I write sins, not tragedies || Rabastan and Louis
Louis' bad mood had disapparated. His meeting with the mudblood whom his sister had consistently claimed to hate had improved his mood drastically, and the image of her crumpled on the floor reminded him of his father's near-admittance to killing her father and, later, his explanation of why killing their type was not a bad thing. That same conversation in which Louis understood his father's words, and his father told him how proud of him he was. How proud he would be now. Louis smirked as he walked up the drive of the Lestrange Manor. Being closer in age to Rodolphus, he could not claim to have been incredibly close to Rabastan until recently, but since they had been working together for the same cause, he felt he could say that this had changed. Certainly, that appeared to be the case now that Rabastan was suggesting they meet up for drinks. The cause was important, but keeping up those connections with other pure-blood families was a necessity also. His re-found enthusiasm for the cause, and the prospect of a few celebrating drinks for his latest contribution to that cause with a member of a well-respected family the Rowles had long been associated with, made him happy to be here right now. He paid no attention to the house-elf who opened the door as he strode up the path, only throwing his cloak towards the creature before he entered the house. "This way, sir," squeaked the house-elf indicating the room he wanted. Louis walked straight in, greeting the other occupant of the room with a nod. "Lestrange".