Note: This insane little ficlet is based off of the Verse established in my fic A Captive Path. You don't need to have read it to get the general gist, but it does help explain the odd setting and rather Lolita-esque paring, hehe.
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Post-Apocalyptic Boredom
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There were some definite flaws in the world, that much was certain. Some were quite obvious, especially to those who didn't hold to the idea of pure blood supremacy. To them, the murder and mayhem that had produced the current society was a definite flaw. Also a flaw was the way women were now treated, in general. It was as if women's rights had been tossed back to the seventeenth century. But there were other, less obvious flaws. Things that only became obvious when Saturday night rolled around in New England, and there was absolutely nothing to do.
All the money and power in Voldemort's new world could not bring back muggle filmmakers, a decent restaurant, or a television set. At least, not in the space of a few hours they couldn't.
Thus, a muggy Saturday night in the middle of summer found two couples wondering what to do with themselves. Their children were all either asleep or being looked after by their nannies, there was no business pressing and dinner had been done with not long before. Now they were all sitting in the parlour, the women fanning themselves despite the cooling charms set all around the room.
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"Well a walk into town is out of the question," Theodore Nott finally broke the silence, looking out the window of his parlour and into the twilight, "It's far too warm..."
"And your long-suffering bride is far too pregnant," Luna finished for him, only a slight grumble in her voice. To her left on the settee, Orla Lestrange giggled,
"As is her compatriot!" She added with a bright smile, "Only without the 'far too' part," Orla sat back with a sigh, "Still. What I wouldn't give for a nice fancy place to eat out..."
"We just ate," Rabastan reminded her with a smile, only to be met by two pairs of sharp feminine eyes,
"Some of us are eating for multiple stomachs," Orla reminded her husband, a smile in her eyes even as she put on a stern frown. A frown was far too unnatural on her face. Orla's face was made for smiles, "Which, might I remind you loviekins, is your fault. Er, in my case at least," That earned her a laugh.
"Honestly," Luna sighed, resting her head back against the cushions, "What are we going to do with ourselves? I'd hate to think we've gotten bored with each other already..."
"Especially as we're the only steady company we have," Theodore noted. Rabastan shot him a look, and the younger man grinned just slightly. Of course, they always had Bast's brother and sister-in-law nearby, but who needed to remember that? "Ah correction, company that we do not feel like serving swill to..."
Orla choked on a laugh at that, and Luna giggled. Well, if nothing else, at least they would always have insulting various insufferable family members to fall back on. Such never got old. Luna sighed, "Well there is Marius Jugson, but..." She trailed off, and nothing else needed to be said. The man had been mad and strange enough before, no need to remind him that his wife had left him by inviting him over to a house strewn with baby toys.
"We need to add some spice to the routine is all," Orla proclaimed briskly, with a perky smile, "We get together, we sip tea, we eat dinner, we sit around practicing insults. What else can we do?"
"Hmmm..." Bast rubbed his chin thoughtfully, attempting to look very serious and contemplative, and then, "...Wife swap?" One of the throw pillows that had been next to Orla hit him squarely in the face, as his diminutive muse had risen from her seat and crossed over to give him a proper punishment via small plush cushion.
"Also known as the fasted way to die, Rabastan," Theodore said lazily, slouching back in his chair and sending his Luna a rather smoldering grin. Luna gave him a dotty smile in return.
"You're both animals," Orla pointed out, giggling as Rabastan pulled her into his lap, sitting across his knees.
"Je regrette," He murmured, kissing her temple, and Orla sighed,
"Ça ne fait rien," She murmured back, before glancing back at Luna with a hopeless sigh, "Don't you hate it when they pull out the French?"
"Devious buggers," Luna shook her head, grinning. Orla put back on a highly thoughtful face then, tilting her head and pretending not to notice as her husband continued to press kisses down her jaw,
"We...could..." Orla giggled, "Okay, love, we're not in our own parlour," Rabastan pulled back with a slightly wolfish grin. Orla suddenly snapped her fingers, pointing at her friend, "Luna!"
"Present! Despite you two and your giving me inclinations toward dragging off my husband and having my wicked way with him..." Luna smiled brightly, as Theodore's eyebrows lifted slowly,
"Yes, sorry about that," Orla replied, "You don't happen to have a deck of cards around here, do you...?"
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There are some things one simply does not expect to see within their lifetime. A few years previously, Death Eaters playing poker would have been right up there with flying pigs and politicians. Let alone strip poker, and let alone with two wives that had once been DA members. But, the world is a very strange and often morbidly hilarious place.
"Now, when you say one article of clothing at a time," Theodore was saying slowly, reaching down and rolling up the bottoms of his trousers, "This means I only have to give up one sock..."
"Always so technical," Orla rolled her eyes, sitting across from him at the small coffee table barefoot and lacking a shawl and hairpins as she arranged her cards. Luna snorted, nodding,
"Yes, that's my dearly beloved aura-mate," She agreed, smiling at Theodore over her cards, even though she was down to her petticoat (they had a limit, of course. And Luna was almost through). Theodore gave her a stoic look, before tossing said sock in her face. Rabastan chuckled.
"Honestly, I don't know what is wrong with the lot of you," He observed airily, still fully clothed. The shirtless Theodore Nott (who still had his tie around his neck) gave the older man a calculating glare,
"Rabastan Lestrange, you are the biggest cheater, I swear..."
"He is not!" Orla protested, giggling, tossing in a few chips and re-arranging her new cards, "Bast just...plays more sneakily than most people..."
"Best not forget it," Rabastan grinned, as Luna folded and Theodore put forth a bout of annoyed yet entirely good-humored grumbling.
And so passed another Saturday night in Salem, Massachusetts, as offspring slept and the world continued on its troubling way. Soon enough, of course, there would be more muggles exterminated and more of Voldemort's empire built and once again, Luna Lovegood and Orla Quirke would be turning a blind eye, eyes that they shut in favor of kissing the small faces that clung to their skirts while daddies were away.
But for tonight, Theodore Nott was losing at strip-poker, Rabastan Lestrange was speaking blatantly cheating and Luna and Orla had forgotten about being overheated whilst pregnant in favor of merry laughter. Really, what else did one need?
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Author's Note: It was begging to be written, especially after RPing, heehee. Do review!