Rabastan found it difficult to look at Bellatrix after that. He felt sick when he met her eyes, shook when he imagined how he had put his hand in between her legs, felt dizzy and dirty at the mere thought of what she had said to him.
She knew about him.
No, she suspected, nothing more! She didn't know how he felt. She couldn't know.
But she did.
Rabastan avoided Bellatrix – both her presence and conversation of her – as best he could, but with her and Rodolphus's wedding approaching quickly, it became more and more difficult to put thoughts of her out of his head. There were endless commitments that went along with the wedding, endless parties and rehearsals and fittings for dress robes.
Andromeda appeared just as bored with the wedding as Rabastan was, and time and again, Rabastan found himself wishing that he had the nerve to talk to her. She was so like him in so many ways – surely, if anyone would understand him, she would…
But she seemed unwilling to talk to him. She kept her head turned away when they were forced to stand at the front of the chapel and listen to Bellatrix and Rodolphus repeat their wedding vows ad nauseum. Rabastan wished that he might have been able to share a glance with Andromeda, a knowing little smile that would communicate the sentiment that this was a waste of their time.
But Andromeda never met his eye, and Rodolphus seemed to take little interest in his brother's feelings about the wedding. Rabastan could not hold Rodolphus at fault for that – he had more than enough to be concerned about for himself, he supposed. Rabastan had, since what he had seen in the parlour and what Rodolphus had said to him after that, become acutely aware of Maria's constant proximity to Rodolphus. He supposed that he was happy for his brother, that at least he would no longer be forced to lie with his own mother like a wife…
Rabastan tried to keep that in mind while he dressed for the wedding. He was going to go through the wedding so that he could save his brother. He was doing something selfless. For once, he was protecting Rodolphus instead of the other way around.
But that sense of self-sacrifice was small comfort when he looked at himself in his dress robes and pictured himself standing beside Rodolphus in the chapel. He would have to hear his brother's wedding vows again, and Bellatrix's, and he would have to watch them kiss and pretend to be glad that they were being married, and it might break his heart.
He slipped out of his bedroom and paused at Rodolphus's door. He could hear movement inside.
"Rod?" he said softly, pressing his ear to the door.
There was a thud from inside and then Rodolphus called out, "Just a minute!" Rabastan pulled back from the door just in time for it to swing open.
Rodolphus's dress robes were only half-done up, and his face was streaked with tears.
"What is it, Rabastan?" he asked shortly. He didn't meet his brother's eyes.
"I- I wanted to see you before the wedding… what's wrong?" Rabastan reached out to touch Rodolphus's shoulder, but he shrugged away and glanced from side to side.
"Where's Mother?" he whispered urgently. "Is she here?"
"No, I think she's downstairs – why?"
Rodolphus pulled Rabastan inside and slammed the door shut, then, before Rabastan could ask why he was crying or even open his mouth to speak, Rodolphus had pulled him close and buried his face in his hair.
"She's pregnant," he sobbed. "Mother's pregnant – she told me, and it's my child, Rab, she's pregnant by me!"
Rabastan was speechless. He reached up dumbly and put his arm around Rodolphus's shoulders.
"N- no one will ever have to know," he managed at last. He tried to speak soothingly, but Rodolphus pulled back, shaking his head.
"God will know. I'll go to Hell for this, Rab," he whispered tearfully. Rabastan had never heard him in such a panic – nor had he ever heard his brother talk of Hell. Rodolphus was not religious, not strictly at any rate, and it had not occurred to Rabastan that Hell might be a real fear for his brother.
"You won't. God will know it's not your fault."
"I should have told her not to touch me!"
"You couldn't," Rabastan soothed. He ran his hand slowly up and down Rodolphus's back, then guided him to the bed and knelt beside him on it.
"The baby will be sick! Children born between a mother and son…" Rodolphus sounded disgusted when he spat out the words mother and son.
"Mother- Mother might not even be able to carry it," Rabastan told him, hoping that it sounded comforting. "She's too old to give birth, really…"
Rodolphus looked at him, tears streaming down his face. "I hope she doesn't." His voice went cold and bitter. "I hope the child dies and I hope it takes her with it."
Rabastan cringed at his brother's harshness, but he could not fault him for thinking it.
"Don't ever tell anyone," Rodolphus begged quietly. "Please, don't ever… I shouldn't even have told you."
"Of course you should have." Rabastan embraced him again – was it wrong of him to be happy that this situation had given him such a wonderful excuse to touch his brother? "I- I can help if you want me to… I'll give her something to get rid of the baby…"
"No!" Rodolphus cried. His eyes widened and he pulled back. "No, you can't! If she found out that you did it- if she found out that I told you that she was… Rab, promise me you won't do anything to make her suspect!"
Rabastan bowed his head. "I only meant to help…"
"I know, I know…" Rodolphus's mouth twisted into a pained grimace. "But you can't help me. Just- just promise that you won't ever tell."
"I won't."
Rodolphus held his brother's gaze for just a moment, then he stood up and turned to his mirror, doing up the fastenings of his robes with shaking fingers.
"Let me…" Rabastan stood and reached out, doing up his brother's robes for him and trying not to let his hands linger for too long on his bare chest.
Rodolphus bowed his head and didn't look up, even when Rabastan was done.
"Go on to the chapel," he murmured. "I'll be there soon…"
Rabastan could tell when he was being dismissed, and though he wanted more than anything to stay with his brother, he could not think of any way to say so that would not anger him.
So he turned away and exited the room, shaking all over, heart breaking on his brother's behalf.
Maria and Joseph were already at the door. Maria was glowing, the scent of her perfume stronger than ever, and, while Rabastan might not have noticed it under other circumstances, he was very much aware that Maria had one hand on her stomach, caressing it softly beneath her dark dress. Joseph, on her arm, looked as stern and severe as ever. His mouth was pressed into a tight line and he stood up so straight that he looked like he was carved from wood.
"Rodolphus is going to be down in a moment," Rabastan muttered. He couldn't stand to look at his parents.
"Lovely, lovely," said Maria, her voice fluttering with emotion. "Oh- there he is, Joseph, isn't he handsome?"
Rabastan turned to the stairs. Rodolphus's head was held high, his mouth the same thin line that Joseph's was, but Rabastan could see that his eyes were rimmed with red.
Maria broke away from Joseph and rushed to the foot of the stairs to smother Rodolphus in an embrace. "Oh, my son, my beautiful… perfect son…"
Rabastan clenched one hand into a fist and dug his nails into his palm. What was she thinking when she put her arms around Rodolphus? Was she thinking about their child? About how she had destroyed her own son without even realizing?
"Mother," Rodolphus murmured, and Rabastan felt profound relief when he pushed Maria away, though he did it gently. "We should go – the Blacks will be waiting."
Maria nodded and looped her arm through Joseph's. Joseph offered his hand to Rodolphus and Rodolphus offered his hand to Rabastan, and then they Disapparated.
It was a grey and dreary day, with a fine drizzle of rain in the air – not enough to justify the use of an umbrella, but enough to make everything feel slick and wet.
The chapel where the ceremony was to take place was on the Blacks' grounds – a tiny stone building in the grounds, remnant of days when the Black's estate was home to a family of dozens and many of them unwilling to leave the property, even for religious services. Rabastan had heard Maria speaking disparagingly of it – my son should have a wedding in a proper church, not a little box of a place that's very existence proved what a group of self-important recluses the Blacks were.
The wedding party was already assembled by the time that the Lestranges arrived, and Rabastan scanned around for Andromeda. He knew that he was meant to stand beside her and Narcissa, the best man to their bridesmaids, but he didn't see her anywhere.
Rodolphus squeezed his hand and slipped past him, into the sanctuary (if you could call it back; it was barely big enough to hold the family members that had been invited). Maria and Joseph followed him and took their seats in the pews. Organ music was already playing.
"Where's Andromeda?" Rabastan asked the nearest person, an unfamiliar woman with a dark shawl covering her face. She shook her head silently.
Rabastan was still looking around for Andromeda when Bellatrix stepped out of the antechamber at the side of the chapel. She was dressed in black lace from head to toe, her head covered by a dark veil held in place with a silver circlet, and she moved with a sort of dreamy slowness that Rabastan had never seen from her before. She was clutching her bouquet of white roses to her breast.
Cygnus held out his arm and Bellatrix took it, and at that moment, the door was flung open and Andromeda stumbled in. Her hair and dress were damp – no doubt from the rain – and her face flushed, but Rabastan had barely a second to take in her appearance before Cygnus was walking Bellatrix into the chapel. He followed them, Narcissa at his side, and Andromeda plucked a flower out of the nearest arrangement and followed swiftly.
Andromeda kept her eyes straight forward for the entire ceremony, no matter how hard Rabastan tried to catch them. He brushed her arm lightly and she didn't even turn towards him.
Only when the priest said You may kiss the bride, and the chapel was filled with polite applause while Rodolphus lifted Bellatrix's veil and pressed his lips to hers, did Rabastan have the opportunity to lean close to Andromeda and whisper, "Where were you?"
"It's none of your concern," she hissed.
"Were you with someone?"
She whipped around and glared at him. "I told you to mind your own business!"
"Were you with a woman?" But Rabastan could already see the guilt in her eyes, and he knew what the answer was. "On your sister's wedding day?"
"Keep your voice down!" she snarled. "What I do isn't any of your business! And I swear to God, Rabastan, if you tell anyone that I was…" She mouthed the words with a woman, "I will kill you. You have no idea what would happen to me if people knew."
Don't I?
Andromeda turned away from Rabastan, fury palpable in her every movement, and Rabastan moved away from her. People were standing up now, milling around, discussing how lovely the wedding was and what a beautiful couple Rodolphus and Bellatrix made, no doubt.
Oh, and they did make a lovely couple. Both of them so tall and elegant – Rodolphus with his strong, powerful build and Bellatrix so slim and womanly…
"Rabastan Lestrange?"
Rabastan started at the quiet voice in his ear and turned around quickly. He had been backing towards the wall, intending slip outside without being noticed, but someone had moved into his path.
"Sir?" he asked politely. He didn't recognize the man – and surely he would have, if he had ever seen him anywhere before, for he was more handsome than any man Rabastan had ever seen before, save his brother. He had a look about him that Rabastan would ordinarily have associated with a tortured artist in a Victorian novel – tall, pale, bone-thin, but with a spark in his eye.
"I've heard so much about you…"
Rabastan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying not to think too much about the man's appearance. "From who have you heard about me, sir? I don't believe we've met."
"Your father-in-law is in my… employ," he said, and he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. "He has probably spoken of me… you likely know me by my title – my followers call me the Dark Lord."
Rabastan's throat tightened automatically and he felt perspiration break across his forehead. He had heard of the Dark Lord, of course he had – Cygnus Black spoke of him often, and he was in every newspaper that Rabastan had read over the last three years.
"M- my Lord," he said, bowing quickly. "I apologize – I had never seen a picture of you…"
"No need for apologies," he said with a lazy wave of his hand. "As I was saying, I've heard much about you."
"From Cygnus Black?" Rabastan could not imagine Cygnus saying anything even the slightest bit positive about him. He could barely imagine Cygnus saying anything about him.
"Yes, from Cygnus Black. You pique my curiosity, Rabastan – may I call you Rabastan?" He smiled slightly, a charming little smile that Rabastan could not help but return.
"Of course, my Lord."
"I wonder if you might take a drink with me some night," he said, voice still perfectly polite. "I have some matters that I would like to speak with you about…"
"Speak with me, my Lord?"
"Yes, with you." He glanced around at the people surrounding them. "And they are matters that I do not think it would be wise to let everyone at this ceremony hear. If I might give you my address…?"
"Oh- of course." Rabastan felt a flush rising in his cheeks, and his hands shook as the Dark Lord produced a square of parchment and handed it to him.
"Shall we say this Friday?" he asked, still so polite and charming that it was almost uncanny. "Perhaps at six?"
"A- anything you wish, my Lord."
His lips twitched up into a wider smile – one that seemed far more genuine than that which he had given before. "I shall look forward to it."
Rabastan was struck dumb. He couldn't even see thank you or so will I, and he stared after the Dark Lord as he turned and slipped out of the chapel.
"You were speaking to the Dark Lord!"
Rabastan tore his eyes from his retreating back and looked at Bellatrix, who was standing at a distance, bouquet clutched loosely in one hand, and staring at Rabastan with abject shock.
And – was that? Oh, it was. Rabastan could see just the faintest hint of jealousy in Bellatrix's eyes.
Good.
"I was," he confirmed, letting his lip curl into the faintest of sneers. Let her be jealous that the Dark Lord was paying attention to him and not to her, the bride – she deserved it for taking Rodolphus away.