As much as she might have liked to forget the day ever happened, all she could think of was how terrified she was when she was tied up and helpless in Fenrir's bedroom. Rabastan didn't even know who she was. It didn't even matter to him that what he was intending to do to her was wrong. Too many years of his life had been spent with the ability to behave in however atrocious manner he wished with little to no consequences. It gave him, and others like him, a false sense of value and self-worth. Hermione should know. She'd been just like him once upon a time. Brushing his hand off of her breast, she shot him a look that dared him to try again. Rabastan chuckled, but didn't touch her again.