wwmacnaird

[wwmacnaird]

rlestrange‌:

Still looking Walden in the eyes, Rabastan draped his arms around Walden’s neck, put on a mock frown and began to tilt his head slowly to the side. “You really just don’t have anything nice to say, do you? You won’t even let me call myself an elf without contradiction,” he sighed. Leaning to touch his nose to Walden’s, his voice grew even quieter. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were trying to drive me away.”

Walden shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve been described as nice at any point in my life, why say something nice?” His head dropping slightly to rest against Rabastan’s. “I gave up trying to drive you away by age 12. You’re too bloody persistent.”

[wwmacnaird]

rlestrange‌:

Rabastan, sitting alone, smiled a little when he heard the sounds of keys and more when he heard Walden. “My house is full of assholes and elves,” he replied, his voice raised slightly to make up for the distance. He stood from where he was seated and entered the dim hallway, continuing down it to meet Walden as he spoke. “This flat has only one asshole,“—he gestured to Walden—“and one elf,”—he gestured to himself—“and no rules.” He stopped inches away from Walden, looking into his face with glittering eyes and an irrepressible mischief in his smile.

Walden rolled his eyes, unable to stop the stupid smirk from lighting up his face as he stepped forward to meet the other man half way. “You’re an idiot, you know that, yeah?” His voice betraying him as he laughed lightly, winding one arm around Rab’s waist. “Plus you’re about the ugliest elf I’ve ever seen. You’re too tall, and your ears are far too small.”

[wwmacnaird]

Walden pulled the keys from the lock on his door. He smirked as he noticed a light on down the hall, and gently tossed the keys onto the table by the door. “You’re aware your house is much nicer than this flat, yeah?”

[wwmacnaird]

“I didn’t ask, did I?”

[wwmacnaird]

That was my polite way of saying fuck off. 

Who does?

[wwmacnaird]

I didn’t ask for your company.

[wwmacnaird]

Well, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?

Pretty quiet. 

[wwmacnaird]

What’ve I missed around here? Place couldn't have been too quiet in my absence.

[wwmacnaird]

Until Dumbledore can find better grounds for expulsion anyway.

So this is permanent? 

[wwmacnaird]

The Board of Governors overturned Dumbledore’s decision. Something about how my actions, though not acceptable were not worthy of expulsion.

How did you manage it?

[wwmacnaird]

No, clearly you’re hallucinating.

Are you really back?

[wwmacnaird]

I need to speak with the two of you, now. My office, if you don’t mind. 

[wwmacnaird]

That’s the right attitude. 

*Disapproving Dumbledore*

I’m fine. We’re fine. 

[wwmacnaird]

Relax, mate.

Okay.

[wwmacnaird]

Hurt, not dead. He’ll live. Wave of a wand, maybe a potion and he’ll be back to normal.

But he’s–

[wwmacnaird]

No. They won’t actually. Nothing I used was illegal, ill-advised by some standards maybe, but not illegal. Give me some credit.

They’ll snap my wand. 

[wwmacnaird]

Nothing that we weren’t taught inside these classrooms. 

{ Every limb froze, and Lionel stared in horror. His mind ran rampant; he should say something—he should do something. While his mind ravaged in protest, his body made no movement. }

“Wh– what’ve you done?”

{ The words fell from his lips in an unconscious reaction. He now held his wand; it felt as though it burned into his palms. }