Rabastan didn't sleep at all that night. He just couldn't – when he did drift off, he had terrible dreams from which he awoke with his heart beating fast and sweat pouring from his forehead. He would have gone to Rodolphus, but for the fact that even though he couldn't remember the details of his dreams when he woke up, he was quite sure that Rodolphus featured prominently in them.

So he tossed and turned until dawn and clung to a pillow in lieu of his brother and when the sun finally rose, he was stiff and aching and miserable. It took all his strength to heave himself out of bed and stumble down the corridor, towards the lavatory.

He stopped dead when he heard noises from his brother's room.

At first, he thought that Rodolphus must have been hurt or sick, because the noises were soft groans. His heart skipped a beat – Rodolphus couldn't be sick. Rodolphus wasn't ever sick. Rodolphus was there to take care of him when he was sick.

"Rod?" he whispered, but his voice was so quiet that he couldn't even hear himself, much less expect his brother to through a door.

But then he heard a distinctly feminine moan and suddenly he was desperately, desperately hoping that his brother was sick, because that was far better than the alternative.

He stepped up to the door and pressed his ear against it. His heart felt as though it was in his throat and his hands shook slightly as he tried to balance himself.

"Oh, Rod…"

That was Bellatrix's voice, Rabastan was positive, and the thought made his stomach clench with disgust. He turned the door handle and pushed it a few inches open.

Rodolphus was on the bed and Rabastan drew in a swift hiss of breath. There was a blanket covering his brother from the waist down – which was a mercy, because Rabastan was terrified of what his reaction might have been if he had seen Rodolphus without the blanket – and he was pressing Bellatrix down into the pillows. Her face was flushed and her eyelids lowered and it was very clearly she who had been moaning.

"You like that?" Rodolphus murmured. His voice was low and gravelly and Rabastan bit his lip hard. He had never heard his brother talk like that and he would have been lying if he had said that he didn't think it was rather…

"Mm hmm…" Bellatrix moaned, arching her back. She wrapped her arms around Rodolphus, clinging to him while he thrust hard against her. Rabastan felt flushed and a little dizzy and his trousers felt uncomfortably tight.

"I want you so much, Rod, so much…" Bellatrix continued breathlessly. "I– oh Rod…"

Shut up! Rabastan wanted to snap at her. She had no right to talk to his brother that way – like he was her husband instead of just her fiancé. It made him sick. He wanted her to be quiet.

He couldn't stand hearing anyone else moaning his brother's name.

She kicked the blankets back and an almost painful throb went through Rabastan's lower body as they fell away. Her legs wrapped around Rodolphus, but Rabastan could not even bring himself to be annoyed anymore – not now, not when he was gazing at his brother's strong, muscular body…

No. No, he wasn't thinking about his brother like that – that was sick! He would not think about Rodolphus that way. He would only think about women – no, even thinking about men wouldn't have been so bad if only it weren't his brother that he was thinking of…

"We have an audience, Rod," Bellatrix breathed, and Rabastan stiffened. He had been so distracted, so mesmerized by Rodolphus and by reminding himself not to think that way, that he had not noticed her looking at him. Her dark eyes glittered and she looked quite mad with her dark hair a mess over her shoulders.

"Mmm?" Rodolphus's head had been bowed and he had been facing away from Rabastan, but at Bellatrix's words, he looked up and at the door.

"I– I wasn't–" Rabastan began, but Rodolphus took no interest in his protests.

"Get out!" he shouted, grabbing at the blankets and pulling them up over himself and Bellatrix. "Get out, Rabastan – now!"

Rabastan had never known his brother to sound so angry before, and certainly never at him. It made his heart ache that he had upset Rodolphus, who was the only person who he really cared about…

"I'm sorry," he whispered, backing away. "I– I'm sorry–"

"Don't say that you're sorry!" Bellatrix told him, and he clenched his fists. Hearing Rodolphus tell him off and shout at him, that was one thing, but this was his home and not Bellatrix's and she had absolutely no right to talk that way.

"Out, Rabastan!" Rodolphus ordered again and Rabastan stumbled back, trying to hide the tears that were already springing to his eyes.

She had stayed the night. His brother had had Bellatrix stay for the night.

And he had…

Up until that point, Rabastan had been able to convince himself that there was a chance – slight, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless – that Rodolphus had no interest in Bellatrix. It was a stupid thing to hope, he knew, because she was beautiful and Rodolphus was just like every other man who could be transformed into a pathetic mess by a pretty girl, but he had really thought that his brother had better sense than that. Even though they were betrothed, even though Rabastan knew that Rodolphus wasn't going to try to break off the engagement, he had hoped that his brother had only been going through with the marriage because of a sense of duty, not because he wanted Bellatrix. It had been easy enough to believe – after all, Rodolphus had hardly seemed genuinely happy about the marriage, but now…

If he was sleeping with her, it meant that he wanted to be married.

Rabastan dragged himself into the lavatory and splashed cold water on his face. He felt so terribly tired and he felt so ill that he actually wished that he had something in his stomach that he could vomit up. That would make him feel better…

No, it wouldn't.

Nothing would make him feel better then.

Nothing except seeing Rodolphus pushing Bellatrix away, nothing except knowing that his brother didn't want her. Nothing except feeling safe and secure in the knowledge that he was the person who his brother cared about and that Bellatrix was nothing…

But there was no point in hoping for that.

Perhaps, Rabastan thought, leaning against the sink, taking deep breaths and trying to push the image of Rodolphus and Bellatrix tangled on the bed out of his mind, sex with someone like Bellatrix would just be so incredible that even someone as stoic and logical as Rodolphus could be couldn't turn away the opportunity. Rabastan had no experience, after all – perhaps it was wrong of him to expect his brother to turn away the opportunity to make love to her. Perhaps sex with a woman – with Bellatrix, such a beautiful woman, specifically – was so many leaps and bounds and miles better than relying on one's own hand for pleasure that it would have been truly unreasonable for Rabastan to expect anyone to turn it down.

But he couldn't quite believe that that was the case.

Perhaps his brother simply wasn't as intelligent as he had always thought that he was.

He wiped his brow and scowled at his reflection in the mirror. And why was this upsetting him so? It was foolish of him. He would be married too, soon enough, and then this whole matter would be irrelevant, really. He would fall in love with Andromeda and all thoughts of his brother would be pushed from his mind…

Ha.

No, Andromeda wasn't ever going to be able to push away thoughts of Rodolphus.

Rabastan knew that perfectly well.

But he could still hope. He could hope that he would learn to love her and take interest only in her…

The lavatory door flew open and Rabastan whipped around. Rodolphus was standing there, looking livid, and just the expression on his face made Rabastan want to crumple up and hide or die.

"What did you think you were doing?" Rodolphus demanded through gritted teeth. "Spying on us?"

"I heard moaning," Rabastan said quietly. He didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I wanted to be sure that everything was all right."

"That's a lie and you and I both know it!" Rodolphus snarled. "You knew perfectly well what we were doing! Did you just want to humiliate us? To humiliate me?"

Yes.

"Of course not."

"What – were you getting off on it, then?" he demanded, and he sounded positively venomous. Rabastan stepped back, feeling a little knot of panic in his chest. "Just enjoying watching us?"

"No!" he insisted, quickly moving one hand to shield the bulge in his trousers. "That's sick, Rod – why would you even think that about me?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rodolphus hissed. "Maybe because, just yesterday, you were–"

Rodolphus broke off and for a moment, Rabastan wasn't sure why, but then he heard his father calling from downstairs.

"Rabastan, come down. I want a word with you."

"Is that Father?" Rabastan asked quietly, though he knew full well that it was. But Joseph had never called for Rabastan before – not in his memory, in any case. Talk between father and son was not something that often occurred in the Lestrange family – if a message needed to be relayed from Rabastan to Joseph, Rabastan would tell Rodolphus, who would tell Maria, who would tell her husband.

"Rabastan, downstairs. Now."

He cast a nervous glance at Rodolphus, who looked as confused as he felt, but there was nothing that he could do. He could not refuse his father.

"Coming!" he called out, then gave Rodolphus an anxious, confused glance and brushed past him, shivering a little as he headed down the staircase. Joseph was standing in the foyer with a grim expression.

"Come into my study," he said quietly. "There is something that we need to discuss. Father to son."