#rabastanlestrange

Tears pricked at Narcissa’s blue eyes and she had to quickly turn away to hide her face before they fell down her face. “Please don’t...” She whispered, unable to look at him. “You’re the one who ended things Rabastan, not me.” Her voice was choke up with emotion. How could he say such things to her, after he was the one who turned her away, told her to go to Lucius when she told him how she felt. She was just beginning to be able to be in the same room as him without feeling like she would fall apart and then he says things like this. “I’m getting married in a few weeks because you told me too, please don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Lucius felt his stomach tighten when he approached the younger Lestrange. Rabastan scared him more than Walden McNair did, but he needed to speak to the other man and it couldn’t wait. Not when Lucius was in such desperate need, and he knew Lestrange could do what he asked. 

“Lestrange,” he greeted, though his gaze darted slightly past Rabastan when he saw Narcissa dart through the crowd, practically glowing. His beautiful wife. The light of his life. The best thing to ever happen to him. He would do anything to protect her. To protect the life they were building together. “I don’t suppose you’ve tarot cards hidden in that kilt of yours?”

Alongside your knives, he didn’t say, though he knew there would certainly be plenty. 

“I’m sorry to pull you away from the dancing but- well. I’ve a favor to ask you, and I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

Rodolphus woke with a shiver, a chill creeping down his spine like skeletal fingers as he blinked awake in the dark. Someone had gotten through his wards. 

Normally this would be a cause for concern, but Rodolphus was fairly sure that his home wasn’t being invaded. Nevertheless he grabbed his wand as he rolled out of bed and grabbed a robe, careful not to disturb Bella where she slept beside him. Muttering “Lumos,” he crept through the hall and down the stairs, checking the integrity of the wards as he went, tracing the little alert in the back of his mind that drew him towards the kitchen. 

He found Rabastan halfway through a yogurt, La Belle Madonna curled up on his lap and purring so loudly that Rodolphus could hear her from across the room. He wondered if she could smell her kitten on him, wondered if Squash had gotten any bigger or would be permanently small the same way she seemed permanently deformed. 

Pouring himself a glass of water and turning on the dim lights- he didn’t feel like blinding himself, thank you- he leaned against the counter and looked at his brother. He was too tired to put on his manners.

“How long did it take you to get in this time?” he asked.

“It’s cold in my room.” She whispered as she crawled into Rabastan’s bed. It was a lie and they both knew it, the Lestranges had put the Black Family up in their finest rooms for their visit. Narcissa’s room was actually quite lovely, but she couldn’t resist sneaking across the hall to Rab, not when he was so close. “Is this alright?” She asked once she was under his covers, so close to him that their noses were bumping up against each other. His sheets smelled like his all too familiar sent, and she wished she could bottle it up and wear it like a perfume. 

Bastille, 

Every year you insist this day passes by in obscurity, and every day I refuse to allow it. This year will be like every other, and you will allow me to express in plainest terms how grateful I am that God delivered you unto our family.

Joyeux anniversaire, mon loup. 

The enclosed gifts are non-negotiable, and if I find they have been refused or destroyed, I will simply send you more.

ton frère fidèle,

Rodolphus

The enclosed packages contain a new set of dressrobes, tailored precisely to Rabastan’s measurement and style, a clear rebuke of the fact that he seems to think Hawaiian shirts are appropriate formal wear. There is also a medal of St. Michael on a silver chain.