RP: Short notice

[pb_rabastan]

Characters: Rabastan Lestrange & Pansy Parkinson
Location: The apartment/respective --> Pansy's apartment
Date: 26th April 2000
Status/Warning: Private/swearing
Summary: News gets around fast
Completion: Incomplete

Comments

[pb_pansy]

Pansy left everything as it was. She considered taking the Floo back to her flat. She only had about five hours to prepare. She would need to bathe, exfoliate, do her hair, nails, makeup, decide on an appropriate gown or negligee, and make sure her brandy and and cigar supply was adequate. On second though, she would solve the brandy and cigar issue before going home by picking up additional supplies first. It never hurt to have extra on hand. Rabastan was occasionally unpredictable

[pb_pansy]

"Pouting? I wouldn't pout at you, Rabastan." Pansy fluttered her eyelashes.

"No, it's not your fault." He couldn't help being a fugitive. Not unless he wanted to turn himself in, that was. Pansy certainly didn't want him to do that. She'd never be allowed to visit him in prison. Rabastan said he was interested in an answer to his question. Pansy looked at him not sure it wasn't some sort of trick. Deciding it wasn't, she replied. "It's the level of maturity. I don't believe that men talk publicly about women or girls in ways that can damage their reputations, at least gentlemen don't. I suspect that some level of Quidditch changing room humor goes on at a ladies expense even among men but they're mature enough to understand that their claims and speculations would be hurtful or cause problems for the woman if spread about. Boys don't care who they hurt as long as they have their fun."

"Would you prefer brandy instead of the wine?" She wanted him to have whatever he wanted.

[pb_rabastan]

At that declaration, Rabastan just snorted his amusement. At least she was entertaining. It would irk him later that she had successfully made him forget his irritation over her escape

[pb_pansy]

Pansy didn't like feeling as if she always missing something. She used to be the leader of her gang of girls. Now she was almost always floundering. "Conversation isn't all, I suppose. It's important, I think. Oh, I don't know. I thought so many things that are turning out not to be true at all." She thought she and Draco would get back together. She thought Draco was a gentleman. She thought Blaise was a gentleman. She thought wrong.

"Not at all. You're my guest. I want you to be happy. Gully, bring Mr Lestrange the brandy bottle," she directed. "Please help yourself."

[pb_rabastan]

"No, but how a man - or boy - conducts himself in public or even among his closest friends can say a lot about them." Rabastan paused to think that over, trying not to smirk. What in Merlin's name did it say about him? It said nothing about Rodolphus. His brother's social filter had long since died. The only difference was the degree of violence that came with his words. "Without meaning to sound patronising--" A lie. "--you're still young. You have years of that kind of disappointment ahead of you."

"I don't do 'happy'," he confessed. He never really had. There had been moments when he definitely thought life was good, but the dictionary definition of happy was something apparently beyond his reach. Not that he cared much. It was just a word and he had better things to be doing. "Thank you." As per usual, the first glass was drained in a matter of seconds.

[pb_pansy]

Pansy sighed. She knew he didn't mean to sound patronizing but he did. "I'm beginning to grasp that. I don't think it's very nice of you to point it out. Women like to think there is a Mr Right waiting around the corner."

"You should though. You really should." She reached for his arm to pat him. "Rabastan, I do so want for you to be happy." She wanted to be the one to make him happy. Pansy withdrew her hand. She didn't want to annoy him and she noticed he often became annoyed with her when she clung to him. She picked up her fork to nibble on her dinner to prevent herself from fondling him.

"Can you at least tell if you'll be staying around for awhile or will you be leaving again soon?" She missed him when he was away.

[pb_rabastan]

"M'not talking about Mr Right," Rabastan said with an arched eyebrow, "I meant in general, but far be it from me to stop you from depressing yourself

[pb_pansy]

Pansy looked at him blankly. "Are you saying that, in general, men and boys will always be disappointing?" She didn't want to be depressed. She didn't want to be disappointed. This was all Draco Malfoy's fault. If he'd only got back with her like he was supposed to, they would be planning their wedding right now. If Blaise would have seen he had a proper chance with her if he'd only act like a gentleman instead of a cad, they could be happy together. If Rabastan could only realize how attracted she was to him and see her as more than a little girl, she was sure they could have a torrid love affair. It its own way, a more enticing idea than marriage because it would leave her free to continue with her fashion design and do as she pleased when they weren't making hot, passionate love

[pb_rabastan]

"What? No." Another brandy was called for. If only because he'd realised he actually used the phrase 'Mr Right' in a serious conversation. "Life is. It has very little to do with boys and men." He swilled the brandy around the glass for a moment before knocking it back. "And boys disappoint you regardless, so what do you care?" It wasn't that he wanted to burst any romantic bubble Pansy may be living in, he just couldn't deal with having to be on the other end of that kind of discussion. Life is fucked, move on. Nothing to see here.

Rabastan tilted his head to one side, an almost mournful smile ghosting across his lips before immediately fading again. "We tried that little crusade. I ended up in prison." He regarded Pansy with a degree of interest for a moment. Why she bothered speaking to him at all was beyond him. "Have you ever met a Dementor? Really met one?" He wasn't trying to drag up old wounds, and he certainly wasn't looking for sympathy. But it was hard to 'make yourself happy' after fourteen years of playing with the

[pb_pansy]

"I care because I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy." Even Mudbloods and blood traitors were happy these days. She certainly deserved it more than they did.

"Not personally. I've been around a Dementor though. They were on the train to Hogwarts and around the grounds the year that Sirius Black person escaped Azkaban." They made her feel as if she'd never be happy again. It was awful.

"I set all the wards you taught me and told me to before. Do I need more? I don't know any more. Will you help me? I am dreadfully afraid of werewolves." She'd probably not have run off despite needing to see to her business if she hadn't been positively frantic once she knew they would be gathering werewolves.

[pb_rabastan]

"Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but how did you figure that one out?" Rabastan shrugged with one hand and shook his head. He was far too jaded to have this conversation with someone who clearly still held a lot of hope. "People don't get what they deserve, they get what comes along at that specific moment in time."

"Yeah, well he's dead now," he stated with a smirk. Killed by an archway. Now that was how to go out. "I like Dementors as long as they're annoying someone else. Removing someone's soul -- that's hard to top." But he'd love to try.

"Those were intended for Fenrir," he pointed out. And there was only one of him. They were bringing in packs. "And I hate them in general, but what can you do?" There was little he could do past what he had already done. The wards he'd initially given her were stronger than they needed to be for one wolf and anything stronger risked drawing the Ministry's attention. Instead, he shrugged in a manner that was almost apologetic but mostly half-arsed.