Walden didn't like the Lestrange Estate. The furniture was all too small and flimsy for him, and Bellatrix was a nosy bitch who didn't know how to mind her own business. He just wanted to go home and be alone in his dirty, sturdy castle without all the house-elves to bother him.
Only then he'd probably get lots of visits from Rabastan or something. Maybe. Walden was refraining from mentioning Remus Lupin, but Remus Lupin still existed and it had been two days since Rodolphus had talked to the stupid Aurors about Rabastan coming home and it had been in the papers and Lupin, the fag, had sent letters and a Christmas present and Walden was sure at least one of those letters was asking to visit.
He wasn't a fag. He wasn't jealous. That would be stupid. Walden walked into Rabastan's bedroom, where he'd set up camp for the time being, and sat next to Rabastan's bed. He was lying there while he recovered from being in a cage with very little to eat for a few weeks. "Did you get more letters today?"
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