Rabastan Lestrange
Jun 26, 2014 20:10:05 GMT -5
Post by Rabastan Lestrange on Jun 26, 2014 20:10:05 GMT -5
"A little background then, yeah?"
Staring at the expensive, old table cloth, Rabastan attempted to hold his hand steady, the fork in his hand, grasped in a white-knuckle clench. His jaw was set, refusing to look up. The sound of his mother's voice ricochetted around in his head, and he wished his brain would simply explode.
"I know one thing, I'd beat that filth out of any son of mine," his father's grating voice joined his mother's chirping. "Talk about dirty blood..."
Rabastan's blood was hurtling through his veins, making his ears hum. Couldn't it be loud enough to block out their voices?
"Poor Amelia... So happy when she had a son, finally." Mrs. Lestrange's strangely pointy shoulders rose and fell in a disapproving shudder. "And now... What a disappointment. Hmph. How fortunate are we? Having two strong, brave, righteous sons who know what is really right in the world. Not some disgraceful, useless-"
"Fag," his father finished flatly.
Madame Lestrange's icy hand encircled Rabastan's wrist, and he leapt back from her as if she had burned him. The chair screeched and tumbled at the force, crashing to the floor. His breath was suddenly labored in his chest as he looked up from the fallen chair to the startled look on his mother's face, the slowly creeping anger under his father's collar.
"Rabastan? What are you doing?"
The fork was held aloft in his hand, as if it was his wand, poised to be used a weapon. "I, uh... I-"
"Find your tongue, Rabastan. Explain yourself."
"I..." His mind raced, his heart thundered.
"NOW," his father barked, the red of blood pressure climbing further up his face.
"It's just..." An idea flashed across his mind. "Sorry, it's still smarting, is all..." He raised his opposite hand and raised his shirt sleeve to show the fresh, shining ink of his Dark Mark. "Forgive me, mother. I did not mean to startle you."
"Speaking of being a man..." Mr. Lestrange scoffed, shoveling another bite into his mouth.
---
The squirrel dropped from the tree branch, twitching and tossing in agony. A twig snapped beneath an expensive leather shoe, as a young wizard approached the tension filled rodent. There was a slow, sickening smile that appeared on the defined lips as he flicked his wand. Relief passed over the tiny muscles, and the creature heaved its minuscule lungs. It found its feet and made to move away from danger. It was dragged backward through the dirty snow, dirt, and long expired leaves.
A flash of green, and there the squirrel fell still.
"Rabastan! What are you doing?"
Looking over his shoulder, Rabastan saw Alecto staring after him, curiously. "Nothing... Trying to fight boredom." He sniffed the cool January air lightly, kicking snow and dirt over the tiny corpse.
---
They know, but they have no proof.
I can see by the look in their eyes they'd like to strike me down, but they can't, or risk expulsion. Of course, the punishment from myself would be far worse than that...
Perhaps we could have faked injuries, helped to conceal our lack of innocence in torture and murder. They stare and hiss in the halls. Not that I care. Their range of ferocity is nothing compared to mine. They play cat and mouse, and forget that we brought the ravenous dog.
I'll write more later.
---
A hunger purred in the pit of his stomach as the young Black walked past him in the library, his scent intoxicating, clouding Rabastan's mind. "What are you reading, Bast?" Regulus dropped onto the corner of the table, poking the corner of the book that curled at the spine like a wave.
"Runes," he mumbled, flicking his eyes at Regulus's face. "Piss off before you tease, yeah?" The corners of his mouth twitched in a millisecond of a smile.
"I'm wounded," Regulus said, clutching his chest. "Why would I tease?"
"Because you do. That's what you do." He sniffed. His tongue rolled between his lip and his teeth. The craving for a cigarette coursed through him. Heavily lidded, thick lashes blinked back at the words staring from the book.
"Come on now, Rabby..." Regulus cooed in a singsong voice, simultaneously mocking both of their mothers. "You don't mean that. I'd never mistreat you." The flesh on his arms rose in bumps, the small hairs on his neck standing on end. Rabastan swallowed hard, pressing away the growl in his stomach, his heart, his groin.
"Fuck off, Black," Rabastan snapped, closing his book aggressively. "I'm going to smoke. Coming or not?" He tossed the strap of his bookbag over his shoulder, and stared, with the blank faced expression he had spent years perfecting, concealing secrets heaped on secrets.
"You told me to fuck off, so..." Regulus pouted, removing himself from the table. "I'll need to bum a smoke." He started off on his way, hand in his pocket. Regulus' blue eyes dropping to watch the give and take of the black fabric across his arse.
"You are a tease...whether or not you know it," Rabastan breathed before following after him.
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