"We were just talking and he fainted, I swear," Andromeda was insisting when Rabastan opened his eyes. He felt warm, a little weak, and the world swam in and out of focus, but he was able to make out her voice.

"Andi?" he croaked.

"Shh…" It wasn't Andromeda who spoke, but Rodolphus, and Rabastan felt his brother's warm, strong hand squeeze his own. A jolt of panic shocked him instantly – had Andromeda told about how he had hit her? She had said she was going to and Andromeda was hardly one to go back on promises, but surely if she had, Rodolphus would not have been so comforting…

God, how Rabastan wished he could take back what he had done.

"Andi," he said again, sitting up and moaning as his head spun. He pressed his fingers to his temples and drew deep, shuddering breaths, trying to steady himself.

"I ought to go," Andromeda said, and she sounded to Rabastan as though she was speaking from a very great distance away. "I promised Mother and Father I wouldn't be late to dinner when I went out today – they'll be worried."

"Yes, of course, go." Maria also sounded very far away, even further than Andromeda, and her voice faded out into an indiscernible whisper. For a moment, Rabastan strained to hear it, then he gave up and lay back, closing his eyes again.

For a few moments, everything was quiet, calm and silent, and then Rodolphus's voice sounded loudly in Rabastan's ear. "Rab, what happened?"

He jolted upright, clutching his head, which was pounding again at the noise. "Nothing! Nothing happened!"

"You fainted!" It was difficult for Rabastan to focus, but he thought that Rodolphus looked a little hurt. "You fainted and Andromeda had to drag you back here while you were unconscious – I think that counts as 'something happening'."

"But that's all, Rod," Rabastan insisted. "I just fainted, I do that all the time…" Even he thought that he sounded a bit sullen when he said that, but tried to shake the tone. "Don't worry about me…"

"You're my brother, Rab. Of course I'm going to worry about you."

"Well, don't!" Rabastan turned and glared at him, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Don't worry about me, don't feel sorry for me and don't baby me!"

"Rab, what's this–"

"I'm tired!" Rabastan's voice rose several notes and he was aware that he sounded hysterical but he didn't care. "I'm tired of you – and Mother and Father and Bellatrix and Andromeda and everyone – treating me like a child! I'm not!"

"Well, you do a good impression!" Rodolphus snapped, but Rabastan didn't care.

"You all act as though- just because I'm not strong, I'm not good for anything! You act as though I need to be- to be taken care of! Well, I don't! I'm not a child! I'm not a child!"

"Rabastan–"

"The Dark Lord understood!" he shouted, cutting Rodolphus off. "He could tell! He wanted me for a Death Eater – not Mother or Father or Bellatrix or Andromeda and certainly not you!"

The blood drained from Rodolphus's face. For a second, he looked shocked, then he stood up, backing away from Rabastan and looking furious.

"The Dark Lord doesn't understand," he spat. "He has dozens of Death Eaters; there's nothing about you that makes you different. And don't know that he didn't ask me to become a Death Eater either. So don't act like you're suddenly special just because he wants you to fight for him."

Rabastan didn't say anything and watched in silence as his brother stormed out.

I hit Andromeda. I insulted Rodolphus. God… He buried his face in his hands, sighing. It pained him to think that he was hurting people who he thought cared about them, but if this was the way they were going to act…

His stomach churned slightly, but not so much that it stopped him from dragging himself to his feet and making his way to the French doors that opened onto his balcony. He pulled them open and stepped outside, gripping the railing to keep himself upright. There was a wind blowing and dark, swirling clouds upon the horizon that had not been there when he had been outside with Andromeda.

A storm was coming.

Rabastan leaned on the railing and stared out at the moors. It felt like an eternity since he had been happy when he was out there – but then, maybe that was his own fault. Maybe if he just stopped trying to talk to Andromeda…

No, he couldn't do that.

He felt something wet on his cheek and touched it, slightly surprised. Tears?

Crying over Andromeda?

Why was he crying over Andromeda? Why waste tears on her?

She didn't want him to be a Death Eater – what could she do about it? She wasn't the one in charge of his life, nor the one who had to live it. If he wanted to serve the Dark Lord, he would.

Oh, he would…

He would have been so willing to serve, to prove – not only to the Dark Lord, but to himself, and most especially to his family – that he could be of just as much use as – and perhaps more than – any able-bodied man.

He propped his elbow on the railing and his chin on his hand and stared out across the moors, allowing himself to slip into happy fantasies of what he would do to serve the Dark Lord. He would learn to fight better than any man ever had, and his Lord would praise him…

It was, perhaps, nothing more than his imagination, but he was sure that he could hear the Dark Lord's voice in the wind as gazed at the sky and the curtains blew around him.

He would do more than any other Death Eater had ever done… serve his master like none of them would…

The thought made him breathless.

He turned, intending to go back inside, back to bed, but something caught his eye. He leaned over the edge of the balcony as far as he could, squinting to try to see more clearly and cursing his weak vision.

At first, he thought he might have imagined it, but no. Andromeda was there. Andromeda, who had said that she was going home to her parents, was standing out on the moors, close enough to Lestrange Manor that Rabastan could just see her form, a blurry figure upon the rolling horizon.

"Andromeda," he tried to call, but his voice was lost in the howling winds, and she could not have heard.

She was talking to someone.

He couldn't tell who it was – he couldn't even make a guess at the distance; the only reason he had recognized Andromeda was by the sea-green fabric of her skirt – but the figure looked distinctly male.

"Andromeda!" he shouted, raising his voice as loudly as it would go as though that would do any good. Andromeda didn't move, but unless Rabastan was very much mistaken, the person she was with – the boy that she was with – had reached out and laid a hand on her.

Rabastan couldn't watch.

He stumbled backwards and slammed the French doors so hard that the panes rattled in them, then yanked the drapes shut over them so he wouldn't have to see. Barely had they closed when he heard a clap of thunder, which made him jump and his heart beat wildly.

Would Andromeda be safe out on the moors during a thunderstorm? He had heard stories of people being electrocuted by lightning because there was nothing else around them, people struck down and killed and found weeks later with their corpses charred and blackened…

Dear God.

Perhaps he should go tell his parents that Andromeda was still outside–

But no. No, he would not do that. His lip curled derisively – the boy she was with could protect her, or if she had any sense at all, she'd get inside. And if she didn't, if the boy she was staying out in the storm to talk to didn't protect her, well then, it would be her own damn fault if she was struck down.

So heartless, Rabastan? asked a tiny, timid voice in his head, and Rabastan shuddered at the sound.

Yes. I will be as heartless as I please. The Dark Lord needs heartless men for his servants.

He turned his back on the window and strode purposefully to his bed, falling down onto it and pulling his quilt around him, curling up in the warm cocoon of blankets and closing his eyes. The gale was rattling the trees in his garden, shaking the glass of the windows, but Rabastan found it oddly comforting.

He hoped that the storm would force Andromeda inside. He hoped she had the sense to go in.

He hoped that it would force her inside so that she would leave the boy she was with and he wouldn't have to think about them anymore.