Hermione woke with a start the morning after her wedding.

Remembering where she was, she instantly stilled and kept her eyes shut gently, to give the illusion of sleep. She could feel the sun on her face, which meant that it was at least morning. Inwardly, she cursed herself for falling asleep so easily last night. She had been planning on taking Rabastan's wand after he fell asleep himself.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked with her peripheral vision in her husband's direction. He was still, except for the gentle up and down of his chest, telling her that he was still fast asleep. Quietly, so as not to wake him, she slowly sat up and looked around. Just as she expected, his wand was there on the nightstand, just waiting for her to snatch.

Not trusting herself to get up from the bed and walk all the way around the bed without making a sound, she decided to reach over him to get the wand. Getting on her hands and knees, Hermione moved as slyly as a cat, reaching over Rabastan's sleeping body. With her arm outstretched, she was just fingertips away. But, she didn't account for the length of her curly hair.

With a squeak of surprise, Hermione was pulled against Rabastan's muscled chest. Feeling the warmth of his body had Hermione quaking in her boots. His hand was tightly around the wrist of the hand that had nearly grabbed his wand, while his other arm was wrapped around her body, holding her against him. He chuckled at the shocked look in her eyes.

"Naughty wife, you weren't planning on trying to get my wand, were you?" he teased.

Hermione blushed from the embarrassment of being caught. Surely, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were both mostly naked and pressed intimately together. She could feel his cock hardening against her thigh. Resisting a sneer, she pushed that thought from her mind.

"I wouldn't have to if you would just give me back my wand," she argued, defiant as ever.

Rabastan gave her another small smile before rolling her so that she laid flat on her back, and he caged her in from above. "I will give you your wand back when you can prove that you can be trusted with it," he promised.

Hermione let her annoyance take over. "You can't just take away a witch's wand. It's a part of me. I feel naked without it," she admitted to him.

The lascivious grin tipped her off to her entendre. "Are you sure you don't feel naked because you essentially are?" he questioned, letting his fingertips trace the lace edging of her bra.

Hermione watched those long fingers with baited breath as they danced dangerously close to the tops of her breasts. She felt her nipples harden in desire, traitorously. Remembering where she was, Hermione immediately began to struggle. "Get off of me," she hissed, upset that he would take such liberties with her. "I want nothing to do with you."

A bit of hurt flashed on his face, but Hermione dismissed it out of hand. Still, Rabastan dutifully let go of her arm and rolled off of her.

Hermione laid still for a moment, before deciding to act. "Didn't you say something about explaining the Lestrange vows to me last night?" she asked, testing her luck. She supposed that in order to get out of this situation, she needed to learn as much as she could about it as possible.

Rabastan nodded. "Yes, but for that, we will need to go to my ancestral home," he answered, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "We can do that after a bit of breakfast and once you change."

Once the word breakfast was out of his mouth, Moffet appeared in the room with another house elf, each one carrying a tray with breakfast. "Mistress Narcissa thought breakfast in bed was best," Moffet said solemnly, handing Hermione her tray.

Hermione awkwardly sat up, trying to pull the sheet up with her, so as not to expose her still naked torso. This breakfast was much more substantial than the one she had yesterday, including scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, and a glass of pumpkin juice to wash it all down. Rabastan's plate was the same. Hermione frowned. Narcissa must have thought they worked up quite the appetite last night.

Once Rabastan began to tuck into the food, Hermione decided that she should do the same. There was no point in not eating her food. Still, the silence that settled between the newly married couple was stifling. What did one ask your Death Eater husband over breakfast? Torture and kill any Muggles lately, darling?

At least, Hermione thought, she had something other to focus on besides her nearly naked companion beside her. He was much tanner than she would have expected for someone who'd been locked away in a prison for the past thirteen or so years. But, before long, breakfast was cleared away and Rabastan stood up, strutting over to the wardrobe with nothing on but a pair of boxer briefs.

Hermione didn't bother to look away, as she was curious to watch how each individual muscle moved together in his body as he walked. To her surprise, the wardrobe was full of his clothes, but still none for her. She watched as he quietly dressed himself for the day, before turning to stare at her.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day or are you going to get dressed as well?" he asked, clearly not embarrassed at her leering at him.

Hermione looked down at her lap. "I don't have any clothes," she said quietly. It felt like such a vulnerability to admit this to him. She was a pathetic little fool.

"Why the hell not? What did you do with them?" he asked, perhaps not thinking about what she was doing in Malfoy Manor.

It did, however, fill Hermione with ire. "I was kidnapped from my home. I didn't exactly have time to pack," she sneered at him.

Realization dawned on his face and a bit of compassion, she thought. "Why don't you go take a shower. I will go find Narcissa and find something suitable for you," he suggested.

Hermione looked at him in suspicion before finally nodding her head in agreement. What if this was just a ploy to rid her of her bra and knickers? He could just divesto her if that was his aim, she finally conceded. If he wanted her to be naked, she would be.

Once he'd left the room, Hermione stood from the bed and made her way to the shower. Stripping from her bridal wear, she stood under the warm jet of the shower, letting all her troubles go with the water down the drain. But, she couldn't stay in denial for too long, and eventually she had to leave the warmth of the bathroom.

Someone had left a silk robe on the back of the bathroom door, which Hermione gratefully slipped into before venturing out into the main room. On the bed was laid a rather practical, nude set of bra and knickers, as well as a blue and white set of robes. It was much fancier than anything she would usually wear, but it was better than nothing. She set about stepping into the smooth fabric.

When she was just finishing the final button on the robes, Rabastan reentered the room, with a bright smile on his face. "There you are. Now you look just like a proper pureblood," he said.

Hermione felt dread settle in her stomach, but didn't acknowledge his words. She figured that was meant to be a compliment, but she certainly didn't take it as one. Her breath caught in her throat as he moved to stand behind her.

"Here, let me help you with your hair," he offered.

Her hair was still wet from the shower. She wanted to tell him that drying charms didn't work on her hair, but decided to let it frizz instead. She wasn't going to sit back and fill the role of proper pureblood with perfect hair and perfect clothes. When he didn't start swearing as the charm was applied, Hermione frowned, grabbing a lock of her hair. It was smooth and curly, but still untamed. How he'd achieved that she was uncertain, but it only made her hate him a little more.

He walked to stand in front of her, his light green eyes meeting hers. They stood, staring at one another, memorizing the other's face for a few moments. This was the first time she'd really looked at him. He was younger looking than she expected, with thick eyebrows and captivating eyes. His nose fit his face perfectly, and was slightly upturned at the end. He had the hint of a scruff on his cheeks and around his mouth. And his mouth…Hermione flushed in embarrassment. Why was she so drawn to this man?

Rabastan offered his arm, which Hermione took silently, not trusting her voice to speak at the moment. Before long, she was feeling the uncomfortable squeeze of long distance side-along apparition. When they arrived, they were standing in front of the back porch area of a beautiful white house.

They were right on the coast. Not only was the sun shining on the bright blue water, but the sound of waves permeated the air, and a salty smell filled Hermione's nose. The house was smaller than she was expecting, having just come from Malfoy Manor, which had wings, and looked like it probably contained about ten bedrooms in three storeys.

Each little window was gleaming in the sun, and it was wholly picturesque, not at all what Hermione was expecting for a Death Eater household. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she finally asked. "Where are we exactly?"

Rabastan smiled at her, showing a glimpse of pearly white teeth. "Jersey. Don't tell me I've completely lost my accent," he teased.

Hermione was surprised to hear that. Located closer to France than Britain, Jersey was an island with murky membership to the United Kingdom, and even murkier ties to Wizarding Britain. It was much more beautiful than she was expecting. "To be fair, you hardly even have an accent. So far I've only heard it when you've been drinking," she answered, having picked up just a hint of French intonations.

Rabastan laughed, a deep throaty rumble, and placed his hand on the small of her back in a surprisingly intimate gesture. "Shall we go inside?" he asked.

Hermione tried to remove the feeling of his hand from her body from her mind before nodding in agreement.

The interior of the house was stunning. Just inside the garden was a lovely sitting area, done up in bright blues and creams. It looked like a cozy area for small gatherings or Sunday mornings reading the paper. The dining room and kitchen were next. Both were rustic but still hinted at elegance.

In the kitchen was a little old House Elf puttering away. Hermione gathered he was called Maurice from Rabastan's short conversation with the creature, but she didn't say anything about it. Rabastan gave her an amused smirk when he noticed her pursed lips.

"I have heard that you don't care for House Elves," he said.

Hermione, deciding it wasn't worth the argument, turned and left the kitchen without acknowledging him. Next Rabastan showed her the upstairs. There were many bedrooms, though one or two were being utilized as an office. The master bedroom was cozy like the living room, with a balcony overlooking the sea. Hermione sighed, seeing the sun glint off of the waves. If only this was hers under different circumstances.

Rabastan nudged her away from the window. "Come. I think you will like what is next," he commanded, leading her back down the stairs to the library.

Hermione couldn't help the gasp that left her throat. Every wall was covered in books and there was a cheerful fireplace in the corner. The chairs looked comfortable and inviting. He was right, she did like it. Suddenly suspicious, she turned to look at her husband, who was watching her with unveiled interest. "I hope you don't think that you can buy me off like this," she said disdainfully.

Rabastan had a sad smile on his face then. "I wouldn't dream of it. Just, they told me you liked to read. And I thought you might get some enjoyment from this room," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione bit her lip. "What do you mean 'they' told you about me? Why are you even bothering with me at all?" she wondered aloud.

Rabastan indicated the door and led her across the hall to the room where the family tapestry was held. Hermione sucked in her breath to see the tapestry. It was immense up at the top, but towards the bottom the number of names dwindled.

"You wanted to know about the Lestrange vows?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, walking over to where her face now appeared on the tapestry — 'Hermione' brightly emblazoned above her picture.

"Lestranges often have arranged marriages. The vows were created so that an underage person might be married before they really understand the concept. Sometimes children as young as three were married," he described, pointing out one or two instances.

Hermione spun around, horrified. "That's barbaric," she said firmly.

Rabastan shrugged his shoulders. It didn't really bother him because he had grown up knowing it. "That's why consummation of the vow is not required and why I didn't need you to say anything during the ceremony," he explained.

"Well, small miracle that is," Hermione mused, before turning to review the tapestry again. Next to Rabastan's picture was that of his brother, Rodolphus. Next to him was his insane wife, 'Bellatrix Black' emblazoned above her picture. Hermione was confused. "How come some women don't have a surname attached to their picture?" she asked, noting that she wasn't the first, but that they were few and far between.

Rabastan cleared his throat. "Continuation of the family name is what is most important to my family. In the past, women have been married with less than pure blood, though you are the first...Muggleborn," he explained.

Hermione stood and frowned. "So, I was chosen to produce an heir for house Lestrange. Surely your family had Bellatrix in mind for that job," she countered.

Rabastan frowned. "It's important to have a sane and stable heir. The Blacks have mingled amongst themselves too many times and produced less than desirable attributes. Bellatrix was already crazy, but furthermore, she is barren. The vows require fidelity and they are binding...until death do us part," he looked at her, waiting for her reaction.

Hermione took a deep breath. "So why choose me? Your child — not that I am even agreeing to having one — would be a half-blood."

Rabastan shrugged again. "The Dark Lord knew that I needed to continue my family. You were a thorn in his side, helping Harry Potter outsmart him time after time. Without you, Harry Potter is weaker. And I...I get an intelligent bride," he answered. Rabastan stepped closer to her. He took his hand and let it trace along her cheek. "Though no one told me that you were quite so pretty."

Hermione felt all of her breath leave her body, before she could steady herself. "You want an intelligent bride? What could you possibly want with that?" she demanded, not wanting to fall for the briefest intimacy.

Rabastan gave her a devastating smile. "Well, before Azkaban, I was somewhat of an intellectual," he admitted to her. "Unfortunately I was sentenced before I could take my NEWTs. I had planned on an Arthimancy mastery."

Hermione looked annoyed when he said that. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom then," she snapped. She suddenly wanted as much space between her and Rabastan as possible and took a step back.

"I didn't torture them." Rabastan said quietly.

Hermione felt rage bubbling up inside of her. "Of course you did. You were sent to Azkaban for it. Hell, you should still be in Azkaban," she argued. She could not allow herself to forget that at his core Rabastan was a Death Eater.

Rabastan shook his head. "I was there, but I didn't raise a wand to them. I was still too young to produce a Cruciatus curse," he admitted, eyes to the floor as if he were admitting a weakness.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Things just weren't adding up. She was certain that she could produce the torture curse if she needed to and she was only just eighteen. Certainly, someone who grew up in a family of dark wizards would be able to perform one well before that. "Explain," she demanded.

"I had just finished my sixth year at Hogwarts. I went with Rodolphus and Bellatrix and Barty, but I didn't participate. I wasn't able to," he said. Rabastan wanted Hermione to know the truth, but also didn't want to mislead her into thinking that he did it for some noble purpose. She wondered if he would have wanted to participate if he could have.

Hermione frowned, even more confused. "But, that doesn't make sense. You had to have been seventeen to go to Azkaban. Otherwise, they never would have sent you," she countered.

Rabastan gave her that same sad smile again. "Oh, Hermione, that didn't matter to them at the time," he answered, sardonically.

"But it's against the law!" Hermione insisted.

Rabastan worked to contain a snort in laughter at how naive his new wife was. "It didn't matter. They were drunk with power at the supposed vanquishment of the Dark Lord. They just wanted all of us Death Eaters out of sight and out of mind. Even Barty Crouch sent his own son to Azkaban without hesitation."

Hermione fumed for a while before turning to look at the tapestry again. She looked at Rabastan's name and traced her finger over the birth date listed. Her mental calculations seemed to support his story. Hermione suddenly felt so conflicted. On the one hand, he hadn't actively participated in the torture of Neville's parents, but he was there, and he likely would have participated if he could have, which made him an awful person. He also didn't stop them. But on the other hand, he was falsely imprisoned and Hermione didn't believe that they should have done that to him either.

And this was the man she was married to.

"So all of this," she gestured between the pair of them, "is to bring new blood into the old pureblood families? Making muggleborn girls give birth to the next generation of Death Eaters?"

Rabastan considered her for a moment, before shaking his head. "There are no Muggleborn girls, Hermione. Only you. You were the only one that this law was ever going to affect, because you are the only one close enough to Harry Potter to make a difference. And if I get an heir out of it, it is a positive," he told her.

Hermione shook her head, her mind completely confused that the whole law should be written and passed just to get ahold of her. "Don't count on it, Rabastan. I won't be consummating the vows with you anytime soon," she insisted.

"What makes you think that I won't just take what I want?" he asked with a frown.

"You would have done it already or insisted on traditional vows where I wouldn't have had a choice," Hermione told him. Really, it was almost considerate of him to insist on the Lestrange vows. But she wouldn't think of that now.

"True," Rabastan conceded, pleased that she saw it that way. "Some day, you will come to me. The vows require fidelity and some day, you will be too curious to resist."

Hermione shivered at his words. She was already more physically attracted to Rabastan than she ever could have imagined. She made up her mind, then, to resist getting too close to him.