Florence Rosier (italyrose) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-08-06 00:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/08 august, florence rosier, rabastan lestrange |
Who: Florence and Rabastan
What: Forgiveness (Italy!style)
When: 6 August, 1980; noon
Where: Rabastan's house
Rating: PG
Status: Completed log
Florence was slightly nervous as she apparated to Rabastan's estate. She had no qualms about taking the lead in arranging activities with him. It was a way to be certain she would enjoy the time, and if a gentleman did not always take the initiative, she felt she was within her rights to help him along. But this? This was a very different circumstance. At precisely twelve o'clock, she knocked on the door.
The morning had not been nearly as busy as she'd claimed it would be, and her mother had not, in fact, been redecorating the entrance hall when she'd left home. Of course, the first sign to Rabastan that something was amiss would be the casual robes she wore open over a red print sundress. Matinee or not, this was not the sort of attire that Florence would wear to a performance. She thought of the tickets in the pocket of her robe and smiled. At least he had no idea what she had in mind. Not that he had shown, at least.
Rabastan had spent his morning in Oban, a Scottish coastal town, at a castle that dated back to the 13th century. Two elderly wizards had lived there recently and had died in some strange accident that had left the local authorities scratching their heads. But in reality, their cause of death had been their experiments with explosive devices like the Muggles' dynamite. The thought that wizards could be neutralized by Muggle things had given Rabastan pause in heading to the place. Thankfully, a band of inspectors had roamed through the place first, finding a few explosives. He had had quite a successful morning finding several objects from the original fort that predated the castle. All in all, his uncle had been quite delighted at the maces, crossbows, wands, and an invisibility cloak that Rabbit had somehow scored. That one still shocked even Rabbit a bit. He had a feeling his uncle could receive a brilliant profit off that one.
Hearing the knock at the door, he yelped from his bedroom, "Nipsy, go let Miss Rosier in, please!" Fresh out of his shower, he had his black dress pants on and had just tucked in his white dress shirt. "Bloody hell, I knew I would be pushing it." Hearing Nipsy open the door below, he called out, "I'll be right down," as he ensured that his bow tie and coat were perfect. Taking one quick look at his hair, which looked rather amazing if he could say so himself, Rabbit dashed out the door with his gold pocket watch in his hand. Descending the stairs, he looked around for Italy and not seeing her on the landing, he made his way for the parlor where he spotted her and greeted her, "Hello."
Florence followed the house elf into the parlor, smiling to herself as she heard Rabastan's voice. He seemed to be in something of a hurry, perhaps why he had originally suggested meeting half an hour later. She turned when she heard his footsteps. A coy smile her only greeting, she put a hand strategically on her hip, certain he wouldn't fail to notice that she was not dressed for a concert. "Is that what you're going to wear?" she asked plainly, as if he should have anticipated the plans she'd so carefully kept secret.
From behind her, he noticed that she had chosen to wear a casual outfit. "Did I...," he trained off as she spoke. "Was I misinformed about where we are heading?" Rabbit scratched his head in confusion, "I sincerely doubt whether you would wear that outfit to any musical gathering. It looks fine for a casual outing but I could have sworn we were attending some sort of concert." Keeping the annoyance that had crept into his mind out of his demeanor and response, he calmly stated, "Yes, this was my planned outfit unless you might inform me of a good reason to put on something less formal."
Florence stepped closer to him and spoke in a low voice. "Because I said so. Is that a good enough reason for you?" She really was enjoying this quite thoroughly, and that might possibly make up for the rest of the afternoon, if she didn't enjoy the event. Besides, she didn't want to make it too easy for him. The surprise was too delicious to waste all the energy of it while he changed.
"Go on, change. I can wait," she said, speaking at her normal volume. She sat to demonstrate her point. She trusted it wouldn't take him very long to find something else to wear and return to her.
Rabbit looked at her another moment in puzzlement and turned on his heel with such force that he could have sworn he probably left a dent in the floor. What the bloody hell was she playing at? Not only had he hurried home from the shop but he had taken a short shower and skimped on everything. He'd be damned if he let her walk over him like this in the future. Closing his door behind him in a huff, he quickly undressed and flipped through his closet for something more casual to wear. Rabbit settled on a pair of tan slacks and a neat blue shirt. He supposed that he could play her game too. Hopefully in the future, he'd have a little bit more warning than this though.
When he had completely changed, he headed back downstairs and declared somewhat annoyed, "I trust this outfit is more acceptable for your change of plans."
Florence stood, pretended to survey him for a moment, then smiled. "There was no change of plans," she informed him casually. She considered briefly whether or not to show him the tickets now. He certainly seemed annoyed, and while it was unwise to risk his temper (considering how far they'd come since that fight) it was more enjoyable for her to prolong this as much as she could. "I may have intentionally misled you about what we will be doing this afternoon." Really, she was being entirely unfair. It was delightful.
Rabbit dropped his watch on the nearest stand, "Oh that's really rich." He was pissed now but he was trying his damnedest not to swear at her about this whole bloody setup. "So what else do I need to know? Other than that you evidently lied to me about where we were going."
"I did not lie!" Florence insisted. "I said I had tickets. I never said they were for the oratorio!" She glared at him for a moment, arms folded across her chest, before she shook her head and reached inside her robes. Apparently she'd gauged his reaction wrong. She'd thought it would take a little longer for him to get upset.
"Then again, if you'd rather not go to the Falmouth game..." she trailed off, brandishing the tickets.
Rabbit sputtered at her statement and thought he might faint for a second. Florence Rosier bought Quidditch tickets? Had he died and gone to the afterlife? This was as likely as a Lestrange getting sorted Gryffindor....ok, maybe not that much but still this wasn't exactly a common thing. He opened his mouth to speak, all the blood rushing to his face, and closed it when he realized the words weren't coming. Rabbit felt like a fish out of water, "You bought tickets to Falmouth & Kenmare? How long did you plan on pulling this one on me?" He had never experienced such a wide range of emotions in under a minute. "Of course, I want to go. Falmouth has been my team since before Hogwarts."
Florence grinned broadly. It had been worth every minute delaying, watching his reaction. "I was going to keep it going until we were in our seats, but I thought you might recognize a Quidditch stadium," she teased. That would have delightful, actually, but there really was no one she could have pulled it off past arriving at the stadium. And, really, she'd rather have enjoyed his reaction all by herself. "Honestly, Bastan, I've had the tickets since you brought me home Friday night."
"Really? Wow, you're amazing, has anyone ever told you that before?" Rabbit wanted to add a few more emphatic words but he figured she wouldn't be quite that forgiving this time. He shook his head, "Ah of course they have. But you're elevating it to a new level today. This is brilliant. The match starts at one, right?" He was absolutely floored but not too much to keep him from leaning forward and kissing her. Merlin, this woman was a dream come true. Why had it taken him 6 bloody years to realize that?
Florence laughed, letting him simply ramble on until she was sure he was finished, kissing him back. It felt good, and she wondered why she'd been trying to be so proper around him all the--she cut off that train of thought. No need to spoil her fun with serious thoughts. Now it was just a matter of finding a way to actually enjoy the Quidditch match. Putting the tickets back in her pocket, she led the way to the front door. "By the way," she said, leaning her back against the door before she opened it, "you're forgiven."