SERPENT'S HEAD

People said that the House of Black thought of themselves as royalty. People often sounded bitter when they said that. Because it was true. Whether they liked it or not, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was royalty in the Wizarding World. And there were but a handful of families that were on the same level as them. No, it wasn’t the Sacred Twenty-Eight, for even amongst those of the purer blood and legacy, there was those that were better than others. But the Lestranges certainly were on par with Narcissa’s family. Narcissa now knew, or at least inferred as they all did, that an alliance between he families had been set in motion before any of them -and by them she meant those that would have to live through the fruits or fallout of such alliance- could’ve even dream of having an opinion. Narcissa was glad that they were now family, Rodolphus had always been someone she admired, looked up to, and while she wasn’t as close to Rabastan, she knew that Emma (who was like a sister to her) was fond of him, and that was more than enough for her.

The room was slowly filling up with people, a mix of those loyal to one another, loyal to their Dark Lord, and those wanting to be on the good graces of those in attendance. Rodolphus was there, and Bella had yet to show up, but these people were her people. The one fighting for her future. ❝Sister, it’s just me and Bella now❞ Narcissa corrected him with a perfect smile, even if every night she wondered how different her life would’ve been if Andromeda had not left. Even if she would give anything to see her sister again. But this was Rabastan Lestrange, and they were surrounded by people who hated traitors and mudbloods, Narcissa could not risk any of them thinking she still had any love left for Andy. ❝Bella is… well she is Bella. There’s no one like her❞ she smiled looking around the room for the wild mane of pitch black curls, ❝I am where I am because of her. I might never be like her, because I don’t think she would want me to… but she’s always going to be my big sister…❞ much like Andromeda. ❝You?❞ she asked, ❝look up to Rod?❞ she asked with a much more sincere smile, her love for Rodolphus clear in the way she said his name.

To see the Black’s fall out of favor within the Ministry and among the Dark Lord really got Rabastan to think about the fragile lives some Purebloods lived. If they didn’t side with the Dark Lord, they certainly didn’t side with him and the Lestrange’s. If Orion continued on his path, Regulus remained unsure and Sirius followed his path of false hope, then the Black family was done for. The only light in all of this remained Narcissa, the only one who seemed sane enough to understand war and its casualties, how important this year would be for all of them -- and how much she could benefit from it. “Of course. Sister,” he corrected himself. Oh, right -- Andromeda Tonks, a disgrace, just another stain on their long line of pureblood tradition. At this point Rabastan believed Narcissa carried her whole family on her fragile back, keeping them from destruction with just an elegant smile and a pretty face. “I’m glad you two are completely different. She certainly has a hint of madness lingering in her eyes, which she’s unable to get rid of.” 

Her question, however, was promptly responded with a forced smile. “I don’t look up to him, I consider him an equal. Big brother or not, Minister or not -- I won’t make myself smaller to honor our elders. He deserves a brother who stands next to him, who fights with him. I once did, yes,” he tensed his jaw. “But such devotion demands sacrifice -- and I am not going to do that. For no one.”

rabxstanlestrange:

He wasn’t surprised that Rabastan had gotten straight to the point, though he didn’t know exactly what he was expecting of him. Did he know more than he let on and simply want him to own up to it, or was he as in the dark as Regulus hoped he was? Being pointed at made him feel uncomfortable, and though it was a finger and not a wand, he couldn’t help but feel like there was some hidden threat in the motion, “My intentions?” He’d asked, letting Rabastan continue on, explaining the hierarchy that Regulus was well aware of, “At the moment my intentions are to graduate at the top of my class. War is not yet any of my business. I can’t say I’ve given it very much personal thought.” He lied, though it was truly a believable one. Rabastan had no reason to know or believe that Regulus had taken the mark a long time ago, not when so many others had waited much longer than he had. “This summer I’ll obviously have to give it much more thought, but for the time being my focus is my education. War is no reason to give up on that when I’m protected the way that I am.”

The optimism that built up Natalie’s mere existence had faded within the last three years. All pieces of her that had once been so filled with life and vibrancy had disappeared when her brother did. Mystery still covered his death, whatever details were known being disclosed from Natalie for whatever reason, things she had come to live with despite the bitterness she felt. Thinking of him in times like these always made her question what he would think, if he saw her now. A Death Eater, someone who had lost all feeling and every ability to be who Declan had known her to be. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the thoughts were there. She forced herself to believe he’d be proud, whether or not it was true. “I’ve spent my life being seen as nothing but the bright and shiny daughter of my father. And I was in the least suspicious house of them all. Nobody expects me to be involved with the Cause, people see me and they let things slip. Getting people talking is a gift of mine. And I’m the family apprentice. I know things.” She offered, eyes widening slightly, but quickly reverting. “Teach me– it’s something I’ll need to know.  Please.” The final word, added in an afterthought. But it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much she changed.

Although Rabastan wasn’t really one to support others and boost their morality and skills, he was awfully good at picking people who really needed one. Seeing Natalie like this, eager to learn, warmed his cold, pitch black heart, and she felt almost like a sister to him, one he would’ve protected, no matter what. “Believe me you’re not the only one with this mindset. I can’t speak from experience, I never will, but I do quite a few witches who feel just like you. It’s a death sentence, but I’m here to turn you into the executioner,” he looked at her, stern and almost angry, but his features relaxed and he even smiled for a short while to reassure his good mood. “Be my apprentice. I don’t judge strength and worth on gender. My fiancée is one of the most brilliant Death Eaters I know,” he nodded once. “Look. There’s a few rules you’d have to live by: first: do not question my choices. second: be prepared for the worst -- you might die any second. third: this is war, be aware of who you are and what you want, only then you’re not a soldier anymore, but your own master. Understood? No,” he stopped and grabbed her chin “second-guessing.”

Dark hues flickered almost on reflex around the wide space she had met him in. Natalie was no stranger to the Ministry, having been involved not only in attacks but several visits in the name of her family. It was the responsibility that came with being the face of the Dupont name; she had to be public. Not that she minded, really, attention was something that the brunette had always thrived under. Still, when a Lestrange came calling, she couldn’t help the small buzz of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Drawing in as discreet of a deep breath she could, Natalie turned her focus back toward Rabstan. It took every ounce of control she had not to revert to her embarrassingly easily-surprised ways at the words he was saying. “I can assure you, I am not afraid – if it needs to be done for the sake of the Cause, then I am more than willing.” If Declan could hear her, she loathed to think of what he would say…but she couldn’t think of this now. “It would be a true honor, doing more. I’m more prepared should the Dark Lord wish me to be.”

He wanted Natalie to participate in the Dark Lord’s great scheme, to be taught how to deal with stress and difficulties in battle. Surely in his twenty years he had yet to learn so much more about literally everything, but he was proud to be an excellent duelist. “I never doubted you in that,” he stated, implying he might’ve done so with others things, but he didn’t specify which ones. He turned his gaze to her every now and then, smiled almost softly towards her, which was uncommon for him -- an almost non-existent facial expression of him. “I believe he wants you to fight. Do you have any special talents? Anything he might use? If not, then I’m sure he’ll find something -- or I will.” he suddenly stopped and looked around. The city had gone awfully quiet and not many were looking towards them -- his brother was probably around here somewhere. “I can teach you how to kill -- how to silently kill, too. If you want me to, that is. Being a murderer is another kind of evil I’m not sure you’re prepared for at the moment. I don’t want you to jump into situations you can’t handle too soon and too often. I want to protect you, after all. I mean it.”

Even in the midst of a brewing war you needed a night off. Sybill spent her nights staring into the future any way she could, seeing out the probability of various strategies for Aversio, smoking, singing to trees, all between fitful bouts of vision filled sleep. But not tonight. Tonight she put on a pretty dress and drifted to The Leaky Cauldron to drink whiskey and see who else was about. She must’ve walked through a patch of bad luck, because Rabastan Lestrange seemed to be the only face she recognized. His face and all that dark, chaotic energy that he wore about him like a cloak. She gestured to the bartender and slid her money across the counter, sighing. “Partying of future reading?” She asked, tilting her body just a little to face him “either way it’s almost impossible to outlaw such a thing.”

He just couldn’t help himself -- he saw in her nothing but a lunatic. And yet he approached her with a grin on his face, as if he wanted to challenge her. Sadly this wasn’t the right place nor the right time to start a fight. “Reading someone’s future can be seen as a service, which means you’re currently working, therefore you must first ask permission to practice this kind of magic. My brother’s forgiving, however, so don’t worry. I will grant you your freedom myself,” he smiled, clearly unable to stop himself from laughing afterwards. “I’m just kidding. No one cares for this kind of magic. I always considered it as magic for the hopeless,” he didn’t raise his voice nor looked aggressive in any way -- in fact he was sure she’d soon start to pester him. “Well, as Minister you can outlaw everything you want to -- if you know the right men to support that.”

Kreacher had had good reason in begging Rabastan to quiet down. The house was quiet for a reason. Regulus was the only one home at the moment, and he’d fallen asleep a little over an hour ago after staying up all night with his books. He hadn’t been a heavy sleeper at any point in his life, but that had become even farther from the truth lately, Rabastan’s voice immediately pulling him back into wakefulness. He was only thankful that he’d begun keeping a few bottles of pepper-up potion at his desk, quickly drinking one before leaving his room, taking the stairs as quickly as he could. “Has something happened, Rabastan?” It was an easy assumption. He could only assume that he wasn’t here for some kind of social call, which left only business of some sort, either that or someone had sent him, and he wasn’t sure which was more likely. “What brings you here?”

In the midst of war, Rabastan had to make sure his alliances weren’t just facades, would fade once they saw a better opportunity to gain power. The Black’s has always been keeping to themselves, or so Rabastan thought. Rabastan wouldn’t ask Orion for support, but maybe his son would be more willing to align with their ideals and reign. “War,” he answered shortly to get straight to the point. “What are your intentions? We’re almost the same age, so I thought I could just go ahead and ask whose side are you on? Because my brother works for the Dark Lord, I work for me brother.” he created a ladder-like shape with his hands. “And so on, and so on. But you?” he pointed towards Regulus. “Are somewhere -- and I need to know where exactly. Do you serve the Dark Lord, and therefore us, or not?”

They might not be long, Rabastan might be problematic to the max or simply a confused puppy. Rabastan, as the Minister’s younger brother, is definitely revealed to be a Death Eater, so please keep that in mind (so most interactions will have some tension in it). General plot ideas might vary from sexual tension to some killer fun, ya know? The great stuff.

d&d alignments: CHAOTIC EVIL [9/9]

The brunette truly couldn’t help herself from rolling her eyes at Rab’s words. Truly, they had spend so many years of their lifes together and sometimes she just wondered how she had managed to ignore the constant slightly condescending undertone in his words. She usually just ignored it, knowing that telling a boy of his upbringing that his opinion might not always be the holy grail was probably pointless. At some point along her life she had probably just stopped really hearing it, since she was used to everyone around her thinking they knew exactly how she should behave, it came with the last name or, in this case, the friendship. “Since fate is just something tiny men with giant egos made up in order to feel better about themselves I’m just going to ignore what you just said.” The smile on her face definitely didn’t reach her eyes as she wondered once more why she was staying in a world with such narrow perspectives. However right now wasn’t really the time for contemplaiting, especially not with Rab so close. “I know exactly what I want, Lestrange. Only because it’s not what other people seem to envision for me it’s not less legitimate. Not everybody cares for fucking pointless things such as money or power.” 

She did truly try her best not to get annoyed at him but he made it basically impossible with his next words. He truly didn’t know her as well as he thought if he had the impression that either her twin or The Dark Lord were calling the shots in her life or he wanted to accomplish just that, to annoy her. Twirling one strand of her around her finger she whirled around on her heels and let a small giggle escape her lips. “Yes, I’m so very lucky to have so many highly intelligent and clear minded men around me to keep my absolutely irrational and idiotic behavior at bay.” She replied with a soft smile, which stood in hard contrast to the dangerous gleam in her eyes. Then she turned around again, scanning the room. “I really need a fucking drink if you want me to keep up with your egomaniac bullshit talk any longer.” 

He’d always seen Alecto as a reckless and fiery woman, even as children. For some odd reason he couldn’t remember her ever being sweet -- no, she always had an attitude, one that didn’t lure people closer towards her, but made them fear her -- in a good way, Rabastan thought. In the end he considered the old generation, ergo their parents, to be dead weight. His were already ashes, so he remained true to his dreams, actually executed them while others were probably either too foolish or too scared to start. Some people were just meant to dream their life -- Rabastan intended to live it. “And what do you care for, mh? Fun? Making people afraid of you so they’ll quiver in front of you?” He squinted, unsure what to make of her right now. They were obviously disagreeing on many things, but he could  never hate or disapprove of her decisions that easily. He’d always love her. “You will have your reasons, Carrow -- I will have mine. I suggest you remain wise in this war and not stay too focused on today -- think for tomorrow as well. That’s my way of saying “watch your bloody back, Carrow” -- got it?” his words were more harsh than usual, but he simply didn’t want her to die because of a foolish mistake. “We burn down cities and entire families. We have no feeling for what’s right or wrong -- but there’s still a threat, even if we’re on top.”

“You know,” he hissed “you know you’re irrational and bloody stupid sometimes, almost all the time. You’re like me,” he finally confessed. His eyes were icy blue and clearly visible in contrast to his black hair -- they’d been brighter than before after his pupils constricted out of pure force. “Why,” he began, moving towards her and taking her face between his hands. “can’t you understand I’m only worried about you? If you think I’m here to pester you, then I’d suggest you pour yourself a big glass of firewhiskey, because I’m not leaving.” He pushed his fingers under her hair, right towards the neck and pushed her closer. He’d kissed her on the forehead, kissed her longer than he’d wanted to at first, but he couldn’t help it. 

Kingsley didn’t budge at the taunts from the Death Eater. Sure he wanted to. Kingsley wanted nothing more than to pull out his wand and show that terrorist who really was in charge here. Who truly had the power. Having power also meant knowing when to use it. Right now, Kingsley needed to try and diffuse this situation before it escalated any farther. “Stop this now!” Kingsley demanded from the other man, but it didn’t seem to do any good. He moved to block the spell, but missed it slightly and was blasted back a few feet from the Death Eater. His Auror skills kicking in, Kingsley quickly got to his feet and charged the other man. If he wanted a fight, well then a fight was exactly what he was going to get. Kingsley’s instincts kicked in. That anger he’d been bottling up and holding back while he put his leadership first started to bubble over and spill out. He never expected to take his anger out on another person, or have this chance. “Colloshoo!” Kingsley countered, hoping that the spell would stick.

Rabastan felt invincible, considered himself on top of the food chain, capable of destroying entire cities if he wanted to. And he actively tried to. Maybe the Dark Lord would award his actions, look towards him without seeing the younger, less sane version of his older brother. This rage, contained in him, deep within him, got set free in moments like this. “Stop what?” he taunted, again and again. With a smirk, an invisible one because of the mask, he moved closer, his wand not at all loosely dangling in his hand, but definitely gripped tightly to be prepared for any attack. Yes, he was reckless -- but not dumb. And yet, he could feel his feet getting stuck to the ground, forcing him to stare at Kingsley through his mask without getting one step closer. Luckily his hands were still free. He thought about taunting him yet again -- or simply talk to him as if they could so easily forget fighting for once second and discuss their differences. Maybe others would, but he didn’t. Spell after spell he continued to pester Kingsley, but the last one was much more sinister “Crucio.”