#rabastan 002

“You just can’t beat the Bats’ beating team,” Brenton mused, looking down at the Quidditch players as they flew onto the pitch for the start of the game. “I mean her, well, it’s obvious.” He held his hands in front of his chest in a large cupping action. “But then you would think he’s not much to look at but I saw him with his top off the one time after they’d played against Luci and he’s so fucking hot.” He enunciated each word carefully, leaning into Rabastan as he said them, hoping he might be able to draw a reaction from his companion.

Cleaning the shop up after a long day is one of her least favorite parts of owning a shop. Sure, it’s nice to have the place to herself, and to review everything and make sure it’s in its rightful place, but after a tough day, she can’t think of anything less appealing. Still, she goes into the supply closet and grabs a broom to start sweeping up with. 

She’s not really expecting anyone, so when the lights flicker twice to alert her to someone new coming into the shop, she sighs heavily. “We’re closed!” she calls, waiting for the lights to flicker again to show the door’s opened once more. When nothing happens, she sighs again and walks back out of the supply closet, fully prepared to whack the intruder with the broom. “We’re closed.”

But it’s not a stranger, it’s Rabastan, a still uninvited but not unwelcome presence in the shop. She puts the broom down. “Ah, it’s you. I thought you were a thief.”

It was hard to believe that half a year had passed. The Winter Solstice had marked the beginning of some dark times in Melaina’s life with the arrest of her father and subsequent interrogations of her son. Work had become a difficult place to be for the first time in her life and when she went home she was the primary caregiver to a three year old. And, all the while, she was still doing work that her stomach was not quite strong enough for. Brewing Polyjuice with Barty Crouch was one thing but helping to poison a traitor, while important and necessary work, had put a strain on her. She couldn’t remember being this stressed since the day she realised that she was pregnant with Theodore, and all the implications which had come with the fact. To top it all, with nobody at home most of the day to make sure her cat wasn’t wandering too far into the village, she ended up having a litter of kittens.

Knelt on the grass without a care for her no-longer pristine dress, Melaina had done her best to patch Rabastan up before his eyes came back into focus but it was too soon and she knew it would still be incredibly painful. Her head ached, like the adrenaline of moments ago had burnt off all the champagne she had drunk and left her with a hangover and a feeling of nausea. “Hey, are you with me?” she said softly, wand moving unsteadily over his chest, assessing the damage to his ribs. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay, you hear me? I know it hurts, but I’m going to need you to let me know if you can speak.”