A/N: Thank you so much for all of my readers and the feedback you guys are giving this story. I also want to thank, give a round of applause and a huge hug to my beta VenomandVine for all of the work and love she gives the story as she edits it. Here is chapter 7's update, I am so sorry for the delay in posting the past week, but here you are now. I hope you all enjoy.


How do you Retaliate Without a Wand?

Rabastan didn't go to bed immediately after leaving Hermione in her rooms. The hour was still early and he had several duties to oversee, so he made his way to his study. The room was cozy and masculine with dark wood walls and thick, earth toned carpeting. Dozens of portraits adorned the walls, most of which threw sneers at him as he sat behind the desk. He ignored them as he set to work managing the families investments, but when his father began berating him, there was no tuning him out.

Rabastan's father had been a terrifying man, obstinate in his ways and a firm believer in blood-purity. He was a wizard who punished first and asked questions later. Rabastan had been on the receiving end of his belt or his wand many, many times. He had never been a favorite child, Rodolphus had that privilege. Rod was, after all, the firstborn, the scion to their house and heir to the families vast fortune. Rabastan was just a necessary spare that his father could not be bothered with aside from correcting his childish behavior.

"You have some nerve sitting in that chair," hissed the angry voice of the man who raised him. Rabastan sighed.

"It is my chair now, father. Rod failed to hold it by not providing an heir, somebody has to." He replied to the portrait.

"And you think you have what it takes?" The angry picture shouted.

"Considering my new wife is already pregnant, I believe I do."

"And that!" His father spat out. "That is another issue entirely. How could you marry that? You think it's acceptable to bring a mudblood into our house?"

"She is a pureblood now, or didn't Rod tell you?"

"A Mudblood!" The frame shook as the deceased wizard insisted on his position.

"I don't expect you to understand father. Nor do I require your blessing. You are dead and what's done is done." Rabastan said wearily, not five minutes in and the argument was already wearing him down.

"Damn well you don't!" His father replied furiously. "I am still your father boy, and you will respect me. I can't believe you are actually breeding with it."

"What would you have me do? Let our line die out?" Rabastan asked finally.

"Better that than you sully the good name of this family! Trying to pass off whatever spawn you create with that filth as the heir, as legitimate. Half-blood mongrels. No better than a dog."

"Need I remind you, she is my wife, any children produced would in fact be legitimate. Also, Hermione is considered a pureblood so it doesn't even make my children half-bloods."

"A piece of paper does not a pureblood make. Her blood is still filthy and she is nothing more than dirt. You do your house a disservice by bringing her here." The portrait continued to argue.

"Enough!" Rabastan bellowed authoritatively. "Let me make myself abundantly clear father. You are dead, nothing more than a canvas full of paint, and very easy to dispose of. I am now the head of this house and I refuse to defend that to you or anyone else. One more word from you and I will order you removed from the wall and thrown in storage where the light doesn't shine."

"Rodulphus wouldn't let that happen!" the portrait started, but Rabastan interrupted.

"Rodolphus no longer has any say to stop me, so go ahead, give me a reason. Push me too far, father, and I'll see that you are set on fire!" Rabastan threatened. The portrait of Reginald Lestrange remained silent, knowing when he was defeated. Rabastan felt the tension dissipate from his body and went back to work, finishing the inventory report as quickly as possible.

When he finished, he made his way to his own bed as quickly as possible. Arranging himself in his bed his thought drifted to his pregnant wife. The way they discovered she was pregnant, was cruel, despite the ritual at the ceremony all but guaranteeing she would be with child by morning. Rabastan didn't find the circumstance ideal, if only because he wasn't sure where they stood or how she would cope. However, he was proud of how well she maintained her composure at breakfast when the dark lord shocked her with the revelation. The moment his master announced which ritual would be used he resigned himself that his heir would arrive earlier than anticipated, but he still felt a pang of guilt for what he had subjected Hermione to. She had not asked for any of this. He eventually fell asleep, resolving to speak with his wife about the whole situation.


Hermione awoke quite early the next day. She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning unable to shut her racing thoughts down enough to get some shut eye. The hot chocolate she ordered before bed had helped a bit. The warm milk in the beverage soothed her enough to not be so wound up and managed to make her eyelids droop just enough that she didn't get more than twenty pages read in Hogwarts a History. However, despite being tired and sleepy the thoughts poured in and sleep was inevitable, but she too exhausted to read.

Finally, just after dawn, she called it quits, the restlessness, the light streaming in from the window, and the sharp insistent pain in her forehead too much to contend with and still sleep. So she rose from the bed.

While Hermione had found her favorite book last night, and opted for the reassurance of an old friend, she also knew she need to seek out books that would give her insight into her current predicament; her pregnancy. As an only child she had never had the experience of seeing her mom pregnant. She had been surrounded by large families like the Weasley's growing up, but was never witness to any of the children's pregnancies or births, as she and Ginny were only a year apart. To put it frankly, she had no idea what to expect. Certainly she had seen many pregnant women in her 19 years of life, but the were strangers in passing or friends of her parents whom she never saw much. So here she was expecting a new baby, newly conceived, with only anecdotes and wives tales, like how her mum never ate pickles again after craving them all the time or how much morning sickness sucked. She wanted to find a book to better explain pregnancy so she could better prepare herself for what lay ahead.

She didn't particularly care for her appearance, she just wanted to get out of her rooms and may way for the library. The library at Lestrange Hall wasn't overly large, but was still housed more books than Hermione would own herself. She figured the actual amount of books there were comparable to a small bookshop. It had a warm and welcoming atmosphere, with a fireplace and sitting area, rich hues of autumn, golden yellows, burnt oranges, soft reds, and faded greens, with the aroma of parchment both fresh and old. It was the most happy and carefree she had felt in a considerably long time.

However, it soon became clear that the library would be no safe haven for her. She was alone, or so she thought, in the room early that morning. She had just located the section of books she sought when an annoyed, nasty sigh filled the quiet space. It was quickly followed by a sneered comment.

"Is it possible for me to go anywhere in this house that you are not?" Rodolphus, she realized. She turned to face him.

"I am told I had quite the reputation with your lot back in the day," Hermione mused, "my proclivity for reading should be enough warning for one to assume that anywhere there is a library, is where I'll be." It was sassy and sarcastic remark, so it didn't surprise her that it only fueled the dark, older wizard's discontent.

"You also had the reputation for being a good fuck when you were in prison. I've been meaning to test the theory." He leered at her, and only too late Hermione noticed that the burly wizard was too close, too quick for her to move past him.

"Too bad for you I'm married."

"That never stopped me," he threatened lowly and stepped closer. Feeling trapped and at a loss of what else to say, Hermione screamed. Later she would think that she could have hit him with a book. Unfortunately, the useful thoughts like that one normally only occurred after the fact. Rodolphus recoiled when she opened her lungs to the house and stepped away. It wouldn't do to have his brother find out his intentions.

"Just you wait little mudblood. My brother won't always be around to save you, and the next time I have you alone, I won't wait for you to scream." He warned right before Rabastan ran into the room.

Rabastan, not an idiot, didn't take long to sense what had transpired upon seeing Hermione backed into a bookcase, and Rodulphus hovering near her, a menacing expression on his features.

"Hermione," he said. "Go back to your room." The witch didn't move. "Now," He added. She shifted and moved towards him. He watched her until she vanished through the door before glaring at his brother.

He had to be careful with him, Rod was a Slytherin.

"Brother." He began calmly.

"Don't even start." His elder sibling spat.

"No. You don't get to down play it this time, Rod. I am not joking when I say that I will not hesitate to report you. Do not mess with my wife." He hissed.

"I don't consider her to be your wife. Bitch is a fucking mudblood."

"She is my wife. She is my pregnant wife and you will stay away from her. You have a small library in your own ward of the house, aside from meals there is no reason for you to enter this wing, and you deliberately did so to scare her. Do it again and you won't like what you happens."

"You are not always around, Bas." Rodolphus warned ominously.

"You really think I don't have a failsafe to protect her. I've been planning this for a long time, brother. Don't test me. Resent me all you want but you will treat Hermione with respect."

"She had a hand in killing Bella." The other wizard protested.

"You hated Bella. Told me you were glad she was dead, so don't even go there. Hermione is the lady of this house and she already carries the next heir, something you never provided. You can hate me for taking your place all you want, complain to father all you want, but she had better not face your retaliation."

"Fuck you." Rodolphus yelled.

"Yeah, fuck me. But she is off limits. Now go." Rabastan ordered and waited as his brother stomped off, back to his own level of the house. When he was sure Rodolphus was gone, he went off to find Hermione. He knocked on the adjoining bedroom door, assuming correctly, that it would ease her nerves less than if he knocked directly on her door.


He didn't wait for a reply before entering. She was curled on the bed with a bunch of books strewn around her, analyzing the titles.

"Hermione," he called out gently to grab her attention.

"I'm fine." She replied.

"What happened, exactly?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it damned well does." Rabastan growled.

"I was getting books, I wanted books on pregnancy, and he cornered me. I don't know what he intended, but I only have a wand that works for cosmetic and household charms, not my wand that I could hex his bollocks off with so I screamed before he could do anything."

"He threatened you." Rabastan said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed irritably. "Newsflash Rabastan, his wife tortured me, I helped kill her, I broke into your family vault at Gringotts, I'm not his favorite person, and he is bigger, stronger and more powerful than me and he knows it, so yes he threatened me."

"He shouldn't, but if he does bother you again, you must let me know immediately."

"Sure." She shrugged. "But little good that does me if I can't protect myself against him."

"You already know I can't give you your wand back yet." Rabastan explained as if she were a child, slow to understand.

"And why not?" Her temper flared. "That paper tells me that I'm a pureblood, with no outstanding criminal record, and no longer wanted for any reason. Why shouldn't I have a wand, like every other lady out there?"

"Because not every witch in our circle was Potter's best friend." Rabastan said coldly.

"Exactly, as I thought. That paper changes nothing, I'm still considered a threat, and I'm still being punished for it. You took me away from one prison, but I'm still a prisoner just with a considerably larger, nicer cage." Hermione bit out.

"I'll see you at breakfast, Madame." Rabastan drawled, effectively ending the argument before he could lose his temper.

"Fine." His wife retorted. "Walk away and don't acknowledge the truth." Rabastan didn't dignify her outburst with a reply. He just walked out. It was only seven in the morning, and he had been asleep when she screamed. He wasn't going to get back to sleep, but he wasn't ready to start his day either.

He had to admit she was right, as angry as her commentary made him, she was spot on. He was withholding her wand from her, and she was a witch. She was no longer an inmate in Azkaban, and she was pardoned, and besides that, now married. She wore a bracelet that allowed him to find her anywhere she would be if she tried to run, which so far, she hadn't even attempted to do. It was true that Narcissa had provided a monitored wand capable of casting beauty and household charms. However, it wasn't capable of much else. He could see why Hermione, his brilliant and powerful witch, would only see it as a crappy placehold. It wouldn't accomplish any of the spells or charms she relied on normally.

The only reason he kept her wand away from her was because she was powerful and knew how to use it. He didn't want her to have the means to retaliate against him, and that wasn't fair because she hadn't given him any reason to fear her doing so. And with Rodolphus around, it would be a tool she could use to protect her.


Hermione was stewing in her room, waiting until breakfast would begin. She was mad in general, but not at Rabastan specifically. He just bore the brunt of her frustrations. He felt unsafe everywhere in this house, around these people. Rabastan was the only person, aside from Narcissa, who made an effort to make her feel comfortable and at ease, like she belonged. But she couldn't help feeling like she was still a prisoner when she didn't have her wand.

She dressed for breakfast. As she dug clothes out of the wardrobe, she cursed Narcissa for not allowing her pants. She was tempted to just go down in the pajamas she wore, but after the incident with the elder Lestrange, she didn't want to. Not that real clothes would be a barrier against him should he decide to come after her, but it made her at the very least feel more protected from his gaze that seemed to suggest he could see through her clothes. So she selected a skirt that fell to her knees in a pretty floral pattern, and paired it with a white cashmere sweater.

Using the wand that she had been given to comply with Narcissa's standards of being a proper lady, she glamoured her face to have eyeliner and mascara and a pale pink gloss on her lips. Then she charmed her hair to be free of frizz and have soft, shining ringlet curls falling down her back. Satisfied with her appearance, she knocked on the adjoining door to Rabastan's room.

She didn't want to be alone in the house, even for the walk down to the dining room, and she hoped that her husband hadn't left yet. It was just short of the hour breakfast was being served. A moment after her rap on the door, it opened and she was greeted by a half dressed Rabastan, his hair wavy and not yet brushed, still wet from his shower. She gaped at his well-toned chest, and he smirked slowly.

"Yes, Hermione?" He asked.

"Ummm, I was err, I was wondering if you would walk with me to breakfast. I don't want to walk alone in the halls." He frowned at her statement. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable in her own home.

"Sure. Just let me finish, and then I'll come through for you." He agreed.

"Of course. Thank you." Hermione stated as he closed the door. Hermione took those last few minutes to organize the books she had just grabbed from the library. Meanwhile Rabastan chuckled to himself, at her reaction to seeing his naked torso. On their wedding night, it had been dark, and he hadn't given her much opportunity to explore his assets, so he knew that was her first good look at him, and he was pleased that she seemed to like what she saw.

However, her statement that she was not willing to walk from her rooms to the dining room alone made him reach a decision. He wondered how she felt knocking on his door, asking him for help, even though she had been fighting with him just an hour before. He sighed. His little witch didn't feel safe in her home, and he wanted her to see him as her ally, as her protector, as he endeavored to be, but he didn't want her to feel she couldn't leave her rooms if he wasn't unavailable. Throwing on a white oxford and a black suit coat, he opened a drawer in his dresser and pocketed her vinewood wand that he had collected from the guard at Azkaban. Then he saw himself through the doorway dividing their rooms and escorted her to breakfast.