Worth Fighting For
Title: Worth Fighting For
Author: Vickie
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Pairing: Hermione/Rabastan
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 3427
Warnings: Lemons, Coarse Language
Summary: "Everything is black and white to you, isn't it? Rabastan asked. "Right and wrong, good and evil. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no black and white, only shades of grey."
Author's Notes: Thanks to AlexisRose for betaing this for me. This was a gift for pelespen for the hermione_smut I mixed a couple of prompts up, choosing There is no black or white, only shades of grey, and Sex in the snow. Participant banner made by the talented calistokerrigan
~*~*~
Shadows danced across the walls of the barely lit room as a cool breeze drifted through the open window, raising goose bumps along her heated flesh, as she lay panting on top of the covers. Her skin was slick with sweat as she came down from her recent high. Her eyes closed when she felt his hand caress her stomach. She swore the previous episode would be the last time, but here she was, not one month later back in his bed.
She pushed his hand away and sat up, wrapping a sheet around her naked body. Standing up, she walked over to the window. She rested her forehead against the cool windowpane and let out a sigh. Hermione’s body was screaming at her to climb back into the bed with him, and experience the pleasure only he was capable of giving her again. Her head told her to get dressed, walk away and never look back. They could have no future beyond the foolish dreams they whispered to each other in the darkness of the room. Her heart was in turmoil; it both loved and hated him. She yearned for him in the still of the night when everything was quiet and all she had to answer to was her own conscious, but in the light of day when the truth of what he was, who he was, was laid bare for her to see, she hated him and all that he had done.
The sound of rustling drew her attention back to the bed. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he rose and made his way towards her. A tear slid down her cheek and she turned to look out the window again. She felt his hands slide around her waist, holding her closer to his naked body.
Staring out the window, she took in the beauty of the night; a blanket of snow covered the land giving the sense of a serenity she wished she felt. The stillness of the night was in stark contrast to the turmoil that was raging in her. She tracked a bead of condensation down the windowpane with her finger.
“You are over thinking things again,” he said, placing a kiss on her shoulder.
“I always do,” she replied, giving a little laugh, which held no humour.
“You need to let it all go. Stop thinking, and just feel.”
“It’s not that simple,” Hermione sighed.
“It could be.”
“No, it couldn’t. While we are here in this room, the outside world ceases to exist. You make me feel things I have never experienced before, a passion so strong that it makes me burn, consuming me, heating me from the inside until I am nothing more than a slave to it… pleasure that leaves me gasping and begging for more. But when it’s over and I walk out that door, the real world returns in full force, dragging me back to reality. And that reality is that this is wrong. We can never be together outside of this room. We both chose the path we follow a long time ago, and we chose different paths. They would never accept us.”
“So you are not even willing to try?” he fumed, storming to the other side of the room. “They won’t accept us, so why should we even bother. Why let something as insignificant as our feelings get in the way of public opinion?”
“Are you willing to introduce your Mudblood girlfriend to all of your pureblood friends?” Hermione retorted.
“I have never called you that,” he spat.
“No, but many of your friends have. You think they would accept us? You think the Malfoys would invite us over for a spot of afternoon tea? We could all sit in the room where your sister-in-law tortured me and laugh about it.”
“Do you honestly believe that I find any humour knowing that you were tortured beneath the wand of Bellatrix? I know what she was capable of, I have experienced it first hand. Knowing that you suffered at her hands causes me pain you cannot imagine.”
“Why? I’m just a Mudb-”
“Do not refer to yourself as that,” Rabastan growled. “I have never thought of you as it.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Hermione scoffed.
“Believe what you will, but it is the truth. From the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. I do not for one second believe that you have dirty blood; your strength, your intelligence, your magical ability proves that you are someone of worth, that you are more than those who try to hold you back.”
“Still a purist at heart, aren’t you Rabastan? I am no different from every other Muggle-born witch or wizard. Those who you do think of as Mudbloods.”
“Everything is black and white to you, isn’t it?” Rabastan asked. “Right and wrong, good and evil. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no black and white, only shades of grey. Yes, I was a Death Eater. I have seen and done things you cannot imagine, and very few of them good. I have committed acts of unspeakable evil, and when I was doing them I thought I was doing the right thing. It is easy to believe in something, but very hard to stop believing. I can regret my past and wish to change it all I like, but I never can. I can only move forward.”
“You think it is that easy?”
“Nothing in life is easy, you should know that by now. But there are things worth fighting for, and I believe what we have is one of them. I have been fighting for you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Before you even knew me, when I was just another faceless Death Eater. I wanted you when I wasn’t allowed to. I’m tired of hiding it, Hermione. I’m tired of pretending that you mean nothing to me outside of this room. I know it won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. What we have is worth fighting for.”
“How can you be so sure?” Hermione asked.
“How can you not?” Rabastan countered.
“Because I’ve seen too much in my life to just accept your words without reservation. Barely anything has changed since the end of the war. I’m still considered a second-class citizen. I have been vilified in the press since I was fourteen years old. Words of love, acceptance and equality are all very good, but they mean little. Purebloods are still treated better than anyone else. It is easy to say that what we feel is all that matters here and now, but what about in a month from now, or two months? When you are receiving hate mail for dating someone who many believe is beneath you. When you are insulted in the street, or when your friends turn their backs on you.”
“I already receive hate mail. I have been attacked on the streets for what I did in the service of the Dark Lord. Many of my so-called friends have already turned their backs on me.”
“And you really want to add to it?” Hermione asked. “Why not just walk away now? No one will ever know.”
“Because it’s not about them, it’s about us,” Rabastan replied in frustration. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but I love you, Hermione. I was already in love with you when we shared our first kiss.”
“Shared?” Hermione questioned. “I must have a different memory of our first kiss.”
“Okay, the first time I kissed you and you hexed me,” Rabastan laughed. “I have been in love with you for a long time. If this was nothing but a fling to me, I would have walked away a long time ago. I would have never pursued you the way I did. It took nearly a year for you to just speak to me without trying to hex me, and then another six months for me to be able to kiss you, and you did hex me on that occasion.”
“What did you expect? You cornered me in my office in the Ministry of Magic, ranting about how Ernie didn’t deserve me, before kissing me,” Hermione replied, smiling at the memory.
“He didn’t deserve you.”
“I wasn’t dating him, he was just someone I worked with. We had been working on a case and decided to have lunch together.”
“I may have overreacted,” Rabastan reluctantly admitted.
“You were lucky that no one else saw what happened. If they had, you could have ended up back in Azkaban,” Hermione said. “You know how many people disagreed with the Wizengamot ruling, that instead of you being sent back to Azkaban you be monitored and put to work for the Ministry helping destroy Dark artifacts.”
“Would you have missed me if I had been sent back to Azkaban?”
“You know I would have,” Hermione sighed.
“Do I?” he asked. “With all your talk of walking away, I would be a fool not to believe I meant nothing to you other than a good fuck.”
“That’s not fair,” Hermione huffed, “you know how I feel about you, I’m just not fooling myself into believing we have a happy ever after in our future.”
“Only because you are not willing to try,” Rabastan growled, his frustrating growing as he felt they were going round and round in circles. “You say I know how you feel, but I don’t. You have never told me. I have told you repeatedly that I love you, but you have never said it back. You have never hinted that you feel anything for me.”
“What do you want me to say?” Hermione yelled, losing her temper. She didn’t like being so far out of control.
“Tell me how you feel,” Rabastan shouted back at her. “Tell me you love me, or tell me that you hate me. I don’t care; just tell me that I mean something to you other than this indifference. Stop hiding behind public opinion, or what your friends might think. For once, just be honest with me, with yourself…” He moved closer to her and, taking her face in his hands, he lifted it until they were eye to eye. “Just tell me how you feel,” he pleaded.
“I love you!” Hermione screamed at him, tears trickling down her face as she finally admitted what she had been trying to deny to herself. “Are you happy now? I love you, is that what you wanted to hear?” Using her anger as a defense, she continued, “But it doesn’t change anything, we were doomed from the start. I should have stopped it before it began, I shouldn’t have responded when you kissed me after I was promoted at the Ministry…”
“But you did,” Rabastan interrupted her ranting. “You kissed me back, and not once did you tell me to stop, not when I kissed you and not later when I had you pinned beneath me in my bed as I made love to you. In fact, if memory serves me right, you did the opposite. You cried out, begging me never to stop.”
Hermione huffed at his words, but she couldn’t deny them. She vividly remembered their first time. She had just been prompted at the Ministry and had been celebrating with her coworkers at the Leaky Cauldron. She was just leaving the bathroom when Rabastan had approached her, offering his congratulations. But unlike the rest of their colleagues, he hadn’t offered her a pat on the back and a drink. Rabastan had backed her up against the nearest wall and crushed his lips to hers in a spine tingling kiss. Hermione had resisted for all of two seconds before she had returned the kiss, tangling her hands in his hair.
Without thinking about it, Rabastan had Apparated them to his house and proceeded to worship her body throughout the night. Hermione had been ashamed of herself in the morning, and after had informed him that what happened was a mistake and would never happen again. She had Apparated back to her home, where she jumped into the shower and tried to erase the memory of their encounter as she cleansed her body of the evidence. It only took ten days before she found herself back in his arms and bed. He was an addiction she could not overcome; she craved him in a way she had never craved anything else before. She had tried to walk away many times since they had started whatever-it-was between them, but no matter how hard she tried to stay away, she would always find herself back in his arms.
Hermione stomped over to the bed and picked up the dress she had been wearing earlier in the night. Dropping the sheet she had wrapped around her, she pulled the dress on before searching for her knickers.
“Looking for these?” Rabastan asked, holding out a piece of torn lace. “Think you can put them on as quickly as you took them off?”
“And you wonder why I won’t tell people about us,” Hermione sneered, snatching the ruined scrap of underwear off of him, before slipping her shoes on.
“I know why, it is because you are scared. I have to admit I never took you for a coward, Miss Granger,” Rabastan taunted.
Hermione glared at him. “I am not a coward.”
“No, then why are you hiding? Why are you running away? I call it being a coward.”
“Believe what you like, I’ve noticed you usually do,” Hermione spat. Grabbing her coat she slipped it on and stormed over to the bedroom door. Without looking back she yanked it open and hurried out of it, down the stairs and out into the snow.
Rabastan growled as he saw her walking away from him, and pulled on a pair of trousers. “Damn it witch, stop walking away from me,” he shouted as he chased after her.
Hermione ignored him as she trudged through the snow, towards the edge of his yard where she could Apparate from. But before she reached the edge, Rabastan grabbed a hold of her arm and spun her around to face him.
Glaring at him, Hermione tried to pull herself free from his hold. “Let me go,” she demanded.
“Do you ever tire of giving orders?” Rabastan asked.
“Go to hell,” she spat, her eyes full of fire as she glared at him.
“Already been,” Rabastan replied before crashing his lips to hers in a forceful kiss.
Hermione pushed at his shoulders as she put up the token resistance to his advances, before sinking into his embrace and returning the kiss. Threading her fingers in his hair, she pushed her body closer to his, moaning as she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her leg.
Rabastan fisted his hands into her tousled locks, as his lips moved over hers with a bruising intensity. He ran his tongue over her plump lips, forcing them open, and snaked his way into her mouth.
Hermione moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding down his back. She ground her hips against the front of his body in a silent plea.
Spinning them around, Rabastan backed them up towards a large oak tree at the edge of his property. He pushed her against it, removing his hands from her hair and then running them down the front of her body. He pushed her coat off of her shoulders and down her arms. Cupping her breasts over her dress, Rabastan kissed a trail down her neck, taking the straps of her dress with him as he went, exposing her upper body to the cold winter air.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth while he toyed with the other, rolling it between his fingers, before pinching it hard, making Hermione cry out as pleasure-laced pain shot through her body, pooling between her thighs.
Sliding his hands lower, Rabastan toyed with the bottom of her dress, slowly inching it up her legs. Gripping her toned thighs, he lifted her up. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and Rabastan yanked her dress up higher, leaving it scrunched around her waist. He pushed her hard against the tree, holding her in place with his body, and slipped a hand between them. His skilled fingers found her clit with ease, rubbing circles on it and making his witch squirm. Dipping his fingers lower, he tested her readiness, groaning as felt how wet she was for him. He slid a finger inside of her while his thumb continued to make circles on her clit. He felt her hips moving against his hand as he fucked her with his fingers. Dipping his head, he flicked her right nipple with his tongue.
Whimpers of pleasure fell from her lips as she moved against his hand. She soon felt the telltale signs of her orgasm approaching, but then her eyes snapped open as Rabastan removed his fingers from her clenching sheathe. A cry of despair escaped her parted lips as she was denied her release. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse, when she felt his erection against her drenched sex.
He stared into her eyes and pushed forward, sinking into her welcoming heat. He groaned low in his throat as he felt her fluttering around him when he inched his cock into her. He stilled once he was sheathed completely inside her.
“This is right,” he groaned. Lifting one hand, he tangled it in her hair and yanked her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. “No matter what anyone else might think or say, this is not wrong.”
Unable to form any coherent words, Hermione just nodded mutely.
Digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, Rabastan pulled back until just the head of his cock was still inside her. “Right,” he repeated before slamming himself back into her body.
Hermione cried out in ecstasy as he filled her. Moving against him, she slammed her hips down on his every time he thrust into her. The bark of the tree dug into her back as her body became a slave to her passion, her mind shutting down - she just felt.
Rabastan slammed his hips into hers harder and harder, fucking her without restraint. Words of love spilt from his lips as he showed her he loved her in the only way she would allow.
Their lips met in a fierce kiss as they soared higher, their tongues mimicking the actions of their lower bodies.
Breaking the kiss, Hermione gasped for breath as her orgasm washed over her. She clawed at Rabastan’s back and screamed out in rapture, destroying the silence of the nighttime.
Gritting his teeth, Rabastan thrust through her release, the feeling of her tight, wet, heat convulsing around him driving him to the edge. He came with a roar, shooting his seed deep inside her body. He rested his forehead against hers as he got his breathing under control.
“You can run all you like, Hermione, but you will never escape me. I love you, and I want to be with you, but I am done hiding. This…” he paused to kiss her, “is the future. What we have is worth fighting for, and I am prepared to fight, but the question is, are you?”
Rabastan took a step back and let her slide down his body. He steadied her while she regained her footing. Refastening his trousers, he watched her as she straightened her dress, smoothing it down to make herself look as presentable as she could in her just fucked state.
Hermione bent down and picked up her wet coat. Straightening up, she regarded Rabastan, his question running through her mind. Was she prepared to fight for what they had? She had been fighting since she was twelve years old in one way or another. She had been ridiculed time and time again for many of the things she fought for. Was she willing to go through all of that again? Would she be willing to lose her friends once they found out who she was involved with? Would it even be worth it? As she looked at Rabastan, she knew the answer to that question.
Slipping her hand into his, she smiled at him and pulled him back towards his house.
Yes, she thought, it will be worth it.
Author: Vickie
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Pairing: Hermione/Rabastan
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 3427
Warnings: Lemons, Coarse Language
Summary: "Everything is black and white to you, isn't it? Rabastan asked. "Right and wrong, good and evil. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no black and white, only shades of grey."
Author's Notes: Thanks to AlexisRose for betaing this for me. This was a gift for pelespen for the hermione_smut I mixed a couple of prompts up, choosing There is no black or white, only shades of grey, and Sex in the snow. Participant banner made by the talented calistokerrigan
~*~*~
Shadows danced across the walls of the barely lit room as a cool breeze drifted through the open window, raising goose bumps along her heated flesh, as she lay panting on top of the covers. Her skin was slick with sweat as she came down from her recent high. Her eyes closed when she felt his hand caress her stomach. She swore the previous episode would be the last time, but here she was, not one month later back in his bed.
She pushed his hand away and sat up, wrapping a sheet around her naked body. Standing up, she walked over to the window. She rested her forehead against the cool windowpane and let out a sigh. Hermione’s body was screaming at her to climb back into the bed with him, and experience the pleasure only he was capable of giving her again. Her head told her to get dressed, walk away and never look back. They could have no future beyond the foolish dreams they whispered to each other in the darkness of the room. Her heart was in turmoil; it both loved and hated him. She yearned for him in the still of the night when everything was quiet and all she had to answer to was her own conscious, but in the light of day when the truth of what he was, who he was, was laid bare for her to see, she hated him and all that he had done.
The sound of rustling drew her attention back to the bed. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he rose and made his way towards her. A tear slid down her cheek and she turned to look out the window again. She felt his hands slide around her waist, holding her closer to his naked body.
Staring out the window, she took in the beauty of the night; a blanket of snow covered the land giving the sense of a serenity she wished she felt. The stillness of the night was in stark contrast to the turmoil that was raging in her. She tracked a bead of condensation down the windowpane with her finger.
“You are over thinking things again,” he said, placing a kiss on her shoulder.
“I always do,” she replied, giving a little laugh, which held no humour.
“You need to let it all go. Stop thinking, and just feel.”
“It’s not that simple,” Hermione sighed.
“It could be.”
“No, it couldn’t. While we are here in this room, the outside world ceases to exist. You make me feel things I have never experienced before, a passion so strong that it makes me burn, consuming me, heating me from the inside until I am nothing more than a slave to it… pleasure that leaves me gasping and begging for more. But when it’s over and I walk out that door, the real world returns in full force, dragging me back to reality. And that reality is that this is wrong. We can never be together outside of this room. We both chose the path we follow a long time ago, and we chose different paths. They would never accept us.”
“So you are not even willing to try?” he fumed, storming to the other side of the room. “They won’t accept us, so why should we even bother. Why let something as insignificant as our feelings get in the way of public opinion?”
“Are you willing to introduce your Mudblood girlfriend to all of your pureblood friends?” Hermione retorted.
“I have never called you that,” he spat.
“No, but many of your friends have. You think they would accept us? You think the Malfoys would invite us over for a spot of afternoon tea? We could all sit in the room where your sister-in-law tortured me and laugh about it.”
“Do you honestly believe that I find any humour knowing that you were tortured beneath the wand of Bellatrix? I know what she was capable of, I have experienced it first hand. Knowing that you suffered at her hands causes me pain you cannot imagine.”
“Why? I’m just a Mudb-”
“Do not refer to yourself as that,” Rabastan growled. “I have never thought of you as it.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Hermione scoffed.
“Believe what you will, but it is the truth. From the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. I do not for one second believe that you have dirty blood; your strength, your intelligence, your magical ability proves that you are someone of worth, that you are more than those who try to hold you back.”
“Still a purist at heart, aren’t you Rabastan? I am no different from every other Muggle-born witch or wizard. Those who you do think of as Mudbloods.”
“Everything is black and white to you, isn’t it?” Rabastan asked. “Right and wrong, good and evil. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no black and white, only shades of grey. Yes, I was a Death Eater. I have seen and done things you cannot imagine, and very few of them good. I have committed acts of unspeakable evil, and when I was doing them I thought I was doing the right thing. It is easy to believe in something, but very hard to stop believing. I can regret my past and wish to change it all I like, but I never can. I can only move forward.”
“You think it is that easy?”
“Nothing in life is easy, you should know that by now. But there are things worth fighting for, and I believe what we have is one of them. I have been fighting for you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Before you even knew me, when I was just another faceless Death Eater. I wanted you when I wasn’t allowed to. I’m tired of hiding it, Hermione. I’m tired of pretending that you mean nothing to me outside of this room. I know it won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. What we have is worth fighting for.”
“How can you be so sure?” Hermione asked.
“How can you not?” Rabastan countered.
“Because I’ve seen too much in my life to just accept your words without reservation. Barely anything has changed since the end of the war. I’m still considered a second-class citizen. I have been vilified in the press since I was fourteen years old. Words of love, acceptance and equality are all very good, but they mean little. Purebloods are still treated better than anyone else. It is easy to say that what we feel is all that matters here and now, but what about in a month from now, or two months? When you are receiving hate mail for dating someone who many believe is beneath you. When you are insulted in the street, or when your friends turn their backs on you.”
“I already receive hate mail. I have been attacked on the streets for what I did in the service of the Dark Lord. Many of my so-called friends have already turned their backs on me.”
“And you really want to add to it?” Hermione asked. “Why not just walk away now? No one will ever know.”
“Because it’s not about them, it’s about us,” Rabastan replied in frustration. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but I love you, Hermione. I was already in love with you when we shared our first kiss.”
“Shared?” Hermione questioned. “I must have a different memory of our first kiss.”
“Okay, the first time I kissed you and you hexed me,” Rabastan laughed. “I have been in love with you for a long time. If this was nothing but a fling to me, I would have walked away a long time ago. I would have never pursued you the way I did. It took nearly a year for you to just speak to me without trying to hex me, and then another six months for me to be able to kiss you, and you did hex me on that occasion.”
“What did you expect? You cornered me in my office in the Ministry of Magic, ranting about how Ernie didn’t deserve me, before kissing me,” Hermione replied, smiling at the memory.
“He didn’t deserve you.”
“I wasn’t dating him, he was just someone I worked with. We had been working on a case and decided to have lunch together.”
“I may have overreacted,” Rabastan reluctantly admitted.
“You were lucky that no one else saw what happened. If they had, you could have ended up back in Azkaban,” Hermione said. “You know how many people disagreed with the Wizengamot ruling, that instead of you being sent back to Azkaban you be monitored and put to work for the Ministry helping destroy Dark artifacts.”
“Would you have missed me if I had been sent back to Azkaban?”
“You know I would have,” Hermione sighed.
“Do I?” he asked. “With all your talk of walking away, I would be a fool not to believe I meant nothing to you other than a good fuck.”
“That’s not fair,” Hermione huffed, “you know how I feel about you, I’m just not fooling myself into believing we have a happy ever after in our future.”
“Only because you are not willing to try,” Rabastan growled, his frustrating growing as he felt they were going round and round in circles. “You say I know how you feel, but I don’t. You have never told me. I have told you repeatedly that I love you, but you have never said it back. You have never hinted that you feel anything for me.”
“What do you want me to say?” Hermione yelled, losing her temper. She didn’t like being so far out of control.
“Tell me how you feel,” Rabastan shouted back at her. “Tell me you love me, or tell me that you hate me. I don’t care; just tell me that I mean something to you other than this indifference. Stop hiding behind public opinion, or what your friends might think. For once, just be honest with me, with yourself…” He moved closer to her and, taking her face in his hands, he lifted it until they were eye to eye. “Just tell me how you feel,” he pleaded.
“I love you!” Hermione screamed at him, tears trickling down her face as she finally admitted what she had been trying to deny to herself. “Are you happy now? I love you, is that what you wanted to hear?” Using her anger as a defense, she continued, “But it doesn’t change anything, we were doomed from the start. I should have stopped it before it began, I shouldn’t have responded when you kissed me after I was promoted at the Ministry…”
“But you did,” Rabastan interrupted her ranting. “You kissed me back, and not once did you tell me to stop, not when I kissed you and not later when I had you pinned beneath me in my bed as I made love to you. In fact, if memory serves me right, you did the opposite. You cried out, begging me never to stop.”
Hermione huffed at his words, but she couldn’t deny them. She vividly remembered their first time. She had just been prompted at the Ministry and had been celebrating with her coworkers at the Leaky Cauldron. She was just leaving the bathroom when Rabastan had approached her, offering his congratulations. But unlike the rest of their colleagues, he hadn’t offered her a pat on the back and a drink. Rabastan had backed her up against the nearest wall and crushed his lips to hers in a spine tingling kiss. Hermione had resisted for all of two seconds before she had returned the kiss, tangling her hands in his hair.
Without thinking about it, Rabastan had Apparated them to his house and proceeded to worship her body throughout the night. Hermione had been ashamed of herself in the morning, and after had informed him that what happened was a mistake and would never happen again. She had Apparated back to her home, where she jumped into the shower and tried to erase the memory of their encounter as she cleansed her body of the evidence. It only took ten days before she found herself back in his arms and bed. He was an addiction she could not overcome; she craved him in a way she had never craved anything else before. She had tried to walk away many times since they had started whatever-it-was between them, but no matter how hard she tried to stay away, she would always find herself back in his arms.
Hermione stomped over to the bed and picked up the dress she had been wearing earlier in the night. Dropping the sheet she had wrapped around her, she pulled the dress on before searching for her knickers.
“Looking for these?” Rabastan asked, holding out a piece of torn lace. “Think you can put them on as quickly as you took them off?”
“And you wonder why I won’t tell people about us,” Hermione sneered, snatching the ruined scrap of underwear off of him, before slipping her shoes on.
“I know why, it is because you are scared. I have to admit I never took you for a coward, Miss Granger,” Rabastan taunted.
Hermione glared at him. “I am not a coward.”
“No, then why are you hiding? Why are you running away? I call it being a coward.”
“Believe what you like, I’ve noticed you usually do,” Hermione spat. Grabbing her coat she slipped it on and stormed over to the bedroom door. Without looking back she yanked it open and hurried out of it, down the stairs and out into the snow.
Rabastan growled as he saw her walking away from him, and pulled on a pair of trousers. “Damn it witch, stop walking away from me,” he shouted as he chased after her.
Hermione ignored him as she trudged through the snow, towards the edge of his yard where she could Apparate from. But before she reached the edge, Rabastan grabbed a hold of her arm and spun her around to face him.
Glaring at him, Hermione tried to pull herself free from his hold. “Let me go,” she demanded.
“Do you ever tire of giving orders?” Rabastan asked.
“Go to hell,” she spat, her eyes full of fire as she glared at him.
“Already been,” Rabastan replied before crashing his lips to hers in a forceful kiss.
Hermione pushed at his shoulders as she put up the token resistance to his advances, before sinking into his embrace and returning the kiss. Threading her fingers in his hair, she pushed her body closer to his, moaning as she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her leg.
Rabastan fisted his hands into her tousled locks, as his lips moved over hers with a bruising intensity. He ran his tongue over her plump lips, forcing them open, and snaked his way into her mouth.
Hermione moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding down his back. She ground her hips against the front of his body in a silent plea.
Spinning them around, Rabastan backed them up towards a large oak tree at the edge of his property. He pushed her against it, removing his hands from her hair and then running them down the front of her body. He pushed her coat off of her shoulders and down her arms. Cupping her breasts over her dress, Rabastan kissed a trail down her neck, taking the straps of her dress with him as he went, exposing her upper body to the cold winter air.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth while he toyed with the other, rolling it between his fingers, before pinching it hard, making Hermione cry out as pleasure-laced pain shot through her body, pooling between her thighs.
Sliding his hands lower, Rabastan toyed with the bottom of her dress, slowly inching it up her legs. Gripping her toned thighs, he lifted her up. Hermione instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and Rabastan yanked her dress up higher, leaving it scrunched around her waist. He pushed her hard against the tree, holding her in place with his body, and slipped a hand between them. His skilled fingers found her clit with ease, rubbing circles on it and making his witch squirm. Dipping his fingers lower, he tested her readiness, groaning as felt how wet she was for him. He slid a finger inside of her while his thumb continued to make circles on her clit. He felt her hips moving against his hand as he fucked her with his fingers. Dipping his head, he flicked her right nipple with his tongue.
Whimpers of pleasure fell from her lips as she moved against his hand. She soon felt the telltale signs of her orgasm approaching, but then her eyes snapped open as Rabastan removed his fingers from her clenching sheathe. A cry of despair escaped her parted lips as she was denied her release. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse, when she felt his erection against her drenched sex.
He stared into her eyes and pushed forward, sinking into her welcoming heat. He groaned low in his throat as he felt her fluttering around him when he inched his cock into her. He stilled once he was sheathed completely inside her.
“This is right,” he groaned. Lifting one hand, he tangled it in her hair and yanked her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. “No matter what anyone else might think or say, this is not wrong.”
Unable to form any coherent words, Hermione just nodded mutely.
Digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, Rabastan pulled back until just the head of his cock was still inside her. “Right,” he repeated before slamming himself back into her body.
Hermione cried out in ecstasy as he filled her. Moving against him, she slammed her hips down on his every time he thrust into her. The bark of the tree dug into her back as her body became a slave to her passion, her mind shutting down - she just felt.
Rabastan slammed his hips into hers harder and harder, fucking her without restraint. Words of love spilt from his lips as he showed her he loved her in the only way she would allow.
Their lips met in a fierce kiss as they soared higher, their tongues mimicking the actions of their lower bodies.
Breaking the kiss, Hermione gasped for breath as her orgasm washed over her. She clawed at Rabastan’s back and screamed out in rapture, destroying the silence of the nighttime.
Gritting his teeth, Rabastan thrust through her release, the feeling of her tight, wet, heat convulsing around him driving him to the edge. He came with a roar, shooting his seed deep inside her body. He rested his forehead against hers as he got his breathing under control.
“You can run all you like, Hermione, but you will never escape me. I love you, and I want to be with you, but I am done hiding. This…” he paused to kiss her, “is the future. What we have is worth fighting for, and I am prepared to fight, but the question is, are you?”
Rabastan took a step back and let her slide down his body. He steadied her while she regained her footing. Refastening his trousers, he watched her as she straightened her dress, smoothing it down to make herself look as presentable as she could in her just fucked state.
Hermione bent down and picked up her wet coat. Straightening up, she regarded Rabastan, his question running through her mind. Was she prepared to fight for what they had? She had been fighting since she was twelve years old in one way or another. She had been ridiculed time and time again for many of the things she fought for. Was she willing to go through all of that again? Would she be willing to lose her friends once they found out who she was involved with? Would it even be worth it? As she looked at Rabastan, she knew the answer to that question.
Slipping her hand into his, she smiled at him and pulled him back towards his house.
Yes, she thought, it will be worth it.