Rabastan is counting down the days... (imperiofury) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-07-05 16:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/07 july, florence rosier, rabastan lestrange |
05 July 1980
Who: Rabastan Lestrange & Florence Rosier
What: Date - Rabbit's choice
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Wiltshire restaurant
Rating: PG
Status: Completed!
Dressed in a neat black suit that looked rather dashing if his Mum’s word was any indication, Rabastan found himself in a spiffingly chipper mood. He had been waiting for this night all week since Florence had consented to accompany him on a date. They would be eating at that fashionable new restaurant in Wiltshire. He had been there once and had thought the service exquisite and the food delicious even if the price was rather steep. As Festus Lestrange’s younger son, no restaurant was out of Rabastan's price range. Grinning to himself, he reflected on how much he adored being one of the most eligible bachelors in England.
With everything in place and the reservations confirmed for the third time in as many days, Rabastan nervously apparated to the Rosier mansion. He easily passed through the wards and strode confidently to the door. This was no time to show fear. Dolph had verified his initial impressions of Oren Rosier - the man was a menace. Rosier looked like he had eaten every suitor of his only daughter for a mere appetizer.
Rabastan quietly took a deep breath and made three short raps on the door. He hoped they had heard the noise because his mother had once instructed him on how poor his manners would look if he had to knock a second time. As he pondered whether to knock again, a house elf opened the door and ushered him inside to wait in the parlor.
Florence had no problem making Rabastan wait for a while. She had slipped into a fine green dress that was perfectly modest, but fitted enough to be flattering, and had a house elf put her hair in a tasteful updo. She was deliberating between a pair of heels or classic ballet flats when another house elf came upstairs to inform her that her date was waiting in the parlor. Slipping into the flats, she looked in the mirror one last time, making sure every hair was in place. She wondered, as she descended the stairs, what sort of surprise Rabastan would have for her.
Stepping into the parlor, Florence dropped into a quick curtsy. Rising, she smiled coyly. "You can relax. Father's not at home." Honestly, she was slightly disappointed. Her father was an intimidating figure, especially for the men who had taken an interest in her. There was a part of her that loved to see them squirm, knowing how little her father actually knew of what she did with men. He thought he was protecting her virtue, and she loved him for it, but nothing he said could dissuade her from doing whatever she pleased.
The parlor seemed quite tasteful colour-wise and he decided to stand while he waited. Of all the inner circle families, the only home where he ever could have of made himself comfortable aside from Lestrange Manor was his Uncle Roman's place and Augustus's home. Some of the families were too strict and the last thing he wanted was Mr. Rosier judging him for his chair selection. Hearing soft footsteps on the stairs, he glanced up from a picture of some Rosier cousins that he had found on top of the family's wireless. As he placed the photo down on the wood, he spotted Florence at the entry of the parlor.
Elation filled his mind as he heard her mention that Mr. Rosier was not at the mansion. He hid what would have been a tell-tale smile perfectly and intoned, "Oh that's unfortunate. I have not seen him since the reception." In reality, it had been sooner than that but Florence had no idea of his Death Eater affiliation. He hoped to save that conversation for after they married in the distant future, which Rabastan had no intention of proposing for a short time yet. "You look beautiful," Rabastan bowed to her deeply and kissed her on the cheek softly. "Are you ready to take off then? I've made reservations at that delightful new restaurant in Wiltshire." He inwardly thanked his lucky stars that he had not chosen one of her father's restaurants for this date before offering her his arm to leave.
Florence smiled graciously. "Thank you," she responded to the compliment, not the slightest trace of a blush in her cheeks. She didn't need anyone to tell her that she was beautiful, but it was a nice reminder. "I am," she replied, accepting his arm. She had heard of the place, if only because she'd heard Father talking about the new challenge to his business. Not that he would mind her visiting the competition. After all, the Rosiers couldn't own every restaurant in England.
"I trust I am suitably attired?" Florence inquired. She had no doubt that her outfit would meet the restaurant's standards. The entire purpose of her question was to give Rabastan further chance to admire her under a more appropriate pretense. Not that she thought he would mind.
Quickly looking at her figure, Rabastan concluded that his intentions were not completely honorable. Best to keep those ideas to himself. "Your outfit is absolutely amazing. I bet the other blokes will be jealous of me tonight." Jokingly, he added, "I trust you will not give me cause to share their feeling."
"I sincerely doubt that any outfit you own would be unsuitable even though this restaurant does have the highest standards known to mankind." Merlin she looked great. Opening the door for her, he suggested, "We could side-along apparate if you'd like."
Florence feigned shock, nudging Rabastan playfully for his remark. She was not foolish enough to attempt any such thing. For one thing, there was a certain amount of subtlety involved in making a man jealous. For another, it wouldn't do her reputation any good to get caught making a man jealous, especially when that man was Rabastan.
She sincerely doubted that this restaurant had the highest standards known to mankind. She'd been to restaurants on the continent that required nothing but the finest formal wear. But she would not counter him for the time being. "I think that would be best," Florence remarked, stepping through the door. She had not actually been to the location, and it was only proper to side-along in such an instance.
So maybe Rabastan had been a bilt sarcastic about the restaurant, but he was delighted that Florence had given him a pass. It wasn't every day that the youngest Lestrange could claim he had dated someone as irresistable as Florence Rosier. Rabastan reflected on the situtation as he closed the door to the house and they apparated to Wiltshire. He could do much worse than her and actually had on multiple occasions. Surprisingly, he had begun to feel a spark in their relationship, one he had not felt in a very long time. Now of course, he hoped that somehow she would come to that same realization.
Arriving just outside the restaurant, Rabastan grinned at her, "Hopefully you are hungry." On his previous stop, he had left the place very full actually. Speaking to the maître d', Rabastan proudly announced, "Table for two. Lestrange." The man responded with a double take and Rabastan gave him his favorite cocky grin. As the couple was led back to their own room, Rabastan inwardly hoped that Florence would be impressed with the care he had taken to plan their date. Entering the room to see the band of musicians that Rabastan had chosen for their ability, he quickly noted that everything had been carried out just as he had requested. They would have their own personal server and chef for the evening and something else he thought to be a nice touch - a dance floor on the other side for after dinner. Pulling Florence's chair out for her, he asked her in what was a partial attempt to receive a compliment but also to break the silence, "What do you think of this place?"
Florence smiled, laughing inwardly at the host's reaction to the last name. The Lestranges might have been powerful in the political world, but she wondered how they'd react to know that she was a Rosier. After all, her name did hold power in the food industry. They wouldn't need to know that, of course, unless they did not measure up to her standards.
Her concerns in that regard vanished as they entered a private dining room, with musicians and a dance floor. She had hoped to be surprised, and Rabastan had certainly achieved that. It took a great deal of influence (or a great deal of money) to secure arrangements such as these. Florence took the offered seat, smiling over her shoulder at him. "Quite remarkable," she stated, in reference to the restaurant and to Rabastan. "I don't think I'll be disappointed."
Rabastan quietly seated himself across from Florence and grinned at her positive reaction, "Excellent." He was just pleased that all of his money sitting in Gringotts would not be wasted now that he could take Miss Rosier out to an occasional dinner. Which reminded him, he needed to invite her to the wedding. He began, "I have a request for you providing that you have not been invited to Rosalind & Augustus's wedding. The invitation I received allows me to bring a guest. Are you free the afternoon of the August 1st to accompany me? The wedding starts at 2 so what do you say I pick you up at 1 that afternoon?"
Florence smiled carefully. She was not at all close friends with Rosalind Jugson, but she had been concerned to discover that her parents were invited, but neither she nor her brother had received invitations. She should honestly have expected that Rabastan would have been on the exclusive guest list, but she no longer cared. She laughed softly, amused that he did not offer her a chance to accept before telling her precisely when he could pick her up. This would mean she'd need to buy another dress. Though, perhaps she'd not bother to look her best, just to be spiteful.
No, she would wear something new. It wouldn't do to lower her standards simply because Rosalind chose to have a small wedding. "I have no prior commitments," she responded, indicating both her lack of an invitation and her willingness to attend with Rabastan. It would be nice, to be merely a guest at a wedding. "Father will be delighted I am able to attend." All right, so Florence liked to see him squirm a little. But at least they'd be on opposite sides of the aisle. For the ceremony, at least.
Rabastan had been biting on his tongue as she contemplated her answer and then accepted his invitation. Delighted as he was to hear her accept, his left eye twitched when she mentioned Oren Rosier. Merlin only knew how much he disliked that man! He knew that if he had decided on one of Rosier's many establishments, the man would likely have been watching them from behind a column. He probably would even go so far to stand behind Rabbit in an invisibility cloak and hex him if he so much as took her hand for a mere second at the restaurant. "I have no doubt that you will look positively amazing in whatever you wear. Puts us blokes to shame really when all you society ladies arrive get dolled up. But that's good because after school ended I have avoided being the center of attention as much as possible."
Accepting a glass filled with scotch on the rocks, he gulped down too much and blinked at her to clear his mind, "So what's going on in your life at the moment?" She'd likely have attacked him if she knew how he had stupidly lost his shot at a job with the Hitwizards. He needed to clear the waters with Dolph very soon. His brother was not one that should be given too much time to solve a quarrel because he would no doubt have a creative answer unattractive to Rabbit. For that reason, Rabbit knew he'd need to go to him with hat in hand in a few days.
Florence shrugged, accepting a glass of wine. She didn't favor heavier drinks, limiting herself to wine at meals and champagne for celebrations. "Very little, sadly," she remarked. Between the gala, Madeline's bridal shower, and now Rosalind's wedding, she had a difficult time arranging her next concert. "It may be August before I have another concert." Not that her life revolved entirely around her concerts, but all she had were concerts and society functions. Well, and Rabastan, now.
"And you?" Florence inquired, talking a small drink from her glass.
Mentally running through his own shortened social calendar since he had made a point to hide his Death Eater affiliation, Rabastan replied, "Before the Gala, I have a trip to northern Scotland and the States. Some shops are closing and Uncle Aurelius is convinced we can make a killing by taking our pick of their inventory. I'll be bidding against the top negotiator of Borgin & Burkes and a few other stores more established than our own. No doubt it will be a rough week dealing with all those people on foreign soil. I am not looking forward to that trip to be perfectly honest with you." Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at his forehead.
Rabastan changed the subject again to a safer topic, "Do you have to spend quite a bit of time practicing your music or does it pretty much just flow by now?"
Florence smiled, setting down her wineglass. "It depends on the piece," she began. "The more complex, the longer it takes for me to learn. And the more often I've played it, the less time I need to practice." She didn't really want to delve into specifics, besides the fact that she was certain he wouldn't understand much of it. Like the fact that she only had to spend a fraction of the time she reserved for musical aspirations in practice.
The waiter came over then. Florence had barely looked at her menu, but she'd only needed a glance to be sure what she wanted. While the cuisine could hardly be expected to compare with what she was used to from Italy, she hoped that she would not be disappointed. "Chicken penne gorgonzola, light on the garlic," she ordered, handing the waiter her menu.
Rabastan nodded at her explanation, wondering how someone could stand to take the time to learn any musical piece for that matter. Although he realized that he was not one to talk considering how much time he pored over Dark Arts texts. So much so that it had become something of an obsession especially on those slow days at the store. When the waiter turned to him, he replied, "I will have the jalapeno garlic tilapia." Rabbit had always been very fond of seafood considering that he always picked up smoked fish on his trips in Scotland and Wales.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms and looked at Florence, "So what do you with your free time, surely music and the arts are not the only things with which you bide your time. Do you have any other hobbies of which to speak?"
Florence raised her eyebrows, taking the time to take a slow drink of wine to contemplate how to respond. This would be a trouble spot between them. Certainly, there were other things she could do. Shopping, society events, meeting friends for tea. But, honestly, when she was home, there wasn't anything she would rather do than practice her music. "None of note," she admitted. "What of your hobbies?"
Rabastan thought for a moment about how this was one of the reasons why he had felt the need to move on to other prospects after school ended. Unfortunately, none of those had actually panned out. His mind kept returning to Florence every once in a while over the years but he got his mind off that train of thought and started to think about what he enjoyed. "I love travelling around to various spots in Europe, especially historical battlefields and the like. You can find some pretty wicked artifacts if you know where to look near those sites. Most of my free time at home is spent poring over texts of spells and the like. You would be surprised what you can do with one spell assuming you know the right approach. Of course, you know about my Quidditch fascination. Lastly, I do enjoy having my mates over for a few drinks every once in a while."
He had always been very curious about her father, who Rabbit believed to be the most standoffish in the whole first generation of the Death Eaters. "Does your family invite other society families over very often?" Before picking Italy up this afternoon, it had been years since he had been to the Rosier manor for anything. He supposed at least ten to fifteen years at the least had transpired since his last visit. Personally, his family had invited a fair amount to dine assuming one hailed from a family like the Blacks or the Malfoys. And of course, Father had frequently had the original Inner Circle around the manor quite frequently back in the '60s when Rabbit had been just a boy. He was fairly certain Italy had come by his ancestral home at least once or twice as a young girl. Although he had probably been too busy practicing Quidditch to care about girls in general.
She listened patiently, though she could see that, as ever, they didn't have very much in common. Florence enjoyed Europe's history from an entirely different standpoint. She was more concerned with the classic art and architecture, as well she should be. And she was not a fan of reading. Not the study of magic or history, although she enjoyed the occasional piece covering music and its history. And she certainly did not share his passion for Quidditch.
"Father has never enjoyed hosting parties," she admitted, though this didn't bother her. She was certain she could be a gracious hostess, if she put forth the effort. "He prefers to invite only small groups to the house." Florence had met most of her father's old school friends on more than one occasion. Still, it was usually only that group, or one family at a time. They preferred to socialize in other locations. Father was not adverse to meeting friends at one of his restaurants.
"Do you?" Florence could not recall when her last visit to Rabastan's home had been, especially since he'd purchased one of his own. She was sure she'd been to his home more than once, at least.
"I have never held a party at my home actually," Rabastan realized suddenly. "I will have been there six years August 12. As soon as I graduated, I requested that Father grant me a portion of my inheritance and one of his many properties for the house, which I worked on every step of the way." In reality, Rabbit had demanded his father give him something because by no means did he want to live in the same estate with Bellatrix. His parents were not nearly as bad but almost every dinner conversation turned into them grilling him about his plans for marriage or lack thereof. It was no small miracle that he had escaped an arrangement by his father and he knew that his decision to move out had saved him from a loveless marriage. He spotted two servers heading their way with the food, "I should host a party sometime though. That would be quite delightful."
"Parties can be quite delightful," she remarked casually, spotting the servers out of the corner of her eye. Service here, it seemed, was quite remarkable. Florence carefully positioned herself out of their way as the steaming plates were set before them. It looked delicious, and she only hoped the taste compared to the presentation. "Cheers," she said, smiling as she raised her wineglass.