Day Ten

Rabastan's kiss good morning was a simple, chaste kiss that disappointed Hermione. Seeing how confused she was when he ended it so quickly, the wizard had to smile a little sheepishly.

"I got a little carried away yesterday morning. I'd had a wonderful dream the night before and when I kissed you…" He cleared his throat, unable to look at her. "I very much wanted to carry you to bed and damn our agreement."

She smiled, feeling her cheeks flush at the same time. It had been a long time since she last knew that a man desired her.

"I'm sorry that I had such an effect on you."

"No, you're not, you cheeky, little witch."

Deciding that she could kiss him any time that she wanted since he was her husband, Hermione brushed her lips against his again. It didn't last much longer than his kiss that morning, but it was enough to force a deep groan out of Rabastan. The amount of power she clearly had over him was intoxicating. She only hoped that when he finally had her naked he wouldn't be disappointed. There had already been so much of a build-up that she worried when the thirty days were up, he'd feel like it wasn't worth it.

"Please sit down and eat your breakfast before I make you very late for work downstairs."

Across the table from each other they were at a safe distance. They could both calm their emotions and their primal urges. She made the decision to share with him Ron's concerns even if she knew it would likely upset him. Maybe he needed the distraction.

"Ron thinks that Nicholas might be talking to reporters about what he's seen inside the shop."

Rabastan sighed.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid Mr. Weasley probably is right. I've wondered that myself. Even confronted the arrogant bastard downstairs about it and he just smirked. Some of the articles that have been written… well, let's just say that there is an 'anonymous source' in a few of them that sound suspiciously like Nicholas."

"I'm scared to even ask what they say."

"Do you want to know?"

She shook her head. There was no point in making herself upset for no reason. Rita lied and the other reporters weren't much better. All the newspapers and magazines cared about was getting more readers. They would stop at nothing to do that, even if if meant printing fantastical stories that had little basis in reality.

"The day that man leaves my shop for the last time, I will be very happy. If I could just fire him, it would be lovely, but I'm sure he would go straight to Rita with an exclusive."

"He would. If I hadn't already promised that I'd put dark magic and murder behind me, he would no longer be an issue."

Even though she knew Rabastan was being serious about a part of him wanting to kill or at least maim and torture her manager, it still made her laugh. More than that, knowing that he was angry on her behalf and on her side was everything. She couldn't remember the last time she really felt like she had a partner.

It was another slow day in the shop. Really it was starting to get amusing. Hermione had to find some humor in her misfortune or she feared she would go mad. Flourish and Blotts had been a Diagon Alley institution for over a hundred years. How could everyone just abandon it so quickly?

As she pulled out her books to keep track of the expenses and the galleons, or rather lack thereof, coming into the shop, she didn't like what she saw. The shop wouldn't last much longer if the boycott continued. Once she saw the back of Nicholas exit the shop and Rabastan flipped the sign on the door to 'closed', she knew she had to fully confide in him how bad it all was.

"I didn't have much money when I bought the shop. Hardly enough to really purchase the damn thing. Every tiny bit of my savings went into this place. Rabastan, if we don't get any customers soon, I'll be completely out of money."

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. It helped, somewhat.

"First of all, you need never worry about money as long as you are married to me. And as I don't intend to let you go without a fight, that might be longer than you wish."

Appreciating his attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood, she gave him a pity smile.

"With both of my parents dead, my brother still in Azkaban, and no little greedy nieces or nephews running around, I have complete control over the family vault now which means you have access to it too. Whatever you decide to do, keep running the store or not, I'll support you. We could even sell everything and run away to some tropical island where we could spend all day on the beach drinking those delicious fruity drinks and all night… well, doing something else."

The subtle waggle of his eyebrows told her all that she needed to know about what he was thinking. Truthfully, running away to a tropical paradise didn't sound like the worst idea. Only the depressing reminder that the Ministry wasn't likely to allow a parolee to travel outside of the country nor would the paradise likely want a convicted Death Eater inside their borders brought her back to reality.

"So I really am the only living Mrs. Lestrange."

"Unless my brother is smart like me and finds himself a wife willing to help him out of prison, I'm afraid you'll always be the only one. Not speaking of my mother, of course, but you're far better than the last Mrs. Lestrange."

No mention of his late sister-in-law had been made since he saw the horrible scar marring the inside of his wife's arm. That was a subject that she knew they would need to discuss. There were so many left it was hard to believe they would ever be able to have them all.

"What would your family think about me being your wife? I don't imagine I'm the witch they would've picked out for you."

He sighed.

"No, you weren't. My father had very old fashioned ideas about blood purity like I've told you before. He wouldn't approve at all. My mother, however, was a little more open-minded. I think she would actually like you a great deal."

Hermione didn't know why that meant so much to her to hear, but it did. Knowing that there were a number of pureblood families that wouldn't want her wasn't something that she usually gave much thought to. The obsessive need she once had to prove to everyone that she was worthy of being a witch wasn't as strong once the war ended. She'd proven herself many times during the war. Those who disagreed, she didn't care about anyway.

"My brother would probably like you. Only Father and Bellatrix really cared all that much about blood status. I had a Muggle-Born Hufflepuff I used to snog in empty broom cupboards at Hogwarts."

She laughed at his cheeky wink.

"Now that's a surprise. The way you mentioned Kingsley liking to chase Hufflepuff skirts, you made it seem like that was a bad thing."

"Oh, definitely not. How do you think I knew about his tastes? I was in constant competition with him. That's also why I was a little unnerved to think that you and he had a history. I didn't want to have to compete with him again for my wife's affections."

"No need to worry there. He's just a friend."

"Good."

Rabastan took her hand to help her up to her feet.

"Now, put away those books and let's go home. I'm starving. We can worry about the shop tomorrow."

There was no reason to argue. She was sick of being down there too.