Wednesday

April 24th 2019

Featuring Rabastan, arcturus, and roarke

Wednesday had become a special day--but a secret special day. While Andromeda and Rodolphus were off at the Ministry, Rabastan came home early from the Foundation. Excuses were given to staff there that he was going to Knockturn, to The Coffin Shop. The necromantic boutique was not open on Wednesdays, though...and he had not been going there.

He came home to Lestrange Castle. He came to spend time with Roarke and Arcturus. His nephews had grown into little people...and he loved them. He loved their mother, too...in a different way---and their father in even another different way. They were all his family. But the boys were precious. They were good...and he meant to show them the love of a male family member. He meant to be a role model for them...and he meant to be present for them, even in their youth.

They deserved so much better than he had received. He had known too well the pain of a father's neglect. But unlike the boys, he'd had no mother either. Ronan had shunned him from birth. He'd taken Rodolphus off with him on trips before the elder Lestrange had gone off to Hogwarts, but never Rabastan. Rabastan had spent his formative years in this cold, empty castle with only the elves to care for him. Ori and Eri had been his mother's--and they were his now. He cared for them more than his brother would have ever approved of.

He was just softer than Rodolphus. He had more heart to him. He had more capacity to love and a much greater need to be loved. His softness had been punished in childhood. It had been punished in Azkaban. He had gone quite insane in that place. Abandonment issues had been multiplied as chips of his grip of reality had been whittled away by days and weeks in a cold dark cell.

But he was better now. Not fixed. But treated and medicated. He went to therapy. He was not too proud to acknowledge he required help. He did. He had always been aware of his mental issues. He had studied psychology to master himself, to move past the damage of his childhood. He couldn't get past the damage of Azkaban on his own. He had to have help--and he had sought it. He took his potions. He trained his brain to think the way it needed to, to dispel and reject the dark despair that could pull him into a catatonic state. Rabastan knew to well how easily he could relapse into psychosis.

He didn't want that. He wanted days like this. He wanted time spent with Roarke and Arcturus playing and rough-housing. He wanted to hear the ring of the boys' laughter and the feeling of being part of a family. These days off work weren't something he told Andromeda about--and obviously, he had not shared stories of them with Rodolphus. A clever bribe kept Sophia quiet about it, too. The nanny, as well as the elves--especially Faye, Ori, and Eri--knew that Andromeda trusted Rabastan with the boys. He was good with them. He peeled them grapes and played silly games with them. Rabastan didn't think of it as raising his brother's sons. He thought of it as being present in the life of the next generation of Lestranges. He thought of himself as being for the boys what Antonin had been for him.

Each Wednesday meant something different for the three or four hours the trio spent together. Sometimes, Rabastan would just play with the boys in their room and then read to them before they went down for their nap. Next week, he had something special planned. He'd found a mazioologist that was going to bring a few harmless magical creatures by for Roarke and Arcturus to meet. They loved Odin. They would surely be delighted with a niffler. He just had to make sure there was nothing shiny of too much worth nearby. It would not be fun to explain he had invited a kleptomaniac creature into the house as part of his weekly play date with the boys.

Today was nothing so grand. They were playing parachute. Rabastan was on his knees with Roarke a few feet away on his right and Arcturus mirroring his brother but on the left side. Each of the boys was tightly gripping the edge of the small sheet they were using for the game.

"Up, up, up!" Rabastan instructed, the boys joining in with a chorus of UP as they lifted their hands up above their head. The sheet lifted slowly until the two children could see one another beneath it. Rab leaned his head over to peek at them, making a silly face that set Roake off on a giggle fit. "Unca Basan!" he cried, and Rabastan grinned widely.

It was a silly little game, but it taught the boys to listen and follow directions. It helped hone their motor skills. Rabastan cared about trying to make the fun educational if he could. "Okay, now, down, down, down!" the wizard said, eyeing each of the boys back and forth. Arcturus had been expecting that they would go under the sheet. The little boy ducked his head, but caught himself before tumbling down or diving under the sheet. They all lowered it all the way back down to the floor. Four little fists and two much larger ones held the sheet to the ground.

Rabastan made crazy eyes back and forth between the boys. "Are you ready?" He asked, and then asked the question again, and asked it one more time until he was met with a chorus of affirmative replies. "Okay, fast as you can. UP!" Roarke and Arcturus pushed off the ground with their little legs both jumping and almost falling over. "AND UNDER!" The boys dove under the sheet, Rabastan made a wave with the sheet causing it float up over his head before scooching more carefully forward underneath its cover. The sheet drifted down over them as the boys launched themselves at their uncle. Both were already demanding that they play again, again, again!

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

Thursday

april 25th, 2019 3am

featuring Rabastan, Arcturus, and Roarke

Midnight had become two am, which had turned into three. Rabastan had been reviewing research reports nearly half the night. That was a price he paid for spending the afternoon with Arcturus and Roarke. That was alright with him--more than. Time with the boys was a precious thing. As was time with their mother. Rabastan loved Andromeda. Whether he should or not, he did. His brother had to know it. Rodolphus wasn't that blind. It showed. Rabastan even fought to keep it hidden, but it still showed. He couldn't make his eyes lie when he looked at her. He couldn't always conquer the smile that turned up his lips when she walked into a room.

If there was one thing he had always been good at, it was loving his brother's wives. Not Blair. He hadn't been in love with Blair. But he had loved Bellatrix. He had loved her viciousness. He had loved her power. He had loved that he could pour out his pain with her--not verbally, of course, but he could let it out as they tortured, maimed and killed. He could make it disappear with the vials and drink. Maybe the MDMA was to blame for all the love he felt towards her. Maybe it was all just chemically manufactured in the brain by all those pretty little potions they drank together.

But he didn't get high with Andromeda. The pain poured out between them passed their lips in spoken word and secret confession. It was an entirely different sort of intimacy than he had ever had with anyone else. The comfort, conversation, and companionship that he found with her made him dream of what could have been, what might have been...if she had married him when they were young. If she had run to him instead of running away. He had thought her a fine match when he had been a young man. He had thought her a friend. He had known her. But not as he knew her now.

Her mind had always been a marvel. She was so brilliant. Clever and sharp, Andromeda truly was the best of the Black sisters. She had risen above being a wife or a pretty ornament. She had risen above being a soldier infatuated with an unworthy god. She had been the master of her own destiny. She had saved herself. She hadn't needed a prince. She hadn't needed him.

Rabastan had need of her, though. He had need of the soft smiles. He had need of the complex questions. He had need of so much. But she was his brother's wife. That thought always skulked about in the shadows of his mind, just at the edge of every happy moment the pair shared. Rabastan did not believe that Rodolphus deserved her or the love she cared for him. He could not love her. But Rabastan did. He loved her and the boys.

The late hour did not matter to him. He'd gone to the West Wing at this time of night, or morning, before. Andromeda slept little. They shared this habit or trait, the psychologist in him was unconvinced by either side of the argument on whether sleep tendencies were genetic or set by habit. He wanted to see her, to talk to her. He had nothing of great importance to bring to her attention. But he could check in on the boys. He could see her. She wouldn't mind. She was sleeping in the nursery with the boys. It had been that way for a touch over a month now since she had stopped sleeping in the bed with her husband.

In the first few weeks, Rabastan had been hesitant to come to the nursery, to visit her. He had worried he would find that she had returned to the Master suite. But that fear did not register in his mind tonight. It should have. But he was too focused on the thought of how seeing her would make him feel--of the peace that came from being around her.

He was not going to find it tonight. When Rabastan quietly turned the doorknob and pushed the nursery door open, he found the couch where Andromeda usually would have been laying empty. He took a step into the room. And another. His body slumped down and he sank onto the couch. His head hung forward. He was such a fool.

Arcturus made a little grumbling sound in his sleep. It matched the tight knot that had settled into the bottom of Rabastan's stomach. Unseen weight pressed on his chest and an invisible hand constricted around his throat. He ignored the unpleasant sensations as best he could and stood up, silently moving over to the Black heir's bed. A gentle hand was placed on the boy's back and Rabastan made soft circles soothing the child through his dream.

No one was going to soothe him through this though. This was no dream. Andromeda had gone back to Rodolphus's bed. And that truth hurt. Rabastan had no shortage of envy for his brother. The Lord Lestrange was a taker. He was the first born. The world was his by right. And there had never been anything for the younger brother. And some part of the wizard believed there never would be anything for him... because Rod would always take it. No matter what it was. Why else would the elder Lestrange have taken Andromeda to bed all those years ago? She was supposed to have been Rabastan's wife. Yes, she had left him. Yes, she had taken a filthy animal for a husband...but there were countless other women Rodolphus could have indulged in an affair with. Rabastan had seen multitudes come and go over the years. His brother had never been one for faithfulness. Their father had taught him it was not necessary. A wife had a duty to be only for her husband, but the man could have as many mistresses as he wished. Rabastan did not even fault Rod for the countless women he had taken to bed. He just didn't understand--Why did Rod have to have her, too? He had no answer to that question. He'd never have it. 

It was pointless to think about. Rodolphus had the loving wife and beautiful sons. Rabastan had work to  throw himself into. He wouldn't be able to focus on it anymore tonight, though. 

Arcturus was sleeping soundly again--so, Rabastan took the few steps over to check on Roarke. A soft little snore from the boy made him worry that the child might be a bit congested. The wizard went and pulled out the humidifier and then set it up on Roarke's side of the nursery. His hand brushed over the boy's head in a gentle affection as he passed back by.

He did not go back to the couch. A drink was calling his name, so he left the nursery. Pulling the door closed behind him, the Lestrange moved much more quickly through the darkened halls than he had on the journey from his study to the nursery. Rabastan wanted to put as much space between him and the West wing as possible. He did not even want to be in the castle. There just was nowhere else for him to go. He had dismissed Anya. She had grown too attached to him. In truth, he had even shared some of that attachment. That was something that just wouldn't do considering her profession and heritage. Then, he's fling had come with Ursula. Brilliant and beauty as though she was, Ursula was a mentee and nothing more. The infatuation shared with the woman had been lust driven. It had not been sustainable... and truly, what he had felt for her had seemed so insignificant when compared against the feelings he had for Andromeda.

But Andromeda was his brother's wife.

She was
The Lady Lestrange...

and he was just a lord.

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0