r-lestrcnge

[r-lestrcnge]

He held her stare as she spoke, noting the familiar, devilish glint that had risen in her eyes' depths. He had no inclination to turn away from her wickedness. It enthralled him. But he did not expect the shameless salacity that poured snake-like from her lithe lips. They did not speak to each other in such a way. He remained impassive, the cut of his eyes pinching as he sharply answered, though his mind was thrown unexpectedly to a moment forgotten until now; a rage-filled instant, pressed against the harsh wood of a ramshackle building, lust swirling between them as they prepared for violence. "I'd have thought you more likely to bite off the appendage than to pleasure it, Alecto."

He dryly laughed, a darkly humoured sound. He could not imagine Alecto submitting to any man. She would sooner shred her husband to pieces. Just as he was about to reach for the tray, she bit into the cake. The moan, while light, caused him the shortest pause. Nothing she did was accidental. This, combined with her unusual comment, was a suspicious revelation. One of her ploys. He had dismissed the almost-kiss, both too unwell to consider it and judging it to have been nothing more than an anomaly. Now, he sensed her rekindling it, and as he looked at her with studious calm, he considered whether he would take the bait and play her game. He couldn't deny what he'd felt and he would not be against exploring it further. But not at the expense of their relationship. He valued her too much for that.

"I feel greatly improved," he agreed. Then withdrawing his piercing stare, he retrieved one of the potions from the tray and sat back to drink it. "They have. But this lingering curse is becoming very tedious. I cannot sit here doing nothing for much longer. You must tell me how you were injured."

It took a deep breath, abundant restraint, and a stoic expression written on her features to keep from exposing that the sight of him dressed like that rendered her into oblivion. This was her own timely undoing, her own demise, still Alecto would travel the same path. Despite the new developing feelings, Rabastan still brought that same mode of peacefulness. Denying herself that, would surely be her undoing, opposite of what she required for her healing.

"Tsk, Rabastan." She tuts at him,. "Let me practice my future wife skills." The corner of her mouth twitches into a sly smirk, devious hazel hues zero in on his. "A good wife would also be down on her knees for her husband, relieving built up tension. Would you not agree?" The words uttered before fully processing what spilled from her lips, her years of maintaining an icy demeanour proved in her favour. It was her eyes that gave away her true intent, the flame of greed enveloping them.

A head shakes softly at the smile adorning his features, fingers plucking up one of the Madeleine's in question. "It seems that each day two dozen are brought from a little bakery." The brunette hums, sinking her teeth into the sponge soft cookie, a faint moan escaping, consumed by how delicious the pastry tasted. "Tart, something." The bakery held no importance to the witch to concern in knowing the full name of the shop.

"You are looking better." Alecto points out, refraining from letting her eyes wander over him, afraid of what else she might confess. Cursing herself inwardly for even letting the idea of wishing to worship at his alter cross her mind. Enough. If anything, he would worship at hers; as he should. "Have your visits faired well?"

#thread;alecto #alecto;4

[r-lestrcnge]

Rabastan had arranged for Emma to floo directly into his part of the house. His rooms were contained to a single wing of the vast building, which loomed imposingly upon the landscape. Its interior was as dark as the spells that lay heavily upon it, full of solid wood and luxurious leather. Not a single wall was bare. Portraits, tapestries or books adorned each one, filling the space in a flagrant display of opulence. Nothing here would ever belong to Rabastan; it would all go to Rodolphus. But he loved it nonetheless. No other place was truly home. Not even the house he had brought for himself upon moving out of the family estate.

Hearing Emma calling from a small foyer, he made his way to her and thanked her for coming. "You look well, Emma. Come this way, and would you like a drink?" Pressing a palm against a carved wooden door, he opened it, leading the way into his study. The room was something of a time warp. He had left many things behind when moving out, and nothing had been removed. Old school textbooks lined a bookshelf, a few - now vintage - copies of Quidditch Weekly were stacked onto a desk. Rolled into a large scroll was the one poster that he had dared to fix to a portrait of his grandfather at the age of seventeen; it had somehow burned and peeled away within seconds. As he watched Emma wander in, he considered, with some amusement, that there were probably some letters from her tucked into a drawer somewhere.

Still feeling unwell, he sat down and didn't attempt to appear more composed. He lacked the energy for such effort, preferring instead to allow the curse to run its course without resistance. His pallor left a lot to be desired, his mind vaguely distracted. But he motioned for her to sit beside him.

"Here's what we will do. You must tell your parents that I have had an accident, and suggest that a Curse-Breaker is not a very stable profession for a husband." He wryly quirked an eyebrow, allowing himself to rest back against the couch. It would not be a lie. And her father knew further: he was both a Curse-Breaker and a Death Eater. Double the chance of imminent demise. "I'm sure it would persuade them to look elsewhere. Make sure you play it up. Tell them I nearly died."

Emma hadn't been sure how she should go about this second date, or outing with Rabastan. It was clear that their parents wanted them together and were in talks of setting up an agreement. She knew that she couldn't openly defy her parents on the one side, but on the other side she had a boyfriend she had actual feelings for. One she hoped her parents would approve of once she introduced them to each other. Thorfinn was a pureblood too after all. The situation she was in was tricky so when Rabastan decided not to show for their outing part of her had felt relieved. Emma's ego was a bit hurt, figuring he could've at least let her know in advance that he would not show. She thought they were somewhat friends now.

The letter came as a surprise, her ego momentarily forgotten when she realised that he hadn't stood her up and that he'd gotten sick instead. Emma was relieved to hear that he was recovering, writing a letter back to affirm that she was stopping by, her curiosity piqued. Did he have an idea on how they should convince their parents they weren't a match?

Emma flooed in to Lestrange Manor, calling out for Rabastan.

#thread;emma #emma;3

[r-lestrcnge]

Starter for: Bellatrix Lestrange @brutal-bellatrix Where: Lestrange Manor

Once Rabastan had gathered enough energy to think coherently, the first thing on his mind had been the Dark Lord's work. It was at this point that he'd started to analyse the events of the last week or so, considering - with some irritation - whether his actions could have been better. There was nothing more important to him than the cause. He was devoted, blindly and dangerously. So the fact that his own choices had restricted him from pursuing it filled him with such annoyance that, at this point, while still ailing, it was not healthy.

Tasks that were simple and non-controversial had already been distributed by the Dark Lord himself, or by those beneath him. The remaining, Rabastan wanted to discuss with Bellatrix. Thus, he'd invited her to Lestrange Manor, where he currently sat at a desk in his childhood study, stubbornly intending to use his time wisely. A few letters were piled-up, ready to be sent; books lay open with passages marked, to be found useful later; he had written some scrolls for Emmeline, so that she could take over his objects at their business. He had not attempted any practical work, still unwilling to touch curses while still in an inconveniently enfeebled state. It was beginning to drive him to his wits' end.

So he was relieved to hear Bellatrix's familiar stride in the corridor outside the room. She would provide at least a semblance of usefulness. He waved his wand at the door, which swung inwards on its hinges, and called out, "In here, Bella."

#thread;bellatrix #bellatrix;1

[r-lestrcnge]

As the days passed, Rabastan's health slowly improved. He could feel the curse's poison leaving his body, as though evaporating from his skin. Tiredness still plagued him like an unwanted houseguest, at times his mind not as sharp as he would like. But he was physically stronger and no longer languished mindlessly. He did not like feeling useless. He was not accustomed to lacking awareness, and he loathed that he was in this position at all. Part of it had been his own doing, and he rued himself for it. If only he had not gone to work. It had been a fool's errand to attempt to handle that curse while feeling less than able. But he had been stubborn. He had not wanted to waste more of that day, having already spent most of it asleep, thanks to Apolline.

So it was with great irony that he now insisted on reapplying himself to functional matters, despite recognising that he had not helped himself by pushing his limits in the first place. Rabastan could be wilfully blind. His lack of awareness extended to Alecto, whose attentions he viewed as no different than usual. Too selfishly consumed by his own affairs, he did not pay her much heed, as her health was also recovering and she was occupied with her own meetings. But he did want to speak with her. So he was glad to hear her outside the door, and was willing to set aside his aims to spend time with her. Her injury had played on his mind, his previous anxiety proving most persistent as he continued to wonder what had happened. He wanted to know the full story.

"That is elf work, Alecto," he stated, setting down his quill as he watched her struggle through the door. "You did not need to bring it yourself. In fact, you shouldn't have."

Nonetheless, he stood and moved to join her, undeterred by the savage caution in her stare. Quite the opposite, he looked at her and casually smiled, sitting opposite before lowering his study to the tray. "Where are all these madeleines coming from? We have been eating them for over a week."

where: lestrange manor - few days later who: @r-lestrcnge

It would appear that Alecto Carrow was a glutton for punishment, discovering that her sadistic side per chance held a tiny masochist one as well. Rather evident the torment she placed upon herself in his presence, unbeknownst to said wizard. A dawning realisation, an epiphany, a break-through, that revealed Rabastan Lestrange in a whole new manner.

Subjecting herself to subtle glances perched on his bed, back against the headboard with a book in hand, observing him move around the room in a vest. Invasive thoughts diluting her concentration, fixated on indents of muscles covering his arms, Merlin help her when he was shirtless, desperately wishing to let her hands roam over his sculpted chest and stomach, exploring him to her hearts content.

She cursed him under her breath, sulking out of the room and down to the kitchen. With his strength slowly returning, he would take to his study to work, despite the protests of his parents. It was in his blood to work, a compulsion to keep his mind engrossed and keep his hands from being idle. Characteristics they both shared. Dumbledore had expressed his concern for her full recovery before returning.

A tray held in her hands, an assortment of delicatessen, including the infamous Madeleine's, and a potion drink to help with their strength, Alecto found herself outside his study. She prayed to Morgana he was dressed appropriately, for her own sanity. "I'm coming in." A warning, using her knee to keep the tray upright, waving her hand to open the door, promptly taking hold once more. A hip pushed into the wooden object.

Rabastan was found where she expected, tucked behind his desk with parchment surrounding him. "I bring food." A faint smile pulls on her lips. A few strides place the silver tray on a small table between two chairs. "Join me." A more hidden demand in her tone, food would replenish his strength, and he had a nasty habit of neglecting basic needs. Alecto gracefully descends into one of the high back lounge chairs, stern eyes narrow in warning in his direction.

#thread;alecto #alecto;4

[r-lestrcnge]

Telling signs went unnoticed by Rabastan. He was a perceptive man. But he was currently too unwell and exhausted to take note of her fingers roaming his skin with a different tenderness, or the change in the intensity of her expression. The events of the previous nights were blurred, stifled by his mind in an automatic effort to compel his focus to recovery. He remembered only what had happened to bring him to this state: the curse and the half-breed witch.

He watched her idly, his head turned against plush pillows and eyes adjusting to the dim light. She had seized the fact that had also caused his parents to press him for a story, though so far he'd been unable to move beyond reasserting that it was his own error; he did not make mistakes easily. He was not naturally reckless. "Then I'm sorry. I broke the promise." It was an impossible oath to uphold completely, but the intention had been good; they would take care of themselves and each other, whenever possible. In time, he would realise that it had been foolish to attempt to work while not feeling like himself. But he was not yet at that point.

As she pulled her hand away, he raised his own, raking his fingers through hair tangled by restlessness. He loathed this feeling. Helplessness did not suit him. Weakness was abhorrent. The sooner he returned to strength, the better. It was this knowledge alone that forced him to commit to rest, as he was more inclined to work and make himself useful despite his illness.

It didn't help him to learn what had happened. His emotions riled, unhappy that she had participated in something that had gone awry, knowing what that could have meant. The thought of losing her to death or to capture was too terrible to consider at this moment, and the news that she had commanded his elf to transport her revealed the extent of her injury - whatever it was. The effort to think about this was too much. He felt his head swimming and was taken by the urge to close his eyes again.

"Don't worry," he made himself say. "You're safe now."

#thread;alecto #alecto;3

[r-lestrcnge]

"It seems to ripple from you, Theodore," he jested as they started to walk. "You carry the weighted weariness of all Ministry employees." It wasn't especially true, though as Rabastan glanced sideways at the other man, he considered that he did look less energetic than usual.

Once they'd cleared the foyer and stepped outside, the fresh air was a welcome change. It refreshed Rabastan for a moment. But by the time he'd collected a coffee, and had insisted on paying for it himself, he felt the persistent drag of tiredness winding through his veins once more. For the second time that afternoon, he heaped an inordinate amount of sugar into the steaming liquid, then moved to sit on a nearby bench. He did not wish to stand. It seemed like a effortful endeavour that he could do without.

"How is your sister, Theo? She was radiant at the gala." He liked Estelle. It had been a pity that he hadn't managed to spend more time with her. Stirring the coffee, he propped it onto the arm of the bench and turned his attention to the other wizard. "Were you there?"

Theo and Rabastan had been friends for a while. Their families knew each other and they'd been in the same social circle for a long time. They saw each other every now and then for a chat but they weren't best friends by a long shot. Even so, Theodore recognized the way that Rabastan paused when he asked the usual pleasantries. It was unusual, but Theodore didn't push for an answer. He hated when people did that. He assumed that if Rabastan wanted to tell him what was going on that he would. Why should he fish for something?

"How did you know?" Theo asked with a smile similar in nature to Rabastan's. He nodded towards the exits and led the way back to the coffee cart that he had just visited. "Get whatever you'd like. It's on me."

#theodore;1 #thread;theodore

[r-lestrcnge]

"Let the children go, Sinistra," Rabastan commented dismissively, though the spark in his clever eyes did not fade. "They are hardly worth our time." He was not interested in teaching lessons to youngsters, or in turning his wand against those who lacked the ability to fight against him. It was a hypocrisy, considering how readily he would torment muggles and weaker wizards. But he required a reason for making others suffer, and if his victims were to be children, the reason had to be all the more acute. A little infantile jostling was not the crime of the century.

Still, since they had encountered each other and now conveniently found themselves together, he would not waste the opportunity. He had meant to test her abilities and her devotion. So that is what he would do.

"We have a traitor in our ranks. They fled a few weeks ago, but I have tracked them to a muggle village just outside of Hogsmeade. They need to be punished." He paused, setting his eyes onto hers with weighted intensity. It was not the sort of study that could be easily deterred. She was free to refuse, but he would judge her for it. "You are welcome to join me, if you wish."

Sinistra couldn't help but see interest in Rabastan's eyes. It seemed as though every time she saw him that interest grew. She would do anything to get the Lestrange's blessing. Anything. The Lestranges were one of the few families Sinistra put on a pedestal. In fact, it was the family highest on the list. And there she was, able to be in Rabastan's company, seeming to have his approval. It was a feeling that made the Lowe bellow with pride.

Her time serving the Dark Lord was the best she could remember but she wanted do more than create propaganda. She wanted more than smaller missions. She wanted something big. Sinistra may have blocked out torturing the muggle she found Kenneth with but she knew that the outlet is what changed her and if she had to do it again she would. The only difference would be that she would remember it. What she would do to have the chance again.

"Yes, to hex the children," Sinistra said with a laugh. "They are who is around, after all. Besides, someone should teach them a lesson," she raised a brow. "But you are correct. Something better would be much more fun and necessary. Did you have anything specific in mind?" Sinistra asked with a lilt.

#thread;sinistra #sinistra;2

[r-lestrcnge]

Rabastan always rose early. It was a habit instilled from a young age; one that extended into his time at Hogwarts and beyond into adult life. Much could be achieved while others slept, and he liked to fill his days with activities that were useful. Time-wasting was not in his nature. Neither was laziness. So even though he proceeded through Diagon Alley at a fairly early hour, he had already been awake for many and was in the process of taking a well-earned break.

Not expecting to be addressed by the overly exuberant shop keeper, he paused, taking a moment to consider him before turning his attention to the store. It was not one that he'd troubled to visit previously. But since he had time on his hands, he saw no reason to pass it by without further observation.

"Not in particular," he told the man. His tone could not have contrasted more greatly. Quiet and steady, it lacked enthusiasm and exuded arrogance. "But you do seem to have quite the collection of odds and ends. Anything cursed?"

bric-a-brac

location: diagon alley (ish) status: open to all

The one good thing about running the shop, even if he didn't own it, was that Caradoc could set his own hours.

Of course, that did lead to there not being much adherence to the hours of operation marked on the door, but so far there hadn't been any complaints.

He was in the middle of opening up for the day - setting up the booth outside, arranging the signs and wares just so when he had a feeling of someone coming up behind him.

"Ah! Good morning, good morning! Bric-a-Brac will be ready for browsing to your heart's content in just a few minutes - but until then, is there a specific thing you're looking for?"

#thread;caradoc #caradoc;1 #//we shall vibe~

[r-lestrcnge]

Rabastan had not expected to be convinced by Jeffrey's response. But he found it satisfactory. There was a truth in his words that struck him; he would have believed in this cause regardless of location. Whether he would have lent his support was another matter, though he considered that he probably would, perhaps after biding some time to see how things fared. He did not trust Jeffrey completely. It would take far more than a mere conversation to persuade Rabastan to elevate him to the same level as those he'd known since childhood. But their little talk, as brief as it was, had pushed him slightly higher in his esteem. "Then your dedication is admirable." With that judgement, he smiled more affably and settled back to finish his drink. "We've yet to do any work together for this cause, Jeffrey. I think we should rectify that. What are your strengths?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm no coward. When I see a cause I believe in I want to fight. It didn't feel right sitting back and being safely tucked away." Jeff answered without a moment's of hesitation. Rabastan didn't know that the cause he was so passionate about was not Voldemort's but equality for muggleborns and halfbloods. Purebloods like him were too high and mighty and thought they were better for no real reason. They had a superiority complex and were bigoted. "We do not want end up in a world where the magical blood dies out, right? The fight starts here in England but its only a matter of time before it will expand to the rest of the magical world. I think it's important to be at the epicenter of it all."

#thread;jeffrey #jeffrey;1

[r-lestrcnge]

It had taken but a moment for Rabastan to know that she'd arrived. He had felt the subtle shifting in the enchantments on the ancient building; a dark prickling that pierced through skin and veins, filling pure blood with the knowledge that something had passed the wards. So he'd moved from the chair in which he'd been languishing, pushing himself to summon the focus required for this meeting. He would not have agreed to it, if he had not felt well enough. But now that the time had arrived, he found himself reluctant to see her. He resented Andromeda. He may have owed her his life, but this did nothing to soften years of bitterness.

It took a good ten minutes for her to walk through the grounds and the house. The estate was sprawling. He could have arranged for her to apparate or floo directly into a room, but his design had been one of intimidation and hostility. He had wanted to make her pace alone, escorted by a mere elf, subjected to the stares of his ancestral portraits and the oppressive darkness of the house's interior. As he entered the sitting room, he was pleased to find that his plan had worked. She looked like a caged animal, desperate either to leave or face her fate. But his satisfaction was only skin deep, and did not extend to his expression, which remained neutral and attentive.

"You may put your wand away, Andromeda." Joining her in the room, he paced closer, until they stood together before the fireplace. It was a peculiar thing to observe her like this, an isolated figure in the middle of his territory. There was a time when he would have done anything to achieve it. He would have made her his wife, and she would have stood here not in fear but in comfort. He would have given her everything. But it was not to be, and he thanked the fates that his parents had been more astute than himself; a foolish teenager, filled with selfish desires and more than a little lust. It would have ended in catastrophe. "I do not intend to harm you. But please sit down, for I cannot stand for too long."

Gesturing to a sofa behind her, he then took his own seat, and no sooner had he done so did drinks appear on a table beside each of them; a small glass of brandy on his, elderflower wine on hers. He remembered her chosen beverage well enough. She was free to request something else if she wished, though he doubted she would have the gall.

"Thank you for coming. It's much better to discuss this personally, I think."

It's almost a moment of relief when the letter is dropped in front of her and she recognizes the familiar family seal emblazoned on the front. She had been on edge since that day she had seen Rabastan at St. Mungo's. Prepared for anything to come from it now that she knew what he was. She had done her best to go on as normal, but even Ted had grown concerned over her behavior. She's only thankful to be alone now as she opens the letter and reads it's contents. Free to react and debate how to respond without disturbance.

By the time she's finished a sufficient response, her desk is littered with half finished and crumpled pieces of parchment. The letter is succinct and to the point, agreeing to meet him at Lestrange Manor and providing a date and time not too far into the future. She preferred to have this meeting sooner rather than later. She needed to know where things stood, how they moved forward. If she could find anything but anxiety within her, she may have laughed at his warning to come alone. As if she would ever risk someone else going with her, especially Ted.

Andromeda hates lying to Ted, but the day of the meeting she informs him that she's needed at the hospital, unsure of when she'll be able to come home. She's steeled herself for any possible outcome, even prepared to die to protect her family if that is what it comes to. And with those fears in mind, she kisses her husband and daughter goodbye. Praying to whoever may listen that she would come home.

She's not sure what to expect when she apparates to the edge of the Lestrange Manor grounds. Her hand already wrapped around her wand as she makes her way through the gates and to the front door. She's not surprised when she's ushered into the house by a house elf, and it's as though she's stepping back in time. She's thrown back into memories of all the parties she had attended here. Hours spent during summer running around with her sisters and the Lestrange boys. She had done a lot of growing up here. A place that had once felt like home now felt dangerous, like enemy territory.

She recognizes the sitting room she's escorted too, unable to count the amount of hours she had spent here with Rabastan. It leaves her on edge. Once the house elf leaves, telling her that his master would be a long shortly, all she can do is pace. She's unwilling to sit, to let herself get comfortable. Instead she listens closely for any sound, wand still in hand as she waits.

#thread;andromeda #andromeda;2

[r-lestrcnge]

Solo mentioning: Andromeda Tonks @tonksxandromeda Apolline Beausejour @apollinebeausejour Bellatrix Lestrange @brutal-bellatrix Rodolphus Lestrange @xrodolphusxlestrangex

Lestrange Manor was home. When facing impending death, it had been Rabastan's instinct to return here, to the place where he would be shrouded by the impenetrable bonds of blood loyalty and the protection of the thickest, darkest magic. He knew the house inside out, years spent roaming its rooms, discovering its secrets and respectfully keeping them. It would never be his. But it would always contain a part of him.

So far, he'd been there for only a few days. But he'd seen more of his parents than in total over the last month. He lingered unwell in his childhood rooms, too exhausted to do very much. Finding comfort in the familiar surroundings, he was even grateful for his parents' daily visits, when usually he would prefer to be left alone. Each day they would study him, patiently waiting until he was fit enough to hold a conversation for longer than a few minutes. At that point, he summoned them along with Rodolphus and Bellatrix, and shared everything pertinent that had happened, for it affected all of them. A family should not keep secrets that could damage its components; a family's strength was only as good as its unity.

The fact that Andromeda had discovered his secret was dismissed as non-essential; they decided that Rabastan would speak with her himself.

The rest of the conversation, which centred on Apolline and the resulting error in his work, was one of the most uncomfortable discussions they'd ever had. It was a curious thing to watch both parents pale and darken at the same time. But somehow they managed this impossible feat, and it rendered them silent and glowering.

"Are you certain," his father eventually bluntly began, "that she will not come to us in a few months, claiming she carries an heir?"

It was the final straw for his naturally mild mother, who rose to her feet and strode behind her son's seat, placing her hands flat against his chest in a fierce act of maternal protection. Her passivity had gone to the wind, thrown aside in the face of a threat against her family. She was repulsed. Rabastan could feel her nails gritting into his shirt, her quiet fury as heated as the fire that blazed behind his father's ordinarily stoic eyes.

"Do something, Corvus," she demanded. "Do something, or I will kill that unnatural half-breed and her Veela mother myself. For too long, they have been a stain in our lives."

The Lestrange patriarch looked between his wife, who he valued but had never loved, and his youngest son, who he had never wanted but who was proving his worth. There was no warmth within this family. But there was savage, unyielding loyalty.

The Beauséjours would pay.

Within minutes, a letter was dispatched, informing them that ties would be cut due to the violation of their son and the cause of his near-death. By the end of the hour, they ordered the withdrawal of all gold from their shared investments. As evening approached, they had devised a more personal punishment, suitable enough to satisfy a quintet of malicious intentions.

#rabastan;solo #thread;andromeda #thread;apolline #andromeda;1 #apolline;3 #thread;rodolphus #rodolphus;2 #thread;bellatrix #bellatrix;1

[r-lestrcnge]

Telling signs went unnoticed by Rabastan. He was a perceptive man. But he was currently too unwell and exhausted to take note of her fingers roaming his skin with a different tenderness, or the change in the intensity of her expression. The events of the previous nights were blurred, stifled by his mind in an automatic effort to compel his focus to recovery. He remembered only what had happened to bring him to this state: the curse and the half-breed witch.

He watched her idly, his head turned against plush pillows and eyes adjusting to the dim light. She had seized the fact that had also caused his parents to press him for a story, though so far he'd been unable to move beyond reasserting that it was his own error; he did not make mistakes easily. He was not naturally reckless. "Then I'm sorry. I broke the promise." It was an impossible oath to uphold completely, but the intention had been good; they would take care of themselves and each other, whenever possible. In time, he would realise that it had been foolish to attempt to work while not feeling like himself. But he was not yet at that point.

As she pulled her hand away, he raised his own, raking his fingers through hair tangled by restlessness. He loathed this feeling. Helplessness did not suit him. Weakness was abhorrent. The sooner he returned to strength, the better. It was this knowledge alone that forced him to commit to rest, as he was more inclined to work and make himself useful despite his illness.

It didn't help him to learn what had happened. His emotions riled, unhappy that she had participated in something that had gone awry, knowing what that could have meant. The thought of losing her to death or to capture was too terrible to consider at this moment, and the news that she had commanded his elf to transport her revealed the extent of her injury - whatever it was. The effort to think about this was too much. He felt his head swimming and was taken by the urge to close his eyes again.

"Don't worry," he made himself say. "You're safe now."

The tips of her nails trickle down his forearm, slipping off the side of his wrist, resting her hand beside his. Soft, tired, hazel hues open, fixating on his face. A gentle glow of sun rays peek through breaks in the curtains, accentuating his features. Childhood friends pledged into an unlikely alliance, a closeness bound by no rules, and lack of bother of outside opinions - a world created by darkness devouring their souls.

A feel of unknown territory fell on the horizon. Laid beside her was not merely her best friend, he was a wizard that completed her in ways she was terrified of accepting, a truth she could no longer deny. Enthralled by exhaustion sanctioned the opportunity to bury those temptations, for now. A small reprieve.

"You don't make mistakes," Alecto pointed out, factually. Rabastan did not, he was calculated, intelligent, and would not enter a situation where he could not control the outcome. Skills over the years passed down to her. That raised concern. Afraid to learn what might incline him to do so. Languidly, a hand ascends into the air, a pad of a finger brushing the loose onyx strand from his face. "We promised, no mishaps." Too many risks and harm came with the path they embarked down, an oath to remain true to each other, and a fierce protection.

"Me?" The hand that removed the tresses from his face, settled on the bottom of her pillow. Alecto knew what would transpire from her confession. "A mission gone wrong." No desire to comment on further details, unless summoned. "My head was focused on a conversation with my mother prior." Tad bits of information remained tucked away, the need for more time to digest her feelings for him, aimless daydreams of their lips locked in the kiss that should have happened.

"Your house self," admitting this was hard to let roll of her tongue, "guided me here." Brought to a place where her chaos found peace, his presence her calmness.

#thread;alecto #alecto;3

[r-lestrcnge]

As much as Rabastan would hate to admit it, he agreed with Rosmerta. This would not have been his first choice of a meeting location. In fact, he had stated his displeasure most insistently, but since it had fallen on stubbornly deaf ears, here he was. "Then it's a good thing we're discussing only innocent topics, isn't it?" An outright lie, uttered through a charming smile. "Do feel free to join us. When I left, they had just started to discuss the Quidditch league."

Ros picked up the coins that he left for her and her gaze moved to the people sitting in the corner where he had left. "You know... There are actually better places and times to talk about your favourite subjects, than during the middle of the day and in a popular place?" The woman pointed out as she gestured in the direction of the group still talking. "People might hear."

#thread;rosmerta #rosmerta;1

[r-lestrcnge]

He enjoyed the roam of her eyes, knowing full well what was prickling through her clever, devious mind. It had been a long time since she'd looked at him in that way. Their paths had crossed since her husband had died, but only in the presence of others. He had not encountered her alone until now, and neither had he sought her privately. "Wouldn't it? You know how I hate to be wasteful."

Her explanation renewed his laugh, which softly trailed from knowing lips. It was thrilling to have so many embedded in the Ministry. Work such as hers was invaluable. It progressed the end of the government; a moment for which he could hardly wait. Their world needed to crash and burn, then be hauled up and rebuilt anew.

"That would be lovely, Evelyn. I think we have quite the catching-up to do."

"Your place or mine?"

Evelyn took a moment to admire Rabastan as that roguish smile made it's way to his lips. She had always enjoyed his company, one whose soul was as dark and twisted as her own. He knew her more than most, including those that she preferred to keep dead and buried. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. But you're here now, it would be a shame to waste that opportunity."

She removed her hand from around her wand in her pocket, flashing him a knowing smile. "It would seem my work is never finished. Rumors of an illegal portkey needed to be investigated. I believe it to be unfounded." A lie of course, she was aware of the portkey and had helped in ensuring it was in it's proper place. She was sure the devilish look on her features gave way everything he may need to know. "But now that my work is finished I'd be delighted to have some company. Perhaps a drink or two?"

#thread;evelyn #evelyn;1

[r-lestrcnge]

This time, he watched her as she spoke, absorbing her appearance. She was a pretty sort of thing; young and sweet, clothed in a girlish yellow dress that was not unpleasant to the eye. But without knowing who she was, Rabastan would not consider that further and he lacked the desire to prolong this conversation beyond the time it took to finish his purchases. "It's good to have a passion," he responded, and he meant his words. "Too many drift through life without a care in the world. I imagine it must be terribly boring to exist like that, without an aim." Levitating a few more items towards his growing pile of wares, he then summoned his elf, instructing him to complete the purchase and take the items home.

"Honestly? Yes. I do. I'm conduction a survey for my book right now. It's about magical cheesemaking. " Greta explained, her tone excited. "It's not unorthodox at all. At least for me. Yes, I admit that I talk about cheese a lot and I also think about it, research it, experiment with it, produce it... All in all, it holds a big part in my life."

#thread;greta #greta;1 #//good to end? Or feel free to add one!

[r-lestrcnge]

Starter for: Andromeda Tonks @tonksxandromeda An envelope is flown onto Andromeda's desk, deposited by an eagle owl, which sits and waits patiently for return instructions. Closer inspection reveals its origin, stated boldly in heraldic imagery; a crow bearing the Lestrange name and motto. Inside, a brief letter is written in ink, the sender having taken longer than usual to write the few simple sentences.

Andromeda,

I think it would be prudent to speak. I am at Lestrange Manor, still in relatively poor health. Would you visit? I will raise the wards for you only. Please come alone; should anyone join you unexpectedly, it would not end well for them.

Thank you for your work. I know I owe you my life.

Sincerely,

Rabastan

#thread;andromeda #andromeda;2

[r-lestrcnge]

END.

Had Rabastan been more able, he would not have cared for her disrespect quite so much. But the fact that she dared to pull his strings while he was so unwell, made his temper flare all the more. Even while consumed by what felt like a deathly curse, his agitation found space to grow and he became increasingly distressed with each moment that passed and each retort that was thrown at him. In the end, he lost the will to continue arguing. The fight left him, fleeing like a treacherous friend from a sinking ship, leaving him to drown beneath the waters.

Internally admitting defeat, he sat back and permitted the malignant magic to run riot beneath his skin. He had long accepted that he might die in this war. It was ironic that the curse that could kill him now, was as dark as those which he used against others; a justice that he would have found delightfully poetic, had he been more aware of it. But currently he knew only the fever now causing him to a break a sweat, his awareness ebbing and flowing.

He did not feel her hands on him, and neither did he notice the draught being poured down his throat. For a moment, there was stillness. Everything seemed to calm. But then there was a surge within him, as though the curse sensed the presence of a threat and sought to destroy it. He heard the sudden roar of screaming in his ears, the voices of those claimed before him beckoning his untimely demise. Pulse racing, his eyes snapped open and reflected flames within, not the green of the floo but blazing red, as the curse stole the last vestige of his consciousness before he blacked out.

#thread;andromeda #andromeda;1