Amortentia Dolorosa

With a notable pop, Rabastan appeared in the lobby of Penny Pictures, the nearest Wizarding cinema. The best part, he thought, about wizard films was the fact they were made for audience participation. Just like wizard photos waved back, wizard film stood in the room with you. Audience members became extras, and a good film just took on a whole new level of fascination.

He glanced at Syrian. "Still got all your fingers?"

The man stumbled slightly, the scotch hitting him a bit faster than he realized. Holding his hands up he proceded the count them.

"I got all my bits." he said with a smile, "So thank you."

Rabastan snorted in amusement and stuck a hand under Syrian's elbow, to help keep him up. "Now, all you've got to do is keep your head on."

He directed his stumbling compatriot toward the ticket desk and paid for both of them, keeping both tickets in his hand, as they headed for the door to the theatre itself.

"Lady Swallow," he said, offering the tickets to the usher, as he guided Syrian and the bottle into the theatre, ahead of him.

"I'm fine..." he said smiling, "I'm just a bit disoriented from the trip. No worries."

Once in the theater he pulled out the bottle of scotch and took a deep swig before hanging it to Babs. "Here you go friend, for the trip."

"Cheers to you and the blood of Scotland," Rabastan offered, taking a significant gulp of the scotch, as the first newsreel started.

The news seemed to focus on the untimely disappearances of several notable wizards, who had been outspoken in the cause of protecting the muggles from Wizarding interference. Two of the names surprised him, but on three more, he congratulated himself on a job well done. They'd never find old Philip Bones.

"Well," he said in a whisper, "This is a depressing way to start a film. Like I want to know about blood traitors."

Rabastan patted Syrian on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Syr. I killed that one, last week," he whispered, pointing to the screen.

The newscaster faded out, and a silver hippogriff bounded down the aisle, before diving seamlessly into the screen. 'Moonflight Pictures', the screen announced, as the hippogriff posed proudly upon it. And then came the birds, groups of swallows carrying the letters for the title out into the theatre.

And then came Margaret Astenbay as the protagonist, Lady Emmeline Swallow. She hopped down from the 'Y' in 'Lady' and blew kisses to every man in the theatre. "Hello, boys..."

The credits continued, in much this fashion.

He chuckled lightly, and took another drink, before handing the bottle back to Babs. "Well, we have two things to celebrate then don't we."

He watched in vague amusement as the women of the screen floated in and out between everyone.

"Indeed we do, at that." Rabastan took another drink and put his feet up on the seat in front of him.

The film was fairly typical fare: a witch from a poor family had taken up dancing in a muggle cabaret to make ends meet, until one night, a wealthy pureblood wizard came in and swept her off her feet. Lots of singing and dancing. Easy refrains, so the audience could sing along.

"Please, take my hand in your hand, dear," Rabastan sung along, just drunk enough to try, as the words appeared at the top of the screen. "Hold my love in your heart, dear."

HE laughed, watching and listing to Rabastan sing along, occasionally taking a swig or three out of the bottle and passing it along to the side.

He was enjoying himself, he realized, as stupid and as silly as this was it was pleasant.

As the big dance number at the end of the first act began, Rabastan grabbed the bottle and shoved Syrian out of his seat, toward one of the holo-magic'd audience-participation girls that stepped down from the screen every time someone stood up.

"Give 'em hell!" he called, taking a swig.

He laughed, and let himself be lead to where Bab's had brought him. Laughing he dances with the Magical Hologram with pure delight.

Rabastan snickered to himself, watching Syrian drunkenly gambol with the dancer from the film. This was definitely more fun than he'd anticipated, and twice the riot of coming out with his mother. She'd have made sure he was the one dancing, and that was just not his bag.

He kept drinking, slowly, until the intermission came, and they had to change the reels.

"Good times, eh, Syr?"

He nodded, then laughed, "More than I expected in all honesty. "

He grabbed the bottle of scotch and took a long drink and sighed, waiting for the film to start again, "Eventually I do have to leave however, since I have an honest work in the morning."

"You're maybe my age, you are. You can stand one more hour of dancing girls, and make it to work with no regrets," Rabastan chided, elbowing Syrian in the ribs. "I'd be more worried about the hangover than the lack of sleep."

He pointed toward the screen, as the projector slowly sped up, winding through the blank frames that began the second reel. "Is it just me, or does our hero look like Evan Rosier's da?"

"Yes actually, save being much younger." he sat quiet for a moment. "Quite odd...."

"See, now you have to stay for the credits, or you'll never know," Rabastan laughed, turning to sweep a holo-magic girl off her feet.

The girl whooped with surprised laughter, and then chided him. "Now, we can't have that sort of thing here! This is a family picture!"

Rabastan chuckled and set her back down. "They really do the girls right for the big shows," he commented to Syrian.

He nodded slightly, staring at the picture. "It is actually, I was just thinking how much time and energy it would take to make this not only in our dimension, but responsive to our actions as well."

Rabastan laughed. "Can't get a job at Gringotts? Go into the pictures. They're really on a level, they are. Well past we two, sure yeah."

He laughed, and watched as the three dimensional woman danced around him. "Maybe I should consider another career." he said with a large grin.

Rabastan elbowed Syrian, with a grin. "Ah, but you just got this one, you did. And what would our man say about that, eh? One of his working in the picture shows?"

He dropped back into his seat and put his feet up on the one in front of him. The film continued to work its way toward the climactic moment and the final dance number.

He feel into the sead next to Bab's and sighed, "Aye, he would be cross....but imagine the propaganda I could create with half naked beauties."

"And twice the riot if you made them look like the Black sisters. Not a man of the blood who hasn't had an eye for that, until one of them started to talk..." Rabastan remarked, with a lazy smirk. "But, then, it's personal with me and that Bellatrix, it is."

He watched the film for a bit. "We could do some serious damage to the opposition with a good propaganda film. I wonder if you shouldn't put the idea to Him. He's always been a bit touchy about using any hint of Muggle shite, in the campaign, but this might be good enough to go."