A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! I know that the last one was a bit of a cliffhanger, but I am so excited to share with you what comes next. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter thirty-two and be on the lookout for chapter thirty-three soon!

June 1969

Rodolphus collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, half-drunk bottle of firewhiskey next to his body, wishing that he could get the persistent sadness to leave his mind. No amount of alcohol could numb the spiraling thoughts in his mind, though. He wasn't sure that the situation could even be salvaged, even if he did everything he could. It was all compounded by knowing that this was all caused by his own stupid decisions.

Hermione.

Salazar, he missed her. He loved her, more than he would have anticipated. She was so much more than just a witch. Her lips haunted him, and her body filled his dreams. He thought about her smile everyday, and his missed making her laugh. Thinking about her was almost enough to spark a bit of hope in his heart. But then he remembered the absolutely crushed look in her eyes, the way she tried to look tough but the way that her lip quivered in front of his father.

And then his hope was extinguished when he remembered that it was all his fault.

He took another swig of the firewhiskey, wishing that he could just melt away into the bed. He'd been out all day looking for Hermione, but there was no sign of her. He'd even paid a visit to the Weasleys knowing, which had caused some serious confusion for Cedrella Weasley. She looked at him with a disapproving glare and told him that Hermione had gone home, and didn't know anything else.

Unfortunately, Hermione had never opened up to tell him about where home was. Maybe she was right to never fully open up.

He coughed, feeling the burn in his throat.

His door was pushed open and his younger brother spilled into the room, looking delighted until he saw the state of his brother. Then a well practiced sneer came over his face. "Are you still wallowing over that mudblood?" Rabastan drawled disdainfully. "I thought that after father set you straight you would come to realize that she was nothing more than a silly mistake."

His father had given Rodolphus no leeway once he saw that it was true his son was dating a muggleborn. Gone was the flat in Diagon Alley, and he'd been made to move back into his ancestral home. He kept his job, but Edmond had made it a habit of stopping in frequently to make sure that Rodolphus really was where he said he was. He was even made to stop seeing Auggie and Max, although he had been promised a reprieve to attend Max's wedding later that summer. His every move was under surveillance by the house elves and it was driving him wild.

"Fuck off, Rab," he growled, resisting the desire to send a jinx hurtling his brother's way.

"You should be thanking me for telling father," Rabastan said, crossing the room to look at his brother. "It was pathetic the way that you carried on with her. It wasn't as if you could have had a future with her - she's practically not even the same species as us."

Rodolphus sat up, looking at his brother disgusted, wondering how he could say something so horrid about another witch or wizard, even if they were muggleborn. After knowing Hermione, he knew that muggleborns were no different than purebloods, even if they didn't know the proper wizarding traditions. If anything, they were a breath of fresh air.

He almost didn't even recognize his younger brother, who just two years ago adored him. Rodolphus had imagined taking Rabastan under his wing, to make him a little bit less like his father and a little bit more decent, but it seemed that the allure of their father had been too strong to escape. He'd imagined giving him advice about asking his first girl to Hogsmeade, or which shaving spells worked best, but instead Rabastan had gotten pulled into the wrong crowd, making friends with Crouch and Travers. The kind of boys that would say that muggleborns were a different species from purebloods.

"I was happy," Rodolphus said with a snarl. "But happiness doesn't mean anything in this family. It isn't useful. So don't get too comfortable yourself." He wondered who his father would try to betroth Rabastan too, but he knew it couldn't be far off either...that is, if Rodolphus hadn't totally ruined their prospects. The thought made him smile.

"You can be happy with another witch," Rabastan insisted. "Don't confuse fucking with happiness."

"Where did you get an idea like that from?" Rodolphus asked, sitting up from his spot on the bed, letting his anger radiate out. Even though Rabastan was peacocking around now that Rodolphus was under his father's watchful eyes, that didn't mean that Rodolphus wasn't a wizard grown, and much more powerful than his little brother. He wouldn't hesitate to jinx him. The thought that he could be happy with another witch was...abhorrent, especially when that other witch was meant to be Bellatrix Black.

"What?" Rabastan asked, his eyes widening a bit when he saw the menacing way that his brother was staring at him, taking an involuntary step backwards. "It's what father always says." His voice cracked, showing his age.

"Yeah, well father doesn't know what he's talking about," Rodolphus insisted. His happiness with Hermione had little to do with the sex, and more to do with the way that she made him feel. Not that he could expect Rabastan to understand that at fourteen. "And you would do well to shut up about it, too, or I will shut it for you."

False bravado leaving him, Rabastan just nodded his head, perhaps realizing now that he had pushed his brother too far. He didn't have any more insults to hurl or rude things to say about Hermione. Instead, he turned tail and left Rodolphus alone with his dark thoughts.

Taking another pull from the firewhiskey bottle, Rodolphus set it down on his bedside table, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes to keep the tears at bay. He wondered if he would ever be happy again without at least apologizing to Hermione, but he knew deep down he wouldn't. This would be a wound that would linger and fester. Would Hermione think that this was pathetic of him, he wondered?

Standing up, he knew that he couldn't stop looking for her. Yes, he'd gone to the Weasleys home, but he recently learned that Arthur Weasley had bought a home of his own. Remembering how close Hermione had been with Weasley while they were at Hogwarts, Rodolphus knew that it had to be his next stop.

Apparating to Ottery St. Catchpole, Rodolphus made the long walk from the village to the outskirts where Weasley lived. Stumbling a bit over his feet, Rodolphus was embarrassed to realize that he'd drank a bit more than he expected, but he'd come too far to turn back now.

The cottage was quaint, but nice, the kind of place that he'd expect a wizard like Weasley to live. He had no warding up, which was not too smart in Rodolphus's opinion, but he'd keep quiet about it, if Weasley would just tell him where Hermione was. Pounding on the door, Rodolphus listened to the noises inside while he waited for Weasley to answer. "Open up, Weasley, I know that you're in there," he shouted.

It took a few more seconds - what felt like an eternity to Rodolphus - but eventually the red head opened the door, looking surprised to see him standing there. "What do you want, Lestrange? You're drunk," he said, a fierce look on his face, chest puffed out, ever the brave Gryffindor.

"Isn't it obvious?" he questioned. "I'm looking for Hermione."

"Well, I can't help you there," Arthur said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Come on, Weasley, I wasn't born yesterday," he said, trying to look past the other wizard to see inside the cottage, looking for any sign of Hermione. "I know that you always had a hard on for my girlfriend. You'd only be too willing to let her stay with you."

Arthur moved side to side, not giving Rodolphus the opportunity to see much past the doorway, no matter how hard he tried. "I don't like what you are insinuating, Lestrange," he said with a frown. "Now, please leave."

"I know that Hermione is in there. Please just let me talk to her," Rodolphus begged. He was so desperate to see her, to explain, to apologize for standing there while his father said all those horrible things, for not standing up for them like he'd promised her he would, that he would drop to his knees in front of Weasley, he didn't care.

"If you can't find Hermione, maybe there is a reason for that," Arthur suggested gently. "It probably means that she doesn't want to see you. And the way that I hear it, she has good reason to not want to see you ever again."

Hope bloomed anew in Rodolphus's chest. "So, you've talked to her, then?" he asked, glad to know that someone would admit to seeing Hermione since she ran out of his flat. "Please, Weasley, I know that we've never been friends, but I need to speak with her."

"I haven't spoken to her, no, but I've heard about what happened between the two of you," Arthur explained. "And, even if we were friends, I wouldn't tell you where she was. I warned her - I warned her about the kind of wizard you were, and wouldn't you know if you've proved me right. I only wish that Hermione didn't have to get hurt in the process."

Arthur made to shut the door, but Rodolphus darted out his hand to catch it, unwilling to stop the conversation. "Look, I know that I've fucked up," he said, his eyes dropping to the floor. He couldn't let Weasley seem him crying, that would be too pathetic. "But, all I am looking for is a chance to make it up to her."

Weasley looked at him with pity in his eyes, but made no comment to try and alleviate Rodolphus's discomfort.

"Please, just let me come in and talk to her. I need to apologize to her," he begged, feeling like this was his only chance. "Or, if she's really not here, you could at least get a message to her...tell her how much I love her and...tell her that I would do anything for her." He wondered why it was so easy to tell Weasley - his Quidditch enemy for over five years - about how he felt about Hermione, but he couldn't tell his own father.

The other man looked as if he was wavering, before a firm look came on his face. He didn't say anything at all.

Knowing that he wasn't going to get any further that night, Rodolphus turned away, ready to leave with his tail between his legs, back to his family home, and the wrath of his father when he realized that Rodolphus had slipped away once again. He was beginning to think that there really was no salvaging this situation. Disappointed that he had been wrong and she wasn't really there, he knew that he was back to square one and he had no idea where to look for Hermione next.

He was halfway across the grassy field in front of Weasley's cottage, when he heard Arthur shout at him, his voice ringing in the cool night air. "Hey, Lestrange, wait!" he called out, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind him. Rodolphus watched as he jogged the distance between them. "When you said that you would do anything for Hermione...did you really mean anything?"

Rodolphus felt his shoulders sag in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Nodding his head, he didn't even have to think about what Weasley was asking him. "Anything," he swore, knowing that it was the truth. "Anything."