June 30, 1976
Another fancy dress dinner party with one of London's most elite. Regulus was less than surprised nor impressed at the prospect of having to done the dress robed with the high itchy collar and the straight sleeves. At least it was an all black attire, something livable for Regulus rather than the smug uniforms at Hogwarts.
The rest of the household, including his cousins, adorned themselves in the most expensive attire, which to them was everyday casual wardrobe, and considerably extravagent for any middle-class family. But this was the well-to-do pure blood families of the upper crest of London; such decadence was expected.
Dinner itself was a long drawn out affair, at least to him. In between tugging at the itchy collar and a preoccupation with stabbing his fork at the shrimp, Regulus found himself extremly bored and anxious to vacate. Unfortuntly for him, such an opportunity didn't come until sometime after midnight, when a disagreement between one of the Lestrange brothers and the Mrs. Lestrange ended with the brother walking out.
It didn't take much more to trigger Dame Black's attack on Sirius (even though he wasn't present), first criticism then flat out insult to add injury. She went into a tirad about his choices and so-called lack of judgement, and it brought more fork stabbings at the chicken by Regulus. Finding himself nearing the point of near anger, Regulus pushed his chair back and declared publically he had to use the loo. Without hesitation, he marched out of the room, down the hallway, and practically kicked the French glass door open to lead to the outside balcony. Somewhere behind the surrounding trees, the sounds of Muggle London came in honks of horns and screechingof tires on wet asphalt, even at three in the morning.
Once out in the fresh air of the night, Regulus leaned over the railing and gave a small sigh. One of relief, to push away the tension and aggravation he was feeling. He had a headache, and his neck was now red from hsi scratching with uneven nails. He patted his robe, and thrusted his hand into his pocket, before pulling out what he had been looking for. Muggle cigerettes. The only thing he would admittably use or take from the lesser class, but not outright. Twice as potent, and twice as flavoured, he enjoyed a good smoke to calm him down. It stopped him from screaming at his mother.
Regulus pulled one out and placed it against his lips, then ducked his head down to light it.
He hated him. Hated every single fiber of what was considered be a Wizard. Taking in every bit of attention, every single second of every bloody day was what his brother always did. Rabastan couldn't stand him and it wasn't as if his bouts of anger were surprising to the rest of his family. That was why, when he left the table after the heated argument, that no one stopped him, and only acted as if nothing happened. Except, of course, he failed to notice Regulus had actually taken in to account that he'd walked off.
Rabastan ignored the fact that, out of the arguing, he hadn't eaten much, and by that point, he was most hungry. Once stepping outside, Rabastan started to repeatedly punch the side of the house with his right fist. Why exactly? Several reasons ran through his mind.
Partially to let out the hatred he held for his brother and his parents. Other in part for the fact that he hated himself for forgetting his razor blade at home, and this was the only form of self mutilation he could do at that point in time. After he finished, he looked at his bleeding fingers and knuckles, letting out a heavy sigh.
Returning his hand to his side, he simply enjoyed the time by himself as he usually did, and let the air of the night dry the blood and eventually stop the bleeding. This time that he did so, although, with how badly he'd hurt his hand, didn't work out so well. Rabastan could feel the comforting stream of cool blood drip off his fingers. He didn't care. He just. Didn't. Care. Instead, he focused on the feeling of his own blood, and.. calmed back down.
It wasn't long before Rabastan's attention turned towards the Black boy, as he left the home, appearing a bit angry himself. He raised his eyebrows seeing this, wondering what exactly could make him mad. Out of what Rabastan knew of Regulus, he never seemed the type to lose his temper, but to blow it off with some idiotic remark. Then again, Rabastan considered everyone else but himself, an idiot. He watched him as he searched for something, find it, and light it.
Ahhh, cigarettes. The one single Muggle-made thing that Rabastan enjoyed to use. And it'd been quite the while since he'd had one last. Watching Regulus's reaction to taking in the cigarette smoke, Rabastan knew he could do with one as well. Not that he would ask for one, however. Rabastan only smoked if offereda cigarette, otherwise claiming that he didn't have a habit.
Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, and slowly took in a drag on his fag. He watched the darkened lawn, his eyes moving across the grass to the area where complete blackness fell against the bushes and fence. A small movement off to the side caught his attention, and he glanced over in time to see a garden gnome scurry off into the undergrowth.
Resisting the urge to daydream back a few years when he and Sirius had played together out on the same lawn, he turned his back to the rail and stared at the lit house; its windows ablaze in light. He frowned hard, and when the sound of laughter drifted out, he felt a cold wind run down his neck and back. They are all laughing at me... He grew angry again, the frustration of just teh thought lingered in his mind, and he crumpled the still lit cingerette in his hand, and turned, throwing the remains at the house.
He then let out a sharp cry and clenchedhis other hand around his fist. The smoldering ashes and the heat of the fag had burned his hand, and he let out a low hiss as he mentally dealt with the pain. He brought his hand up to his mouth, hoping by blowing on it would help. It only made it worse.
Even from where he was standing, Rabastan could tell that Regulus was deep in thought. What about, Rabastan did wonder, but he didn't care. Then, seeing Regulus close his hand over the cigarette, Rabastan thought him either a moron, or to have very tough hands.
Part of his assumption was proved correct by then at watching Regulus react in pain. He couldn't help but laugh a little, seeing his pain increased by his attempts to end it.
Regulus kept his hurt hand pressed against him, and yanked out another fag fiercly from the pack, casuing the tight package to fall to the ground. He didn't seem to care as he shoved the flimsy cigerette between his now grit teeth and clicked on the lighter. He left the plastic item on the railing and turned, facing the general direction where, unknown to Regulus, Rabastan Lestrange was hidden in the shadows. Regulus, closing his eyes for a moment, inhaled and slowly breathed in the calming nicotine. He then quickly shook his injured hand out, finding that it no longer hurt. He shook it again for good measure, enjoying the feeling of cool air breeze against his calloused palm.
Rabastan was surprised that Regulus still hadn't noticed he was there. Finding that moment better than any, he spoke up, stepping towards him.
"Had I wanted to, I could have attacked you and done so quite well, Black," he said most calmly. "You better make sure you know who's watching you before you let your guard down." Rabastan breathed in the excess smoke without knowing it at first, and knew that little bit was good enough at that moment. "I just might take the chance given to me, should it happen again," Rabastan added with a grin, unsure himself, if he was serious or not.
Regulus glanced right at him as he walked up, the fag dangling from his lips, almost abandoned. His gaze immediatly met his, even if he was a few inches shorter. The line about attacking him made Regulus almost arch an eyebrow, but he gave h im a vacant yet focused stare as he spoke. It wasn't until he figured Rabastan was clearly finished talking that he moved the ciggerette away from his lips and flicked the ashes to the side, again, his gaze still on Lestrange.
"Okay...you do that then." He said calmly. "Smoke?" He then pointed down to the package on the ground with arched eyebrows.
"I'll make sure I do, sometime or another," Rabastan answered, bending over and picking up the packet of cigarettes, and took from it, the last cigarette. With the packet between his right index finger and middle finger, he tossed it back onto the ground. Then, placing the cigarette between his lips, he looked to Regulus with a raised brow, as if expecting Regulus to automatically light it for him.
With a narrowed glance, Regulus reached over and grabbed the plastic lighter. He then brought it up in front of Rabastan and flicked his thumb over the dial, causing the fire to appear.
"Sure," he replied, this time a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He then allowed the end of Rabastan's fag to ignite.
He breathed in, making sure the cigarette lit properly, and after moving it from his mouth, he exhaled. Rabastan felt good for once, and assumed that all he needed was a smoke and to bleed a little now and then. Yes.. to get rid of that constant depression and anger Rabastan had, he just needed to hurt someone, or something, and take in some nicotine.
Rabastan started to walk away, making it look as if he was leaving him alone, but after a few steps, he stopped and looked up at the sky, breathing out the smoke and watching it dissapate into the dark sky. Flicking the cigarette with his right thumb, he smirked.
"Bloody wonderful dinner, as usual," he commented to no one in particular.
Regulus snorted as he side glanced at Rabastan. "Are you kidding me?! The food was bland and tasteless, the drinks were warm, and I swear I found a house-elf hair in my salad." He said quickly as he puffedon his fag. "Be glad you didn't each much. You weren't missing anything." He then turned slightly and flicked atthe end, sending ashes flying. he then became pre-occupied with rubbing a large clump of ashes into the stone floor witht he toe of his dress shoe that pinched at the heels.
Amused by Regulus's statement about dinner, Rabastan scoffed, chuckling some at the same time. "Good Salazar, aren't you used to the pampered life of a rich Pureblood."
He rolled his eyes, taking in another drag of the cigarette.
"I'm so bloody hungry right now, I don't think I would care how horrible it is. Besides.." He blew out the smoke in Regulus's direction. "I was being sarcastic, Black."
He turned his head fully towards Rabastan and mad ea grate wide closed-mouth grin, his most sarcastic grin possible. I..knew that..really!
"The mashed potatos were halfway decent, honestly." He continues, as if he was ignoring Rabastan's last comment. He then made a final puffon his cigerette before tossing it down, stamping on it a good long minute so he knew it was in fact out. There was nothing more than a ashy mark on the imported stones, and turned to look at the house, his hands in his robe pockets again. The lights in the dining room seemed to still be bright, which meant the inhabitants were still there.
"The kitchen's bound to be empty," he says, almost under his breath as his gaze searched the doors and windows of the back of the house. "Maybe we can get you some..baby carrots or brussel sprouts. Or chicken." He then glanced back to Rabastan after a long moment, his eyebrow quirking up slightly.
Rabastan shrugged and crouched down, putting his cigarette out on the ground. Once making sure it was out, he put it into his pocket and stood back up, planning on finishing it off later.
"I don't care," he said, folding his arms across his chest and giving a bored look to Regulus.
Regulus shrugged. It didn't make a whole helluvalot of difference to him right then, as he was thinking ahead to nicking something chocolate. He glanced to the house and back at Rabastan.
"Well, I'm going to the Kitchen." He announced, his pointinghis thumb overhis shoulder towards the house.
"Come with or stay," he added. He seemed to careless either way outwardly.
Instantly, Rabastan wanted to say that he wanted to stay. It was his common reply, that he rather have the company of himself than with another. Also, he didn't exactly like the fact that Regulus was helping him (or offered, in that matter). Rabastan was never helped, unless he ordered someone to do something for him.
However, his stomach really was starting to hurt, and like he'd said before, any bit of food would do. He said nothing in reply and just started walking back to the house. Not like he'd been there enough times to know his way around, but he was willing on finding the kitchen on his own, not really giving a fuck if he ran into his brother or any one of his parents on the way.
Rabastan had walked off so fast and so intent that Regulus had to job a few paces to catch up. And it didn't help that both of them went for the door handle at the sametime.
"Uh...after you," Regulus offered, yanking the door open.
He rolled his eyes and walked back into the house without so much as a thank you. Though, since when did Rabastan even conceive the thought of being polite?
Rabastan stopped once well inside, and this time waited for Regulus to lead the way.
Regulus casually strolled into the back room, where the voices and laughter of the dining room were clearly heard. Regulus seemed to make a glare at the door to the left, which obviously led to the occupied room. He seemed to stare at it for a moment and then moved away from it, practically rolling his eyes.
"Asses," he mumbled as he walked directly past Rabastan. He didn't stop moving, but glanced at him for a quick moment before shoving open another door, leading into the back of the kitchen. A large oak table laid sprawled out, and the room was darkened with the exception of a few never-melting-candles here and there. There was a sound of scurrying, and Regulus went right for the cold storage on the side of the room, leaving Rabastan to his own devices for a moment.
He yanked out a tray and kicked the door closed with his foot. He put the tray on the table and then glanced around.
"There's the chicken...got bread here somewhere." He started opening cabinets. Damn Kretcher moved everything again.
Following, Rabastan took in all that Regulus did, having nothing else to look at. He smirked at Regulus's comment, and once walking into the kitchen, Rabastan leaned against a wall until Regulus had brought out the chicken. He walked to the table and took a bit of chicken with his fingers, popping it into his mouth. Already, his stomach started to feel a little bit better. Wiping his fingers on his pant leg, he looked at Regulus.
"Somewhere?" he repeated. "You don't know where you keep your own food?"
That made Regulus stop in his search of a cabinet and he found himself glaring at cans of soup. He slowly turned around to look at Rabastan, ignoring the fact he was eating with his fingers.
"Bloody fucking house elf named Kretcher. Hates it when I come in here, and likes to give me a hard time...just like everyone else." He said bitterly, and he leaned his lower back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at the tray on the table, his jaw setting and re-setting.
He grinned now, at Regulus's reaction. Anger was one of the emotions that Rabastan loved to watch, especially if he was the one to cause it. Of course, Rabastan didn't know before hand that the simple question would have Regulus react in the way that he did. None the less, Rabastan found himself quite amused.
"Then why don't you kill him?" he asked most simply, looking at the younger boy. "Or anyone else that causes you pain?"
Regulus actually seemed to contemplate this for a minute. He then shrugged. "Thought about it, just too lazy to do it." He said as he moved to the table. He peeled back the aluminum foil covering the tray and grabbed a handfull of the chicken, and tossed his head back to pop the pieces into his mouth. He chewed, close-mouthed, and wiggled his eyebrows at Rabastan with a grin as if it was some inside joke.
Rolling his eyes at Regulus's behavior, he again picked at the chicken as he did before and after swallowing his second bit of chicken, he looked at Regulus. "Am I to find the bread on my own, or are you going to decide to bring that out as well?" He asked in a most unamused tone. "And what about drinks? Come now, be a good host."
Regulus arched his eyebrows up at that, and took a step back from the table. He lifted his hands up, palms out, mimicking of an unarmed hostage. He then turned and opened the cabinet nearest him, lucking out on finding a loaf of fresh bread. He grabbed it quickly, now wanting to work with haste. He quickly grabbed a knife and started to cut the bread. He felt Rabastan's eyes burn holes into his back, and a thin layer of sweat formed on the back of his neck. The collar was itching again, and she tried to ignore it, moving to cut faster.
A small short cry, the sound of metal hitting stone, and the bright red turning dark as it seeped into polished wood.
Regulus leaned against the counter, holding his hand with his other, a deep cut refusing to blot along his palm, the same one he had burnt not very long ago.
Rabastan watched Regulus with a lowered brow that he soon rose as he witnessed him accidentally cut himself. He could feel himself suddenly stop breathing and not being able to do anything else but keep a fixed stare at his wound.
This brought back memories of seeing and convincing that idiot Wilkes to go as far as attempt suicide, but then stopped him so that he could have him do it over and over again. But... he never got the chance. Fucking Wilkes was a Seventh Year. None the less, this little moment...
Coming back to reality, Rabastan acted again as if he was bored and walked over to Rabastan and picked up a slice of bread he'd cut off. Rabastan took a bite of the bread and looked at Regulus, saying nothing.
Regulus stared at his own hand, his lips parted, although he held his breath. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as the sting of pain started, and he pressed his thumb and finger together, pinching the skin to stop the bleeding. After a moment of that, he brought his palm up to his mouth and pressed the wound to his lips, applying pressure that way. He even ended up tasting and swallowing a bit of his own blood. He had such a casualness about it that it was almost as if this happened on a reguluar bases. He seemed to know exactly how to handle it, and was no where close to crying. He seemed extremly focused on it, too.
Bringing the bread to his mouth to take another bite, Rabastan ate slowly glancing over at Regulus now and then. What Regulus did was new to Rabastan, as he was used to the overreaction of a simple cut. How Regulus handled it was almost.. naturally. This intrigued Rabastan but he did nothing to show it.
Instead, Rabastan finished eating the slice of bread and picked up a cup that was sitting nearby and filled it with water, not caring to drink anything else, as his throat was most dry from the food. As he held onto the cup, Rabastan felt the tinge of pain coming from the damage he'd done to his hand earlier. Looking at the blood that started to flake off and the early form of scabbing, Rabastan asked most casually, "Have you got a cloth or something, Black?"
Still seemingly suckling on his hand, even though the blood had long stopped and clotted, Regulus reached over in front of Rabastan, grabbing a cloth that had been mostly hidden behind a silver polished tea pot. He held out to Rabastan as he finally moved his hand away from his mouth. He whiped the saliva off on the side of his robe and waited patiently for rabastan to take it from him. There was a small red stain on his bottom lip, easily able to be rubbed off with a quick use of the towel, if Regulus were so inclined.
He flicked a glance at the blood that remained on Regulus's lip, before somewhat roughly taking the cloth that was offered to him. Rabastan returned to the table and set down the cup and wet part of the cloth with water. Then, he started to clean off his hand and fingers, not caring that when he did so, he broke apart the weak scabs that had formed on the deep scratches in his skin.
Rabastan held his hand up to watch the blood once again flow down and drip off his right ring finger and onto the cloth he held in his left hand. He looked at it with a certain interest, not something that he commonly did with another present, but he couldn't resist. Again, he wiped up the blood and held the cloth on the top of his right hand to prevent it from bleeding anymore. Afterwards, he looked up at Regulus, part of his dark hair falling over his brow as he did so.
Regulus didn't notice Rabastan looking at him right away. Still standing where he was, he had his head bent a little low, his chin tucked under as he watched Rabastan's hands with a quiet interest. He seemed to of been staring the whole time and when he felt Rabastan's stare he looked up quickly, his lips parting slightly in a questioning look. He swallowed hard and raised his eyebrows.
"Accident?" He asked, in a sincere tone. He stared at Rabastan, his gaze seeming to land on his forehead and hair rather than direct eye contact. Regulus had a bad habit of doing that. His gaze then shifted to Rabastan's nose.
"Something like that," he answered with a smirk and lifted up the cloth to see if the bleeding had stopped. Discovering that it hadn't, he returned the cloth to it's place on his hand.
Regulus's attention was on Rabastan's hand again, and seeing the brief uncovering of his bleeding flesh made Regulus open his eyes wide. With an almost dazed fascination, Regulus stepped up to the table and his hand shot out, trying to lift the corner of the cloth.
Instantly furrowing his brow he suddenly asked, "What are you doing?" Then, at looking at the expression Regulus had, Rabastan smirked. "What, wanted to see this?" He then removed the cloth and held out his hand, inspecting it himself.
Regulus had just dropped his hand to the table top after Rabastan's reaction. He was about to verbally defend himself ("I just wanted to see!") when Rabastan revealed his hand again.
Regulus found himself staring at the older boy's hand, the blood slowly driping out from bruised cuts, the blood pooling on the edge of his palm, and the blood dripping down into little puddles on the table. Regulus poked his pinky finger at Rabastan's hand, and as he pulled his finger back, the fleshy tip was covered in Rabastan's blood. Regulus held this finger up to in front of his nose and stared at it; again, with a look on concentration.
Rabastan's eyes were focused on Regulus's expression, seeing how much in awe he was. He tensed feeling the bit of pressure that his pinky finger caused and did nothing else but shake his head.
"It's just a bit of blood, Black. You don't need to act as if you've never seen it before," he roughly commented and proceeded to wrap his hand up with the cloth that time, not making any action to clean the rest of it up.
Regulus snorted and made a big show of wiping his hand on his robe front. "I have seen blood before, okay," he replied sarcastically. He even gave Rabastan a darker Look right afterwards.
Looking to him for a quick moment, as Rabastan tucked the end of the cloth underneath another part of it to keep it wrapped around his hand, Rabastan caught the look Regulus was giving him. He furrowed his brow, being caught off guard by Regulus's action. Rabastan slowly grinned and leaned back against the table. "I never said you didn't..."
"I have lots of times!" Regulus said defensivly, completly interrupting Rabastan as he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.
He shrugged. "Fine. I don't give a fuck how many times you've seen blood, whether it be zero or one hundred. It's bloody common sense. One does bleed after all.."
"And I like watching it, OKAY!?" He replied, once again cutting Rabastan off. Regulus had puffed out his cheeks this time, a nasty expression complete with a twitching pout. He was starting to raise his voice a little, as if a few steps away from screaming. He was acting like Rabastan was twisting his arm to get him to admit what he just said.
Rabastan stood upright, not that it would matter any, being that Regulus was the taller male. He smiled, not saying anything for a moment as he waited for a reaction from anyone else who could have possibly heard Regulus. When the silence stretched on, Rabastan continued to smile.
Ah anger. Rabastan could almost feel it and he loved it. When he parted his lips to speak a reply, a chuckle left them without knowing. "Right, okay," he nodded, and chuckled again.