#rlestrcnge

[ofxsorcery]

A letter to @r-lestrcnge

Dear Rab,

I do hope you receive this letter and actually read this as well. First of all, I hope you are well. And I hope Alecto and the little ones are well too, she must be getting very close now. I saw your wife at St. Mungo’s the other day.

It seems that I am able to ramble on paper as much as I am able to do so in person when I don’t know how to say things.

All I can do is hope that you are willing to listen. I know I have done something perceived as unforgivable by many. But all I have done in the end, is following my heart. I needed to choose my own happiness after having ignored it for years. But despite this choice, I do miss my old life. I miss my brother. I miss you, my other friends that I no longer have.

So where I know that Lucius would not even read this letter, let alone open it. I’m hoping you will.

Like I said; I miss you and I hope you are okay. And I hope we can talk.

Love, Cressida.

[valeria-flint]

Starter for @r-lestrcnge

It wasn’t a situation that happened a lot to Val. She was used to working behind the scenes and not like this. But she was happy with the change in pace. It was a way of letting go of her frustrations about everything. The anger towards her parents, the frustration of becoming an outcast it seemed. The poor man was the one at the end of that frustration. Poison was usually her pick in weapon but her wand was a good pick of choice right now.

Val was happy with the fact that she got to do this together with Rabastan. Someone she trusted, someone who could be just as conflicted as her. The man tied to the chair was currently a subject in the background, as she spoke to her friend. “He doesn’t seem to be breaking anytime soon. Why is it again that they thought he would be a good one to have as a safe house?”

[notdelicatc]

who: @r-lestrcnge where: Venice, Italy when: late morning

The wedding had come and gone, leaving impressions both good and bad. Some of which she didn't even want to think about. There was the sad truth she'd always known would one day come to pass. It had never not been apart of her plans. A future so clear, how could one not prepare? And yet there was the reality that when it had happened she hadn't been ready for it at all. Still, she'd manage to laugh it off and celebrate the wedding just fine with the rest.

Italy had almost been a saving light in the dark in that moment. The very moment she'd set foot into her apartment had been like waking up from a nightmare Emmeline now knew to be her life. Time would make things better, but until then said time would have to pass. How covenient it had been to hear Rabastan request to speak with her about some matters beyond just the Dolohov situation. That had been a no brainer; no questions needed to be asked or answered. If her friend needed her then she would be there. No matter what.

For a while now she'd stood on the balcony overlooking the Canal Grande, just allowing the sun and wind to play with her hair. Emmeline didn't want anything other than to stand there and do nothing, to not think about the past few days. A sound behind her caused her to speak up, unsure as to the cause and somehow not caring all that much.

"At least the weather is on our side. Lucky." Still, the witch didn't turn around to face the other. For now she'd keep her eyes locked on the buzzing streets of Venice. "You said you wanted to talk about something?" No better place like this one.

[fcrox]

who: @r-lestrcnge where: rabastan's home, foyer when: evening hours thread counter: 001

Whether reality or simple illusion, the brilliance of it remained all the same. There was something regal and ancient about the place, sophisticated and yet not all that full of life. It held class, no denying there. No would Rita ever have dared to consider the mere notion. The soft sounds of a piano still playing in her ears from the home of hers she’d left behind, she’d been sitting, listening to the idle chatter of a certain portrait. Rabastan’s home certainly held a charm not many could match for reasons all together unique.

How many times had the witch found herself in the same spot? Waiting for the master of the house or the house elf to come pick her up. It wasn’t surprising to receive an owl with an invitation nor did she mind it. No, quite the opposite. Each time the younger Lestrange had summoned her it had been for good reason and never something she wished to deny the other.

The witch found herself humming along to the tune still playing within her ears, eyes almost glued to the portrait hanging there. The oddity with a reason, bringing much delight whenever she found herself wating. Nowhere else was the entertainment when waiting quite so filled with the bickering and gossiping of a portrait. A delighted chuckle made itself known to the room, yet nowhere near loud enough to cause those within the painting to stop whatever they were doing. No, that was done by something else. Or rather someone. “There you are! It’s good to see you, Rabastan.”

[ofxsorcery]

Ros looked over her shoulder at the backroom he mentioned. “Not really, I think the cook might be able to handle it all himself. Unless you want to offer to help him cook. That is if you ever cooked yourself in your entire life.” He probably had a house elf looking after him and the family for all those years. Offering for him to go back there was rather dangerous, but there were still layers of protection there hiding the extra room. And it was not noticeable that there was a room hidden there.

The woman grabbed a firewhiskey for Rabastan as she looked at the front door. People were starting to try to get out but there were also people on the other side of the door, luckily for her. All she could hope for now, was that the people on the outside were quick to make sure the door was unblocked. She placed the glass in front of him on the bar.

“Here you go, on the house. For the trouble of being locked in,” she said to him, her voice sickly sweet as she said so. As if it was faith, after she had spoken those words, the front door opened up again and people walked in, drenched from the rain but happy to find shelter.

“Now, if you don’t mind. I have to make sure that the door won’t get blocked again. My colleague over there will see you out after you’re done with that firewhiskey.” Time to get Lestrange out of there.

He was unaffected by Rosmerta's surprise, aside from the vague recognition that her expression made her look like an idiotic goldfish. It was hardly exaggeration if it were true - which it was. Surely even this infuriating witch knew the difference. He wholeheartedly believed that she understood the legal implications, but having stated his intention he could not be bothered to debate with her about anything else. On her own head be it, if the other patrons saw fit to object. He hoped they did. A little contained riot would make this whole sorry ordeal worth his while. He was not against instigating one.

Since she was usually so vocal, the mere fact that she remained silent confirmed his suspicion. This was not merely a case of protecting one's possessions. There was more to it. So he raised his eyebrows in mirrored indication, still aware of the sounds drifting from the backroom between the storm's heavy thunder claps.

"Does something need your attention back there, Abbott?" In the pause that followed, a couple moved to the front door and proceeded to rattle it. He didn't turn, remaining exactly where he sat, willing to witness how quickly the mood could change in the currently affable room. "Very well. I will have a firewhisky." He deserved it for his trouble. Behind him, the witch with her hand on the door attempted an unbolting charm. It backfired, earning yelps from both sides of the building; others had gathered on the outside in the rain, hoping to shelter inside.

[notdelicatc]

who: @r-lestrcnge where: the manor when: afternoon

Days had turned to weeks had turned to months. At some point the witch had been left with instructions and requests, had handled cases and things in the shop on her own but always remained in contact with her friend. The brunette didn’t mind. In fact, she’d rather enjoyed making sure that the wizard in question would have enough time and space to take care of the things that mattered. It left her feeling useful, appreciated and in turn allowed a chance to show her own appreciation. Emmeline thrived off that, at least when it came to the people she cared about.

Her foot bopped up at down as she sat comfortably in an armchair in the entry hall, glancing over as the door finally opened. “There you are.” A smile, warm in comparison to most; the type reserved for people like Rabastan. Emmeline noted the small differences, even though they may have only been differences in her eyes. “Fatherhood suits you.” Perhaps that was all it was, fatherhood. Still, the witch couldn’t help but be curious. Long steps moved until she finally stood in front of him. “So, are you two getting enough sleep by now?” Oh, how she had missed them. Letters or not, they were not quite the same.

[valeria-flint]

Starter for: @r-lestrcnge Location: A corridor away from the gala

Growing up in the Pureblood community meant one thing; you grew up visiting a lot of parties and gala's. And Val's limit on enjoying a gala like this from the Ministry was very, very low. But she was expected to show from her father.

So instead of moving around the busy Atrium, she had stolen a bottle of champagne at the catering and had found Rabastan to make sure that it would be empty by the end of the night and the company was pleasant too.

"Do you think we will ever be able to get out from under our parents' influence when it comes to these stupid things and just decide by ourselves if we want to attend these gala's or not?"

[ofxsorcery]

Starter for: Cressida Malfoy & Rabastan Lestrange ( @r-lestrcnge ) Location: Formal gathering at the Ministry

For the entire night, Cressida had been bothered by a bit older employee from the Ministry. A man who could not take a hint because she had been trying to get rid of him for a majority of the evening now. He was clingy and he was showing way too much interest in her and the blonde just wanted to get out of there. She wanted to get out early, telling her parents that she was returning home early, so she could sneak over to Tib's place instead. But so far... That was not going to happen.

Cressida nodded slowly as if she was listening to what the man was telling her, when her eyes caught a familiar appearance near her. Rabastan Lestrange. Someone who she had been once so familiar with but only was acquainted with now. But the look in her eyes said enough when she finally caught his attention; please help me.

[ofxsorcery]

Cressida had seen Rabastan moved through the crowd and keep to himself. Something she had preferred to do as well, but unfortunately as the sister of the groom, she had been unable to do so. Finally she had been able to move herself away from a family member she hadn't even recognised. And hadn't seen in a very, very, very long time. And it was time for some alcohol now. Where once more she had found Rabastan.

"And mister Lestrange, how are you enjoying the wedding so far?" She asked her friend, picking up a glass of champagne as well before taking a large sip of the liquid. "How many long lost family members have you bumped into already?" She asked him, sarcasm not lost on her voice.

Open Starter: please, starting with 1x character per RPer! (feel free to DM if you'd like more!) Where: the Malfoy/Black wedding When: flexible

As a child, Rabastan had loathed weddings. They were far too noisy, too crowded, and pointless. Times had changed - at least to a certain extent. He didn't mind them so much, these days. He recognised the importance of the ceremonies; the joining of two families, committed to each other for the benefit of their futures. But most of all, they were generally decent affairs, with worthy company and excellent surroundings. The best families did so enjoy trying to outshine one another. He'd expected nothing less from the Malfoys and the Blacks, and they had not disappointed. It was simply a pity that they had chosen to marry in the middle of a war. Some might think it unwise or indecorous; Rabastan merely thought it inconvenient. He could have been elsewhere, doing something more valuable for the cause. But he was happy for the couple - his friends - and he committed himself to making sure their day proceeded smoothly.

Presently, he'd taken residence beside the alcohol, where he'd helped himself to a glass of champagne. Since no one required him, he was content to linger quietly alone, though he scanned the surroundings and observed the other guests as they milled around.

[fcrox]

Ambition, her own goals and a path that she was willing to go whether through comfort or the thickest of mud; Estelle was sure to make it no matter what. Enlisting the help of Rabastan was both her way of showing him that she trusted the wizard in question as well as her own way of confirming a loyalty that was never spoken with words. No, nothing could say quite as much as the actions an individual was willing to take to make it to where they felt they belonged. Palaces were not built entirely out of the sheer imagination. Dreams were meant to motivate, not do the work without any effort ever given to the task at hand.

The blonde chuckled, nodding along at the words coming from the other. “Perhaps I do transform the world around me. I wouldn’t know. I only know what I’ve done all my life and somehow, it’s come in rather handy, wouldn’t you say?” Her shoulders moved, shrugging almost rhythmically. Delicate yet strong. Her attention shifted back to the goblet, allowing herself to keep the copy of the cup before slender fingers handed back what was rightfully his. Rabastan would need not fear her having switched the cups.

“If you don’t mind, I shall leave you to your side of things while I go ahead and do some research. I do believe there are plenty of goblin texts and I have rather good connections with some goblin associates.” She smiled. Yes, it did come in rather handy to keep those around who were of another kind. “If I find out anything I will let you know immediately. Keep an eye out for my owl. You wouldn’t want to miss having all three.” If her translations were correct and her suspicions able to pay up their meaning in galleons then Rabastan would soon be the owner of some valuable artifacts.

“I will be in touch.” A nod as she moved to get up. “Please do give my regards to your father. Your family.” And with that she disappeared from the café. - @r-lestrcnge

- The End.

Rabastan neither devalued her suggestion nor underestimated its potential. There were others already weaving webs within the Ministry. Manipulators and corrupters were planted strategically, as well as emerging naturally as more joined the Dark Lord's cause. But it would be quite something to have a spy close to the Minister himself. Rabastan knew Estelle to be a clever and charming witch. With the right introductions, she could surely pursue and ensure her own success. He did not want her merely to become a puppet. He knew that she could thrive in such a position. If she desired, she could turn herself into an asset.

As she expanded on her request, he grew more satisfied. He hadn't doubted that she'd understood its significance, yet it was pleasing to hear those dedicated words cross her lips. Holding her darkly mischievous stare, he realised that she could be a dangerous force. Perhaps he'd underestimated her potential, seeing only charm and beauty, not what lay obscured beneath. He would certainly make amends for such an oversight. Having no qualms about her integrity or her honesty, he fully intended to assist her to the best of his ability. His father's support would surely be the way to proceed. He resolved to discuss it with him as soon as possible.

"Not everyone is built for warfare, Estelle," he replied frankly, before turning away to add the cream and jam to the scone. "If you would hesitate to harm the man or those close to him, I would make the limitation known from the outset. For some, these things are unpalatable. As you say, it would be a great benefit merely to have someone trustworthy within that office. It is not a worry, simply a query that requires a factual answer - one which you have now given me."

Upon taking a bite of the scone, he was distracted by the duplication and lightly laughed, wiping his fingers as he sat back and considered her again. "Yes, I suppose you do transform the world around you, don't you? In more ways than overt spells like that one-" Gesturing to the second goblet, he arched an eyebrow, both dismissive and amused. "I'm afraid not. I only found one. Does the first goblet give any clues to the whereabouts of the others?"

[fcrox]

Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. That was always an option, right? After all, the witch had been out and about in this rather doom and gloom alley, searching for what seemed to be nothing but a ghost. Only to run into yet another ghost it seemed. For weeks she’d found herself frustrated with her own incompetence and the same time utterly in refusal to bend and deny anyone else the kindness she had shown the other that day. But was it truly him? The thought sent shivers down her spine in ways that words could not even describe. Discomfort was growing and Hestia no longer wished to be near the other.

“No, thank you. I’m fine. I think it’s best I come back another day.” This felt like she was running from the nightmare right in front of her. Then again, there was always a chance that she was wrong, right? No matter what, the shivers still present seemed proof that her entire being was in shock, denying her every chance to pretend that this was simply a coincidence. Then again, was it ever? Rabastan Lestrange had, for as long as Hestia had known the other, been an individual of high intellect. If anyone could use such means to loom over another, surely it would be someone like him?

Hestia took a step back. “Should you hear from this individual, please notify me. A simple owl to the ministry will do.” While this felt like running, the former Hufflepuff was all too glad to get away. Besides, if her conclusion was to be correct, she doubted the other would be sending over any information, nor the individual behind the propaganda. It was a dead end of a whole other kind. “I suppose I’ll see you around.” And yet she did not bother to wait for an answer, forsaking politeness in order to simply get away. - @r-lestrcnge

There it was. The delicious emergence of a precious fear. It stirred his thirst for power, igniting a self-satisfied pride that swelled beneath his passive surface. If she looked close enough, she could perhaps have seen that misdirected warmth. But he kept his enthusiasm at bay. He restricted it to merely knowing, his thrill silent and invisible. Now was not the time to play upon this newly discovered control. Encouraging her panic would serve no purpose. On the contrary, it would be disadvantageous.

So he simply moved his eyes over her retreating figure, indulgently observing her alarm. He noted her expression. Revelling subtly in its open horror, he met her searching stare with eyes of cold intensity.

"I simply mean that I would not like to see this alley destroyed," he elaborated, the statement true but its purpose false. "I know that most dislike it, but it is historic and does have a charm of its own. There are many businesses and homes here." Pressing a smile to his lips, he then permitted a frown to colour his expression. He lowered his gaze to the poster now crumpled in her grip, before glancing back up again. "Are you unwell, Miss Jones? You are welcome to sit in the shop for a while, if you need a moment."

[notdelicatc]

The intuition that carried her, that allowed her path to be the way that it was and at times to rise above things. It didn’t come from her father, that much was for sure. For all his admirable qualities, intuition wasn’t one. Perhaps at times a bit of foolish make-belief; she couldn’t tell. The one thing she knew for certain was that her mother’s side was far from the one to grant her that one, so perhaps it was her own gift after all? Emmeline turned her head, facing Rabastan with the hint of a smirk hiding away in the corner of her mouth yet ever so slightly visible. Just enough to give her amusement away before she threw caution to the wind to laugh. “As do you.” Unsurprisingly. Rabastan didn’t need compliments, surely, but they would be given when needed.

“I have. It was the first thing I did when I got here. I donated a rather generous sum to a fund for centaurs. And a little sum for a project regarding the curse-breaking department. It’s so much nicer when you get to decide where exactly your galleons go, isn’t it?” A laugh, short as it was. “I doubt they will be storming the capitol anytime soon so what’s the harm.” Between the two of them, centaurs were not lacking in respect from her should she actually come face to face with them and yet the witch had a dire need to remain as far as she could. Something about the powers of divination and knowledge of the world unnerved her. Things were easier this way. This was their world, that one over there was theirs. At times it was better to remain separate.

Emmeline turned toward the bar, finally picking up the drink the person behind it had placed for her before her attention shifted, a scan of the room and her eyes were back on Rabastan. There was a fire, like a hidden flame that would light up whenever he was in the picture, like the one person to understand the mischievous dedication to all things, the art behind it. “Are you enjoying yourself? This isn’t unlike the things we’re used to but there is something odd about my employer being the one to host it.” Not that she would ever do so, but it was silly to think that a misstep in the wrong direction could get her or anyone fired. A whole selection of people, all on their best behavior. “I’m honestly surprised by half the guests. Some make sense but really, what are half of these people even doing here?” -@r-lestrcnge

Mingling with the masses was not Rabastan's idea of enjoyable recreation. Yet here he was, fulfilling the duty without overt complaint. It was important to cultivate a presence within the Ministry. It was prudent to appear at these functions so that the lower ranks did not forget their superiors. So he conversed politely and smiled with good grace, despite the annoyance that bristled through his veins.

Excusing himself from a lengthy conversation about some charity or other, he stepped decisively towards Emmeline. His eyes had been sweeping the room, observing who was attending; he had spotted her swiftly and did not require a reason to elect her company.

"Good evening to you too, Emmeline," he drawled, amused. Stepping within her sight, he was not surprised by her intuition. She was a skilled witch and their line of work required a heavy reliance on instinct. "You look very nice." A brief smile, a light compliment. Then his expression darkened slyly. "Keep a good hold on your purse. The vultures are out for gold. I hope you donated generously on the door, otherwise they will soon be swooping in."

[fcrox]

No words were needed to explain the situation at hand further, nor the words he had chosen in turn. No, Estelle understood the situation quite as much as any other witch with a good head or her shoulders. “Well, we both know I like to play a certain type of game.” Namely the one she had been playing for as long as she could think. “My brother sends his regards. I fear you and him may share your views on the matter at hand.” The crowd inside was bursting with those lesser than them. If not for the fact that both people in question were quidditch stars, celebrated for more than their blood, perhaps they would have stood a chance to keep things a bit more civilized. Alas, luck had no been on their side.

“He has not, but from the look on your face I can tell that was hardly a surprise.” There was a smile, soft as much as it was polite. “I won’t be asking what happened to cause it, as it is none of my business.” The blonde allowed her eyes to scan the surrounding area as she leaned against the stone wall in front of her. “I have taken a few measures of my own.” Befriending those below her yet placed so very neatly within departments that could help. “I very much hope I won’t have to for too long.” A chuckle. The idea seemed almost mad. - @r-lestrcnge

Joining Estelle did not take much thought, and neither did it detract from his aim. He'd wanted fresh air, indeed. A chance to refresh his lungs, removing the sour taste that came from spending far too long among the rabble. So he smiled languidly, the curve to his lips fading swiftly in the rising moonlight. "I found the atmosphere rather poor on the other side of the room, my dear." She'd know what he meant. Most of the purebloods had congregated together - the better ones, at least. The ones who understood that a firm and merciless division of status was required. "Though I did see you mingling. I don't know how you can stomach it, but for the good of a mask. I lack the patience for playing such games, tonight."

Truth be told, this was a fortuitous encounter. It had been some time since Estelle had requested his assistance. He was loathe to acknowledge that she'd fallen from his thoughts, for the last months had proven too demanding even for him. His time had been taken by his own life affairs and by a ferocious attention to the war. However, he'd put motions into place for her at the time. Looking at her now, he wondered whether any had come to fruition. "I did discuss your interest with my father," he told her. "He said he would help you. Did he?" He should perhaps have known the answer himself. But he had not yet renewed good speaking terms with his parents. They had never been a warm or friendly family. But he had lately shunned them completely, bearing an iron grudge that was only now beginning to fade.

[fcrox]

If it could be said of anyone that their mere presence intrigued her, it was Rabastan Lestrange. The fact that he seemed to understand the meaning of her words, the way she had perfectly laid them out to have meaning only to those who would need to know, would need to understand yet seemed like the most flattering of compliments when given to an oblivious soul. The blonde couldn’t help but admire the sheer intellect that lay hidden behind those blue eyes. Still, the witch knew herself to be a match of wits when it came to things such as this. An amused chuckle, the gasp like breath that mixed with the sound. “Oh, I cannot make you something you are not, Mr Lestrange.” A formality, held to be kept that way.

Only if he were to permit it would she venture further. Until then she’d keep her distance, dance around him in the way she had thus far. Her shoulders move, expression one of selective innocence. “I give compliments only where they are meant to be given. I can assure you there are far too many weeds in the grander garden we’re all in.” The ministry, of course. It was a garden so very full of weeds. “Eventually someone will take to pruning said garden. And wouldn’t you say a garden properly pruned and freed of weeds is all the better for it?”

Estelle raised the glass to her lips. Despite the half-closed state of her eyes the room around her remained within her vision, hazel orbs never quite leaving the events around her to their own devices. No, the witch loved to meddle far too much. Not once did she miss the way the other would look. Not that she minded, nor would she have dared to distract him from what kept his attention. “More so than you might realize.” For a moment it seemed as though her eyes became darker, with a passion that could hardly ever be found. “There are rumors spreading about just how little control the ministry has. Not just within the ministry itself. Beyond the borders of this country. Rumors, that is all. But sometimes that is all it will take.” Rumors held power because of the words within them. People seemed to underestimate the strength within the right selection of words and the impact they could bring. With that she tipped her glass against Rabastan’s, a toast of sorts. Once more she switched back to a language shared by most within the room. “To a garden restored to its glory and beauty.” And with that she vanished into the crowd, leaving behind an air of delicate mischief. - @r-lestrcnge

- The End.

He should have known that she'd have some motive behind those words, uttered so casually but evidently well-considered. But that was precisely the point: he did not know her well. Yet the longer he spent in her presence - as limited as it had been so far - the more charming he found her. This was a witch who understood the games in play, and what was involved in navigating them. It was a valuable skill these days, when allegiances and trust were pushed to their limits. One had to be a chameleon, able to blend with all sides in order to thrive. This inconvenience would not last long; Rabastan had no doubt that the war would soon end, with victory for the side that mattered most.

"You flatter me, Estelle. At this rate, you shall make me quite the narcissist." Amused by the compliment, he faintly smiled and allowed his gaze to roam her expression. Truly a beauty. He did not look away as the colour spread, casting proof of her pleasure across flawless porcelain. It was not in his nature to permit feminine privacy; he was a man who would look upon what he wished, for it was his right to do so. Arrogance was gifted through not only name and status, but through his simple right as a man. He would wield the authority granted by nothing but his gender, and he would do it without a second thought.

As he accepted the glass, he thanked her and bitterly laughed. "Anything to deny the war that wages on. But it cannot be ignored for much longer." Studying the witch once more, he raised the glass to his lips. "They do not want to acknowledge that the Ministry is weak. It will not survive."

[valeria-flint]

Val chuckled softly when Rabastan pointed out that he had known what he had been doing. "I think I will stick to the fact... You've made your own bed, you had to lay in it." Maybe not something that he wanted to hear but it was true and honest. "But despite it happening... It is good to know. A power like this is dangerous when you don't know about it. We can get ahead of her like this. Which is a good thing. I'm sorry you had to be the test subject, however." Strategic thinking was something both of them were able to do.

"Too charming... I guess so. Normally it is a good thing, but just make sure you don't get blindsided by it again." She watched how he looked at the clock and she scrunched her nose at what he was about to be doing. "Good luck, Rab. Just don't jinx the old fools in your frustrations, and you'll be fine. Just remember you are stronger than them and as that Beausejour girl. And payback will be served."

/ The End.

"No, the spell had lifted," he replied, leaning back and turning his head towards her. Studying Val, he searched her features for a response, knowing he could be honest. She was one of his truest friends. He had no desire for secrecy. "Think me reckless, if you wish. But I knew what I was doing." A pause, then he wryly added, "At that point, anyway."

Pushing the coffee cup back onto the table, he couldn't help but ruefully laugh. "So I am too charming? I suppose I should be flattered." Truly feeling weary, he looked again at the clock and mourned the rest of the day ahead. "I must go to the Ministry, Val. Wish me luck, for I do not have the energy to entertain those shrivelled old fools. I have wasted this day away. It's very frustrating."

[ofxsorcery]

No matter how charming the smile, Ros did not believe a thing of the fact that it was only innocent topics for the group in the corner. "Quidditch isn't really my thing," was all that the woman said before motioning in the direction of the corner once more. "And I would say I have better things to do." Like actually working. And making sure that no one would find out that the room in the back was a safehouse to the Order. "Enjoy your Quidditch conversations." The tone of her voice was clear; she did not believe anthing of they talking about Quidditch.

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."