A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

So.... last night I smashed my head into a wall (don't ask) and have a huge goose egg, so I had to take it easy today and hence, your next chapter is up sooner. To answer one reviewers question I will be posting again at Ashwinder but my beta got busy and so I know there are grammatical errors I can't see and I need her to comb through them before I post there again. I am simply so wrapped up in this story I am not going to wait to post it LOL. I did post a lengthy "review" in the review section discussing some issues with the stories and replying to some of the posts. Okay, now to the nitty gritty. *********************************WARNING*****************************************

DUBIOUS CONSENT IN THIS CHAPTER..... SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, STOP NOW*****WARNING OVER*************

Chapter 52- Cotswold Cottage


Hermione sucked in a breath, holding it in awe of the expansive room before her. Dumbledore had considered this to be a cottage? Hardly! Still, it wasn’t exactly a Manor house either. The main living area she stepped into was spacious to say the least.

In an unusual twist even for Dumbledore, the floor was a smooth, unblemished mahogany that seamlessly ran into the three adjoining rooms she could see from her vantage point. Flowing, decorative pieces were scattered throughout the area. She realized with a start this area also doubled as a library of sorts. One corner sported a faux leather wrap-around sofa. A wide, squat mahogany table with a finished granite top stretched around the length of the sofa to accommodate a fair number of people at one time. The customary overstuffed chairs were next to the fireplace and one each in opposite corners of the room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered half of the room. It wasn’t as large as the Weasley library, but Hermione was sure there would be no complaints at the view of dusty tomes just itching to be devoured.

“Well, are we just going to stand here? I haven’t got all day,” Rabastan muttered.

“Sorry,” she breathed, slowly following him through a room to her right and up a twisting staircase. The second floor was pretty standard. Four bedrooms, a shared bath between every two, and a quaint balcony off of one room that opened up so a lady might sit and take tea with a gentleman caller. She blushed internally, musing if she might be able to sit out there with Severus one night.

“This is your room,” he called from the adjoining one.

“I think I want this room, Rabastan,” she replied, flinging open the windows.

“Suit yourself,” came the answer as he plopped her things onto the bed. “Food has been stocked, the place has been cleaned. From now on not one of you is allowed out of here. Minerva’s orders are to continue your work on the Prophecy as I am able to bring you clues. The nature of the work is doubly important.”

A shadow fell across the room as Rabastan’s face tightened visibly. There was a cloud over his eyes and a strain to his features that she hadn’t noticed before. He almost looked like many of the fighters had before the final battle.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked gently, settling one hand on his arm.

He stiffened, notably taking a large step back.

“No. Yes. I mean-,“

Rabastan shook his head. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his eyes burning holes into her.

“What is it? Have I done something?”

“More than you know.”

With extreme self control, he continued. “Miss Granger, I am to be your contact. I will visit twice a week to check on any progress. If I am unable to make it, I will have Minerva let you know.”

She nodded, sensing there was something more.

“Hermione.” Her name was said in a strangled tone.

Rabastan was rooted to the spot. A sort of mist surrounded her body like cool wisps emanating from the top of her head and tumbling around her feet, spreading outwards to wrap around his own. She seemed utterly unaware of this phenomenon and continued to stare at him curiously as if waiting for some reaction. A cold chill spread through his body, and a strange veil seemed to settle over his mind.

Hermione was a beautiful siren before him. Her hair hung in soft ringlets around her shoulders, falling gently across the folds of her travelling cloak. The backdrop of the fading light caused her to be framed in a halo of shimmering essence. Her breath was coming unhitched in his presence. His growing arousal was evident to her when she glanced down at his groin. When her lips parted slightly, tongue flitting across the lower lip, he started to her. He was a fool, but gods in heaven and hell, he wanted her.

Hermione squeaked when Rabastan grabbed her roughly, pulling her off her feet, crushing her to his chest. “Hermione,” he ground out, “what is this spell you have put on me?”

“I haven’t done any such thing!” she protested, but it was lost in the grind of his passion. The serpent in her mind hissed with glee, flexing its slithering incorporeal form amid the strength of the spreading darkness that had begun its physical manifestation.

“Let me take you Hermione,” he rasped out, “just this one last time. I’m going to burst if I don’t take you. Please say yes.”

She was losing herself against him, not understanding this strange seduction but fighting against it nonetheless. “Rabastan, Minerva is going to be here soon with Severus and Teddy. You said it was for the best. You said-“

The mist enveloped the both of them now, swirling and roiling in a ghost-like film as he clutched her desperately. “I damn well know what I said! I am saying now that it’s just this one last time. Please let me remember you this way, before you go back to him. Let me have this one last thing. Please!”

She was dumbstruck that this huge man was begging her, wanted her, and had claimed she was nothing more than a good time. For something that was purely physical, he sure wasn’t acting like he didn’t care about her.

The last vestiges of her will slipped away and she gave one last attempt to dissuade him. “Well, I don’t know, erm-“

The faint sound of voices echoed up the stairs from the Floo.

“Shite! They’re here!”

Before Hermione had a chance to think he had stuffed her under one massive arm like a rolled up rug and darted into the bathroom. She barely had a chance to regain her feet, registering that he had locked and warded both doors on either side of the bathroom. A feral glint lit in the depths of his gaze.

“Hermione.” He wasn’t addressing her directly anymore. There was a sing-song quality, a wild animal about to pounce on its prey.

Instantly wary, her wand was out, a hex on her lips just before he uttered “Expelliarmus!” and it flew from her grasp, hitting the mirror with a resounding ‘Crack!’ A spider-webbed split zigzagged its way to the base of the mirror.

“What are you doing?” she barked out, backing up against the opposite door. What came out wasn’t English, although to Hermione’s ears it didn’t sound any different. When Rabastan responded with the sound of a snake’s hiss all of the hair on her body stood on end. What was even more creepy was that she understood everything he said. The only other time she had heard Parseltongue is when Harry had spoken it.

Rabastan’s pupils slitted into the shape of a serpent. “Give yourssself to me. I need you. Hurry, before they come up here!”

“Rabassstan! Ssstop thisss! Itsss madnesssss! You don’t know what you’re ssssaying!”

“Shut your mouth!” he hissed, stalking toward her, “thissss whole thing issss your fault to begin with. You were just gagging for it, weren’t you? I bet you’ve had some ssssick fantasssiess of me under your wet cunt and that greasssy bastard Sssnnape mounting you from behind, haven’t you?”

“HAVEN’T YOU!?” he roared, trapping her against the door, wand at her throat.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, shutting her eyes under his rough grasp. His hot breath was on her face, panting with the exertion of his arousal. The damp material between her thighs was quickly soaking through and she knew he could smell her feminine secretions.

“What doesss it look like I’m doing? I didn’t want thisss in my life. No woman doesss thissss to me, hasss ever done thisss to me. Rabassstan Lessstrange doessn’t get taken advantage of. The only possssible explanation issss you’ve placed some ssssick ssspell on me. Mother always sssaid be careful what you wished for Hermione, you might just get what you want!” His hand was busy working free his belt, roughly yanking his trousers open to free the huge erection.

“I haven’t done anything!” she whimpered, unable to believe this was happening. What the hell is he talking about? Why won’t he tell me!? Even as he threatened and frightened her the serpent in her mind commanded her limbs to move. To her horror they obeyed and she began divesting herself of her clothing.

The one thing she had control of yet was her voice. “Help! Minerva, I’m in here!” she shouted, grappling for the wand at her throat. Even if her friends heard her, the serpent knew they had no way of understanding the flowing Parseltongue hissing from her mouth.

“Sssilencio!” Rabastan laughed cruelly then, transfiguring the crotch away from her pants and knickers. He leered grotesquely at her naked torso and wild hair. Her headpiece sat askew on top of her head and her breath was coming in sharp gasps.

“They can’t hear you. I’ve warded the doorsss shut and put a sssilencing charm on them. I’ve alsso dissillusioned them ssso if they come into the room to look for you, they won’t immediately realize anything isss wrong. They’ll just assssume you went out for a walk.”

He had lowered her to the cool tile in one swift movement. The frantic movements beneath him excited his loins. An unusual fire burned through him. It was almost as if he were outside of himself, watching a maniac inside of his body taking advantage of this frightened young witch. Why was he doing this again? Oh yes, she had put a spell on him. A maniacal laughter reminiscent of the Dark Lord echoed in the small space they occupied until he realized it was coming from his own throat.

Almost mechanically, with ridiculous ease, he banded her wrists together with an invisible cord, forcefully holding them down over her head. He saw her eyes go blank and jaw go slack as she went limp. An empty look not unlike that of a cast Imperio graced her lovely face.

It’s not supposed to be like this. The thought hung strangely independent of his body, having no effect on his raging libido.

His knees jerked open her legs, easily finding her soft folds and thrusting him into her. Despite her lack of participation, she was blissfully wet. Wet and tight.

She feels so fucking good. Oh God I love her. This feels so right…. NO this is wrong! Help!

She was fighting him again, but it seemed as if she was battling for dominance, not to get him away from her. Her teeth snapped at any part of him she could reach, but he held himself far away from her wild jaws. He let the full bulk of his weight crush down on her much smaller frame, grunting as his hips pumped her fast and hard.

She hexed me. I had to do it to her. She’s making me do this. I have no control over it. Fucking snake magic this is. Holy shite I need her! Oh god she feels so good! I can’t stop!

His eyes bore into her, possessed, frantic, panting, forcing himself to finish as quickly as possible. Rabastan’s primal emotions and bodily actions ran rampant with the charging lust barreling toward a fiery completion. The closer he came to finishing within her the harder his shuttered conscious pushed to regain control.

What is going on? Why can’t I stop? Bloody hell I can’t stop!

The familiar snap of his hips, erratic and bruising pulsed his flooding come inside of her, his mouth forcing his tongue into her own anguished mouth as one strong hand gripped her jaw forcefully to keep her from biting down on him.

Rabastan felt his consciousness ‘snap’ back into himself from the place it had been held. He was exhausted, sick to his stomach. His head throbbed and pelvic bone was sore from the mad coupling he had forced on her. Pulling out of her and lifting himself up, a trail of blood and semen followed suit. It stained the white tile floor like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

I just raped Hermione.

She’ll never love you. The whisper echoed hollowly in his ears. A creepy, slithering sound caught his attention as the familiar wisps of smoke curled outward from his body and disappeared, melting into Hermione’s as if it were part of her to begin with.

He scrambled up in disgust, slamming backwards into the warded door. Her cool, detached eyes were dry, staring at him blankly. She hadn’t even cried; just accepted this as part of her fate. It was twisted and cruel. The act made him feel dirty, horrified.

She hexed me! It wasn’t my fault!

“Hermione!” he rasped, feeling her sweet name on his traitorous lips but without the Parseltongue that had invaded his voicebox moments before.

I’m no better than Lucius; a fucking monster. I couldn’t even control myself. Oh, God. What have I done?

His limbs sprang to life, rearranging his trousers and taking the silencing and binding spells off of her. Hermione made no attempt to move. Only her eyes gave away any emotion, frantic terror chased by an icy countenance that took over in survival mode.

With shaking hands, he knelt down to clean her off with a wandless charm. He could see the bruises on her nether regions already forming, raw from the desperate pounding she had received. The method had been brutal. Hermione had a small frame and he had not held back in the slightest.

A pitiful healing charm took away some of the bruising and stopped the bleeding, but he could tell she was in pain. A reverse transfiguration fixed the privates of her clothing and set her blouse perfectly over her torso, hiding the hurt that had been inflicted.

“Oh Circe and Merlin’s fucking balls!” He bent to pick her up and received a swift knee to the groin. Her stillness had fooled him into not protecting himself. He dropped to his knees in agony as she sprang to her feet and came at him with claws to the face.

“You fucking bastard! How could you do that to me! I’m going to fucking kill you!”

She railed and screamed at him, desperately trying to inflict some type of major harm, but was mostly unsuccessful. Hermione lunged for her wand. “Accio wand!” She turned as he grabbed her wrist, but a hex burst forth before he could stop her. “Petrificus Totalis!”

Rabastan’s face froze in the perfect semblance of an ‘O’, his own wand poised to cast a spell. Hermione quickly unwarded the doors and rushed headlong into Minerva who had had her back to the bathroom door. They tumbled forward, close to falling but managing to catch on an armchair for balance.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” the surprised elder witch exclaimed, turning around to continue chastising the impertinent young girl until she saw the look on her face. “What has happened, child? Where is Rabastan?”

Hermione could only point to the bathroom, edging herself toward the door of the bedroom.

Minerva stepped inside the loo and gasped at the sight of her hexed Deputy, frozen on his knees, wand raised to cast.

She whirled around and ran back into the room. “Hermione!”

It was too late, the girl had already gone.

Severus shuffled in from the adjoining room with Teddy bouncing around his legs. “Pray tell, is Hermione going to make a habit of running from me on sight every time we happen upon one another in such a limited space?”

“Oh, do be quiet, Severus, something terrible has happened.”

His eyes went cold. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to find out.”