The Writer and the Death Eater | Rabastan Lestrange

Chapter Six

 Tommy and Rabastan spent the rest of breakfast chatting about other things besides the new book. While neither of them said much about their personal lives, Tommy learned that Rabastan did come from a wealthy family. 

 "The Lestranges are centuries old and very rich," he said. "Not to brag or anything like that. My older brother runs the estate now, but whenever I find myself in dire need of money, he always gives some to me whenever I ask." 

 "So...none if you really have to do much for a living?" Tommy asked. 

 "Well, we can have jobs. The Lestranges are...sort of social outcasts these days, though. Besides, I'm sixty; I doubt anyone's looking to hire a sixty-year-old man from a lunatic family like mine for any sort of job." 

 Tommy put down his cup. "I thought you might be about sixty, perhaps a little younger. But don't worry, you don't look very old." 

 Rabastan smiled, looking amused. "I'd say that's good to know. You still look rather young yourself." 

 "Well, I'm only forty-two. It's not very old. I've made a living off writing for a long time. My father wanted me to work in the government like him, but I never thought it was something I would enjoy doing." 

 "Your father works for...the government?" Rabastan asked slowly. "Is this by any chance a Swedish version of the Ministry of Magic?" 

 "Well, I suppose so, if that's the wizard government you have in England." Tommy paused. "You're not in any trouble with the law, are you?" 

 "Me? Certainly not. Well, not anymore. I promise you, it's been twenty years since the last time I had any problems with the law, and I haven't had any major problems with foreign governments during my travels. You're perfectly safe with me." 

 Tommy would not have guessed that Rabastan had been in trouble with the law before. He just didn't seem like the type that would go around causing trouble. But he did say his last run-in with the law was twenty years ago, so he might have reinvented himself a bit since then. 

 "Have...I said something?" Rabastan asked. "You look very nervous. If it's what I said about-" 

 "Oh, no, you don't have to worry about that," Tommy cut in. "As long as you will not be having trouble with the law anytime soon." 

 "I certainly hope not." 

 They were both silent for about thirty seconds. Tommy began to munch on one of the pastries while Rabastan leaned back in his chair and looked about a thousand miles away. 

 "So, what brought you to Sweden?" Tommy asked. "I was just curious. You don't seem like an ordinary tourist." 

 "I doubt I am. Well, the reason I came to Stockholm was actually because of your book. I happened to read in the back that you live in Stockholm, and it made me realize that I'd never been to Sweden before. I didn't have plans to travel anywhere specific at the time, so I decided to come here. I think it's a good thing I did, since I'm helping a new friend who was in need of a bit of help." 

 Friend. That was something Tommy didn't have many of. No, he didn't really have any at all, did he? That was why spending time with Rabastan felt so strange; he was a lot more anti-social than he ever realized. 

 "Well, thank you very much, Rabastan," he said. "I think I'd better go, but you're welcome to come around to my apartment. Not tonight; I always go to my mother's for dinner on Sundays. But you can come over tomorrow if you want." 

 Rabastan smiled "I would like that very much. I'll see you tomorrow, then, Tommy?" 

 Tommy nodded. "I hope so." 

 He grabbed his pen and notepad and walked back across the street, feeling as if this strange thing that was happening wouldn't be so bad after all.