#fauxlestrange

A long time ago, they used to be friends. Despite the fact that she was a Slytherin and he was a Hufflepuff, the two had gotten along well until fifth year when all of Hogwarts learned she had been lying the entire time; that she was the very thing all her friends despised, including Rabastan. She doubted even a time clash could help them go back. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t know that lapdogs traveled through time as well.”

“Overreacting? How can I be overreacting? I died.” Evan fell back into the cushions of the second home he was now forced into because his son was afraid he would ‘murder his wife and children’ and therefore couldn’t hang out there. As if he would ever kill his grandchildren. “Bloody hell, we need to fix this Rab. My reputation is in shambles. My son is married to a mudblood. My daughter is friends with that mudblood. Did the Rosiers go mad without me?”

Emma’s relationship with Rabastan was complicated to say the least; her mother could never seemed to decide if he was an appropriate match for her (that was how she viewed any men Emma spent time with; as potential matches). Sure, he was a Lestrange, but he was also the second son and not even of the actual bloodline. Emma, however, just saw him as soft, intelligent as well. Spending time with him was a bit like a warm blanket. “Rabastan Lestrange, I know you are not going to leave before getting a quick bite to eat with your noona.”

Rowan was not used to looking where he was going; usually people dodged out of his way, his resting face looking a bit too murderous for most sensibilities; he would blame the Rosier family traits, except he was pretty sure neither his dad or his aunt Edeline had the same expression; it was clearly just him. “Sorry,” he said, gruffly as his shoulder made contact with someone else’s. His eyes caught theirs.