Noyade | Rabastan Lestrange [2] ✔︎

07 | QUICKSAND

Being raised in a mansion with a huge library while nobody cared that one lived there, had only a few perks. At the age of seventeen Rabastan Lestrange had already read a considerable amount of books – fiction, biographies and parts of scientific pieces of literature alike.

It was an unfitting moment in time, but when he floated high above the ground during Quidditch practice, he remembered something which he had once read about quicksand. He scarcely memorised things from scientific books, but he had always had an interest in quicksand which he couldn't quite explain. Only now he realised that emotions actually had an awfully close resemblance to it. Every human being with the tiniest bit of sense would try to stay as far away from the substance as possible. Who would want to get caught in it and slowly sink deeper and deeper until it closed above their head and there was no air left to breathe. He couldn't help but imagine how one would try to hold their breath and their lungs would start to burn until there was no oxygen left. It wouldn't take long after trying to suck in a breath of oxygen to go unconscious before the brain and other organs would cease to function. Then the suffering would finally be over.

Early on in his childhood he had learned that attachment to others would at some point cause him pain. Like people do with quicksand, he had tried to push people away in order to minimise the risk of becoming emotionally attached. With Phoenix, however, he had ventured too close to the edge and before he had even realised it, he had found himself in the middle of the quicksand. Every time that she had smiled at him or simply looked at him with a look that didn't show annoyance or disgust he had been pulled deeper into the quicksand. With her by his side he had been fine with it, but now that she wasn't there anymore, he felt like the air was being pressed out of his lungs. He had read that remaining still, trying to float on one's back and slowly paddle out was a way of escaping quicksand and he felt like it was the same with their situation. Maybe he could have fought for her and taken her away from his friend, but for what? To destroy both of their lives, so neither of them would be respected among their families anymore? He knew how much her family meant to her and he couldn't rip it away from her. They would only sink deeper. Perhaps it was selflessness, maybe cowardice, but he decided to stay still. He had to emotionally detach himself from her, float on his back without moving. And with time the pain would probably fade away.

The only problem: Pain hardly ever stayed away from the lives of people like them.

It was almost as if the universe wanted to prove him right by showing how unlucky he actually was. Totally captured by his thoughts, he only noticed the ball aimed straight at him when it was no more than a few inches away from his face. He immediately ducked his head out of instinct and it only brushed his white-blonde hair. Rabastan exhaled with relief and turned his head, expecting to see Regulus, who was their new captain as well as an experienced Beater, shake his head at him with a small smirk before beating a Bludger in a different direction. Instead he watched Alex Avery catch the Quaffle beneath him. His cheeks flushed with hot embarrassment.

With his thoughts completely elsewhere he had actually just mistaken a Quaffle, which he would have been supposed to catch, with a Bludger.

He closed his eyes and slightly shook his head to clear his mind.

"Is your mind still poisoned, Lestrange?" Hunter Flint sneered in his direction, raising his eyebrows so high that they nearly disappeared under his dark hair. It was more than obvious that he enjoyed commenting his teammate's lack of concentration as he went on, "Do you still have trouble focusing on what's really important?"

Rabastan hated being mocked. Especially by people like him and obviously Flint was perfectly aware of that fact. However, he could impossibly know the reason for it. How would he know that Rabastan hated being made fun of because he felt like it made him loose control over his reputation? Too exhausted by his recent lack of sleep, Rabastan was nearly about to let him get away with a roll of is blue eyes for once, when his instincts suddenly came back to life.

He flashed the other chaser a proud smirk. "Your sister didn't seem to mind me focusing on her, though."

Triumphantly he watched Flint's face turn red with anger. Over the years Rabastan had acquired a sense for which strings he had to pull in order to earn other people's respect. He would have had to lie to say that being in control didn't feel good, but at times he felt guilty for using people's weaknesses when he had so many of his own.

Flint, however, had made a habit of pointing out Rabastan's flaws since the latter had made out with his sister and dumped her only a few hours later. His anger had turned out to be both his strength and weakness. Little did he know that most of the blonde boy's words were lies. He hadn't done more with Eliza Flint than kissing – or with any other girl for that matter – as he panicked at the idea of letting someone get too close. He dreaded letting someone see the scars on his body.

"You bloody..." Flint started towards him and nearly knocked him off of his broom, only to crash into the stands behind Rabastan when he moved sideways.

Rabastan couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him lying between two benches, with his narrowed eyes fixed on him. "Well, at least I have enough focus to actually hit my targets. I don't think the same can be said for you."

He heard Flint grumble as he pushed himself back on his short legs and brushed the dirt from his clothes. "One day you'll get what you deserve, Lestrange."

"Don't hold your breath."

"I need to talk to you, now," Regulus' voice cut in and Rabastan turned to see his best friend right next to him, his eyes slightly narrowed. Then he yelled at all the others, "Practice is over. Next one is scheduled for Tuesday."

Of course Flint didn't even think about walking past Rabastan without knocking against his shoulder when they returned to the ground. In return the blonde boy flicked the back of his head with his hand, which was followed by a glare from his best friend.

When all of the other players had left to the changing rooms, Regulus crossed his arms and gave him a stern look. "You've got to stop doing this shit."

"Do what?"

"Harassing our teammates," Regulus simply stated. "See, when Will was still our captain I was fine with, I found it funny actually, but how are they supposed obey me when not even my best friend does?"

"You're talking about Flint flying into the stands?" Rabastan asked with a grin. "The little idiot flew himself in there. The only thing I did was moving away."

"But you provoked him."

"So?"

Regulus threw his hands in the air. "For Salazar's sake, would you just stop the childish behaviour? You don't want me to walk on glass around you, so I don't. Man up, Rabastan. This is a children's feud. I thought you finally understood that last year."

"If you hint at anything linked to her with only one more word, I'll punch you," Rabastan threatened, perfectly aware that he would never hit his best friend. His blood felt like it was burning.

"No, you won't. I don't know how to deal with your current situation, mate. She's my sister and I would always take her side without even thinking, but here it's not about picking sides. It's neither her fault nor yours. I get where you're coming from by staying away from her and it's obviously hard for you, but I can't let you cast all your emotions on our teammates. I know how to deal with our team's situation," Regulus told him, his voice dangerously calm. "You'll keep a low profile."

"Or what?" Rabastan turned around and walked towards the changing rooms, pulling off his protective gloves. His hands where shaking and he felt the darkness inside of him grow.

"Or you're out."