DATE WITH THE DEVIL

Rabastan, leaning against the mantelpiece, smiled at her. "Enjoy the funeral?" he asked, then frowned at the tears streaming down Judy's cheeks. "Whatever is the matter with her?"

Andromeda took a moment to push down her anger. Rabastan, who had to turn up now of all times, who asked the daughter of a dead man why she was crying. Rabastan, who was always there to make things more complicated.

"Her father just died," she said.

Rabastan tried to look repentant, but the jovial glint in his eyes wrecked the picture. "Ah. Of course."

He looked as he usually did, wearing fine-cut robes that for anyone else would be too expensive to wear, glasses perched on his nose, a sickly smile on his lips. He wore a silver tie pin curved into the shape of a snake, and when she looked for them, Andromeda saw a pair of skull-shaped cufflinks glittering from his sleeves.

"You're looking rather sombre, Andromeda. Was it anyone we know who died?"

She stiffened, almost feeling the wave of hatred from Judy. "It was Mr Crouch," she said, voice deadly quiet. "Judy's father. I just said that a moment ago."

"Oh. Yes, of course. Little things like that tend to slip my mind."

Itching to return to the calm and safety of the school, Andy asked, "Why are you in Hogsmeade, Rabastan? I thought you were working."

"I came here to see you, of course. Honestly, darling, is a man not allowed to visit his fiancée when said fiancée lives in a remote Scottish boarding school?"

She gave a false laugh. "We should go, Rab. It's been a long day."

"Of course," he said.

But as the girls turned to exit, ready to meet with Slughorn outside the Three Broomsticks as arranged, he called out, "Wait!"

Confused as to why he would go so far as to say something so loudly, she turned. "What is it?"

"This weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, is it not?"

"I believe it is."

"Well, we missed Valentine's. Might I ask you for a meal on Saturday?"

"Alright," Andy replied, trying to suppress a sigh. "Saturday."

"I'll meet you outside of the gates and walk you down. Goodbye, Andromeda. Saturday."

Ted and Andy were on patrol, again, the castle quiet and empty, as if they were the sole inhabitants of the school. It was on the western corridor of the third floor that Ted said: "After the business of Mr Crouch, we missed our Hogsmeade trip."

She stopped in her tracks. "Oh."

He looked panicked. "Oh. It's - it's okay if you don't want to. I mean … it's just … it's alright. Yeah, of course, I understand if-"

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but she leant forward and cut him off with a peck on the lips. It was only the slightest brush, but it left her blushing, ducking her head in embarrassment. Ted blinked, then grinned.

"Ah," he said. "It's not because of that then."

"No." She looked away, not wanting to see his disappointment, his realisation that this could never work. "It's … it's Rabastan. He wants to see me this weekend."

"Ah. Well … yes."

She sighed. "I wish I could just … say no. To Rab."

"Why don't you?"

"I can't. It's just … it just isn't something that's done. You can't say no."

Ted made a sound of understanding, but for the rest of the patrol, their conversation was subdued, and there was no more kissing or shy, flirty looks. Andromeda spent her time just thinking; there would always be something holding her away from Ted, or whoever else she would manage to fall in love with in her life. She could never be with who she chose.

(Why don't you just say no?)

She was dancing in hideously tall high heels, teetering and tripping all over the place, the soles of her feet aching like a knife was slowly carving off the skin.

Who was she dancing with? The lights were low, and a mask obscured his entire face, his hair was covered by a hat, and even his hands were swathed in velvet gloves. Despite her clumsiness, the man waltzed her around the dance hall, past other shadowy figures in similar attire.

An unlit chandelier tinkled above. Waiters held trays of bubbling champagne in the corners of the room. As they danced, the shadows seemed to leap and twirl with them.

She looked up at him, "What is your name?"

He didn't reply, not even changing his rhythm.

"Why are you wearing that mask? Is this a masquerade ball? I must have forgotten mine."

He still didn't answer, and Andromeda sighed. "I'm not sure it's necessary to ignore me. I am your partner for this whole dance, so there's no point ignoring me. Waltzes like this tend to drag on.

"Oh, please. Come on. At least tell me your name. Only I'm in a bit of a situation here. I'm not quite sure where I am. Are you Rabastan?"

No reply. Andromeda sighed, looking around the room wildly. Finding nothing to distract her, she turned back to her silent partner with a huff.

"I don't even know who you are! Please, do tell. Who are you?"

He suddenly stopped in his dance, the music halting with him. Every guest turned to look at them in silence. As Andromeda watched, the mask fell off his face, hitting the floor with a dull thud. His face stared out at her, unblinking … because he had no eyes. No nose. No skin at all, in fact. Andromeda was dancing with a skeleton, his gaping eyesockets boring into her own skull, a mocking grin on his ivory face. His hands - which she now realised were sharp and bony - held tight onto her, preventing her from moving away. The music restarted and he swung her back into the rhythm.

They waltzed away all night.

She reached the gates late after sleeping in, her hands still quivering from the dream. The air was cool and dry, the sun shining rather weakly through a film of cloud, and the plants around the grounds were in full spring bloom. She wore a pair of Slytherin green robes with glittering diamonds around the bodice, and she had taken the time to style her hair into a complicated arrangement of braids. A heavy emerald hung from her neck, and her engagement ring glared from its spot on her finger.

He was waiting, of course, staring up at Hogwarts in a peculiar way that Andromeda couldn't quite fathom. Professor McGonagall was supervising the exit and entrance of students, and he wrinkled his nose as he saw her, eyes full of hate.

"Muggle-loving bitch," he murmured under his breath as they set off. "She hated me in school."

Andy said nothing, thinking that the stern woman had never treated any student in her classes any different to the rest unless there was a good reason for it. From what she had heard of Rabastan's school days, he hadn't exactly been an angel.

But she sighed and nodded along, acting the perfect pureblood wife-to-be and agreeing to every comment or suggestion by the husband-to-be.

The rest of the walk was an endless monologue by Rabastan, backed by sweetly singing birds and the smell of cut grass and the sun laughing brightly from the sky. The world gleamed with a glossy brilliance, like the sheen of polished silverware, and everyone else shone along with it, with hearts singing and faces merry and eyes full of joy and life.

Where Andy walked, there was no gloss. There seemed to be a cold area surrounding her fiancé, shrouding her in murky gloom, leaving her heart to shrivel from the stiffness of the ordeal, her eyes to turn into orbs of glass, her bones to freeze where they stood. Her robes were restricting, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She nearly tripped several times over the heels of her shoes. When Rabastan put his clammy hand onto her shoulder, it felt like Death's own grip taking her into his grasp.

Needless to say, the sunny day was not as jolly as it should have been.

They reached a small café on the far side of town, which stood completely empty. Rab had clearly booked the entire room because the three waitresses were lined up against the counter waiting for them.

The girl on the left smiled sweetly. "Good afternoon, Mr Lestrange and Miss Black. Please do take a table; your Afternoon Tea will be ready shortly."

Rabastan took a table by the window and pulled a chair out for Andromeda, waiting for her to sit before tucking her in. He took the chair opposite her.

"You booked the entire café?" She asked, staring around the empty room.

"Yes," he said, looking entirely too casual about it.

There was a sharp silence until the tea came.

It started with the drinks: two little teapots and china teacups, with jugs of milk and cream and sugar and honey.

"How long have they been brewing?" Rab asked the waitress.

"We've only just put the teabags in, sir."

"And what is the tea?" Andromeda spoke up.

Rabastan turned to her. "I ordered Earl Grey for you. Is that alright?"

He nodded and sat back, eyes dark and expectant as if the tea would brew faster if he stared enough.

Andy examined the teacups, tracing the delicate patterns with her thumb, wondering how hard she would have to press before it shattered into a million shards.

Just as the tea brewed, the waitresses brought over a triple-tier stand full of finger sandwiches.

Rabastan took a ham and mustard sandwich while Andy slid a smoked salmon with cream cheese onto her own plate.

"How is school?" Rabastan asked.

"Fine," she said.

"I cannot believe we haven't seen each other since Christmas. Time seems to have flown since then - it's March already!"

She smiled and nodded meekly.

"And of course I must apologise for missing St. Valentine's day. I was … occupied by something rather pressing."

"Oh. What was that?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose and brushed an invisible piece of lint from his robes. "Work for the Dark Lord," he said, voice more pompous and haughty than usual.

"Ah."

One of the waitresses cleaning a table near them had stopped in her work, eyes wide. Rabstan frowned and made a shooing motion with his hands and she skittered off behind the counter.

"Isn't your work rather confidential?" Andy asked tentatively.

"The Ministry isn't doing a thing. We could kill Albus Dumbledore and they would pretend nothing's happening. Besides, I know who these waitresses are - they're too terrified to tell anyone."

After the rest of the sandwiches were devoured (these included cucumber, egg mayonnaise with watercress, and coronation chicken), the scones were delivered. Pots of cream and jars of jam accompanied them, and soon enough they were spreading it on the buttery bakes.

Rabastan raised an eyebrow at Andromeda. "Cream first?"

"Yes. I see you do the opposite."

He laughed. "Jam first, my darling. Jam is always first." *

She sighed, wincing as she watched him spread clotted cream on top of the jam.

After the scones came homemade cakes and pastries so small Andromeda was afraid they would get lost in her hands. The entire time - consisting of the cakes and another pot of tea each (Andy went for Darjeeling and Rab for Lapsang Souchong) - was spent by Andromeda trying not to retch at every movement from her fiancé. He had brushed his hand against hers when they had both reached for the pot of milk, and every so often he would brush his ankle up her leg, presumably thinking it was a soothing motion. It wasn't.

She could hardly spend a minute in his company without dying a little inside, losing more hope, because this was the man she was to spend her life with. He would become her entire life. No time for Judy or for Ted, just too-expensive afternoon teas and an ankle creeping up her shins.

Rabastan nodded to the waitresses and swung his cloak over his shoulder, offering a hand to help Andy up. They exited the same way they had entered - in silence - and Rab led the way.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said. She did not like the look on his face.

Across the street, down an alleyway, and another, and suddenly he had her pressed against the bricks, and his lips were on hers. It all came back - hours spent weeping in that tiny bedroom, his hands all over her, his lips sucking and biting wherever he pleased. This time, his hands settled on her waist, pressing her back into the wall. (She wished he could disappear into it.). His chapped lips. Heat. A tongue exploring her mouth. A hand moving up to mess up her previously perfect hair. Goosebumps cascading down her arms. Heat in her face, where he touched her, but terribly cold inside.

Finally, he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath. His face was still mere centimetres from hers, and as he exhaled she struggled not to cough on his rancid breath.

"I've missed you, Andromeda. Oh, I've missed you," he breathed, then leant forward to attack her lips again.

* For the cream tea - spread the cream first, THEN the jam. Jam is on top. ALWAYS.

Ah. I love afternoon tea. Not with Rabastan, though he could buy the most expensive things on the menu, I guess.

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Sorry, this took so long! I think I need more reviews to spur me into action…

(See that hint? Yes? See what I'm trying to say?)