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There was something almost theatrical about sitting outside the Three Broomsticks like this, children in tow and smiles barely stitched together. But Alecto understood. Rabastan didn’t let go of suspicions once they took root. She respected that, his relentlessness, the quiet obsession he wrapped around truth like a vice. It was part of what made him dangerous. It was part of what made him hers.

She kept her expression flat as the barmaid hovered, cooing like a fool at the children. Asteria watched with innocent curiosity, but Alecto’s hand remained firm around her small waist, silent, steady. She said nothing, only watched with dead eyes until the woman left.

Her gaze shifted back to her husband, watching the way he moved, precise, focused, methodical as ever. She knew that look in his eye. “You’ll figure it out,” she said simply. She meant it. Then, after a pause, her tone turned dry. “Dumbledore wants a word with me. Asked that I bring the babies.” She scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Like I’m meant to parade them around for his benefit.”

Starter for: Alecto Lestrange @alectocarrowx Where: outside the Three Broomsticks When: midday

Rabastan hadn't believed a word that came out of Rosmerta Abbott's infuriating lips the last time they'd spoken. So he'd kept an eye on the pub and its activities, or as much as he could do between everything else. On the whole, he'd let it go. He did not believe her stupid enough to continue anything suspicious, and he'd had more pressing matters to attend. Placing heavy attention here would be a waste of effort. But that didn't mean he'd stopped completely.

Dragging Alecto and the twins out, he'd decided to put his family to good use and had situated them outside on a bench while he surreptitiously checked the enchantments placed on the building. Stopping halfway through his examination as a barmaid approached with their drinks, he adjusted his hold of Rhad and tolerated the witch's attention as she made inane gurgling noises at the poor child. The sacrifices they all made. He smiled, insincerely. Then once she'd left, he resumed, his son balanced in one arm, while he cast several darker spells towards the kitchen.

"Still nothing." It was what he expected. So he reached for his drink and pushed Rhad's hand away from the cold glass. "Have you heard anything from Dumbledore, recently?"

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Alecto arched a brow at the mention of the sock man and she said nothing. If she wanted details, she'd ask Rabastan herself later.

She took a quiet sip of her tea. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It gave her time to take in the familiar walls, so many memories lingered here, selective ones.

“It’s always interesting, seeing what’s been changed,” she said, settling back into her seat. “And what’s been left untouched.” Her gaze lingered on him for a beat. “You’ll have to come to the new manor for dinner sometime. Meet the twins.”

“That’s between me and the dungeon, although I’m sure Rabastan has already told you everything about the sock man.” His voice dropped a bit but besides the name he didn’t speak more of the subject sitting down and sipping his tea.  It was part of the design that he had all chairs equal not out of some sense of egality, but so he could sit anywhere without feeling lesser, the slight difference in comfort he had told himself would be a trap for others or a small reward for himself. “Yes I find it suits me, though I could adapt to whatever environs it’s good to have one I can mold to my own ends if subtly.”

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Alecto’s expression softened, just barely, at the mention of her children. It was rare to hear someone speak of her and Rabastan without the usual suspicion or edge, and even rarer for her to accept it without biting back. But Evelyn had a way of saying things that didn’t feel like flattery, they felt true. “They’ll be strong,” she said simply. “And they’ll never have to question who they are, or where they stand.”

Her gaze lingered on Evelyn as she set her glass down, watching the way curiosity sparked behind her smirk. That was what Alecto admired, sharpness, ambition, the quiet thrill of a challenge accepted without hesitation.

A slow grin pulled at her lips. “We leave tomorrow morning. We need to be in Florence for tomorrow night's Gala. The ledger is rumoured to move soon afterwards.” She reached for a sealed envelope tucked under a book on the side coffee table and slid it across the table. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Names, locations, wards to expect.”

She stood, moving down on the blanket where the twins laid. “Italy is beautiful,” she said with a dark glint in her eye. “Let’s leave our mark on it.”

Evelyn laughed at the idea of family life, of being a dutiful wife and mother as some sort of fairy tale. "I never bought the idea that it was wonderful. Marriage, children, it always seemed such a nightmare to me." She lifted her own glass to take a drink before shrugging. "I do love Blaise, but raising a child is exhausting." Her lips twitched into a smile and she nodded in agreement. "He has all he needs, his father was a weak excuse for a man and wizard. He does not need that." She glanced to Alecto. "Just as your children will be a force to reckon with, between you and Rabastan there is no doubt about how strong they will be."

The witch set her glass aside as Alecto's tone shifted, her curiosity piqued as she turned her full attention on her. She arched an eyebrow, a smirk rising to her lips. "I've always enjoyed Italy, it is rather beautiful. And it certainly wouldn't hurt to have two capable witches there to make sure it is secured." She ran her fingers along the rim of her glass. "When do we leave?"

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Her eyes stayed on Rabastan as he spoke, brow furrowed not in disagreement, but in thought. She could see the frustration in his posture, the weariness in his voice, and she didn’t mock it. When he finished, she let out a quiet breath, leaning back into the cushions beside him. “I won’t tell her,” she said finally, her voice softer than usual, almost thoughtful. “Merlin knows she’d tear half the country apart trying to prove you wrong.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “And maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s smarter than we gave him credit for.” Words she didn't want to truly believe.

She raised her glass, taking a moment to ponder, before finishing the contents. “Either way, we’ve done what we can. You’re right. It’s time to let it go, at least for tonight.” Alecto set her glass down with a quiet clink and pushed herself up from the couch, stretching her arms with a low sigh. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep before tomorrow gives us another mess to clean up.” There was hope for some sleep before the twins stirred.

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Her eyes stayed on Rabastan as he spoke, brow furrowed not in disagreement, but in thought. She could see the frustration in his posture, the weariness in his voice, and she didn’t mock it. When he finished, she let out a quiet breath, leaning back into the cushions beside him. “I won’t tell her,” she said finally, her voice softer than usual, almost thoughtful. “Merlin knows she’d tear half the country apart trying to prove you wrong.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “And maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s smarter than we gave him credit for.” Words she didn't want to truly believe.

She raised her glass, taking a moment to ponder, before finishing the contents. “Either way, we’ve done what we can. You’re right. It’s time to let it go, at least for tonight.” Alecto set her glass down with a quiet clink and pushed herself up from the couch, stretching her arms with a low sigh. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep before tomorrow gives us another mess to clean up.” There was hope for some sleep before the twins stirred.

Handing a glass to Alecto, he filled his own to the brim and wasted no time in taking a hefty gulp. He was unsettled. He disliked lacking facts. He wanted results. Tonight's discoveries were vague, but they were at least illuminating. Alecto may have considered it a waste of time, but Rabastan would disagree. He had learned more about Regulus Black in the last hour than he'd done through months of working with him.

"He certainly wore a good poker face," he mustered, having stood there momentarily glaring at Alecto as she continued. He was not frustrated with her, merely with the situation and its seeming impossibility. "Some foolish, noble idea, perhaps. Or maybe he was afraid. He wanted to prove himself, desperately, I think. He may have overreached." Topping up his glass, he moved to sit beside his wife, sinking comfortably into the lavish cushions. It was not easy to say his next words. He did not give up easily. But he was practical and would not permit his heart to railroad him into fruitless endeavours, when there were so many other duties that could benefit from his attention. This was war. War had casualties. "The problem is we're running out of leads. Where else can we search, after this? He has disappeared from the face of the earth. We are clutching at straws. Do not tell Bellatrix, but part of me wonders if he doesn't want to be found."

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Alecto was, for once, content to be home. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she shrugged off her robes and let them fall into the waiting arms of the house-elf who appeared without a word. “We’re uncovering quite a bit about dear Regulus,” she said flatly, her tone edged with irritation. “None of it particularly helpful.” Another night wasted, and still no sign of him.

She moved to stand behind her husband as he poured their drinks, claiming one of the glasses with a fluid motion before settling into the couch, one leg draped over the other with practiced grace. “He had to have a reason for keeping this from us,” she muttered, her voice laced with disdain. “Some foolish idea he thought noble, no doubt. But to put his family through this…” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s tearing the Blacks apart.”

She took a long sip, letting the scotch burn down her throat. “I’m tired of chasing shadows. We need more than whispers and half-truths. We need a real lead, something solid. No more of these games.” Hope starting to fade.

Rabastan did not interrupt. There was no need. They'd struck the truth and opened a floodgate. He did not doubt the honesty in the old wizard's words, seeing it in his eyes and in his actions. So he stood in silence, observing and absorbing. He would need to consider everything in detail, before making his own judgement. But it seemed that Regulus had either wanted to harm someone else, or to prevent it from befalling him. He didn't know what tasks the Dark Lord had assigned to the young man, only aware of what they'd worked on together. Some things were always secret. But Regulus was young and inexperienced. Rabastan doubted he'd been doing anything too essential or too dangerous.

Permitting Alecto to leave, he remained in the apothecary and paid for the tonics with a pouch of gold. He placed it weightily in the old man's palm, its galleons far more than the potions were worth. They may need to return in the future. It didn't hurt to pay for information, when the investment could yield further results.

Then he joined his wife on the cobbles and they disapparated, landing in their dining room in a swirl of black robes and chilly air. From upstairs, the sound of a mechanical nursery rhyme could be heard, the children most likely settling down for the night. Placing the potions onto the table, he removed his cloak and threw it haplessly over the back of a chair.

"I thought I knew Regulus, Alecto. I thought he trusted me." Waving his wand, a cupboard opened and he summoned a bottle of scotch into his hand. It was followed by two glasses. "It troubles me that he may have been in danger but said nothing. Or that he may have been attempting some kind of poisonous research alone. We must tell Rodolphus and Bellatrix. But no one else. If he was wary, perhaps he had good reason and the cause is in our midst."

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Alecto knew he’d never cross that line. As fierce as her own temper could be, his had always been the more dangerous of the two. “Good to know,” she replied coolly, her expression unreadable.

“The second guest?” she echoed, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Whoever it was, she hadn’t been expecting company. “I’m glad the house is suiting you. I’m sure, in time, you’ll uncover all her little secrets.” Except one, there was still that hidden room she hadn’t shown him.

She reached for her tea, fingers curling around the cup. “Have you brought anyone into the dungeon yet?” Her voice was casual, almost fond. There were parts of those days she couldn’t help but miss.

“If I was going to poison you, you would know it.”  Pointless words but they amused him especially while he was brewing tea for the two of them.  How would he do it if he was going to.  Likely leave it to someone else, or poison both cups he had been thinking about poisoning himself for so long, surviving it was really the hard part. “The house is treating me well, I have enjoyed its solitude, really you are only the second guest I have had and the first to invite themselves.”  She could hear his smile from the other room and was only proved right once he appeared with two cups of tea offering one to her.

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Alecto arched a brow at the response, the corners of her mouth twitching with faint amusement. "People often mistake luck for endurance," she remarked, her voice smooth as she stepped further into the room. "Though I imagine a touch of both never hurts." She didn’t sit. "I won’t stay long," she said, though her tone made it sound more like a courtesy than a certainty. Her gaze flicked briefly to the twins, sleeping soundly in their carriage, before returning to Serra. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I have been told that I was lucky." She did not like admitting weakness, especially to someone as intimidating as Alecto Carrow. There was something about her that made Serra wary to let her guard down. She had never liked showing that she did not feel well as she did not want that to be used against her. Unless she leaned into the dramatics and the optics of it to get pity or attention from people, if she planned a bout of fatigue for example it was entirely different to fainting out of the blue and perhaps hurting herself in the process. "You can stay for a bit, I appreciate the company." Lie, but it was the polite thing to say.

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Alecto gave a low, amused hum. “Yes, well, the most important thing about a nanny is discretion. Especially in our circles.” Her eyes gleamed faintly. "She will do for now." Until she became a problem.

The frown that crossed Val’s face at the mention of eligible bachelors drew a small smirk from Alecto, one that held equal parts mischief and sympathy. “Ah, escape routes. Always essential. That might be your best option for the night." It didn't hurt being prepared.

At the last part, Alecto let out a low chuckle. “The whole idea is unnerving, truly.” Had it not been for Rabastan, she doubted she ever would have entertained the notion of marriage, now, she couldn’t imagine life without it. Still, she added with a knowing smirk, “You can only outrun it for so long." Eventually, even the most patient parents grow tired.

A short sentence was given to her in regards to the nanny and it made Val tilt her head slightly. Not quite the 'gossip' she had been hoping for to hear. Because there had to be. "Alright, that's the most important thing about a nanny, right?" was what she said eventually. The tone of her voice said enough, however; there was more that she wanted to know about it all. Maybe she was more like her mother than she thought; interested in the gossip of the society eventually.

A frown appeared on her face when Alecto took the words 'eligible bachelors' in her mouth. Val had not even considered that. It would change her party immediately. "I surely hope not, although I would not put it against her. Maybe I need to consider a lot of escape options for the night already." Because that was the last thing she wanted. There were only a few eligible bachelors she wanted to enjoy their company of but the most of them... Definitely not.

"I know getting married will solve all of this, but you know... getting married. The idea alone gives me the shivers."

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There were undeniable downsides to being a public figure, particularly when news, whether wanted or not, was served up for all to consume. Alecto offered a dry smile. “I imagine it won’t be the last time, either.” She could already anticipate the stares, the questions, the hushed whispers. It was the price of visibility.

“Enjoy the quiet while it lasts,” she added with a knowing glance. “Sleepless nights come in waves.” Thankfully, the twins had started sleeping through the night, finally syncing their chaos into something manageable. “Though, what I’m more interested in, is whether the Falcons have a real shot at the Cup this year. Your husband’s team, isn’t it, with you out?”

"I did not know it was you. My apologies. I have been stopped too m many times today." She admitted with a roll of her eyes. "Any advice you can give me?" Alecto seemed to be handling motherhood well. Her friend looked as put together as always, not that she expected anything less. "I do not know about the Falcons as I play for the Magpies.." She chuckled in amusement. "But I do think the other teams have a better shot now, without me in the picture."

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Alecto let out a snort at what Rodolphus called her birthday present. “How generous of you,” she said, voice laced with dry amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’d never cared much for gifts.

Still, he had a point. She had no intention of losing herself. Yes, she was a mother, a wife, a sister, but first and always, she was a soldier for the cause. Carefully, of course. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, and part of her meant it, especially when she thought of Rabastan, who never once asked her to be anything less than what she was.

With a flick of her wrist, the decanter poured fresh drinks into their glasses. “Shall we go find the rest of the party?” she asked, already imagining the nonsense the other guests might be getting into.

“Oh please, Alecto. If I wanted neat and tidy, I wouldn’t have stuck around for your dramatic vanishing act, your wildly feral toddlers, or your husband’s -- my brother's -- retreat.” He paused, eyes narrowing with mischief. “And for the record, I’m counting this as your birthday gift -- my continued, saint-like patience.”

His voice softened slightly, but only enough to slip in without being noticed. His gaze swept over her. She was still sharp, still fierce, but touched now by the weight of love and the ache of responsibility. “You adjusted,” his voice quiet. “Better than most, honestly. You didn’t lose yourself in the fire, Alecto. You forged something new. Not everyone can say that.”

Then, as if catching himself being too sincere, he gave her a smirk and produced a silver flask from inside his coat. “Happy birthday, you terrifying domestic goddess." A pause. “And, yeah. I’m always here. Even when it’s messy. Especially then. -- Remember, birthday gift."

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Alecto’s expression twisted in disgust as her lips curled ever so slightly as the old man spoke. She didn’t interrupt, not yet. She let him trip over his own excuses and justifications, his hands working faster now, almost frantically, as though movement could scrub the guilt from the air. When he finally looked up, she tilted her head, the shadows under her eyes deepening with the curl of a slow, dangerous smile.

“How convenient,” she drawled, tone laced with venomous amusement. “You didn’t believe him, yet you told him anyway. You didn’t want to help, but you did.” Her fingers traced a meaningless pattern along the countertop. “And now you want us to believe your conscience caught up with you after the Prophet printed his name?”

Alecto’s gaze darkened letting her gaze settle on the freshly corked bottle. “He was playing with something far beyond what he was capable of, and you handed him the matches.” She stepped forward, voice dropping to a cold hush. “Don’t pretend innocence now. If there’s anything else he asked....any detail you’ve kept tucked away....you will tell us. Because if he comes back, it won’t be you he speaks to. It’ll be us. And we won’t be nearly so patient if you had more of hand in this."

She let the words hang between them before turning her head slightly toward Rabastan.

The old man swallowed hard, wringing his hands around a damp cloth. His eyes flicked between the two of them. The shop felt colder now, the candlelight no longer warm but flickering like a warning. “I...I didn’t know what he meant to do,” the man said, voice cracking under the weight of fear. “I thought… if I cooperated, he’d go away. I didn’t think it would come to anything. Please… I didn’t tell him everything. Just the basics. I swear it.”

Alecto’s attention returned back to the man, her smile didn’t waver. It only deepened with something unreadable. “Then I hope, for your sake, it stays that way.”

Her attention deferred back to her husband. “Well. I’d say we’ve got what we came for.” The information gathered, she stepped away from the counter and without another word, she turned and walked out into the night, the door chiming faintly behind her.

Rabastan caught the bottle, turning it in his hands in mindless examination. He did not intend to give his children anything concocted under such circumstances, and thus he slid it onto the counter with impassive dismissal. It was simply a convenient reason to be here, should their movements be traced or questioned.

Alecto's tactic became clear. She latched onto the information like the splendid snake that she was, coiling around the man's morals as though preparing to squeeze the truth from his very lungs. It was clever to imply that he was culpable. No one liked to be accused of dark deeds in these times - or any. The old wizard's discomfort was as obvious as Rabastan's own relentless ambition. He watched and listened, resting his palms against the countertop in a stance that bled contained aggression. He knew his status. He knew the strength of youthful masculinity, and he knew this visit would - at last - yield a result.

"Tell me what he asked."

Polite appearances thrown to the wind, these words were a demand that he would see fulfilled. His tone was final, his manner precise and abrupt. Still, he tolerated yet more hesitation, willing the old man to speak with nothing more than a glacial stare. The wizard continued with the second tonic, finding stability in the action while he began to stumble over his words. His eyes were fixed on his actions, as though not looking at his company would make it less threatening.

"Potions to cause nightmares.... I mean, he didn't want one, just to know the possibilities. What could cause a person to see their worst fears, to feel them as though they were true? What could make a person want to die? Was there an antidote? That kind of thing." More slicing, more crushing. The ingredients were soon arrayed in front of him, his expression now open and strained. "I didn't want to discuss it but he was insistent, said it was for study, for research.... Well, I didn't believe him. But I wanted him to go. So I told him about the Draught of Devils' Dreams, but it wasn't enough, he kept pushing, then we were interrupted and he left." Corking the second bottle, finally, he looked up. "He said he'd return, but he never did. Then I read about him in the Prophet."

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“It’s strange,” she mused. “How much people romanticize the idea of family—of motherhood. They speak of it like it’s sacred. But the truth is, it’s survival. For them. For us.” She took a measured sip, then continued, her tone sharpening slightly. “Blaise has what he needs. A mother who won’t coddle him into weakness, and grandparents who are too proud to let their bloodline falter.” A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. “I call that efficient parenting.”

Alecto’s patience for pleasantries had long worn thin. Her tone shifted. “I’ve heard whispers,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. “About a ledger in Italy. Something the Dark Lord desires.” A beat. “Tell me, Evelyn, would you care to join me?”

“I don’t believe any woman truly knows what they’re walking into with the first child. No matter how many people may explain it to you, it’s different when it actually happens.” A pause as she wrinkled her nose. “Why couples decide after one that they wish for another is beyond me. I adore Blaise but I have no interest in repeating the endeavor a second time to give him a sibling.”

“Mm he shall be terribly missed.” The words came out almost rehearsed, something she was expected to say at this point but words she didn’t really mean. She was glad to be rid of her former husband and his controlling ways. There was no loss, not to her and certainly nor to the cause if she were able to get rid of him so easily.

“They may be annoying but they are a convenient and free form of childcare when you’re ready to return to normalcy. I’d much prefer they care for him while I work than have to hire a nanny. At least I know they’ll care for him properly and it saves me the trouble of having to interview potential nannies.”

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Alecto stepped inside with the same confidence she always wore, as if the house were still hers, or never stopped being. Her gaze slid over the room with subtle calculation, noting the details he had preserved and the ones he hadn’t.

"Craftsmanship should never be wasted on the unworthy," she said. "Though I suppose flattery was always one of your better poisons."

She chose the most indulgent chair and lowered herself into it like a queen returning to her throne. Her eyes trailed after him as he moved. “How is the house treating you?"

He closed the door and turned away, heading to brew the tea. Certain if she intended to hex him, she’d do so openly and owning the house wouldn’t stop her.

“Glad you noticed. It wouldn’t do to craft something only to have it dismissed so easily. Since poison’s off the table, milk and honey it is fitting, considering how sweet your tongue runs.”

He gestured toward the chairs. “You know where they are. I haven’t altered much.”

She would likely choose the most comfortable spot rather than follow him to the kettle. Their enmity rarely extended to murder, but caution spared one from drinking burnt tea.

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Alicia Vikander

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Alecto tilted her head, her gaze sweeping lazily over Emma before a small, knowing smile curved her lips. She toyed with the label on a bottle, the a small glint in her eyes. “Oh, I wasn’t looking,” she said lightly, finally turning to face her. “Just remembering what it feels like.” Her tone was light, but the edge was there, she’d hated every moment of that forced stillness from her Death Eater responsibilities. “Do you reckon the Falcons stand a chance this year without you?”

status: open to anyone location: Quality Quidditch Supplies

Emma's pregnancy announcement and interview with Rita Skeeter had been published in the daily prophet just days before and she could feel eyes on her as she set foot into her favorite store as she was running low on broom polish. It was different than the looks she got due to her fame of being a professional athlete, she noticed people's linger on her stomach, trying to see a bump that was not yet visible. Emma had wanted to keep playing but she'd been overruled, the state of her baby's health too fragile should she fall off her broom. Apparently she should have stopped as soon as she had found out about her pregnancy, but she had not been ready to do so. It's not like she was planning to fall of her boorm. She was no fool, she had not fallen of her broom in years. And yet here she was, only allowed to fly up to a certain speed and height, effectively forced to take a leave of absence from the job she loved. "What?" She sighed before even looking at who was standing behind her, feeling their stare. "Do not look at me like that. I'm just here to buy broom polish, not a new broom."