darkness fills the space || rabastan & ophelia
20:40, May 7th, 1979
St. Mungos Hospital
@rabxstanlestrange
A brief quell of peace had befallen London, and Ophelia couldn’t be more grateful for the fact that the halls of St. Mungos were beginning to look more like they had before the war had started rather than filled to the brim with pain and suffering. Work was still to be done though, and she’d decided to stay after hours to help brew up some much needed remedies before they ran out. Arms full of ingredients, she was heading towards the potion room, hoping to finish enough so that they could bubble overnight and be ready in the morning when she spotted a familiar figure wandering the halls, so completely out of place that Ophelia had to double back, curious gaze resting on the man before she figured that it would be rude not to approach. “Rabastan -- what are you doing here?” Wide eyes betrayed her surprise, although she hoped that he wouldn’t mistake them for the slight vestiges of fear that were running through her.
Truthfully, she was on edge, Rabastan an entity she was never entirely sure what to do with, nor was she completely certain of what he was doing here when physically, he looked fine. They weren’t friends, weren’t enemies either -- and yet her blood was tainted and while her parents sought desperately to erase that from the minds of purebloods, it was a fact that remained etched into her very being and there were those who did not stand for the improprieties of ancestors, no matter if they’d been burned from the family tree or not. What marks loss left on him, she couldn’t anticipate. If it’s a badge the Lestrange family would bear with pride -- they’d fought against the establishment, had solidified their alliance to the Dark Lord without room for question, or if it burdened them like a festering wound, their reputation falling and the Death Eaters seeing them as a disgrace. It’d been a long time since her mother had been capable of dragging her to balls and pureblood events, especially once she had her job at St. Mungos to excuse her from duties that might have seemed more fitting. She could only thank the Heavens that he had no way of knowing her ballot had been cast towards the victor.
Shaking the thoughts out of her head, her attention focused once more on the present, stepping into her position as Healer. It would do no use worrying when she didn’t know the facts. “Do you need a potion? ...Are you hurt?” After all, she saw it often enough, and goodness knew that the war had left enough marks on the people she knew that might never fully show, but were there all the same. Loss of sleep, a reliance on potions to help keep nightmares away, while some wanted potions to stay more alert in the case that something did happen. It’d been her speciality before she’d shifted towards the Mediwitch department, and even now she supplied those in need with little pick-me-ups when they asked.
