Who: Fabian Prewett and Rabastan Lestrange What: Two snakes eat sushi When: Evening of 21 March, following Rabbit's interview with Alice Where: Sushi restaurant in Muggle London Warnings: Mild language, mild references to violence and murder, mildly obscene consumption of Japanese food...
Fabian had told Rabbit to dress Muggle-sharp and met him at their usual rendezvous point for Muggle outings. They'd ventured into Muggle London and Fabian had led them to an unassuming-looking and very small bar, which proved to have excellent liquor (European and Japanese). Some time later, after they'd imbibed enough to relax, they and the handful of other diners were led into the back, where they were seated at a counter behind which the chef was working.
There was no menu. "Omokase," Fabian explained. "He'll just feed us the best of whatever they have. Don't even need chopsticks for most of it; just pick it up off the plate and pop it in your mouth." There were warm damp towels to clean their hands and then the chef began to prepare their dinner.
It seemed somehow entirely fitting that Fabian could find a way to make even dinner an adventure. Rabbit considered, not for the first time, that this might not be a good idea--any of it, the saké, coming along at all. He should probably be catching up with Rodolphus, making sure they were all squared away over the business with Auror Travers. But… well, he liked saké. So he smiled, sidelong and not really that sharp, at Fabian as he said, "That's lot of trust to place in a random stranger."
"He's making it right in front of you," Fabian pointed out as the chef sliced off several pieces of fish from a handsome-looking fish and began to place it on the nigiri rice, "from a common source, and anyway you're only going to get a few bites of any single thing. So it's like life: a banquet to be savoured because we might not pass this way again."
"Good grief." Rabbit's grin was barely short of laughter, and if there was more delight than mockery to his mirth... well, there was no one but them here to see it. "Dramatic and philosophical. Did you practice that one beforehand?"
They were interrupted before Fabian could answer by the presentation of the first round of fish and rice. Even Rabbit, self-professed though enthusiastic benighted heathen, had to admit it looked good.
"Clearly you inspire me to philosophical heights," Fabian told Rabbit, deadpan. "Or maybe that's just the elaborate version of 'life is short, eat the sweet first'." At which point Fabian was presented with his own piece of nigiri, something pale and lovely that had been brushed with some kind of sauce and garnished with greenery. Unlike Rabbit, he didn't stop to admire it, merely snatched it up and put it straight in his mouth, to make little noises of pleasure and delight that indicated how tasty he found the morsel.
Rabbit nearly fumbled his own tidbit, but managed to get it in his mouth. And yes, wow, it was good, both sharp and delicate. But that didn't stop him lifting an eyebrow at Fabian and saying, round his mouthful and a smirk, "You need a moment alone here?"
"No," said Fabian, "too late. Already died and gone wherever I'm meant to go afterwards."
"Oh good," Rabbit noted, licking a stray smear of sauce off his thumb. "More for me."
Fabian picked up the wooden chopsticks that had been set delicately on their rest and heretofore left unused to make to stab Rabbit's hand with them. "I'll come back and haunt you."
Rabbit twitched his hand away, jostling at Fabian's arm; briefly regressing to schoolboys scuffling while the professor's back was turned. "I should be so lucky," he said, light and laughing.
The chef said something to Fabian in Japanese that ended with an interrogative lift, and Fabian responded in the same language. Apparently sushi chefs were more attentive than some of Hogwarts' professors. Also he apparently found whatever Fabian had said amusing, because he laughed and nodded to Rabbit. "I just explained that you were planning to steal my food," Fabian said with a straight face, as if that had come out of nowhere. "I think he's pleased we think it's worth fighting over."
"It's fantastic." Rabbit didn't speak Japanese, not even as much as Fabian, but he gave the chef a nod and a smile in return, and figured a sincere compliment--yes, he did know how to give one--needed little translation.
"I don't know about best in the city," he added, sidelong and grinning at Fabian and back to normal. "Might need more convincing."
"There's more coming," Fabian pointed out, and sure enough there was another piece, tender and sweet and pale, with the slightest tang of vinegar to the rice, arriving before them. The morsel before Fabian again vanished with extreme speed, before Rabbit could even consider pretending to take it, and was followed by more of those happy noises.
"Bloody hell," Rabbit muttered, taking refuge in laughter--at Fabian, mostly, and at himself--and his own little bite of deliciousness. It really was good; Rabbit almost wished he could give it closer attention. (Almost wished he could give it less, but he had years of experience in recognising bad ideas, and watching Fabian as closely as he wanted to right now was a doozy.)
Fabian gave Rabbit side-eye that was more amused than offended or indignant. It took him longer than Rabbit might have expected to actually say anything. "Get off," he told Rabbit, totally unfussed. "You enjoy it. The mockery more than the food, even."
For all that Rabbit couldn't manage a change of subject, Fabian could, with ease. "So how are things at home now? Easier, I hope."
Rabbit shrugged. "I don't have quite the same concern I'm going to be cut off when I wake up of a weekend morning with a monstrous hangover and fuzzy recall." He reached for his drink, but just nursed it as he turned over the afternoon's interview in his mind, eventually saying, "Though the relative tranquility of the Estate might suffer if the DMLE starts asking my mother if she thinks I might have killed Dad."
Fabian's brow furrowed and somehow he managed to combine this with an eyebrow rising in distressed sympathy. "What's going on over there? Are the Aurors harassing you? I mean really, if you were going to whack the old man, you'd've done it years ago and nobody ever would have known it was you. You're cleverer than that."
"Maybe I won't use you as a character witness," Rabbit said, but he was grinning. "They're just prodding around. Belatedly. Guess they've been busy." A wry twist to his mouth as he finally took a sip and set his drink down again. "You can imagine my reaction when she asked if there was anyone who might want to harm me or my family."
Fabian snorted his amusement. "For everything he's done to you, I could probably be a suspect," he agreed with a roll of his eyes. He paused before he could add more to consume his third piece of nigiri, complete with enjoyment, and waited until he was done with it to stick out his tongue at Rabbit.
Rabbit lifted his eyebrows, and ate his own, with more moderate relish.
Fabian stuck out his tongue again, because he could. "Glad it's over anyroad. I suspect there's going to be another round of hauling people in because they can. It's harassment but it's legal. They train you on exactly how far you can take it when they haven't got any evidence, which is: not so far as to put you in holding unless you're an arse and uncooperative, but far enough to make you very unhappy." Fabian didn't usually talk about his time in the Aurors; he must be quite annoyed about the whole thing.
Rabbit noted all that with interest, though all he said was, "I, of course, am never an arse or uncooperative, so I clearly have nothing to fear from the law." His smirk curled, and he added, "Especially given my manifest innocence."
"Are you kidding me?" Fabian unsuccessfully attempted to keep from snickering. "You look guilty to anyone who knows you even when you're provably innocent. Unlike me, who looks innocent even on those rare occasions when I'm actually guilty of something."
Rabbit laughed, not at all innocent and fairly pleased with the fact. He didn't dispute the charges, but did repeat, "Rare," slow and amused, like he was considering whether the definition had changed.
"Rare," Fabian agreed, and took up his next piece of fish as it appeared in front of him.
Rabbit made a show of propping against the counter to watch the show of Fabian enjoying his food, before smirking and reaching for his own. "And you?" he asked. "How are you doing in this new dawn after the night of terror?" He couldn't remember quite how the editorial in the Prophet had gushed, the morning after the Dark Lord fell, but it had been something like that.
"Busy. Lots of people changing estate wards and updating testamentary bindings. But it's that way after every major event, so not so different in some ways. Listening to all the gossip about who's a secret vigilante, which would be a surprisingly interesting set if half the allegations bandied about are true. Not that I believe any of the whispers. There's no way the Minister's a Death Eater." Fabian rolled his eyes dismissively. "Nor is Crouch Sr an antipurist vigilante. If he wants to squeeze something out of a Death Eater, he does it under colour of law."
Rabbit chuckled; he'd heard plenty of those rumours as well--the Ministry canteen was rife with them--and probably started a few. (There was precious little else to do in the dead hours of night shift other than talk shit.) "Well, it's all just idle speculation now, innit?"
"Let's hope so," Fabian said. "If you want me to speculate from what they taught me, I could do that, I suppose, but I'm hardly an informed observer. The Auror Office and I don't have much use for each other any longer." He made a face at their very name.
"I should think that with the kings knocked off, the pawns will quietly sidle away from the board." Rabbit considered Fabian with a slow smile, like an invitation to misbehaviour as he added, "But go on, speculate for me."
"Well, here's the thing. Sure, a lot of them are doing exactly what you said, people crawling back under their rocks and thanking their gods that they weren't caught offside, or worse." Fabian took a sip of his sake and pondered the next bit, and how to say it. "The thing is, though, even if you buy all the liberal propaganda about 'the antipurist vigilantes are only in it because of the Death Eaters blah blah blah', which I'm not saying I do, you know as well as I do that there are people who'd teach the pair of us a lesson or three for crossing the line and eating this delicious dinner. We're a disgrace to our blood. And maybe all those people died at Godric's Hollow or something, but if they didn't--where are they? What are they doing?
"Because if it's looking for well-bred fellows getting out of line by enjoying the wrong culture, I'd rather not be made an example of. Either one of us." Fabian raised the sake to Rabbit to ward off that fate.
Rabbit clinked cups, took a sip. "Wouldn't be nearly as much fun if someone didn't hate me doing it," he noted, as though it were that simple--as though he were that simple. But it was less easy to be truly flippant about it when that last Death Eater meeting still scratched at him. Mulciber and Avery, their smug fucking talk of duty, their petty tyranny, their damn glee with it. Like they'd earned loyalty, like Rabbit would just do as he was told.
But Rabbit's patience could match his curiosity, when necessary. They had something afoot, his Dad's old mates. And Rodolphus had something afoot. And perhaps Fabian too, though Rabbit didn't know what.
Yet.
"They can hate me all they want as long as they don't excruciate me. I'd like my fingers to be working so I can give them the proper salute." Which Fabian omitted in favour of another sip of sake, and then another piece of nigiri.
Rabbit watched him a moment longer, consideringly, and then reached for his own fish. This one cut sharp and crisp across the aftertaste of the sake, getting a little noise of delicious surprise out of Rabbit.
Fabian turned an incandescently pleased grin on Rabbit. "See? I knew you'd come round."