For Gamma.
Also for As Strong As We are United (team numero dos) and Represent That Character (word count 1169)
"We tend to bruise too easily, bad in the blood."
-Amanda Palmer, "Runs In the Family"
Rabastan cannot remember the last time he's been out, so free, in the dead of winter. Still, he's unable to enjoy it. His dark eyes keep shifting over his shoulder towards home. Any moment now, his mother will notice that he's gone. The house elf will be sent to fetch him, and Rabastan will have to listen to the same old lecture about how he should be more careful, how he's far too fragile to be out in the cold.
"Trying to catch your death?" his brother calls, sneaking up behind him. "Mother will have a fit if she knew."
Rabastan groans. He'd only managed to slip out of the house for maybe five minutes. "I'm fine Rod," he insists, folding his arms over his chest. "You can tell Mother as much."
"Mother is currently taking a nap," Rodolphus says, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. "So, what she doesn't know won't hurt her."
His brother's words surprise him. Rodolphus has always followed their parents' orders to keep a close hold on Rabastan. Even at Hogwarts, Rodolphus would watch him like a hawk and scold him whenever the younger boy would overexert himself.
"I reckon she'll be out for an hour," he continues, tipping his head to the side in thought and tapping his chin, a low hum in his throat. "Better say thirty minutes, to be safe. So, that gives us maybe fifteen, so we can have you back inside and safe before she wakes."
Rabastan finds himself smiling. No more looking out the window at the snow and longing to go out like all the others. "What made you change your mind?" he asks. "You never go against Mother and Father's wishes."
Rodolphus reaches out, ruffling his younger brother's hair. "You've got that kicked puppy look. I can't resist. Now, come on. Quit wasting time and go have fun."
..
Rabastan runs, skidding and slipping on the icy, snow-slick ground.
"Have to do better than that!" Rodolphus yells, sending a snowball crashing against the younger boy's chest.
Blinking against the small explosion of snow, Rabastan laughs, bending down to scoop up snow. Without bothering to craft it into a ball, he slings it in his brother's direction. "Cold?" he laughs, running towards Rodolphus and slipping on an ice patch, sending him crashing against his brother.
The two tumble, Rodolphus landing on top of Rabastan. He grins down at him. "Very cold, actually," he confirms. "You should warm me up."
Rabastan grabs his shoulders, pulling him close. "I think I can do that," he murmurs, lifting his head so that their lips brush.
"If you call that warming me up, I may have to disown you," Rodolphus teases, pushing Rabastan down and pinning his shoulders to the frozen ground. "I know I've taught you better than that."
Before Rabastan can answer, Rodolphus' lips crush against his own, silencing any clever remark he might have. Rabastan groans, lips parting as warmth floods his body. For a moment, he can forget the cold. He can forget that he's sick, that he has traitorous lungs. Because in that moment, there is only Rodolphus.
"Always wanted to fuck in the snow," Rodolphus says, his voice half growl, half pant.
"Why haven't you?" Rabastan wonders.
Rodolphus tucks his thumbs into Rabastan's belt loops and eases his trousers down. Cold air against exposed, sensitive skin sends a jolt through Rabastan's body, and he whimpers.
"Because you aren't supposed to be out in the cold," Rodolphus reminds him, his hands ghosting down Rabastan's thigh.
His hands aren't quite warm, but they're much more welcome than the chill of the air. Rabastan closes his eyes, gasping as Rodolphus moves his hand slowly downward, pushing his trousers down along the way. "R-right," he says, hissing as snow finds his bare skin.
One sharp intake of breath, and he jerks wildly, coughing violently. His body shakes, and he turns his head, trying not to cough on his brother.
Rabastan tries to stop. If he can get it under control, maybe he can convince Rodolphus that he's okay, that it isn't an attack. But the coughing won't stop, and small droplets of red fly from between his lips, staining the once pure snow.
"Shit."
"'m fine, Rod," Rabastan says, but the words are too choked to convince anyone.
"Shit." And it becomes a frantic chant as Rodolphus climbs to his feet, scooping the younger boy into his arms. "I'm sorry. I should have known."
"Rod-"
But Rabastan can't say much more. His throat is too raw, and a fresh coughing fit rocks through his body.
..
"What were you thinking?" he hears his mother scream in the other room. "You know Rabastan is sick! You're supposed to look after him, Rodolphus, not encourage him to kill himself!"
"Master must drink," the old house elf says, gently pressing the vial to the boy's lips. "Master must be getting better now."
Grudgingly, Rabastan drinks the potion, wincing as his brother's voice joins the yelling in the next room.
"I was just trying to make him happy!"
"He doesn't need to be happy! He needs to be healthy!"
"You can't just keep him caged up in here. He's not your fucking prisoner!"
Rabastan hears the distinct sound of a palm cracking against flesh. Blinking back tears as though he's the one who's been struck, he sinks back against the mattress, pressing a pillow over his head to drown out the war waging within his home.
..
"I'm sorry," Rabastan whispers when Rodolphus sits beside him on the edge of the bed.
"For what?" he asks, pressing the back of his hand to Rabastan's forehead. "Still a bit warm."
"I got you in trouble."
Rodolphus shakes his head before leaning back and stretching out over the blanket beside him. "Not your fault. I'm the one who let you stay out."
"But it's because you said I looked like a kicked puppy," Rabastan insists, wishing his brother would get angry with him and ease his guilt.
"You didn't use the Imperius Curse on me. I made my choice willingly, and I stand by it," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Rabastan sighs. "I wish I could be normal."
"Why the hell would you want that? Normal is boring," Rodolphus says.
"Normal people don't have stupid lungs that don't want to work right," Rabastan answers grimly, lips pulled into a frown.
"That's not being normal. That's being healthy," the older boy says.
Rabastan shrugs. He thinks that normal and healthy are the same thing, but he knows that there's no convincing Rodolphus.
His brother curls against him, resting his head on Rabastan's chest. "You're going to be okay, okay?" he murmurs, lips tickling the younger boy's skin through the gaps in the spaces between his buttons. "I promise."
"That's a big promise."
"Yeah, well I made it. I'll make sure of it."