DISCLAIMER; HP belongs to JKR. The story line and all new characters, new character development, new developments are my intellectual property.

-Chapter 2- The defense of the Death Eater

-Azkaban- The Dark Prince's Declaration

Rabastan Lestrange could not sleep. Tomorrow would be the fourth time that his solicitor would come to see him.

Rodolphus had made light fun of him, "So, Rab, how does it feel to have such an illustrious solicitor?"

"How should it feel? Does it bring me a lot of joy to feel the horror of all the terrible acts we committed for that psychopath? It was better when I didn't feel this consuming guilt and frustration. Furthermore, I wouldn't be here if someone had not inserted a cursed object under my skin. We all behaved like animals, it was disgusting, and I can still hear my victims' voices asking me to let them go; I can see the children we tortured, those are the worst."

As usual his face was ashen and full or resentment.

"Bella insisted. She knew I wouldn't follow the Dark Lord without you. I was young and in love, but it didn't last; I am so sorry, I should have told you long ago what I suspected." Rodolphus told him.

"What do you mean? Are you saying that it wasn't your doing?" This was the first time they had really talked about.

"Whereas I wouldn't have done that to you, I did suspect that you were under an influence. I had given up on the Dark Lord long before that, right when the torture and killings of his enemies started. Our parents were furious; they told me that we behaved worse than uneducated rabid beasts. I already had doubts and was aware of the wrongness of our acts, and they made me see the truth. Plus, I didn't like Bella fucking the Dark Lord, and I had told her how much I wanted to leave." He looked pained and ashamed.

"She told me that you would die if I left her. She didn't want to tell her lover that he was losing two good soldiers, and she must have inserted the curse while we stayed with our parents. I am sorry my brother. I want you to let the Mudblood help you to get out of here, and maybe you can fight for me after that. You could go back home, see our parents and reconcile with them. Father and Uncle had both lost confidence in Voldemort since we were but kids, and I should have listened. Let her help you, it should be a pleasure. I have heard of her hot beauty."

Rodolphus smiled, he loved to see the shine on his younger brother's eyes. He wasn't daft and knew his younger brother well. He deserved a chance to be happy; albeit, he wasn't the only one who had dreamed about the young witch. Yes, he had dreamed of her, along with other unworthy ones; he wasn't different. Gods, he had taken a knife to her. he had done too much damage.

The confession

That night Rabastan Lestrange dreamt of his solicitor. They were under a tree, and she was sitting on his lap in a state of dishabille that was perfect. He supposed they were eating a picnic because they were feeding each other morsels. He must have been inside of her, because of the way his hips thrust, and the pleasure had been divine. When he woke up he was harder than he had been in years. He hated the Mudblood for invading his dreams again; he'd thought that she already was a forgotten memory.

"Mr. Lestrange, I have been coming here for three weeks, and I am tired of wasting my time. All you do is sit there and give me dirty looks. I consider this a lost cause. And by the way, you look awful. Are you well?"

That is me, always compassionate, today it makes me mad. Why should I care how this horrible wizard feels? Hermione thought right away.

He appeared feverish and deranged, and she wished that she had not told the guard to leave them alone and to lock the door.

"No, I don't feel well, and it is your fault; for bringing false hope into my life, and for disorganizing my train of thought," he stood up and came by her side. He put a hand over her head and bent down, his lips touched her hair. She was mesmerized.

"Mon Dieu, you smell divine. You, a damn Mudblood, smell of heaven. Why don't you open the door, leave and forget that you were here?"

Was he crying? She lifted her eyes to look at him. She could hear her heart's disorderly beats. She didn't see any tears on him, and his eyes were closed. Something tugged deep inside her womb, and she recognized the something; it was pure| raw lust.

His hand brought her head towards him while he fell on his knees. Rabastan Lestrange was tall, nearly one foot taller than Hermione. While his brother was broader, Rabastan had the body of a fencer, of a duelist, muscled yet slender; his hands were long and just beautiful, correction he was a beautiful Wizard.

Both Lestrange brothers had long auburn hair, very dark almost black, with unusual highlights, green and maybe blue, and shared the same eye color, an impossible shade of violet.

His head felt light as a float up in the air; it was her perfume, it had intoxicated him. He was acting insane and just held on to her, letting his cheek rest on the top of her head. His hands got lost in her hair while he caressed her neck and back. Shivers ran up his back, and his skin was covered with goose-bumps.

Her hair was very soft, and he didn't remember witches smelling like this. Her perfume was obviously expensive, yet understated; but it was only one component of her fragrance, the other was her own self; he could smell her body and its fragrance was sweet and sensual. His sense of smell was extremely keen; he had been born to make potions, perfumes, and to make fine wines, it was his inheritance.

Her very warm and soft skin made him want her, right here, right now, but that was madness. He sighed deeply time after time; Hermione could feel her back arching, her bottom lifting from the seat, and her eyes couldn't focus. He was whispering words in an old language, they were guttural and strange.

His cadence was needy and urgent. Her body was prepped for him, whatever he asked she wouldn't deny him; they both knew and understood this was the case.

Suddenly, he pulled away from her and sat as far away as he could. He couldn't trust his actions and felt reckless, he felt out sorts as if he were possessed, and he let his body collapse on the uncomfortable bench, then crossed his arms at chest level and observed her. His breath was loud, labored, and irregular, and she could hear it from where she sat.

Hermione was mute, for a minute she thought he was going to kiss her, or to, to what? she wasn't sure. She should get up and call the guard, but she didn't want to. At that very moment, Ron, Harry, the Weasley, the war didn't exist, it hadn't happened. The ache inside of her was uncomfortable; her universe had imploded into the small cell, and even her fingers ached desiring him.

This must be what drives lovers insane, she reflected.

He was lost in her, how had he missed all of this before, or had he? He hadn't, he didn't want to before. He could not think, his entire self was out of control, all he wanted was her. His body was trembling in need; he nearly had an orgasm just standing next to her and caressing her back. His eyes were moist with tears of regret; he mourned the witch that could never be his.

This was sheer insanity, she was married and I am a convict. Most important of all, who knows how she feels about me? I am nearly twenty years her senior, a Death Eater, and at fault or not, I raped and killed many of her brethren. Moreover, I grew up hating her kind, and my brother tried to kill her; by Hades, this isn't right.

Moreover, what if Rodolphus would choose to exercise the Lestrange's old laws once I get the witch? Rabastan was thinking and tormenting himself, but the Rodolphus' matter was worrisome, nonetheless.

He wouldn't be able to deny his brother, the consequences were too dire to even consider.

She had to close her eyes; she could no longer bear to look at him. Pretty soon she was going to embarrass herself and go to him. She was going to make an ass of herself once she'd begged for his touch. Why did she have these feelings? After all, she was married, and he was her client.

She had had hundreds of clients, but she had known since the first day to fear him; no, she had been afraid of her nascent feelings for the secretive wizard. He had always held a special appeal, the other two males in that category had been Draco and his father; holy cow, she was one sick puppy, as her Yank cousin would say.

Her face was delicate and perfect. His mother loved old porcelains, their features were ever so appealing, the full lips, the small nose, the doe eyes, curly hair; he was describing Hermione. He moved closer, and she didn't say anything, however a small whimper escaped her lips. He withdrew and a strangled noise filled the room.

"Je ne sais pas qui se passe ici. I really don't know what is going on here," despair tinged each word. He was as lost as she was.

"I know, same here," her voice was barely audible.

He stretched his finger and closed his eyes. He traced her face gently with the tips of his fingers, and caressed her with his knuckles, a strange motion as if he were blind.

Her eyes looked down and saw his visible arousal, and she moaned again and made a sound she failed to recognize.

She had never believed one could smell an arousal, but she could smell his, and her need became unbearable. She bit her lip not to ask for his finger to go much lower.

"Your face is so soft; you have perfect bones, a fairy. Your lips are so moist, so perfect." He touched inside her lips, her body was arching, and she had never desired anything so much.

"I wonder how your mouth tastes, of apples, mint, or cinnamon." He touched her teeth, her gums. "I want to taste you but I am afraid that one taste just will make me starve for the rest of my life."

He stopped touching her and stood up. He went to the opposite corner and rested his forehead against the wall. She heard a wounded animal sound.

He collapsed and sat against the wall. Although he wasn't crying, he seemed to be in pain.

"Why do I feel as if my body is made out of liquid need? What have you done to me? I hated this place, but you have made it unbearable. Last night I dreamed of you." His voice was full of discontent and bitterness.

"When I woke this morning... I realized a truth that I hid even from myself, for years now; more accurately, since the battle of the Department of Mysteries. After that day, I made it my job to read everything about you; just anything I could get my hands on and contained any references of you. The ones with pictures, I cut and saved, fuck, I still do so."

She wanted to hold his head next to her bosom and take his burden away.

"For Merlin's sake, I am not a pedophiliac, and you were but a child, what sixteen years old? Bella noticed, no wonder, she had tried to have sex with me for years. It is not unusual in my family for two brothers to share a witch, such was my parents union; she knew and had expected the same."

He avoided telling her the rest, about the Lestrange men and their laws. It would kill any future chances, if any.

He was speaking in a monotone, no voice inflections; it was as if it hurt to speak.

She wanted to go and console him. She moved closer and grabbed his hand, it was cold and stiff; he kept it so, he was afraid to allow any sensory gratification that came from her.

"You were a Mudblood and a child, how could I? Bella would taunt me every time she would catch me reading about the golden trio. 'Checking on the young flesh? A Mudblood side dish, ah Rab?'" He noticed how she cringed at the Mudblood word, it was horrible, and he needed to eradicate the offensive word from his vocabulary.

"And whenever I would refuse her, she would submit me to all kind of abject humiliation and torture. I was raped more than once by her and by random chosen ones, by wizards, each time I was left injured and just wanted to die. Those were dark days and I tried to kill myself more than once. Dolphus would always find me, and his anguish made me stop from going through

with the attempts to put out my life's light. Even if there weren't a Bella, how could you have ever wanted someone as tainted as I was?"

He lifted his eyes for a second and looked at their hands. With great effort, as if her hand weighted pounds, he brought it to his cheek and just held it there. She could feel the tremors going through his hand, and the fire between her legs gained momentum.

"I would laugh and deny you, I was a coward. And then I would tell her she was wrong, that all I wanted was to be the one who brought the price to the Dark Lord. One day, I was coming back from a mission, just in time to see Bellatrix taken her revenge on you. I've never seen anything as beautiful, even in your pain," he looked at her apologetically.

"Forgive me my lady, I was not well; Rodolphus and Lucius saw it at the same time, the moment I went for my wand, and they held me back. Did you know little Draco threw up outside of the room? I think that he used to fancy you; as if Lucius would have ever allowed such a union."

He pressed his lips to her hand just once and inhaled her fragrance as he closed his eyes. "It wasn't your pain which hurt me the most; it was the way you looked at the two young wizards with love and affection. I promised to myself that I would kill them with my own hands, the first time I had a chance."

She caught his eyes, and they were not longer apologetic, there was something inside of them, fierceness.

"The rest you know, I was caught, tried, and while in here I read about your wedding to that pimply youngster. It no longer hurt, you were lost. And then you dared to show up here to save me. I knew someone would come but not you; you have re-opened the old wounds; and once again, I wish to kill Weasley with my own hands. The thought of him possessing your body makes me ill, and I cannot block the images from my mind. I feel he is taking what is rightfully mine, and you cannot begin to imagine the agonizing despair, which is now my permanent companion."

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"I wanted to despise you, to hate you, to fool myself, and I am unable. If you still want to help me, tell me what you need me to do. However, you must know that when I am out of here, I am coming to find you, and I will take you away where you can never be found, it isn't a threat it is a fact. Do you want to take that chance?"

His head recoiled, and his eyes gleamed with near malice, they were full of intent; the Slytherin had come out and had questioned her. He had told her the truth, and was enough of a gentleman to let her know his intent. He was giving her a chance to run away.

Rabastan - an open door-

"I want to defend you, and I want to help you." She didn't agree to anything else one way or the other, but they both knew the hidden words.

He pressed both of her palms to his face. "So mote it be." He had heard the implicit answer, and, in his book, she had accepted his terms. In plain English, Hermione Granger-Weasley had signed her life and freedom over to Rabastan Lestrange.

"So mote it be," she repeated and smiled absolutely innocent of what she had agreed. She was sure it was only an agreement to court her when his affairs were organized, and she might be able to handle that.

When she had pronounced the words, she gained unwanted attention from an unexpected source. Love always emits a powerful glow, and she wasn't in the best of places, to have agreed to sign her life away to one who loved you so strong; it shone as a beacon creating awareness at unseen places. Her soul and beauty were lures with the power to captivate the very lonely, and, maybe, the very powerful, and they had done just that.

Both failed to see the shadow that settled over them, and all they saw was a moth flying inside the room that flew near her, and the wings barely touched her face.

After that day, nothing was ever said again, or at least not until the last day. She was always waiting for him to make another move. He never did and behaved like an old world gentleman, while she burned slowly.

His parents came to the trial. Although they were in their seventies, they appeared to be her parents' age, mid to late forties, maybe even younger. They were polite, friendly, and their demeanor a bit arrogant and aristocratic, reminding her of the Malfoy, and they were just as beautiful as their children. When lunch was over, the mother kissed her warmly.

The mother came to Hermione and gave her a warm hand-shake, "Mme. Granger-Weasley, I am forever in your service." And she got closer and whispered, "Please don't hurt him, he is my baby. I know about Mr. Weasley, and, frankly, you are too good for him. I hope you can see that our Rabastan is a prince." Then louder, "Do please consider accepting our invitation. Of course, you must bring your husband as well; we would be delighted."

Hermione still felt uncomfortable with the parents' triad, but other than their devotion for each other, there was nothing nefarious about them.

They had dined in a private dining room to celebrate the victory; predictably Ron had refused to come.

Rab's parents left the room to afford his son privacy to say his goodbyes.

"Hermione, I hadn't been able to tell you how amazingly beautiful you look, an image I am carrying back in my heart." He held her hand against his looked at him dressed as a prince of a bygone era, with his cloak held with a massive gold brooch of his family's crest. He wore a waist coat, tight breeches, hessian boots, a neatly pressed and starched heavy cotton shirt, and a silk cravat. His beard was trimmed short and his hair carefully tied with a velvet ribbon.

She was experiencing difficulty in breathing. he was breathtaking and had that effect over the Ministry's entire female population.

"You don't look so bad yourself," and you smell good enough to eat, she wanted to add while his cologne made her dizzy with want.

"I want to thank you and to remind you, get ready because I am coming to get you. I need to go back home, to organize my life; to hire a solicitor for Rodolphus. I am not asking, I am just giving you notice." He put a finger on her lips, "Hush, not a word, I will neither listen, nor will I be dissuaded. When I gave you a chance to turn me down in the interview cell, you accepted me, and we sealed a vow, remember the words you told me. It is my intention to collect what I have been promised."

He brought her face close to his without touching her body and just held her chin; he rubbed his lips against hers, pressed one soft kiss against them, and let her go. He stepped back, but she tiptoed and held on to his shoulders.

She wanted to kiss him, to tell him not to go. His breathing hitched and he whimpered.

"No, if you touch me, I won't stop and won't be able to let you go. Right now, I don't really know your taste, the feel of the soft and moist petals as they open up to my fingers and my tongue. I don't know how your heat will feel around me as your body welcomes me into your folds."

She knew he was saying goodbye, but his words were making her body burn.

"All I know is how you smell, the fragrance of your aroused musk, the feel of your hair, and the map of your back. I have but pressed chaste lips to yours, so you are but a dream. I can dream, but I cannot starve. If I taste you, if I even open your petals, if I even see the banquet waiting for me, I will forever want to feast upon you. Goodbye for now."

His eyes were moist and hers as well. The heat running through her body had nearly undone her. His words had made her sick with lust.

He ran to the door as if he was being chased by an enemy and opened it. His parents were waiting just outside. She was afraid they would guess by her eyes, and willed her body to calm, but her heart was torn to pieces.

His mother was drying her eyes with a small handkerchief, and his fathers appeared quiet distraught, you could tell neither agreed with their son.

"Thanks so much Mrs. Granger. Au revoir and receive our sincere thanks once again. Please do come and visit, we will wait for an owl to let us know when we can expect you."

She just nodded and was unable to speak. Her throat was constricted. He bowed as if he was a prince in one of those princesses' animated movies, and they were gone. She wasn't the only one upset with the turn of events, but that gave her little solace.

A/N This is goodbye to Rabastan and Hermione for now, but they will meet again soon.