Confrontation (Rabastan Lestrange) - Tea Room, Dec 1980

[Daisy Hookum]

23 December 1980

It had been a slow night, which was nice given how close it was to Christmas. It was always hard to see the upset families coming in around the holidays. She always preferred the customers she didn’t recognize, it meant they didn’t spend a lot of time at the hospital. The ones she did, well, it broke her heart when they came in. Broke it even more when they stopped coming in, because it never meant anything good. But it was this one customer who peaked her interest, the one that never talked to her. He would order and sit, that was all. She wondered if he came every day, if any of the other people got him to speak. Clearly his story couldn’t be a happy one. Generally she would avoid talking to those who wanted to be left alone, but with all the tables and dishes clean, she’d been staring at the same page on the book in front of her. Setting it down, she grabbed a cloth and pretend to wipe down the counter as she looked out at him. “You know, you’ve never given me your name.”

”I get it if you don’t want to talk, but I’m Daisy. If you want to talk,” she stated, before looking back down at the counter. ”With the holidays coming up, it can’t be easy. Seems like you’re here almost as often as me. Sorry, I’m babbling. Just, the offer is there.” There, now at least she was trying. If he didn’t talk to her, at least she could go home feeling better about herself. Besides, it was almost time for someone else to come and take her place, surely she could read some more of her book and still have the time pass quickly?

[Rabastan Lestrange]

In the last weeks, Rabastan's life had taken a turn towards the dull. When he had first been summoned to their Lord for a special assignment, the difficult-to-excite man had felt his importance was finally being realized. He did not do what he did for the glory, but it was nonetheless a moment of pride for him to be recognized. Certainly he was being seen for the devoted Death Eater he was, and given a promotion deserving of his skills. What he had received, though, was nothing at all like his expectation.

He had spent these days tailing the young Mrs. Pettigrew, wife of a young man under scrutiny by their Lord. Pettigrew was another mystery to Rabastan; what did their Lord have to gain by having him under his thumb? He knew better than to demand - or even ask - for details. Whatever it was, it was important enough for Rabastan to be ordered to spend his valuable time within reach of the girl. A looming threat, pressure on the skinny Gryffindor graduate to do as commanded. The Lord trusts you to do this. He does see potential.

And so, yet again, Rabastan found himself within the St. Mungo's teashop, idly reading The Daily Prophet as his black tea cooled before him, nearly untouched. He usually kept his distance from her as she went about her days, save for these hours at the shop. What could he do instead, loiter by the door? As long as she did not notice him outside of this space, there could be no harm. The monotony of his "visits" was broken as the girl spoke...to him? He had prepared for this moment, naturally, but still...Make this count.

Rabastan raised his eyes from the newspaper politely, and upon finding her gaze on him, granted her a look of contemplation. Long having worked out various backstories - what else was he to do to keep his mind busy when she was at the grocery comparing vegetables? - it was with careful hesitation (he was in pain, and such an intrusion was surely at least slightly unwelcome) that he slowly folded the newspaper. "I appreciate it - Daisy, was it?" He needed to entertain himself somehow, and even if his brother was better at charm...he could play this part. "That's a beautiful name, it suits your kind heart. My name is Rabastan. I...I have a younger cousin here. Fourth floor. Long-term residents' ward." The man swallowed, "knowing" she would know what that meant for his family. "I feel terribly for it, but sometimes...I've worked up the nerve to visit...only to find myself here, instead. People say it will get easier with time, but that doesn't seem to be the case for me. I'm sorry," he said, "shaken." "I shouldn't complain. I've got my mind, my health...Please, if you would - tell me about yourself, Daisy. How did you come to work here?"

[Daisy Hookum]

He was meeting her gaze, which was at least better than him completely ignoring her. There was something about the way he looked at her that gave her a chill, an odd feeling she didn’t like. He seemed like he had wanted to be left alone, and she had interrupted whatever he was doing. It shouldn’t be surprising that he might be a little annoyed with her, but thankfully he was speaking to her. She gave a nod to her name, leaning on the counter to watch him as he spoke, unable to stop the blush that came when his first words were a compliment towards her. But at his next her face fell, and she let out a sigh. She should have expected something like that - most of her regulars had family in that ward. Admittedly, she avoided it when she was here, it was hard to bring herself to go someplace where there was so little hope.

”You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” she replied quietly, twisting the towel between her hands. ”It won’t get easier with time, I know that’s what people always say. It just gets...duller.” Time certainly wasn’t healing the wounds she was feeling, the loss of her mother a permanent hole in her heart. But at least she had closure, she’d buried her mother, put her to rest. To have a family member here, well it was much harder than what she was dealing with, that was for sure. ”My mother is-was a nurse here. She got me started during summers after school, and after I graduated I just decided to come back.” She hadn’t wanted to step foot into the place at first, not wanting the memories of her mother haunting her. But being at the hospital was easier at times, hearing the stories from the people her mother had worked with for years.

”But really, that’s about as exciting as my story gets,” she added with a laugh, propping her head up on the counter with her hand.

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Simpletons were so easy to manipulate, it almost took the fun out of the game he found himself in. The girl was pink with pleasure after only a few words from him; perhaps he was in for a different sort of boredom from now on. No longer being so inconspicuous about her, but rather letting her go home to Peter Pettigrew with stories about her new acquaintance, Rabastan Lestrange. With any luck that would light the, apparently, sorely needed fire under the younger man's arse. But Rabastan kept his amusement concealed, turning sympathetic blue eyes towards her as Daisy began sharing. He knew naught of her life, not really, but it was obvious from her words that she had lost someone of meaning. Now was not the appropriate moment to inquire, Rabastan knew, but he logged the information for use at a later time. "I appreciate the insight, truly I do." He nodded to her story, brow furrowing slightly at her self-correction and laughing over compensation. Was it the mother who died?

"I find that difficult to believe," Rabastan replied, giving a nod to her - specifically, to the modest diamond ring on her hand - and tapping his own wedding band. Cordelia would have killed him if he'd given her a ring like the one the girl was sporting, and truly, the thought would never have crossed his mind. No, no - refurbished Lestrange heirlooms, sparkling like new, had found new homes last spring. "You have someone who finds you and your story exciting, and that's something to be pleased about. What's he like, your husband?" Hopefully this wouldn't come off as him being too invasive; while Cordelia's work at the Leaky Cauldron did give him a means to socialize with those different from him, when he visited her he rarely engaged in conversation with others. Nights generally went better that way. But talking of significant others surely was a common way to bond, was it not? Rabastan figured he may continue to be lucky; anything more he learned about Pettigrew could do nothing but help him understand this mission.

[Daisy Hookum]

He was a good listener, attentive to her words. She had to practice to become good at listening, Charlotte had been patient enough to help her learn. She had talked her best friends ear off plenty of times, over things from simple as their dream journals to things as complicated as leaving Peter because of his work. Not that she would discuss anything of the sort with Rabastan, but it was a reminder of how much she was missing her best friend. And while she had broken up with Peter they had patched things up, evident by the ring on her finger that Rabastan was commenting on as he pointed to his own.

“You know when you are having a really great dream, one you like so much you try to go back to sleep?” she asked with a smile. “He’s like getting to live a really great dream. We’ve been together for years now, but we just had our first wedding anniversary.” It was hard to believe they’d been married for a whole year already, but time had seemed to speed up after they’d both been out of school. “What about your wife? What’s she like?”

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Rabastan smiled with as much warmth - and lack of amusement - as he could muster, as she described how the thin little man she called "husband" made her feel. Simple, and a romantic. This truly was too easy. The little redhead was eager to speak of her husband, her features softening as she thought about and spoke of Pettigrew. So you've been together since sometime at Hogwarts... "Congratulations are in order," he said smoothly, inclining his head her way. "You got together in school, then? How did it happen?" Keep her talking...Being asked about his own relationship was a logical next step, and Rabastan was glad that Daisy took it. It meant that she wanted to keep this conversation going, and get to know him. Well - the version of himself that he would allow her to know.

He could relate to her earlier words, although for as many days that being with Cordelia had been a dream, just as multitudinous were the days of nightmares. It was a natural occurrence, surely, for those in their situation; betrothed from youth, needing to grow up together and separately, both opinionated and stubborn as hell. Add in various infidelities and fights of other sorts - such as her continuing work at the wizarding pub - and the love that remained, obstinately, and... "She drives me mad," he said fondly, smirking over at the girl. "And I love her for it. We've been together for years as well, but just married last spring. You may know her, actually. Have you ever been to The Leaky Cauldron?" he asked, knowing full well that she had. "Her name's Cordelia, and she insists on working as a barmaid there."

[Daisy Hookum]

It may not have been a lifetime, but it certainly felt like it to her. She was thirteen when she had started dating Peter, they had essentially grown up together. And they had been through a lot, between their brief breakup and the death of her mother, it had seemed like life was trying to through everything at them that it could. But one day this war would be over, and the two of them could truly live their lives together. That much she was positive of. “Thank you,” she said with a laugh, absentmindedly twisting the rings on her finger. “One of his brother’s introduced us, although admittedly I had told him I was interested in Peter. I was completely embarrassed by the whole introduction of course - was practically a scene in our common room. But we’ve basically been together ever since. Had our differences of course, but that’s just how things go.”

She was glad that Rabastan was opening up to her. While she couldn’t do anything for him in regards to his poor cousin, friendly conversation could go a long way. Perhaps this time it would just be talk of their spouses, but in the future he might open up more. Her mother had always told her to consider muggle professions like counseling, but why live in a muggle world when she had this magical one? She smiled as he spoke of his wife, hoping the twitch of her smile didn’t give away the panic that set in when he mentioned her name. Of course she knew who Cordelia was - although she hadn’t realized she was no longer Cordelia Goyle. She didn’t know much about the former Slytherin girl, just that she wasn’t exactly the kindest person. The Slytherin girl’s from the year above her had always been unnecessarily cruel.

But...she did know that Cordelia had stuck up for her friends and family on more than one occasion at the Leaky, keeping them out of certain trouble. Was it really fair of her to judge the girl based on her few experiences? Daisy had certainly changed since her days in school, it wasn’t fair to assume the girl was still cruel. “I have been there, she’s an excellent barmaid. I can’t say Peter is thrilled I work here either, but that’s what we wives do. Ignore our husbands and do our own thing,” she answered with a laugh. “Besides, I think Tom would be lost without her. She’s good at keeping things under control.”

[Rabastan Lestrange]

Rabastan nodded as the woman - practically still a girl, really - spoke of this “love story” between Pettigrew and himself. How utterly banal. But one thing struck him as odd, and he leaned forward with interest as he spoke up. "One of his brothers? Is he from a large family then? Melding families takes work, I say from experience." To his research, Pettigrew was an only child. What was Daisy on about? As conversation continued, as loathe as he would be to admit it, Rabastan did enjoy toying with the young woman. Seeing the spark of fear and surprise in her doe eyes at mention of his wife, face impassive to it of course, was helping him stay present. He would absolutely tell Cordelia all about this most unusual encounter; perhaps on Daisy’s next visit to the Leaky, his wife could even bring this up, striking up conversation and new acquaintanceship, compounding on the effectiveness of this meeting...

He had to laugh begrudgingly as the girl spoke of wifely disobedience, hardly imagining that she had done to Pettigrew one quarter of what had been done to him by his beloved. The stress that that woman willfully put him through...if he didn’t know better, he’d think that she hated him. "That she is," Rabastan acknowledged, begrudging inside but putting a smiling face forth. "You and she are more alike than you may think, if you say that. It has taken me time to understand her willfulness, but - the times are changing in many ways, are they not?" He sipped from his long-cooled tea and, as if the idea was just occurring to him, continued genially, "You know, Daisy - until another customer shows up, why don’t you come sit with me? And bring yourself a cup of tea. On me, I insist. You deserve to get off of your feet." Expecting her to agree, Rabastan made room for her at the table, folding and setting aside his newspaper for good.

[Daisy Hookum]

There was something that struck her as Rabastan leaned forward, something she couldn’t place. Was she imagining things, or was he a little too interested in knowing what she had meant? Have you said too much? It was hard for her to remember that not everyone could be trusted, and perhaps Peter would be upset she’d said so much. She worried about her husband constantly, his job in a secret group fighting Death Eaters practically tore her heart out. It was hard to ignore the small changes she was seeing in him, as hard as she tried. But the right people would win this, and their lives could continue on like they should have. “You could say that,” she answered with a laugh she hoped sounded genuine. Sirius, Remus and James were her husbands family, far more than his parents. And they had meddled quite enough for her likely, she was glad she hardly ever saw them. “But they don’t meddle, not really.”

And finding out that his wife was Cordelia Goyle, a girl Daisy had happily avoided during school? It made her feel like she was right in feeling a bit off. People can change, perhaps she’s not so bad now. While there was something strange about him, that wasn’t so uncommon in their world. And if he wasn’t forcing Cordelia to do anything - even if he turned out to be a pureblood - he couldn’t be that bad. At his offer, she gave him a smile, knowing that refusing would just be rude. He was just another customer, dealing with a sick family member. “That would be nice, thank you,” she said, setting her cleaning towel down as she wiped her hands on her apron. It was with her wand she made quick work of getting cups poured, his tea must be cold by now, before she pocketed it gently and carried the two cups over to the table.

As she sat, she eyed the paper he sat aside for a few moments before speaking, “Never seems to be good news these days.”

[Rabastan Lestrange]

"I am glad they leave you and your husband to your affairs, then," he returned genially at the end of her false laugh. "What is it that your husband does? Is he here at the hospital as well?" What has he told you to do when faced with this question? Rabastan wondered, innocently curious in his effect, his want to get to know the simple teashop girl. And how good of a liar are you? Will you try? Whatever the girl's feelings towards him, she knew better than to refuse his gracious offer. Rabastan made room for her at the table he occupied, giving a smile as she came with two cups of tea. He smiled, making a show of blowing across the top of the new cup, his original having cooled. Warming charms on the cups wouldn't be too terrible of an investment, would it? Her demeanor fell as she took in the Prophet's front page, and Rabastan...couldn't help himself from speaking up. What he planned to say were truths of his, the truths of one who knew the necessity and futility of war more intimately than this girl ever could.

"It does seem that way," Rabastan mused, wondering just how far he could push this "first" encounter. He couldn't say or do too much, couldn't get her thinking about his allegiances - he had to be personable enough, passable enough...for f*ck's sake, this is exhausting. Rabastan trusted the will of his Lord, and knew that there were reasons for him being assigned to this detail, but...would it have been so horrible to put me on the Minister instead? "It's all a matter of perspective, though, is it not? If we choose to look at the long-term instead of the short-term, it may not seem so horrible," he said with a quick smile, as if they were in the Hogwarts debate chambers. "Neither side will end their fight, not really. There are always pockets of resistance, even in the most peaceful-seeming of times. The truce that will come...will only be temporary, regardless of the outcome. The losing side will rise again, given time. There will be another war. The wheel will spin, with all of us clinging to it with the futile hope of it being the last time." 

He chuckled, taking the moment to drink from his new cup. "I apologize for proselytizing, horrible habit of mine - human nature, war, it fascinates me in my studies. For war is human nature, Daisy, we simply can't help ourselves from getting stirred up enough to wage war. We see it throughout history, these repetitive behaviors, regardless of which humans you investigate. But this time of war will pass. People like you and me, we just need to know that respite is coming, and keep our focus forward. Forward, to the long-term - that's what truly matters. For example, where do you see yourself in a few years' time?"

[Daisy Hookum]

“Oh no, he’s a freelance photographer,” she said with a smile to the question, the practiced lie easily slipping out of her lips. It was one she was used to sharing by now, a lie she had been telling since her last year at Hogwarts. Even when they hadn’t been together, Daisy had done what she could to protect Peter’s secret. Working for the Order wasn’t exactly a proper profession, or perhaps even a legal profession, given that Auror’s were supposed to be the one chasing down Dark Wizards. But it was what Peter felt called to do, and she’d eventually accepted that it would be a part of their life together. Although you’d assumed this war would be done by now. She was glad for the distraction in preparing them both tea, but was surprised at the response she received after she looked over the Prophet.

It didn’t just seem like it was always bad news, it simply was always bad news. Reading the prophet everyday was driving her mad, and yet not keeping up with the changes in their world seemed irresponsible. It was baffling that people could distance themselves from this war, claiming that ignorance was bliss. Ignorance was a privilege, that was the truth of it. How could she not pay attention when her husband was so involved, when all the people she loved were fighting for a better world? But there was something about what Rabastan was saying to her that was...off. Of course neither side was going to give up, but a truce? She doubted that would be how this all ended. Death Eaters and You-Know-Who weren’t about to come to a peaceful agreement with the other side, and she doubted that those on the right side of history were going to give up either.

But she couldn’t deny that he could be correct, particularly when he mentioned another war. After all, this wasn’t the first time an evil wizard had threatened their society. She didn’t know a witch or wizard who couldn’t tell you about Grindelwald, and Dumbledore’s role in stopping him. Their history books were full of stories of war, from the very beginning of their existence. And the muggle world wasn’t much different, although keeping up with what was happening to them wasn’t something Daisy normally did. Fingers gently turning the teacup in her hands as Rabastan spoke to her, she hoped her face wasn’t giving away how uncomfortable the shift in conversation made her. “No need to apologize, I think you bring up some very fair points,” she spoke with a forced smile, eyes glancing to the clock. Her shift was over soon, Peter would be by - they could go home, and she could forget all about this. Everything would be fine. In the meantime, it would be rude of her to not answer the question he had asked. “I suppose I haven’t given it much thought. I suppose I’d like to think I’d have kids, maybe doing some writing. What about you?”

[Rabastan Lestrange]

"A photographer? How interesting." Her lie was delivered without fault, and Rabastan inwardly commended the girl. The Dark Lord would have no interest in a photographer. Having expected her to show some sort of tell, he didn't know whether to be disappointed or not that she hadn't. While she was obviously no true adversary to him, perhaps these meetings would at the very least be more entertaining on his part now that they'd "met." See how far he could push before she grew wary and he'd retract with a smile, some flattery, and move on. And now he would have more to report to his superior, which was hardly a bad thing. "I'd love to see some samples of his work," he continued as Daisy began on their tea, having the sense to know that it was best for her to agree to sit with him. Customer service was of the utmost importance even in a place like this, was it not? "What types of commissions does he fill? Perhaps he could do some portraiture for me and Cordelia, we have been meaning to do something of the sort."

Imagining his wife sitting for a portrait in their home with a man who was not a photographer but someone of interest to the Dark Lord was almost enough to bring the preferably stoic young man to a fit of uncontrollable laughter. She'd kill you for that, after ripping Pettigrew to shreds. And while he felt that Daisy would give him some logical reasons as to why her dear husband was unable to provide samples, and surely he was more of a still life photographer...it was nevertheless much more fun to poke at the lie, and hopefully watch her squirm to continue covering it up. 

The petite redhead let him go on his tangential path without question, and while he could read the discomfort in the heightened tension of features, of shoulders, Rabastan counted himself again impressed. She was not hot to anger, this one; could she truly agree with him, or see his side, as she indicated? Most if not all of those who had belonged to his House's most competitive adversary were stringently on the self-branded "noble" side of this war. He gave a nod to the commendation of his discourse, containing a smile as he drank his tea while her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. Give it five minutes before she claims it's time for her to close up the shop. "I'm certain that you would be a remarkable mother," he asserted at the simplicity of her wishes. "You have a good heart, Daisy, to give comfort to a stranger such as myself. But I am intrigued - what would you choose to write about? You see?" He gave an understanding smile. "We will keep moving forward, these years of strife are but stepping stones towards that beautiful future."

"As for me, at present, I work within the Portkey Office. But in a few years' time, I expect I will be on my way towards being head of the Department of Magical Transportation, perhaps even obtaining the honor by then. It is not the most glamorous work, to be sure, but the safety of our citizens is something I take great pride in ensuring." The best lies were founded in truth, or so he had learned over a lifetime of working with those who spoke more words of flowery deceit than anything else. And he had no need to invent a new identity for himself, not when he was a recognizable figure; he did work in the office, it was reasonable to assume that his aspirations lay within the department. In truth, though, he would not continue in the department after war's end. Once their side gained enough traction, really, his day job would prove unnecessary. His future belonged at the side of the Dark Lord, wherever his leader saw fit.