A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! Also, thanks for being patient waiting for this update. I know I usually post first thing in the morning, but different time zone + bachelorette party made that a bit difficult :) You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions!
Huge thank you to Alassea Black for beta reading this chapter! Please let mme know what you thought of chapter twenty-nine and be on the lookout for chapter thirty soon!
Hermione nervously fiddled with the firewhiskey in the heavy glass tumbler that Rabastan had given her, wishing that they could just go on their date already. She was prepared to handle a night of Rabastan talking over her and talking down about things that she held dear to herself, but when she'd agreed to the date, she had not been expecting to spend an inordinate amount of time with Rabastan's family.
Rabastan was a bit pompous and pushy, but Hermione felt like she had a pretty good idea of how to handle him. A little bit of flattery went a long way, and he could easily spend the night doing absolutely all of the talking, which took some pressure off of her to not say or do the wrong thing.
She had not seen Edmund, Rabastan's father, since the courtship had been formalized in front of their families, and Hermione was surprisingly upset to think that Edmond did not have enough fatherly affection to care about his son's life. "Truthfully, he wouldn't care who I married, so long as she was a pureblood," Rabstan told her once when she asked. "I think he would just like me to be settled, so that I can be someone else's problem."
Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange were another issue entirely. They almost wanted to be overly involved in the budding relationship between the younger brother and Miss Dagworth-Granger, which was unsettling to say the least. Hermione did not think she would enjoy the level of interest they took in her life if she was actually intending to get married to Rabastan.
While Rabastan's brother initially did not seem too impressed by her, he would now insist that she come over for drinks before she could be escorted on a date, if only so he could interrogate her more. It was clear that he was less intelligent than Rabastan was, and had half of his brother's charm as well, leading Hermione to believe that it was Bellatrix who was behind these little exercises. She could only imagine what kind of scenarios the dark witch was putting in her husband's brain.
Taking another gulp of her firewhiskey, Hermione attempted to plaster a serene smile on her face, unwilling to let the Lestranges know how off-kilter she felt when she was with them. Rodolphus had asked her about how she was fitting in. "Well, I am so lucky that your sister-in-law, Narcissa, has taken such a liking to me. She's made me feel so included."
That had Bellatrix scowling at her. "Yes, and how is my sister these days? She's been seeming particularly useless lately."
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek so that she didn't snap at the other woman, wondering just what it was that had put her in such a foul mood. Still, she wasn't going to give into Bellatrix's cruel words about her sister, and instead chose to glide over them like the pureblood heiress she was pretending to be. "Narcissa is wonderful as always. Glowing, I would say."
Bellatrix looked positively murderous at that statement, and Rabastan quickly cleared his throat. "Hermione, you are almost out of a drink. I'll get you a new one," Rabastan said, taking her glass from her hand.
Not wanting to be left alone with Rodolphus and Bellatrix, she stood with him. "Oh, let me help you," she said giving him a grin. "I do so want to start feeling at home here," she lied.
They made their way to the sideboard together, Rabastan giving her an indulgent smile, as though she had just made his entire night. Really, she was so confused about why he seemed to like her so much when they had nothing in common. She wasn't particularly beautiful either, she knew, so it probably wasn't that either. Once they were far enough away from his brother and sister-in-law, Rabastan dropped his face so that he could whisper in her ear, an unusual act of intimacy for him. "Sorry about Bellatrix. She's been in a mood ever since Narcissa announced her pregnancy."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, surprised. She'd never put much thought into the idea of Bellatrix having children. She knew that the woman didn't have any in her time. "Does she wish for a child as well?"
"I think the problem is that she doesn't wish for a child," Rabastan whispered back. "But my father and brother are both eager to continue the line and I am sure she is facing significant pressure to produce an heir now that both of her sisters have done the same. Even if Andromeda's child is only a half-blood."
Hermione looked down at her full glass, feeling empathy for the other witch. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be constantly pressured to have a child, especially if she wasn't interested in children. Hermione supposed that in pureblood society, you couldn't stand by that kind of choice without significant friction. Further, Hermione thought about Narcissa's struggles to become pregnant. What if Bellatrix was perfectly happy to have a child and found herself unable to? She couldn't imagine what that would be like. Still, she knew that it didn't excuse Bellatrix's behavior towards her.
Not wanting to spend any additional time with the other two, Hermione was quickly learning how to gently steer Rabastan into doing what she wanted. Letting her body press into him, she reached for his hand. "Rabastan, I was really hoping that you and I would get to spend time together alone tonight. Just the two of us. Why are we still here with your brother and his wife when we could be having dinner together somewhere?"
Rabastan, predictably, preened at her words. "Of course, my darling. This was just a formality, but as soon as we finish our drinks, we can head out for the night," he smiled at her, rewarding her for her forwardness.
Leading her back to the couch, Rabastan engaged his brother in their plans to travel in the New Year, all while drinking his firewhiskey a bit faster than before. Hermione slammed the rest of her drink as well, trying to enjoy the tingly warm feeling that being a bit drunk left her with. "Well, Hermione and I should really be on our way to dinner, if we still want to catch our show," Rabastan said, not sounding a bit regretful at all.
Hermione was only too happy to hop up from the couch, collecting her cloak so that they could apparate to Diagon Alley. Rabastan led her down the cobblestone streets, letting her lean on him when she realized her legs were just a bit wobbly under her. Quickly they ducked into a fancy restaurant and out of the cold December air.
Her eyes widened when she saw the inside. It was likely someplace far more expensive than she ever would have imagined going herself, and she knew it was chosen so that as many people as possible could see them. Already she was sensing that whatever little pissing contest existed between the Blacks and the Lestranges was escalating. She still couldn't believe that they wanted to fight over her.
The dinner was mostly uneventful, except when Rabastan insisted on ordering for her. "I am perfectly capable of choosing my own meal, Rabastan," she'd tried to argue firmly, only to have him brush her concerns aside.
"Just trust me, darling," he said, holding her hand across the table. "I've been to this restaurant more than I can count. I know what's the best thing here, and I promise that you will enjoy it." He gave her hand another little squeeze. Hermione was annoyed to realize that his assertions about the food were correct; it was delicious. But the way that Rabastan insisted on treating her just rubbed her the wrong way.
She was excited to learn that after dinner he was taking her to the opera. She hadn't been to the opera since her third year when her mum had splurged and taken her to see the Barber of Seville and her mind had been so full of Looney Tunes cartoons to properly appreciate it. It felt like a rather muggle experience to be going to, seeing as she'd never been exposed to much wizarding culture during her time at Hogwarts. No one ever mentions plays or ballets or operas, so she figured that the wizarding world just didn't see the use in engaging in those activities.
"I never knew that something like this existed," Hermione gushed when he led her into their private box at the opera hall. It was all sumptuous velvet and gilded walls, truly beautiful. "What is the opera about?" she questioned.
"It's about a young girl, who falls in love with a muggle, and she goes to a powerful sorceress to try and figure out a way to share her magic with him," Rabastan explained, his voice dropping low while the orchestra was finishing their warm-ups. "It's a tragedy of course, but then the Italians always come up with the most preposterous ideas. As if any witch would like to share her magic with a muggle."
"Oh, Rabastan," she said with a put upon laugh. "If she was deeply in love, couldn't you see wanting to give up everything to be with that person."
He grinned at her. "I suppose it's not that outrageous. Just the idea...of falling in love with a muggle is so off-putting, isn't it?"
Hermione didn't think that it was particularly off-putting, having grown up in the muggle world, but at the same time she could understand how it would seem to someone like Rabastan. Even she knew it would be difficult to maintain a relationship with a muggle...her own parents had been a bit disturbed with what she could do sometimes, and she knew how much strife it could cause. Seamus often talked about how his parents would argue about magic.
Before they could talk anymore, the opera was beginning. Hermione watched on the edge of his seat as the story unfolded. Although she didn't speak Italian and couldn't really understand any of the words, she was swept away with the beauty of the singers voices and the emotion of the music. All of the effects were aided by magic and it made everything much more exciting.
After the intermission, Rabastan leaned closer to her, placing his hand on her upper thigh. Hermione looked down at the sight of it on her dark blue robes, his fingers tracing in the seam of her legs, trying to encourage her to open herself to him. Shocked, she grabbed his hand and held it in place tightly. Rabastan leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Come on, Hermione, no one will see us up here," he pleaded, noting the privacy the private box provided.
She tried to keep her face neutral, but she was overwhelmed by the smell of firewhiskey on his breath. This must be what Cassiopeia and Regulus had been warning her about. Blushing, she held his hand in place, not allowing him to move it. "This is moving a bit fast, Rabastan. You haven't even kissed me yet," she said a bit helplessly.
Her date sighed. "Oh, alright. If you are insistent on doing this right," he said, before cupping her jaw and turning her to look at him. He pressed his lips against her mouth eagerly, his tongue eagerly shoving inside her mouth. Although he'd taken her by surprise, Hermione couldn't deny that he was a very good kisser. He took the kiss deeper, leaving her breathless and pulling away. She blushed brightly.
"I'm sorry, I just...I haven't...done much before," Hermione whispered, wanting to slow things down with him.
Her words only made Rabastan smile. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "We can take things as slowly as you want, darling," he promised. "Though, you can't fault me for trying."
She didn't think that she could fault him for trying, if they were legitimately courting, and of course he didn't know that they weren't legitimately courting. Unable to think of something to say back, Hermione spent the rest of her time focussing on the opera, holding Rabastan's hand tightly in hers.
