Rabastan sat in bed, feeling sick, for a long time. He should have just told Andromeda that he didn't want to sleep with her. She probably would have been relieved if he had. It would have saved them both trouble and discomfort.
How were they ever going to manage it when they got married?
Rabastan couldn't bear the thought of going to bed with Andromeda again. He couldn't bear the idea of having to do it over and over again for the rest of his life – that would surely drive him completely mad. Perhaps there was a chance that she wouldn't want to do it either, but would either of them have the nerve to tell the other that they didn't want it for fear of offending them? Rabastan didn't want to say to Andromeda that he didn't want to go to bed with her because he didn't hate her and he was sure that she would take it as hatred if he said that he didn't desire her, and he suspected that Andromeda would not want to tell him that she didn't want to go to bed with him because she believed that he fancied women…
It would all just be so much easier if they didn't have to be married.
But if they weren't married, then what would happen? Rabastan wouldn't be able to tell Rodolphus how much he loved him – would he have to be alone for the rest of his life? Was there a chance that he would ever fall in love with anyone else?
No. No, he didn't think so.
Rabastan sighed quietly and stood up. He looked in his mirror and smoothed his hair down, wondering if, if he went downstairs, people would be able to tell what he and Andromeda had just been doing. Did he have the same just fucked look about him that Rodolphus and Bellatrix got when they had been together?
If he did, he couldn't see it.
His hands felt numb and unresponsive as he pulled his shirt and trousers back on. Doing up the buttons was a trial, for he could barely stop his fingers from shaking.
He wanted Rodolphus.
He wanted to curl up in Rodolphus's arms and cry into his shoulder and tell him everything.
But he couldn't tell him everything. He would never be able to tell Rodolphus everything. But he would still – he could still – tell Rodolphus that he had tried to make love to Andromeda and hadn't enjoyed it. Surely, Rodolphus would be able to offer some sympathy to that at least.
And if Rodolphus didn't understand why that had upset him so much, he would pretend. He would hold his little brother and comfort him because Rodolphus always held and comforted him.
Rabastan glanced in the mirror once more before slipping out and starting down the stairs. He was already forming ideas of what he could say to Rodolphus – how he could tell him that he had just lost his virginity to Andromeda, and how little he had enjoyed it.
Rabastan could hear his brother's voice in the parlour and reached for the door, but his hand stilled briefly and he stopped to listen to who Rodolphus was talking to. He didn't want to burst in on him and Bellatrix – not when he had something so personal and important to tell him. He wanted Rodolphus alone.
But when Rodolphus broke off, interrupted by the person he was conversing with, Rabastan didn't hear Bellatrix's voice.
He heard his mother's.
Rabastan pressed his ear to the door and listened closely. His mother sounded tearful and a bit hysterical, and Rabastan's heartbeat sped.
"–Don't see anything wrong about it," Maria was saying. "It will all be for the best."
"I see something wrong." Rodolphus spoke quietly, more meekly than Rabastan was used to hearing his brother talk. "Please, Mother, surely you don't need–"
"I do need!" Maria interrupted sharply. "Your father is of no use and I need another son – yes, need one! Do you think that Rabastan will survive another five years? Do you believe that he will live long enough to carry on the line?"
"I will live long enough to carry on the line," Rodolphus said. Rabastan could tell that he was trying to keep his voice calm and unemotional, but he could hear a catch in it. And, Rabastan thought, why was Rodolpus not standing up for him? Why was he not saying that Rabastan was stronger and healthier than people believed, and that he would surely live a perfectly long and healthy life?
"With whom do you intend to carry on the line?" Maria spat. "With Bellatrix? Rodolphus, everyone knows that she- that her tastes do not run towards men…"
"That's not true!" interrupted Rodolphus, his voice rising. "That's just gossip, mother! Bellatrix and I have already lain together–"
"Time and again, yes, and she is not with child yet! What if she never gets with child? What if she is barren – then how will the line be carried on?"
"And what if I am the barren one?" Rodolphus asked. There was a sharp crack, flesh against flesh, and Rabastan jumped.
"You are not! You are strong, Rodolphus, and healthy – I know that you can…" Maria's voice turned softer, gentler. "Now please, Rodolphus, for me…"
Do what for me?
"Mother, I can't- it's wrong- and the child will not be strong–"
"The child will be stronger than Rabastan is," Maria said. "And what is so wrong about it?"
"You're my mother!"
"And?"
Silence fell inside the parlour. Rabastan held his breath, listening as closely as he could, and then he heard Rodolphus say, in a tiny, resigned whisper, "All right. I'll- I'll do it."
Rabastan heard Maria let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you… oh, thank you…"
There was a soft rustling from inside, and then a quiet, masculine moan.
Rodolphus's moan.
Rabastan felt as if his body was locked in place. A small part of his mind had already formed an idea of what was happening in the room – an idea that became more and more plausible with every passing moment of sighing and moaning and the sound of fabric against fabric. But he couldn't believe it – no, he couldn't. No after the things that Rodolphus had said about Bellatrix and Andromeda. He wouldn't do this.
Rabastan dropped to his knees and peered through the keyhole.
He had to twist his head at an odd direction and press his eye so hard against the keyhole that he was sure the door would leave bruises on his face before he could see what was happening in the parlour, and when he saw, his first instinct was to believe that his eyes were deceiving him.
Maria was lying upon the couch, her dark red hair fanning out on the cushion behind her head and a light flush upon her cheeks. Her bodice was pulled down in the front to reveal one soft, pale breast, and her skirts were lifted around her hips.
And lying between her legs, trousers undone and lowered and lips pressed against her nipple, lay Rodolphus.
Once Rabastan had seen them, once his mind had allowed him to comprehend the idea that his mother and his brother were lying together, he could not tear his eyes away. Maria's back arched as Rodolphus suckled at her, and she pressed her hand against the back of his thigh, drawing him close.
"In- inside me," she begged, her voice a breathless whisper. "Oh, my Rodolphus- take me."
Rodolphus pressed closer to her, one hand moving in between her legs, and Maria groaned, sounding perfectly delighted.
"Oh, yes, yes…"
Rabastan wrenched himself away from the keyhole. How could he watch this? It turned his stomach. To think that Rodolphus would lie with his own mother but not with him – surely to make love to his mother was a far worse crime than if he did it to his brother. Rodolphus might have children with Maria, children that would be born with disfigurements and weaknesses…
But not as weak as him.
That was what Maria had said. She meant to get with child from Rodolphus because whatever became of the child, it would not be as weak as him.
And Rodolphus – Rodolphus, the only person who ever said that Rabastan was strong or important or worth caring about at all – had said nothing to deny it. He had, if anything, agreed.
Tears stung Rabastan's eyes. He struggled to his feet – there was no use in waiting for his brother. He didn't want to talk about his experience with Andromeda while Rodolphus's thoughts were still on his mother. Perhaps he would talk to Rodolphus later, some other day, any time but then.
He dragged himself up the stairs, back to bed, and curled up in it. It smelled like Andromeda – her sweat, her juices, not the clean and familiar smells that Rabastan was used to.
Not like Rodolphus.
Rabastan was exhausted – physically, yes, for sex had been a strain for him – but emotionally, mentally. He slipped in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of being in bed and sometimes not. At some point, he must have begun to cry, because when he finally woke, he found his pillow wet.
Or perhaps he had not cried.
The first thing that Rabastan noticed after waking was the dampness on his pillow, but the second thing was the sound of quiet sobbing from very close to him. It took a great deal of strength for Rabastan to force his eyes open. When he did, he saw Rodolphus curled on the bed with tears running down his cheeks.
Rodolphus didn't cry.
"Rod?" Rabastan asked, voice scratchy from sleep. Rodolphus looked up at him and wiped his eyes quickly.
"I'm sorry," he said, sitting up. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go–"
"No." Rabastan sat up as well, so fast that the blood rushed from his head. "What's wrong?"
As if he didn't know.
And for a moment, he thought that he was going to tell him. He looked at him doubtfully, opened his mouth…
"No, Rab," he whispered. "I can't tell you."