Rabbit: January 1969
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: January 1969: Fixed (23/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 1356
Workshop?: Suggestions always welcome.
January 9, 1969
Fixed
Rabastan’s chin slumped into his hands. The cards in front of him, and Sirius’ hands that played with them, looked worlds away. Darren, off on the other side of the room, sitting against the wall with crossed arms and a death glare, took up all of Rabastan’s view.
“You should talk to him.”
“Don’t want to.”
“But it’s rude.”
Sirius stopped his game, leaned down, and stuck his face in front of his friend’s. “He’s rude,” he hissed. “He stole half my cards! He called me names!”
“Right, but-”
“But nothing.” The boy sat back up and turned toward Darren, meeting glare with glare. “Darren Avery is daft and rude and not fun. And smelly.”
“Sirius!” Rabastan had launched himself forward and now clung to his friend’s left arm. “He’s my cousin!”
“So? I have Weasleys for cousins. It doesn’t mean anything if they aren’t worth being family. Family can change.”
Rabastan stole a glance at his cousin, and a shiver went down his spine. Darren being silent and brooding was no good, not for anyone. And he did not like this talk of cutting Darren off. His eyes welled with tears. “No it can’t. And you’re only making it worse.”
“You’re on his side, then? This is the boy that pushed you into a pool of freezing water. On your birthday. I’m supposed to be your best mate. We’re like brothers.”
Rabastan had trouble even looking at either of them now: Sirius had disappointment and disbelief all over his face; and Darren, sulking, made the boy’s stomach turn. “I’m not on his side,” he insisted. “I’m always on yours. It’s just... this is stupid, and he’s my guest too.”
Sirius rolled his eyes around the entire world. “Well if you’re so clever and mature and have to be nice to your beastly no-fun Muggle guests, that’s your problem. If he’s sorry he can say so first.”
It was an impossible situation, and Rabastan had no idea what to do. He looked at the slippers on his feet and tried to think of what Rodolphus would do. His brother was always able to smooth things over, make everyone happy, with a flash of a smile or a few choice words. But Maman, she would say to let people be, let the cauldron cool before stirring it.
He certainly did not see the point in that. There was a problem, and he could fix it, and then Darren and Sirius would be happy again, and he could be happy again, and they could do something fun. “Promise?”
Sirius’ head snapped toward Rabastan. “Promise what?”
“That if he says sorry first, you’ll let him play again.”
“I never said that, actually,” Sirius noted, but Rabastan took that as good enough and pushed himself up.
It was an awkward walk over to the wall, short as it was, but Rabastan managed. He leaned against the wall where Darren sat, and slid down until he sat next to his cousin.
“Hullo.”
“’Lo.”
“I think you hurt Sirius’ feelings.”
Darren broke his death-glare to face Rabastan. “So what if I have? He called me a Muggle.”
“Only after.”
“And he hurt my feelings. Just because he didn’t want to play by your rules doesn’t mean he can blame me and go around saying that I’m stealing cards.” Darren kicked his foot out and knocked a small but elaborate tower of blocks across the rug.
Rabastan sighed. “He’s really sorry for it.”
“He doesn’t look sorry.”
The boy looked back at his friend-or rather, his friend’s back. Why could he not at least look sorry? “He is. He told me. He’s just not good at saying so.”
“That part’s true.”
“You just have to say sorry first. He wants to play with you again.”
Darren dropped his guard a notch, leaned very far forward, and looked into Rabastan’s eyes to try to read the truth. Rabastan held his breath and tried to act like someone whose friend was actually sorry. He was not entirely clear what that someone would act like, but it worked well enough, because Darren dropped his arms and said, “Fine.”
“Really?”
“It’s duller than rocks over here anyway. If I wanted to play by myself I would have stayed home.”
“Smash-ing!” sang Rabastan. He launched himself off the wall with ease and pulled Darren up and over to Sirius’ lonely card game. “Sirius! Look!”
Sirius looked behind and scowled at the sight. “Why should I?”
“He’s come to apologize.”
Darren looked side-to-side for some relief, but, finding none, went ahead. “Sorry. I don’t think you’re a duffer or a Squib. Or a greedy goblin with poison earwax.”
Sirius shifted on the ground, but did not stand. “Good.”
Rabastan and Darren exchanged a glance. They had expected more than “good”.
“Sirius, don’t you have something to say, too?”
“No. I didn’t do anything wrong. Those rules were all wrong. They weren’t fair.”
Darren crossed his arms again. “Well, I don’t give a fig about the rules, either. They’re Rabbit’s, not mine. I just thought we’d agreed to them.”
“So you thought you’d take all my cards?”
“I said I was sorry!” Darren huffed. “Rabbit said you’d apologize if I did.”
Rabastan did not like where this was going, and found himself stepping back.
Sirius was standing now. He looked his friend up and down, scrunched his face together, and shook his head. “I told you I wouldn’t. You lied.”
“I had to! And that doesn’t mean he didn’t actually apologize. He did. Come on, now, you shouldn’t’ve kicked him out of the game or called him names. You know that. At least let him back in.”
“You’re not my mother, Lestrange,” Sirius spat. “I’ll do what I like.”
Rabastan turned toward Darren, but found no sympathy there. “I knew it,” his cousin said. “I knew he wouldn’t give it up. Sometimes I think you’re all right, Rabbit, but not around him. I’m going to the garden. You can tell me when Mummy arrives.”
“Darren!” Rabastan tried to do anything, but Darren’s mind was made up, and the younger boy had already turned and started out the door. “It’s too cold!”
Sirius stood by and watched the Avery clambor down the hall. “Let him go.” He patted Rabastan’s shoulder and sat back down next to the cards. “We’re better alone, and now you don’t have to watch him try to murder us with his eyes.”
Rabastan stood in place, hating himself for having made everything even worse. He saw Sirius look back up at him, but shut his eyes to avoid the exchange and keep himself from crying.
“Are you going to cry?”
“No,” Rabastan insisted.
Sirius rose again and sat on the desk by the door. “You’re really upset?”
“No, it’s just-yes, I-” Rabastan stumbled over his thoughts. “I just wanted us to have fun. We play the best games when we all play together. Now the whole day is ruined!”
Sirius rubbed his foot against his other ankle, looked down, switched them, and looked back up. “Listen, Rabbit, I didn’t mean to ruin your day.” He shook his head in a feeble attempt to get a stray lock of black hair out of his eyes. “I bet even Darren wouldn’t want to. He likes you.”
“N-no. Everyone thinks I’m bossy and I can’t even end a row that I started.”
The desk knocked into the wall as Sirius jumped off of it. “Pish posh, parsley sauce. Come on, Rabbit.” The boy took his friend’s hand and tugged. “I’ll go make up and it’ll all be right as rain.”
“Will it?”
“Of course. Just let it be, next time. Mother always says to let the cauldron cool before you stir it.”
Rabastan stared at Sirius in disbelief. “If you followed half your mother’s advice,” he pointed out through a smirk, “Darren wouldn’t be down in the garden.”
“Ha!” Sirius barked. “Fair enough. Come on, now.”
Rabastan glanced back at the mess of cards and blocks that they had left behind. With a sigh, he took Sirius’ hand, and away they rushed, to make things right.
Chapter Number/Title: January 1969: Fixed (23/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 1356
Workshop?: Suggestions always welcome.
January 9, 1969
Fixed
Rabastan’s chin slumped into his hands. The cards in front of him, and Sirius’ hands that played with them, looked worlds away. Darren, off on the other side of the room, sitting against the wall with crossed arms and a death glare, took up all of Rabastan’s view.
“You should talk to him.”
“Don’t want to.”
“But it’s rude.”
Sirius stopped his game, leaned down, and stuck his face in front of his friend’s. “He’s rude,” he hissed. “He stole half my cards! He called me names!”
“Right, but-”
“But nothing.” The boy sat back up and turned toward Darren, meeting glare with glare. “Darren Avery is daft and rude and not fun. And smelly.”
“Sirius!” Rabastan had launched himself forward and now clung to his friend’s left arm. “He’s my cousin!”
“So? I have Weasleys for cousins. It doesn’t mean anything if they aren’t worth being family. Family can change.”
Rabastan stole a glance at his cousin, and a shiver went down his spine. Darren being silent and brooding was no good, not for anyone. And he did not like this talk of cutting Darren off. His eyes welled with tears. “No it can’t. And you’re only making it worse.”
“You’re on his side, then? This is the boy that pushed you into a pool of freezing water. On your birthday. I’m supposed to be your best mate. We’re like brothers.”
Rabastan had trouble even looking at either of them now: Sirius had disappointment and disbelief all over his face; and Darren, sulking, made the boy’s stomach turn. “I’m not on his side,” he insisted. “I’m always on yours. It’s just... this is stupid, and he’s my guest too.”
Sirius rolled his eyes around the entire world. “Well if you’re so clever and mature and have to be nice to your beastly no-fun Muggle guests, that’s your problem. If he’s sorry he can say so first.”
It was an impossible situation, and Rabastan had no idea what to do. He looked at the slippers on his feet and tried to think of what Rodolphus would do. His brother was always able to smooth things over, make everyone happy, with a flash of a smile or a few choice words. But Maman, she would say to let people be, let the cauldron cool before stirring it.
He certainly did not see the point in that. There was a problem, and he could fix it, and then Darren and Sirius would be happy again, and he could be happy again, and they could do something fun. “Promise?”
Sirius’ head snapped toward Rabastan. “Promise what?”
“That if he says sorry first, you’ll let him play again.”
“I never said that, actually,” Sirius noted, but Rabastan took that as good enough and pushed himself up.
It was an awkward walk over to the wall, short as it was, but Rabastan managed. He leaned against the wall where Darren sat, and slid down until he sat next to his cousin.
“Hullo.”
“’Lo.”
“I think you hurt Sirius’ feelings.”
Darren broke his death-glare to face Rabastan. “So what if I have? He called me a Muggle.”
“Only after.”
“And he hurt my feelings. Just because he didn’t want to play by your rules doesn’t mean he can blame me and go around saying that I’m stealing cards.” Darren kicked his foot out and knocked a small but elaborate tower of blocks across the rug.
Rabastan sighed. “He’s really sorry for it.”
“He doesn’t look sorry.”
The boy looked back at his friend-or rather, his friend’s back. Why could he not at least look sorry? “He is. He told me. He’s just not good at saying so.”
“That part’s true.”
“You just have to say sorry first. He wants to play with you again.”
Darren dropped his guard a notch, leaned very far forward, and looked into Rabastan’s eyes to try to read the truth. Rabastan held his breath and tried to act like someone whose friend was actually sorry. He was not entirely clear what that someone would act like, but it worked well enough, because Darren dropped his arms and said, “Fine.”
“Really?”
“It’s duller than rocks over here anyway. If I wanted to play by myself I would have stayed home.”
“Smash-ing!” sang Rabastan. He launched himself off the wall with ease and pulled Darren up and over to Sirius’ lonely card game. “Sirius! Look!”
Sirius looked behind and scowled at the sight. “Why should I?”
“He’s come to apologize.”
Darren looked side-to-side for some relief, but, finding none, went ahead. “Sorry. I don’t think you’re a duffer or a Squib. Or a greedy goblin with poison earwax.”
Sirius shifted on the ground, but did not stand. “Good.”
Rabastan and Darren exchanged a glance. They had expected more than “good”.
“Sirius, don’t you have something to say, too?”
“No. I didn’t do anything wrong. Those rules were all wrong. They weren’t fair.”
Darren crossed his arms again. “Well, I don’t give a fig about the rules, either. They’re Rabbit’s, not mine. I just thought we’d agreed to them.”
“So you thought you’d take all my cards?”
“I said I was sorry!” Darren huffed. “Rabbit said you’d apologize if I did.”
Rabastan did not like where this was going, and found himself stepping back.
Sirius was standing now. He looked his friend up and down, scrunched his face together, and shook his head. “I told you I wouldn’t. You lied.”
“I had to! And that doesn’t mean he didn’t actually apologize. He did. Come on, now, you shouldn’t’ve kicked him out of the game or called him names. You know that. At least let him back in.”
“You’re not my mother, Lestrange,” Sirius spat. “I’ll do what I like.”
Rabastan turned toward Darren, but found no sympathy there. “I knew it,” his cousin said. “I knew he wouldn’t give it up. Sometimes I think you’re all right, Rabbit, but not around him. I’m going to the garden. You can tell me when Mummy arrives.”
“Darren!” Rabastan tried to do anything, but Darren’s mind was made up, and the younger boy had already turned and started out the door. “It’s too cold!”
Sirius stood by and watched the Avery clambor down the hall. “Let him go.” He patted Rabastan’s shoulder and sat back down next to the cards. “We’re better alone, and now you don’t have to watch him try to murder us with his eyes.”
Rabastan stood in place, hating himself for having made everything even worse. He saw Sirius look back up at him, but shut his eyes to avoid the exchange and keep himself from crying.
“Are you going to cry?”
“No,” Rabastan insisted.
Sirius rose again and sat on the desk by the door. “You’re really upset?”
“No, it’s just-yes, I-” Rabastan stumbled over his thoughts. “I just wanted us to have fun. We play the best games when we all play together. Now the whole day is ruined!”
Sirius rubbed his foot against his other ankle, looked down, switched them, and looked back up. “Listen, Rabbit, I didn’t mean to ruin your day.” He shook his head in a feeble attempt to get a stray lock of black hair out of his eyes. “I bet even Darren wouldn’t want to. He likes you.”
“N-no. Everyone thinks I’m bossy and I can’t even end a row that I started.”
The desk knocked into the wall as Sirius jumped off of it. “Pish posh, parsley sauce. Come on, Rabbit.” The boy took his friend’s hand and tugged. “I’ll go make up and it’ll all be right as rain.”
“Will it?”
“Of course. Just let it be, next time. Mother always says to let the cauldron cool before you stir it.”
Rabastan stared at Sirius in disbelief. “If you followed half your mother’s advice,” he pointed out through a smirk, “Darren wouldn’t be down in the garden.”
“Ha!” Sirius barked. “Fair enough. Come on, now.”
Rabastan glanced back at the mess of cards and blocks that they had left behind. With a sigh, he took Sirius’ hand, and away they rushed, to make things right.