#para:rabastan

[emmes---vance]

Home -- AU [Persephone & Hades]

She would never admit this in her husband’s presence but she had missed this world -- she had missed the halls and she hated to say -- she missed his presence. It was refreshing to be out about in the world -- having the chance to feel the sunlight. She had missed her mother greatly but her nagging and ultimately bashing of her husband soon grew to be irksome as she counted down the days till she could return home. The hem of her gown, grazing the ground as she turned the next corner, acknowledging a passing Thanatos, perhaps not stopping to speak to him was considered to be rude. Even for a Queen, but she was much more eager to see another God. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she finally came to their chambers, opening the double doors swiftly as she searched for him, “missed me?” she questioned softly, a smile tugging at her lips as she attempted to contain her excitement. 

[juniicr]

The Devil Inside | Rabastan & Barty | August 27, 1978

Barty was kept in the dark on what would be happening tonight. When the note came by owl, it held no further information than the meeting location and time scratched across the paper in red ink. Barty suspected blood was used to scribble the letters, but he tried not to think about it much as he tucked the note into his pocket and hurried up to his room. If his parents even suspected what the boy had been up to the past few months, there would be hell to pay.

Ever since his friends had been recruited, Barty’s fascination with the cause only grew with each passing day. He yearned to be a part of the group known as the Death Eaters, fighting for a common cause that they all seemed to so justly believe in. Over the summer, to some miracle event, the young Slytherin had been invited to participate in some missions, his enthusiasm growing as each meeting came and went. And yet, for some reason, he hadn't been marked.

The thought of it all confused the boy, who thought he had done more than enough to prove himself over the past few months. His knowledge and dedication surely should have proved himself worthy to the cause. But Barty knew there was one thing holding him back, his Father. The man represented everything the Death Eaters were aiming to destroy, and Barty blamed him for not being asked sooner. There had to be a sense of mistrust amongst the ranks, debating if the boy was really aligned with their cause. But Barty planned to prove them wrong.

He sat impatiently up in his room, waiting for the hours to tick by as the sun set and the pale tones of pinks and purples were soon replaced by the looming shadow of the night. Pulling Winky into his room, he told her that he needed to leave the house and she unwillingly obliged to the young master Crouch’s request. Within moments, the boy found himself at the designated meeting spot and shooed Winky away, telling her that he’d be back before dawn.

The streets were quiet; the only noise that could be heard was a faint dripping noise of a pipe falling into a puddle below. Barty’s eyes shifted left and right, waiting for some sign of someone, anything that could direct him to what might come next. He felt the anticipation in him rising, his fingers slipping into the pocket of his jacket to grip tightly around the handle of his wand. Something was coming, he could feel it. He just wasn't sure of what it was yet.

[fabianthefox-blog]

14 March 1979 || Battered and Bruised || Fabian & Rabastan

As he circulated around the property, welcoming guests to his father’s house and making pleasant small-talk here and there, Fabian couldn’t help but smile to himself in satisfaction. Apart from the fact that the guest of honour hadn’t yet seen fit to grace them with his presence, the party seemed to be off to a good start. Some people had started dancing, others had fallen into small groups for more intimate conversation, he didn’t think anybody had tried to requisition any of their bedrooms for a drunken shag, and overall it looked like everybody was having a good time. At least at this point in the evening, everybody seemed to be getting on fairly well, and if later tension did break out between the diverse attendees, there was more than enough liquor to smooth things out.

Speaking of, Fabian could really use a stiff drink right about now.

When he’d written Moody earlier that day, he’d decided to keep off the sauce until the other man arrived and they’d concluded their business, not wanting the resulting intoxication to discredit his testimony, or to discourage him from helping Fabian sort out the entire messy ordeal. But after the effort of organizing the entire party and the constant worrying about a guest list of people who really should not be forced to share a house for an evening, he felt he was entitled to at least a butterbeer while he waited for Alastor to arrive.

Merlin, he hoped he was still planning to show up. He probably shouldn’t be worried - Alastor had promised to drop by and he certainly was a man of his word,  the night was young, and guests were still filtering in (seriously, where the hell was Evan?), but he couldn’t quite shake the niggling worry that something had happened to prevent their meeting.

Yes, definitely time for a drink. Something weak; he could bust out the big guns later, after his business was conducted, but right now he needed something to take the edge off. He wouldn’t be any fun at all if he remained a coiled up ball of nerves for the rest of the evening, just waiting for the other man to arrive.

Nodding and smiling at the guests around him, Fabian made a beeline towards the nearest alcohol laden table, selecting for himself a bottle of butterbeer and popping it open. He tipped the bottle back and took a swig, relishing the feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body.

Perfect.

Butterbeer had always been something of a guilty pleasure for Fabian. Though perhaps not as manly and distinguished as a shot of firewhiskey or even something like muggle vodka, after a bad day there was nothing quite like the the gentle heat and buzz of a bottle of butterbeer. And between the party preparations and the attack last night, he really needed that. He did feel better, after Andromeda’s ministrations (what he would do without the Tonks family, Fabian honestly didn’t like to think), but there were large stretches of skin marred by Malfoy’s curses, mostly hidden away under his robes but still visible around the neck.

Well, he hoped it wasn’t too visible.

He continued to sip at his drink, eyes flitting about the room from person to person, before catching sight of a young man he didn’t think he’d greeted just yet. He looked familiar, but Fabian couldn’t quite place him; from his age, Fabian suspected they’d probably been at Hogwarts around the same time, or else they’d run into each other around the Ministry at some point. Either way, he must’ve been one of Evan’s friends, and as a good host it was his job to be polite.

“Hey!” Fabian said, tipping his head in greeting. “Thanks for coming! Can I get you something to drink?”