A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! Huge thank you to lanamarymack as well for alpha/beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter forty-six and be on the lookout for chapter forty-seven soon!
Rabastan had made a quick getaway and was long gone from the dungeons by the time that she made it out of the Slytherin Common room, but still, she looked down the hallways and the empty classrooms, trying to find where he might have gone. Her next stop was the library, but their usual table was empty and she didn't find him in any of the stacks. Not to mention, it was nearly curfew so Madam Pince probably would have shooed him away to begin with.
She stood in the middle of the library, trying to figure out where he might have gone off to, and wondering why she'd never asked Sirius to give her the Marauder's Map. Surely he wouldn't have been surprised that she knew about it. Cursing under her breath, the idea of the Room of Requirement came into her mind. She and Rabastan had gone there a few times now, so surely he was well familiar with it. It would be a good place to hide.
While she climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, she was reminded that the Room of Requirement was unplottable so it wouldn't have even shown up on the map in the first place. Pleased with herself, she cautiously opened the door, hoping to find her boyfriend within.
Hermione gasped at the room that she walked into. It was an absolutely gorgeous library, with a fireplace on either side of the room and books shoved into every available inch of space. On the far wall, huge windows showed a cozy back garden, though it was nighttime out the windows, so she couldn't really get a proper view.
But, there, in the middle of the room, was Rabstan sitting in one of the plush settees, his eyes staring into the crackling fire that he had blazing. He looked completely glum, not even bothering to look at her when she came into the room or closed the door behind her.
"Wow," she said, feeling rather stunned. "What is this place?"
"It's the library that I'd planned on building you," he answered after a beat of silence.
"Planned? That doesn't sound very promising," she said, walking over so that she could sit next to him. Gently, she cupped his jaw, turning his head to make him look at her. "Rabastan, what's wrong?" she asked, needing to know what was going on in his head.
Rabastan looked completely miserable, but his blue-green eyes didn't shy away from her gaze. He could give her that at least. "Don't know what else there is to say," he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders, before he dropped his head back in a bitter laugh. "I guess I let myself get swept up in the fantasy, but I know... I know that Bernie is right."
"Right about what?" she demanded, some ire bleeding into her voice. She would never let Bernard Rosier be right about anything, as far as she was concerned.
He scoffed. "About you and me," he said, clearly upset. "I guess I let my own yearning for you get the better of me. I knew that you didn't want me — you made it perfectly clear that this wasn't what you wanted — but I let myself hope and now I just have to face the facts that I'm a fool and I have been for however many months. That we could have a happily ever after."
Hermione swallowed, realizing just how much her cagey behavior at the beginning of the school year had hurt him. Even once she'd given into him, they'd never talked about how she'd been before they kissed. And the worry must have festered all this time.
"Rabastan, I'm not going to lie to you —" she said, grimacing when she he made a choking sort of sound when she nearly confirmed all of his fears. "You are right that I didn't want to get married. But, it had nothing to do with you. I thought you knew that."
"Sure," he said, like he didn't really believe her one bit.
"Okay, maybe that's not entirely truthful either," she said, turning her attention to the flames in the fireplace flickering away. She thought again about telling him about coming from the future, but if things between them were so fragile that Bernie could send him spiraling, she knew it wasn't the right time. "I knew that your brother was a Death Eater and I worried that you'd follow in his footsteps. I didn't want a Death Eater for a husband."
"Why? Because you think you're not pureblood?" he asked with a snort.
She swallowed. "No, I can... I can accept that I'm a pureblood, now," she said, scrunching up her nose in distaste. Just because she accepted it didn't mean that she liked it. "I don't like the idea of my husband giving his loyalty to that man. He only cares about himself and he would do anything to gain power and control for himself. I'm not naive of what he asks of his Death Eaters. I do not approve of their tactics, of the joy they take in hurting other people."
"And now you know the truth," he said, with a disgusted look on his face. "I did plan on becoming a Death Eater."
Hermione looked at him, wondering what it was about Voldemort that had so much sway over these powerful families. "Why?" she asked. "What could he possibly give you —"
"He's made many promises," Rabastan cut her off, sounding miserable. "In my world... in my family's world... it's hard not to be led astray by his promises."
She wondered what sort of promises could have driven Rabastan to give his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He had been overlooked for so long — by his father, by his brother. Was it simply the act of being seen as the asset he was that was enough to lead him astray? Was it the promise of his own place?
Or was it because he had some true interest in dark magic and the power he could wield against others? Because if that was the case... maybe he was more like the Rabastan Lestrange from her future than she thought.
"I don't want a wizard who would torture someone beyond the brink of insanity just because he could, without a thought to the consequences," she said, toeing the line of what she was going to tell him. "A wizard who'd orphan a child. A wizard who would go to Azkaban for a master that won't ever fulfill his promises."
"You sound like you speak from experience," Rabastan said, his eyes searching her face for more information.
For another brief moment, she thought about telling him about how she was from the future. About his future crimes. But, she knew that he was too fragile in the moment. "Is it that hard to believe, based on what he's already had them do?" she asked.
Rabastan shuddered. "I don't think that I could do that, if it was asked of me," he said, shaking his head. "I— Some of the things Rodolphus has told me revolted me. But I was certain that I could find a different role. My strengths are... I have other strengths, though I am a capable duelist."
Hermione nibbled her lower lip. "So put your strengths towards your family," she begged. "Put our house in the best possible position once the war is over."
"You don't think that he will win?" he asked. "The Dark Lord seems unstoppable."
"He won't win," Hermione said, confident in that. She wasn't sure how, but she just knew that they would be victorious against Voldemort. They had to be. "But, if he does win, I'm not going to help him do it."
Rabastan turned his body completely so that he could look at her. He was hanging on her every word, looking to soothe the hurts that he felt. "If he does, Rodolphus will look out for us," he said, after a moment.
There was a beat of silence between them, before Hermione realized that Rabastan still thought that she was opposed to him specifically, no matter how much their relationship had evolved over the previous months.
"So, when my family decided that I must fulfill the contract with your family, I was worried that I would end up married to a Death Eater. Either Rodolphus or you, if you decided to follow him," she said, willing him to understand. "But, it wasn't you that I was opposed to."
Again, he made a strangled little noise, like he still couldn't entirely believe her.
"And, I didn't see myself getting married so young, either," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It seems very fast, but I understand your father's position, after what Bellatrix did."
At the beginning of the school year, before she and Rabastan got to know one another better, she'd been determined to fight the actual wedding ceremony to the very last second. It was cruel to make them marry so quickly, especially when she still thought she might be able to get out of it.
But now that she'd gotten to know Rabastan better — now that she cared for him quite so much — now that she knew how he made her heart skip a beat every time he gave her one of those lopsided smirks — that she wasn't going to fight against the marriage any longer. She wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, but she was certain that she would be very happy with Rabastan Lestrange as a husband. A small part of her (a secret part that she would never admit out loud) was even looking forward to the beautiful ceremony that she was sure her mother was planning.
"Are you sure?" he demanded, needing to know that what she said was true. "Because Bernie was right. I mean... I'm sure that you thought I was a fool, pining after you all last year and... I am not blind, I know that my feelings were not returned then."
She turned to face him once again. "I was rather blind to how besotted you were," she admitted. "I was certain that there was no way that Rabastan Lestrange could be interested in me."
"Lies," he whispered, leaning his head closer to her.
"There were even times when I thought you might kiss me, only to be disappointed and certain that I was imagining things," she said, nodding at him.
His fingers delved into her curls, pushing them free from her face, looking like he'd like to kiss her right then. "Why did you want to keep the betrothal secret then?" he asked suddenly, his whole body still when he remembered another counter to her arguments.
Hermione felt herself flush. "Well, I... I find the betrothal thing a bit antiquated as I already said," she explained.
"None of our friends would have found it odd," he promised.
"And, it's a bit vain, but I was... embarrassed that the only reason you would be with me was because of the betrothal," she admitted, out loud for the first time.
"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.
"It's not! Look at you — you are so gorgeous," she said, smoothing her hands against his shoulders. "And I'm... me. Just Hermione."
"I know you are against torture, but I am going to need to torture whoever it is that has you believing that you aren't gorgeous," he said with a smirk. "You are the most gorgeous witch that I've ever seen. Salazar, I even told you as much the first moment I met you."
"I suppose," she agreed, remembering how he'd tried to compliment her on the train. Her cheeks went a bit pink at the memory.
"You are too good for me, Hermione," he whispered, looking at her significantly. "Maybe that's why it was so easy to believe Bernie."
"Well, hopefully I've disabused you of that notion," she said, smartly. "And I've convinced you of how much I love you."
The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she had even realized what she was saying. She bit her lower lip, suddenly self-conscious and wondering if it had been a wrong move to make such a huge declaration like that.
His eyes darkened and he dropped his hand to her waist, pulling her towards him. "Fuck, Hermione, you love me?" he asked, unable to help himself.
She whined a bit, wanting to kiss him and make him forget that she'd said anything at all. "Yeah," she said, eventually.
He grabbed her hand in his, pressing her palm flat against his chest so that she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat under sinew and bone. "My heart feels like it's going to burst," he confessed. "I love you, too. More than you could know."
Unable to stop herself, Hermione pressed her lips to his, finally joining them in the kiss she'd been yearning for since she walked into the Room of Requirement. The sweep of his tongue into her mouth was almost casual, well practiced after several months of dating one another. But this time, it was enough to make her moan, his mouth swallowing up the sound.
Hermione pushed herself up onto her knees, before she found herself across his lap, a leg on either side of his hips. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, until there was not a millimeter of space between their bodies. She loved feeling so close to him, but the feeling of his hard cock between their bodies was enough to make her eyes flutter shut in pleasure. Unable to stop herself, she rocked her hips — a tiny movement, but purposeful — and it was enough to make him groan in response.
He pulled his lips away from her, so he could stare up at her on her perch. "Oh, Salazar, Hermione, do you know what you do to me?" he asked, his voice desperate and needy.
"I think I can tell," she answered, feeling a bit cheeky. She bit her lower lip, trying not to lose her head, but her hips never stopped the slow motion, in a desperate search for a bit of friction. Her body had gone soft like treacle, an insistent throb taking residence between her legs.
She dropped her lips to his neck, peppering kisses on his skin, hoping to leave her mark. There was nothing that Bernie or anyone else could say to make her deny that Rabastan Lestrange was hers. Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt to free him, slowly pulling the material apart to reveal his chest to her. Smoothing her palms along his skin, she was inordinately pleased to know that he was all hers. Later, when they were not at school, she would spend hours examining every inch of his body, and press kisses to her favorite parts.
Her daydream nearly distracted her from Rabastan liberating her from her own Oxford, but she yelped in satisfaction when he pulled her close to him, so that his mouth could find her nipple, her bra pulled down to expose her breasts. His thumb swiped over the opposite peak, sending white hot jolts of pleasure to her core, his hand squeezing the gentle swell of her breast.
"Oh, please," she begged, not entirely sure what she was asking for. Again and again, she rocked her hips against him, her cunt against his hard length, but with clothes between them, she was certain it wasn't going to be enough.
She pressed her hands in between them, finding his button and zip easily enough. She pushed his trousers down, before sliding a hand into his underwear to grasp his cock. She gave him a good tug and then another, watching him go completely hazy with lust, distracted from his task at hand.
"I want you so badly," he said, his head dropping back against the settee to watch her.
"Okay," she agreed, sounding equally as desperate, knowing that she wanted him, too. She wanted to know what he felt like inside of her.
"Fuck, really?" he asked, his voice eager and disbelieving.
Hermione stood up, freeing herself from his arms. Standing before him, looking so utterly a mess on the settee, Hermione felt like something of a goddess when she rucked up her school skirt and hooked her thumbs in the sides of her knickers, pushing them down her hips until they pooled at their feet. The bolt of need that struck her when she saw his adam's apple bob was overwhelming. She didn't want to be parted any longer than she needed to, so she resumed her post on his lap.
He hissed, their bodies pressed together now with nothing in between them. His hands grabbed her arse, giving each cheek an appreciative squeeze, before he pulled her even tighter against him. She moaned, wondering if she should be embarrassed at how slick she was between her legs, knowing that he could feel it.
"We should talk about this," he said, even though it looked like it physically pained him to do so.
Teasing, Hermione rocked her hips against him again. Her eyes flew open when she felt his cock slip between her folds. "What's there to talk about?" she asked. "I want you, too."
"We just — it's our —" Rabastan was utterly unable to focus on anything but the feel of her, she was certain. She was pleased to know just how hopeless she was making him. "Are you sure?" he demanded, finally, his eyes locked on hers.
"Yes," she answered, wanting to get him inside her. "Please, Rabastsan, I just — I need —"
Her head fell back when his fingers found her slippery entrance, sliding inside of her once or twice, before he grabbed his cock and positioned himself against her. She started to slide down, feeling him enter her slowly. It took one or two pauses, but once he was fully seated inside of her, Hermione could think of nothing else.
With his hands on her waist, he gently encouraged her to move up and down, his own hips rocking to meet her. She gasped every time that they were joined, astonished at the delicious press and pull. Salazar, she wondered just why she had been waiting to do this in the first place.
She wrapped her arms around his neck once again, pulling him down in an passionate kiss. She moaned into him, the feeling of his tongue against her own only amplifying the feel of each thrust. It was only their first time together, but she was certain that she would never get tired of it — the feel of his muscles bunching under the soft grip of her hands, the gravelly sound of his voice when he whispered bits of praise to her here and there, the old leather and grapefruit notes of his scent, when she pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder.
She gasped his name when he slipped a hand between them, his thumb finding the firm button at the top of her sex. Immediately, she felt her cunt fluttering around him, quickly pushed to the edge of bliss when he circled the pad of his finger against her again and again. By the time that she actually found orgasm, she was reduced to pleading with him not to stop. Waves of pleasure radiated out from her center, overwhelmed by just how good it really felt.
His strokes stuttered, growing more erratic and deep, before he was following behind her not a moment later.
Hermione collapsed against his chest, feeling rather boneless, while she listened to the wild gallop of his heart. She wished that she never would need to pull herself off of him, content to remain wrapped up in his arms for the rest of her life.
After his breathing had slowed and his heart had calmed, she heard Rabastan chuckle. "Well, that's certainly not how I imagined our first time being," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I didn't even get you fully undressed."
She laughed as well, wondering what exactly had taken over her. "I don't mind," she told him. "Though, I would love to hear — in great detail, mind you — what you'd been imagining."
"Well, there would have been a bed, for one," he said, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back so that he could look at her. "And I suppose, maybe a little more romantic than this library."
"It was perfect," Hermione said, love shining in her eyes. "I wouldn't do it any other way. But, if you are feeling disappointed, I suppose I could let you make it up to me in a proper bed, maybe once we are in our home of our own."
Even if she didn't want to, Hermione pulled herself off of him and looked around on the floor for her wand. She cast a couple of cleansing spells and a contraceptive spell for good measure, before she found her knickers and pulled them back on. Before she did up the buttons on her shirt, she pulled off the chain that held Rabastan's ring around her neck. Slipping it off the chain, she slid the ring onto her ring finger, resizing it so that she wouldn't lose it.
"There," she said, holding it out to show him. "No more hiding, then?"
Rabastan looked ridiculously pleased with her. Grabbing her hand, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I couldn't imagine it on a prettier finger," he said.
Hermione reversed her transfiguration on the chain, and it became a ribbon once more. She handed it to Rabastan. "And here is a token of my affection," she said, smirking at him. "So you will never forget that I love you."
He held it tightly in his hand. "I will cherish it always."