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bitch got a christmas present. dedicated to arfwoogah/whateversheisnowbecauseshe'sallOMGLJSUUUUCKS~. ILU BB.
Rodolphus Lestrange never let his brother sleep in his bed with him.
When Rabastan was seven, he had a nightmare that petrified him. He didn't want to go to his mother's room, however. His mother would not soothe him, he knew, and besides, he was afraid of his mother's room in the first place. So when he knocked on Rodolphus's door at two-fourteen in the morning, he whined to his older brother that he could not sleep and that he had to come into his room.
Alas, Rodolphus shut the door in his face.
After several minutes of trying to get him to open, Rodolphus finally opened the door again. Rod was never the type to fold, but Rab always had a way of convincing him that neither of them quite understood.
Still, Rodolphus never let his brother sleep in his bed with him. The older brother gave his brother a blanket to sleep on the floor, near the foot of his bed.
This happened often, and each time, Rod would make his brother sleep on the floor.
Once Rabastan had grown out of that stage, he started to leave Rodolphus alone, moving on to other prospects such as girls and magic and being a better Frenchman than Rodolphus could be. The two became rather competitive, and when Rod grew bored of this, he stopped talking to his younger brother.
One night in Rod's seventh year, though, when they were both home in France during the winter holidays, at approximately three-forty-two in the morning, Rodolphus heard a soft, rhythmic knock on his door. He groaned tiredly, sinking his head deeper into the pillow, trying to pretend he hadn't heard anything. Rod didn't really care who it was, just that he would get his peace.
Rabastan kept at it for several minutes, and soon enough, he gave up trying.
By giving up trying, he meant that he opened his brother's door himself and walked in, shutting it delicately behind him.
When Rodolphus didn't stir, Rab whispered, 'Rod?"
Rod could barely resist from rolling his eyes, but that would mean having to open his eyes, and that would have been horrible so he didn't. "Ah oui?" he answered groggily, wondering what on earth his brother could want at this time of night.
"I couldn't sleep," he whispered.
Silence filled the room as Rodolphus opened his eyes in confusion, sitting up just a little bit in his bed. "So what do you want?"
Rod could almost see his brother smiling in the darkness as he moved forward, pulling the covers off his brother. "What the-what are you doing? Merde! It's cold!" he complained as soon as it happened, though Rab just wouldn't let up and put the covers back.
Instead, he climbed into the bed with Rodolphus, patting the covers down over both of them. When Rod didn't complain and just sighed in defeat because he was too tired to do anything else, Rab put his arm over his brother's waist and fell asleep with his face in the crook of Rod's neck.
The next morning when Hortense Lestrange came to wake Rodolphus up, she blinked at what she saw and closed the door, pretending she hadn't noticed anything at all. She didn't pretend to understand, even when they held hands under the breakfast table.
Rodolphus Lestrange never let his brother sleep in his bed with him.
When Rabastan was seven, he had a nightmare that petrified him. He didn't want to go to his mother's room, however. His mother would not soothe him, he knew, and besides, he was afraid of his mother's room in the first place. So when he knocked on Rodolphus's door at two-fourteen in the morning, he whined to his older brother that he could not sleep and that he had to come into his room.
Alas, Rodolphus shut the door in his face.
After several minutes of trying to get him to open, Rodolphus finally opened the door again. Rod was never the type to fold, but Rab always had a way of convincing him that neither of them quite understood.
Still, Rodolphus never let his brother sleep in his bed with him. The older brother gave his brother a blanket to sleep on the floor, near the foot of his bed.
This happened often, and each time, Rod would make his brother sleep on the floor.
Once Rabastan had grown out of that stage, he started to leave Rodolphus alone, moving on to other prospects such as girls and magic and being a better Frenchman than Rodolphus could be. The two became rather competitive, and when Rod grew bored of this, he stopped talking to his younger brother.
One night in Rod's seventh year, though, when they were both home in France during the winter holidays, at approximately three-forty-two in the morning, Rodolphus heard a soft, rhythmic knock on his door. He groaned tiredly, sinking his head deeper into the pillow, trying to pretend he hadn't heard anything. Rod didn't really care who it was, just that he would get his peace.
Rabastan kept at it for several minutes, and soon enough, he gave up trying.
By giving up trying, he meant that he opened his brother's door himself and walked in, shutting it delicately behind him.
When Rodolphus didn't stir, Rab whispered, 'Rod?"
Rod could barely resist from rolling his eyes, but that would mean having to open his eyes, and that would have been horrible so he didn't. "Ah oui?" he answered groggily, wondering what on earth his brother could want at this time of night.
"I couldn't sleep," he whispered.
Silence filled the room as Rodolphus opened his eyes in confusion, sitting up just a little bit in his bed. "So what do you want?"
Rod could almost see his brother smiling in the darkness as he moved forward, pulling the covers off his brother. "What the-what are you doing? Merde! It's cold!" he complained as soon as it happened, though Rab just wouldn't let up and put the covers back.
Instead, he climbed into the bed with Rodolphus, patting the covers down over both of them. When Rod didn't complain and just sighed in defeat because he was too tired to do anything else, Rab put his arm over his brother's waist and fell asleep with his face in the crook of Rod's neck.
The next morning when Hortense Lestrange came to wake Rodolphus up, she blinked at what she saw and closed the door, pretending she hadn't noticed anything at all. She didn't pretend to understand, even when they held hands under the breakfast table.