In Hogsmeade...
Changing the subject? Pucey didn't look entirely too happy at the mentioning of his family. Good to know.
'My estate is at the north-west of here, so I am used to Scotland,' Rodolphus informed. 'English castles are not... adequate.' Rodolphus thought of Malfoy Manor, of the comfortable elegance that suited the Malfoys so well. His own property was older, more rough and unpolished. A young Norman magician sent away by the king, more than a millenium ago, as not to bother the Muggles with his unfortunate abilities. Scotland had once been exile for the Lestranges, and seemed to be so again, just in a more comfortable way.
'I haven't been outside,' Rodolphus explained. 'Only at nighttime. It is a change to be forced to live here. I am not... ready to... socialise with the-' Rodolphus jerked, a haunted expression in his eyes, before he got a grip and took the teapot. He poured, his hand steady. Only when he put it down, his hand shook.
'Anything but Azkaban, Auror Pucey. Don't think I am not- not-' Rodolphus looked to the left. Was that a mouse? A rat? Grey shadows... He breathed in deep. 'I am grateful for what little I have here. Azkaban does teach one to prioritise,' he said, with a wry smile. 'I'd rather be imprisoned here.'
Rodolphus took his cup and sipped the hot tea. He didn't think Mr Pucey appreciated the luxury it was to have a steaming cup of the best Earl Grey at hand when he wished it. Or to be able to sit in a comfortable sofa with his legs up, reading a book, nibbling at fresh fruit or a delicious, freshly baked roll.