r.a. lestrange

@narcissawhite

I’m not usually this bad, it’s just today. You know. Big court case, whole day of trying to stop people from sneaking into the courtroom to listen in. [ they shake their head ] Again, long day. 

He gave a nod, not quite empathetic but somewhere in the region of understanding. “And I suppose your magic is for some reason not working? You do remember the Accio spell you would have learned in your second year of school, no?” And maybe that was a little mean of him, but he was more incredulous than cruel, more taken aback than venomous. It was difficult to imagine being so flustered that he would forget his own magical ability.

“Have there been any developments with the case, then?” He changed the subject, in the end, deciding that gleaning a little bit of extra information about this infamous case was far more entertaining than discussing their forgetfulness.

She watches him with amusement, shaking her head at his question. “Some kid, they were crawling around under the tables causing trouble. They’re gone now, though, before you launch yourself into a murder spree.”

He was quiet for a moment, as the flash of anger passed through him, and he settled himself. Rabastan smoothed down his robes and settled his gaze on Agnes again,  “Thank you for your helpfulness, I’m sure it would have been impossible for you to have prevented it from happening, seeing as you were so calmly watching some child crawling around like a fool.” He quipped, more than a little irritated by the idea of her finding this amusing. Perhaps he took himself too seriously sometimes, but he went to great lengths to uphold a very particular image of himself, and some child making him seem an idiot was most certainly not part of that image.

Yeah, and I don’t know why you’re looking for him, I don’t like you, so why would I tell you anything about where he is? I doubt they’d tell you either if you’re skulking around trying to find him.

“I’m charmed by your idea of me, Lupin, do you really suppose that I’m up to no good? Me, a respectable Ministry official, up to no good?” His tone was mock-offended but icy. He didn’t care for how personally it seemed that the other man was taking this - he could never understand why the four men -boys, more like- would act as if the business of one was the business of all of them. He would perhaps pull that kind of stunt with his own brother, but blood and friendship were not remotely similar. There was not the same kind of obligation, the same kind of debt of loyalty to be paid.

“Must you insist on being so juvenile about this?”

Amelia wasn’t sure if the man was genuinely asking or just wanting to annoy her. To tell the truth, there wasn’t any emergency, because she always made sure to leave her house with antecedence in case something unexpected happened. But obviously, she wouldn’t tell him that, because she needed coffee and food and he was in her way and if Amelia was l'essentiel polite she would already had exed him to the other side of the room. She was annoyed, and couldn’t keep herself from saying,

“Is it any of your business ?”

Narcissa was quiet while he thought, Rabastan was sometimes a hard person to converse with. He was often very quiet in their conversations, though she could tell he didn’t mind conversing with her as much as he did some other people. He opened up to her, in his Rabastan way. She narrowed her eyes, not in a suspicious way… well, sort of in a suspicious way. Obligations. It sounded like something that Lucius might say. She hoped to hear more, but thought better of twisting his arm. 

She took another sip of her drink, wincing as the liquor burned her throat. It did warm her, though, and dulled the strains of anxieties running through her mind. With almost anyone else she would bite her tongue, keep her troubles to herself or dull them. Instead, she raised her chin, setting an example for him of what it meant to open up. “I cannot find peace about the engagement. And I so wish to. I want nothing more than to be perfectly happy and ready to start my life. And a few months ago I believe I would have been overjoyed to be in the position I am. Now, my feelings change on the hour, and my stomach refuses to settle.” She looks away from his gaze, down to her drink, and swirls it. “I just keep myself up at night, worrying that I am misstepping. So weary is quite the right word if it isn’t exhaustion.”

He received no real reply to his words, though he could feel her unasked questions hanging thick in the air between them, feel her curiosity unsatisfied, her concern not quite relieved. His grip tightened around the glass and he took another sip before speaking again. Perhaps it was her own openness that pushed him to continue, or the look in her eyes, or the knowledge that his words would not leave this table. Regardless, he found himself speaking, whether or not it was an intelligent idea. “I... As you are surely well aware, I have many duties in work, and outside of the workplace, as I am sure you are well acquainted with, what with Lucius being such a prominent figure in your life.” He was toying with his words and he knew it, prolonging the inevitable with more words than necessary, talking circles around a matter he felt he would spill anyway -why, Lestrange, this isn’t necessary, shut up, shut up shutupshutupshutu- “There is a cost to loyalty. And occasionally you must perform tasks you are not proud of to secure that loyalty, to secure a future for those you care about.” The tension between Death Eaters and the Order was thickening by the day, and while he had no pride in the dirty guerilla tactics they were sometimes forced to employ, he was prepared to do what he had to do. Rabastan was a small part of something larger, something living and breathing and growing, and merely being a part of it begged repayment. He was a man of his word, and repayment was not something he was about to evade. 

There was a sour taste in his mouth as Narcissa shared her worries. They so scarily mimicked his own months previous, before his own betrothal had fallen apart for the same reasons -but Cissa is stronger than you, she will not fail to honour this engagement- and for a few moments he wasn’t quite sure what to say, choosing his wording carefully for fear of worrying her further. “It is a difficult thing to dedicate oneself to, a life with another. Particularly if it is not someone of our own selection.” He watched the condensation drip from his glass to the table, drop by drop.  “Is he good to you, Malfoy? Does he treat you well?”

“Anyone who needs more than two hours of sleep is weak,” Gilbert decided, matching Rabastan’s calm, icy composure with their trademark toothy grin. They never understood how Rabastan could be so restrained and always in control, but they admired him, even if they could never emulate him. 

Taking out their wand, Gilbert had no such reservations about using duelling spells in public. They went all out, locking eyes with Rabastan as they flicked their wand in his direction, waiting to see if the man would find himself suspended in mid-air. 

“Tell me that again in three years when you’ve been in the real world a while longer, Gamp.” He quipped in reply, though there was an amused gleam in his eyes. While Gilbert was more akin to a stray puppy or needy toddler than anything, he had grown somewhat affectionate of the boy, and a little part of him, as much as he would refuse to admit it, was glad that it was he that got to keep him in check, keep his skills sharp and his toes behind the line.

“I don't ever think about death It's alright if you do, it's fine We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes.”

Lestrange. It echoes the French phrase l'étrange: the strange one. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, blood rich with dark magic and old wealth flowing through their veins. Bound by loyalty that was more obligation than love, a pact that held them to ancient ideals and lacking morals; to upkeep of their kind, and an assurance that they may hold their pedestal over a sea of the less worthy. Chandeliers hang above their heads, heavy with sin, and blood stains their white-gloved hands. 

She closes her eyes, shaking her head, “Forgive me, I have a lot on my mind. That’s right.” She turns to the bartender, ordering herself a whiskey and his seltzer. She knew of Rabastan’s alcoholism, of course, and chastises herself for her forgetfulness. With a drink in each hand she leads them to a booth in the corner, where she slides into the worn wooden bench, crossing her legs. She slides him his glass, taking a sip of her own drink, only a small one that barely coats her lips in the strong liquor. She takes a deep breath. And then another. Finally, she looks at her brother in law, and gives him a tired smile. “Tell me how you are. Every detail.”

He smiled as if to reassure her that it wasn’t a big deal to forget, Merlin knows he’s nearly slipped up himself countless times - though usually for weakness rather than forgetfulness -, and accepts the drink with a grateful nod. Sliding into the booth, he set his briefcase down on the floor between his feet, as though guarding it. It was one of the few things he never let out of his sight, regardless of where he was or who he was with.  His drink was fragrant, sweet but not sickly so, and the soft prickle of carbonation was soothing if anything. He took a sip before replying, ignoring the way Narcissa’s question made his nerves curl, made his stomach feel uneasy. The concept of opening up, of laying his raw self on the table between them... It was terrifying, though with Narcissa he allowed it to be a piecewise process; one taste of honesty now, and another in a week, and slowly she was one of the few people gathering a real insight to his life. Narcissa and Antonin, perhaps the only two he was ready to admit anything to - and even then, even then he wasn’t always able to. When you spend so long tying away loose ends, the knots can be too tight to pick apart. “I am fairly well, thank you. Work is... Well, it’s harder than it has been in a long time, and obligations can be trying. Though some duties simply need to be done.” Oblgiations. There were a number of things he meant by that, and hoped she would realise what he was indicating.  “And you? Tell me Cissa, what has you so weary?”

Asking these sorts of questions was so much easier than answering them.

“Keep telling that yourself and maybe it’ll become reality.” He responded, the ghost of a chuckle on his lips. “But, to be fair, that’s also a working theory.”

“Hey,” He raised his hand in a jesting warning, “at least you have parents that don’t want you to work yourself to death. Be thankful.” Antonin’s grin had widened. “Also, just to be clear, I’m not half as bad as Flora.”

“I suppose I’ll have to gather more evidence before I can make a conclusion, so.” He winked at Antonin, humour scrawled across his expression.