ignorance is bliss || rabastan & narcissa

The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of a sleepy town, the awning lit by the watery January sun. A crunchy coating of snow stuck to the grass, but the sky was cloudless and blue. He thought Narcissa might appreciate the quiet and the light, just as Rabastan appreciated that there wasn’t a single witch or wizard living for miles and miles around. The door squeaked as he opened it, and a round Muggle woman in an apron looked up from her spot serving one of the few occupied tables with a smile for him. He nodded his head in greeting, making his way toward a corner table beside the windows.

The whole scene felt surreal to him. He was out of his element in this place, yes, but he refused to receive Narcissa at the manor, not while he could still find bits of stone and broken glass in the corners. The runner from the foyer was still rolled up in a coat closet, waiting to be scrubbed of blood by his cleaning spells. No, he wouldn’t ask her there. Their homes were invaded that night, and tension still hung so thickly in the air in all the familiar places that he could hardly speak through his fury. And he would never allow himself to explode in front of Narcissa, not her. So he hunted down the farthest place from it all that he could imagine.

Once he had settled down on the cushioned chair, the waitress made her way over. “What can I get for you, hon?” she asked, the blissful ignorance in her voice nearly choking him. It always threw him when he was reminded that the majority of the population lived their lives never knowing of the war long brewing right under their noses, just beyond their perception. Children laughed and played in the streets, men and women smiled and it reached their eyes–unlined and free of dark shadows.

“A friend is actually on her way to meet me here. I’d like to wait a moment, please,” he said, returning her smile.

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll check back when your friend arrives,” she promised, heading back to the kitchens.

Rabastan had just begun to look over the laminated menu when the door to the cafe squeaked again and he looked up to see a woman with a familiar light head of hair step through the doorway. She spotted him in a moment and headed for the table. Rabastan stood as she got closer, and the movement caused pain to shoot across his ribs unexpectedly. But he stood tall, clenched his jaw and hid it with a smile, stepping forward to pull her chair out for her. “Good morning, Cissy. It’s nice to see you, as always.”

{ @always-pure }

It’s like you’re eating alone and it’s all fine - you like being alone anyways, and then someone texts you. Like a close friend from back home or a sibling or your parents and you’re like haha I’m eating alone here I have no friends.

And then even though you didn’t give a shit about it before, suddenly you just burst out into tears, and you realize how miserable you actually felt. 

And oh, what a horrible feeling it is.


Sorry for the rant, but I can’t help but laugh at seeing legit fucks getting praise and love by ignorant, brainwashed people who follow them like lost puppies. I don’t pretend to be an amazing person, I’m far from, a good amount of people would probably consider me just as bad and hypocritical. But I’ll do my part to not support asshats or the brainwashed morons who support them. Unfollows are welcome, as I’m clearing my dash of equal bullshit.