Trust is a Fickle Thing... | Rabastan & Vivian

[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Vivian walked down the dark streets of Hogsmeade, wearing her warm black cloak, her hood up to guard against the drizzling rain, and also to keep her distinctive blonde hair under wraps. Today, Vivian didn't want to be noticed; she didn't want to leave a lasting impression.

A few days ago her friend, Theo Nott, had dropped quite the bombshell. Vivian had known for a while that Theodore Nott Sr. wasn't Theo's real father, and she had found out the identity of his real dad, Rabastan Lestrange, when she had helped Theo try to send a letter to him. That letter had had some disastrous consequences, but, thanks to Vivian, the two of them had come out of it relatively unscathed (at least in Vivian's mind; Theo had had other opinions). But the other day she had found out about a much more pleasant consequence of the letter.

Rabastan Lestrange had heard that someone at Hogwarts was trying to contact him, and guessed that it was his son. He had found Theo in the forbidden forest, and the two of them had been reunited at last. Theo had been positively aglow about it all. But Vivian wasn't so sure about him, for one reason; Lestrange didn't trust her.

Apparently Rabastan Lestrange had told Theo to be very careful about who he told. Which Vivian completely understood. But Lestrange had singled her out specifically as being untrustworthy. This rankled Vivian; she had been Theo's friend now for seven years, taken the fall for him with that letter, proven that she cared about him and was in it for the long run. But because of her surname, and who she had been brought up (dragged up was more like it) by, Lestrange didn't trust her. To be fair, Vivian couldn't really fault his logic; he had advised Theo not to tell his girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass, and Vivian knew he hadn't yet. Vivian trusted Greengrass about as much as she trusted everyone else (which admittedly was not a lot), but she had already seen her lose her head with jealousy, when she'd heard Vivian had kissed Theo. Clearly she wasn't one to keep a level head when faced with the ups and downs of love. And sure, right now they were on an up, but that could change. Vivian didn't know what Daphne might do if she and Theo broke up, out of anger, or jealousy.

And so, because Vivian could at least see the logic behind Lestrange's opinions, she had agreed with a level head to meet him in the Hogs Head tonight. Apparently Daphne Greengrass wasn't the threat; she, Vivian, was. Theo had said that Lestrange wanted to get to know her, but she could tell there was something he was leaving out. She hadn't pressed him. She would meet Rabastan Lestrange for herself, and figure things out from him.

Of course, Vivian wasn't stupid. This little meeting was to ascertain whether or not she was trustworthy. And she hadn't overlooked the obvious, either; what would happen if Lestrange decided that she wasn't?

When Vivian made it to the Hogs Head, she didn't lower her hood. Keeping your hood up was something of a fashion in the place, so she wouldn't draw attention that way. But she might if she let it down. Even with her hair and most of her face covered, she was still drawing some looks. She glanced around until she saw who had to be Lestrange. He looked just like Theo; the same dark curly hair, the same habit of leaving their beard unkempt, the same expression of deep thought that Vivian knew so well. Only this man was older, and darker, as though the years hadn't been kind to him. Vivian's face was impassive as she walked over to him.

"Lestrange," she said, keeping her voice low, so no one else would hear. It wasn't a question.

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

Rabastan Lestrange sat in one of the only shady pubs he trusted himself to go in without being recognized. During his days at Hogwarts he'd rarely, if ever, stepped foot inside the Hogs Head, and after Hogwarts... Well, he'd not gotten a chance to set foot in any pub. So, when the time came for him to choose a meeting location to meet with this... Blackwell girl, he knew exactly where they'd be going. He still didn't like the idea of all of this. It hadn't been more than a day and Theo had already told the one person he warned him not to trust. Did he even listen?

Rabastan smirked. Perhaps the boy was more like him than he wanted to realize. He remembered getting that... call? It wasn't a call. He remembered the mirror. At first he'd been afraid something had gone wrong, that Theo was warning him to get out to leave. He knew part of i t was paranoia still leftover from the years he spent in Azkaban. Every time something out of the ordinary happened there was a part of Rabastan that panicked, no matter how momentary. It was easy for fear to creep into your heart out of nowhere after having spent so many years in that damned hell hole. Freedom had been like a breath of fresh air after being choked to death over and over again for twelve years.

He pushed the remembrances of those times aside as he stared at the table. He was clad in dark jeans and a dark jacket, his hood remained up, mostly concealing his face. No matter how safe he thought he was he knew to trust no one. He knew he wasn't safe anywhere. He was silent as a shadow as he watched the other people in the pub, taking in their every move, watching for some sign of the person he was waiting for. Vivian Blackwell. Again the name caused discomfort to settle in the pit of his stomach. He thought back to when he'd saw Theo in the mirror. Theo had told him he told Vivian Blackwell about what happened. About how he'd met Rabastan in the forest, and his mother... Cecelia. He didn't like that. He didn't like one bit and he made sure Theo knew it, but in the end it had been Theo's decision. But he wasn't comfortable with it, so, being the man of persuasion he was, he made a deal with Theo.

He would meet with Vivian Blackwell to see if they could really trust her. If they could, fine. If they couldn't, Rabastan was to erase Vivian's memory of everything involving Rabastan and Theo. She would forget about the letter, about meeting him here in this pub, about that entire days events, really. But Theo was his son through and through, and made Rabastan a deal of his own. If Rabastan didn't trust Vivian enough and wanted to erase her memory, then Theo made him promise to erase her parents from her memory as well. So she would be happy. He agreed to try, but he couldn't make any promises. Parents, as Theo very likely knew, were a huge part of someone's life, and to take away so many years... It could be detrimental, but he told Theo if he didn't trust her then he would, but he was far from making that decision. And just as he was wondering where the girl was he heard a voice from in front of him.

He looked up and his eyes fell on Vivian, the beautiful Veela girl he knew so little about, but felt like he knew everything about because of who she was raised by, and who her parents were. In his book Blackwell was a blacklisted name, and in all honesty they only reason he was doing this was to protect Theo. If it were only himself he was worried about he would have erased her memory then and there, but Theo thought he could trust her, and Rabastan owed it to him to give this a shot. He waved a hand in front of him in gesture for her to sit.

"So, Blackwell. Give me one good reason why I should even begin to trust you. Between your father and your step-father. Well let's just say things don't look too highly in your favor," despite the fact they were away from other tables, and not very close to anyone, he kept his voice coming out in a low, quiet rumble, like the thunder of a storm that's just out of reach.

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Rabastan Lestrange addressed her by her last name, and gestured for her to sit down in a very dismissive fashion. But Vivian merely gave him a very small, slightly amused smile, and took the seat opposite him at their small table. They were the furthest away from the other bar patrons as it was possible to get, but Rabastan still spoke in a low voice. His voice was deep, and rumbled like thunder.

"I see where Theo gets his manners from," Vivian said, slightly coolly. It seemed strange to Vivian that Rabastan Lestrange mistrusted her so deeply because of her name. Blackwell. The name she had taken from a man she had never met. Was Blackwell blood really so potent that it could influence her, even if she'd never met the man?

Now that they were sitting face to face, Vivian took the time to examine Rabastan more closely. His eyes were very dark, almost black, and they were deep, almost endless... like black holes, sucking you into the darkness. She wondered what kind of dreams a man who had spent twelve years in Azkaban had.

He cut right to the chase, which was something. At least he didn't toy with her. Vivian leaned forward, resting her arms on the table in front of her. The gesture had clear meaning; I'm not afraid of you.

"My father," she said, her voice low. "It seems like you know more about him than I do. Please, tell me more?" Vivian hoped she made her point. The man was nothing to her.

As for her step father... that was something else entirely. She was sure she'd have to answer questions about him, and she would, for Theo's sake... but she wouldn't be the one to bring it up. Rabastan Lestrange would have to push a little harder before she spoke on that matter. Not that she doubted that he would.

"Maybe I should be the one asking you," Vivian said, staring Rabastan dead in the eye. "Why should I trust you? I've been Theo's best friend for seven years... where have you been? Apart from the obvious." Vivian knew that a lot of people were put off when they looked right into her eyes. They were curiously emotionless, although she had begun to open up more, because of Theo. But still, there was an unnatural calm there, especially now as she faced a possible adversary.

Vivian realised it would look strange, the two of them sat there without any drinks, and that the bar man likely wouldn't take too kindly to it. She caught his eye, and he approached them, looking as though she'd caught him in the middle of something important, when really he had just been wiping a glass with a filthy rag.
"Two Firewhiskeys," she said, "he's buying." She looked back to Rabastan as the bar man slouched away, smiling slightly. "Appearances." she said, simply, still smiling.

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

Vivian commented on the fact that she could see where Theo got his manner from and as snippy and cool as the comment had been intended Rabastan couldn't help but let out low chuckle. So Theo was very get to the point as well, on occasion, then, was he? The thought brought a smirk to his face, but he said nothing in reply as the girl seated herself before him. She placed her elbows on the table as if in gesture to intimidated him, or at the very least to show him that she was not afraid. I'm not trying to scare you, he thought to himself, slightly amused at the girl's instinct on his intentions. He didn't trust her an ounce, no, but he had no ulterior motive for calling this meeting other than the fact that he wanted to know if he could trust Vivian Blackwell. Intimidation and fear were unnecessary.

She spouted off about her father and Rabastan could tell from her tone that she didn't know and didn't care much for her father, Blackwell. His eyes remained staring at her. Perhaps she wasn't that bad after all.

The only things I know about your father you likely don't want to hear. He's not a very good person, let's put it that way. And coming from someone like me, that should put it into perspective, Rabstan said, his voice low and rumbling. It was true. In most cases, if a man who'd been locked up in Azkaban for 12 years told you someone was a bad person, most of the time you'd believe them.

And then she began asking him questions. He was taken quite off-guard and he narrowed his eyes at her as she asked why she should bother trusting him. His temper flared quickly but he clenched his jaw to keep it in check. She knew nothing of the story. She knew nothing about what it was like in that hellhole, or what it had been like to serve the Dark Lord. She had no right to be asking such things of him. Still, it was good that she'd been Theo's friend for all of those years, but he'd not stand for her sitting there thinking she was his judge and jury. He stared directly back into her eyes that swirled like a dark void, unflinching and unfazed.

"Please, tell me, Vivian, at what point, between getting out of Azkaban and serving the Dark Lord and fighting in a war, did you want me to stop by and ruin my son's life by having him dragged off to Azkaban?" he said, his voice strong and even, though there was an obvious edge to his words. He'd have continued had it not been for a rugged old barman who come and asked if they'd wanted anything. Vivian ordered two drinks... on him? He quirked a brow at the girl as she passed it off as 'appearances.' His face fell into one of no amusement, but in the end he shrugged as the firewhiskeys were brought to them. He could use a good, strong drink. This girl was so full of herself, and so completely sure of herself it was almost nauseating.

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Vivian ignored the dig about her father. As far as she was concerned, she didn't have one. Her step dad certainly was not a father figure, and she'd never had anything to do with the man that had shagged her mother. But Vivian knew that in Lestrange's eyes she had 'bad blood', and so any insult to her biological father was an insult to her.

Her question made him angry, she could see it, no matter how hard he tried to keep it under control. So like Theo. He had a bit of a temper, too. Vivian was used to it, and knew how to handle it. If anything, that slight show of anger bubbling below the surface reassured her. She didn't know this man, but she knew Theo like the back of her hand. Any time he showed himself to be like his son was a time she understood him.

She noticed that he called her 'Vivian', not 'Blackwell'. First name terms already? My my, this was going well. She was sure she and Rabastan would be fast friends before the night was out...

"Preferably some time before he started taking a beating from Nott," she replied, her voice equally strong. Theo was all she had in the world. The knowledge that he too had been beaten... that had hurt.

She took a breath, and then removed her hood. It was pointless, keeping it up, and it was making her uncomfortable. The bar was almost empty, and the two of them, locked in their intense discussion such as they were, were already not being very discrete. She ran a hand through her hair, a comforting gesture she was glad to be able to do again. Her blonde hair was pulled over one shoulder, tumbling down in a sea of curls. Her hair was like her armour.

"But I know that wasn't an option." She said, slightly begrudgingly. As much as she might hate to admit it, it wasn't fair to have expected Lestrange to be there for Theo. But that didn't change the fact that she wished he had been. She wished someone had been. "But if you thought you could just swan into Theo's life and find no one to even question you on it, you were wrong." Theo didn't really have anyone to look out for him, apart from her. Well, Greengrass, maybe, but she was sure to be too preoccupied with making sure Theo's daddy liked her, if ever she met him (which didn't seem likely at this point), to ask the tough questions. Vivian didn't care if Rabastan hated her guts, as long as he didn't interfere in her friendship with Theo, and as long as he was a good person for Theo to have in his life.

Vivian sat back in her seat, and took a drink of her Firewhiskey, her eyes not leaving Rabastan's. She was still weighing him up, wondering what to make of him. In some ways he was very much like Theo, but in others he was utterly different.

"Aren't you going to ask me about Woods?" she asked. She knew she'd have to speak on him eventually, and as much as she'd resolved not to be the one to bring him up, the tension was starting to get to her. Knowing it was coming wasn't nice at all. That was the one topic of conversation where cracks might start to show in her cool demeanour.

She took another drink, this time a deeper one. If she was going to talk about John Woods, she might as well fortify herself first. She wondered what Theo had told his dad.

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

Rabastan listened as Vivian said she wanted him to stop by sometime before Nott started beating Theo and Rabastan felt his veins run cold and hot at the same time. Cold at the thought of Nott beating his son and hot because of the anger it brought him. He stared at her, his jaw clenched as he debated on his reaction. He'd wanted to shout at her, but that wasn't an option. Not for him. He would have to stay calm and cool and collected as he could no matter how little the Blackwell girl seemed to know. She knew nothing about what it was like to be a father, and knew nothing about what it was like to find out about your son too late. She knew nothing.

He opened his mouth to say something but Vivian then said she knew that wasn't an option. Rabastan's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Then why bring it up? I would have been there if I could, if I'd known... That little shit will pay for all he's done to this family," Rabstan's voice came out cold and low and dangerous. Anything involving Nott was sure to make his temper rise at an alarming rate. The thought of what he'd done to Theo, and to Cecelia, it was too much to think about. It brought too much pain, but more than that, it brought too much anger. But Nott would pay for his crimes one day. If it was the last thing Rabastan ever did, Nott would know pain unlike any other.

Her next statement caught him slightly offguard, and the point she made was rather.... Well, it was a rather good one. Theo hadn't thought for a second to question who he was. Perhaps Vivian being untrustworthy of him was a good thing, in some ways. It meant she was looking out for Theo as well. They both seemed to have that in common. But still, there was something about her demeanor, the way she presented herself, like she was the one who should be having trust issues. She wasn't the one on the run from Aurors and hiding out, was she? He smirked at her. At least the girl had guts. He had to give her that much.

"Well forgive my son for not being more wary of his father. I assure you the last thing I mean to do is harm Theo in any way. He's my son," the last word held a tinge of emotion that he'd not allowed to show through before. But the fact was that Rabastan was truly delighted to have a son, and the fact that this girl was sitting here, making him seem like he would ever have any intention to harm Theo was slightly offensive.

She asked if he was going to ask about Woods, and his brow quirked toward her. Theo mentioned that Vivian hated her parents, and Rabastan at the time assumed she hated Woods and her mother. But why? Why did she hate them, and why would she be the one to bring them up? He watched as she took two sips of her firewhiskey. The first was more shallow than the second. Vivian Blackwell was uncomfortable. The thought brought a smirk to his face before his eyes met hers.

"Yes. I would. Theo mentioned you didn't like him or your mother much?" Rabastan waited for more details involving the Blackwell girl and Woods.

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Rabastan asked why she'd brought up the fact that he hadn't been there for Theo, but Vivian didn't bother answering. He knew why she had brought it up. It was something of a pressure point, for her, for Theo, for all of them. He said that Nott would pay.

"Yes," Vivian said, her voice icy, "he will."

If she ever got Theodore Nott Sr. alone, she would make him scream. She would shut down whatever emotions Theo had already managed to bring out in her, and she would do it gladly. She would get her vicious little claws into that man, and she would make him regret every time he'd ever laid a hand on her friend. How did you defend yourself against someone who didn't feel? Against someone who didn't care how many hits they took as long as they got to you in the end? His blood wouldn't phase her. His pleas wouldn't move her.

A part of her wondered why she had never done that to John Woods, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was because when it came to him, and her mother, the chinks in Vivian's armour began to show. He caused her to shut down emotionally, but she didn't know if she could stay level headed when dealing with him. But Theodore Nott Sr... she would have no trouble with him.

Vivian had often speculated that if she had been one of those people who were predisposed to enjoying blood and guts, and without Theo's influence over the years, she might have become like one of those serial killers the that muggles had. They always said the same things about them; cold, unfeeling, without remorse... well, that was her, wasn't it? Or at least a part of her. But it seemed she had taken a very different road. She wouldn't kill for pleasure. But she would for a friend.

She dragged herself out of that dark corner of her mind to focus once again on Rabastan Lestrange. It wasn't often she let herself dwell on what she might be capable of. She especially didn't talk about it around Theo; instinctively she knew, he wouldn't be comfortable with it. But she thought Lestrange might understand that part of her better than Theo did. He had been a Death Eater, sent to Azkaban for torturing those people. He understood what it was like to be capable of those things.

Rabastan made it clear that he meant no harm to Theo, and Vivian heard the emotion in his voice as he spoke of him. That was good.

And then he asked about John Woods. Vivian drained her glass. This was it, then. Clearly Theo had told him nothing. She had mixed feelings about that; on the one hand, if Theo had told him about her step dad, she wouldn't have to now. On the other, it would have meant that Theo had betrayed her trust. She liked it better this way, although only marginally.

Vivian leaned forward again, her arms folded, resting on the table. It made her feel more secure to be in an offensive position, but she knew she wasn't fooling Rabastan. When he looked in her eyes, he'd see it all...

"My step-father..." she paused, wondering how to phrase it. When she had arrived back at Hogwarts a few weeks ago she had used a very blunt phrase when talking to Theo; 'did they rape and beat me?' But she didn't have the stomach for that now. She looked into the eyes of a man who disliked and distrusted her so deeply, and suddenly felt sick that she was going to share this with him. But she had to, for the sake of her friendship with Theo. She didn't know what Rabastan would do if he decided he didn't trust her, but she didn't want to find out.

"He liked me," she continued, finally, very quietly, "he liked me a lot. And he liked to spend a lot of time with me. Alone. He was very... affectionate," she said the last word with a slight sneer, although she felt as though she might vomit.

Through it all, she didn't drop his gaze. She knew her eyes would be filled with years of hurt, but it was important to her. If he wanted her to expose herself to him like this, fine. But he would watch her as she did so.

"Is that enough? Or do you want to hear more?" He hadn't asked about her mother directly, and maybe he thought a part Veela girl wasn't all that important, but she had started now, and he might ask later, when she may not have the strength to keep going. Somehow she had found something inside herself that let her talk about this to a complete stranger; she had to capitalise on it, while it lasted.
"My mother didn't like it. She was jealous," the word almost stuck in her throat. "She hit me, punished me, for being bad. To her, I was filthy. She hit me 'till I was ugly."

She looked at Rabastan Lestrange, and knew that this man had seen a part of her only one other person- his son- had seen before. She felt naked under his gaze. Vulnerable. Exposed. She felt ageless, both a young girl of eighteen, and aged beyond her years. Because she thought that this man, who had lived so much longer and seen so much, would understand. He would understand what it was like to spend the night-time trapped in nightmares. What it was like when it seemed like the painful, trapped feeling would never end. If the abuse had happened once or twice, it would have been bearable. But it had gone on for years, an endless cycle. Long enough for it to feel, at her young age, like a lifetime. And when she had come out of it she was an entirely different person.

Vivian hoped that what she had told him had been enough. She hoped that now she could get back onto the subject at hand; Theo, and her relationship with him. Whether or not she was trustworthy. That would be a walk in the park, compared to talking about her parents.

"When I took the blame for that letter, I had to ask him for help," she said, her voice bitter and angry. "He got me off. I had to spend a week with him and my mother, while he worked on it." She hoped she was making her point crystal clear. "I'd do anything for Theo."

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

The story of Vivian and John Woods start off as normal, it began with her step-father. But then she paused, for what felt like a very long time. Rabastan took a calm sip of his firewhiskey as he waited for the girl to continue. She’d drained her glass, which meant she should have plenty of liquid courage welled up inside of her to get this all done with. The words that left Vivian’s lips, however, shocked him slightly. John Woods had raped his step-daughter. He sat back in his chair for a moment staring at her, taking another sip of his firewhiskey. One part of him was in shock and awe, and another part of him was filled with anger and disgust. How could any parent do that to their child? The one person they were always supposed to put before themselves? He looked at the table for a moment, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t the type to apologize for things he’d not done. Truth be told, he wasn’t really the type to apologize at all. So he remained silent, taking yet another sip of his drink, and Vivian continued, this time about her mother. That news had been even more flabbergasting than the first bit. He couldn’t imagine Cecelia ever doing that to anyone, let alone her own daughter. A deep pit of disgust opened his stomach, and he only disliked that piece of shit John Woods even more. But still he remained quiet, staring at her, studying her.

She had had a hard childhood, there was no doubt about that. But did her past make her trusthworthy? He hardly thought so. Yes, she’d had a tough childhood. And yes, she hated her parents probably more than Rabastan himself did. But did that make her trustworthy? All signs pointed to no. In his heart he began to worry slightly, if she wasn’t trustworthy than he would have to erase her memory. Despite the fact that he knew it was a cautionary measure, he knew Theo wouldn’t like it; Theo trusted Vivian.

Rabastan’s eyes found Vivian’s once more and they were filled with emotion, unlike anything he’d seen there before. Before he’d seen nothing. Most people would probably think her eyes were scary, or frightening. But Rabastan recognized a small part of himself in those lifeless eyes. He sympathized partially with the girl. He knew what it was like to spend years and years and years in a place you hated and couldn’t escape from. They both held mental scars that were uglier than either of them ever showed. He knew her mental, emotional scars were probably very painful. But as she spoke of Theo there was an emotion in her voice that wasn’t there, either.

”I’ do anything for Theo.”

He stared at her after her story, watching, silent. He turned the story over and over again in his mind. She had dealt with her parents, who were likely her boggart form if he had to guess, for Theo? He blinked several times, taking a slow sip of his firewhiskey. The story of her parents explained so much about her. Why she was the way she was, so detached and uncaring. But… she seemed almost protective over Theo, which was a quality that Rabastan could tolerate. And if she were willing to put up with her boggart, and her inner demons for Theo… Well then maybe he could trust her.

”I believe you,” Rabastan began simply. He believed her story of her parents, but more importantly he believed her when she said she would do anything for Theo. But just because he decided that he might be able to trust her, that they might be able to confide this secret in her… Well that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get some assurance out of it. ”But I want you to know… If you ever hurt my son, in any way, or betray his trust, and somehow get him in trouble, you will pay for it with your life, Ms. Blackwell. Do you understand?”

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Rabastan said he believed her, and that was a relief, but also rubbed Vivian the wrong way. If he believed her then she wouldn't have to repeat herself. She wouldn't have to go into more detail. She wouldn't, in short, have to make him believe her. But did he really think she would lie about that? That she would make that story up? It had just about killed her to tell him all that in the first place.

Vivian sat back in her chair, finally able to relax a little bit. She caught the bar man's eye, and signalled for him to bring her another Firewhiskey. Merlin knew, she needed it. Thank god for being over seventeen.

”But I want you to know… If you ever hurt my son, in any way, or betray his trust, and somehow get him in trouble, you will pay for it with your life, Ms. Blackwell. Do you understand?”

Vivian looked Rabastan straight in the eye as he spoke. She kept eye contact with him as the bar man brought over her drink, waiting for him to leave until she spoke.
"Would you kill me?"

That was an... interesting thought. She looked at Rabastan, tall, strong, unyielding. He could kill her. She knew it, and so did he. But would he kill her? Vivian wondered if he had ever killed anyone before. Not in the heat of battle, but deliberately. She wondered if Rabastan Lestrange would kill her, and watch the life leave her eyes. She didn't ask as though hoping there would be some other option, and she knew that was evident in her voice.

"If I betray Theo," she said, still dwelling on her question. "You can have my life." Her life wasn't precious to her. Hadn't she contemplated her own death already? Theo was all she had, her friend, her family, her support, everything. Without him she'd be a shell. Her life was nothing without him. A meaningless, emotionless void. Rabastan could have it. "But I want you to know, Mr. Lestrange," she said, following his speaking pattern, "that it goes both ways." If Rabastan left Theo again, if he hurt him, if he betrayed him, then it would be Rabastan who she heard scream.

Now that that was out of the way, Vivian's thoughts went back to her earlier question. She leaned forward again, this time closer than she had done any other time.
"Would you kill me, Rabastan?" she asked, quietly. She was testing him. She wanted to see his reaction to looking her in the eyes, and saying that he would take her life. She wanted to see what he was made of. She wanted to know more about him.

Vivian wondered if she could toy with Rabastan Lestrange, if he would want her like so many other men did. Could she flirt with him, tease him, or would be be impervious to it all? Most men she could play with, like a puppet on a string. It was so easy. She looked into his black eyes, and found herself wanting to test him some more. For better or worse, his reaction would be interesting. And it would be so easy. But she didn't; something about his eyes told her that Rabastan Lestrange was not a man to be played with. She found that, despite herself, she respected him for it.

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

At first Vivian’s question startled him, though he didn’t allow it to show through visibly on his face. Why did she want to know? He stared at her, unamused. The answer came into his head immediately, and he thought by now she’d know the answer, too. But he stayed silent and she began speaking again. She said if she ever betrayed Theo then he could have her life. How noble of her. He was sure he was supposed to be somehow impressed by her statement. Somehow he was supposed to find the statement endearing, but it told Rabastan that she didn’t value her life, and that didn’t sit well with him. Being someone who’d almost lost his life and his sanity within the walls of Azkaban there was a part of him that was grateful for every single day he spent free. She didn’t value her life, but it wasn’t his place to teach her otherwise.

And then said that that threat worked both ways, and a smirk flitted across his lips. She thought she could harm him. She didn’t even begin to know who she was speaking to, did she? Not in the slightest. It amused him to no end, but once again he said nothing as he stared at her, and this time when she leaned in she leaned in closer than the other few times, repeating her question. Would he kill her? He quirked a brow only partially toward her. What was she playing at? This time she’d used his first name, and the tone of her voice was somehow different. She was toying with him, pushing him, playing with him. He smirked at her.

”Without a second thought, Vivian,” he replied, his voice coming out dangerously low as he looked her directly into her voided eyes. He could see the intent in her eyes, and he smirked. ”Do you think you have the ability to kill me?”

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Rabastan smirked as Vivian threatened him. He didn't think she could put actions behind her words. That was fine. He didn't have to believe her.

Vivian wasn't delusional. She knew she wasn't an exceptional dueller. She knew that she wasn't physically strong, not like Rabastan Lestrange was. But she also knew the power of not caring. Having nothing to lose made you dangerous. She was dangerous. She could take a hit. She could take several. In the end, she would get what she wanted.

He said he would kill her without a second thought. For some reason, Vivian felt a slight smile creep onto her face. There was just something so carnal about it. The fact that this man would reach inside her and rip out her life. He had already had her expose the darkest parts of herself to him, and now he was painting a picture of how he would be intrinsic in the most personal moment of her life; the moment of her death.
"Do me a favour," she said, quietly, still leaning towards him, "if it comes to it. No magic. You do it, yourself. The last thing I ever feel... I want to feel it." She didn't want it to be quick and easy, like she blinked and vanished. She wanted there to be something.

Then he asked her another question. Would she kill him?

That was another interesting one. If it came to it, if something happened where killing the man in front of her wouldn't hurt Theo, if he deserved it, if she had her opportunity... would she take his life? He sat before her now, so vital and alive, hot blood rushing through his veins, a strong, bloody heart that had been pumping every second since the moment of his birth without fail. Even sat here in this dark, dank pub, it was like she could feel every one of his nerves attuned to the fact that he was free. He was more alive than almost anyone she had ever met. It made her see why Theo felt that she should choose life, and feeling, no matter what. Would she put an end to it all? Would she stop his heart from pumping, let his blood lie stagnant in his veins?

'Yes,' she thought, 'for Theo.'

"Who said anything about killing you?" she said, smiling. Vivian took another drink of her Firewhiskey.

Still, she didn't sit back in her chair. She was fascinated by the man in front of her. So like Theo, and yet so wholly different. He sat here and spoke of killing her, where as Theo, she knew, would be devastated at her death.

"When you look at me, what do you see?" Vivian asked him, her voice still low. She wondered. She was very curious. Did he see beauty, and not past that, like so many people? Did he think her vacant? How much like his son was he? Theo had seen past both those things...

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

A sadistic side of Vivian began to show as she spoke of him murdering her, and there was a part of him that became excited at the thought. Not necessarily the thought of killing her specifically, but the thought of taking a life in general. He'd taken lives before, but he could hear the longing in her voice. She wanted her death to be slow, painful. For a brief second he thought of Bellatrix Lestrange, his late sister-in-law, and her torture of the Longbottoms. He'd been disgusted at the time, and from time to time he still was. Those people deserved to be put out of their misery at least. But Bella had been a twisted, sick soul, and while Rodolphus mourned her death, Rabastan had not.

He thought about killing Vivian with his own hands, without a wand. The longing in her voice was almost attractive, almost alluring, like the thought of her death excited the young girl. He looked at her and quirked a brow, deciding that, if he were to ever murder her for one reason or another, he would give her the honor of choosing how she died.

"If that's the way you wan to go, who am I to deny you your dying wish," he said as he took another sip of his firewhiskey. his dark eyes never leaving hers. Two could play at this little game, whatever it was. Perhaps they were both sick and twisted in their own specific way. Well, there was no maybe about that was there. Vivian's next words caught him by surprise. So she wouldn't kill him? He smirked, wondering what kind of girl he was dealing with now.

"Then what would you do to me? If not death? Please, enlighten me," he questioned, another brow quirked as he took a sip of his firewhiskey. The glass was empty now and he waved the bartender back over, he carried a new one in hand. Rabastan took a sip of his fresh drink before setting it on the table and listening to Vivian's question. What did he see when he looked at her? A young, flirtatious Veela, a good friend to her son, a possible threat to her son. He saw a lot of things, but part of him wondered what she was getting at? Was there a right or wrong answer to this question? Probably not. Even if there was, Rabastan wouldn't care one way or the other if he'd gotten it wrong.

"I see a young woman who thinks she's intimidating," he smirked slightly as he took another sip of firewhiskey. "I see a girl that doesn't value her life, I see someone who begs for death, though not outwardly. I know because I see a bit of myself in you," he replied honestly. He knew what it was like to imagine your own death and smile at the thought. It the darkest of his times in Azkaban he imagined all the sick and twisted ways he could die, all the ways he could leave this earth without a trace. But now... now he knew what freedom felt like, he knew the breath of fresh air and a night when there were no real screams. The screams were only in his head, and on occasion he could silence them.

"And what do you see when you look at me?" he asked, generally curious about her answer. What did she see when she looked at him? A murderer? A Death Eater? A father? He was all of these things and infinitely more.

[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

"Thank you," Vivian said, quietly. If she had to die, she wanted it her way. If he had to take her life, that was the best gift she could receive.

She saw excitement in his eyes as she spoke of her own death, and understood completely. Death had a way of making you feel so alive. Perhaps we were at our most alive when we were dying. When we were reduced down to blood and bone and flesh, when you could feel your heart pounding and knew that what had once seemed like an infinite number of beats had suddenly become very finite. Vivian thought that at the moment of her death, she would be able to completely let go, and feel it all. Because there would be no tomorrow. There would be nothing left to deal with, no consequences. She could feel it all and then it would be gone. Maybe that was why she was so enamoured with death.

"Then what would you do to me? If not death? Please, enlighten me,"

Vivian took another sip of Firewhiskey, smiling slightly, mulling that question over. What would she do with Rabastan Lestrange? That was an interesting thought, to say the least. One with endless possibilities.
"I haven't decided yet," she said, with a slight smile, her eyes still locked on his. This little game they were playing drew her in. She wondered what had been on his mind when he had posed that question. What had he thought her answer might be?

He answered her question, and Vivian listened, weighing every word.
"I don't expect I intimidate you," Vivian said, in reply to his first observation. "But not everyone is you." She was grateful that Rabastan Lestrange wasn't intimidated by her. Not that she had ever expected him to be. But she couldn't hold a conversation with someone who was. She could never be interested in them.

He saw that she didn't value her life. That she begged for death. Perhaps that was true. She didn't value her life. Not in itself. What was life, when all the rest was gone? She wouldn't hold her life as prized above all else. There were things she would give her life for. His choice of words interested her; she begged for death. Vivian thought that he'd like her to beg him for death. But she wondered how he'd feel when she was gone, and he was left with her corpse.

Rabastan's last revelation was the most intriguing. 'I know because I see a bit of myself in you...' Hadn't she thought the same thing?

He posed her own question back to her, and she paused, taking another drink of Firewhiskey as she considered him. When she looked at him she saw a strong, dark man. But she saw so much more than that.

"I see a man who wants to possess me at the most vulnerable moment of my life," she said. The look in his eyes when he talked of killing her was endlessly fascinating. It was like he wanted to rip down every defence she had, like he'd rip out her guts and examine them if he could, look to see what was written on the inside of her heart.

"And I see someone who knows what its like to be locked in nightmares," she added, her voice still low, still leaning towards him, one arm resting on the table, the other with her hand wrapped around her drink. "What do you dream about, Rabastan?" She had told him things she'd only told one other person; she felt like he owed her this.

[RABASTAN RORICK LESTRANGE]

He waited for Vivian's answer to his question. If she'd not planned death for him for the betrayal than what did she have in mind as a punishment? Though somehow Rabastan thought that there was a much deeper, different conversation going on underneath it all. And from the smirk on Vivian's face she thought so too. She said she hadn't decided what to do with him yet and there was a part of him that was excited by the prospect. Oh yes, this was a very different conversation indeed. But he said nothing, knowing she knew precisely what had happened with this conversation. She said she didn't expect to intimidate him, but that most people weren't him. He smirked slightly. That was a truer statement than any he'd heard all night. Most people weren't him. He was glad that she hadn't expected to intimidate him, though she didn't deny trying. He knew what that little elbow move had been at the beginning of their meeting. But now... now her arms were in a different position and Rabastan had hardly noticed, and soon enough she was answering his question. What did she see when he saw him.

A man who wanted to possess her in her most vulnerable moment of life.

The language was tantalizing, dripping with context and the sound of it filled Rabastan with a primal desire he'd not felt for quite some time. His blood ran hot and his eyes narrowed at the girl. He could snap her like a twig if he wanted. It would be simple, and quick. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to it to be slow, painful, for him to take his time. Was death really the most vulnerable moment of life? Perhaps so, but it was the word possess that teased him most. To have him be the one to kill her, the one to have her hands around her neck, choking, watching as she gasped for air, watching as her face drained of color. Possessing her life. Possessing her death. He smirked at her, and for the first time that evening he was at a loss for words. What could he say to something so profound, accurate, teasing? It was like she reached down and tugged at the nerves in every vein in his body, and he was a murderer reborn again. She'd tugged at the very core of his nature, and what drove him most - murder, revenge. That was what he wanted most in this world, to kill. But not her, no... Nott Sr. was the blood his hands lusted for.

"Ah, but you act as if you're not excited by the idea of having that moment possessed. You can read it in your eyes, Vivian, and I've no doubt it's written all over your soul," he said quietly, taking a sip of his firewhiskey before her observations continued. This one was also profound, and for a moment he felt slightly sick. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a nightmare, far more than most people would ever want to find out. He knew what it was like to want to end your life simply so you wouldn't have to dream again, so you wouldn't have to relive the worst moments of your life over and over again.

"What do you dream about, Rabastan?"

The question caused his blood to run hot once more. The way she said his name, the personalization of it all. She wanted him to bear his soul to her, she wanted him stripped down to the very core of who he was. And if she was really that interested in getting to know the monster within, he would have to oblige her request.

"I dream about screaming. Endless screaming that is so loud, so painful, so full with begging for death you wish whoever was inflicting such torture to put the victim out of its misery. And then you find out the screams are yours. And then your screams are joined by countless others, begging for an escape, begging for freedom, begging for death," he began before taking a sip of his firewhiskey. If she wanted everything, she would have everything. And if she betrayed him... she knew the consequences. "I dream of death, and murder. My own death, sometimes the death of others... Cecelia, Theo's mum. Murder of Sr. Nott. That's what I dream of most. Revenge on the bastard who tried to take everything from me. He will pay for his sins, one by one, and he will suffer dearly. I dream about enclosed spaces. Tight, dark corners that you can't escape."

He stared at her for a moment, a twisted smile forming on his face. No one had ever asked him anything about Azkaban, no matter how indirectly in may have been, and he'd never shared anything like that with another living soul, mostly because those who had been closest to him had been shoved in Azkaban with him. There was nothing to tell. But there was an undeniable desire in Vivian's eyes as she asked about his dreams, and so he was curious as to what she dreamed of.

"What haunts you when you close your eyes, Vivian? What kind of horrors do you have weighing on your soul? They drag your eyelids shut and trap you there with no hopes of escaping, no hope of ending the torture," he said, taking another sip of his firewhiskey, his eyes boring into hers.

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[VIVIAN HOPE BLACKWELL]

Rabastan said he could see in her eyes, her excitement at the thought of him possessing her at that crucial moment. Maybe that was true... she thought it probably was. She felt heat prickle over her body at the thought. They seemed to reach right to the core of each other, effortlessly.

Vivian took another sip of Firewhiskey, barely noticing the burning sensation. She already felt like she was on fire. She was definitely intoxicated, but not thanks to the alcohol. She let her glass rest back on the table, and trailed her finger around the rim. It was smooth and cool, like she usually was. Usually Vivian could be likened to ice; right now she felt all fire. She felt as though she could melt the glass with her touch. Perhaps the Firewhiskey was living up to its name... but she didn't think so.

Her eyes met his again as he reacted to her question, and she saw in them what she had been feeling all evening; the feeling of being exposed. She wanted to have what she had given him.

When he spoke of his dreams he spoke of torture, of screams and of begging for death. She listened, entranced, as he bared his soul for her to see. His dreams were different from hers, and yet so much the same. As though they came from the same place. Somewhere dark and hopeless. Somewhere she knew too well. He spoke of closed in spaces, of no escape, and she could picture it all. She could see him there, and she could see his fear. And he spoke of murder, of killing Nott, and for a moment Vivian felt an intense desire to be there when he did. For she knew that he would, eventually. There was no question in her mind. He would kill Theodore Nott Sr., and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to see him killing.

All the while, his eyes were on hers. She could tell he expected her to be shocked, or maybe find it all too much, but she was enthralled. To hear parts of her own mind explored in his deep, steady voice, was mesmerising. Rabastan asked to hear her dreams, and she had no misgivings about sharing every one with him.

"My dreams feel endless," she said, "like they never began and they'll never end. I dream of hands, of people laying hands on me, and I don't want them." She paused for a moment, and looked away from Rabastan to look around the pub. It was starting to empty now, but there were still several rough looking men, drunk on Firewhiskey and eyeing Vivian covetously. "They all want me," she said. She didn't sound proud, or arrogant, or pleased. She sounded violated.

"I dream of pain, deep inside," she continued, her eyes back on Rabastan's. "Like I'm being ripped apart. I dream of blood. I dream that I'm a child, and I'm running, with no where to go." She watched him closely as she finished, and took another sip of Firewhiskey to ward away the chill that remembering her dreams brought. She'd live them all again, soon enough. For a moment she wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the heat of his skin on her fingertips, the strength of his pulse. She wanted to feel something real.