r-lestrxnge

[r-lestrxnge]

"Mm that's a common judgement," Rabastan drawled, amused as he picked at his plate. She had been teasing, of course. But he was quiet and naturally reserved. Those qualities had fared him well throughout his life. Until recent years, people had not paid him much heed, assuming he was too dull or too placid to be a threat. Fools. "No," he said resolutely, before he faintly laughed. "I have no time for recreational sport. If that makes me boring, so be it. I have other things to interest me."

As though on cue, he looked up and spotted one of her brothers lingering beside the wedding cake. Unwilling to let him disappear back into the crowd, he excused himself and left Emma with the rest of the champagne.

END.

Emma supposed she was enjoying herself. Rabastan wasn't that bad company, even if they hadn't seen each other for a while. They hadn't really talked that much in the past either. Emma just remembered him being good friends with her brothers. She hadn't paid too much attention to him really. She supposed he didn't look too bad. But she wasn't single, so she wasn't exactly looking.

"Boring." The brunette teased with a little smirk. She found anyone that didn't want to play quidditch boring. But really, not everyone could play. "There are recreational teams you know" So everyone could play if they really wanted. "I was determined it would happen." She was. And she had always been quite a determined person. "And it paid off." She was very happy about it. "Oh. They are great. Probably around here somewhere"

[r-lestrxnge]

Pen's response continued to engage Rabastan. Their disbelief could have made him laugh, along with the reason offered. If they were to speak together about monsters and unsettling others, then surely they were alike. Though different on a surface level, the pair's inherent natures were two sides of the same coin. There was great beauty to be found in darkness, and pride to be taken in savage corruption. "Only weak fools shy from their discomforts," he merely said, for he scorned those who fled their fears instead of facing them.

"You surprise me by asking to dance," he told Pen, the grin still dusting his lips as he watched them. "I would not have expected it." Once the cane was dispatched, they began to move. Pen was a pleasant partner. Though slightly taller, they moved with more light elegance than many others that Rabastan had unfortunately encountered. These skills were supposed to be engrained into their society, yet so many no longer valued them. Tradition was fading. Dancing was hardly high on his list of essentials to protect, but it marked yet another tragedy that would soon befall their kind if the years proceeded as they were. Stubbornly, he pushed these thoughts from his mind. He had determined not to permit bitterness to taint this day.

"The thing about my parents, is that they never care to watch me until they do. Then, there is no stopping them." Quirking an eyebrow, he wryly laughed. After a childhood spent in Rodolphus's shadow, any attention from the senior Lestranges felt almost unbearable. It was why he'd moved away and started his own independence at the earliest opportunity, though it had not freed him from expectations and neither did he wish to abandon them. "Don't you worry about that. They have a long list of pureblooded suitors to throw towards me - and Rodolphus. Though how he's managed to escape this incursion tonight, I will never know."

Their head tipped a bit to the side, regarding Rabastan quietly and considering the fact that he found the description accurate. They shook their head slowly, "I don't believe i've ever been described that way, before." Calling them charming implied that there was something inherently likeable about them, when throughout their life they had seen much evidence of the opposite. Most people seemed to have the instinct to avoid them, like they could somehow sense the monster hidden in their fragility. "My presence unsettles others most often..." Pen kept their hand open and offered to him while he considered it, and they were pleasantly surprised when after a long moment he grinned as he did, and took it. As if he were somehow eager to dance with them. Their touch remained light, Pen following him with their eyes at first, and then gracefully stepping after him into the crowd of people on the dance floor. "What has been so surprising...?" Their free hand lifted away from the handle of their cane, sending it floating away to stick itself leaning against a wall nearby, not to be moved by anyone else's touch. They were used to people going out of their way to avoid them. When a couple stalled in their steps to shuffle themselves away from them, they didn't react for theirself. They did look back to Rabastan when he snorted, and for a moment there was the tiniest upward tug to the corners of their lips, the smallest smile. It was gone again in an instant. "We will be watched by some... But will we be watched by your parents?" Hesitating only a moment out of habit, they slipped their free hand to one of Rabastan's shoulders without any weight to it, only the barest brush of their fingertips. "Surely they would know better than to seriously consider me."

[r-lestrxnge]

Rabastan could not care less for any rumours. Their society was full of them at the best of times, all of them mundane and most of them utter drivel. These post-war years were not longer the best of times, so the whispers flooding people's conversations were darker and more savage. The majority were true. The Lestranges chose their words carefully, neither confirming nor denying, but never renouncing the Dark Lord. Such a thing would be repulsive; an insult to the cause they had sworn to fight.

Watching her open and close her mouth like an alarmed fish, he stifled yet another laugh and stood instead in passive observation. Internally, he was grinning from ear to ear. "I can see it bothers you, indeed. Perhaps there is something about me that attracts foliage."

He didn't notice her scrunching her nose, too occupied by examining the magic. Had he been aware, he'd have thought it rich, considering she had told him to use her shortened names mere moments ago. She was truly an oddity. But he appreciated her enthusiasm for magic, and he observed her brightening smile with subtle interest. "Spellcraft is a dying art. There are not many who dare to change what has been done before. But we must continue to strengthen our magic and permit it to evolve." Too many did not realise that magic was a living power in its own right. To stifle it was a crime, as was limiting oneself to practising only accepted forms. Those who feared the Dark Arts were fools. "Parents are too easily upset by small things. Perhaps a flash of colour might have livened the portrait." Having said the words seriously, he then scoffed with derision, knowing full well that his own parents would have thrown a fit if he had done the same thing.

There was something about Rabastan Lestrange that intrigued her yet, at the same time, he perplexed her. They were from the same circle in society, still, all she knew were the rumours that surrounded him; leaving him someone that she cared not much for. Same society, different worlds. Though, her world, as she was learning, was different compared to most. That didn't bother the witch, she was quite content with her spells and magical creatures.

Pandora opened her mouth to counter, a moment of silence before her lips close. She could not argue that Pickle touched him first. Defiant amber hues narrow at the wizard. "It bothers me so that she did." That was her bowtruckle and she didn't take to any, except her brother and his bowtruckle, and she couldn't understand why Rabastan Lestrange. "You are forgiven. I do hope it was a one off and she won't be charmed by your blue eyes next time." She would make sure there would be no next time for her Pickle to be a traitor and decide she wished the company of the wizard over hers.

Her nose wrinkles at his request to be called Rabastan, not quite certain she could oblige, considering the lack of knowing each other. Though a bright smile etches onto her lips, turning to face the peacocks, not accustomed to receiving compliments on her experimenting spells. "It can be simple, and then it can be a disaster." A soft chuckle spills from her lips. "It's knowing which parts of a spell to pull to bind together in another and definitely not being afraid to make mistakes. I can do a lot of good with them." It helped her tremendously in her line of work. "I once had a spell backfire on me and turned my hair purple. It really did upset my parents. It was hours before we were doing a family portrait."

[r-lestrxnge]

Meeting Xanthos's contradiction with a bland glare, he downed the other half of the drink. The last time he'd dragged him into a spa it was under the pretence that there would be women. Significantly younger than they were now, he had been extremely disappointed to find nothing but a sauna full of inappropriately sweaty, naked men. He had been too ashamed to relay this tale to his parents upon returning home to Lestrange Manor from Greece.

"I said I don't care when you marry, not whom," he clarified. "If you marry a mudblood, you will have lost your mind and I will have nothing more to do with you." Such a thing was absurd, of course. Xanthos would not. Though if the tides turned for some obscure reason and he found his friend turned traitor, Rabastan would be genuinely disappointed to lose him. "Glad to hear it. You see her-?" He gestured obliquely to a stunning Zabini witch. "Rumour has it she kills her partners. Watch your back if you get her into bed."

Honestly, the way he reacted Xanthos would swear he’d asked Rabastan to run naked through the streets covered in honey- something he knew quite a few of his friends had done thanks to losing bets, but no- simple things like male kinship and platonic affection just seemed to disturb him to an unnatural degree. Even amongst these repressed British he stood head and shoulder’s above with his prudish behaviour. 

“Yes you will,” Xanthos smirked, knowing he’d already won. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d wrestled the other Wizard into submission and he awoke where Xan needed him to be- that was how he’d got him to try Winged-Horse riding over a cliff edge after all. “And you’ll be better for it.”

“Oh yes you do- If I said I were marrying a penniless Muggleborn you’d have a great deal to say.” So would his parents and other friends though. “Yes, yes.” He waved one hand and held to the other for the floating bottle to refill his glass. Downing it, he let to a breath and continued, “You’ve made that quite clear, I’ve no intention of going slumming anytime soon.”  

[r-lestrxnge]

At Fletcher's reaction, Rabastan leaned back and laughed. It was not his usual quietly contained thrill, but an open hilarity that he did not care to suppress. This was the highlight of the day. What made it more outrageously ridiculous was the fact that it had nothing to do with the happy couple's meticulous planning. Too busy quasi-cackling, he almost missed the other wizard's descriptive insult. But not quiet. Waving his wand, he summoned more alcohol, not caring where it came from. As it happened, it flew down the hallway and swooped in around Fletcher's head, landing with a heavy clink on a desk.

"Pretentious nightmare," he mused with a lingering smirk. "That's very creative. I like it." Standing, he picked up the bottle and examined the label. It was some kind of high-brow brandy. Filling his now empty champagne glass, he offered the bottle to Fletcher and narrowed his eyes as he fondled his lapels. "Fancy? You?" Taking a large sip, he stepped closer and raised the edge of the jacket with the tip of his wand, as though seeking signs of curse-damage beneath. It wasn't truly a method to detect anything of use. But the action was mildly entertaining, and it did permit him to better sense the spell clinging to garment like a rabid leech. "Let's see if you continue to deny the curse when your skin starts falling off." He was plucking a symptom from thin air, but nonetheless there was no doubt it was cursed with something nasty. "I could break it if you want. Don't say I didn't offer."

It was getting later into the evening and Fletcher figured it was about time to wrap things up at the wedding. He'd caught word of another party going on at a tattoo parlor or something and wanted to pop in there towards the end of things if he could manage it. The tail end of a party where people had been drinking and getting high all night would surely be good for some easy pick pocketing. Slowly he wandered further into the mansion than he knew he should have been, trying the first door he came to that looked like it might lead somewhere. Finding it was locked, he figured it would be a good door to gamble on. Reaching for the picking tools he had hidden away in one of his socks, he started at it. It was tougher than he'd expected. He rattled the doorknob a few more times before it finally came unlocked. Fletcher got back to his feet as it swung open, squinting and glancing around him as he stepped into the room- "BLOODY-! FUCK-" Fletcher physically jumped back a step as he was surprised by the unexpected presence of Rabastan Lestrange who seemed to have been waiting there for him for some reason. "Every day's the loveliest day to do crime- You trying to scare me shitless? Bloody, lurking in the dark like some pretentious nightmare-?" A gruff frown immediately found his features, a furrow in his brow. His fingers curled at his sides, but he wasn't sure if he could get away with nicking anything now that he had eyes on him. Rabastan did business with him regularly, but that didn't mean the fucker was about to let him get away with stealing from the Malfoys. Purebloods were stupidly loyal about the dumbest shit. He scoffed at the comment about his suit, immediately reaching to touch at the lapels. "What? Fuck off, no it's not. Got it some place fancy." The fanciest place down Knockturn alley. He'd have the piece moved and gold weighing his pockets down before anyone could begin the investigation. It was good as his the moment he'd put it on.

[r-lestrxnge]

Though Rabastan had moved away from Theo, he did not cease his study. It was an attention engrained by years of war, and a natural inclination to know as much as possible about those in his presence. Her persistent embarrassment was also quite the inducement. He observed it wickedly, knowing full well that she was mildly uncomfortable. He had no desire to limit that emotion. It was far preferable to watch it expanding her delicate features like a perfect ruby flood.

As they stepped through the house, his ancestors' painted eyes stared down from the pictures that lined the walls, judging her more harshly than Rabastan, who was at present merely humorously entertained by this whole interaction. When he'd asked for her name, he had not expected to find she was another pureblood. He knew of the Abbotts. They were far below his status in terms of wealth and power, but they were a family that boasted the same standard of blood purity. He kept up with all of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Though the Lestranges didn't mix with the Abbotts, he knew they had a daughter - and here she was, unexpectedly inserting herself into his day. The Abbotts' social position did not matter to him. He cared only for blood, and since this witch was as pure as the driven snow, she was his equal.

"Then it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his tone a hint more open. "My name is Rabastan. And I'm glad you made this delivery instead of Oz."

The stairs were wide enough to accommodate them both, so they descended side-by-side into a small foyer at the bottom. Unlocking the sitting room door, which had been secured due to the treasure within, he pushed it open and held it for her to pass. The action held a sense of expectation. He had not overtly invited her inside, but he doubted she would refuse and neither did he wish it.

"Please excuse the mess." The 'mess' being the large heap of gold and other precious items strewn over a desk. "I will clear it in a moment. Do you drink tea or coffee?"

Theo would have loved for this to be the first time that this scenario had happened. But she did sometimes get a little speechless. She supposed this was the first time that it had happened with the other person being half naked. It was all quite embarrassing. And she was sure her face was bright red. Theo was a grateful that she at least did not know the man in front of her. That would have been even worse. After this, she would be grateful to never see the man again.

"I suppose that is true." Oz was good at the whole flower growing, and now Theo was learning the magic. It made all these embarrassing moments when she delivered flowers worth it. And she supposed seeing handsome man was too. But right now, that thought was just going to make her blush more. "I mean...." She mused, a little smile on her lips. "Your words not mine" She didn't think that the place looked too bad. But this floor alone seemed bigger than her entire flat. Oh how the others lived.

At his gesture she began walking back towards the stairs. Hopefully she could make a quick exit when they got downstairs, after all she was still feeling embarrassed.

"Oh. I'm Theodosia Abbott"

[r-lestrxnge]

At her question, he studied her more attentively. He supposed she was less happy than himself, today. Bellatrix's inclinations were forcefully brutal. It was such a waste that they were both now relegated to playing at peace. It wasn't in their natures. They were meant for war.

"You know," he began, resting a shoulder languorously against the wall and glancing from the window they had stopped beside. "I wonder if it would be too disruptive to create some problems for our Auror friends, who are doing such an excellent job with security, today." Surely a few misdemeanours wouldn't raise too many eyebrows. He would much rather kill them all in a blaze of brightly flashing glory. But he could not always have what he wanted, more's the pity.

Rabastan was a breath of fresh air from the imbeciles that crowded the event. Most left her in a state of dire need to claw her eyes out and leave each withering beneath her feet. Alas, tonight required her best behaviour, despite the urges that streamed throughout her.

"Am I?" Bellatrix countered, taking a supple indulgence of her drink, a desperate need to numb the discontent that rippled through her. She did not hesitate, taking stride beside the one she called family. "I fear it might be much easier to ask who has not." Disdain in her tone, knowing there were only a few on the list.

[r-lestrxnge]

Rabastan did not bother to engage with Xanthos about prudishness or intimacy. The other man had a peculiar attitude towards both, and Rabastan had long learned that debating it would get him nowhere. The cultural difference was too great, and frankly he did not wish to be dragged through a indecorous public argument. He was, however, impressed that Xanthos actually restrained the urge to wrestle.

"I will not." With that savage statement, he downed half the ouzo and rued the day they'd started corresponding. It had been worse as children. Xan's father was especially tactile. It was off-putting. So he was pleased that the other wizard accepted the change in conversation.

"I don't care when you marry, Xan. I'm suggesting you find a witch to enjoy, not to marry. Though you should think twice about blood. It means a lot here. Do not lower yourself by stepping beneath your station."

“I can see your prudish mind already shrinking back my friend, your lack of open-thought towards intimacy is truly concerning.” He shook his head, rocking back a step as the other shoved and had to put (considerable) effort into not tackling the man to the floor, he loved goading Rabastan into a wrestling match, all in good fun.

“Bah, so boring. My friend, you will accompany me to an open bath later this week, we have to have a serious conversation about your attitude towards touch.” His father was just as worried about it as Xan was- especially now he’d reached marrying age. “Ahh, now we’re reaching a more favourable subject,” he glanced around, easily pouring them a small glass each and left the bottle floating in the air between them. “They should be looking at me, I am fascinating. That and, unlike so many of you British men, am not afraid to bear the depth of my feelings.” Snorting at the mention of blood, something that mattered less to him than Rabastan, he continued, “Trying to marry me off already, my friend?”   

[r-lestrxnge]

Relieved it wasn't a fruit cake, he glanced at the impressive creation, studying its appearance and listening to the description. He appreciated the fine craftsmanship, never one to discredit merit where it was due, and he was not surprised to find that the Blacks and the Malfoys had opted for such a striking centrepiece.

"Yes, it looks delicious." Agreeing with Jason's verdict, he turned his stare back to the other wizard only to find his eyes diverted. He laughed, then. It wasn't cruel. But it was lightly disbelieving, and Rabastan followed Jason's sightline to the box hidden beneath the table. "That is quite a scandalous suggestion," he said seriously, a gleam in his eyes betraying the tease. "So naturally, I must accept and try a little before all the other guests."

Selecting the strawberry rhubarb tart as instructed, he took a pleasant bite. Jason's fidgeting was stark. It drew Rabastan's attention, and this time he couldn't help but comment. "Why are you so nervous?" It was a rich question from the man who had targeted the Gently household during the war, but Rabastan did not dwell on such things as trauma or misfortune in others. Emotions should be stifled, especially if they hindered one's everyday life. Excessive sensibility meant excessive weakness. He indicated to the half-eaten tart. "That is excellent. Just the right balance of sweet and sharp."

"N-Not everyone does," Jason agreed, nodding. "T-That's another r-reason it's g-good to h-have s-something else, too." "The M-Malfoys s-settled on an orange c-cake. I m-made it w-with f-fresh oranges from t-their own o-orchard." He seemed to light up as he explained, gesturing towards the cake which was set up in the center of the pavilion, waiting to be cut later that evening. It stood four layers high, with perfect white icing and decorated with beautiful edible flowers. "The c-cake itself is f-flavored with f-fresh orange rind, t-there's a-apricot filling b-between the layers, a-and the icing is a s-simple b-buttercream r-recipe i've a-always loved. It's d-delicious." It was a magnificent cake, he'd had a lot of time planning the flavors and decorating it. "I h-have some c-cupcakes I m-made w-with the l-left over b-batter and icing, i-if you'd l-like to try it...?" He glanced away from Rabastan while he offered, lowering his voice a little as if he were suggesting something more mischievous than letting him taste the wedding cake ahead of time. His eyes were on a little ice box tucked away under the serving table. "I-It's the one w-with the orange f-filling," he pointed to the right tart on Rabastan's mother's plate, "b-but you s-should eat t-that one l-last. T-Try the s-strawberry rhubarb f-first." Reaching up to Rabastan's shoulder, he gave the man a small tap and his mother's plate moved to hover close by his side. He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves, waiting for him to taste the tarts. As much as Rabastan seemed to appreciate good sweets, he wanted to hear his opinion.

[r-lestrxnge]

The glint in her eyes had already ignited his attention. This witch was as devious as she was beautiful; an old friend, whose mannerisms and tastes were by now predictable. But he hadn't expected that suggestion, though it carved a smirk of opportune proportions across his expression. Her words trailed his skin like sordid honey, sweetly stirring his amusement. Permitting her to pull him forward, he looked down, his laugh fading to a dry chuckle and a dark leer.

"That's the best thing I've heard all night, Sinistra. A pity Alecto didn't ask me herself. But I suppose I'll forgive her, considering the generosity of the invitation." Lowering his eyes from hers, he consumed her figure more brazenly. That flimsy dress really did not leave much to the imagination. He raised a hand, firmly trailing his fingers over her hip to press against her ass, drawing them flush together. "And you wouldn't have asked me if I couldn't," he added as an afterthought, not at all phased by her tease. Leaning forward, he caught her lips with his, congratulating himself on having brought her to this secluded spot away from prying eyes. Not that he would do much more than this. There was no point in spoiling his appetite, after all.

Sinistra was quite intrigued with the offer Alecto laid out earlier, one that did not need long to consider. The night now played on when the three of the would be ready to depart for the evening. Their later activities would be much more enthralling than their current situation. That she was certain of.

The witch turns her body to face his, the tip of her nail travelling down the length of his tie, down the centre of his chest, and hooked around the buckle of his belt, leaning in to whisper sultry in his ear. "She asked me to come home with the both of you." A slight purr to her words, leaning back to gaze up at him with mischief written in her eyes. "I must say, I might be a tad afraid that you won't be able to handle the both of us." A teasing tone laced in her words, knowing fully well be could.

A smirk toys on her painted lips. "What do you think Bas, think you can?"

[r-lestrxnge]

Alice may have schooled the annoyance from her face, but Rabastan was not as diligent. Likewise, this was not an encounter he desired at this point in the evening. He lamented his decision to sit down before studying who else was close-by. Blank acceptance consumed him initially, but as she replied, a flash of anger passed his eyes. He could not care less for her life choices, but having been so frustrated by Aurors tonight, the fact that she was one felt all the more infuriating.

"Aurors at a wedding..." He remained polite, yet cold judgement sliced through his tone. "Quite a contrast to the war, isn't it."

Extending his legs, he crossed one ankle over the other and made himself more comfortable. Observing the witch, he was happy to remain silent. It occurred to him that he could probably dispatch her now, with no one else around, if he so wished. The idea entertained him, raising a faint smile as he permitted the cool air to soothe his mood, mulling over the ways in which he could do it. It was a fanciful imagining, and one he may have been more tempted to enact if this were not Narcissa's day.

Alice internally groaned when she heard his voice. She'd already had a run in with one Lestrange, and well a run in with Rodolphus was enough for anyone. So now to also have to deal with Rabastan. Well, she was wishing that the ground would just swallow her up. Of course that would also get her out of having to deal with any other annoying purebloods. But sadly, she knew that would not be happening, and so she would have to deal with Rabastan.

"Good evening Rabastan" She could be polite, even if she really did not want to be here. She even went to the point of making sure that her face did not look as annoyed as she felt internally. Alice tended to have a bit of a resting bitch face, and that would not be helpful right now.

By the way he was sat on the bench, she figured that this was potentially going to not be a short conversation. Unless she got up to leave, and she was tempted to do that. She just raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think she would be invited to this event? If he did he was as stupid as she remembered. "I'm working as security"

[r-lestrxnge]

Though he was to blind to Oz's true feelings, the sigh was impossible to miss. Oz had endured enough undeserved hardship. Rabastan disliked this reaction, believing wholeheartedly that Oz deserved more. This was supposed to be a new start to his life; he should be living it free from the shadows of the past, looking forward with optimism. "The night's still young," he swiftly replied, mostly because it was a simple fact, but also because he had started to consider who else in his circle could be a potential match for his friend. There were not many he thought good enough.

Yet such things were wiped from his mind with sudden severity. Realisation struck increasingly with each word, though he kept a passive expression tainted only by a mildly present frown. He had never intended to inspire such feelings. His only reassurance was that Oz admitted them with a smile and frank resignation. He valued Oz's friendship intensely, unwilling to lose it or endanger it. Despite what Oz had just told him, he knew he also felt the same way; they had been through too much together for this to challenge them now.

"You are my dearest friend. I'm sorry I can't offer you more," he said eventually and honestly. Oz's happiness was extremely important to him. Pressing a smile to his lips, he was content to follow Oz's lead and move on, though his confession still weighed deeply. He would consider it in more detail later. "I'm afraid it's just the three of us. As far as I know, anyway." Exhaling a wry laugh, he quirked an eyebrow. "I do have cousins. But they are not as dashing as the rest of us."

This was in fact his first drink of the night. It would take far more to get anywhere, as he had been snacking but also he would need more than this. Granted, he did enjoy it, taking his time to enjoy the flute to the fullest.

Oz couldn't help but sigh softly at the words. While coming from Rabastan he knew they meant something, it was hard to see. It seemed that most people didn't quite understand the fact that while he had in fact transitioned his tastes hadn't. "One can only hope. Looks like I'll sadly be going home alone tonight."

The bewilderment made Oz laugh lightly. Oh his sweet best friend was so many things, but it seemed oblivious was in fact one of them. Now, Oz knew that nothing would come out of wanting to enjoy Rabastan in ways that would leave people blushing. It didn't stop crush he had on the other though. "Rabastan, it is a shame because I would love to be in the witches position. I would love to be one of the ones chasing after your heart. However, I am another pureblood man and know that you are looking for a wife." Now, Oz had never actually admitted that to Rabastan but he said it with a smile. "And I know nothing will come out of it. You don't happen to have a secret 4th brother who is just as attractive as the rest of you do you?"

[r-lestrxnge]

Cecelia's charm was a curious thing. Rabastan knew the effect it had on others, yet he remained oblivious to how it affected himself. They had known each other for years, their youths spent distantly until one fateful choice had brought them closer together. He had grown to respect her as a Death Eater and a friend, able to overlook her blood status as he always did with those who supported the cause. If there was something more that claimed his loyal attention, he was not aware of it.

Such was the case now, at the sight of her capturing so many stares. He stifled a laugh, knowing precisely why heads had turned with vaguely glossing eyes. Yet it wasn't mirth that drove him to step beside her; it was a subtly simmering annoyance, a jealousy that crept so quietly he did not hear it at all. He had never liked her profession. This was no different.

"Hello, Cecelia." Halting her with a brief grip to her elbow, he studied her and darkly laughed. "Keep dancing like that and you'll drive half the room into an early grave. Dance with me properly." It was hardly phrased as a question, but she could refuse if she wanted. He would never remove her right to a choice. That had been done far more than enough, much to his disgust.

Cecelia had been hearing for weeks now about the wedding between Malfoy and Black. Her family had been invited to attend the reception, all of them but her. Despite having the same last name as Cedric, people didn’t tend to believe the two of them were siblings, and Cecelia was often left out. She didn’t mind, usually. However, sitting alone on a barstool in a dingy bar in Knockturn Alley had her feeling like dancing, and what better place to dance than at a wedding?

Knowing where Malfoy Manor was, Cecelia apparated near the property, taking a moment to transfigure her clothes into something a little more wedding appropriate. A little red dress likely was against the dress code, but she looked hot and that was all that mattered. Finding an entry at the back with no security guards, she easily walked in as though she was a guest, and made her way on to the dancefloor.

She could already feel the eyes on her, both because her outfit stood out, and because of the Veela charm. More like Veela curse most of the time. But, Cecelia was used to having eyes on her and she didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, she simply began dancing, moving her body with the music. It didn’t take long before somebody came over and decided to join her.

[r-lestrxnge]

"I believe it is," he replied, equally frankly. As he considered Pen, his expression lightened and he arched an eyebrow. "Do you disagree?" Though Rabastan felt he understood Pen in terms of their shared devotion, there was much about them that he did not comprehend. They were still a closed book; or at least, a book whose pages remained to be read. He was intrigued to know how Pen's brain ticked, at the same time recognising that he may not be able to identify with it. That, perhaps, made them all the more interesting.

He definitely hadn't expected the offer of a dance. For a brief second, he studied Pen, considering this gesture with sharp attention. It did not take long to reach his conclusion. He accepted Pen's hand, a grin raking his lips upwards, wickedly thrilled, as they stepped onto the floor.

"You continue to surprise me." The irony was lost on him. Pen was indeed an unexpected choice in partner, yet having already roamed the room from one side to the other, Rabastan had found no one even mildly worth his time. So he gifted it willingly, for Pen deserved it and he enjoyed making his parents boil, if only temporarily. His mother and her witches could wait. Snorting as another couple seemingly scattered out of their way, he continued. "But I'm afraid this was a poor choice of activity if you intended to avoid surveillance. The dancefloor is always watched."

"Is that accurate...?" Pen murmured evenly, sure that most wouldn't consider them to be very charming at all. There were other words they had had in mind when they had dressed for the occasion. Their eyes followed the movement as Rabastan reached to set his empty glass down, returned to him briefly as he spoke, and then followed the subject of his wording across the room to where they could see his parents mingling amongst other older guests. Still glancing back in Rabastan's direction every here or there despite the fact they were clearly engaged in their own conversations as well. "... I see. How exhausting." They were glad that they had avoided any kind of expectations that might have had their parents whispering about them and monitoring their interactions at events like this. They were too frail, would live too short a life to have any marriage arranged for them. Penny loved them too much to expect anything from them that wouldn't make them happy. "Allow me to occupy you for a while, perhaps give you a break from the constant surveillance you seem to be under...?" Leaning forward the slightest bit in their shoulders, they offered him a graceful hand, their head tipping in the direction of the dance floor. By the Lestrange's standards, they were no doubt entirely inappropriate from any angle they might be considered from. Surely they wouldn't be of any interest.

[r-lestrxnge]

She was correct; Greta's efforts were very good. So he joined her, satisfied by his decision to abandon the wedding crowd in favour of sustenance. As she spoke, he observed her, absently musing on how he recalled her as a teenager; scrawny, not worth admiring, and blind to anything except Quidditch. It was remarkable how people could change - for the better, it seemed.

"I think my Quidditch days are over, Emma. But I will live them vicariously through you and the League." He'd never been a proficient player, and neither was he the best at flying. Apparition or floo were far preferable modes of transport - quicker and easier. But he enjoyed the sport from afar, nonetheless. "I remember you were always absorbed by Quidditch. I'm glad you made it your career. It's rare for a dream to become reality. Tell me, how are your brothers, these days?"

"Trust me." Which of course was hard when they barely knew each other. But Emma had tasted a lot of Greta's cheese, and so she felt like she was pretty confident in her view point. "I suppose that is true." The brunette murmured with a laugh. It was part of the reason why she did hate these kind of thing sometimes. She really could not stand gossip that much. Not when it was mean, and just people bitching about each other. Maybe that was why she preferred the company of Kiity, and Greta, and others like them.

"Oh yes." Not for the first time. She'd been in a couple of magazines recently. It was part of the job. But it wasn't why she did what she did. Emma loved quidditch, and would only stay playing if she continued to enjoy it. "It's lovely. I adore it." And she really could not imagine not playing. "You should play some time. It's great"

[r-lestrxnge]

Rabastan stared at the girl, standing as still as the marble statues scattered around the Malfoys' sprawling estate. He considered his words before answering. He could persist normally, continuing to respond with heedless humour. But he decided that would not be worth his time, for she was just as peculiar as he recalled. Therefore, there was no point in reacting in a way she wouldn't understand.

"She did touch me without permission," he indicated frankly, raising his eyes from their study of her body language. She could not have looked more affronted. Though he tried not to laugh, his lips still wryly arched. It was a subtle tease that he knew would go nowhere. But on some level, that made it all the better. "But I accept she did not molest me according to the standard definition. It was a poor joke."

Done with that nonsense, he turned back to the peacocks and the magic that had continued to intrigue him. "And you may call me Rabastan, if we're being informal." Gesturing to the birds, he turned back to her. "That was not an easy spell. You do yourself an injustice by claiming it was. You should take credit for mastering complex magic."

"You can call me Dora or Panda, or Pandora. Which ever you like. We don't need to be so formal." Her attention drifts to the peacocks. "It's easy really. A little bit of concentration and the right words." The spell also worked for a certain radius.

Pandora was horrified that her bowtruckle went rogue, which was out of character for the little creature. She instantly reached for the magical creature that he left hanging in the air. "Don't do that to her." Pickle was tiny and could get hurt easily.

"You were not molested." The witch huffs at him, then looks to Pickle. "You need to behave!" She opens her bag and slides the creature inside, knowing that she'll be fine within and there was more to what she was holding in her hand.

After a moment passed and her arms bridge across her chest. "You should be lucky that she took to you like that. They are shy creatures." Pandora was curious why her Pickle wanted his attention. "Take it back, she did not molest you." Her eyes narrow at him.