Someone please get her out of my head!
Title: Will You or Won't You?
Genre: Eh...this pairing defies all pre-existing genres. Non-romance, how's that?
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Till
Rating: PG-13, for hints at stuff like ravishing on breakfast tables
Word Count: 896 words
Summary: Rabastan just doesn't understand what she wants. Neither does she.
Author's Notes: Written for my Rab/Ros prompt table: #09 Birthday. Sort of inspired by, but not compliant with this.
Rosalind woke up alone. She stretched languidly and sat up, yawning sleepily. She pulled the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She located her knickers and slipped them on. She walked silently around the room and found Rabastan's shirt. She picked it up and breathed in the smell of him. She loved how Rabastan smelled. She slipped it on and walked outside.
Rabastan sat at the breakfast table, sipping fresh coffee. He wore black pajama bottoms and a robe of the same color. She tiptoed up behind him and grabbed him from the back, giving him a kiss on the cheek and nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Her effort was rewarded with a low chuckle. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," Rosalind said brightly as she released him. She walked around to the other side of the table slowly, stretching as she went.
"Hurry up and stop showing off or I may have to ravish you on the breakfast table. Then what would the house elves think?" Rab threatened, tossing aside his copy of the Daily Prophet.
Rosalind laughed and promptly sat down across from him. She poured herself some orange juice and sipped daintily, watching Rabastan as he read through his mail. Till came bustling in. "Mistress Rosalind," she squeaked, carrying a whole pile of packages and letters in her arms. Rabastan's eyebrow shot up at Mistress Rosalind and at the pile of mail. Rosalind looked over as Till deposited everything on her side of the table.
"Oh," Rosalind said as she realized what they were. "Thank you, Till. And don't call me Mistress," she corrected. "Rosalind's fine."
"Very well, Miss," Till said. She turned to her master. "Will there be anything else,master?"
Rabastan shook his head and she exited. Rosalind began sifting through her letters, discarding several of them.
"Fan mail?" Rabastan asked.
"Birthday letters," Rosalind answered. "Oh, this one's from Nasi," she muttered, tearing it open. "Oh, how darling. He's got himself a girlfriend," she said to no one in particular, because she knew Rabastan wasn't interested. "She's rather pretty," she murmured, setting the letter and photograph aside. She spent the rest of the morning browsing through her mail and opening packages. Rabastan had gotten up to leave between Nikolai's letter and Cedric's. Two hours later, Till returned with a trash bag.
"Thank you," Rosalind said politely as she started throwing discarded envelopes and wrapping into the black bag. "Do you know where your master is?" she asked.
"He's in the library," Till answered. "Will you be needing anything more, Miss?"
Rosalind thought for a moment. "Till, I'm going to see Rabastan. Could you tidy this up for me?"
"My pleasure, Miss," Till said obligingly.
"Thanks," Rosalind said as she got up and headed to the library.
Rabastan wrote surely and slowly. Finally, he signed the letter with his name, tapped the letter with his wand to dry the ink and tapped it again to seal it. He tied the letter to the leg of a waiting owl and sent it off. "Yes?" he said as he tidied his table.
"Nothing," Rosalind said. "I just...you know..."
"What?"
"Well, I didn't expect you to get me anything...or even to remember...but a simple greeting would be nice."
"You really don't think much of me, do you?" Rabastan muttered as he looked up from his writing desk.
"I think quite highly of you, which is why I don't expect you to remember something so trivial."
"Stop lying," Rabastan said, just a hint of anger in his voice. "You didn't think I cared or bothered enough to remember."
"You have a lot on your mind," she insisted.
Rabastan made a sound of disbelief as he picked a box off his writing desk and tossed it at her. "Happy Birthday."
"Thank you," Rosalind said softly as she caught it.
"Well? Open it."
Rosalind flipped the box open and stared at the necklace inside. She shook her head and put it back on his desk. "I can't take it."
Rabastan hissed. "What do you want from me? You asked me to remember your brithday, I give you something and you return it?"
She touched the top of his head. "Thank you for the present," she said. "But I don't need silly baubles from you--"
"--silly? Do you know how many galleons that--"
"Shush--," Rosalind tapped him on the head. "That's a present for a fiancee or a wife," she said. Or a whore, but let's not go there.
"Then what do you want?" Rabastan asked, on guard. If she wanted him to propose, she had another---
"--a dance," she concluded.
He looked up. "Eh?"
"I want you to dance with me," she said.
"Huh?"
Rosalind had to laugh at his confusion. "You see, I have it on good authority that Rabastan Lestrange does not dance with just anyone," she informed him. "That she must be a special lady for him to even bother. Now, I want you to dance with me on my birthday. Will you or won't you?"
"Psh," Rabastan said, getting up. "Till!"
Till hurried inside the library. "Yes, master?"
"Father's music player," he ordered.
"Yes, master."
Rabastan turned to Rosalind, who was giddy enough to pass out. "You better not step on my feet," he ordered as he took her in his arms.
Genre: Eh...this pairing defies all pre-existing genres. Non-romance, how's that?
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Till
Rating: PG-13, for hints at stuff like ravishing on breakfast tables
Word Count: 896 words
Summary: Rabastan just doesn't understand what she wants. Neither does she.
Author's Notes: Written for my Rab/Ros prompt table: #09 Birthday. Sort of inspired by, but not compliant with this.
Rosalind woke up alone. She stretched languidly and sat up, yawning sleepily. She pulled the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She located her knickers and slipped them on. She walked silently around the room and found Rabastan's shirt. She picked it up and breathed in the smell of him. She loved how Rabastan smelled. She slipped it on and walked outside.
Rabastan sat at the breakfast table, sipping fresh coffee. He wore black pajama bottoms and a robe of the same color. She tiptoed up behind him and grabbed him from the back, giving him a kiss on the cheek and nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Her effort was rewarded with a low chuckle. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," Rosalind said brightly as she released him. She walked around to the other side of the table slowly, stretching as she went.
"Hurry up and stop showing off or I may have to ravish you on the breakfast table. Then what would the house elves think?" Rab threatened, tossing aside his copy of the Daily Prophet.
Rosalind laughed and promptly sat down across from him. She poured herself some orange juice and sipped daintily, watching Rabastan as he read through his mail. Till came bustling in. "Mistress Rosalind," she squeaked, carrying a whole pile of packages and letters in her arms. Rabastan's eyebrow shot up at Mistress Rosalind and at the pile of mail. Rosalind looked over as Till deposited everything on her side of the table.
"Oh," Rosalind said as she realized what they were. "Thank you, Till. And don't call me Mistress," she corrected. "Rosalind's fine."
"Very well, Miss," Till said. She turned to her master. "Will there be anything else,master?"
Rabastan shook his head and she exited. Rosalind began sifting through her letters, discarding several of them.
"Fan mail?" Rabastan asked.
"Birthday letters," Rosalind answered. "Oh, this one's from Nasi," she muttered, tearing it open. "Oh, how darling. He's got himself a girlfriend," she said to no one in particular, because she knew Rabastan wasn't interested. "She's rather pretty," she murmured, setting the letter and photograph aside. She spent the rest of the morning browsing through her mail and opening packages. Rabastan had gotten up to leave between Nikolai's letter and Cedric's. Two hours later, Till returned with a trash bag.
"Thank you," Rosalind said politely as she started throwing discarded envelopes and wrapping into the black bag. "Do you know where your master is?" she asked.
"He's in the library," Till answered. "Will you be needing anything more, Miss?"
Rosalind thought for a moment. "Till, I'm going to see Rabastan. Could you tidy this up for me?"
"My pleasure, Miss," Till said obligingly.
"Thanks," Rosalind said as she got up and headed to the library.
Rabastan wrote surely and slowly. Finally, he signed the letter with his name, tapped the letter with his wand to dry the ink and tapped it again to seal it. He tied the letter to the leg of a waiting owl and sent it off. "Yes?" he said as he tidied his table.
"Nothing," Rosalind said. "I just...you know..."
"What?"
"Well, I didn't expect you to get me anything...or even to remember...but a simple greeting would be nice."
"You really don't think much of me, do you?" Rabastan muttered as he looked up from his writing desk.
"I think quite highly of you, which is why I don't expect you to remember something so trivial."
"Stop lying," Rabastan said, just a hint of anger in his voice. "You didn't think I cared or bothered enough to remember."
"You have a lot on your mind," she insisted.
Rabastan made a sound of disbelief as he picked a box off his writing desk and tossed it at her. "Happy Birthday."
"Thank you," Rosalind said softly as she caught it.
"Well? Open it."
Rosalind flipped the box open and stared at the necklace inside. She shook her head and put it back on his desk. "I can't take it."
Rabastan hissed. "What do you want from me? You asked me to remember your brithday, I give you something and you return it?"
She touched the top of his head. "Thank you for the present," she said. "But I don't need silly baubles from you--"
"--silly? Do you know how many galleons that--"
"Shush--," Rosalind tapped him on the head. "That's a present for a fiancee or a wife," she said. Or a whore, but let's not go there.
"Then what do you want?" Rabastan asked, on guard. If she wanted him to propose, she had another---
"--a dance," she concluded.
He looked up. "Eh?"
"I want you to dance with me," she said.
"Huh?"
Rosalind had to laugh at his confusion. "You see, I have it on good authority that Rabastan Lestrange does not dance with just anyone," she informed him. "That she must be a special lady for him to even bother. Now, I want you to dance with me on my birthday. Will you or won't you?"
"Psh," Rabastan said, getting up. "Till!"
Till hurried inside the library. "Yes, master?"
"Father's music player," he ordered.
"Yes, master."
Rabastan turned to Rosalind, who was giddy enough to pass out. "You better not step on my feet," he ordered as he took her in his arms.