Rabastan did not leave his room all day. He lay in bed, blankets wrapped around him in a tight cocoon, drifting between fitful sleep and brooding about what Rodolphus had said about marriage. Maria and Rodolphus had the decency not to disturb him for lunch – or perhaps they simply could not be bothered, he thought – and Rabastan was left in merciful peace until suppertime came. He listened to his mother's airy calls with every intention of ignoring them, feeling a rush of relief when they ceased, only to hear his brother's footsteps outside the room a moment later.
"Rab," Rodolphus said, pushing the door open gently. "Mother's been calling. It's suppertime, you know."
"I don't care," Rabastan said flatly. "I want to stay in bed. I'm not hungry."
"What's wrong?" asked Rodolphus. He moved over and sat on the edge of Rabastan's bed, pulling the blankets back a little so he could look at his brother. "Is this about me getting married?"
"No," Rabastan lied, but his voice cracked a little and he sniffed, his chin beginning to wobble.
"Christ, Rab…" Rodolphus reached over and took Rabastan's hand, squeezing it tightly. His fingers felt warm and solid, and Rabastan managed to muster a small smile at his brother's touch. "Listen… I don't want this to turn into a fight. Mother and Father won't exactly take kindly to you sulking about it, you know."
"I'm not sulking," Rabastan objected, but that sounded petulant and childish.
"Don't give me that, Rab. You and I both know it's not true."
Rabastan pulled his pillow over his head. "Go away, Rod. Tell Mother and Father that I'm ill."
"Rab…"
"I said to go away!"
"Do you think you could try not to act like a six-year-old for a few hours?" Rodolphus asked, his voice suddenly turning sharp. "What is it about me getting married bothers you so much anyhow? What's upsetting you about it? Is it that it means that you're finally going to have to start thinking about marriage too? Or are you just jealous because you know eventually there's going to be someone else who I love?"
Rabastan seethed. "Do you really think I'm that pathetic?" he demanded from under his covers. "You think I'd be jealous of Bellatrix? Of any woman?"
"Well, when you're acting like this, you do come off pretty bloody pathetic, which you would know if you listened to yourself."
Rabastan said nothing.
"Just come down for dinner," Rodolphus said at last, sighing. "Mother and Father are waiting, and you're not going to change anything by going hungry."
Rabastan bit his tongue to stop himself protesting, clenched his fists in his sheets to stop himself hitting, and sat up, pushing the blankets off. His shirt clung to his skin, sweaty from being curled under thick covers for so long. He glanced quickly in the mirror, then stormed out, not looking at his brother.
Maria and Joseph were already at the dinner table.
"Are you all right, darling?" Maria asked, false concern all over her pretty face. "We were worried about you."
"No you weren't," Rabastan said under his breath, quietly enough that they would not hear.
"The boy's fine, Maria," Joseph said dismissively. "There's no need to baby him. He's not a child anymore."
No, I'm not.
Rabastan kept his eyes down as he took his seat at the table, and listened to the scraping of the chair against the floor when Rodolphus sat beside him. He only glanced up when he heard Maria clear her throat and the soft rustling of everyone folding their hands upon the table in prayer.
Maria recited a quick and rather cursory grace, thanking the Lord for the food before them, though Rabastan saw no use when they all knew better than to believe in God, then she looked impatiently to the kitchen doors, where House-elves were struggling to bring out dishes heavy with rich food.
"Hurry up," Maria told them, snapping her fingers, then let out a little sigh of relief when her plate was set safely before her.
Rabastan gazed dully at his meal. It looked like swan, decorated with glazed vegetables cut into the shapes of flowers, and though fowl was one thing that Rabastan could usually eat without feeling ill, he could not bring himself to so much as pick up his fork. The decorations looked garish, and the meat itself had an unpleasant sheen from the honey glaze that had been put on the carrots and cucumbers.
"I spoke to Cygnus Black today," Joseph said, breaking the all-too-familiar stony silence that had begun to settle over the Lestranges' table.
Rabastan's head snapped up at the mention of Cygnus, and he looked at Rodolphus, who did not even glance at him. This could only mean more discussion of marriage.
"What about?" Rodolphus asked.
"About your marriage. According to Cygnus, Bellatrix would be a very suitable bride indeed, just as we thought."
No, no, God, no…
"And she is very fond of you, Rodolphus," Maria added.
"It would be an excellent match, don't you think?" said Joseph
Rabastan opened his mouth to protest, but Rodolphus had already spoken.
"Yes, it would."
It was like the world had fallen away beneath Rabastan. He felt a swooping in his stomach, and if he had eaten so much as a bite, he was quite sure he would have vomited. Stars swam before his eyes.
"You would be willing to marry her, then?" Maria sounded almost surprised.
"If Father believes that it would be a good match…"
"I don't want Rodolphus to get married!" Rabastan burst out. He had been trying his hardest to stay silent, but he couldn't listen to his brother say things like that. "Bellatrix would be a terrible match for Rodolphus!"
"Why, Rabastan, I'm surprised," said Maria. "I always thought you got on rather well with Bellatrix."
"No!" If they had in the past, Rabastan could forget that entirely. She had committed the worst sin imaginable by being a suitable match for his brother. "She's not good enough! She– Mother, you're always talking about her improper behaviour!"
"Where did you hear that?" Maria demanded. "Have you been listening at doors?"
"No," Rabastan said automatically.
"Rabastan Lestrange! I thought I had taught you manners!"
"You haven't taught me anything," Rabastan muttered. "You don't even know I exist half the time. Rod's the one who's taught me manners. You don't care."
"Do not speak to your mother like that!" Joseph ordered. "There will be no more talk. Rabastan, you are clearly unable to behave reasonably. Now eat your dinner, and then you will go to your bedroom and not come out until breakfast.
Hot tears prickled the backs of Rabastan's eyes, he would not let his brother – or his father – see them fall. He kept his face stony, even managed a bit of a proud expression, and stared down at his meal.
The mere thought of putting meat into his mouth right now made his stomach turn.
He glanced up, around at his family. All of them were looking quite resolutely at their plates, away from him.
Hesitating, watching his parents closely, Rabastan moved the plate closer to the edge of the table. He spread his napkin upon his lap, picked up his fork, and slowly, carefully, began knocking pieces of food down into the fabric, a few at a time, between paranoid glances at his parents and brother.
His plate was almost empty when Rodolphus suddenly looked up at him, and he had to quickly skewer a chunk of meat and shove it into his mouth. It had gone cold and could have done with a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper, but Rabastan chewed it as though it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.
Rodolphus did not look away until he'd swallowed.
When he was no longer being observed, Rabastan wasted no time dropping the last few pieces of food into his napkin, then quickly gathering it up into a bundle that could be concealed in his hand. The meat he had eaten sat heavily in his stomach like a lead weight.
"May I please be excused?" he asked, and when Joseph gave him a curt nod of assent, he all but ran upstairs to flush his dinner down the toilets and gag himself until he tasted acid and his stomach felt light and empty again.