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Written for Assignment 4; Gardening, Task 2 - Someone who wants to be smaller, shorter or slimmer.

Word Count - 606

The Sharp Sting Of Lost Innocence

When he'd been younger, Rabastan had been so impatient to grow up. He wanted to be bigger, stronger, smarter, just like his big brother.

He'd idolised Rodolphus for as long as he could remember, and in turn, Rodolphus had always been there for him. He'd been the one that fixed Rabastan up when he fell, the one to teach him to read, the one to help him understand the basics of magic that all Purebloods were instructed on in their youth.

Rodolphus had been the one to shelter Rabastan from their father's vicious temper too, though Rabastan hadn't known until later.

Until he was grown enough to feel the sharp sting of his father's hand on his cheek.

The year Rodolphus went to Hogwarts, Rabastan had cried at the train station. He'd waved until the train was no longer in sight, and then his mother had cleaned him up and warned him to pull himself together before they got home.

Rabastan hadn't understood why his mother was so adamant that he show no sign of his sadness in front of his father. Surely his father would understand that Rabastan missed his brother.

Surely his father would be there to step in and take over Rodolphus' teaching with Rabastan, now that his brother was no longer there.

Later, Rabastan would realise that those had been the thoughts of naivety and innocence. They didn't last long after Rodolphus left.

The fist was unexpected. His father had been yelling, though Rabastan wasn't entirely sure what about. Rabastan had cowered in front of him though, as his face reddened with anger and he got louder.

He'd been looking at the floor when the fist met his cheek, and he stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. His cheek burned, and he raised his hand to lay it against the painful area. He felt… he didn't know how he felt.

Shocked? Surprised? Betrayed? Wounded?

All of the above and so much more. His father stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head with disgust before he stalked out of the room without a backwards glance.

Rabastan slid down the wall, pressing himself into the corner of the room, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could.

He curled in on himself, and he cried. Cried because it hurt, cried because he didn't know what else to do, cried because Rodolphus wasn't here to fix it like he always had before.

If he'd known when he was small that he would be growing up to this, he wouldn't have been so impatient to be bigger, stronger or smarter.

Rodolphus came home for Christmas and held him tightly for long minutes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, against Rabastan's hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to shield you from this."

He was only a little over a year older that Rabastan, but he'd always seemed much older, much wiser, much stronger.

Rabastan wondered if he'd ever curled up in a corner to cry the way Rabastan did often, but he found it unlikely. In Rabastan's mind, Rodolphus would take their father's anger and stand firm in the face of it.

Brave. Defiant. Protective.

Standing in Rodolphus' embrace, Rabastan could, for a moment, pretend to be small again. He could shrink in on himself, because Rodolphus was there to look after him again, to shield and protect him from everything that was bad.

"Come on," Rodolphus said, pulling back just enough that he could look down at Rabastan. "I've got some things from Hogwarts to show you."

And just like that, Rabastan felt safe. This was normal. This was home.

Written for;

365 - 26. Unlikely

1000 - 338. Curling up in a corner to cry.