A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so pleased that you are enjoying the story so far - Rabastan and Hermione definitely know how to butt heads don't they? You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter two and be on the lookout for chapter three next week!
Since the disastrous meeting with her new neighbor, Hermione hadn't given Rabastan a second thought. She'd gone out with Ginny and Luna for a raucous girls' night out that had given Hermione a hangover for the century and the phone number of a rather good looking guy called Cormac. Ginny had insisted that she text him right away, but Hermione wasn't so sure that it would be a good idea. There was something arrogant about him that really rubbed Hermione the wrong way.
She studiously ignored the loud music that Rabastan blasted late into the evening, unsure if he was purposefully trying to irritate her with the plaster-shaking noise. Little did he know, she'd long ago invested in a pair of earplugs to drown out Ron's snoring when he stayed over. Too bad for her, she could still feel the bass deep in her bones, even if the noise was drown out.
The only time that she'd seen him was peering at him in the back garden, where he spent most of his time smoking. However, halfway through the week, he had begun wheeling out an older looking motorcycle and would spend the early evenings tinkering away with it, until his hands and face were smudged with grease.
Not that she was looking.
She wondered more and more about him the more time that had passed, wondering what exactly his deal was. She still hadn't forgotten the way that he'd looked at her when she'd brought over the cookies, just trying to be nice. She needed something to get thoughts of Rabastan out of her mind.
Luckily, her Professor had come through on that end, assigning her a 40-page essay to be turned in in three weeks, and Hermione had dove right into her research. A trip to the library had been more than productive and she'd brought home a stack of books that she almost couldn't see over. After that, she had set up shop at her kitchen table, books spread out with color coded post-its and random bits of paper covered in red ink for editing. Hermione prided herself on being an excellent student, so a big essay was the perfect thing to throw all of her attention into.
Not even the numerous texts and phone calls from her friends on a Friday could pull her out of her research. She had her hair up in an artful topknot, her feet warm in cozy slippers and one of her dad's old sweatshirts on, and she was in this for the long haul.
That was, until she heard a faint pounding on her door. Realizing that Ginny must have decided to pull her away from the books, Hermione stood from the table stretching her back. "Oh, Crooks, that girl," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, before walking towards the door. "She just doesn't know how to take no for an answer." Sometimes she wondered if she talked to her familiar really far too much.
As she was approaching, the intruder knocked on her door once more. "Ginny, I already told you I can't come out tonight," she called through the wood, her fingers deftly working to undo the locks.
"I'm not Ginny," a decidedly male voice said from the other side of the door, with a laugh.
Hermione felt supremely stupid, opening the door, only to come face to face with Rabastan once again. It looked like he was freshly shaved, though she could still see the shadow of stubble left behind. Wearing ripped jeans and black band shirt, he looked really far too casual to be holding what appeared to be a rather expensive looking bottle of red wine in his tattooed hands, a hastily tied white ribbon on the neck.
"What do you want?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
Rabastan cleared his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor in guilt, before popping back up to her face. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "I wanted to apologize and I wondered if...if we could start over?"
Hermione looked him over, trying to read his face for any hint of sincerity. "That's one way of putting it," she said cautiously.
"Here, take it," he said, holding the bottle out for her to take.
She stared at the bottle in his hands, wondering if she should accept the peace offering, remembering Ginny's words that she should give him a second chance...that he might have just been caught off guard by how hot she was. Well, no trouble of that now, Hermione thought to herself, realizing that her current outfit was just about the least sexy thing someone could wear.
His blue eyes were beginning to look a little bit desperate the longer she didn't take the bottle. As he was about to speak again, a loud yowl caught both of their attentions, as Crookshanks slunk from behind her legs to stare up at the new stranger. Her bandy-legged cat was always far more perceptive than a cat should be.
Rabastan immediately smiled at the Crookshanks, leaning over to offer his hand to pet. After a brief sniff of his hand, Crookshanks was purring wildly, bumping his face against Rabastan's hand, eager for ear scratches. "Who is this?" Rabastan asked with a broad smile, his face turned all the more handsome by his laughter.
Hermione felt her heart stutter a bit. "Crookshanks, my cat," she explained, watching the scene with interest. Surely if Crookshanks seemed to think that Rabastan was okay, she should give him a second chance? Crookshanks had known Ron for almost a decade and still hissed at her ginger friend!
Her neighbor straightened up once again, offering the bottle out for her without words, still chuckling at Crookshanks behavior. "Here you go - at least I was able to win one of you over," he said with a grin.
Gratefully, Hermione took the bottle from his hands. "Erm, say, would you like to come in for a bit. Maybe have a glass of this?" she asked, surprised by her own forwardness. "Just, I doubt any of my friends would appreciate it. They are all more into vodka and snakebites at the moment."
Rabastan looked as if he'd won the lottery and eagerly stepped inside the flat after her. "What's a snakebite?" he asked, his nose scrunched up in confusion.
Hermione turned to look at him, feeling surprised. They were all the rage at her student union. "Oh, it's a drink - half lager and half cider. Sometimes you can get it with a bit of blackcurrent in it. My friend Ginny loves that because the bartender always pour the letter G into the foam," she explained, leading him to the kitchen. She rummaged around looking for the bottle opener, while Rabastan made himself useful looking for cups. "They are above the microwave," she called over her shoulder.
"Sound intriguing," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, setting the wine glasses in front of her, waiting for her to pour a healthy glass for each of them.
"Have you been living under a rock? I swear everyone's heard of them. They get you drunk quickly," she explained, knowing that that was why Ron liked them in particular. "I don't care for them very much."
Rabastan looked embarrassed before rubbing a hand to the back of his neck. "Something like that," he said with a grin, before lifting up his glass to offer a toast. "To new neighbors," he said brightly.
"Cheers," Hermione responded, clinking her glass against his delicately before taking a sip. Looking over at the kitchen counter, she belatedly realized that all of her schoolwork had completely taken over her table. "Oh, er - shall we go sit in the living room?" she asked, leading the way.
Turning on a couple of lamps, Hermione hadn't realized how dark it had gotten while she was studying. She must have been at her work for several hours at that point, and was glad for the surprise visit by her new neighbor. She could already tell that her back would be protesting the way she'd been hunched over her books for hours in the morning.
"Wow, this is really nice," he said, looking around at the pictures of her one the walls, laughing with her friends. He paused for a moment at the serious looking photo of her and her parents as well. "Much nicer than the dungeon that I am living in downstairs."
"Why are you living there?" she questioned, very curious. "It's been empty for years. The flat isn't very nice, and the low rent doesn't quite make up for that."
"It's cheap. I'm just trying to get on my feet right now," he explained, but quickly glossed over the topic, trying to change the subject. "So you are a student? All those books, you must be pretty advanced in school."
Hermione blinked, trying to figure out how she'd even gotten into this situation in the first place. "Yes, I'm studying history right now and I hope to go into law in the future," Hermione explained. "There is a lot of writing involved, but I find it quite rewarding."
Rabastan nodded. "I was never a very good student myself," he said, sounding a bit dejected, before brightening up. "Hey, you know, I could help you track down a little-" he tapped the side of his nose comically, "if you wanted. If you needed help staying up at night, to study, I mean."
She knew that her jaw must be hanging over, because she was just too shocked that he'd honestly offered to find her drugs. There had been one time when Fred and George had convinced her to try some of their adderall, but she found that she hated the sensation, completely unable to sit down while she was on it. "Did you just offer to find me cocaine?" she said, her voice going quite shrill. "What are you, some kind of drug dealer?"
"No!" Rabastan said suddenly, shaking his head. "Well, I mean, not any more, but I still know most of my contacts. Cocaine really helps you focus. I was...just trying to help."
"So you used to be a drug dealer? How is that supposed to make me feel any better?" she asked, trying not to get hysterical. Were people going to be coming and going from her building at all hours of the night, strung out and trying to get their fix?
"It's not - I'm sorry," he said, setting down his empty glass, running his hands through his hair. "Look, I'm really not...in practice of talking to woman, and you just make me so nervous. I-I like you and I am just trying to show you..."
"You like me? You don't even know me," she insisted, wondering what the hell she'd done to leave such an impression on him. Besides, he was clearly skirting around some sort of issue, but it wasn't helping smooth things over in the slightest. She hated not getting the full picture. "Look, why don't you just explain what you mean instead of talking in code."
Rabastan took a deep breath, before looking up at her. "I just get out of prison. I was in for ten years, and well, like I said, not a lot of women around for me to talk to," he said, his eyebrows narrowing at her. "And you are so pretty and it's been so long since I've been with a woman."
Hermione stood up, nostrils flaring. "Oh, so you haven't had a fuck in a while and you thought that trying to get with me would be easy did you? Because I'm so convenient," she accused, feeling hurt. Rabastan was good looking, tall and strong, but she knew that there was no chance he was actually interested in her. Feeling like the path of least resistance hurt even more.
"It's not like that," Rabastan floundered, though he wasn't very convincing. He took a deep breath, before a suave smile found its way back onto his face. He stood up, closing the distance between them, pressing a hand to her shoulder. "Is it so hard to believe that I am attracted to you? If all I wanted was a fuck, I could be out at any bar right now."
Hermione pulled away from him. He was good looking, she could give him that. His physique was certainly explained by the time away in prison. But, if he thought that she was going to swoon into his arms, he was sorely mistaken. A bit of wine and a smile weren't enough to get her to drop her knickers, and worse, now she was feeling intensely mistrustful of him.
"I think that you should leave now," she said, crossing her arms over her chest once more. Suddenly, she wished she wasn't wearing little more than pajamas. Rabastan opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hermione cut him off with a stare. "It's not up for discussion. I want you to leave. Right now."
Rabastan looked deflated, but he nodded anyway, leading Hermione back towards the front door. Once he was out on the front stoop, he turned around to look at her, a spark in his blue eyes. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said, sounding a bit dejected.
"Goodnight," she answered tersely, before shutting the door in his face. Surely, he'd be able to find his way home on his own. It wasn't as if he had far to go.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her mobile and scrolled to her message thread with Hagrid. And he's a convicted felon, too? What the hell, Hagrid. When were you going to tell me? She fired off another text, before taking the used glasses to the kitchen. Setting them in the sink, she decided that she would get to them in the morning.
Looking at her lonely stack of books, Hermione decided that she just didn't have the energy at the moment to study anymore. She had gotten a lot done that day, and after the excitement of the evening, she was ready to curl up into bed for the night. She went through her nightly routine on autopilot, washing her face and brushing her hair.
When she got back from brushing her teeth, she noticed she had a new message on her phone. It was from Hagrid. I'm sorry, Mione. His probation officer is the same as mine, and I thought he seemed like an alright bloke. He's trying to better himself and he's accepted responsibility for his crimes.
Hermione rolled her eyes, flopping back against her pillows. Hagrid had always had a horrible habit of taking in strays and trying to rehabilitate them. She thought about his massive rottweiler called Fluffy who had been rescued from a dog fighting ring and didn't seem to like anyone but Hagrid, even though the giant man insisted he was a sweet dog. Rabastan was par for the course with Hagrid.
The phone in her hand buzzed once again. So I take it you aren't getting along with Rab?
Hermione snorted. That's putting it lightly. She responded quickly. Just, a little heads up would be nice in the future, Hagrid. Of course, she knew that her landlord meant well and he would never do anything to purposefully upset her.
Closing her eyes, she knew that she needed to get some rest. Surely, she would feel better about it in the morning.
The next day, Hermione decided that she would actually trek all the way to her school's library to study, needing to get out of the house a little bit. The last thing that she wanted was to be distracted with thoughts of Rabastan, or to be tempted to sneak peeks at him out of her kitchen window.
So with her backpack full nearly to bursting, she set out bright and early the next day. When she opened her door, she was startled to find something waiting for her on the stoop. Narrowing her eyes at the crinkling purple paper, she bent over to pick it up, only to find a bouquet of flowers inside.
The flowers were truly lovely - a variety of wildflowers in all colors - and she bit her lower lip to stop from smiling. There was no card, but Hermione had an inkling of just who had given them to her. Well, she had to hand it to Rabastan. If he was trying to woo her, he was going for the stereotypical. First wine, now flowers...what was next, an expensive dinner? However, everything he did seemed to be one step forward, two steps back.
She looked down the steps towards the entrance of Rabastan's flat, but didn't find any evidence of him. They were really lovely flowers, and she wasn't going to let them go to waste by leaving them outside to wither and die. Returning back into her flat, Hermione pulled down a vase and set them in some water.
Leaving the flowers on her kitchen counter, she peered out the window towards the back yard. Rabastan was outside, working on his bike again, bits and pieces of it completely pulled off. Hagrid said that Rabastan was trying to better himself. Yes, his efforts to woo her thus far had been a little bit heavy handed, but if he really had been in prison for ten years, could she really blame him? All of his social cues were bound to be more than a little messed up.
Giving Crookshanks a scratch behind the ears, she decided that she wouldn't be overtly hostile to the man, but she wasn't going to go out of her way to engage him either. If he was really trying, he would improvements. Then, maybe, someday down the line, they could be friendly with one another.
