Day Three

Rabastan was already up reading the newspaper at the kitchen table when she emerged from the bathroom the next morning. When he woke up he'd been so quiet moving around the flat, she hadn't even known he was awake. Selfishly, she hoped he was always going to be like that. After so much time alone, she rather enjoyed the quiet. Never one to particularly enjoy mornings, Hermione needed to slowly wake up and prepare herself for the day ahead.

His smile when he saw her approach the kitchen made her stomach flutter in that way she was coming to love. As soon as she reached the table, he set the newspaper down and stood up. Their third kiss was even more perfect than the previous two, if that was even possible. He seemed to only grow more confident with each passing day. She was very curious to know what kissing him would be like in another week or two.

They returned to what had become their customary seats at the table. While she poured herself a cup of tea he'd thoughtfully brewed already, he picked up the discarded newspaper. One conversation they'd had the night before was about the stack of newspapers that kept growing. While he understood her reasoning for not wanting to devour the news every single day, he was of the opinion that it was better to know immediately what was being said to prevent any unpleasant surprises.

"Anything interesting in there today?"

"More dramatic pearl-clutching about the evil Minister Shacklebolt's devious scheme to release murderers and fiends, I'm afraid. There's talk that Shacklebolt is a Dark Lord sympathizer."

Hermione snorted out a surprised laugh that made her husband smile.

"Kingsley a sympathizer? Definitely not."

"No, I wouldn't think so either. I remember him from Hogwarts. Quidditch mad and fond of chasing Hufflepuff skirts, but clearly no fan of the Dark Lord or any of us who would follow him."

It was the first time he openly discussed Lord Voldemort in any way. Hermione had so many questions for him about how he got involved and what he did for his master, but she didn't know how to ask without being offensive. Even though it was her right as his wife to know about the uglier parts of his past, she wanted him to wait until he was more comfortable to open up. Perhaps realizing he was on the verge of opening up a discussion that they weren't ready for, Rabastan cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"What are Sundays like in the shop? Are they busy?"

"Not usually. Right before Hogwarts starts in the fall it can be, but it's usually slow. We're closed Mondays."

Rabastan smiled.

"A day I get you all to myself. How marvelous."

Nervous around him again, Hermione made an excuse to go downstairs to the shop a little early. There was always something that could be found to do. It seemed so childish to run away from Rabastan when she felt so shy and awkward. Surely she would grow out of that soon. It wasn't like she was some innocent virgin with no experience with men. She had plenty of experience with men. Well, perhaps not as much as some women she knew, but she was no easily scandalized prude. There was a side to her that most never got to see. Eventually, she hoped that she would be able to prove that to the man she married.

Just as she told Rabastan, Sundays were usually slow in the shop. They weren't, however, normally empty. All day long there were almost no customers who came inside the shop. She didn't understand it. The door didn't even open until after noon when a couple of elderly witches she knew by sight, if not by name, came in together, took one look at the elegant diamond ring on her finger, shared a knowing look, and then left without making a single purchase. It was all very awkward.

By two that afternoon there seemed no reason to keep Nicholas there to help. With no customers, Hermione was more than capable of running the shop herself. Because she knew that he relied on his usual number of hours each week to pay his bills, she hated to send him home too early. When there were no cartons to empty, shelves to restock, or floor left to sweep, she couldn't think of anything else for him to do.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas, but I think you should probably go home now. I hate to send you home early."

He scoffed. Immediately she felt her shoulders tense. She'd gotten used to staying out of confrontations. Just from the disingenuous smile he had on his face she knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"I think you should get used to not having customers. That's probably not going to change any time soon. Good night, Mrs. Lestrange."

Moments later she was alone. There had been such hatred in the way he said the name that she supposed was technically now hers she was surprised. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Hating herself for allowing that horrible man she didn't even like affect her so deeply, she tried not to cry. When the tears rolled down her cheeks, she was glad she was alone with apparently no hope for any customers barging in on her solitude. She sat at the desk in her office with her head in her hands to silently cry every last teardrop out.

In order to keep up that everything was as normal as possible, Hermione waited down in the shop for the rest of the normal operating hours to finish. No one came inside the shop during that time. Completely unusual, she knew it had to do with the articles that had been posted about her marriage. She supposed she could understand the people who might consider shopping in her establishment would be the same as financially supporting a known Death Eater. She didn't agree, but she understood.

When it was time to close up, she was glad that she cried everything out already. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Rabastan what Nicholas said or how there hadn't been any customers. She didn't want him to feel guilty. If he was the changed man she knew he was, he might even offer to do something drastic to make it all right again. That's not what she wanted. She enjoyed corresponding with him over the years. Having him sit at the table across from her or next to her on the sofa was infinitely better than the letters. She didn't want to give that up, not when she was just getting to know him. It would all pass soon. Everyone would get bored and move on.

Somehow she was able to keep up a positive front all evening long. If Rabastan suspected something was off, he didn't say anything.