WHO: Rabastan and Rodolphus.
WHAT: In which boo-boos have been fixed.
WHERE: The Lestrange manse, English countryside.
WHEN: Two weeks after this, mid-1973.

The brothers' world had, for the past weeks, consisted of nothing but healers and bed-rest.

It was not in Rabastan's nature to be nurturing -- that singular quality belonged to their mother, and even in her, it was mere a peculiarity of her politely disinterested character -- yet the first few days of his brother's reclusion saw him shadowing the small staff of healers that had descended upon the household within minutes of being summoned on that fateful night; awkwardly at first, getting in their way as they set about patching Rodolphus up; and then disrupting their procedures with his demands for information. Charms that cleansed wounds, spells that stitched skin back together: Rabastan wanted to know it all, leaving them to their work only when he felt his questions were properly addressed.

His days were measured out in something prized by his father and brother, and thus, until now, spurned by him -- routine. The ailing Sabine Lestrange was given scant consideration as Rabastan mapped his time according to the schedule placed on Rodolphus by the healers, who soon learned to direct their reports on the progress of their august patient to his stone-faced brother. Rabastan oversaw procedures and the dispensing of potions, making himself scarce only when Rodolphus was bathed, as if he wanted to spare him the final indignity of witnessing him submit like a child to the ministrations of others. Otherwise, however, Rabastan's was a constant presence of saturnine vigilance and worry.

The day was early still, and the only ones who now stirred were a handful of servants and Rabastan, the former of which kept out of his way as he strode down the hallway leading to Rodolphus' room, covering the distance with long-legged strides. Reaching the door, he stopped, the muscles around his mouth tightening with displeasure when he noted the utter absence of healers -- healers that should have been waiting to talk to him, as they were expected to, every morning.

"Worthless," came the half-whispered mutter, and with a push of his hand, opened the door. A single step was taken before the sight within the room stopped him in place, surprise suddenly evident across his features.