Rabastan;

❝ We can never be gods, after all—but we can become something less than human with frightening ease. ❞ -N.K. Jemisin Congratulations, you've managed to stumble upon Rabastan Lestrange. Sixth year. Slytherin. Brother of Rodolphus. Don't call him Rabbie...

[rabxstan]

theprodigalsxn:

“You say that as if I’d approach you otherwise. Shall I send out a search party for the unfortunate souls who thought it wise?”

“ Pour first, chit chat after. Most people are bright enough to stay away as it is. Nobody wants to be another Mathilde. ”

[rabxstan]

                   “Unless you’ve got scotch, I’m not bloody interested.”

[the-powerofthree]

btvs meme → favorite villain: glory

[klaroline-secrets]

[rottnx]

fraternity matters  | RABASTAN & RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE

[rottnx]

Rodolphus stands silent, leaning over the edge of the bridge as he captures the words of his little brother. 

Had it been anyone else - anyone at all, at the wrong place at the wrong time, he would not have given a bloody damn what happened. He’d relish on it even, one mistake covered by the loud noise of distraction and suspicion. How fucking convenient, of fortune to work out like that.  …Had he say him something; had he given Rabastan a word caution, or even an implied suggestion, this bloody nuance could have been avoided. Rod should have known, out of everyone in the castle, Rabastan would be the one out in the darkest hours of the night. 

Narcissa though; now that had been the surprise of the day.

“Not careful at all.” The wizard repeats in agreement, grabbing the bottle from his hands to swallow a big gulp of the hard, scorching liquor. “Even the very best are faced with errors in their strategy, brother. That’s how one learns, no?”

He had always known not to trust them; not completely. Zealous and c r u e l t y run in their blood. They are blinded with the thirst of action, the craving of dirtying their hands and catalyzing chaos into the souls they hated. It is not regret that he feels; not for the act in and of itself. Havoc was created, and now many knew there were true monsters hidden in the dark, ready to act for the cause that united them against all. But legends say magic has a price, and many would claim this was theirs.

A sister and fiance in deep slumber, and his brother blamed and shamed for a guilt that was not his to own. 

“Ah but one battle is nothing in comparison to war, little brother. Do enjoy the scandal and glory of it, because I promise you, it won’t go beyond that. I will not let it go beyond that.”

What Bella or Lucius would or could do in regards to the sleeping beauty suffering from her own blood’s curse, if anything at all, he did not know. He had not seen them since that night. But he - he’d make sure  his brother did not suffer the same fate. Rabastan would not give him away, he was certain of that. Blood did not betrayed blood. They stood, together and strong against everything and everyone.

And Rodolphus planned to send each and every Death Eater to the frigid walls of Azkaban and fires of hell, before his own brother suffered in their name.

“All will stay as it is now, however. Dumbledore will not be able to find anything, incompetent fool that he is, he’ll have a hell of a time even finding a place to start. The professors and prefects even more so. Nothing will change until she decides. If she wakes up, and tells her father, or her sister. Then, well - that might become an actual headache.” 

There is a pause, as black eyes linger towards his brother - certainty glimmering in the darkness of his gaze. 

“But she won’t. And soon, this will all be over.”

For all the tension between his family and the Blacks, he knew the younger sister actually abides by their ancient rules; family and blood, always together. Their sinister torture is to be paid with an eternity of misery. Thus, Narcissa would die before accusing her own older sister of her attack, and the attack of  three other students.

[rabxstan]

“And what a war it’ll be, brother mine.”

There is no humor in his words despite the joke, dark eyes slanted and gazing out into the vast abyss. That is, after all, the only fucking way their little games can go - the only strings that the Dark Lord cares to pull on his puppets. Prove your worth. Show your loyalty. Never let it be said that the would be Death Eaters aren’t creative in their desperation for time and attention. Notoriety. Power.

Voldemort knew what bone to dangle and they were all salivating at the mouth like dogs.

He takes the bottle once more, drinking down the bitterness building deep in his stomach. Rabastan doesn’t want to think of the blonde bint; doesn’t want to think about his own part to play in whatever wretched shenanigans kept little Saint Black out so late. He’s washed that all away with the blood, gone, gone, gone, down the god damned drain.

Hasn’t he made it his mission to wash his hands clean of the entire bloody lot of them? Both brothers surely knew by now the bloody fucking headache of dealing with the Black sisters?

“You put a lot of faith on one girl’s loyalty.” The words are quiet, careful not to carry on the wind to uninvited ears. He’s itching for blood and violence; really only needs one good excuse to go on the murderous rampage they all accused him of.

One thing: He was nobody’s sodding fool.

“I suspect you’re right. She won’t give up her batshit sister.” 

For the same reason that Rabastan kept his silence, Narcissa would never utter a word against her sister. It’s not as if the entire castle isn’t aware of the girl’s unwavering loyalty to her family name. Staunch. Cold. He wondered, though if she couldn’t be as unforgiving as the rest of her brood. Hell would come whether it came from Narcissa herself or by way of her sister, Andromeda.

“It won’t be over, though. Not by a long shot, big brother.” 

There was a certainty in his voice - a clarity of words he didn’t often use. Pandora’s box had been opened and never again would the castle or the people within it be the same. Lines were being drawn that very moment, decisions made and the momentum of an inevitable war put into full swing.

“If that girl wakes, there will be a price to pay for her silence.” Perhaps not in the usual way, but something darker. Whatever she had to say would direct the course of things to come.

“If she doesn’t wake, war will be the least of our worries.”

Idiots. The entire fucking lot of them. Himself included.

He passed the bottle back, running a tired and frustrated hand through his unkempt hair. This was all a giant mess - wet behind the ear children playing at adult games with real world consequences. 

“It’s a fine mess, innit? A fine bloody fucking mess!”

Laughter follows, deep and echoing. What is it that people say - if you can’t find joy in the small things? Rabastan claps his brother on the shoulder in emphasis.

[rottnx]

fraternity matters  | RABASTAN & RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE

It was a tranquil gait that carried the boy down the muddy mounts of the grounds - too carefree and yet too graceful. Hand in his trouser’s pocket with a dark green tinted bottle on the other. If you looked closer, you might see the wheels turning in his head; penetrating charcoal gaze straight ahead with his mind everywhere else. It was a simple evening, for all intents and purposes. One like any others; a simple moonless night with slight tension floating among their crowds, too curious to know but too scared to ask more than they ought to. 

The small, mindless students that wandered out in the open skies still parted way for him to pass; hushed chattering and slanted eyes staring to the back of his head. Oh, but it was not he the topic of conversation feeding their mouths - of this Rodolphus was highly aware. Halting if only for a moment, he barely glanced over his black clad shoulders; a growl hiding in clenched teeth loud enough to have them all scatter off like the wet rats they all were.

It was fucking, bloody idiocy, all of it. And that was exactly what it would remain. 

Rod had not expect it, naturally, but it could lead nowhere but where it started. Another chapter of chattering and blabbering before the next grand meal comes to their empty, pathetic lives. It was not but the mere start of the day when he’d caught on to the vine sliding through the halls that cloudy morning. L  E S T R A N G E  is the name in everyone’s mouth, and though a cause that called for mockery of the students and teachers at Hogwarts for their stupidity and incompetence, it put him in quite a peculiar mood. 

To wake up to the talks that his little brother tortured four students, including one of their own, was not ideal with him. In fact, he’d expected anything but - chaos, strife, paranoia, but never this. He’d made that clear already, but minutes ago. Warned those involved, his little pack of apprentices, that should it go beyond this - talks and chatter and tiring gossiping - there’d be a price to pay with b l o o d, and  it wouldn’t be his, or his family’s. 

Rabastan would not pay for their deeds - for his doing . He had enough on his own without adding punishment on behalf of his older brother; and their family was not in the habit of making others pay the price of their antics. They uphold their own actions and lived up to them with true delight. When it came to golden ties of loyalty and fraternity, it was certainly not to them first.

But a Lestrange always finished what they started - despite the error of others.

“So lonely, brother. It might seem as if half the castle is scared of being too close to you.”

It is a grin that greets the younger wizard, with the words booming across the old, wooden bridge. He thrusts the bottle of scotch to his brother once he reaches his side, scanning quickly their surroundings, just for measure. There was no need for more collateral damage. 

“Unfortunate, truly unfortunate all that happened. But if I’m not careful, you might become the bigger name around here, and then, just what would I do?” 

[rabxstan]

Must be fucking nice to breath in peace.

The boy flicked a cigarette off the bridge, uncaring where it dropped below. He was exhausted and if one more person asked him another god damned question, he was going to show them what a true act of violence really was. He wasn’t daft – he could hear their whispers and see them all huddled in their groups pointing at him like some sort of sideshow attraction. Let’s all have a gander at Rabastan Lestrange, yeah? Let’s all sneak a peek at the resident baddie. Bloody tossers!

Then again, he wasn’t helping matters along so much was he? Mum’s the word on his lips after hours upon hours of interrogation. They were so certain – the entire bloody lot of them – so damn sure that he was the guilty party. He was the nice dripping rare steak that everyone wanted to sink their teeth into. All of them had their piece and he just sat twiddling his fucking thumbs.

What point was there in saying anything? They had their minds made up and he wasn’t about to go spreading his personal issues to the ears pressed against the glass. Fuck ‘em all. The professors didn’t have shit to go on and the prefects were incompetent to begin with. Besides, he wasn’t guilty.

They’d never find anything saying he was.

Except Rab had a fairly decent idea of who was guilty and that knowledge only added to his silence. What point was there in shining the spotlight on someone else – on betraying blood – when he already knew he was going to get off the hook for this? No, he would sit back and watch it all play till the very end. When the entire castle already thought you a soulless monster, what harm was there in a little more dirt to muddy up the rumors?

“Better for me, innit? I might actually get some sodding peace for once – no more monkeys hanging off my back.” It was an empty laugh that he offered his brother, lips set in a thin line as he watched the sky in the distance. “Fuck ‘em.”

Still, it’s a grin that he manages for Rodolphus once they’re side by side. ( As they should be; as brothers always are. ) Rab is glad for the distraction of liquor and the company. When he wasn’t being hounded by the faculty and staff, he was too busy running his arse off to keep from actually committing murder. The scotch has the strength and fire he needs to dull the dower thoughts threatening to suffocate him.

“Wretched events,” he agrees as his dark gaze flit over their surroundings in a search for other signs of life. The other students were keeping their distance; afraid to come near him now that he might be a murderer.

The joke of it was that the current events had nothing to do with what happened on Halloween.

“Seems to me you’ve already lost that battle, brother. Not careful. Not careful at all. I’ll just have to relish the limelight while I can, yeah? I always did like the sound of my name on other people’s lips. I think I’d like to hold on to the glory for a little while.”

His words are punctuated by another drink from the bottle. They understand one another.

[nepenthenism]

Knives | RABASTAN & ANDROMEDA

[nepenthenism]

“Don’t touch me!”

A growl that was almost a scream, Andy jumped back the moment she felt the brush of his fingertips against her skin; scared of the scaling touch that brought a twist to her insides. Heartbeat frantic against her chest, conflicting thoughts assaulted her mind - grab the wand and attack, or leave. Leave at once and far from him, because it all felt too much, too strong. She had been taught to be calm; to be as cold and indifferent as the winter winds. But Andy never learnt.

"And don’t you mock me, I will not take it - not from you, or from anyone.”

Heads started to turn their way, she noticed this at once. Small groups of late night students that quietly tiptoed across the hollowed hallways, a rustle of hushed, curious voices around them. No, she was not going to make this a show; enough people knew by now to make an spectacle in the middle of the hall. And worst of all, she felt the control slipping through her fingers, moisture in her eyes and red on her cheeks. No, she was not going to lose like this.

Turning on her heels, the witch cracked open the lock of the classroom door across them. Glaring at the remaining bystanders, she walked past the boy to enter the room - swallowing harsh, and attempting to gain some level of sense and composure; even if she never had the former.

Ironic, how that was still the ritual for them - fight outside, talk inside. But the thought only brought more acid to her tongue.

This should have never been.

“You know, I’ve heard people call me a hundred things.” The girl began, a slow turn to face him with a new shade under her face. Calmer, collected - deadlier and ready to explode.

Slender arms folded over her chest as she leaned her back into the table behind her, a prevention from the instinct of reaching for her wand. It’d be too easy to hex him, and perhaps a part of her was wistfully wishing that she’d stop feeling. Stop wanting to ask him why, because that’d mean she was hurt, and he could not know that.

”Blood traitor. Such a pity, such an embarrassment. That girl who rolls in the mud. Crazy. Bitch. Soon to be no longer a Black. You’ve heard them, right? You get the point.”

Andy got to her feet then, walking slowly closer towards the hazel haired boy - gaze blazing with the untamed ache rushing through her flesh as she never once glanced away from his dark, starless eyes.

“I do not one sodding fuck about any of that. They speak, I shut them up. Easily. But today I heard something I hadn’t heard in a long, long time. Something I had only heard one other person call me. Something I told you.”

She should have known better.

“I walked into the common room today and saw some imbecile taunting his latest feat of cursing some second years. I confronted him, he turned around - and he laughed. Is that what you wanted, he asked me, for someone to defend you. He said he understood now, why I can’t be like any of them, why I didn’t belong - he understands why my parents will soon disown me. Took them too long, he thinks. Who would want a half witch in their family, ah? Who would want a s q u i b with their blood?”

“And I - I had only told you that. You!”

Any sense of control trickled down, tears slipping down her cheek as she talked. Bitter, angry salty drops that kept forming in the corner of blue eyes. Nails digging into her palms, holding on tighter as she swallowed back the pounding hurt in her chest, in her head, and the knot in her dry throat. She was rolling further and further into the black pit that was the sharp taste of anger and betrayal that raged through her blood.

“Just tell me who else you told! Tell me!”

[rabxstan]

Oh, he listened to her alright.

Rabastan listened to every bloody word that left her fucking mouth and the more she talked, the harder he listened. He might as well have his ear right up to her lips; clinging to every sodding word like he’d find some speck of rationality in them – like he’d find some small sign that she didn’t truly believe the shit spewing from her, wave after wave.

So, t h i s  was what she really thought of him after all this time?

Barring the fact that the very notion was fucking stupid – IF Rabastan went around telling people that Andromeda had once been called a squib, he knew what would happen. They’d all laugh at him for being a daft sod, and he suspected that the same had happened to the asshole that had told anyone else in the first place. There wasn’t a snake among their number that hadn’t seen the middle Black sister throw a hex with the precision of a fucking master at least once in their lives. Generally speaking, Rab was usually on the receiving end.

And what in Salazar’s wretched fucking name did he have to gain from telling anyone her childhood woes? Even from her stupid goddamn standpoint – Rab the Giant Soulless Monster – he STILL had no reason for doing something so incredibly bloody stupid. People would ask how he found out, why he knew, and the dots would be connected where she thought he didn’t want them to be. If he didn’t give a single shit about her and wanted to be associated with her as little as possible, why the fuck would he shine that spotlight on himself?

Even so, he hadn’t told anyone because he was a fucking idiot. Rabastan had cared enough to RESPECT her confidence. Sodding fool that he was, he’d though that maybe she realized at least a little of what he was feeling. He’d been so sure – so fucking certain that the trust was building.

Tight lipped laughter escaped him; not because he was amused but because it was the only thing that kept him from reaching out and wrapping his hands around her pretty little throat. He could only nod at her words, the dryness in his mouth acting to keep him from unleashing the sea of profanities and curses building from his gut.

“So that’s what you think?”

His words are dead calm, devoid of the emotion he’s so known for. Passionate. Wild. Blood rushing everywhere but his brain. Not this time, though. Not anymore. Rabastan is a breath away from murder and not even the Dead Sea can match the eerie calm that belies the fact.

The boy’s steps carry him closer, body arching to meet her face with his. He’s close enough that he could kiss her and his fingers itch with the urge to grab her shoulders and force the stupidity out of her tiny little frame. Instead it’s a smile that quirks at the corners of his lips. It’s not the lecherous grin that he’s known for and it doesn’t reach his dead black eyes, but it’s just for her all the same.

“Why don’t you ask them?”

His head jerks towards the door, where their classmates have gone back to their pathetic little lives. She hated them – just like he did, and yet he was more willing believe what they had to imply than anything he had to offer.  Fuck them. Fuck her.

Rabastan isn’t moved by her tears; she doesn’t get to play victim here.

What was the point in trying to tell her anything when she’d already made up her mind about him?

He dug his hands into his pockets, leaning back so that a distance was created between them once more. Really, there’s nothing left for him to say – nothing that she’ll listen to, and he’s not about to make an ass of himself trying. She’d made her stance clear, drew her line in the sand and he obviously didn’t belong.

“I’m done.”

The door of the classroom slammed behind him.

[coramvobis]

[nepenthenism]

Knives | RABASTAN & ANDROMEDA

So bloody stupid.

Chest rose and fell slow and uneven; a raspy shortage of breath that failed to fill her lungs or clear her mind. There was no clarity dawning in her gaze and no stopping to pause and think. There was only dark, deep red in her eyes and a clenched jaw holding the million and one things threatening to spill out like venom into the crowded halls. Curses and hexes and screams and -                                                    so bloody, fucking stupid.

The clicking of her heels was fast and precise against the cemented floor, marching against the flock of students returning to their quiet rooms and cold beds; ignoring the cries and shouts from those that dare be on her way. She didn’t care for them, she didn’t care for anything. She needed to get out - she needed to get as far as possible or Merlin help her, she’d kill them all.

Besides, she had a place to be, and a boy to find.

                                          Oh, but she’d been such a stupid, silly, fucking careless girl.

How could she have trusted him?

Their whole affair gave her sleepless, long nights and days of questions and denials. But with what she’d say…Andy had known there and then and hours after that she’d created a bloody breach. She’d opened a sodding door, she’d spoken more than she ought to - she’d let him in. Even if it was for a one night, for a silent moment, on his bed, in the depth of the night, Andromeda told Rabastan things she’d never said before. A single secret that broke a little girl and made her heart bleed with insecurities, and doubts, and wretched thoughts. She’d trusted Rabastan with a searing, painful memory no one knew about.  Not her loved ones, not her sisters or cousins or friends - bloody hell, Andy could bet even her parents chose to forget.

But she’d told him, of all people. With tears staining his pillow and his fingers running through her hair - and she had stayed, even after, she’d stay long enough for the sun to rise. And only mere, fucking days after, those same words came back to her - ringing in merry, mocking tunes across the fireplace of her own house.

“You bloody bastard - who else did you tell?”

Open palms hit his shoulders the moment she encountered the Slytherin, pushing him back with rough strength as rage burned through every inch of her flesh. Andy wanted to hex him, to slap him, to get rid of him long enough so she’d forget the awful mistake she made in getting so very close to him. Months before, she would have done much worse already - and the very thought of it brought a bitter, ashy taste to her tongue and a twist in her stomach. 

“Come on, Rabastan - the damage is done. I bet it felt so fucking swell to taste victory. Good for you. But you will tell me who else knows, or I swear to hell and heaven that I will get it out of you, one way or another.”

[rabxstan]

Rabastan saw her long before he heard her voice in his ears. It was impossible not to take note of the slip of a girl as she parted a small sea of students – equal parts anger and determination. Given who this vexed creature was and unassuming boy that he was, it hardly seemed anything out of the ordinary in their sordid little saga. As far as he knew, it was just another Tuesday in their world.

In fact, a snide sexual innuendo waited on his lips for Andromeda Black. Some ill-timed banter to counteract whatever had gotten the witch up in arms this time around. This was what they did; whatever they had together was made up of moments like this. Heated words. Searching hands.

What the Slytherin never mentioned was how exhausting their little games had become. Tired and worn down to the very bone, he just couldn’t walk away. Rabastan was addicted to the faint auburn strands in her chestnut hair, the turn of her pert aristocratic nose, and the fire in her too blue eyes. He was drowning in her and each new day drew him further into the girl’s depths.

“ What’s got your knickers - ”

Whatever words he might have said died on his lips as he was thrust into the wall behind him, the back of his head pounding against the stone in what could only result in a splitting headache. Fucking bitch! A growl passed between his clenched teeth as tiny hands continued to barrage and assault his chest. He couldn’t even make sense of what she was saying – raving like a god damned lunatic.

How could he forget his place? Rabastan the sodding punching bag!

“ Why don’t you back the fuck off, Princess? ” He placed his hands on her forearms, thrusting her away with surprising control. It was a wonder he didn’t pound her pretty head into the wall. He knew for a fact this wasn’t how she treated everyone’s favorite prefect.

“ Who else did I tell what? ”

His dark eyes bore into hers, searching her face for some sort of clarity. How the fuck was he supposed to know what stick had been shoved up her arse that day? As far as he knew, he’d been on his best behavior since his last emotional screw-up. Not talking was easier when all you wanted to do was bitch and nitpick about St. Lupin and the rusty harmonica he could shove up his –

Was this about t h e m?

Had word somehow gotten out about their little affair?

It was hard to explain the feeling in his chest at the thought. Wouldn’t it make life so much fucking simpler if people knew? It would be a load off his mind and something that he could throw at a certain Gryffindor with relish. Not that he’d ever mention it himself, or fuck up so majorly as to tell anyone – Was it really that bad of a thing?

To her it was; what else would she look so fucking upset for?

“Well don’t keep us in the fuckin’ dark, yeah? What abhorrent, unforgiveable thing have I done this time, Andromeda?”

[rabxstan]

treading water | RABASTAN && NARCISSA

His knuckles were cracked and bleeding; the warm sticky moisture filling each crevice like crimson rivers on swollen purple flesh. Abottle of cheap liquor swung precariously in his grip, amber liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass confines as he ambled drunkenly down the deserted halls. Blood splattered the side of his face and the front of his shirt, serving only to add to the depravity of his unkempt hair and dead black gaze.

It wasn’t his blood.

Stupid bitch! Stupid fucking bitch!

Rabastan’s free hand dragged along the side of his face, smearing the blood along his brow and into his dark locks. Honestly, it was like he was walking against a current – every nerve screamed in protest and every step was sluggish and lethargic. He was tired; he was fucking exhausted. All he wanted was a place to lay his head, for this wretched bloody world to shut the hell up and fade away.

Garbled laughter echoed from the back of his throat as he slumped against the nearest wall, ignoring the angry protests of the portraits as their frames banged and clattered. The Slytherin was beyond caring – beyond giving a fuck about a world that hadn’t offered him anything aside from shit. He didn’t even realize that his laughter had become angry sobs; his body heaved with each rasping drag of air. It hurt to breathe.

This was all her god damn fault.

“Let’s just believe the bloody worst about our old boy, eh? Rabastan the rabid fucking dog!” He swallowed his anger with the fire of alcohol; the cheap burn hardly a comparison for the hollow feeling in his stomach. “It’s not like there’s any other solution to the equation, yeah? Because if someone is going to go and fuck something up, it’s gotta be Rabastan Lestrange. He’s not a man, is he? Not a fucking human being. Nah, he’s shit – he’s a bloody soulless fucking monster!”

It was his fucking fault for thinking that this time would be any different.

“You bloody bastard – who else did you tell?” He mocked in a high effeminate voice as he stumbled to his feet. “I’m a stupid bitch who has to jump to the wrong fucking conclusions, but why the hell not? It’s not like I’ve been given a reason to know any better. It’s not like I’ve listened to you talk about personal shit either. This is all about me. ME, ME, FUCKING ME!”

The bottle of booze went flying through the air, smashing against the opposite wall.

“Fuck you!”

“LESTRANGE!”

He winced at the sound, placing a hand over his brows as if that would help his blurred double vision as he slowly turned to give a face to the voice. Fucking bitch!

“Black?” Rabastan stumbled forward, all but ready to tear the source of his problems to pieces. Bloody hands wrapped around her pale throat, teeth gritted like an animal. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t?”

“The wand lodged in your gut among others.”

Her cold voice broke through the haze, washing over him like a cascade of cold water. Rabastan had been so focused on her face – those eyes – that he hadn’t taken in her hair color. This girl was blonde where she should have been brunette.

Still, he thought about hurting her all the same. Ruining that beautiful face of hers would be as close as he could come to the real thing, and it might just hurt the original that much more. He could make this slip of a creature bleed onto the floor and prove them all right. If he wanted to make that bitch really hurt, this was the way to do it.

His body went slack as he fell against her, face buried into the crook of her shoulder as the tears just poured like rain. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t fucking do it! God he was pathetic! Rabastan screamed into the fabric of Narcissa’s robes, punching the stone wall beside them until he could feel his bones cracking in protest.

“I didn’t do it,” he mumbled against the fabric covering his mouth. “I didn’t fucking do it, I swear.”

The Slytherin allowed the witch to push him back, offering no opposition as she gently pulled his wand from his grasp and placed it in the pockets of her robes. His dark gaze was trained on her face, the blood that he had transferred to her face, neck and shoulder. How was she so fucking calm? Where was the accusation that he was so fucking used to?

As if sensing the rage brewing once more, Narcissa placed a surprisingly firm hand on his shoulder.

“The blood Rabastan,” she spoke carefully – almost cautious. “Who does it belong to? It’s not yours, is it?”

“He fucking deserved it! That little piece of shit,” he all but yelled – ignoring the warning glance from the blonde. “Should have kept his mouth shut, fucking asshole. Now he’ll know better!”

“I can’t imagine otherwise, Lestrange.” She nodded her head in slow agreement, maneuvering him so that they were walking towards the staircase.

“Don’t fucking condescend to me!” He jerked out of her grasp, eyes blazing. “You don’t know shit! What do you know about anything that happens outside of your gilded fucking cage?”

If Rabastan could feel anything aside from the alcohol, he might have sworn that hurt. Her palm connected with the side of his face and he fell to the floor, crashing against broken glass and liquor.

“I know not to pick fights I can’t win, Lestrange!” Her glare was so similar to that bitch’s – so fucking similar. “Why don’t you pick yourself up and act like you have a little dignity? Just because your family is a pack of flea bitten dogs doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

She held out her hand, a brow arched in challenge.

“Are you ready to be a man, Rabastan? Because, I can leave you here for someone else to pick up or you can get yourself up and we can clean up this mess before Slytherin becomes further fodder for the hungry masses.”

Narcissa thrust her hand forward in emphasis.

“Get up, Lestrange!”

He glanced at her pale hand for a moment, attempting to weigh his options in his drunken mind. Grimacing, Rabastan grabbed hold of her wrist before pulling himself back to his feet. Salazar knew he was exhausted and even he had seen his worth reflected in her blue eyes.

Her sister’s blue eyes.

“Fuck this shit,” he groused – swaying as he attempted to walk away. “I’m done.”

Rabastan didn’t bother to look back at the blonde picking his fallen watch from the ground. All the boy knew was that he was fucking tired, his bed was calling his name and there was no way in hell he was telling the little bitch following behind him where she could find the asshole he’d left bruised and bleeding.

“I can make it back to the dungeons myself, Black.”

“Not likely, Lestrange.”

“Entire bloody castle would have a field day if I broke my neck on the way down. There’d be a parade with seventy-six fuckin’ trombones.”

“Certainly, but where would we ever find such irreplaceable wit and charm?”

“Fuck off.”

[emmafavorsthebold-deactivated20]

"You have three more seconds to gawk awkwardly before I use one of these brushes as a very small –but very sharp, I promise you– weapon."

[rabxstan]

“I’ll need much more than three seconds to truly appreciate the trials and tribulations of making that gigantic nose of yours look so pert and tiny, sweets. ‘Sides, I’ve dealt with your left hook; I think I can handle a stabbing or two. Now, now, my poor wretch’s heart might break if you say you don’t have time for me. That would be a true act of violence.”

[alcxrrow]

“A teenaged bloke not looking for a quick shag— think the world is ending. Reckon there’s worse company to have when everything is crashing and burning around us.”

The muttered reply was more for her own snarky amusement than anything. Alecto sneered a bit at his response. It was the same one near about every other one of her housemates gave her. She was too young or she wasn’t careful enough or some other bollocks that caused her to cross her arms in frustration and annoyance. Which, she would never openly admit, was perhaps the worst reaction but she was Alecto bloody Carrow and she was meant to get everything she wanted. So caught up in her own thoughts, the girl almost didn’t hear him until his last comment, which dug deeply under she skin. Her eyes flashed dangerously and she sat up straighter, leaning forward with her forefinger pressed into her chest.

“I’ve got to prove? Without me, Amycus would be lost. ‘Sides, we come as a package. Me, then him. Unlit match, my arse. If the lot of you would pay attention, you’d see I’ve proven myself more than enough times. Take your thumbs out of each other’s arses and look. I’m not a bloody child and you bloody well know it.”

[rabxstan]

Well, he’d gone and done a bang up job of sticking his foot right into his bloody mouth, hadn’t he?

A sigh escaped him as he brought a tired hand through his ragged hair. This was a tirade he and everyone else in the common room had heard a thousand times before. It was also one of the many reasons that she had yet to be initiated into the ‘inner circle’ or whatever the hell they all were. She was too loud - too fucking eager. She’d run right in and get someone killed, if not herself. Honestly, who was that god damned eager to enter a bloody war zone anyway?

“Do you think I have any say in this shit?” He gave her a square look, stepping closer. “I never asked any questions; there was no initiation. When someone tells you to go, you go, and you play a good little soldier. You don’t scream and cry or throw a bloody tantrum about it, you fall in line, yeah?  Maybe if you’d stop looking for cracks to slip through, someone would open the door for you?”

He pulled out the flask once more, taking a few long swallows of the fiery scotch before passing it to her with a gruff grunt.

“I’ll tell you what sunshine,” he began while fishing in his pocket for a cigarette. “We’ll go cause a little trouble of our own, yeah? What are you in the mood for?”

[nepenthenism]

Honesty Lies | RABASTAN & ANDROMEDA

"It is really not that bad." The witch mumbled, eyes closed and words as soft as echoing ticking of the clock on the wall. "The cuts, I mean - we’ve all had worst."

Chestnut hair spread his pillow, her head resting on top of his bare, slick chest. As had happened too many times to count, Andromeda could not find the will in her to move too far or too fast. Giving the numbing peace of the moment after the rush and the h i g h was now a need. It was his touch that enhanced this; the soft caresses at her back swayed her into a half sleep state that she found too comfortable to fight.

Andy noticed before, how the trail of his fingertips never quite brushed the fresher bruises in her skin - they just never mentioned it. What was the point? No rational thought existed for this; but it was better not to say it, because to speak it meant it was true, and neither her nor Rabastan could even begin to explain what it meant.

But their talks - though a lullaby - had soon turned into eagerness; a willing desire to talk free and open as the rawness of their act had been. 

"You can’t really damage property to the point of complete ruin. Though as expected, she’s found ways."

Sighing, she wriggle slightly on the spot - sliding off of him and to his side, chin now resting atop a pillow folded beneath her torso, as her fingertips traced random patterns across the boy’s arm.

Memory lane was a nasty road, with words coming out unfiltered and thoughts unstoppable ; something the young witch had never allowed before.

"When I was little, I didn’t know if I hated her or feared her. Probably both. I hated what she did to my cousins, to my sisters - to me. And I hated the effect she had on me, how scared I was when we were with her, how bad she could make me feel."

Chuckling slightly, Andromeda shook her head. In the back of her head, this was a bad idea and the red flags rose fast in those few dark corners where her thoughts were still clear. Yet, Andy had long stop thinking with her head in these quite moments with her fellow Slytherin.

"My parents would always believe what she said, too. I remember clearly, on our first lesson - my first lesson. I was five, or six years old, late into magic according to her. So she took it upon herself to bring it out of me - my aunt thought it suitable, and proper, to force me into performing spells. But they were dark spells, dark magic and I got so scared even trying it - seeing it, because of course she made a show out if it. At five years old, she wanted me to do these things and I couldn’t. I got myself sick, or shocked, I don’t know but for months I couldn’t do any type of magic. So she told my mom, and my dad, that I was no witch. This one, Cygnus - she said - this one, your daughter, is a squib.”

There was a moist in her cheek she hadn’t notice before, holding on to the pillow against her chest harder than before. But swallowing back the bit of bitterness in her tongue, she glanced up to meet his gaze, allowing a sigh to follow her words.

"My parents wouldn’t look at me for weeks. Isn’t that stupid? You’d think they’d try to test me too, or do something about it. That’s why she keeps calling me back, obviously - I never learn my lesson."

[rabxstan]

How he managed to keep quiet, the boy would never know. Rabastan could only hold his tongue and the fire burning beneath his flesh as the brunette lingering in his bed continued her train of soft spoken words. His fingers itched with the urge – the unmitigated want – to wrap around the throat of her aunt and silence the vile taunts that had obviously pained this girl and to halt the breath from leaving that crone’s lungs ever again. Given the opportunity, he would have set her family manor on fire and watched her parents burn inside for their stupidity and the painful memories that obviously lingered in that wretched house.

Not that he would ever say as much. Not that he ever would put any of the volatile thoughts in his head to action. It wasn’t his place – it wasn’t his right. Rabastan was no hero out to save the little princess; he wasn’t some knight in shining armor that could make all her gray skies a vibrant blue. Hell, he wasn’t even her sodding boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to Andromeda Black aside from a good bloody fuck when the itch needed scratching.

Words had never really been their corner of the world, and for whatever reason she was choosing to share this with him. It was almost like they were something to one another; that the entirely too blue eyes staring up at him were an open invitation to a world of something more. A brief pause in time, a moment of reflection for two people that never seemed to stop moving. He wasn’t about to open his mouth and fuck it up.

Poor fool that he was, he was drowning her.

Calloused fingers threaded through silky strands of chocolate hair while his mind tried to wrap around the thousand and one thoughts in his head. It wasn’t supposed to be like this and he could almost hear Andy’s laughter in his ear. There was no sharing this.

“They’re all a bunch of fuckin’ idiots,” he groused – voice low and dangerous as his own gaze sought out the blue oceans behind her thick lashes. “The entire bloody lot of them.”

Rabastan was mostly talking about her parents and insufferable aunt, but the bitterness extended beyond that. It wasn’t as if their particular brand of parenting was new to the purebred elite. They – all of the younger generation – were like racehorses. If they couldn’t perform they were beat until they broke or put out to pasture to waste away and die. Useless. Irrelevant. Unloved.

Good for absolutely nothing.

“It just means you aren’t boring, yeah?”

The words left his passion swollen lips as he shifted a bit higher on the stack of pillows behind his back. A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he gave a tug to her curly hair. It was the small moments like this that he had begun to live for.

“You’re a willful and stubborn fucking creature, Andromeda. You’re like an Arabian horse out in the great open wild; all gnashing teeth and mane blowing in the breeze. That is unacceptable and it scares the old posh hags like your blessed aunt who would rather shove you into a stable for the rest of your life.”

He had known her long enough – watched her in enough situations – to know that sort of life had never been meant for her. The bruises and the cuts were all marks of honor to the girl. They were like little badges of courage. They were war paint on porcelain flesh.

The world could do to Andromeda Black what it would and she’d continually come back swinging.

“Good for you.”

All the poets said it was hard to love a wild thing, but Rabastan called bullshit on the very idea. It was all too easy – too fucking easy. That was the pain of the thing.

[littlefawnlily]

            “And yet, fully clothed. I guess all your wishes just can’t come true.”

    Lily eyed the drink once more. It was time to put up or shut up. Was she going to break the rules and risk getting caught throwing back with a member of her rival house, or was she going to write him a detention slip and face yet another onslaught of ‘goodie-goodie’ and ‘scaredy-cat’ taunts behind her back? With an eyeroll for good measure, so Rabastan would be perfectly aware of how ridiculous she wanted him to think she found this, Lily grabbed the glass and downed it as if she had money riding on the shot. She caught his eye, placed the glass back on the table, and gestured with her other hand for him to refill it.

            “Some men just like to watch the world burn, huh? Do your parents know that you behave like this?”“

[rabxstan]

                "Well, you know us Slytherins - bloody opportunists, the whole lot of us."

Rabastan waited, a single brow arched in the direction of the fiery haired prefect as he waited for the final decision. Either way it was no hair off of his back - he never went to any of his detentions and it wasn't like either of them were number one on each other's list of people remotely deemed pleasurable company. Truth be told they were probably at the bottom of their respective lists, if mentioned at all. Rab only treated her the same as he would anyone else and a grin curled at the corners of his lips as he watched her take the glass and shoot it down like champ.

Naughty. Naughty.

                " My parents? Evans, I'm a chip off the old man's block. I think it's your poor mum and dad that you should be worrying about, yeah? You reckon they'd have a heart attack if they knew little Miss. Perfect was taking shots with the school's resident big bad? "

[audentes-fortunajuvat]

Propping her elbow up on the bar and resting her chin on it, the blonde angled her gaze towards him. Raising an eyebrow at the apparent hilarity, she managed to keep her features schooled, only offering a slight quirk of her lips to indicate her amusement. “The daft one who managed to fall for them.” Sighing, Marlene rolled her eyes before finally swiveling in her seat to face him. “You’re quite right, though. I wouldn’t get into nearly as much trouble if I were half as charming as I claim to be. Still,” she nodded, finishing off the last of the whiskey. “I cannot deny and say that it isn’t more fun that way.” 

[rabxstan]

"It's the trouble that's the fun of it, Mckinnon. Being a pureblood, you ought to know that manners and being prim and proper are boring as hell?" He gave her a look before tapping the bar again, calling over the bartender. "Fill our glasses up, yeah? This one's on me." Rabastan didn't feel like going back to the castle and if that meant hijacking the Gryffindor for company, so be it. It was where all the snakes seemed to be going for riveting conversation these days. At least she didn't wear a shiny prefect badge or have a stick lodged up her arse. 

"Seeing as someone else poured, it's not poisoned." He mocked, lifting his own glass briefly in salute. "To not being charming, yeah?"

[alcxrrow]

Alecto snorted in sarcastic amusement, an unladylike habit she gleefully held onto due to the fact that it seemed to irk most of the other girls in her shared house. The lingering amusement pulled at the corner of her mouth as she rolled her eyes. 

"I’m sure you’ll stumble upon some twat to fall into and bury your sorrows in.”

Her smirk pulled higher on the corner of her mouth as she took the offered flask. She lifted it to her lips, hesitating a moment and allowing the fragrance of the scotch to float around her nose before taking a drink. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips as the alcohol burned its way down her throat and into her stomach. Lifting the flask to her lips a second time, the girl took a longer drink before holding the flask back out to its owner. 

"Better to sulk over here than have to be shoved aside over and over by you lot. Always whispering together." A petulant pout found its way to her lips. "Treating me different because I’m a bloody girl. Between that bit of sunshine, and my mother, I think I’m in the right to a bit of a sulk.”

[rabxstan]

"Not really on my list of fun things to do today, Carrow. Looks like you're stuck with me for the moment."

He offered a smirk of his own as he took the flask back from the dark blonde snake, taking another sip from it himself before slipping it back into the pocket of his robe. Rabastan listened to her pouting words in silence, offering little in the way of comfort as he made to lean against the dank dungeon wall. There really wasn't much to say on the matter - nothing for him to offer her anyway. Every Slytherin that dared to 'relax' in the common room had heard this little tirade at least once.

"Dry your crocodile tears, yeah? It's not because you're a bloody bint." If that were the case, Bella would be out of the loop as well and then no one would get any sleep because there'd be no end to all the bitching and moaning. Not to mention their beds would probably be on fire. "It's because you're a fifth year and there's nothing to do now but sit and plot and wait with out thumbs up our arse like a bunch of idiots. Can't exactly do much after Halloween now that all eyes are on our damned house, can we?"

Not that they'd even had anything to do with that. Rodolphus and Bellatrix were more pissed that someone else had beat them to the punch - had taken all their precious glory. 

"If you want in the club you've got to ditch big brother for a bit and prove you've got a touch of merit all on your own, yeah? Till then you're just a child with an unlit match."

[nathanieldarling-deactivated202]