Rabastan found himself back outside after breakfast, using his wand to lift rocks and skip them across the pond. It was cathartic – both the subtle act of magically levitating the ore, as well as the violence of throwing them in a just barely controlled fashion to create the delicate ripples on the water's surface. He was sure there was a metaphor in there somewhere, but for now he just wanted to enjoy the little bit of power he was able to exert.
One stroke with his wand went a little off kilter as a bird flushed out of the grass to his left, and the pebble sailed over the pond on accident, bouncing forcefully off the ground on the other side before exploding mid-air. His eyebrows raised at the blast, looking around to see if anyone else was about to observe it. With no other witnesses to confirm he wasn't going mad, he decided to repeat the happy accident, only this time flinging the rock deliberately at the far side of the water. Approximately 1 meter past the shoreline it burst into an impressive array of powder and fire. He grinned then, chucking stone after stone at the invisible barrier, testing it's limits in distance, height, and size of rubble. The last one combusted with such intensity that small pieces rained down on the water below, disturbing the otherwise glassy surface.
"They're protection wards," came the voice from behind him, and Rabastan jumped in the air, swinging his wand around to point at the newcomer. Ron, he recognized, lifted his hands in front of himself, a faintly amused look on his face.
He was taller than Rabastan, and broader, with a friendly countenance that likely helped him win over allies easily. His bearing was casual, but his crossed arms and wide stance belied an underlying readiness for anything to happen. Rabastan wondered, fleetingly, if it was a result of his role in the war or his training. He suspected it was the former, tempered by the latter. He was the type that would be easy to underestimate, before finding oneself bound and buried under the heel of a boot on the ground.
"Protection wards?" he asked. Ron nodded, pointing up.
"They cover the grounds from just before the gate, to just over the pond, and equidistant on each side. They repel any object or person from entering or exiting, unless they have permission to do so," came the response.
"So, if someone tried to leave without permission...?" he drawled, curious about the vicious manner in which the newest Lady of the Manor work to protect it.
"Not quite as dramatic as what you see with those rocks," grinned his companion, "They just get a strong shock, and knocked out for a few minutes"
"Well, thats... almost disappointing," he responded, frowning a little.
"Yeah, well, Mione is not big on theatrics. And she really hates having to clean up blood, so she's more catch and release than explosions and guts everywhere," came the dry reply. Rabastan's eyebrows raised conspicuously, before laughing at the teasing expression he found. Ron chuckled as well, settling back onto his heels as the two men regarded each other equally for the first time.
"I can understand not wanting to let people out, given the circumstances,"said Rabastan, "But why not in?"
"Ah, well, that's a bit more complicated,"replied Ron, rubbing the back of his head, "It's no secret that Mione is housing Death Eaters...I'm sorry, former Death Eaters here"
Rabastan shrugged – it wasn't as if that was false. And truthfully, he wasn't sure where he fell on the Death Eater to Former Death Eater spectrum, seeing as how the only real difference for himself was the lack of a living master. And maybe, a tiny little, itty bitty speck of respect for the blood traitor in front of him.
"Has she shown you the letters yet?" asked Ron, and Rabastan shook his head in the negative, "Suffice it to say there's a large range of response to the fact that several of you... your colleagues are no longer housed in Azkaban. The levels of passion remain the same, but they run the gamut from extremely angry about it to wanting to come live here, and everything in between"
"That seems... Unexpected,"answered Rabastan, his lips pursing, "Though, there are always those drawn to power and chaos"
Ron leveled an unimpressed look at him, before continuing, "There were a few incidences early on. A few people tried to get in, mostly harmless. A woman ran up to the front door, completely starkers, throwing herself at Dolph. He was mortified, and Hermione had one hell of a time catching her because she'd doused herself in a magical lubricant before slipping through the wards"
Rabastan laughed out loud at the visual, and Ron grinned at him again before his face settled into a more serious moue, "But there were a few who were less innocent. Hermoine was woken up one night by the portraits to find someone walking the halls of the manor with an enchanted knife. He was going room by room, and it was just luck he hadn't found anyone yet. After that she hired someone to help redo the wards and make them repellent. She was afraid someone might just send an enchanted object over if they couldn't get in, so she made them anti person and inanimate object"
"What about the people who come for breakfast every morning?" he asked.
"Ah, only allowed in through floo, or the gates and by special permission. Everyone has to undergo ministry clearance" Rabastan snorted at that, and Ron gave him a rueful grin, " And there are only five attached fireplaces. One from the Auror's department, one from Mione's place in London, one from Harry's home, one from Malfoy manor, and the last is from my place. And the Malfoy manor floo has it's own set of restrictions – only Malfoys are allowed through. So, if you don't know one of us, you can't get here. No one except Hermione apparates in or out, no exceptions. Even Harry and I have to take the long route"
"So, you really have just gobs of people tromping through your house at the earliest hours of the morning? For breakfast?" asked Rabastan, slightly aghast at the thought.
Ron rubbed a hand through his hair, "I'll be honest, mate. It took a little bit of time to get used to it, but I think we...we all just needed to know it was worth it, right? What we went through. We needed to know someone else felt the same way we did. That the war wasn't the end. That we were building something better for our kids. So they wouldn't have to go through the same thing again. I'll take a million interrupted mornings to never have that sick feeling of not knowing if I would wake up again"
Rabastan nodded silently, rubbing his left forearm unconsciously. He knew, far too well, that fear. The uncertainty of whether or not you'd be found and killed, or you'd wake up from some nightmare just to be dragged out of your cell for the Kiss. To never know if some fit of lunacy would lead to the killing curse just because He felt like it that day. Ron tipped his head at the gesture.
"Still hurt?" he asked. Rabastan shrugged again, embarrassed to have been caught. "Mione has a paste that can help take out the sting. It seemed to be the worst for the others the first few months out. Lessens over time"
"It comes and goes fairly quickly," he dismissed evenly, not willing to admit to a failing. The red head eyed him speculatively, but nodded in acceptance.
"Well, if you need anything, Hermione will always be there to help," he answered. Rabastan nodded, before frowning thoughtfully.
"Tell me, how exactly did Miss Granger react when she was given the Lestrange fortune?" he asked.
Ron's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "Oh. I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"
Rabastan twisted his lips impatiently, "Know what?"
"She didn't want them, actually. None of us did," he started, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably. Rabastan schooled an impassive look on his face, not wanting to interrupt him, "Harry was offered the Nott family homes and fortune. I got handed the titles to the Goyle properties and vaults. And Neville actually was given your lands and vaults. He turned them down straight away, wanted nothing to do with it. His wife, Hannah, she begged him to think about it because they're not terribly well off, but Neville was firm about it. Wouldn't budge. Said blood money wouldn't erase the past, and he couldn't be paid off"
Rabastan couldn't help the small lift of his eyebrows, "So, how did Granger end up with it?"
"Well, after Neville, they offered it to Hermione. She was going to turn it down as well, but since it's Mione, she asked what would happen if she did. And they told her everything would go to the Ministry then," he answered.
"EVERYTHING?" asked Rabastan, aghast. Ron nodded affirmatively.
"Everything. Same with the Goyle and Nott fortunes if we turned them down. And, let's just say, none of us were comfortable with the ministry having access to that much money, given our history"
"Wise decision. It wasn't exactly difficult to buy our way in," he replied, "Can you imagine the corruption with basically unlimited access to whatever stupid idea crossed the Wizengamot that day?"
"Exactly. And there are a few too many who played both sides of the fence during the war. Given a push in the right direction, they might just pass the sort of legislation we're trying to avoid. There was even talk about a marriage law!"
Rabastan snorted, "I wondered. Something like that comes up at least once a decade"
"Yes, well, it was destroyed before it even had a chance to make it onto the floor. Pucey, actually. He was still trying to win Hermione over at that point," answered Ron, with a rueful look.
"So, Granger took our home and vaults because she didn't want the Ministry to get it's hands on it," summarized Rabastan, prodding forward.
"Ah, yes. But they sat largely unused until the major reconstruction and charity projects started coming in. Rebuilding Hogwarts, War Orphan fund, Diagon Alley Renovation, stuff like that. Where the funds fell short, she would supply the rest of the money. Even paid for supplies for about a quarter of the kids starting Hogwarts this fall. Most of them from older families that had their assets seized. Said she wants the kids to feel as normal as possible"
"Are our investment funds still in place?" he queried. Ron nodded affirmatively again.
"The ones that weren't dodgy were left in place. The ones that were, ah, less than savory she had the money shifted over into more suitable funds. Doesn't make quite as much money, but as I understand pretty much everything that's been spent has already been made back. Mione lives mostly off of her own income. Tries to avoid touching the vaults if she possibly can. Mostly she spends your money for house upkeep and taking care of the inmates"
"Well. Hell," grumbled Rabastan. Ron bestowed him with a knowing grin.
"Pretty hard to hate her, isn't it?"
"Harder than I'd hoped. I'll keep trying, though"
Ron laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He couldn't remember the last time someone who wasn't family had willingly touched him in such a familiar manner. In any manner, actually. He smiled hesitantly at the younger man's face, unwilling to confront that budding flower of respect within him.
"Don't worry. She's not all sunshine and roses. She can be a real fright to deal with at times. I'm sure you can find something to hold onto"
"Thanks, that makes me feel much better," he answered dryly. Ron laughed again before turning to leave.
"Ah, I did actually have a purpose for coming out here. Mione asked me to 'Stop that damned lunatic from throwing shit at the wards'. I'd be much obliged if you'd quit flinging rocks at them. I'd hate to have to come back out here again. It's a long walk each time. Makes me cranky"
"You could...oh, right. No apparition. Fine. I'll wait until the next Aurors start their shift," Rabastan replied.
"Thanks, mate!" replied Ron, giving a friendly salute before trudging back to the house. Rabastan watched him leave, conversation mulling over in his head. He had hoped that he could find some flaw, some opening he could use to gain some leverage over Granger, but that was becoming more of a distant dream the more he learned of their current predicament.
There was becoming the distinct possibility he was going to have to change his tactics. Despite everyone's assurances that Granger was not perfect, and was in fact human, her avoidance of common human pitfalls – like money – were making it distinctly difficult to believe that there was anything so glaringly wrong with her that he might be able to grab a hold of it and use to get her out of the way. Even more concerning was that he almost admired her resolution. Almost. It was actually a little annoying that she was so...good.
He pursed his lips. Who actually turned down money like that? Who declined vaults and turned away fortunes because of their morals? How was it that people like that actually existed? And if her integrity was that strong, what was the best way to break his way in? He wrinkled his nose at the answer. He had Pucey, but was that enough? Perhaps, instead of pulling her apart from the outside, he was going to have to find her defects and dismantle them from the inside. And for that, he would have to be much, much closer.
He picked up a rock with his wand, tossing it straight up in the air, before letting it drop to the ground with a dull thunk. He'd never been one to shy away from getting his hands a little dirty and now it looked he was going to be playing in the mud.
