March 1st

No one would ever accuse Hermione of being a dog lover. For the most part and with very few exceptions, she found the creatures to be entirely too hairy and too smelly. Her son begged and pleaded for a puppy when he was younger. Antonin would've given in to his demands if not for his wife refusing to allow any disgusting creature in their home. She knew that their son was too young to properly care for the animal. It would end up being her responsibility. To encourage her son to cease his cries, she promised him that when he was older and more able to care for a dog himself, they would revisit the request. It pacified him. She had been hoping for years that he would forget that he ever wanted one to begin with.

She didn't know a great deal about dogs, but she knew that very few of them were as filthy and disgusting as Saint Bernards. Sure, they might look adorable and fluffy, but they were notorious for the drool that dripped from their oversized jowls and the mountains of hair they left behind. If she had to pick a dog, she would have steered clear of the very one that was sitting on its haunches staring at her.

"It's been a long time."

The dog let out a soft bark in response. Without warning it began walking further into the darkness away from the house. When it was clear she wasn't following, he turned around to stare at her over his shoulder. Realizing it was non-verbally requesting her presence on his post-midnight stroll, Hermione followed.

They walked for several minutes in the almost pitch black darkness. She wasn't worried about the creature steering her into the path of danger. Many times over the years he'd saved her life. Hell, she'd saved his too. There were few souls in existence that she felt she could trust without fear. The Saint Bernard leading the way was one of them.

He stopped abruptly in a darkened corner far from any potential witnesses who might have been peering out their bedroom windows. Hermione almost tripped over his furry form. A stepped-on paw was his reward.

"Fuck, Hermione. Watch where you're stepping."

Rodolphus Lestrange, transformed back into his human form, shook his left hand with a grimace on his handsome face. Excited to see the secret Animagus for the first time in over four years, she didn't care that he was in pain or annoyed with her. She simply wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. It took him a few moments to settle down enough to return the affection. When he pushed her away from his chest, she thought up a dozen different questions to ask him that just came dripping off her tongue in a torrent.

"One at a time, Hermione."

He had always been one of her favorites. Not the most social of creatures, human or canine, he often kept to himself. Antonin explained to her on several different occasions that the wizard that had gone in to Azkaban had never come back out. There were some flashes of the man that Rodolphus used to be from time to time, but for the most part, he was a complete stranger. And even though he would never admit it, her husband missed the man he had once been.

Still, she found there to remain a great deal about the man worthy of admiring. When she first met the infamous widower of Crazy Batshite Bellatrix Lestrange, she'd been nervous. She'd assumed that he was just like his late wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. A simple conversation with the man set her mind abuzz with questions she bombarded her then-teacher with. Antonin patiently answered every single one with an amused grin.

Even before he was arrested and tried for the disgusting, horrific attack on Frank and Alice Longbottom, Rodolphus was already regretting making the decision to become a Death Eater. Unlike his younger brother who was a loyal fanatic, he'd only initially joined because he saw the opportunity to get up the skirt of a pretty witch. By the time he knew exactly what he'd gotten himself into, it was too late to get out. He did what was necessary to survive, telling very few people about his hidden talent.

She had admired him from the start. Standoffish, almost to the point of being rude, he was one of the few Death Eaters who treated her like an equal from Day One. Not once did he ever look down on her or act like she was just a traitor waiting to happen. He also never saw her as a potential sex partner which was both encouraging and highly insulting at the same time. She never had to worry about him taking liberties like some of the other bottom dwellers that flooded the ranks, but after a while, when they had gone on several missions together, she really wished he would.

"Are you with the Resistance?"

It was a logical question. Why else would he be in the midst of a rebel stronghold waiting in the dark for a fellow defector to come outside? Draco was his nephew after all. Though he would never advertise it publicly, Rodolphus had a soft spot for his sister-in-law. Always had. It was an open secret that he frequented Malfoy Manor over the years. Their public shame never deterred him from seeking them out. She wondered if he was the reason why Draco was involved with the Resistance. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"Not exactly. I'm not not part of the Resistance though."

Another one of his talents, besides turning into a large drooling dog, was speaking in cryptic phrases that didn't always make sense. She could remember many instances of having a conversation with him that she only half-understood. Getting a solid answer from him about anything was likely to be difficult, if not downright impossible. Rodolphus kept a lot close to his chest. If he wanted someone to know something, they knew it. If he didn't, they didn't. Knowing that that was as far as he was going to go towards answering that particular question, she persisted with a few more.

A tiny part of her was tempted to ask him if he was the mysterious Death Eater who demanded her protection in exchange for his support, but the more she thought about it, the less that idea made any sense. They were polite and friendly with each other while he was in the service of the Dark Lord. That didn't mean that he was willing to keep her protected. They weren't exactly friends and to her disappointment, they'd never been lovers. What would be in it for him to demand her survival? Besides, he was no use as a Death Eater since his defection. Whomever was insistent that she be spared had to still be within the ranks of Lord Voldemort's most loyal followers. Deciding that was an issue to solve for another day, Hermione shook her head and continued with her next question.

"Where have you been since you left? Here?"

"I've been a lot of places. It's not difficult for me to find a place to hide out for a while as a dog. For the first couple of years, I lived with a few different families as it suited me. Muggles, of course. Some suspicious wizards and witches are too quick to cast a Animagus revealing spell on stray dogs that wander up to their house."

"Learned that one the hard way?"

He nodded.

"It's a good thing I'm good with memory charms too or I might have been caught."

"And after the first couple of years? What then? Why are you here now?"

"That's a long, complicated story, I'm afraid."

"I have nowhere to go and all the time in the world."

Rodolphus cut her off by leaning down to brush his lips against her forehead. It was a patronizing movement that served its purpose. She knew he would tell her nothing more that night. If she had more questions, she would have to wait for the answers. Maybe that was his plan all along. Use her prodigious curiosity against her to keep her in place. She hated that he knew her well enough to know that that tactic would work.

"You should go back inside before you're missed."

There was no reason to linger and the walk had done her some good. Her eyelids felt heavy. As she turned to head back to the comfort of a warm bed, he called after her one final time.

"You should stay a while, Hermione. I think you'll be glad you did."