November 22nd

Living in Rodolphus' house after their uncomfortable encounter in his bedroom remained awkward. Hermione grew tired of avoiding the wizard because of his hurt pride and her anxiety. How was she supposed to get to the bottom of his nefarious plans for her if she continued to hide in her room? Her discussion with Draco the day before helped her to begin sorting out her priorities. For the rest of that day and for most of the night, she dissected every word that was spoken in their conversation to try to uncover all possible hidden meanings.

She really shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Antonin had yet another secret ally she knew nothing about. Hadn't she learned by then that her husband was a man possessed of surprising diplomatic talents? Somehow he'd been able to amass a number of supporters from all sides in secret. It was impressive, if a bit annoying. Part of her kept waiting for the bombshell to drop that Antonin had been secretly allied with Rodolphus all that time too, but mostly she recognized that as being ridiculous. Rodolphus manipulated her mind for years and was even responsible for one of her miscarriages after that horrible incident with the stairs ten years earlier. And those were just the incidents they were aware of! No, there was absolutely no way she would ever believe that Antonin would enter in to a partnership willingly with Rodolphus.

Making the decision to try to press forward despite their setback a few nights earlier, Hermione made certain she was ready to enter the dining room for breakfast precisely at eight o'clock. Rodolphus' eyes widened slightly in surprise when she took the seat next to his, but he almost immediately returned his features to the same chilly indifference he was known for. Evidently it would be up to her to make the first move because he wasn't budging. Men could be entirely too stubborn when their pride was the least bit injured.

"I owe you an apology, Rodolphus."

It made her sick to her stomach to tell that lie. She did not owe him anything or feel the least bit sorry about what happened that night. If faced with the exact same circumstances and asked the exact same question, she would repeat that she belonged to no one. After twenty years of having her life dictated and controlled by Lord Voldemort, she refused to allow another wizard to lay claim to her life in any way. She certainly was the master of her own body.

"The other night I shouldn't have said what I did. It was never my intention to insult you."

He slowly began to thaw as she spoke the disingenuous words. How she managed to force them off her tongue was a mystery. She felt dirty just saying them. Offering her the first warm smile she'd seen since that night, he reached across the table to cover her hand with his.

"Perhaps I have been a bit possessive of you in the past, my dear. I promise that I will try to be better in the future."

She didn't call him out for a liar even though she knew he was. There was simply no way that a man like him would be able to change his ways so drastically just because a witch asked him to. No, he would do it again. The next time, because she knew there would be a next time, he had her naked, he would ask the same question. It was a power move for him, likely the only way he could feel in control of the situation. Either she would have to swallow her disgust to lie to him that her body belonged to him or she would have to come up with a different plan. She was hoping to find one where she didn't have to touch the man again.

Breakfast moved at a snail's pace. Partly because she didn't have much of an appetite, but mostly because he kept staring at her without saying anything. She felt like she was being examined as some sort of oddity. When he stood up to announce that he had to leave to go to London for a few hours, Hermione almost sighed out loud in relief. Rodolphus leaned over to kiss her on the cheek on his way out.

No longer faced with the prospect of another minute alone with the wizard, her appetite miraculously returned. No matter what her personal feelings were about house-elves, she couldn't deny that the Lestrange family possessed some amazing cooks. She could get used to their delicious food if she had to. Startled by the dining room door opening unexpectedly a few minutes after Rodolphus left, she almost dropped her fork in the process of guiding it towards her mouth.

"Where is my husband?"

Gemma Lestrange stood in the doorway glaring across the room at Hermione like she was nothing more than a disgusting rat or a pesky fly she wanted to smash with a newspaper. Hermione wasn't in the mood for dealing with the odious woman. She'd been able to avoid her since she first arrived at the Dower House. Naïvely, she hoped she would be able to continue. The two women would never see eye to eye about anything. For reasons that the younger witch could not even begin to fathom, Mrs. Lestrange actually cared for her horrible husband. Unlike so many of the witches forced into marrying a Death Eater after the war, Gemma had done so gladly.

"Rabastan hasn't been home in two days. Where is he?"

"And you assumed that I know or care where he is?"

The witch scoffed at Hermione's flippant response. There wasn't enough coffee in the world to wake Hermione up to the point that she could suffer the woman. She hoped that she could encourage her to leave with just the strength of her words. Cursing the wife of her host's brother might be considered impolite. Rabastan might even feel an obligation to exact justice for the insult against his wife. Truthfully, the whole ordeal sounded tiresome.

"The three of you used to spend a lot of time here together in this house doing god only knows what. It's disgusting. Have you no shame?"

Hermione was annoyed. Any time a person she had no respect for tried to shame her for the actions she'd taken and the decisions she'd made, she wanted to eradicate them from existence. Judgmental harpies married to her fellow Death Eaters were all too common critics of her life choices. Some of them, like Gemma, felt they stood on a morally superior pedestal to someone like her who would willingly roll about in the muck with their men. Hermione found those women to be sad and pathetic. Maybe if they'd been a little more open and willing to expand their sexual horizons their husbands wouldn't have gone looking elsewhere. Besides, Gemma was no better than she was. How many years had she been meeting Antonin in hotel rooms on Tuesday afternoons after her long lunch with her mother and sister?

"Not especially, no. How about you, Gemma? Did you ever feel shame when you were fucking my husband?"

The woman looked ready to claw Hermione's eyes out. No doubt the reminder of her own indiscretions reminded her that she was just as fallible a human being as the witch she loathed. Gemma made a dramatic push of the door until it slammed into the wall. The sound of the doorknob smashing into the plaster was hard to miss. Instead of closing behind her, the ornate slab of wood remained rooted in the wall. Mrs. Lestrange stepped into the dining room, fury splashed across her features.

"How dare you…"

"Remind you that you're not some prim and proper little obedient housewife stuck in your husband's manor while he's out having his own affairs? Grow up, Gemma. I'd have more respect for you if you just admitted that you liked fucking Antonin. At least then I'd know you were capable of telling the truth."

"You little whore."

Hermione didn't have the patience to deal with the woman any longer. Catfights had never been something she enjoyed. They were petty and nasty. She had even less respect for those who started them. Weren't they all too old to act like fourth years fighting over the same boy?

"Leave, Gemma. Just get out."

"I have more right to be here than you ever will. This house will be mine one day."

"Not if I kill you first."

Though she said it to be shocking and to hopefully terrify the woman enough to leave, she also meant it. Gemma had no idea how close to the edge of her mortality she was dancing. One wrong word and Rabastan be damned, she would take his horrible wife out. Killing the woman wouldn't even bother Hermione's battered conscience. Maybe some of the murders she'd committed still gave her pause. Hers never would. The world would be a brighter place with the snarky bitch dead. Gemma gasped.

"You're a monster."

"Then why are you taunting me so? Leave me alone. Your husband isn't here. I haven't the first clue whose bed he's wandered into but I promise you that it's not mine."

Somehow she was able to regain some of her lost courage. No longer seeming to be afraid of Hermione in the slightest, Gemma glared hard enough that it looked painful. Perhaps the woman hadn't been properly educated that such facial expressions would only bring on wrinkles faster. Rabastan would definitely no longer be interested in staying close to his wife's bed if she started to look like an old hag.

"He doesn't really want you. You realize that, don't you?"

"I don't care if Rabastan wants me or not."

"I'm not talking about Rabastan. I mean Rodolphus. He doesn't really want you. He could make due with any other body if he wanted, but he's invested so much time with you that he thinks you'll be perfect."

Hermione didn't understand anything that the woman was saying. It all sounded like complete nonsense.

"What are you going on about?"

The sound of Gemma's laughter made Hermione's wand hand itch. Maybe if she just injured the horrible woman her husband wouldn't get too upset.

"You mean I know something you don't? How interesting."

She was the sort of person to enjoy lording it over those who didn't know as much as she did. Completely pathetic, of course. How was it possible that a grown woman could be that spiteful? Hermione was tempted to kill her by that point just to get her to stop talking. A pain began building in her head thanks to the tension she felt being in the woman's presence. Unfortunately, Gemma seemed in no hurry to leave. Either she was clueless to how close Hermione was to snapping or she just didn't care.

"Rodolphus will always be in love with Bellatrix. That will never change."

"Gemma? Leave."

The sound of Rodolphus' furious voice terrified his sister-in-law. Both women had been so focused on the other that they hadn't even noticed his stealthy approach to his dining room. Likely he'd gotten to London and remembered something he'd forgotten and come back just in time to hear the end of their conversation. He'd always been the sort to listen at keyholes if given the opportunity. Intelligent enough to know that she did have something to fear from an irate Rodolphus, Gemma rushed out of the dining room and then the Dower House completely without saying another word.

"Never listen to a word that bitch says, Hermione. She lies."

All she could do was nod her head in agreement. Convinced that she would do as he ordered, Rodolphus returned to his study. He was back out of the front door just a few minutes later. Despite his assertion that nothing Gemma said could be trusted, Hermione was still curious. Before they were interrupted, was Gemma about to tell her what she knew about Rodolphus' plans for her? Was that why he'd been so eager to kick her out and then warn Hermione not to listen?