A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thank you to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter! You can find me over on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peaks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter forty and be on the lookout for forty-one soon!
Hermione did not need any incentive or to be cajoled into attending the Slytherin Quidditch matches after the Yule break, not even to wear the white and green striped scarf of the house she belonged to. It did not matter that spring had not yet reared its head in Scotland, despite being into March already, she was bundled up warmly and ready to join her classmates in the stands without argument because Rabastan was playing and she wanted to watch him.
Regulus was more than a little put out that he'd had to twist her arm to get her to watch him play the far more important and dangerous position of Seeker, when all Rabastan had to do was ask her with a silly crooked grin and she was agreeing breathlessly. He grumbled, rather impotently, that she was his favorite sister and surely that was much better than a boyfriend.
She placated her brother with a kiss to the cheek and smirk, while she reminded him that she was his only sister. "And I promise to cheer for you when you catch the Snitch," she added. "Though, try not to do it too quickly because I'd like to watch Rabastan flying in those Quidditch trousers for a bit."
Despite being the architect of their relationship, Regulus was supremely uncomfortable with any discussion that the relationship might have turned physical. To hear that she might ogle her betrothed was enough to have him sputtering and changing the subject.
The Slytherins were the clear favorites to win the Quidditch cup and the day's match against Gryffindor. They had four Seventh Years on the team and it was clear that Gryffindor had suffered now that Sirius and Potter had graduated. They floundered around on the pitch, not really sure what to do with themselves. It was almost a mercy when their Seeker caught sight of the Snitch.
Hermione did not think that she would suddenly become a Quidditch fanatic overnight, but she was excited to cheer on Rabastan (and, yes, Regulus). Rabastan was a natural on the broom, in the same way that Harry was. But, he was also very dedicated and hardworking, setting aside many hours to practice drills and plays with the others, getting Ansel up to snuff in a matter of weeks. She was pleased to see that hard work pay off.
He looked amazing , flying around the stadium, Quaffle under his arm, and his grin when he scored against the Gryffindor Keeper, sliding underneath the hoop at the last possible moment, was infectious. She could hardly keep her eyes off of him. The aforementioned Quidditch pants certainly did not hurt either.
After Regulus caught the Snitch, Rabastan found her in the stands, flying by the Slytherin stands on the way to the dressing room. Hermione grinned up at him, before blowing him a kiss, the most over display of affection that she'd given him with so many of their classmates around. He was pleased, his cheeks flushed and ruddy from the chilly air.
"Come on," Elvira said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "We should get back to the common room to set up!"
There was going to be a party, as there was after every Slytherin Quidditch win, but Hermione was looking forward to spending this one at Rabastan's side, watching him bask in the glory of his hard earned win.
The two witches hurried to their dorm, so that they could retrieve Elvira's records once again. Hermione absolutely did not want to miss Rabastan's return and Elvira did not want to miss Angus's either. The Common Room was full of cheerful students already and once the music was sorted, the witches went in search of some of Mallory's firewhiskey. It was certainly not as high quality as Bernie's, but Hermione was certain that she would never take anything from Rosier ever again.
Hermione was halfway through her firewhiskey when the team finally made their way through the portrait door, freshly showered and ready to bask in the glory of their win. Regulus, as ever, was the resounding hero, as he had caught the Snitch that handed Slytherin the ultimate victory. Hermione watched as her brother lapped up the attention from housemates, stopping to give him a pat on the back or kind words.
But Rabastsan was a man on a mission and could not be waylaid from his course. Once his blue-green eyes found Hermione in the crowd, it was as if nothing else could capture his attention. He walked through everyone, until he was standing in directly in front of her, a broad grin on his face. "Hi," he said, shyly.
"Hi," Hermione answered, grinning back up at him. "Congratulations on winning the game. You were brilliant."
"I didn't think that you liked Quidditch very much," he said, taking the cup from her hand and bringing it to his lips.
"I don't," Hermione assured him rather quickly. And it was true. She did not enjoy Quidditch very much at all, especially not the way that Harry played it. Regulus was a wonderful Seeker — daring and quick — but Harry played so recklessly, like he didn't even consider the possibility of the ground coming up to meet him or the probability of him getting hurt. "But, I like watching you play it and I know how much you enjoy it."
"You don't need to pretend for my sake," he said, taking another sip of the firewhiskey that has suddenly become theirs, to be shared, passed between one another. "I don't expect that we will have everything in common."
Hermione thought of his arse in the Quidditch pants again and felt her cheeks go hot. She was disappointed to see him now, out of his uniform once again. "I'm not pretending," she whispered. "The sport has not suddenly captured my attention, but you have."
Hearing her say that must have been more intoxicating to him than all the other words of praise that were heaped upon him by others. He looked down at her so completely pleased, that Hermione wondered how often Rabastan is recognized for just being himself.
He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her tight to his side, before deciding that they had to make a lap around the room. They stood and talked with Mallory and Ansel for a bit, getting a refill on the glass of firewhiskey in Rabstan's hands. Mallory told them about her older brother and how he plays for a professional Quidditch squad and Hermione's mind drifted to her former classmate— Cassius, was it? — who must be related to the same man. Did he ever want to play Quidditch professionally, she wondered, before he joined Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad?
They stopped to speak to Regulus for a bit and Hermione was sure to lavish praise on her brother and she thought that her words might just mean a little bit more than all the others. He didn't seem to mind seeing the possessive way that Rabastan held her, or maybe he was just enjoying himself too much to say anything about it.
They avoided the corner of the common room where Bernie was holed up with Barty Crouch Jr and another sixth year, who's name Hermione forgot. Rosier had been iced out by the rest of the Slytherin boys, who didn't want to make enemies of Regulus or Rabastan. Rosier was more committed than ever to Voldemort, eagerly reading about his horrible escapades in the Daily Prophet.
It felt like someone was going missing every week and the newspaper was quick to give salacious details on murdered muggles. Hermione almost couldn't bear to keep up with all the things Voldemort and his Death Eaters were getting away with, especially when she felt so isolated at Hogwarts. Nothing could touch her while she was at school and it was making her a bit complacent.
Rabastan made sure to seek out the reserve player who he had told her would likely be his replacement on the squad next year when he graduated — a scrappy fourth year who Hermione thought looked like a boy in a giant's shadow. Addison Burke was in awe of Rabastan though, and they talked about tactics for a while. Hermione found the substance of the conversation boring, but she found herself watching Rabastan's face, pleased with how it lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about.
Burke asked Rabastan what his plans are for after graduation and Hermione found herself angling towards her boyfriend, eager to hear what he was going to say. They hadn't talked too much about after school yet, both of them thinking that it was better to focus on the NEWTs, but she wanted to know what he thought.
"To be honest, I haven't decided yet," Rabastan said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll try to find a mastery program. I am sure that my father will have a lot to say about it."
Hermione wasn't sure what to make about that. Rabastan seemed to be awfully concerned about listening to his father. She wondered if Arcturus would have any ideas that he would try to impose on her once she graduated, or if she would be beholden to Edmond's whims once she was married. It was no secret that his mother didn't want her to work, but surely they wouldn't stop her from getting a mastery of her own, right?
Burke did not have any questions for her about what she planned to do with her future after graduation, though, so that conversation was left for another time. And really, perhaps it was better left for a time when they were alone, anyway.
When Addison left to chat with friends, Rabastan leaned back against the wall and smiled softly at her. "I like having you at my side," he revealed, looking wistful. "I can imagine one hundred dinners and dances in our future with you supporting me."
Something twisted in Hermione's stomach at that. She was not from the same life as Rabastan was, she hadn't grown up going to balls or parties with other pureblood families. Already, the Black's annual Yule party felt exhausting and she couldn't imagine doing it year round. Or hosting one herself. At least that job would go to Rodolphus's eventual wife.
"Of course," she agreed, even though it made her feel a bit odd.
She took a step closer to him, glad that since they were now officially dating, no one would look twice at the sudden closeness between them. Tilting her head up to look at him, she bit her lower lip, wondering how she could goad him into giving her a kiss. Ultimately, it did not take much and he was pressing a quick peck to her lips — one she was not satisfied with. She pouted at him.
"I wish I could snog you properly," he said, his voice wistful as ever.
"So why don't you?" she asked, wondering what was stopping him.
He made a little face. "Probably better that I don't start kissing you in public. I probably wouldn't be able to stop," he said, before a darker look came over his face. "Unless..."
"Unless?" she asked, feeling breathless, as she so often did around Rabastan.
"Unless you would come up to the dorms with me? Everyone else should be preoccupied. It will be empty," he said, looking around the room, to make a thorough accounting of all of his roommates.
Feeling Gyffindor bold, Hermione was nodding without thinking it through, holding onto his hand while he led her up the stairs to the boys dorms. Rabastan's bed was easy to find out, with the name plate at the foot of it, and so she perched herself on the edge, taking a moment to look around the room. The boys' room was much messier than the girls', with clothes strewn around the room, waiting to be laundered.
Rabastan found a seat next to her on his bed, his cheeks immediately flushed when he realized just how bold his offer really was. But, Hermione wasn't going to let him change his mind, not when she hadn't been properly snogged all day. She surged forward, pressing their lips together. He hesitated for just a moment before he responded in kind.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the fine strands of hair at the nape of his neck and moaned into him when his tongue found her lower lip. Heat blazed inside of her and she was overcome with the need for more. He had been such a gentleman, for so long now, never pushing her further, but Hermione thought she just might combust if they didn't take things to the next level.
Nervous, her fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt and pushed it up. Rabastan got the hint fairly quickly, and pulled the offending garment over his head, revealing his broad shoulders and strong chest to her greedy eyes. Later, she would be embarrassed by the little sound that she made when she drank him in, all planes and hard angles. Her hands smoothed along his warm skin, delighting in watching his muscles jump when she found a particularly ticklish spot.
She even found a new, small scar on his side, her finger touching the circular blemish. "From your dragon pox?" she asked, her voice half an octave lower than usual.
"Yes," he answered, his voice gravelly and low, like he was struggling to maintain control.
Hermione looked at him — the way that he was sitting on his hands, trying to hold back — and huffed a laugh. "It's okay, you can touch me, too," she said.
Then it was as if a dam had broken.
Rabastan reached for her immediately, his hands shaking while he found the buttons at the top of her shirt. Hermione cursed not being able to wear a tshirt, like she would have if she was still living in the 90s, which would be much easier to remove. He was much more deft than she would have been, that was sure, though he grew stilted when the fabric parted to reveal the tops of her breasts, still covered by her cream coloured bra.
"Oh Salazar," he whispered irreverently, before he leaned in to kiss her once again.
She let her eyes slip shut at the feel of his tongue against hers and his hand tentatively cupping her breast. Her nipples pebbled against his palm and she thought that she just might combust, wondering why she'd never done this before. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to keep him close, even as he kissed his way down the line of her jaw and the pale column of her neck, past her decolletage, and further...
"Oh fuck," a third voice came, startling the young lovers.
Hermione felt her cheeks go red hot and she desperately pulled her shirt back together to cover herself, before she looked up to see Ansel was the intruder. He had his hand over his eyes in an effort not to see anything he shouldn't. He walked directly into the trunk at the end of his bed and swore once again.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he babbled away, rummaging in his trunk. "I just spilled on my shirt and figured I would change it and I'm sorry. I didn't see anything. I'll go, I'll go."
It would be funny to look back on, Hermione decided, but she was far too mortified at the moment to laugh. She focused on covering up and Rabastan did the same, while Ansel made a speedy retreat. Once he was gone, Rabastan fell back to the bed with a groan.
"Well, that was less than ideal," he said. "I suppose the dorm wasn't the most private of locations. I just want you so much... I guess I didn't really think it through."
Hermione smiled, hearing that, before she scrunched up her nose, wondering why she'd never thought of the one place in the castle that they'd almost be guaranteed a bit of alone time. If they wanted it. "I might know a place," she said, reaching over to grab his larger hand in her smaller one. "But, maybe some other day. Ansel ruined the mood, didn't he?"
"Yeah," Rabastan agreed, pulling her up to standing. "Let's go rejoin the party before anyone else decides to barge in."