RP: Caught in the Middle

[shh_orla]

Date: 5 December 2007
Characters: Orla Quirke, Ron Weasley, Rabastan Lestrange
Location: Quirky Thoughts
Status: Private
Summary: The day of the promised mediation arrives, and with it, some anxieties.
Completion: INComplete

Orla had spent the remainder of the week cleaning up, fielding owls about the women's group, and generally trying to avoid worrying

Comments

[shh_rabastan]

Rabastan refrained from glaring at the young woman's comment. He realized that she was only trying to help. "Ron, I am not proud of the role I played in the war, but that was all it was... a role. A characterization built only to keep my brother and as many others as possible alive. Voldemort needed the perfect poster boy for his campaign to bring the purebloods he did not have aligned with him over to his side. Join the Dark Lord. Lestrange did." Rabastan said with a sneer. "Voldemort wanted the credibility of the Lestrange name behind him and he wanted the family fortune. He could not get either without my father or me. I used my place to save as many lives as I could. The same thing I do with my relief work all over the globe. I have never wished to see harm come to anyone. I am profoundly grateful that Voldemort and Bellatrix are dead but I could not have killed even them myself."

He looked at Ron askance, "You said that the other night. I thought that you meant the sweat gave nightmares, not me." Rabastan thought back to what exactly Ron said, "You mentioned memories as well." He was confused about what was going on but if there was any assistance he could offer he was willing. "Miss Quirke, you are familiar with both of our situations. I give you and Ron whatever leave you need to ask me anything that you think might help you with his situation. I assume he explained about the sweat and Seven Grandfathers. I am not terribly familiar with North American Native customs however Cedric and I have discussed commonalities between our adoptive peoples. Visions are not at all uncommon, but I cannot imagine that nightmares would be any more common from an Ojibway sweat than an Inca."

Rabastan allowed her platitudes and over simplification regarding the Longbottoms to roll off of him. He'd already determined that her particular style of therapy would not suit him at all. It was not Miss Quirke's fault that he did not respond well to her usual methods and they seemed to work fine on Ron. He simply nodded and controlled his countenance.

[shh_ron]

Rabastan insisted that he was only playing a part during the earlier war. Ron knew, from what Harry had learned about Sirius' brother, Regulus, that Voldemort had some horrible ways of extracting loyalty. Turning to Rabastan he said, "I've heard a few other stories of how Voldemort coerced people to be on his side, so I'm not too surprised that it happened to your family too. Sounds like you were sort of a traitor in the Dark Lord's camp all those years. Not to be too nosy, but I've got to wonder how you got away with all that. You know, the saving lives and stuff." His anger had ebbed away to the point where he mostly felt tired and curious.

"No, I didn't have any nightmares right after the sweat," Ron explained. "The nightmares started after I found out who you were. Well, they started again, really. I'd had them off and on during the war but I sort of shut down that part of my brain once the war stopped. I reckon the sweat sort of opened that up a bit. Afterwards I felt like something had shifted inside my brain. But the nightmares didn't start for almost two weeks. Memories...yeah, like I said, I got memories I didn't want. I remembered some hexes I had to use. I remembered just how I killed that Death Eater. Like I said, it happened in self-defence, but it was bloody and sort of gruesome. Not really the sort of thing you want to remember, and that ended up in my dreams too."

Leaning forward, he shoved a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. "So...Neville...'spose he ought to know about his parents."

[shh_rabastan]

"Voldemort knew I was there against my will. He was more interested in fealty and obedience than loyalty. I am quite sure that if he did not think he needed me or my money, I would have been killed. He very nearly did kill me once, but I confess I was trying to make him angry enough to do just that. Instead I received this lovely souvenir." Rabastan drew his finger along the scar on his face. "I think it also amused him to trying to turn me. He was a sick bastard... pardon my language, Miss Quirke... but a brilliant one, who at least before his 'return' from the dead, greatly enjoyed a challenge. I presented one." It was more complicated than that but true in essentials. "I was often sent to negotiate and find or buy things for him. I was very good at it. I was also good at finding ways to make sure what I found did not work exactly as planned once delivered or at seeing that the alliances would fall apart at a crucial moment. Pity that," he smirked. "Leglimency only gets you so far when the person you are using it against has found your weakness and understands the loopholes."

Rabastan looked at him, "Describe what you mean by 'shifted'?"

"I will consider it then. Perhaps, Miss Quirke, you might agree to mediate again instead of my writing?" Rabastan also wanted to consult with Ginevra again for her opinion of her brother's opinion.

[shh_orla]

Orla listened to them both It was clear Ron wasn't as angry with Rabastan, if somewhat resigned to the fact that Rabastan wasn't the villain he'd always believed him to be. She hoped he'd come to find a sense of peace about what he'd learned.

"Of course I'd be willing to mediate." She said immediately. Neville, for the few times she'd talked to him, seemed sweet, and she wanted to help him as much as possible.

She looked at them both. "Now that you know all this about each other, how are you both feeling?" She wanted them to leave today with a feeling of accomplishment, or at the very lease some peace.

[shh_ron]

Ron had to admit that Rabastan Lestrange wasn't really what he'd believed him to be. "Sick bastard's about right," he agreed. He could tell stories of the way Voldemort tried to torture Harry through the long-distance connection between their minds, but those were Harry's stories to tell, and Ron doubted he ever would. He felt a grudging admiration for Rabastan's efforts to subvert Voldemort's desires. "Bit of a rebel there, weren't you? So that scar's really a mark of honour."

"Shifted? I reckon I had a mental block about those bad memories, y'know?" He shrugged. "The sweat must've broken through that somehow."

Rabastan asked Orla to mediate between himself and Neville, and she quickly agreed. When she asked how they both felt, Ron paused and blew out a deep breath. "Lot less angry," he admitted. "Don't say this very often, but it looks like I was wrong."

[shh_rabastan]

"I have always been a bit odd," Rabastan chuckled. "More a mark of stupidity. It is... was a curse scar. The curse was removed by a very talented healer this past spring."

Rabastan shook his head, "Did you talk to Jeff or Cedric about this? I have heard of visions, revelations and other gifts from the spirits, but bad memories does not sound usual. We weren't really even in there that long."

Rabastan looked at him and it took a moment for what he said to completely register. "Thank you. I appreciate that. I trust that it might be acceptable to say hello again in the future without inciting an incident, then?" Rabastan grinned.

[shh_ron]

Ron nodded. He had his own curse scar and he was glad it was in a much less obvious place. "Really? You had the curse removed... I've got a curse scar on my left leg. The bugger hurt like hell last winter but I saw one of the mediwitches at the hospital, an old friend of mine, and she fixed it up pretty well. 'Spose yours would've been a bear to remove, though, what with it coming from the Dark Lord himself."

He shook his head. "No, I never talked with either of them. By the time I started having nightmares, I think Jeff had gone back to Canada. And it never really occurred to me to talk with Cedric. I've not had any really bad nightmares in a long time, though; I don't think since about May. It's just the ones I had last spring were so vivid I've not forgot them, but I know what they were about"-- he glanced at Orla -- "and I've dealt with them."

Ron gave Rabastan a sidelong glance with a hint of a smile. "I reckon that would work. Don't expect to be best mates with you or whatnot, but we can be civil toward each other."

[shh_orla]

Orla noticed that Rabastan didn't admit to feeling any different. Not too surprising, since he tended to keep what he felt to himself. Though he'd shared more than she expected.

When they started talking about curse scars, Orla stood. "Can I get us some tea?" They seemed to be on a good basis, and didn't really need her. They had just needed a neutral place to talk things out.

[shh_rabastan]

"I was extraordinarily fortunate to find the only healer who could have helped me. It is a great relief to have the curse gone even if nothing could be done to restore my looks," Rabastan smiled. He had never been self-conscious about it other than he disliked that it seemed to make muggles uncomfortable so he often placed a glamour over it when dealing with them.

Rabastan chuckled, "I believe I can live with that, Ron." He offered his hand to shake. "Well, Miss Quirke, I suppose I will need to offer testimonials for you now," he grinned. "I think some tea would be lovely, thank you."

[shh_ron]

When Rabastan offered his hand, Ron realised he would have to shake hands with him or appear to be reneging on what he'd just said. Nodding, he shook the other man's hand firmly but briefly. There was no laughter, no clapping of his other hand on Rabastan's upper arm, as he might have done with someone he felt more friendly toward. They'd reached a truce. If Rabastan did speak with Neville without freaking him out, Ron could probably be more than civil toward him, but that remained to be seen.

"You were very lucky to find such a good healer," Ron said. "He must be very knowledgeable and probably a powerful wizard." He looked toward Orla. "Tea would be good, thanks. 'Bout time for that anyway, yeah?"

[shh_rabastan]

"She is very talented indeed," Rabastan corrected gently.

"Miss Quirke, if you were to pass me my bag, I would be pleased to offer the tin of Christmas biscuits my friend pressed upon me this afternoon to accompany our tea."