Author's Notes: Written for OCDdegrassi's Slashy Marauder's Holiday Competition and lunalestrange4's Slash and/or Femmeslash Competition.
Warnings: Slash, incest, possible dub-con if you look at it from a certain angle.
There was frost on the window.
That was the first thing Rabastan noticed of when he opened his eyes – that there was frost on the window – and he noticed it because never in his life had the window in his bedroom frosted over. It was too close to the ever-burning fire in the fireplace.
So that meant… that he wasn't in his bedroom.
Rabastan's mind was still hazy with sleep, and his automatic inclination was to dismiss the thought. Of course he was still in his bedroom… where else could he be? It was only when he tried to sit up to try to get a better look around the room, to assure himself that it was his, that he felt the body pressed against his back, and the arm around his waist.
Rabastan's stomach churned. He twisted around and found himself staring into his brother's face.
Rodolphus's eyes fluttered open, just inches away from Rabastan's. "Mm hmm?"
Rabastan blinked and shook his head a little bit, trying to wake himself up. Oh God… he couldn't quite comprehend… he was in bed with his brother… and…
His hands moved down his bare chest and he felt physically ill.
"Rod…" he whispered, looking at his brother with mounting horror, "Rod... what have we done?"
Rodolphus laughed, a quiet and – Rabastan thought, though perhaps it was only his imagination – faintly sinister sound. "Take a guess, brother."
His stomach heaved. Last night… there had been a New Year's Eve party. Yes, he remembered the party. The Blacks had been there, and the Malfoys, and Rabastan had had a few drinks, Rodolphus had had a few more… and perhaps they had gone upstairs together, and…
"No…" Rabastan sat up quickly, pushing Rodolphus off of him and looking around desperately for his robes. Memories of last night were coming back quickly now, and they unsettled him. All he wanted right now was to get out of his brother's bedroom as fast as he could. "No, no, no…"
"'No, no, no'? That's not what you said last night," Rodolphus said, a slight smirk playing around his lips. "If memory serves, last night, it was more along the lines of 'Yes, yes, yes'…"
"This isn't funny!" Rabastan burst out, spotting his robes tossed over the back of a chair and grabbing them. "You're making a joke out of this, and it's dead serious! You know full well I was drunk last night, and–"
Rodolphus's calm, almost lazy tone infuriated Rabastan.
"And what if Mother and Father find out about this?" he demanded. Rodolphus didn't understand, he obviously didn't. But then, why should that surprise Rabastan? Rodolphus had never had a decent sense of propriety. He probably wouldn't have cared if the whole world knew he had bedded his brother.
"What if they do?" Rodolphus asked, confirming Rabastan's opinion. "I've said this time and again, Rab… you're a Pureblood. I'm a Pureblood. What else matters?"
"You're my brother!"
"I know that."
"If you're about to complain that I seduced you while you were under the influence of alcohol, spare me. You could have told me to stop last night, you know, if it had really bothered you so much."
"I was drunk," Rabastan snapped.
"You weren't that drunk. You could have said no if you'd wanted to. I would have stopped. But you didn't say no, now did you? Which leads me to believe that you were enjoying it…"
Rabastan closed his eyes and turned away. The memories of last night had come back full force – blurred a little with alcohol and dopamine, but still more than clear enough for him to recall – and he could remember Rodolphus asking him, more than once, whether what he was doing was all right. And Rabastan had always said yes.
"Don't." Rabastan grabbed his robes from the chair where they had been tossed. "Don't give me some speech about things not being wrong as long as they feel right or about how we're both Pureblood and that makes everything fine." He yanked his clothes on as quickly as he could and headed for the door.
"What?" He whipped around, glaring at Rodolphus, more angry than he had words for.
Rodolphus was sitting up in bed, watching him.
"Happy New Year, brother."
Rabastan glared, then slammed out, rushing back to the safety of his own bedroom and sinking to the ground, burying his face in his hands. Anger boiled in his stomach. How dare his brother take advantage of him! He had been too drunk to know any better, he told himself. There was no other way he would have ever…
Rabastan sat on the cold floor of his bedroom for a long time, stewing in anger at his brother, at the whole world, and especially at the wine he had been drinking last night. It was the wine. There could be no other explanation – the alcohol had simply impeded his judgement.
But there was a small, almost unpleasantly honest part of him that knew he could have been stone sober and he still woken up in Rodolphus's bed that morning.