinking?    Everything they said was entirely derogatory and wrong about werewolves    all of the people involved with this magazine are as intelligent as doxy drop-    pings.â
Rabastan had managed to glimpse the other side of the magazine before she smacked it shut, his mind already whirling. Those witches at the magazine had never told him what the layout was going to be and there he was, right next to the spread on helpful sex tips for young women trying to get their men to play more in the bedroom. He should probably be honored, especially considering how many members of the staff heâd gone through in that place, but he also felt a little embarrassed, knowing full well that Narcissa probably would not have agreed if she had known that this would be included in the issue.Â
Whack!
âWhat the hell, Doe?!â Rabastan yelped in surprise, rubbing the spot on his arm that she hit before listening to her rant. He eyed the rolled up glossy paper in her hand, wary of another strike, but his ears caught her plight. Werewolves? This wasnât even about his naughty pictures, really? Rabastan relaxed his shoulders, shaking his head as he walked around the sofa and made to snatch the magazine with little effort. Of all the reasons to attack him, the fact that he appeared in the same issue as a derogatory werewolf piece was not what he expected.Â
âYou act as if I planned out the issue myself. Honestly, Dorcas, do remember I cannot edit things I appear in.â He reopened the booklet, skimming through it with expertise. Rabastan wrinkled his nose at the werewolf piece - indeed absolutely uneducated and containing little fact of any of the last twenty years of research or personal experience - but then caught sight of his pages, pleased that his earlier observation had been correct. His face was next to a bunch of sex tips. He held up to magazine with ease, a smirk on his face.
âBesides, I would have thought you would have considered demeaning to my person of all things, love,â he offered, eyebrow arched as the small image of his stood proudly in his swim trunks and leaned against the beach chair, seemingly unaware of the naughty words splayed on the page beside him.
Oops? || Septima & Rabastan
Wine left her loose limbed and even looser tongued. The dark waves of her hairs tumbling across her back and shoulders, hiding smooth spans of alabaster skin and shifting with every drunken tilt of her head. Septima tipped forward a little, nose tapping against Rabastanâs and hips shifting down against his thighs. There was a coyness in the green depths of her eyes, shining back the window light in a feline and somewhat predatory manner. Calloused fingers skimmed high upon her legs; instinct dictating her body to press into the rare touches.
Her mind was back a decade past, fingers splayed upon heaving chest, the sensation of knees pressed into an unyielding wooden desk. His eyes are the same, bright and blue, wide as they stare up at her with the unfocused glaze of intoxication. One hand combs through his mused dark hair, neatly crested nails scratching lightly along the scalp to rest upon the nap of his neck and mess with the short strands there.
âI might just be amendable to such a thing.â From the corner of her eye she can see the bottle, lips skimming along Rabastanâs cheekbone when she leans over him to pluck it up in slim fingers. Without a hand to hold closed the soft woollen folds of her jumper it falls open to reveal deep burgundy silk. The skin is bare of all marks still, waiting for the touch of fingertips or the soft brush of admiring lips.
Septima tilts the bottle back to take a swig, the rich taste coating her tongue and leaving a sheen upon her lips. She doesnât lick it away. âI did say Iâd share.â Is her murmur, expresstion one of open temptation. Rabastansâ lips are soft and pliable beneath her own when she kisses him, wine still glazing the curve of her bottom lip.
Rabastan found himself leaning up into her, the touch of their noses causing him to hum just a bit in pleasure. His limbs reacted on their own, knowing exactly how to touch and where, how much pressure to use even though all he was doing was holding her waist as she edged into him. Her oh-so-familiar green eyes, dark and gorgeous as always when she had had a drink, bore into his and Rabastan sucked in a soft breath.Â
Heâd grown since their tryst in Hogwarts, since he had been a mere boy of seventeen, but she was still the same mature professor that had won his heart. Septima fit even better into his frame than before - something he had never thought possible with anyone - and she seemed to relish their proximity as much as he did. Her fingers, typically stained with ink and smelling of parchment, eased into his hair and Rab resisted the urge to simply let his head fall back. Some old tricks never failed and the soft scratches on his scalp worked the same wonders it had years past. Suddenly, Rabastan was that seventh year student and he forced himself to stay still as she reached over him to grab at the wine bottle, her wonderfully delicious body bared for his eyes as her sweater opened.
Burgundy. Of all the bloody shades of silk she had to pick to wear the night he visited unannounced, it had to be red. Not bright obnoxious Gryffindor scarlet or the odd red that consumed Muggle traffic lights but the dark wine hue that had been one of the first intimate pieces he had ever seen her wear. The shade of red that complimented her forest eyes just right and forced her skin to a certain paleness that Rabastan had failed miserably in resisting the urge to mark it up before. He was sure to lose to the urge tonight again. His tongue poked out of his mouth as she tilted her head back with the bottle, his bright blue eyes drinking in the sight of her smooth neck and skin. The thirsty gaze she rewards him with fills him with such hunger, heâs wholly consumed by the thought of possessing Septima once more.
âLovely,â He murmured in response, unsure if he was talking of the vision she made on his lap or the prospect of her sharing drink. The kiss started slow, a show of respect to her for starting the intimacy herself as he allowed her to control the pace. The taste of wine filled his senses - as delicious as he knew the vintage to be - and he had an overwhelming urge to drink more, as if she were the source of life and he a dying man. He swiped his tongue out, licking at the last bit of wine from her skin, and the hands on her waist tightened roughly before Rab raised one hand to hold the bottle and used the other one to wrap around her frame and turn them around quickly, taking care to not throw her down unto the cushions like he wanted to. He peered down at Septima, her dark hair framing her wine-flushed face while her legs remained wrapped loosely around his thighs, and felt that stupid punch to his gut he always did when he thought of how he loved her.
âAbsolutely lovely,â He repeated after a moment, voice soft before he took a gulp of wine himself, and then another because he actually really loved it, before putting it on the cluttered table beside them and leaning down to kiss her once more, his left hand braced beside her body as his right reached under and cradled the back of her neck. Rabastan knew very well where this would end up if Septima did not stop this and he prayed that his wishes were granted.*
Where is She?! And My Money, Thanks | Rabastan & Alyssa | Midday July 31, 1978
Alyssa was⊠Unsure. Unsure of what exactly was going on, unsure of what the Lotusâs thoughts of this were, and unsure of what she was to be doing. She had read earlier that day in the Daily Prophet (she was beginning to wonder how they got the information they did so quickly after something had happenedâŠ) about the break in in Gringotts and after a failed attempt to contact Septima had assumed that her mentor was at Gringotts dealing with the current situation. She was Head of the Goblin Liaison Office after all.
And so, on a whim, really, she had headed off to Gringotts, which she was quickly regretting. Her eyes widened at the large crowd gathered in front of Gringotts as she entered Diagon Alley, taking a step back as she took in the panicking and angry witches and wizards. She sighed, her head dropping a bit as she began to make her way to the crowd. At least after she found Septima she could also check her familyâs vault and make sure nothing had been taken, thus deflating two trips into one. Still, it didnât quite make up for having to deal with this crowd.
She scowled as she entered among the fray and was promptly (and accidentally) slammed into by a taller wizard, who muttered a quick apology before moving on. This happened a few times as she tried to find her way through the crowd, keeping her head low and her arms close to her body as she finally got to the door of Gringotts. Why do they all have to make such a large crowd in front of the door? she asked herself as she entered the bank. Her eyes instantly began to dart around, looking for the familiar figure of her mentor among the wix and goblins.Â
Alyssa hadnât gone very far into the bank, choosing instead to stay near the walls and empty areas and search for Septima, when she heard a man very nearly shout (or, at least, she felt it was a near shout) for Septima. She turned her head, staring intently at the man who was harassing the goblin about Septima, her lips pursing as she listened to him. Why did he need to see Septima so badly? Surely he could just ask one of the goblins to bring him to his vault if he wanted to check it? And surely he didnât need to be yelling at the goblins. Personally, she liked the goblins. They were frightening when she was younger, but they were also the best at what they did.Â
Still, if he was asking for Septima, then perhaps she could get into contact with her mentor as well. She walked forward so she was standing a few feet away from the man, listening intently to the largely one-sided conversation. She just needed to find out where Septima was and then Septima could tell her what she was to do and then she wouldnât feel so unsure and confused anymore.
Septima was going to beat him black and blue for this, he was positive. The goblin he had chosen to bark at - one of the few who had not been fending off wixen like the others, who had been instead left alone - was probably only in charge of a few family vaults and had nothing to do with the general public and here Rabastan was offending him. It wasn't as if the goblins themselves had broken into their own vaults as they took pride in their money handling so Rab was being quite uncouth in his approach towards the poor thing. He just wanted the insider from the woman herself and this creature had the misfortune of being his target.Â
"I assure you, Mr..."Â
"Lestrange," Rabastan supplied tartly, inwardly relishing the wince the goblin made as he realized who he was dealing with. Granted, he wasn't Rodolphus, wasn't directly in charge of the estate the majority of the time but he was technically second executioner and currently in use of said title with his brother away. It helped that his family was still so financially connected to France as well as England because it meant that quite the funds were handled through Gringotts but they'd threatened time and time again to leave when things weren't to their liking. Add the fact that Bellatrix Black's vaults and belongings had been added to their family's and it was quite a lump some of capital that the goblin was facing at the moment. Leverage, it was great.
"Mr. Lestrange, apologies. Yes, she is here but surely you simply need to see your vaults to assess that nothing has been taken.â
âI still wish to speak to her,â Rabastan answered, visibly calming as if the answer heâd received was the right one. Of course Sep was there, she lived at the bloody bank more than her own homes. âThere are certain questions I have and I am well aware that she is, in particular, the only person to answer them. Madam Lestrange is over there handling the rest of the business concerning our vault items.â He gestured to where Bellatrix was also exchanging words with a goblin and the one in front of him paled even worse than before. No, nobody actually liked dealing with an irate Bella, that was for sure.
âI-I make no promises, Mr. Lestrange, but I shall see what I can do.â Rabastan was very tempted to simply inform them that Septima would come out upon hearing that it was Rabastan there to see her but he had made enough of a show as it were. Instead, he waited for the goblin to head somewhere inside and then sighed deeply, running a calloused hand through his soft black hair. âMerlin,â he grumbled, âmeeting with Selina is easier than grabbing hold of that woman.â His complaining down for the moment, he shook out his hair and then glanced up, just a bit perturbed as it appeared some young wisp of a thing was watching in his direction. He could only assume it was him since he was the only interesting person there but it wasnât as if he had ever met the young woman before. She looked confused, maybe it wasnât him specifically she was watching, so Rabastan kept silent, opting to remain seemingly impatient as he waited for the goblin. Or Septima. Or both. Though, now that she has caught his attention, the brunette standing curiously a couple of feet away would remain on his mind and he found himself bothered a bit.

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Réservations MinistÚre | Rabastan & Amelia | Midday July 26th, 1978
Ameliaâs eyebrows shot up at his assertion that he was there so she could punish him. He clearly wasnât a prisoner of any sort - even rich, silver-tongued criminals had an escort. And, despite the rumors and his familyâs reputation, Rabastan had never struck her as truly harmful. He was a bit rough around the edges, behavior wise, but he had a good heart. So that couldnât be it⊠Surely he couldnât mean anything else by it. Even he wasnât so brazen as to proposition her here at work, was he?
His next sentence explained everything and she found herself grinning back at him. âThatâs wonderful! What departments are you looking into?â she asked, glancing at her watch. Thirty minutes, his interview would correlate to the end of her lunch break so that made things easy.Â
âIf I know the people youâre interviewing with, I might be able to give you some tips or put a good word in for you,â she offered, leaning her chin into her hand. Sheâd dealt with most departments in some form or fashion, either through her work or her familyâs connections, there werenât many department heads she didnât know well enough to strike up a conversation with. With the possible exception of her own department head, she believed theyâd welcome a referral from her. Moody, of course, wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. But, then, he wanted nothing to do with anyone and she couldnât see Rabastan in the Auror academy, so it was unlikely sheâd have to deal with her cantankerous boss.
Her bright grin at his admission strengthened his own smile, pleased with her excitement. It wasnât every day that your former Head Girl actually wanted to see you work with them after all the detentions she had dealt you but Amelia Bones was one of a kind. The former Hufflepuff turned her complete focus on him and he found himself wishing he were the type to fidget. It wasnât as if he was not used to attention - far from it - it was just that this had never been the sort of thing he pictured himself having to discuss, let alone with someone who wasnât family. Still, she was familiar and friendly and if that didnât mean much in this bloody building, Rabastan didnât know what.
âWell, Iâve already had two,â He said, opening up a cauldron cake on his plate and delicately breaking a piece off as he spoke. âOne was with magical education, who recommended that since Hogwarts was not looking for student teachers or any teachers at the moment, I would do well to apply for a position at Beauxbatons with my dual citizenship or invest in private tutoring.â His blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling as his exasperation at the recommendation returned to him, albeit briefly, before he ate another piece of cake and then went to shuffle through his papers. âAnd after that was a brief discussion with some members from magical creature control but I wasnât trying to in there if I could help it.â Honesty, in this case, would best help him. Magical creatures were not a subject that interested most, if many purebloods at all, and it was luck that had Rabastan sending them an owl in the first place. That, and the possibility of working with a couple of friends but he could not very well deny how unglamorous their departments were. It wasnât his fault he had appearances to keep when they didnât.
âI do have my eyes on the Foreign Affairs and Sports Department as well as Trading Standards and the research committee. I do know some of them already but your advice would be more than helpful.â Rabastan smoothly presented a parchment copy of his resume, the one heâd already owled his interviewers and had brought copies of just in case they decided to play dumb. He knew for someone with no technical job that his accomplishments were more than expected. Working with Septima and Selina on occasion had helped him, but he had also managed to do quite well in making a name for himself with researching things for his brother and Lucius and doing charity work with Narcissa. He could never be a lobbyist but fuck if he didnât know how to do it. It was just wanting to do whatever it was was put in front of him was the trouble.
Witch What?| Doe and Rab | August 14, 1978
It had ben some time since Rabastan had gone to visit Fabian's home. Both Dorcas and Fabian had the keys to their best friendâs place - times like these ensured that precautions needed to be taken and just in case Molly was to head over with the kids while Fab was at work Rab could get there easily and remove any illegal paraphernalia. Younger than her twin brothers or not, Molly Prewett- erm, Weasley - was a force to be reckoned with and Rabastan had had the good fortune to not have been caught doing horrible things with Fabian and was still in her relative good graces; if good terms meant not getting hexed upon sight for corrupting Fabian or Gideon.
This Monday. however, Rabastan was not headed over to the flat to hide suspicious items from said sister or her growing brood of sticky hands but simply to visit and hopefully get incredibly drunk and high with his friend. The gnawing in his heart over his brotherâs absence had grown while he hadnât been paying attention and though Bellatrix and Cissa always provided distraction and pleasant company, he found himself missing the reckless type of behavior that Luce could not provide. He was to meet with the blond later for a proper night in but with so much time between breakfast and then, a visit to his other favorite male companion was in order. Rabastan made a mental note to send owls to his younger cousins, both Regulus and Evan, and set time to meet with them. It wasnât as if he was lacking for it and he still had to talk to Reg about some things.
He keyed the door carefully, quiet after apparating a block away had sounded so bloody loud, and edged his way in, the wards allowing him through like water. The former Slytherin had thought of surprising Fabian with a bucket of water or something more pleasurable but the idea was dashed away by the sight of someone sitting in the sofa ahead, their back to him. He would have been alarmed if he hadnât recognized the bag on the table. With a smirk, he closed the door behind him with a soft snick and peered over the young witchâs shoulder.
âIs that my Witch Weekly shoot from last month, Doe?â He asked innocently, his gaze caught of the nearly obscene moving pictures on the pages. With summer around, they had asked him to do a bathing suit advertisement and had requested a small bio to go with it, an âeligible bachelors of summerâ sort of deal. That Dorcas was currently holding said issue in her hands was just as surprising as it was amusing but knowing his luck, she had probably just found it in here because Fab was the type to buy Rabâs obnoxious photos and tease him mercilessly over them. It wasnât his fault that he and Cissa were very good at what they did and got such requests.