This collection in it's entirety is written for the Big Sis/Lil Sis Competition on HPFC.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius, Word: forgotten, Song: Lover of the Light by Mumford and Sons (inspired the ending), Item: candle, Emotion: grief, Sentence: You chose to break my heart.
Written by Lil' Sis Laura.
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"Rabastan Lestrange." The words slip from pale lips smooth as silk.
Rabastan bows deeply. "My Lord."
A faint smile flitters across those pale lips as the Dark Lord looks Rabastan up and down. It's a cruel, possessive smile, and it makes Rodolphus want to take his little brother away, out of here, out of range. But then, that has always been his urge when it comes to Rabastan: shield him in a corner and don't let him get hurt. But this… Rabastan has a chance to matter, and Rodolphus will not be the one to take that away from him. He is undeniably proud.
Rabastan keeps his chin tipped low but looks up through his lashes, sees the faint smile and smiles back. For a moment, only a moment, Rodolphus thinks that's going to be it. There's an… innocence, in Rabastan's smile. When he smiles he looks manipulable, and that is weakness.
But then the Dark Lord speaks.
"You think you are prepared to be a Death Eater?"
Keeping his head tightly down, Rabastan murmurs softly, "I can only hope so, my Lord."
The cruel smile doesn't fade as the Dark Lord pulls out his wand.
"Crucio."
Rodolphus barely holds his position, wanting desperately to move to his brother, to stop this, but knowing he cannot. Knowing that attempting to stop it would only cause Rabastan more pain in the end, would only get Rodolphus involved as well.
Rabastan falls to his knees. His muscles lock, taut. A small whimper escapes his lips, and for the second time, Rodolphus thinks it is over. Thinks that Rabastan has failed, that his brother will die tonight.
But nothing happens. The Dark Lord continues to hold the curse and Rabastan remains curled tightly into a ball, still on his knees. He makes no more noise. For a moment, Rodolphus actually wonders if Rabastan has already died.
But then, much later, too much later, far later than any other potential recruit, the Dark Lord lifts the curse.
Rabastan collapses onto the stone floor, gasping for breath, his lungs struggling for air. His chest dips in and out in shallow, fluttering movements. Once more, Rodolphus is struck by the urge to go to him, but he restrains himself.
The Dark Lord rises from his chair and steps toward Rabastan. He stops, merely a pace in front of him, and lifts a foot. For a moment, Rodolphus thinks the Dark Lord may kick him. Instead, he uses the foot to tip Rabastan's chin, forcing the trembling man to look at him.
Rodolphus isn't sure what he sees in those eyes, but whatever it is, it pleases the Dark Lord.
"Your arm, Rabastan."
With visible effort, Rabastan heaves himself back on his knees and bares his left arm, offering it up. The Dark Lord's wand digs deep into the sensitive skin of his forearm and black lines bleed like paint from the point it contacts. Rodolphus knows from experience that the sensation burns worse than anything he has experienced before or since, but Rabastan doesn't make a sound.
Rodolphus feels his pride grow.
"Stand," the Dark Lord commands when he is finished. Rabastan rises on shaky feet.
This time the Dark Lord tips his chin with long, slim fingers, forcing Rabastan to meet his eyes once more. "Do not be caught unaware again."
It is undoubtably a command, and not one that should be forgotten. Not one that will be forgiven, Rodolphus knows. Not a second time. Rabastan murmurs softly, "I will not, my Lord."
The Dark Lord nods, letting go of his chin. "Good."
He turns around sharply and makes his way back to his chair, waving his hand in a clear sign of dismissal.
Rabastan keeps his chin tipped up as he exits the room, but Rodolphus knows his brother well enough to know that it isn't pride — it's a show. He wants to look proud.
He does it well. Rodolphus might almost believe it, if he didn't know Rabastan as well as he does.
Slipping out of the room after his brother, Rodolphus catches his wrist — the right one, of course the right one. "Rab…"
There is something in Rabastan's gaze that Rodolphus can't quite place, though. A sort of… fierce determination Rodolphus has never seen there before.
And Rodolphus comes, quite abruptly, to the realisation that his little brother is not so little anymore. Rabastan doesn't need babying anymore.
And that's slightly terrifying for Rodolphus. He doesn't know how else to treat Rabastan, honestly. It's scary to think that his brother doesn't need him anymore.
But Rabastan meets Rodolphus's eyes and then, after searching Rodolphus's eyes, escapes his grip and walks away.
And Rodolphus lets him.
