Muhaha, Jenny, Muhaha.
Title: One Last Night
Genre: NonRomance, as usual
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Bungses, Till
Rating: PG, for random...stuff.
Word Count: 775 words
Summary: Rosalind has a favor to ask before Rabastan gets married.
Author's Notes: Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #1 Spring. Will be edited to fit in something special, so look out for that.
"I love you. I've tried to forget you, God knows I have. But I can't. One last night and I swear I'm gone."
Rabastan opened his eyes slowly. He ached in a way that wasn't just physical. He rolled over and couldn't explain the sort of gnawing in his belly as he felt the other side of his bed was cold. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the night before. But it was impossible. He balled his hand into a fist. It had been two months since he'd last seen her. It had been two months since he had announced his engagement to Aurelia. She'd always said she knew he would never marry her. That he'd find some beautiful, intelligent pureblood worthy of him. He'd claimed that was Aurelia. She'd always said that she'd bow out gracefully when he tired of her. And she had. He'd told her he was marrying and she had silently nodded and left.
The only part of the deal she ever broke was falling in love with him.
He got up. He had to break something. As if she had read his thoughts, Till came in with tea and brandy -- and two extra cups. He immediately picked one of the delicate teacups up and threw it against the wall. It crashed loudly and shattered. Till visibly jumped before setting her tray on a nearby table.
"Does Master not like the new cups?" Till asked softly. Rabastan's head shot up and he looked at the remaining teacup. It was of a design he'd never seen. He picked it up to examine it while Till went to fix the one he had smashed.
"When did we get these?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Miss Rosalind said they were of Romanian crafting," Till answer, bringing the other cup to him for his perusal. "They're both a set of eight and come with a teapot. Shall I place them on display, Master?"
"No," Rabastan answered. "Toss them."
"Very well, Master," Till bowed. "Will there be anything else?"
"Not now."
Till bowed again and left, taking the two cups with her. He made a mental note to ask her again if she had disposed of them. He did not like the way she was possessively clutching them against her chest.
Rabastan fell against his sheets. The contents of the glass he was holding spilled onto his bed. He stared at the dark liquid as it seeped into his mattress.
To the very end of their relationship, she'd always slept with her back to him. Until last night. She'd clutched him like there was no letting go. Even as he lay on his back, spent, she'd linked her fingers in his and laid her head on his chest.
"I had to go to Romania to keep myself from running back here."
I broke a quill every time the desire to run after you got too strong. In fact, the quill on my bedside has been broken no less than fifty-seven times.
"I only intended to see you...I never intended to seduce you away from your engagement."
You could never have unless I wanted it, too.
"I didn't even intend to speak to you. I just wanted...a glimpse. So I could hold your picture in my heart."
Dammit, why can't I say anything out loud?
"I love you."
I--
"I'm sorry."
"Don't--cry," he muttered as he gathered her in his arms to hold her. And kiss her. And keep her warm in his arms for as long as that night lasted.
He took a steadying breath. The pillow smelled of her shampoo. The blankets smelled like her skin. He ran his fingers over the fabric and breathed in deeply. He was tempted to hide it away. No, he was stronger than that. And it would not be fair to Aurelia. "Till!" he called, standing up. The world swam for a minute. The brandy.
"Yes, Master?"
"Change the sheets," he ordered, walking clumsily to his bathroom.
"Yes, Master."
"And burn them."
"Ah, l'amour It is spring! Look, the roses are blooming," Alphonse declared, looking at the rose bushes behind their home. He had returned to England from France and had decided to stay for a little while. He grabbed his sister and twirled her around.
Rosalind laughed. "Not so hard, Alphonse," she scolded, removing the vicegrip from around her waist.
"Why are you so--"
There was the soft tinkle of china as her parents put their teacups down.
Nasi and Sevastien turned to look at her.
"Onie," Nasi began. "You've gotten fat."
Genre: NonRomance, as usual
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Bungses, Till
Rating: PG, for random...stuff.
Word Count: 775 words
Summary: Rosalind has a favor to ask before Rabastan gets married.
Author's Notes: Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #1 Spring. Will be edited to fit in something special, so look out for that.
"I love you. I've tried to forget you, God knows I have. But I can't. One last night and I swear I'm gone."
Rabastan opened his eyes slowly. He ached in a way that wasn't just physical. He rolled over and couldn't explain the sort of gnawing in his belly as he felt the other side of his bed was cold. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the night before. But it was impossible. He balled his hand into a fist. It had been two months since he'd last seen her. It had been two months since he had announced his engagement to Aurelia. She'd always said she knew he would never marry her. That he'd find some beautiful, intelligent pureblood worthy of him. He'd claimed that was Aurelia. She'd always said that she'd bow out gracefully when he tired of her. And she had. He'd told her he was marrying and she had silently nodded and left.
The only part of the deal she ever broke was falling in love with him.
He got up. He had to break something. As if she had read his thoughts, Till came in with tea and brandy -- and two extra cups. He immediately picked one of the delicate teacups up and threw it against the wall. It crashed loudly and shattered. Till visibly jumped before setting her tray on a nearby table.
"Does Master not like the new cups?" Till asked softly. Rabastan's head shot up and he looked at the remaining teacup. It was of a design he'd never seen. He picked it up to examine it while Till went to fix the one he had smashed.
"When did we get these?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Miss Rosalind said they were of Romanian crafting," Till answer, bringing the other cup to him for his perusal. "They're both a set of eight and come with a teapot. Shall I place them on display, Master?"
"No," Rabastan answered. "Toss them."
"Very well, Master," Till bowed. "Will there be anything else?"
"Not now."
Till bowed again and left, taking the two cups with her. He made a mental note to ask her again if she had disposed of them. He did not like the way she was possessively clutching them against her chest.
Rabastan fell against his sheets. The contents of the glass he was holding spilled onto his bed. He stared at the dark liquid as it seeped into his mattress.
To the very end of their relationship, she'd always slept with her back to him. Until last night. She'd clutched him like there was no letting go. Even as he lay on his back, spent, she'd linked her fingers in his and laid her head on his chest.
"I had to go to Romania to keep myself from running back here."
I broke a quill every time the desire to run after you got too strong. In fact, the quill on my bedside has been broken no less than fifty-seven times.
"I only intended to see you...I never intended to seduce you away from your engagement."
You could never have unless I wanted it, too.
"I didn't even intend to speak to you. I just wanted...a glimpse. So I could hold your picture in my heart."
Dammit, why can't I say anything out loud?
"I love you."
I--
"I'm sorry."
"Don't--cry," he muttered as he gathered her in his arms to hold her. And kiss her. And keep her warm in his arms for as long as that night lasted.
He took a steadying breath. The pillow smelled of her shampoo. The blankets smelled like her skin. He ran his fingers over the fabric and breathed in deeply. He was tempted to hide it away. No, he was stronger than that. And it would not be fair to Aurelia. "Till!" he called, standing up. The world swam for a minute. The brandy.
"Yes, Master?"
"Change the sheets," he ordered, walking clumsily to his bathroom.
"Yes, Master."
"And burn them."
"Ah, l'amour It is spring! Look, the roses are blooming," Alphonse declared, looking at the rose bushes behind their home. He had returned to England from France and had decided to stay for a little while. He grabbed his sister and twirled her around.
Rosalind laughed. "Not so hard, Alphonse," she scolded, removing the vicegrip from around her waist.
"Why are you so--"
There was the soft tinkle of china as her parents put their teacups down.
Nasi and Sevastien turned to look at her.
"Onie," Nasi began. "You've gotten fat."