A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thanks to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter! You can find me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates, and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter thirty and be on the lookout for chapter thirty-one in a few days!
Hermione was excited to return to Hogwarts, if only because it meant that she could shove her head in the sand for a bit longer and forget about all the drama ensuing with her family. Upon her return, she could pretend that her biggest worry is passing her NEWTs and not stopping the darkest wizard who ever lived from destroying the lives of her friends and the rest of the wizarding world. The way it should have been no matter what.
But, in the same breath, she knew that returning to Hogwarts meant that she could not avoid Rabastan any longer. She was going to have to see him — in the Great Hall, in the Common Room, during class — and she was going to have to talk to him. She promised Regulus that she would try.
That didn't mean that she wasn't going to try to put it off as long as she possibly could.
Regulus stayed at her side the whole time that they were at Kings Cross station, saying goodbye to Mother and Father. Hermione resisted the urge to look around for Sirius, seeing as he was now graduated and in the Auror Academy. She had hoped that he would write, sooner rather than later. She wondered if he had heard about her betrothal yet. The family had kept things quiet for now — no need to draw more attention to Bellatrix's mistakes by announcing another Black-Lestrange wedding. There would be too many questions.
Once they were on the train, Regulus found them an empty compartment and put their trunks away. "Do you mind if we just sit together?" Hermione asked, thinking that she wasn't quite ready to jump back into the thick of things with her Slytherin classmates. She didn't know what they would know about the betrothal or how much she should share with them. Would they think it was odd? Would they treat her any differently?
Regulus didn't answer, but used his wand to put up a few notice-me-not charms on the compartment door, while Hermione got comfortable in her spot near the window. The train had just barely begun to pull away from the station when the door was pulled open.
"Regulus, I thought —" Hermione said, looking up, only to be stunned into silence when she saw that it was Rabastan standing in the doorway.
"I'll give the two of you some time to talk," Regulus said, walking towards the open door.
"No, Regulus, don't," Hermione begged, not wanting to be left alone with him. She wasn't ready for this inevitable talk. She'd thought she could avoid it for another week at least.
But, her brother was already out of sight, the door shut behind him, his protective spells ensuring that the pair of them wouldn't be disturbed.
"He really is a little traitor," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest, wondering how he'd sold her out so quickly. There was no way that the two of them hadn't had this little bait and switch planned.
Rabastan found the seat opposite of her and leaned forward on his thighs, staring at her. After less than a minute of silence, he was breaking. "Please look at me, Hermione," he pleaded. "I can't stand to have you avoid me any longer. Hasn't this gone on long enough?"
She didn't want to look at him, but her eyes snapped to him. He was as attractive as she remembered, though it seemed he'd become more angular over the summer. The sharpness of his jaw was balanced by the timid quirk of his lips, hoping that she might finally give him a chance now that they were alone. He ran his long fingers through his dark hair, the sunlight revealing the reddish undertone in the strands. Rabastan hadn't changed into his uniform yet and it made it harder to see him as just her classmate that she'd revised with the year before.
Hermione wet her lips. "I don't — I don't know what we have to talk about," she said, churlishly. She would continue to deny the truth, until she couldn't anymore.
Rabastan chuckled, flashing her one of his crooked half-grins, before rolling his eyes. "I can think of plenty of things that we have to talk about," he quipped. "We used to chat plenty in the library. But are you really going to ignore the biggest topic of conversation between us?"
"For as long as I can," she confirmed.
He sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't think that we have the luxury of avoiding things any longer," he said, boldly forging ahead with this discussion. "We are going to be married when the school year comes to an end."
Hermione swallowed, hearing him say it like that made it seem so final. "We don't... we don't have to go putting absolutes on things," she argued. "I am sure that you could tell that I wasn't exactly enthused at being dropped into a pact that I never agreed to because of Bellatrix's foolishness and I know that you probably hate me as well —"
"Hate you?" he asked, leaning closer towards her, like he wanted to bridge the gap between them. "What could have given you that impression?"
She scoffed at him. "I have not forgotten our last discussion at Hogwarts, Rabastan," Hermione said fiercely. She didn't want to cry in front of him, so she tried to keep her emotions out of it. "I saw how worried you were at the thought of me being a blood traitor, like my older brother, but now you know the truth of what I am and I can't imagine that you are thrilled at being forced to marry me."
"What you are?" he asked, blinking as though he didn't understand.
"Well, yes, now you know that I'm born from a squib line — four at that! — and you can probably figure out that I was muggle-raised until the Blacks found me, and..." she trailed off, determined not to cry, but she could feel the tears prickling at the back of her eyes, the knot that formed in her throat. It was so stupid. None of this... the truth of her origins... it didn't actually mean anything. She was still Hermione Granger, a brilliant witch. Being muggle-raised or a blood traitor didn't change anything fundamental about who she was at her core. It didn't make her less than, and she detested that she was being made to apologize for... for being who she was born as once again.
"I don't mind," he said. It was the same words he'd said when he agreed to be her match and it made Hermione's stomach twist with worry. "I've always found the way that our families deal with squibs to be awful... they are still family after all. And you being born from squibs is actually far less salacious than all the other rumors about you that I'd heard."
Hermione didn't know if she could believe him, no matter how honey his words were. "But it would be different if I was a blood traitor?" she questioned, watching his face carefully.
"I..." he trailed off, his sea glass-colored eyes dropping to his lap while he carefully considered his words. "I was actually worried about your family finding out about you speaking to Sirius. Rather, about what they'd do to you — how you'd find yourself if they disowned you, too."
"You were worried about them disowning me?" she asked, a humorless laugh bubbling up in her chest.
"Well, yeah, no one knew who you really were to the Blacks," he said, his eyes softening when he looked at her. "I wasn't sure... if they disowned you... if you'd be able to land on your feet as easily as Sirius had."
It was surprisingly touching and Hermione felt her stomach twisting around and she wasn't sure what to think. "So you really don't hate me?" she asked, feeling her voice croak.
"I could never hate you," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione thought about all of the secrets that she still had — everything that she was still keeping from Rabastan — and she wondered if that could possibly be true. Would he hate her if he knew that she'd been fighting Voldemort for years? That she wasn't even born yet?
"Okay," she said, after a beat of silence. She supposed that she would just have to hope that he was telling her the truth when he was making that sort of promise. Those tough conversations could happen later, when she trusted him more.
"Okay what?" he asked, a dopey grin on his face once again.
"Okay we can talk about... about the wedding," she said, though it still physically hurt to say the word. "This has not been easy for me to accept. Now that you know about my family — my real family — I am sure you can understand that I never dreamed I'd be in this sort of position."
Rabastan nodded, looking at the landscape speeding by out the window. "I never expected an arranged marriage either," he admitted. "I'm not my father's heir. There are less impositions put on me than Rodolphus, but I will do as I'm asked."
Imposition. That word clanged around in her brain and a dangerous part of her whispered that it hinted at his true feelings. He didn't want this marriage, same as her. She was being imposed on him. He didn't want her. But he would suffer her because he was being asked to do so.
He waited for her to say something, but when she didn't fill the silence, he continued talking. "I don't think that it will come as a surprise to you, Hermione, but I respect you a great deal," he said, without any hint of guile in his voice. "I think that you are brilliant and powerful and impressive."
"You don't need to flatter me," she said, sheepishly. "We are already betrothed."
"And, I'd really like to be friends with you... again, maybe?" he asked. "I mean, I thought that we were friends at the end of the year, but you've avoided me at every possible turn, so I'm beginning to think that we might not have been."
Hermione sighed. "No, that was just me running away from... uncomfortable conversations," she admitted, knowing that she didn't want to have to think about these things. But, she did have to think about them eventually. It wouldn't go away if she never thought about it. "We are... we are friends, Rabastan."
And how could they not be friends, after the year they'd had before? All that time in the library chatting away while revising? Or the times that he'd helped protect her from Bernie? Laughing at some joke he made while walking from one class to the next.
Rabastan exhaled, obviously relieved to hear that they weren't going to have to start completely over. "I'm glad," he said, giving her a smile. "I think that... with our friendship and mutual respect, we can figure this out together — figure out how to live with one another."
Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say, exactly.
"And, I know this might make me sound a little bit naive, but, I think with time, that we might eventually find love," he said, twin points of pink appearing on his cheeks.
Her own cheeks were pink as well at the thought of it. Love? With Rabastan Lestrange? Was it the possibility of love that was making her heart hammer against her rib cage? "Rabastan, I —" she couldn't complete her thought, too lost for words.
He shook his head. "Unless you'd prefer Rodolphus," he ground out, like it physically pained him to suggest. "If you don't think you could tolerate me as your husband, I will tell my father and — and he can reinstate the betrothal with Rodolphus. He's... he is the heir and he might be crude, but he'd do it, if that's what you wanted."
"No!" Hermione rushed to say, shaking her head forcefully. "I... I wouldn't prefer Rodolphus to you, Rabastan," she admitted, looking out the window embarrassed. "You are preferable to your brother for me."
Rabastan relaxed once again, a weight lifted off of his shoulders. "Good," he said, trying to sound cool, but she could tell that he was relieved.
"Want to... want to talk about something else?" she asked, needing to pretend like things were normal between them once again. "What NEWTs did you decide to continue with?"
School was a safe topic — a topic that didn't make her heart race or her cheeks go hot — and they reviewed the classes that they were likely to share with one another. They had four together, same as the year before, and they had already made a promise to revise together again. And by the time that they arrived at the castle, Hermione could almost pretend like things had gone back to the way they were before their betrothal was decided.