Eleven – Diagon Alley – 3:48pm

Hermione covered her eyes as the late afternoon sun beat down on her. She should have brought her sunglasses but the morning had been so hectic between the angry letters she was now getting from Ginny along with Greyback's disgusting notes that she had just wanted to get out of that house.

After spending the morning at the office, she had left early to spend the rest of the afternoon in the rare sunny weather. This would probably be the last time they'd see it for a while. Britain wasn't known for its agreeable weather, especially not in December.

She had done a bit of grocery shopping and was now just taking a leisurely stroll before she decided to apparate back to Grimmauld Place. She hadn't told Harry a time to expect her so it really didn't matter when she chose to return home.

Hermione just wanted time to breath, to relax for once. She had felt like a sprung coil since her fifth year of Hogwarts and didn't seem any closer to relieving herself of that. Not when the danger was still present. And not when the universe seemed determined to cause her more and more stress on a daily basis.

Starting with the Weasley females.

After Harry's lie, she had been continuously badgered by both Molly and Ginny almost daily. Mostly the elder just wanted details as to how and why and when she and Harry had decided to start a relationship. And the youngest… Well, she was just upset that Hermione had gone back on her word.

Which was absolute shite. Ginny had asked Hermione three years ago if she was interested in Harry romantically. And her answer at the time had been no. She had harbored a small crush on Ron, she had been agonizing over wizarding tests, and she had been dealing with the increasing threat of war. Not exactly a good time to analyze her feelings or relationship with Harry. Who had also had enough on his plate as well.

She still didn't necessarily have romantic feelings for Harry. He was her best friend, the closest thing to family that she had now, and maybe they were even closer than lovers, but she didn't love him in 'that way.' She was only pretending for his sake. He'll settle down with a lovely witch eventually and then she'll be free to pursue whatever or whoever.

Hermione just wasn't all that interested in dating after her tentative relationships with Ron, Viktor for the second time, and even Blaise Zabini all fizzled out. She refocused her attention on work and bettering herself instead of searching for male attention. Besides, she still had Harry.

Smiling to herself, she turned a corner and ran headfirst into a man's chest. She knew it had to be a male because of the spicy cologne surrounding them. Stepping back, she noticed that hands had reached out to steady her and were still holding onto her as she swayed slightly.

"You know, Miss Granger… We really should stop meeting like this. One of us might just end up falling onto our arse," a joking voice said from in front of her. She groaned audibly as she looked up into the pleased eyes of Rabastan Lestrange.

"Don't you have someone else to stalk?" She muttered unhappily as she righted the bag around her shoulder.

He released one of her arms as he tapped his chin with his fingers thoughtfully. "Nope," he enunciated with a pop of his lips.

She rolled her eyes before stepping out of his grasp, "I should call the Aurors right now."

Lestrange grinned devilishly as he leaned forward, "But you won't. Just like you could have called them the first time we met, or the second, or even the third. I'm honestly surprised you didn't the third time. Antonin told me what happened. You had him unconscious in your house and you didn't even call for help! No wonder he got out so easily."

"Are you finished?" Hermione snapped out, not wanting to be reminded of her mistake from two weeks ago. She knew she should have called the Ministry, but she had wanted answers so badly…

"Mmm, that depends," he said with a tilt of his head. "Why'd you heal him?"

"Because I'm a good person?" She replied sarcastically, but he only furrowed his brows before giving her a mildly serious expression.

"No really… Why'd you do it?"

Hermione sobered slightly as she thought back to it. She had originally just wanted him to answer her questions but… she had to admit that there was just something about Dolohov that intrigued her. If he was dead or in Azkaban then, well…

"I don't know…" She deflected halfheartedly. Looking back at Lestrange, she could tell that he didn't believe her, but he seemed appeased with her answer nonetheless.

"So, are you busy?" He asked suddenly.

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at his boyish smile, "Um… not really… Why?" She really didn't know what this man's angle was. If Dolohov was an enigma, then Lestrange was a walking contradiction.

"Would you like to come back to my place for some tea?" She would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it weren't for the honest look in his eyes. He wasn't joking. He wasn't preying on her. He genuinely wanted her to join him for afternoon tea.

Just what had she gotten herself into?

Despite the oddness, she accepted, thinking to herself that if she new where the two stayed then it would make capturing them that much easier. And after a quick trip of Side-Along apparition, she found herself outside of a Muggle apartment complex.

"This is where you two stay?" She questioned in disbelief. No way would two purebloods stay in such a hovel. And especially not two Death Eaters in a highly populated Muggle area.

"Mhmm," he hummed. "It's pretty cheap, quiet, and no one would ever think to find us here. Antonin really outdid himself with location."

They wandered inside and Hermione couldn't help but notice how homey the small space seemed. While small, it actually seemed to work for two occupants. The main floor of the area included a kitchen and combined dining table, a living room with a two seater couch and a sturdy armchair, and then three doors that must lead to bedrooms and a bathroom.

"It's not bad," she mused while looking at a bookshelf consisting of tomes devoted to charm and spellwork. They must be Dolohov's; he was the 'expert' after all.

"Glad you like it," he piqued as he went into the kitchen to start making the tea. Hermione observed him as he filled the kettle with water and then placed it on the stove. Did Lestrange just enjoy doing things the Muggle way?

"Wouldn't it be quicker to use magic?" She blurted out.

He looked over at her and shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, "Probably." But he didn't answer her question, which only left her with more. Come to think of it… Had she ever actually seen Lestrange do any magic? Had she even seen him with a wand since they had started seeing each other again?

"Where's your wand?" She asked slowly, watching his reaction as he leaned against the cheap countertop. He glanced over at her with a sad smile plastered on his face.

"Haven't got one anymore," was his short reply.

"Why not?" She questioned, genuinely curious as to why a wizard didn't have a wand. She walked closely to him and let herself rest against the wall separating one of the bedrooms from the open floor plan.

"Lost it sometime between the final battle and running from the werewolves," he vaguely explained.

"Mr. Lestrange-" She started, only to be caught off guard by his disarmingly bright smile being directed her way.

"Rabastan, love. You can call me by my name."

She eyed him warily for a moment before nodding slightly, "Rabastan then… Why were you running from werewolves?"

"The packs got all hot and bothered after the Dark Lord lost. They wanted what they had been promised but most of us were just itching to get out of there. Since Antonin and I had established ourselves as Inner Circle members, they came after us first."

"And you lost your wand during that time?"

"Must have," he quipped. "Seeing as I haven't got it now."

"So… you left Britain originally, didn't you?" She asked hesitantly, wandering when her line of questioning would either hit a brick wall or cause the overtly friendly man to lose his temper.

"Aye, me and Antonin went to Russia for a few months to hide out," he told her as the kettle began to whistle. He quickly moved to take it off the stove and went to work actually making the tea and serving it. He set the two cups on the table and Hermione sat in front of one of them while Rabastan sat in the seat adjacent to her.

She blew on the cup lightly as she watched him do the same. "Why did you come back then? No one had any idea you two were even still alive until I saw you both in Diagon Alley," she probably should have stopped the questions, drank the tea in front of her and then left as quickly as she could, but this was the first time she was getting any sort of answer. And she quite enjoyed knowing things.

Lestrange seemed to somber up at the question as he starred fixatedly into his dark liquid. He only raised his eyes after the silence became deafening to Hermione. "My brother," he replied weakly.

"Your brother?" She echoed, thinking back onto whatever she knew about Rodolphus Lestrange. Not much really. Even less than she knew about Dolohov. Just that he had been married to Bellatrix, joined Voldemort when he was young, and had a brother.

"But," he deflected naturally, perking back up almost instantly, "Enough about that. Did you want to stay for dinner?"

She blinked rapidly at the sudden change and abrupt offer, "Um… well…"

"I mean, neither Antonin or I can cook, but you're welcome to stay for whatever we manage to scrounge up for dinner," he added in what she assumed was his encouraging tone. He wasn't exactly reassuring her in any case.

"Neither of you can cook?" She questioned angrily. "How have you been living on your own for so long?"

Lestrange smiled sheepishly as he rang his hands, "Um, well, we've been eating a lot of that Muggle cereal and mikowhale dinners. It's not the best but it's the only thing either of us has any clue how to do. I got our downstairs neighbor to show me how to use the thing."

"Microwave dinners?" She clarified and he nodded earnestly. She ran her hands over her face as she thought through these new developments. Hermione didn't exactly hate Rabastan. He wasn't horrible or disgusting and albeit occasionally annoying and insufferable, wasn't so different from certain boys during her schooling days.

And she didn't feel like she was in danger around him. If anything, she felt a certain calmness in her chest that she hadn't felt in months. A lightness that she was loathe to get rid of in that moment. So she agreed, yet again.

They didn't have much food in the cabinets but luckily Hermione had been grocery shopping earlier before running into Rabastan. She was in the process of adding the finishing touches to the bangers and mash when the man next to her huddled a little closer than he had previously been. The two of them had been discussing Hogwarts and the difference between the four Houses and interpersonal relations when she felt his body press against hers, his mouth close to the shell of her ear.

"Don't panic, but Antonin's home," she heard his voice say. She could automatically feel herself tensing up, even with Rabastan's reassuring form behind her.

"He won't do anything, I swear. He might not even be mad," Rabastan said quickly, trying to dispense some of the thoughts that he probably knew would be swimming around in her mind.

She refocused her attention onto the food she was making and told herself that if Dolohov had a problem with her being there, he could take it up with his bloody roommate who invited her.

That thought was better in theory than in practice.

When Hermione felt Rabastan shift behind her, she turned to look at what had caught his attention. The unbelievably tall, dark, and worthlessly handsome man standing in the doorway was quite the sight indeed.

Especially since he had supporting an impressive glower that was directed at the two of them standing in his kitchen.