Day Five

One bright spot about the following Tuesday was the fact that Nicholas always had the day off. Some weeks it frustrated Hermione to have to run the entire shop by herself for a whole day, but knowing she wouldn't have to see the manager for another full day helped ease the frustration. Besides, if the shop was as slow as it was the Sunday before, she wouldn't need any help at all.

Could she survive many more days of no customers and zero sales? There wasn't a great deal of profit to be made in the shop to begin with. She had no idea how expensive maintaining such a vast and diverse inventory would be. Some books had been sitting on a dusty shelf for years without any interest whatsoever. Even if no one bought a book, she still had to pay for it to sit there unwanted. The Gringotts vault she was begrudgingly allowed to have following the war when the goblins decided she could probably be trusted not to rob their establishment again had never been very full. Most of its contents were used to pay for the shop. She thought she might be able to make it a few months with no profit before she had to seriously consider closing the doors.

"You are far away in your thoughts this morning. Everything all right?"

Rabastan's arms snaked around Hermione's waist where she stood at the kitchen sink staring out a window overlooking a Diagon Alley that hadn't yet woken up. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard him leave his bedroom or cross the usually creaky floors. It felt so nice to be held in his arms, even in such a relatively innocent way. She released a soft sigh as she allowed herself to lean back against his chest. Though they hadn't done anything beyond kiss in the morning and hold hands for most of the day and evening they explored Muggle London, there was a subtle change in their comfort level around the other. It was gradual, likely hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn't them, but they were growing closer.

"I was wishing I didn't have to go downstairs to the shop today. Yesterday was lovely. Can we do that again?"

He chuckled and lightly tightened his arms.

"If we do it every day, it wouldn't be special, now would it? What's wrong with the shop?"

"Nothing. I just…". She sighed. How could she explain her dissatisfaction with how her life had turned out with a man who literally spent most of his in prison? It hardly seemed like she had any real problems. "I just don't want to be there today."

"What about that rat-faced bloke? Couldn't he mind the store for the day on his own?"

She snorted at the description of Nicholas. Evidently her husband was no more of a fan of her manager than he was of him.

"Nicholas doesn't work on Tuesdays. Sometimes in the summer, right before the school term starts, I have one of the witches that works part-time help me, but it's usually just me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there some way that I can help you? I've found myself temporarily without employment."

As much as it would be nice to have him there with her while she worked, she was concerned that he would notice the obvious lack of customers if he was down in the store all day. It was important to Hermione that he not worry about her or think that he was somehow negatively affecting her business.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. It should be fairly boring down there. You'd be miserable."

"I doubt any time I spent with you would be miserable."

"You're rather charming, aren't you?"

"I certainly try to be. Always have."

Hermione turned around in his arms to be able to look at him. He didn't take his hands off of her for even a second.

"You were a terror when you were a child, weren't you?"

Caught off-guard by her statement, Rabastan paused for a couple of seconds before bursting out into loud laughter. It was contagious. She found herself smiling right along with him.

"Most definitely. Absolutely. I was a little brat who always had to have my way. Drove my mum crazy, but I was her favorite."

"Did you ever grow out of that? The need to always have your way?"

"Not really. I'm still pretty selfish. When I see something I want, I have to have it."

He pulled his right hand off of her back. Between his thumb and his pointer finger he gently pinched her chin. She smiled at his cheeky grin, not missing for a moment how dark his eyes had gotten in just seconds. Releasing her chin, he returned his arm around her back to pull her tight against his chest. His lips sought hers out with ease. They'd already started getting used to finding each other without much direction. Eager to open her mouth to his to welcome his skilled tongue, she couldn't help wondering what else he could do with that tongue. Sure, he might claim to be selfish and she didn't doubt that was the truth, but she got the impression that when it suited him, he could also be quite generous. She looked forward to finding out if she was correct or not. Mentally she checked another day off the calendar. Hopefully, the rest of the month would hurry past.

"Now that I've wished you a good morning properly, wife, you and I will go downstairs and you will put me to work. It's what I want."

"And you always get what you want."

"I wish it was that simple."

His wink left nothing to the imagination. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to argue with the man and it seemed like a good idea to retreat to a public place, she stepped away from him to head for the staircase. She didn't even have to look behind her to know he was following her every step of the way.

"You really are choosing the wrong day to be down in the shop with me. It's bound to be boring."

"I don't care. I want to know everything about the shop. If you decide to keep me around after the thirty days are up, I want to be able to help you like a good husband should."

"Like a proper family business?"

"Perhaps eventually if we're not careful with our charms, but I'm in no rush."

She almost choked when he made the casual reference to possibly having children in the future. That subject had yet to come up. Of course it wasn't one that was unreasonable, one that should have terrified her. It was just unexpected. Daring to look over her shoulder at the wizard still a couple of stairs above her, she didn't miss his amused grin. Evidently, he had been thinking about children already.

"So, take me through a regular day. I want to know it all."

Rabastan took pity on her when he saw her wide, frightened eyes. There were so many serious conversations they needed to have that it all seemed so overwhelming. Where would they even begin? At the bottom of the stairs, he took her hand to give it a light squeeze before dropping it. Even though they were alone in the entire building, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I said I was in no rush. That's something we can talk about a long time in the future."

It helped to take some of the pressure off. Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at the clock over the front counter. All of the time she spent upstairs staring at the window made her late to open the shop. She was never late. It was a point of pride with her. Even if there were no customers that day like the previous Sunday, she would open up on time. Or as close as she could manage.

Glad to have a break from the sometimes overwhelming and often confusing physical presence of her husband for a few moments to get herself under control, she crossed the store to the front door. A quick turn of the sign proclaimed the shop 'open'. When she unlocked and opened the door, she never expected to have visitors standing just outside. Somehow she got the impression they weren't there to buy a new book.

"Neville! Hannah, good morning. What a pleasant surprise."

Neither one of the Longbottoms wanted to be there. That was obvious from the expressions on their faces. Hermione stepped back to allow the couple to enter into the shop. Perhaps it was best to get them away from the curious eyes of onlookers out on the Alley. Wizarding Britain was just like a small town. Sometimes there wasn't much else to do than gossip about other people's lives. She had no doubt that soon whispers would move up and down the Alley and beyond that the Longbottoms called on her. It wasn't difficult to deduce why they were really there.

"Would you like to come upstairs to my kitchen? I could make us some tea."

Neville held up his hand to stop her. Few times in all of the eighteen years that they had been friends had she seen him upset enough that he couldn't speak. It was unnerving, unlike him. Even when he was a shy, awkward boy getting himself caught up in embarrassing situations in Hogwarts, he could talk to her. There were times she was the only one he could talk to.

"We won't be staying long. I just came to see for myself if it was true."

Every syllable he uttered begged her to tell him it wasn't true, that the articles in the newspapers were all lies. Never, not for a single second, did she want to hurt one of her oldest friends with her decision. It had all happened so quickly. She didn't even know Rabastan's name until it was too late. But, she knew that didn't matter. Not really. He was a Death Eater. She knew that, accepted that. Behind every Death Eater there was a line of blood that led to someone's broken family. Would it have been any different if the people he hurt with his actions had been complete strangers?

"If you're asking whether or not I married Rabastan Lestrange, Neville, then the answer is yes."

"I see."

Neville's eyes widened slightly. Feeling her husband standing at her back, she understood why. Without saying another word, her old friend turned on his heel and headed straight back out the door he only just entered. His wife followed quickly behind offering Hermione a look that was half-apology, half-what-the-fuck-did-you-expect. Her shoulders slumped at the sound of the bell over the door announcing Hannah's exit. Rabastan gently squeezed her shoulders.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry for what? I think your friend showed great restraint. If the roles were reversed, he'd be dead on the floor. It's no less than what I deserve for what I did to his parents."

"You recognized him?"

"Of course I did. I've had his face memorized from the moment he stepped forward at Hogwarts to kill the Dark Lord's damned bloody snake. It's haunted me. It still haunts me."

His hands slid off her shoulders as he released a heavy sigh. There was no more putting off the difficult conversations they didn't want to have. At least not one. Not expecting anyone else to drop by the shop that day, she turned the lock on the front door and flipped the sign to 'Closed'. As she walked past Rabastan on the way to the stairs, she took his hand.

"We should talk. I'll make some tea."

Neither of them spoke again until they were both seated at the kitchen table with fresh cups of tea steaming in front of them. Maybe they would've continued to sit there in uncomfortable silence if Hermione had been a less curious person. Knowing it would be better to get it over with, she blurted out the most obvious question.

"What did you do the night Neville's parents were attacked?"

Rabastan took a sip of tea to delay answering the question just a moment longer. Likely he was just trying to figure out his response carefully. If he said the wrong thing, maybe he feared she would run away. Maybe she should run away. It was easy to pretend like he had been locked up in Azkaban for a petty crime that hurt no one when she didn't have to see the face of one of his victims. Neville might not have been physically harmed by her husband's actions nearly twenty-eight years earlier, but there was no denying he'd been harmed.

"I deserved every moment of the life sentence they gave me. Maybe I didn't realize it at the time, but every time I think about that night since, I know it. I don't actually deserve this second chance. I should be rotting away in Azkaban."

A small part of her held on to a hope that even if he had been convicted of participating in the torture that led to the forever altered mental states of Alice and Frank Longbottom, he wasn't really responsible. It was always possible he was an innocent bystander who got caught up in the madness. His older brother and sister-in-law were the reason he was there. Hearing him say he deserved his prison sentence stripped the last of her naive hope that he was innocent away.

"You have to understand that after the Potters died…"

"You mean when they were murdered."

He sighed. It felt wrong not pointing out what really happened to Harry's parents, what nearly happened to him.

"Yes, when the Potters were murdered. It was complete chaos. No one really knew what was happening. How could a baby defeat the Dark Lord? It didn't make any sense. If he was defeated, where was he? There should've been a body. No one understood how he could just disappear.

"I was a coward. I'll just come right out and admit it. As terrified as I was about what could be coming next, a part of me, most of me, was glad he was dead. I was relieved."

"Relieved? Did you not want to be a Death Eater?"

"In the beginning of course I did. It sounded so exciting. Roddy told me how wonderful it was and how the Dark Lord was going to change the world for the better. I was young and impressionable and everything seemed like a grand adventure I didn't want to miss out on. I was stupid. Just out of Hogwarts with only a handful of NEWTs. My father wasn't pleased. Said I spent too much time on the Quidditch pitch when I should've been in the library. He had plans for me to become a Healer, but I didn't qualify for that. Knowing he was ashamed of me, I jumped at the chance to make him proud of me."

Rabastan had to pause before he could continue. Some pains, even decades after childhood and adolescence ended, never really went away. Likely he would grown into an old man wishing he could've done something more to please his father when he had the chance. Hermione knew all about regrets where parents were concerned. Some were choking.

"My father had very antiquated ideas about blood purity. I heard it all through my childhood. He thought the Dark Lord was the answer to all of our problems. I was probably the easiest recruit. Didn't ask any questions. Just followed my big brother blindly like I always did."

"Is that how you ended up there the night of… when what happened to Neville's parents happened?"

"Mostly, not entirely. My curious nature took over. Because I was afraid we would only find out that it wasn't true that the Dark Lord was dead, I went willingly. I had to know if he was really gone and the nightmare over. It seems so silly now. Why would two aurors know the truth? It would've made much more sense for us to find the Minister for Magic to demand answers or fuck, Barty's dad was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He would've known and it wouldn't have taken much persuasion to get that obnoxious toerag to attack his father. Never met a father and son who hated each other more than those two."

He spun his empty teacup around on the table to give himself something to focus on. It stung just a little that he wasn't able to meet Hermione's eyes as he spoke, but she understood. There was evident shame in his voice as he explained his past. She was glad of that. If he spoke of his past and was proud of it, he wouldn't be the man she believed he was.

"I think the Longbottoms were chosen because of a past grudge Bellatrix had against Frank. I don't know the details. Didn't want to know them. All I wanted was confirmation that the Dark Lord was dead so I could run back to my daddy's manor with my tail between my legs. If I'd known what Bellatrix had planned, I wouldn't have gone. She was an evil, sadistic bitch who liked to torture her enemies like a cat plays with its food."

"I remember."

Hermione wasn't sure why she chose that moment to pull her sleeve up to show her husband the hateful word Bellatrix carved into her arm. His eyes widened at the nasty scar that had never faded thanks to her cursed blades. By instinct he grabbed her arm across the table to prove to himself it was real. When his fingertips brushed against the raised scar tissue, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson and he pulled his hand back with a heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped and he couldn't bear to look at her. She wasn't ashamed of her scar. No, it was a reminder to her that she was strong, not easily broken. But to make Rabastan more comfortable in the tense moment, she covered it back up.

"We knew immediately that they didn't have any additional details to give. They were just as confused about what happened as everyone else. I promised you I wouldn't lie to you and I meant it. I've cast Unforgivables. Many of them. I even did so that night. I didn't want to but I was so afraid that Bellatrix would turn on me or she'd put Roddy under the Imperius Curse to make him do it for her. It's no excuse. I shouldn't have been there at all, but I was. I could've been braver and stopped Bellatrix. Roddy and Barty wouldn't have stopped me. They were terrified of her too. Roddy likely even more so. I don't know what happened behind their closed doors but I know it wasn't good."

Hearing that about Bellatrix's husband wasn't a surprise. She was unhinged, mad with power and rage, and deeply in love with her master. Her husband would've been a hindrance even if there was a time she once loved him.

"I only cast it a couple of times in the beginning, but I still did it. My worst crime was I just stood by and watched while Bellatrix tortured those poor people into madness. She… she tied up Frank and made him watch her break his wife. It didn't take as long to break him when she was done. He was already broken just watching helplessly as his wife suffered. I deserved to go to prison. Fuck, I deserved the Kiss. I was there and I didn't stop it because I was more worried about my own sorry arse."

Rabastan lifted his head up to look at Hermione. His hazel eyes were red and full of unshed tears.

"I'm nothing but a worthless coward."

Before she could say a single word in response to what he confessed, Rabastan was out of his chair and out the exterior flat door. She understood when someone needed to be alone.

The rest of the day passed slowly. After returning to reopen the shop, Hermione still didn't have any customers. If there was an active campaign to boycott her shop, she wouldn't be surprised. She only hoped it would be temporary. The thought of being forced to close up her shop forever made her feel like a failure.

The sun had been down for hours and Hermione was already in bed when she heard the exterior door open to announce her husband's return.