"Your Low is My Joy" - Rashnu Lestrange
Title: Your Low is My Joy. (086. Choices)
Characters/Pairing: Rashnu Lestrange, Druella Black.
Rating: G.
Word Count: 569
Summary: Rashnu delivers what he believes is a fair warning.
A/N: None of this belongs to me, except maybe Rashnu's first name. The rest all belongs to JKR.
“No, don’t do that.” Rashnu gently batted Dru’s hand away from where she had been trailing her finger over his Mark in mild fascination. After all these years she had never known him to leave it completely on show.
She pouted for a moment before turning her interest back to him, ever eager to know what nonsense he was up to and why it didn’t involve her. “Who are you writing to?”
“A colleague,” was the flat response. He didn’t move his eyes from the parchment.
“Ra, you don’t work,” she craned her neck to read his letter thus far, but the words were disappearing faster than they were forming. The most she caught was his signature and even then it was only because she’d seen it enough times to commit the style of the first few letters to memory. Waving the document lazily in an effort to make the ink dry, Rashnu ignored her statement and started heating the sealing wax with the candle.
“I heard Cygnet refused the Dark Lord’s invitation,” it sounded like casual conversation, but it was nothing of the sort.
“Cygnus,” Druella automatically corrected, “And yes, he did.”
He sealed the envelope and reached for his family crest. “Again?” he stamped it harder than he had intended, but no matter. “Till?” The elf appeared beside him and he handed the letter over. “To Augustus Rookwood, via owl. Now, please.”
“What was that about?” She watched in confusion as Rashnu began another letter with the same ink and the same quill. This time the words did not disappear. She frowned. “And I don’t see why you should give a fig which side Cygnus is on.”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information,” he answered with an amused smile, “And I really couldn’t give a toss what Cygnet does with his life, but those without clear allegiances are considered traitors and his daughters need their father. Merlin knows he should have better judgment considering how his eldest turned out.” He knew better than to bring up Andromeda.
“And what of me?” There was a slight note of alarm in her voice. He was quite unabashedly talking about the possible murder of her husband and still remained completely unmoved when he mentioned her daughters.
Rashnu shrugged and finally stood, laying a far from reassuring hand on her shoulder. “If you cannot convince your husband to change his mind… Then I suggest you find a replacement.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, for no reason other than because he could, and promptly turned on his heel as the flurry of Russian obscenities began. He had no idea what she was saying and he really didn’t care; an all too familiar burning sensation called him elsewhere. “I know this is terribly rude of me,” he began without an ounce of regret, taking his coat and cane from an obliging Till, “But I have a pressing engagement and, really, if I do not attend everything will fall into chaos. So,” he flashed Druella a smile before heading towards the front door and pulling his coat on, “I must bid you farewell and ask that you convey my best wishes to your family.” He saluted her with his cane and bowed, Disapparating before she had the chance to complain.
Rookwood turned only slightly in his seat as Rashnu appeared beside him.
“Well?”
“He’s not going to change his mind.”
Characters/Pairing: Rashnu Lestrange, Druella Black.
Rating: G.
Word Count: 569
Summary: Rashnu delivers what he believes is a fair warning.
A/N: None of this belongs to me, except maybe Rashnu's first name. The rest all belongs to JKR.
“No, don’t do that.” Rashnu gently batted Dru’s hand away from where she had been trailing her finger over his Mark in mild fascination. After all these years she had never known him to leave it completely on show.
She pouted for a moment before turning her interest back to him, ever eager to know what nonsense he was up to and why it didn’t involve her. “Who are you writing to?”
“A colleague,” was the flat response. He didn’t move his eyes from the parchment.
“Ra, you don’t work,” she craned her neck to read his letter thus far, but the words were disappearing faster than they were forming. The most she caught was his signature and even then it was only because she’d seen it enough times to commit the style of the first few letters to memory. Waving the document lazily in an effort to make the ink dry, Rashnu ignored her statement and started heating the sealing wax with the candle.
“I heard Cygnet refused the Dark Lord’s invitation,” it sounded like casual conversation, but it was nothing of the sort.
“Cygnus,” Druella automatically corrected, “And yes, he did.”
He sealed the envelope and reached for his family crest. “Again?” he stamped it harder than he had intended, but no matter. “Till?” The elf appeared beside him and he handed the letter over. “To Augustus Rookwood, via owl. Now, please.”
“What was that about?” She watched in confusion as Rashnu began another letter with the same ink and the same quill. This time the words did not disappear. She frowned. “And I don’t see why you should give a fig which side Cygnus is on.”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information,” he answered with an amused smile, “And I really couldn’t give a toss what Cygnet does with his life, but those without clear allegiances are considered traitors and his daughters need their father. Merlin knows he should have better judgment considering how his eldest turned out.” He knew better than to bring up Andromeda.
“And what of me?” There was a slight note of alarm in her voice. He was quite unabashedly talking about the possible murder of her husband and still remained completely unmoved when he mentioned her daughters.
Rashnu shrugged and finally stood, laying a far from reassuring hand on her shoulder. “If you cannot convince your husband to change his mind… Then I suggest you find a replacement.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, for no reason other than because he could, and promptly turned on his heel as the flurry of Russian obscenities began. He had no idea what she was saying and he really didn’t care; an all too familiar burning sensation called him elsewhere. “I know this is terribly rude of me,” he began without an ounce of regret, taking his coat and cane from an obliging Till, “But I have a pressing engagement and, really, if I do not attend everything will fall into chaos. So,” he flashed Druella a smile before heading towards the front door and pulling his coat on, “I must bid you farewell and ask that you convey my best wishes to your family.” He saluted her with his cane and bowed, Disapparating before she had the chance to complain.
Rookwood turned only slightly in his seat as Rashnu appeared beside him.
“Well?”
“He’s not going to change his mind.”