Rabbit: February 1970
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: February 1970: Fire (36/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3175
Workshop?: Nah! NOTE: This was co-written by mildlyironic, originally for me_pensieve, with considerable updating and revision.
February 3, 1970
Fire
The house at Tor Delorage seemed to be built for dreadful winter storms like today's. It would have been out of place in any other weather, without shocks of lightning and wailing winds and the icy spit of the sky. Across the moors, farmers huddled inside, and commuting workers drove slowly home. But away from the villages, the dark stone building loomed. And inside, in a dark room of antique tapestries and rugs, two dark-haired boys stared into a crackling fire. One, whose deep-black hair and cool grey eyes looked almost haunting in the fire's gleam, was throwing small exploding objects into the flames, while the other, of a warmer coloring, concentrated intently on wrapping up the explosive pellets in preparation for their fiery doom. Anyone who knew anything about anyone could tell you immediately that those boys were the eldest Black son, Sirius, and the younger Lestrange son, Rabastan.
"I hate storms."
Rabastan raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"I'm not afraid of them. I hate it when storms keep us inside.”
"Hm." Five new pellets fell into Sirius’ lap.
Without warning, Sirius tossed all five in at once, and they popped chaotically. "Let's explore!"
"Sirius, you've been coming here for years. I dare say we've explored all there is to explore."
Now it was Sirius' time to challenge. "Liar. I know Grimmauld like the back of my hand, but I still find new things in it sometimes."
"That's because Grimmauld's full of things, and your parents buy new things. Our manor's full of rooms, and I doubt my parents have built new corridors recently."
"If I built a house, I'd put some places you could only find by being clever enough. We're older than we've ever been. So we're cleverer than we've ever been. So maybe we'll find something new." Sirius side-eyed his friend. "Unless you're scared."
Rabastan stood up. "I'm not scared of my own house. Come on, then." He knew that while they were beyond proper exploring, it sounded much more glamorous than ‘walking down hallways and talking about dark creatures.’
Sirius pushed himself up, and the Elf that had been lurking in the room with them stepped forward. “Is young Master needing anything?”
The boys exchanged a glance. “We’re going to play Hide-and-Seek, and you will play with us,” said Sirius. “Rabastan is ‘it’ first.” This was an old standard, an easy way to send an Elf off to sit in a cupboard without getting in trouble for it. The first few times it had been tried, the request had been met with humble protests, until Rabastan had snapped and told the Elf to go crush his feet under a wardrobe for being so disobedient.
Rabastan closed his eyes and let the Elf surround him in a thick black cloud. He heard the shuffle of Sirius’ feet, the loud crack of Tiggly removing herself, and the shuffling of Sirius returning to the room. After twenty seconds had lapsed, the black cloud faded to grey mist and disappeared. Rabastan turned round to see -- Sirius staring intently into his face.
“Augh!” Rabastan shouted, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. Sirius laughed into his muffling sleeve and turned red with laughter. “Don’t,” Rabastan emphasized with a light punch, “do that.”
They decided to work their way from the basements to the attics, and made their way accordingly. These halls had high, narrow windows, with just enough exposure to hear the tak tak tak of the storm outside. Rabastan was in the middle of recounting new knowledge of Dark Creatures that he had learned from his brother when he heard a distinct click and sensed the familiar feeling of magic at work.
He and Sirius stood mouths agape as part of the stone wall revealed itself to be a wooden door trimmed with ironwork of dragons and sinister eyes. Rabastan had been clearly told several times to never enter rooms he had not been shown. But he figured that meant boring offices, not magical dragon doorways.
"Rabbit," Sirius breathed. "You've got a secret passage in your manor - that is brilliant!" He took a few steps closer, reverent, but cautious, as if afraid it would close up on him. "How'd you do that?"
"I -- I don't know. But things are kept secret for reasons. Maybe we can ask about it. But for now... we ought to leave it.” Sometimes adults kept secrets unfairly, but sometimes there was real danger, or matters best kept on a need-to-know basis. Rabastan tried to sound casual, but his nervousness gave his words a hardened, authoritative edge. All the more when he reached out and tugged his friend’s arm.
"We might never see it again!" Sirius yanked his arm back and stepped closer.
"This is my house, and I say we don't go, so we don't go. Leave it!" Rabastan took the arm with more force this time and attempted to lead his friend away.
"Oh please!" Sirius pulled his arm even harder and refused to budge. "You can't even boss me around. You're not the master of the house, or heir, even. And it's not like I ever stop you from doing anything when you're over, even though I could, and things're loads more dangerous."
Rabastan's eyes narrowed. "Don't try that," he said through gritted teeth. He dropped his grip but stepped in front of Sirius. "Master or not, I know this place better than you, and well enough to know not to go snooping in secret places. And you very well know that if it weren't for me, you'd be long gone and no master of any house, and Regulus'd be heir to the Nouveau and Most Affected House of Black."
"Don't you go insulting my family just because you're a scared little toddler! If I didn't know better, I'd say Lestranges only bred softies."
Rabastan clutched his hands into fists. "Don't insult mine because you never learned not to stick your head where it doesn't belong. 'Scuse me for trying to not lose my best friend to Morgana-knows-what. I forgot that the Blacks breed madmen!"
Sirius’ temper flared, but he fought back blows or cutting words. Instead, the door flew open with a rusty whine. Before the boys could speak, their nostrils were ravaged by a rotten, sickening smell. Sirius covered his nose with his sleeve, and said through the fabric, "Merlin, what is that? It smells like rotting Muggle bits!"
Rabastan scrunched his nose and shrinked from the door. "Blast it, Sirius, what did I say? Get away!" He shoved Sirius toward the wall opposite the door, and ducked his head as his angry energy sent a torch flying to the ground with a crash. The fire caught alight from the fumes and gained an intimidating height. "Look what you've done, Black!" Rabastan stared back with widened eyes reflecting the rising fire.
"That wasn't me! D'you want to kill us?"
It smelled absolutely putrid now, mixed with the scent of the fire, and they both knew that nothing would keep them immune from trouble if they were caught. Sirius looked between the fire and Rabastan, and chose self-preservation. He started jogging down the hallway, dragging his friend along.
"Damn it, Rabbit, let's get out of here."
Rabastan ran behind, relieved that Sirius had finally seen reason, and terrified of the prospect of anything emerging from the passageway.
After rounding a corner, Rabastan halted. "Elf?" he whispered into the air, to Tiggly appearing before them with little delay. The boy furrowed his brow and blinked slowly and frequently, and let his lower lip tremble. "The--there's f-fire and the d-door and p-passage a-and make it g-go away.”
As soon as Tiggly popped away, the act fell and the actor wheeled on Sirius. "Sorry, but without the fire, you would've been in there and who knows what would've eaten you or peeled off your skin or-- or--" He looked on his friend wildly. "Not everything is a game! What would I say to your parents? What would I say to my parents? What would I say to the Aurors?" He swung his arm upside Sirius’ head in emphasis.
"Hey!" Sirius rubbed the back of his head, though Rabastan had inflicted no real pain. "Just because we're at your home, you've gotten all high and mighty on me, setting fire to things just for the bollocks of it. It could've been perfectly safe and now we won't know, now will we?"
The words smacked of entitlement more than anger. It was rare for someone to stop Sirius from doing something he wanted to - Rabastan was one of few, and he never did so in that manner. Sirius’ smug arrogance in his own luck or brilliance or good fortune showed itself quite clearly in the way he glared at Rabastan - as if he was immortal, unafraid of mortal toils. Well, Rabastan was finished with smug arrogance.
"I'm not high and mighty! I'm just not so foolishly reckless!" Rabastan glared, and dropped his voice to a cool tone. "You better keep me around, Sirius, or you're going to get yourself killed before you've left school. Started school, even."
"If you need to keep me from dying, I need to keep you from living like a bore. You'd miss out on so many brilliant things without me."
"You’re such a child!" Rabastan realized they were children, but he had heard all sorts of stories about Hogwarts, and it was clearly a Very Dangerous Place not fit for recklessness of the kind that Sirius refused to abandon. He didn't expect Sirius to abandon it even for Hogwarts-- after all, that's one of the reasons why they worked so well as friends-- but it was exhausting. And, at times, terrifying. “When are you going to grow up?”
"Grow up? You're a fine one to start talking to me about growing up! I'm far more grown up than you are in some ways, and you're only just over a month older than me so you'd better not try to use that!"
"Well you aren't acting very grown up, are you? You saw that door and thought like a little kid, just another place to play! Not, why is this door hidden and we've not been told? You think you'd've learned caution at some point. Fine Slytherin you'll make, jumping into dubious hidden passages with no planning or forethought!"
Sirius scowled at his friend darkly, his nose scrunched up and his arms folded resolutely before him in a pose of stubbornness, although the effect was rather lost because his nose now made his expression look more bunny-like than frighteningly proud. "I don't plan because I'm better than that," he lied smoothly, "not because I don't think of it."
Rabastan sneered back at Sirius's posturing. "Dragon snot! You don't plan because I'm always there to pull you out of your messes before they get too messy!"
"And I guess you're the expert on cleaning up other peoples' messes, then, aren't you? Do you like going around being everyone else's surrogate mum, then? Or are you just a scared pansy?"
Rabastan had been pushed too far. Sirius had incited him to start a fire in his own house, and even though they were now far from the hidden door, the other boy had not let up.
His hands were balled into fists and he bit his lip to try to not lose control, but it was lost. Rabastan leaned in to Sirius and spat the words, quietly but with more anger than he had gathered yet. "I only have to clean up messes for you, but I'm starting to think it's not worth it. If it's such a bore to be my friend, don't bother!"
The boy spun on his heel and ran as fast as he could through the halls-- he knew the way, and it was easy to disappear in a flash. He left his friend in the cold hallway, standing in place, still and pale, feet like lead. It wasn't until Rabastan's hurried footsteps died away that Sirius began to move, first glaring, then pacing, then scuffing his feet along the floor, his eyes focused on the texture below him.
Upstairs, Rabastan threw himself onto his bed. He didn't need a friend that was going to be so mean, ungrateful, reckless... After several minutes he finally grabbed the book on his nightstand and tried to read, but he was too angry. As he flipped through the pages, the anger turned into questions.
What if Sirius left? What if he had Flooed home without a goodbye? What if he was lost? Or had put his head into something and-- Rabastan swallowed hard. No, he couldn’t think that. But if they weren't friends anymore, who else would be Rabastan's best friend? Not Regulus-- he was all right sometimes but a little kid, after all, and Sirius' brother. Not Darren-- he was only good in small doses. He hated to admit it, but life without Sirius would be dull, and he knew Sirius better than almost anyone. But it didn't matter, because Sirius was gone.
A knock on his door and a jiggling of the lock begged to differ. The anger returned, and Rabastan considered ignoring the door. But then-- he had missed Sirius, hadn't he? And his friend had come back to him.
The boy placed his book back in its place, pulled himself up and went to the door. He unlocked and opened it and looked slightly up into the face of his friend. He was relieved, but didn’t let it show. "What do you want?"
It was a good question. Sirius’s first thought when Rabastan left him had been to Floo home and bid good riddance to it all - to Rabastan’s nagging, to Tor DeLorange, to sleepovers and pranks on Darren and wandering basement hallways. He turned a corner forcefully, kicking his foot at a non-existent rock or elf in the way, and realized that his footsteps sounded very alone in the hallway he had never seen before.
But he had been too harsh. Rabastan had always looked out for him - gotten him out of sticky spots with his mother, pulled him away from exploding and snapping Dark objects. And, he’d realized glumly, he missed Rabastan. He missed having his friend there beside him, who was honest and who was trustworthy and who stuck with him even when Sirius got them into boatloads upon boatloads of trouble. Who would he be without Rabastan around?
That thought had sent Sirius bolting like a Quidditch player bursting onto the pitch. But the manor had set him stumbling upon many, many rooms and halls that began to blur together. When he finally found the familiar door, he was sweaty and clammy and had thought of so many ways in which this could go wrong. Perhaps Rabastan already had another friend over, and had forgotten him, or perhaps -
Whatever it was, Sirius did not expect seeing Rabastan's gaze poke out from behind a mostly-closed door. What he wanted was to stand before his friend, not attempt a reconciliation through a door. "I - um," he began. "Can I - erm - come in? You know, to talk?"
Rabastan, despite all his pretense of maturity, rolled his eyes. "I guess," he accepted, opening the door wide and nodding to a couple of soft navy blue chairs, but crossing his arms.
He sunk into one chair and looked over at Sirius doubtfully. He really wanted his friend back, but he had been also been called all sorts of things just for being sensible-- so it wasn't going to be easy necessarily. Rabastan fought the urge to grin and shake hands. "So you've decided I'm not too high and mighty for you anymore, or what?"
Now that Sirius was in the room, he didn't quite know what to say. He looked down at his feet, watching the soles of his shoes just brushing the floor. "Um, about that." His ears were burning red now, set smoldering by the chastisement of Rabastan's stoically distant expression. "I was...I was out of line, to say that. I shouldn't've called you high and mighty, and I shouldn't've called you a pansy, either."
He then peeked up at Rabastan through his bangs to see how Rabastan took it. His feet still swayed against the floor: swish, swish, swish.
"No, you shouldn't've."
Rabastan sighed and unfolded his arms. "But I shouldn't've said what I did about the Blacks either. You know I think highly of your family. Anyway. If you're sorry," he offered, "I guess I can forgive you." Rabastan smiled, as if sharing a secret, and half-stood, holding out his hand to shake.
Sirius's face lit up like a child's after his first successful sign of magic, and he reached out to shake Rabastan's hand. Halfway there, though, he instead hurled himself at the other boy, laughing, and they fell back into the oversized chair. "I'm glad - I don't know what I would've done if you didn't."
"Neither do I, really. After you, I don't think anyone else'd do as a best friend. Avery? Cissy? I'd rather die."
Sirius's grin widened at Rabastan's words. "You little berk! You had me absolutely petrified that you would've just upped and left me!"
Rabastan scooted away and bit his lip. "So are we back to normal? Because I've got a new chess set and I thought maybe you could spend the night and we could play after supper."
Sirius extricated himself from Rabastan's chair, where they were both all tangled up, still gleeful. "Of course we're back to normal, if you say so - I'll leave a message at home with Floo, and I'm sure my parents won't mind. We can break your new chess pieces in brilliantly tonight."
Rabastan stood up, and breathed comfortably again. Sirius, too, seemed to be at ease once more. Things were back as they should be, and the fight was over, whatever it had really been about. He pushed aside thoughts of dungeons and families and recklessness and cowardice, and grinned. “Smashing! Best of friends, as ever.”
Chapter Number/Title: February 1970: Fire (36/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3175
Workshop?: Nah! NOTE: This was co-written by mildlyironic, originally for me_pensieve, with considerable updating and revision.
February 3, 1970
Fire
The house at Tor Delorage seemed to be built for dreadful winter storms like today's. It would have been out of place in any other weather, without shocks of lightning and wailing winds and the icy spit of the sky. Across the moors, farmers huddled inside, and commuting workers drove slowly home. But away from the villages, the dark stone building loomed. And inside, in a dark room of antique tapestries and rugs, two dark-haired boys stared into a crackling fire. One, whose deep-black hair and cool grey eyes looked almost haunting in the fire's gleam, was throwing small exploding objects into the flames, while the other, of a warmer coloring, concentrated intently on wrapping up the explosive pellets in preparation for their fiery doom. Anyone who knew anything about anyone could tell you immediately that those boys were the eldest Black son, Sirius, and the younger Lestrange son, Rabastan.
"I hate storms."
Rabastan raised an eyebrow in challenge.
"I'm not afraid of them. I hate it when storms keep us inside.”
"Hm." Five new pellets fell into Sirius’ lap.
Without warning, Sirius tossed all five in at once, and they popped chaotically. "Let's explore!"
"Sirius, you've been coming here for years. I dare say we've explored all there is to explore."
Now it was Sirius' time to challenge. "Liar. I know Grimmauld like the back of my hand, but I still find new things in it sometimes."
"That's because Grimmauld's full of things, and your parents buy new things. Our manor's full of rooms, and I doubt my parents have built new corridors recently."
"If I built a house, I'd put some places you could only find by being clever enough. We're older than we've ever been. So we're cleverer than we've ever been. So maybe we'll find something new." Sirius side-eyed his friend. "Unless you're scared."
Rabastan stood up. "I'm not scared of my own house. Come on, then." He knew that while they were beyond proper exploring, it sounded much more glamorous than ‘walking down hallways and talking about dark creatures.’
Sirius pushed himself up, and the Elf that had been lurking in the room with them stepped forward. “Is young Master needing anything?”
The boys exchanged a glance. “We’re going to play Hide-and-Seek, and you will play with us,” said Sirius. “Rabastan is ‘it’ first.” This was an old standard, an easy way to send an Elf off to sit in a cupboard without getting in trouble for it. The first few times it had been tried, the request had been met with humble protests, until Rabastan had snapped and told the Elf to go crush his feet under a wardrobe for being so disobedient.
Rabastan closed his eyes and let the Elf surround him in a thick black cloud. He heard the shuffle of Sirius’ feet, the loud crack of Tiggly removing herself, and the shuffling of Sirius returning to the room. After twenty seconds had lapsed, the black cloud faded to grey mist and disappeared. Rabastan turned round to see -- Sirius staring intently into his face.
“Augh!” Rabastan shouted, and then dropped his voice to a whisper. Sirius laughed into his muffling sleeve and turned red with laughter. “Don’t,” Rabastan emphasized with a light punch, “do that.”
They decided to work their way from the basements to the attics, and made their way accordingly. These halls had high, narrow windows, with just enough exposure to hear the tak tak tak of the storm outside. Rabastan was in the middle of recounting new knowledge of Dark Creatures that he had learned from his brother when he heard a distinct click and sensed the familiar feeling of magic at work.
He and Sirius stood mouths agape as part of the stone wall revealed itself to be a wooden door trimmed with ironwork of dragons and sinister eyes. Rabastan had been clearly told several times to never enter rooms he had not been shown. But he figured that meant boring offices, not magical dragon doorways.
"Rabbit," Sirius breathed. "You've got a secret passage in your manor - that is brilliant!" He took a few steps closer, reverent, but cautious, as if afraid it would close up on him. "How'd you do that?"
"I -- I don't know. But things are kept secret for reasons. Maybe we can ask about it. But for now... we ought to leave it.” Sometimes adults kept secrets unfairly, but sometimes there was real danger, or matters best kept on a need-to-know basis. Rabastan tried to sound casual, but his nervousness gave his words a hardened, authoritative edge. All the more when he reached out and tugged his friend’s arm.
"We might never see it again!" Sirius yanked his arm back and stepped closer.
"This is my house, and I say we don't go, so we don't go. Leave it!" Rabastan took the arm with more force this time and attempted to lead his friend away.
"Oh please!" Sirius pulled his arm even harder and refused to budge. "You can't even boss me around. You're not the master of the house, or heir, even. And it's not like I ever stop you from doing anything when you're over, even though I could, and things're loads more dangerous."
Rabastan's eyes narrowed. "Don't try that," he said through gritted teeth. He dropped his grip but stepped in front of Sirius. "Master or not, I know this place better than you, and well enough to know not to go snooping in secret places. And you very well know that if it weren't for me, you'd be long gone and no master of any house, and Regulus'd be heir to the Nouveau and Most Affected House of Black."
"Don't you go insulting my family just because you're a scared little toddler! If I didn't know better, I'd say Lestranges only bred softies."
Rabastan clutched his hands into fists. "Don't insult mine because you never learned not to stick your head where it doesn't belong. 'Scuse me for trying to not lose my best friend to Morgana-knows-what. I forgot that the Blacks breed madmen!"
Sirius’ temper flared, but he fought back blows or cutting words. Instead, the door flew open with a rusty whine. Before the boys could speak, their nostrils were ravaged by a rotten, sickening smell. Sirius covered his nose with his sleeve, and said through the fabric, "Merlin, what is that? It smells like rotting Muggle bits!"
Rabastan scrunched his nose and shrinked from the door. "Blast it, Sirius, what did I say? Get away!" He shoved Sirius toward the wall opposite the door, and ducked his head as his angry energy sent a torch flying to the ground with a crash. The fire caught alight from the fumes and gained an intimidating height. "Look what you've done, Black!" Rabastan stared back with widened eyes reflecting the rising fire.
"That wasn't me! D'you want to kill us?"
It smelled absolutely putrid now, mixed with the scent of the fire, and they both knew that nothing would keep them immune from trouble if they were caught. Sirius looked between the fire and Rabastan, and chose self-preservation. He started jogging down the hallway, dragging his friend along.
"Damn it, Rabbit, let's get out of here."
Rabastan ran behind, relieved that Sirius had finally seen reason, and terrified of the prospect of anything emerging from the passageway.
After rounding a corner, Rabastan halted. "Elf?" he whispered into the air, to Tiggly appearing before them with little delay. The boy furrowed his brow and blinked slowly and frequently, and let his lower lip tremble. "The--there's f-fire and the d-door and p-passage a-and make it g-go away.”
As soon as Tiggly popped away, the act fell and the actor wheeled on Sirius. "Sorry, but without the fire, you would've been in there and who knows what would've eaten you or peeled off your skin or-- or--" He looked on his friend wildly. "Not everything is a game! What would I say to your parents? What would I say to my parents? What would I say to the Aurors?" He swung his arm upside Sirius’ head in emphasis.
"Hey!" Sirius rubbed the back of his head, though Rabastan had inflicted no real pain. "Just because we're at your home, you've gotten all high and mighty on me, setting fire to things just for the bollocks of it. It could've been perfectly safe and now we won't know, now will we?"
The words smacked of entitlement more than anger. It was rare for someone to stop Sirius from doing something he wanted to - Rabastan was one of few, and he never did so in that manner. Sirius’ smug arrogance in his own luck or brilliance or good fortune showed itself quite clearly in the way he glared at Rabastan - as if he was immortal, unafraid of mortal toils. Well, Rabastan was finished with smug arrogance.
"I'm not high and mighty! I'm just not so foolishly reckless!" Rabastan glared, and dropped his voice to a cool tone. "You better keep me around, Sirius, or you're going to get yourself killed before you've left school. Started school, even."
"If you need to keep me from dying, I need to keep you from living like a bore. You'd miss out on so many brilliant things without me."
"You’re such a child!" Rabastan realized they were children, but he had heard all sorts of stories about Hogwarts, and it was clearly a Very Dangerous Place not fit for recklessness of the kind that Sirius refused to abandon. He didn't expect Sirius to abandon it even for Hogwarts-- after all, that's one of the reasons why they worked so well as friends-- but it was exhausting. And, at times, terrifying. “When are you going to grow up?”
"Grow up? You're a fine one to start talking to me about growing up! I'm far more grown up than you are in some ways, and you're only just over a month older than me so you'd better not try to use that!"
"Well you aren't acting very grown up, are you? You saw that door and thought like a little kid, just another place to play! Not, why is this door hidden and we've not been told? You think you'd've learned caution at some point. Fine Slytherin you'll make, jumping into dubious hidden passages with no planning or forethought!"
Sirius scowled at his friend darkly, his nose scrunched up and his arms folded resolutely before him in a pose of stubbornness, although the effect was rather lost because his nose now made his expression look more bunny-like than frighteningly proud. "I don't plan because I'm better than that," he lied smoothly, "not because I don't think of it."
Rabastan sneered back at Sirius's posturing. "Dragon snot! You don't plan because I'm always there to pull you out of your messes before they get too messy!"
"And I guess you're the expert on cleaning up other peoples' messes, then, aren't you? Do you like going around being everyone else's surrogate mum, then? Or are you just a scared pansy?"
Rabastan had been pushed too far. Sirius had incited him to start a fire in his own house, and even though they were now far from the hidden door, the other boy had not let up.
His hands were balled into fists and he bit his lip to try to not lose control, but it was lost. Rabastan leaned in to Sirius and spat the words, quietly but with more anger than he had gathered yet. "I only have to clean up messes for you, but I'm starting to think it's not worth it. If it's such a bore to be my friend, don't bother!"
The boy spun on his heel and ran as fast as he could through the halls-- he knew the way, and it was easy to disappear in a flash. He left his friend in the cold hallway, standing in place, still and pale, feet like lead. It wasn't until Rabastan's hurried footsteps died away that Sirius began to move, first glaring, then pacing, then scuffing his feet along the floor, his eyes focused on the texture below him.
Upstairs, Rabastan threw himself onto his bed. He didn't need a friend that was going to be so mean, ungrateful, reckless... After several minutes he finally grabbed the book on his nightstand and tried to read, but he was too angry. As he flipped through the pages, the anger turned into questions.
What if Sirius left? What if he had Flooed home without a goodbye? What if he was lost? Or had put his head into something and-- Rabastan swallowed hard. No, he couldn’t think that. But if they weren't friends anymore, who else would be Rabastan's best friend? Not Regulus-- he was all right sometimes but a little kid, after all, and Sirius' brother. Not Darren-- he was only good in small doses. He hated to admit it, but life without Sirius would be dull, and he knew Sirius better than almost anyone. But it didn't matter, because Sirius was gone.
A knock on his door and a jiggling of the lock begged to differ. The anger returned, and Rabastan considered ignoring the door. But then-- he had missed Sirius, hadn't he? And his friend had come back to him.
The boy placed his book back in its place, pulled himself up and went to the door. He unlocked and opened it and looked slightly up into the face of his friend. He was relieved, but didn’t let it show. "What do you want?"
It was a good question. Sirius’s first thought when Rabastan left him had been to Floo home and bid good riddance to it all - to Rabastan’s nagging, to Tor DeLorange, to sleepovers and pranks on Darren and wandering basement hallways. He turned a corner forcefully, kicking his foot at a non-existent rock or elf in the way, and realized that his footsteps sounded very alone in the hallway he had never seen before.
But he had been too harsh. Rabastan had always looked out for him - gotten him out of sticky spots with his mother, pulled him away from exploding and snapping Dark objects. And, he’d realized glumly, he missed Rabastan. He missed having his friend there beside him, who was honest and who was trustworthy and who stuck with him even when Sirius got them into boatloads upon boatloads of trouble. Who would he be without Rabastan around?
That thought had sent Sirius bolting like a Quidditch player bursting onto the pitch. But the manor had set him stumbling upon many, many rooms and halls that began to blur together. When he finally found the familiar door, he was sweaty and clammy and had thought of so many ways in which this could go wrong. Perhaps Rabastan already had another friend over, and had forgotten him, or perhaps -
Whatever it was, Sirius did not expect seeing Rabastan's gaze poke out from behind a mostly-closed door. What he wanted was to stand before his friend, not attempt a reconciliation through a door. "I - um," he began. "Can I - erm - come in? You know, to talk?"
Rabastan, despite all his pretense of maturity, rolled his eyes. "I guess," he accepted, opening the door wide and nodding to a couple of soft navy blue chairs, but crossing his arms.
He sunk into one chair and looked over at Sirius doubtfully. He really wanted his friend back, but he had been also been called all sorts of things just for being sensible-- so it wasn't going to be easy necessarily. Rabastan fought the urge to grin and shake hands. "So you've decided I'm not too high and mighty for you anymore, or what?"
Now that Sirius was in the room, he didn't quite know what to say. He looked down at his feet, watching the soles of his shoes just brushing the floor. "Um, about that." His ears were burning red now, set smoldering by the chastisement of Rabastan's stoically distant expression. "I was...I was out of line, to say that. I shouldn't've called you high and mighty, and I shouldn't've called you a pansy, either."
He then peeked up at Rabastan through his bangs to see how Rabastan took it. His feet still swayed against the floor: swish, swish, swish.
"No, you shouldn't've."
Rabastan sighed and unfolded his arms. "But I shouldn't've said what I did about the Blacks either. You know I think highly of your family. Anyway. If you're sorry," he offered, "I guess I can forgive you." Rabastan smiled, as if sharing a secret, and half-stood, holding out his hand to shake.
Sirius's face lit up like a child's after his first successful sign of magic, and he reached out to shake Rabastan's hand. Halfway there, though, he instead hurled himself at the other boy, laughing, and they fell back into the oversized chair. "I'm glad - I don't know what I would've done if you didn't."
"Neither do I, really. After you, I don't think anyone else'd do as a best friend. Avery? Cissy? I'd rather die."
Sirius's grin widened at Rabastan's words. "You little berk! You had me absolutely petrified that you would've just upped and left me!"
Rabastan scooted away and bit his lip. "So are we back to normal? Because I've got a new chess set and I thought maybe you could spend the night and we could play after supper."
Sirius extricated himself from Rabastan's chair, where they were both all tangled up, still gleeful. "Of course we're back to normal, if you say so - I'll leave a message at home with Floo, and I'm sure my parents won't mind. We can break your new chess pieces in brilliantly tonight."
Rabastan stood up, and breathed comfortably again. Sirius, too, seemed to be at ease once more. Things were back as they should be, and the fight was over, whatever it had really been about. He pushed aside thoughts of dungeons and families and recklessness and cowardice, and grinned. “Smashing! Best of friends, as ever.”