RP: Strange Dinnermates

[anon_hestia]

Date: March 19, 2003
Character(s): Hestia Jones and Rabastan Lestrange
Location: Truffles
Status: Semi-Private
Summary: Hestia decides to see what Truffles is like and runs into some unexpected company
Completion: Incomplete

Hestia had to admit, the town was lovely. It had a small town, old-world charm one didn't find much in England anymore, but she had

Comments

[anon_rabastan]

"I pay what the food is worth," Rabastan said dryly. "In truth I have overpaid for that meal." He looked amused. "If your food is worth it, I shall pay the price on the menu or more."

He noticed her gawking at the city and leaned over to murmur in her ear, "We can sight-see later, if you wish."

He was amused at the way Mario looked at Hestia. He'd never been entirely sure how much Mario knew about him and how much he believed. Certainly Mario had never referred to his actions in England nor had he ever indicated that Rabastan wasn't welcome in the restaurant. Perhaps he simply didn't care about British matters; he'd made the odd hint or two in that direction in the past.

"Come in, come in," Mario said, ushering the two of them into the restaurant with a bow. He shooed them over to one of the prime tables then sent one of the waiters after his mother.

A shriek came from the kitchen then the doors flew open a small, rather rotund elderly woman came hurrying out. Rabastan rose to his feet, a wide, genuine smile on his face as he embraced the old woman. "Mama, how are you?" he said with an impish look on his face.

"How am I?" Mama de Luca said with a fine imitation of indignation after she'd hugged him ferociously and kissed him on both cheeks. "It has been months, Rabastan. Months! And now you come swanning in and ask me how I am?" She suddenly frowned and patted Rabastan's chest and sides. "And look at you! You have not been caring for yourself at all. You are far too thin. A good strong breeze would blow you away."

She abruptly whirled around and fixed her gaze on Hestia. "And who is this? You are to be good to her, Rabastan, you hear me? None of your usual games. Look at her. She is beautiful and probably far too good for you."

Rabastan laughed, a low, warm sound that he had no doubts would surprise Hestia, and caught Mama's hands in his. "Of course she is too good for me. Isn't every woman? And her name is Hestia Jones. I have been bragging to her about your osso buco so I hope it is extra special tonight."

Mama gave him a fond scowl and slapped his arm. "It is always good, Rabastan. You know that." She then turned and beamed at Hestia. "Welcome to my restaurant, Hestia. Did you actually want the osso buco? Don't let this oaf pressure you into it."

[anon_hestia]

"No doubt." Hestia just always felt bad for the restaurant workers. She'd worked so long in restaurants that she would never underpay again. It was too personal to her. She looked over at him and smirked. "Well, you'll just have to find out then, won't you? Perhaps I'll cook for you sometime."

He was suddenly very close to her, his voice in her ear, and it was almost a shock to realize that there was no table between them. A thrill ran down her spine, and she glanced away a moment. "I'd like that. The best art in Italy is here, isn't it?"

Mario's scrutiny was unexpected, but she seemed to have past the test, so she didn't think on it much. Thinking was probably ill-advised given that she had willingly sat down to dinner with a death eater and then let him take her to Florence. Hestia just had to go with the flow.

Stepping inside the restaurant, Hestia had only a moment to take in the decor before she heard a shriek, and turned her head. As odd as Mario's reaction had been to Hestia, given Rabastan's reputation, it was nothing compared to Mama's. It was like he was a son, or even a grandchild, given the way she scolded him. Hestia fought down laughter. She'd received a similar greeting from her normally cool mother, when she'd shown up on her doorstep not long ago.

Then Mama whirled on her, and Hestia flushed at the sudden attention, and the mention of games. SHe had a feeling she knew what games Mama was talking about, and part of her wondered if that's what they were playing, and if she really minded.

His laughter did surprise her, and she turned toward him, her eyes suddenly unreadable.

Hestia found herself smiling at the woman. She could see why Rabastan liked her, and part of her understood why he enjoyed coming here. "It's a pleasure to be here, Mama. And I would love to try your osso bucco, actually. If it's as good as he says, I have a friend in Venice I will have to brag to, and I can't resist the opportunity."

[anon_rabastan]

Rabastan arched an eyebrow and a tiny, slightly wicked smile grew on his face. "I'd like that."

He nodded. "Yes, some of it. Actually most of the best is either in the Vatican in Rome or, oddly enough, in the Hermitage in St Petersburg. The Romanovs and their ancestors were inveterate collectors of fine artwork and most has survived until today."

He was pleased that Mama seemed to have taken to Hestia and he knew exactly what games she was talking about. Mama did not care about his life in Britain, if she even knew about it at all, Rabastan had never been able to determine that. What she didn't like was his tendency to come here either alone or with a different woman or man each time. She wanted him to settle down with one woman and give her surrogate grandchildren. That had always amused Rabastan.

Mama beamed at Hestia then smacked Rabastan on the arm. "Oh, this one. He would have the whole world eat here and then where would there be a place for him." Even as she said this her expression told anyone watching that there would always be a place for Rabastan. She turned to him and gave him an arch look. "And I suppose you want the osso buco as well?"

Rabastan leaned down and kissed Mama on the cheek. "Of course. I can't very well say no after recommending it so thoroughly."

"Good," Mama said. "Now sit down and Mario! Look after them properly."

Rabastan chuckled and walked aound to pull out the chair for Hestia, waiting for her to sit before taking his own seat. He then grinned up at Mario.

"I'd better do what Mama says or I'll be in the doghouse," the other man said with an easy grin. "I'll be back with wine and bread in a minute."

"Thank you," Rabastan said then he looked over at Hestia as Mario hurried away. "So... does the restaurant meet with your approval?"

[anon_hestia]

"Ah, leave it to Catherine then? Collecting French philosophers and Italian art?" She smiled at him. "Never been to Russia, sadly, heard it's lovely during the warmer months."

Hestia was pleasantly surprised to be so well received. Given the way Mama was talking to Rabastan, she was far from the first girl he'd brought here, and she doubted she'd be the last. Highly doubted. But, new girls in Rabastan's life didn't seem to bother her. Quite the contrary, it seemed to give her some kind of hope. Hestia laughed inwardly at the thought. She didn't think anyone less than a woman with the blood purity of Bellatrix Lestrange would have ever tempted him, and even then, he didn't come off as the family type.

"Ah, well, it's always the highest praise when a cook's food is loved so much that a patron would risk losing his place in order to tell evey one how wonderful it is. I hope to find a patron like that one day." Hestia prayed she wasn't saying anything wrong, terribly unsure of her footing. She hated being on the outside of things, and these three were as comfortable as one could get without blood relations, perhaps even closer. Hestia was ill at ease.

Then, perhaps thankfully, the party broke up, allowing Hestia to regain her wits. She took the seat Rabastan pulled out for her, thanking him. She watched him take his own seat. After he spoke, she smiled and nodded. "I love places like this. There are never better places to eat than those run by people who love what they do and the people they cook for. Absolutely nothing better."

[anon_rabastan]

"She may have been a bit round the bend but at least she had some taste," Rabastan said dryly. "Actually Russia is far better in the winter. The snow covers up the more... shall we say dingy parts of the country. Makes it look like a winter wonderland."

Rabastan chuckled at Mama's pleased smile at Hestia's reply. As far as he could tell, Hestia was being quite genuine and Mama seemed to think that as well.

Rabastan nodded. "I always come back here whenever I'm in Florence. I met Mario a couple of years before my stint in Azkaban." He arched an eyebrow at Hestia and gave her a wicked smile. "He's a wizard, you know? Lord Voldemort had sent me here to meet with Mario and various others. I had some success with the others but not with Mario. He didn't care much about the wizarding world. His father had just died and all he wanted to do was run the family restaurant and after tasting Mama's cooking, I left him to it."

[anon_hestia]

"Ahh, that's unfortunate. I have a strong aversion to cold. Which is why I found myself in Southern France." She shrugged a little, before glancing at him. "Just exactly how many places have you been?"

Hestia breathed out through her nose, feeling the tension leave her body at Mama's smile. Apparently, she hadn't made an ass of herself. Oh so important all things considered. She felt as though she'd been tested, and meeting Mama's approval was the way to Rabastan's. Or was the the other way around? She was so confused.

Leaning forward, Hestia listened to him speak. It was odd how casually he spoke of Voldemort and his missions, but then, she had to keep reminding herself that they shared polar opposite views on that subject and so many others. When he mentioned Mario though, Hestia frowned.

She looked up and smiled at Mario thanking him as he brought the bread and wine, then turned back to Rabastan as the man left again. "Can hardly blame him." She'd spent the past four years forgetting she was a witch for the most part, and totally ignoring that she was British.

"You must like not being judged here. You must get my reaction a lot back home."

[anon_rabastan]

"The Russians have already thought of that," Rabastan said with a chuckle. "I'm not sure many of them like the cold that much either. But once you've rugged yourself up in a fur coat and hat with a nice warm scarf and gloves and a decent pair of boots, the snow is quite fun." He paused for a moment and thought. "Quite a lot. I've never really been one to settle down in one place for long. I left that sort of thing to Rodolphus. He's the eldest son. He's the one who had to marry and continue the bloodline." He smirked. "He's the heir. I'm the spare. I was left to do more or less what I wanted."

Rabastan was amused at Mama's approval of Hestia. The older woman didn't often approve of the women and men he brought here, at most it had been about a quarter. It meant he was likely to get an owl at some point in the next week asking whether he would be bringing Hestia back to the restaurant.

Mario returned at that point with the bread and wine and Rabastan thanked his friend before pouring the wine for both of them. He picked up his glass and swirled the wine before carefully taking a sip. He smiled slightly, Mario had brought out some of his best for them.

"I rarely care what others think of me," he said with a shrug. "I never have and certainly your reaction is nothing unusual." He gave a tiny wicked grin. "At least you did not react with the boneheadedness of a Gryffindor, pulling your wand out and declaring eternal enmity and demanding a duel." he chuckled. "Gryffindors have a tendency towards dramatics."

[anon_hestia]

"Ahh those clever Russians, what would we do without them?" She knew he was teasing her, and she, oddly, felt comfortable teasing him right back. She made a face before laughing. "I guess it's another place to add to my list."

Hestia listened to him, nodding. "You don't sound terribly bitter about being the younger son." She'd been an only child, and a girl without a noble name to lend her responsibility, but she knew what he meant. Still, he had avoided her question. "A lot isn't terribly definite, but I have a feeling it's all I'll get for now." Then she turned thoughtful. "Is this place your favorite? You said it was your favorite for food, but in general?"

Hestia helped herself to the bread first, cutting herself a piece before buttering it and taking a bite. She'd had quite a bit of wine while at Truffles and not nearly enough food. She needed something to balance it out before she did something stupid.

"That's probably a smart way of thinking." She probably cared too much what other people thought. It had part of the reason she'd fled to the anonymity of France. Those wicked grins of him threw her off balance. They sent a thrill along her spine that she wasn't sure she was comfortable with. It was exciting. "Ah, well I'm no Gryffindor. Just a demure little Hufflepuff. We're not meant for dramatics."

[anon_rabastan]

Rabastan laughed. "They might be nekulturny about many things but they do produce good furs. I recommend St Petersburg and the Hermitage. It's recently been renovated and done up to look as it did during its heyday and much of the artwork has been restored to the walls."

Rabastan sipped at his wine and looked amused. "I'm not. I know many people expect me to be but I have always enjoyed being the younger son. Rodolphus was the one expected to marry and produce an heir. I was just expected not to bring the family name into disgrace." He chuckled. "Though I have spent some time mastering my impression of a dissolute younger son."

He shrugged. "I doubt I could remember everywhere I've been but certainly most of the major cities in Europe. Moscow and St Petersburg a couple of times. I've even been to America. Ghastly place."

He took another sip of his wine then nodded. He knew it was a risk telling an Order member a likely place to find him but he also knew that if the Aurors or Order descended on this place to try and capture him, they would likely find themselves at the wrong end of Mama's best cleaver and that was something that not even he would risk. "It is. As you have seen they consider me one of the family. Who would not like that?"

"I have always found it for the best," he said idly, leaning back in his chair. He grinned at her again. "Just a demure little Hufflepuff, hmm? Yetone who has the courage to accept a Death Eater's invitation to dine in a strange country. I think there is far more to you than meets the eye." He took a sip of his wine and looked her over the rim of the glass. "I like that."

[anon_hestia]

Hestia raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, nekulturny?" He could easily make her feel stupid, but her ego had been knocked around enough in school, Hogwarts, auror training and then culinary school, that she knew being offended by not knowing got her no where. Just better to swallow her pride and ask and no longer be ignorant. Hestia smiled. "I'd like to see that. My Maman loves art very much, she's nearly beat me over the head with her impressionist fixation."

Licking her lips while she considered a moment. "I don't know what to expect of you anymore." Still, she had a feeling he greatly liked the freedom being a younger son had brought him, and while she could point out that with his sister-in-law dead and no heir apparent, it might fall to him yet, but that was well beyond the realm of her business, so she didn't say anything.

"Doubt you could remember? I don't think I could forget. Have you been to much of Asia? I've always wanted to try the food there. The flavors are so exotic, and spicy, unlike France." He mentioned America, and she laughed shaking her head. "I have been there, and I did like New York. It wasn't ghastly."

Hestia took another long look around the restaurant, feeling the warmth emanating from people here. The happiness the friendliness, and she understood that. "I can see why. This really is special, Rabastan." It didn't occur to her that up until this point, she'd managed not to say his name. "Makes me miss all my friends from culinary school."

Laughing, Hestia shook her head. "I grew up with a friend who wouldn't let things lie. If you were going to challenge her, you'd best back it up. I've been unable to resist them ever since, and as to more of me," she shook her head again. "I'd like to think I'm enigmatic, but I've always been straightforward. I don't think anyone has ever found me to be more than I am." She glanced over him. "Until now."

[anon_rabastan]

"It's a Russian word, means uncultured," Rabastan explained then he snorted derisively. "Mind you, in the old days before glasnost, the same men who insisted they were kulturny and attended the ballet and wept at the opera were usually the ones who would also shoot you in the back of the head without hesitation. They've always had an interesting definition of 'cultured'."

He smirked smugly at her, knowing how such an expression annoyed people but liking the reaction it tended to get. "Good. I would hate to be thought of as boring and predictable." He shrugged and grimaced. "Though if Rodolphus doesn't remarry and produce a child then it might become my job to continue the bloodline." It occurred to him that Bellatrix could well be lurking somewhere around Annwn, in which case it might be best if Rodolphus did not come here. Bellatrix had no interested in children after all.

"I've been to Tokyo once and Delhi twice," he said. "I rather liked the Indians I met in Delhi. They were polite and friendly but not afraid to speak their minds and the food was excellent."

He looked amused when she spoke his name, remembering her prim and tart remark at the beginning of the evening. He was tempted to mock her about that but let it lie for the moment. It would be far more interesting to see if she picked it up on her own.

"It's mostly family run, though they do employ some of the young people in the neighbourhood to wait on the tables." he paused as one of those young people came over with two plates holding generous servings of the osso buco. Rabastan nodded his thanks to the young man then grinned at Hestia.

"Mama's famous osso buco. "I hope you will not be disappointed."

He picked up his fork and dug in, the meat so tender and well-cooked that it practically fell apart. "Everyone has hidden depths if one cares to look for them," he said with a small smile then he took a mouthful of the meat. He closed his eyes in delight at the rich flavours. "Mmm, delicious as always."

[anon_hestia]

"Ah," Hestia leaned forward, placing her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. She liked listening to him. He was knowledgeable, and even though he was pretentious, he came by it honestly, but he wasn't looking down on her for what she didn't know. She liked that. She knew what the other two words he said meant. Glasnost she'd heard and kulturny she could figure out from what he'd said before. "So do we."

Then he could be horribly smug. She rolled her eyes at him, but it held little heat. "You're neither, I assure you." Probably not best to feed his ego. He surprised her by saying exactly what she had been thinking. "I'm sure that would be just terrible for you. Having to take care of someone." She crinkled her nose, showing she was teasing. "Doesn't seem to be your thing."

Hestia nodded. He'd been many of the places she planned on going at one point or another. Part of her was jealous, the other part knew she could learn for him, and hopefully, she would be smart enough to listen to that part. "There's an Indian restaurant in Annwn. You should try it. See if it compares."

When he looked amused, Hestia thought for a moment before turning pink. She looked away, taking a deep sip of her wine and composing herself before ignoring it.

"Those make the best sort of places." She noticed that Rabastan was much friendlier to the help here than he had been in Truffles. He was more at home here. She also doubted Mama would have tolerated any haughtiness in her establishment. It seemed to go against her nature.

The picked up her knife and fork and took a piece of meat. She took a bite and shut her eyes in pleasure as it melted in her mouth. "No, not disappointed," she said after a moment. "This is near perfect." An amused look crossed her face. "I'll have to write Alessandra after all. She won't be happy with me."

[anon_rabastan]

Rabastan swallowed his mouthful of dinner then chuckled. "True enough. I'd imagine everyone has a different idea of what cultured means."

He gave a wicked look when she rolled her eyes. He'd did like getting that kind of reaction from people. "Good." He snorted with amusement. "That's what nannies are for, my dear. And tutors for that matter."

He arched an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine. "There's a thought. One can only hope that the standards there don't match the standards at Truffles. Though if they can do a tikka masala that comes close to matching what I had in Delhi then I may be a regular customer."

He smiled when she praised the osso buco, looking almost proud as well as pleased. "Mama will be pleased to hear that," he said then he laughed. "Perhaps if this Alessandra of yours is very lucky Mama might give hersome hints. I doubt she'd be able to get the recipe out of Mama though. At least not unless it was over her dead body."

[anon_hestia]

What Hestia had imagined a potentially dangerous comment, give their differences in culture, went over smoothly. She amused him, and Hestia rather liked the position it gave her.

Those looks were almost as dangerous as his smiles. She held his gaze though, not daring to show the effect it had on her. "Oh yes, I'm sure it worked rather well on you." Her eyes flickered over him a moment, assessing his mood. "Tell me, did you torture your teddy bears as a boy?"

Hestia shrugged. "From what I could tell when I passed it, it's run by immigrants, which should lend it some prestige." She smiled at him, "You'll just have to go and find out. Let me know how it goes, hmm?" She didn't invite herself to go along with him. Part of her wondered if her would offer.

Taking another bite, Hestia was silent as she savored the flavors. Then she took a sip of wine and laughed. "Oh, that will be the day, Alessandra could make Achilles look humble. She's Italian to the core. It will be fun to deal a blow to her ego though, and that's what I look forward to. I also know she'll work harder, and next time I visit Venice, I'll be eating all my meals for free as she tries to convince me that hers is better." She smirked, looking almost devious.

"Sorry, I have a lot of friends from culinary school, and most of them are horribly prideful hot-heads. Have to be in my line of work."

[anon_rabastan]

Rabastan's amusement deepened though he did let a tiny look of warning creep into his eyes. She was treading dangerously close to taking this from being a pleasant dinner into something much more... unpleasant and he'd decided he was not in the mood for such a thing tonight. Admittedly that wouldn't stop him if need be but on the whole, this even he preferred to enjoy the meal and the company. Besides, Mama would be annoyed with him if he misbehaved here.

"I never had a teddy bear," he said blandly. "I had toy soldiers. I used to stage grand wars with impossibly heroic but eminently sensible heroes out in the gardens and get in trouble with my mother for squashing her peonies."

"As long as they're Indian immigrants," he said dryly. "I'd hate to think of what an Indian restaurant run by Swedish immigrants might be like." He was tempted to make an offer for her to accompany him but an invitation like that would be far more entertaining if it came out of the blue. She would be half expecting him to make such an offer right now and he always hated being predictable.

"In a sense, chefs are like healers," he said with amusement as he ate his dinner. "If their ego and arrogance match their skill and ability then who can honestly complain."

[anon_hestia]

Hestia was aware of the line, but she'd meant no real harm in the remark. She hoped he was aware of that. She didn't want to censor herself around him. She didn't like doing that, not for anyone. She'd always been blunt, much to her own detriment.

His answer though, made her laugh. It sounded just like what a little boy left to his own devices would do. "I'm sure you were a grand strategist and that the poor peonies never stood a chance." She shook her head, trying to hold in her laughter.

Hestia cringed at the very thought. "Don't frighten me. I can't even imagine that. I don't even want to." She shut her eyes tight, willing the image from her mind, before smiling, taking a sip of her wine. She was almost being silly. She'd definitely had too much wine.

"Very much so. Worse perhaps, because healers at least set aside their egos when actually saving people. That doesn't happen in a kitchen." Even she tended to be horribly prideful of her cooking and willing to fight others for it when the temper struck her. She couldn't deny it.