Rabastan pressed his hand swiftly over his mouth to silence the horrified gasp that he couldn't help letting out. Bellatrix had said that she was having an affair with the Dark Lord, yes, and he had hardly denied it, true, but seeing them, seeing Bellatrix…
His eyes were drawn to the Dark Mark on her arm – perhaps because it was less painful to look at that than to look at her leg around his lover's waist. The burns around the thin, black lines were still red and blistered. Rabastan reached down and gripped his own forearm instinctively, running his thumb over the scarred lines of his Mark through the fabric of his robes. His skin still smarted from when the Mark had burned just moments before.
Bellatrix was watching him. She had her head up now, her chin resting on the Dark Lord's shoulder, and a wicked smile curved her lips.
"Harder, Master."
The Dark Lord quickened his rhythm, and oh, Rabastan had to struggle not to think about how he would have liked to be in Bellatrix's place. She moaned theatrically, never breaking eye contact.
Rabastan felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to interrupt, but he couldn't even draw breath, much less form words, and he could feel hot tears prickling the backs of his eyes. It was almost unbearable to see the way Bellatrix and the Dark Lord – the Dark Lord, his lover – writhed together, how she moaned for him, how engrossed he seemed in the act of kissing her and embracing her and taking her. And yet, for how unbearable it was, he was unable to look away.
The Dark Lord moaned and shuddered. Did he look and sound like that when he climaxed with Rabastan? Or was that split-second of vulnerability with his release something that only Bellatrix was privy to? There was a look of absolute bliss on her face, an almost beatific smile as she continued to stare at Rabastan, and her thoughts were clear. I please him. I please him more than you do.
"Bella…" he murmured, and oh, God, it was much too intimate. Rabastan felt like crying. He also felt like throwing something at both of them, or like cursing them until they quivered on the floor like Druella had…
He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand here and watch them. Clearly, the Dark Lord didn't intend for him to be here – Rabastan wasn't sure how the Dark Mark worked, exactly, but surely there was room for error, because the Dark Lord couldn't – couldn't – have meant for him to see this.
Bellatrix had one arm resting around the Dark Lord's shoulders, and she lifted her fingers and wiggled them at Rabastan as he backed away – a mocking, juvenile gesture. He resisted the urge to gesture obscenely at her – she'd probably like it.
Rodolphus was still in bed when he returned, and Rabastan barely stepped into the room before Rodolphus was pulling him back onto the mattress.
"I didn't expect you back so soon," he murmured, tugging at his robes. "It's poor form to go running off in the middle of making love, you know."
"Sorry." Rabastan's voice cracked, and if Rodolphus noticed, he didn't comment. Rabastan couldn't remember the last time he had wanted so little to kiss his brother, but kiss him he did, and Rodolphus had him undressed and between his legs in a matter of seconds.
"You had me so frustrated," Rodolphus whispered huskily between heated kisses. "I thought he'd need you for hours – I worried you'd finish off with him…"
"Please." It was all he could do not to cry. "Please- don't- let's just–"
"Oh, of course, of course…"
Rabastan tried to muster the enthusiasm he had had before. He wanted to be good for Rodolphus, to please him, but with every stroke, all he could think of was the Dark Lord, taking Bellatrix against the wall.
Filthy, filthy slut, filthy whore, how could she…
It must only have been a few minutes from the time Rabastan got into the bed again and the time he finished, but it felt like several agonizing hours, and when it was finally over, and Rodolphus rolled him onto his side and curled against him, Rabastan finally started to cry.
"Rab?" Rodolphus's voice was soft, hazy and sleepy at first, but it went quite alert and urgent when Rabastan didn't answer. "Rab, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"
"I- I–" He gulped, trying to force words out at the same time that he tried to think what to say. "It's the Dark Lord…"
"What? What about him?" When Rabastan didn't respond immediately, Rodolphus turned him over to face him and shook him. "What about him, Rab? Did he threaten you? Did- did he hurt you?" The look of fear on Rodolphus's face shocked him, and he shook his head hurriedly.
"Nothing like that…"
"Then what? What?"
"He was–" Rabastan gulped. He didn't want to tell. But Rodolphus's panicked expression told him that he needed to know. "I- saw them. He- was- with her…"
The blood drained from Rodolphus's face.
"With…"
"Bellatrix." He swallowed, fresh tears stinging his eyes – God, he felt stupid, crying over what he should already have known to be true. "He was with Bellatrix. With her," he added, emphasising with in an attempt to convey what they had been doing without actually having to say it.
Rodolphus slumped back against the pillows and let out a long, low sigh, then pulled Rabastan gently against him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rab."
"It's not your fault," he sniffed.
"Maybe if I was a better husband–"
"She doesn't deserve you!" Rabastan's voice rose a few notes, almost hysterically. "She- she doesn't deserve you or him!"
Rodolphus fell silent, but held Rabastan gently against him, stroking his hair slowly. Then, after several long moments, he quietly said, "You'd hate me if I told you what I was thinking right now."
"I wouldn't hate you for anything," Rabastan mumbled, his throat choked with tears.
Rodolphus hesitated, his hand going still on Rabastan's head, then he said, "I'm glad you saw. I'm glad you- you saw them together."
"What?" Rabastan's head jerked up and he stared at his brother, appalled. "How- how can you say that?"
"I don't say it because I want you to be hurt, Rab! It's just…" Rodolphus caught his wrist in his hand and squeezed it gently, his fingers brushing against the lines of the Dark Mark. "I don't like to think of you being involved with him."
"What are you talking about?"
"Rab, he's teaching you Unforgivable Curses." His voice was low and urgent. "Teaching you how to use them! If you got caught…"
"I won't get caught."
"You can't know that!" He tightened his grip and Rabastan winced. "All it would take would be one person to tell… and you'd be sent straight to Azkaban, and there wouldn't be anything anyone could do about it. There wouldn't be anything that I could do about it."
Rabastan didn't say anything, and after a moment's tense silence, Rodolphus continued. "And it's not just that. Rab… Rab, you have read the things the Daily Prophet reports about him, haven't you? You know the sorts of things he's done…"
"Don't tell me you're starting to sympathize with Mudbloods and Muggles too?" Andromeda was a woman, and a woman in a weak mental state at that; Rabastan could excuse such foolishness from her, but the thought of his own brother having sympathy for those savages, those barbarians, those animals…
"No! I don't give a damn what he does to them – they have it coming, we both know! He's got the right idea about them. I mean what he does to his followers."
Rodolphus trailed off, and Rabastan felt a slight twist in his stomach.
"What do you mean, what he does to his followers?"
"It's in the papers if you look for it," Rodolphus said quietly. "I've been reading – I've been paying attention for your sake. Every so often, someone comes out and calls themselves a Death Eater in public and the paper prints it, sometimes with a few other things they share about him or about what the Death Eaters do… and a few days later, there's a death report."
Rabastan swallowed.
"Coincidences."
"If it happened once, maybe. Maybe even two or three times. But Rab, it's happened over and over again."
"Well." Rabastan's voice shook horribly, and he swallowed and tried to keep it steady. "Well, we aren't supposed to go spreading information about him, obviously. I know not to go talking to the papers. That's just good common sense…"
"And what if he decides that there are other reasons to kill a Death Eater? Who would stop him if he decided that he didn't want you anymore?"
"Why wouldn't he?"
"I'm just asking, Rab! Do you really understand what you're getting mixed up in?"
Rabastan sat up. His heart was beating fast, so fast that the rush of blood was making him dizzy.
"I know exactly what I'm getting mixed up in," he said, and took great care to speak confidently, even if he didn't feel confident at all. "What does it matter if he disposes of people he doesn't think are useful anymore? I'll just never give him any reason not to think I'm useful."
"And how do you plan to do that?"
The unspoken addition hung between them. How do you plan to do that when you can't even keep him as a faithful lover?
Rabastan looked down at his arm so he wouldn't have to meet his brother's eyes. The skull grinned back up at him, almost mockingly, almost like Bellatrix had grinned.
"I just want you to be safe."
"I know."
"And I'm afraid I won't be able to protect you from him."
Rabastan said nothing.
"I don't suppose you can get out now," Rodolphus said, and he reached over and touched Rabastan's Mark. "Not even after what you saw."
"No. I can't."
Rodolphus fell silent and sank back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Rabastan lay beside him, and he put his arm around his shoulders and held him close. Neither of them said anything, and Rabastan eventually drifted to sleep in his brother's arms. When he woke up, Rodolphus's eyes were already open, and he was still staring at the same spot on the ceiling, as if he had never fallen asleep or moved all night long.
