Rab/Ros got EMO.
Title: Who She Hates
Genre: Rab/Ros (they're officially their own genre now XD), NONRomance
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Till, Rosmerta (briefly), Rufus & Martin (OCs), Aurelia Selwynn mentioned.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Word Count: 1377 words
Summary: Rosalind gets drunk. Rabastan doesn't approve. Yelling ensues.
Author's Notes: Aurelia Selwynn is chainsawbuffet's OC and I have no rights to her. Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #04. Winter.
Rosalind threw her head back and laughed loudly. The Three Broomsticks Inn was warm and cozy, filled with the nice, robust smell of ale and butterbeer. Outside, the winter wind continued to howl. There was a fairly decent amount of people in the Inn, keeping their fingers warm from the the frosty chill beyond the Inn's doors. A fair number of wizards had congregated around a table and were all teasing a petite, dark-haired girl. Another thing that set her apart from the rest of the crowd was that she wasn't wearing robes like everyone else. She was wearing Muggle clothing.
"Oh, dear, I think I may have had too much to drink already," Rosalind giggled as the wizards at her table urged another flagon of ale her way. "No, no, I've had too much," she giggled.
"Damn straight you have," an angry voice came from behind her. She looked up. "Get your arse in gear and let's go."
"No," Rosalind replied. "I like it here. These people actually like me."
"Get up, Rosalind."
"Hey, look, mate, she doesn't want to go with you all right?" Rufus was a beefy man with a very short neck. He'd been working steadily for the past few weeks and he'd been hoping to get lucky tonight.
"Yeah, the lady wants to stay here," Rufus' friend, Martin, while much scrawnier than his friend, held the same hopes.
"Rosalind. Now."
Rufus skidded his chair backwards and stood up. "See here--" his sentence was cut short by a fist to the face.
"Rufus!" Martin stood up and inspected his friend, who was out cold. Hey, if he could knock Rufus out with one punch, Martin had no chance.
"Damnation," Rabastan shook his hand, trying to rid it of the sting.
"What the hell, Rabastan!" Rosalind spat, staring about three inches to the left of where he really was.
"You had your chance," he muttered as he plucked her up off her seat and tossed her over his shoulder. Rosalind let out a gush of air as her stomach collided with bone. Rabastan made his way to the door of the Three Broomsticks. He took a look at the woman that had sent him the urgent owl. He gave Rosmerta a small nod. "Sorry, Rosmerta," he said loudly, referring to the man now sprawled on her floor.
"Hah," Rosmerta said, coming towards him with a broom. "This is nothing," she said. She looked into Rosalind's angry face. "This is for your own good, honey."
"RABASTAN! I DEMAND THAT YOU PUT ME DOWN!" she screamed as they left the Three Broomsticks. Rabastan dropped her without ceremony onto the snow-covered street. She fell on her arse and felt the mush seep into her clothes. She was going to catch a cold if she stayed down there, but the world was spinning. She fell over onto the street. "What have I done to you to deserve this?"
"Get up," Rabastan instructed, but Rosalind was too busy trying to fight back the tears to pay attention. He sighed and plucked her off the street. There was a small pop and the streets of Hogsmeade were empty. Only the howling winter wind remained.
"Till, fetch something warm for your mistress," Rabastan said the moment they arrived at Lestrange Manor. He set Rosalind, who was shivering, on the couch.
"Till, would you mind getting me something warm as well?" Rosalind said through chattering teeth.
Till looked at her master with a confused look for a moment.
"That's what I said," Rabastan said, at the end of his patience.
"No, you said for her mistress. I am not her mistress. I'm her Rosalind," Rosalind said, teeth still chattering.
"This is not the time to argue about terminology," Rabastan said, waving Till away. Till bowed herself out.
"I do think this is the perfect time to argue about terminology!" she declared, getting up.
"Sit down, you're going to fall over again."
"I was happy, warm and dry in there!" Rosalind screamed. "Then you come in, punch my friend in the face and now I'm miserable, wet and cold!"
"First of all, he was not your friend. Second, you were making a fool of yourself."
"Why should it matter to you, huh? I'm nothing to you, yes? I was a weekly romp, nothing more!"
Rabastan kept quiet. Clearly, there was something the drunk little girl needed to get off her chest and he wasn't going to stand here and argue with aforementioned drunk girl. He was going to sit. Till came back in with tea at the most opportune moment as Rosalind lost her train of thought to watch the elf.
"There, there, Miss," Till came towards Rosalind with a warm fuzzy blanket. "You need to get out of those clothes and bundle up."
Rosalind accepted the blanket, but made no motion to remove her wet clothing.
"Till is right, Rosalind. You need to get out of those wet clothes."
"Sod off," Rosalind said impolitely. "I'll see myself home."
"You're too drunk to Apparate home. Besides, is this the state you really want to be in when you go home to Papa?"
"Don't call him Papa, he's not your Papa," Rosalind said, slurring half the words in that sentence. "I'll take Floo."
"Sorry, all out."
"You're lying."
"It's my house. If I say we're out of Floo, we are. Right, Till?"
"Yes, master."
Rosalind made a noise of impatience as she walked over to the fireplace mantle, where she saw the tin of Floo Powder. She blinked and the tin disappeared. Either she was more drunk than she thought or... "Till, be a darling and give Rosalind the Floo Powder," she said gently. "I do really need to get home."
Till shook her head. While she liked Miss Rosalind, her loyalty would always be with her master.
"Merlin, what do you want from me?" she finally screeched, losing all patience. "Have I ever broken our agreements? You call, I come. You don't call, I don't come. I don't ask you for presents, I don't ask you where you've been or who you've been with, I put up with all your bullshit! I am, by far, the most agreeable whore any fool could ever desire! And yet you want my soul! You want to destroy me for every and all men! How can you be so fucking selfish?!"
Rabastan looked at her steadily from his seat. "Are you done?"
"No! I am nowhere near done! I hate you, Rabastan Lestrange. I hate you so. very. much."
"I hate you, too," Rabastan replied, steepling his fingers.
"No, that's not fair," Rosalind said, walking over to him. "That is not fair at all. I have done nothing to you to warrant your hate. You, on the other hand, have used and abused me."
"O-ho," Rabastan stood up, taking full advantage of the height difference and looking down at her. "And who came running after whom? Did I pursue you? No, I do believe you were the one stalking me, coming to my Common Room, practically throwing yourself at me. You've got no one to blame but yourself."
"I don't blame you," Rosalind hissed. "But that doesn't mean I don't have every right to hate you," she said, striking his chest with a small fist. He didn't even flinch. She hit him again. He grabbed her wrists and squeezed. She cried out in pain. "See? This is why I hate you!" she screamed.
"No, you don't hate me," Rabastan said angrily, squeezing harder. "Tell me who you really hate."
"YOU!" she screamed and jerked her wrists away, but he held them firm.
"Say it."
"NO!" she yelled, tears now streaming down her face from a mixture of drunkeness, cold, misery and physical pain.
"One last chance, Rosalind."
"AURELIA!" she thrashed. "I hate her! I hate her with every fibre of my being."
"And why do you hate her?"
"Because you don't."
"That's more like it," Rabastan said, dropping her wrists. She fell to the floor without any means of support.
"Merlin, why couldn't you have just left me alone?" she muttered at the floor.
She felt him touch her cheek. "...because I don't hate you either."
Genre: Rab/Ros (they're officially their own genre now XD), NONRomance
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Till, Rosmerta (briefly), Rufus & Martin (OCs), Aurelia Selwynn mentioned.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Word Count: 1377 words
Summary: Rosalind gets drunk. Rabastan doesn't approve. Yelling ensues.
Author's Notes: Aurelia Selwynn is chainsawbuffet's OC and I have no rights to her. Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #04. Winter.
Rosalind threw her head back and laughed loudly. The Three Broomsticks Inn was warm and cozy, filled with the nice, robust smell of ale and butterbeer. Outside, the winter wind continued to howl. There was a fairly decent amount of people in the Inn, keeping their fingers warm from the the frosty chill beyond the Inn's doors. A fair number of wizards had congregated around a table and were all teasing a petite, dark-haired girl. Another thing that set her apart from the rest of the crowd was that she wasn't wearing robes like everyone else. She was wearing Muggle clothing.
"Oh, dear, I think I may have had too much to drink already," Rosalind giggled as the wizards at her table urged another flagon of ale her way. "No, no, I've had too much," she giggled.
"Damn straight you have," an angry voice came from behind her. She looked up. "Get your arse in gear and let's go."
"No," Rosalind replied. "I like it here. These people actually like me."
"Get up, Rosalind."
"Hey, look, mate, she doesn't want to go with you all right?" Rufus was a beefy man with a very short neck. He'd been working steadily for the past few weeks and he'd been hoping to get lucky tonight.
"Yeah, the lady wants to stay here," Rufus' friend, Martin, while much scrawnier than his friend, held the same hopes.
"Rosalind. Now."
Rufus skidded his chair backwards and stood up. "See here--" his sentence was cut short by a fist to the face.
"Rufus!" Martin stood up and inspected his friend, who was out cold. Hey, if he could knock Rufus out with one punch, Martin had no chance.
"Damnation," Rabastan shook his hand, trying to rid it of the sting.
"What the hell, Rabastan!" Rosalind spat, staring about three inches to the left of where he really was.
"You had your chance," he muttered as he plucked her up off her seat and tossed her over his shoulder. Rosalind let out a gush of air as her stomach collided with bone. Rabastan made his way to the door of the Three Broomsticks. He took a look at the woman that had sent him the urgent owl. He gave Rosmerta a small nod. "Sorry, Rosmerta," he said loudly, referring to the man now sprawled on her floor.
"Hah," Rosmerta said, coming towards him with a broom. "This is nothing," she said. She looked into Rosalind's angry face. "This is for your own good, honey."
"RABASTAN! I DEMAND THAT YOU PUT ME DOWN!" she screamed as they left the Three Broomsticks. Rabastan dropped her without ceremony onto the snow-covered street. She fell on her arse and felt the mush seep into her clothes. She was going to catch a cold if she stayed down there, but the world was spinning. She fell over onto the street. "What have I done to you to deserve this?"
"Get up," Rabastan instructed, but Rosalind was too busy trying to fight back the tears to pay attention. He sighed and plucked her off the street. There was a small pop and the streets of Hogsmeade were empty. Only the howling winter wind remained.
"Till, fetch something warm for your mistress," Rabastan said the moment they arrived at Lestrange Manor. He set Rosalind, who was shivering, on the couch.
"Till, would you mind getting me something warm as well?" Rosalind said through chattering teeth.
Till looked at her master with a confused look for a moment.
"That's what I said," Rabastan said, at the end of his patience.
"No, you said for her mistress. I am not her mistress. I'm her Rosalind," Rosalind said, teeth still chattering.
"This is not the time to argue about terminology," Rabastan said, waving Till away. Till bowed herself out.
"I do think this is the perfect time to argue about terminology!" she declared, getting up.
"Sit down, you're going to fall over again."
"I was happy, warm and dry in there!" Rosalind screamed. "Then you come in, punch my friend in the face and now I'm miserable, wet and cold!"
"First of all, he was not your friend. Second, you were making a fool of yourself."
"Why should it matter to you, huh? I'm nothing to you, yes? I was a weekly romp, nothing more!"
Rabastan kept quiet. Clearly, there was something the drunk little girl needed to get off her chest and he wasn't going to stand here and argue with aforementioned drunk girl. He was going to sit. Till came back in with tea at the most opportune moment as Rosalind lost her train of thought to watch the elf.
"There, there, Miss," Till came towards Rosalind with a warm fuzzy blanket. "You need to get out of those clothes and bundle up."
Rosalind accepted the blanket, but made no motion to remove her wet clothing.
"Till is right, Rosalind. You need to get out of those wet clothes."
"Sod off," Rosalind said impolitely. "I'll see myself home."
"You're too drunk to Apparate home. Besides, is this the state you really want to be in when you go home to Papa?"
"Don't call him Papa, he's not your Papa," Rosalind said, slurring half the words in that sentence. "I'll take Floo."
"Sorry, all out."
"You're lying."
"It's my house. If I say we're out of Floo, we are. Right, Till?"
"Yes, master."
Rosalind made a noise of impatience as she walked over to the fireplace mantle, where she saw the tin of Floo Powder. She blinked and the tin disappeared. Either she was more drunk than she thought or... "Till, be a darling and give Rosalind the Floo Powder," she said gently. "I do really need to get home."
Till shook her head. While she liked Miss Rosalind, her loyalty would always be with her master.
"Merlin, what do you want from me?" she finally screeched, losing all patience. "Have I ever broken our agreements? You call, I come. You don't call, I don't come. I don't ask you for presents, I don't ask you where you've been or who you've been with, I put up with all your bullshit! I am, by far, the most agreeable whore any fool could ever desire! And yet you want my soul! You want to destroy me for every and all men! How can you be so fucking selfish?!"
Rabastan looked at her steadily from his seat. "Are you done?"
"No! I am nowhere near done! I hate you, Rabastan Lestrange. I hate you so. very. much."
"I hate you, too," Rabastan replied, steepling his fingers.
"No, that's not fair," Rosalind said, walking over to him. "That is not fair at all. I have done nothing to you to warrant your hate. You, on the other hand, have used and abused me."
"O-ho," Rabastan stood up, taking full advantage of the height difference and looking down at her. "And who came running after whom? Did I pursue you? No, I do believe you were the one stalking me, coming to my Common Room, practically throwing yourself at me. You've got no one to blame but yourself."
"I don't blame you," Rosalind hissed. "But that doesn't mean I don't have every right to hate you," she said, striking his chest with a small fist. He didn't even flinch. She hit him again. He grabbed her wrists and squeezed. She cried out in pain. "See? This is why I hate you!" she screamed.
"No, you don't hate me," Rabastan said angrily, squeezing harder. "Tell me who you really hate."
"YOU!" she screamed and jerked her wrists away, but he held them firm.
"Say it."
"NO!" she yelled, tears now streaming down her face from a mixture of drunkeness, cold, misery and physical pain.
"One last chance, Rosalind."
"AURELIA!" she thrashed. "I hate her! I hate her with every fibre of my being."
"And why do you hate her?"
"Because you don't."
"That's more like it," Rabastan said, dropping her wrists. She fell to the floor without any means of support.
"Merlin, why couldn't you have just left me alone?" she muttered at the floor.
She felt him touch her cheek. "...because I don't hate you either."