November 24th

Imagining simply being back in Rodolphus' presence terrified Hermione beyond description. Would she ever be able to calm down after the horrible incident in the garden? She wasn't so sure. Rodolphus offered absolutely no explanation for why he felt the need to murder his sister-in-law. Though Hermione knew that he'd never cared much for Gemma, thinking her to be obnoxious and shrill, he'd never been openly antagonistic to her either. She was merely an annoyance that he could swat away like a fly.

Recalling the events from the previous day, she was still in complete shock. Moments after he'd spit on the corpse, the wizard banished Gemma's remains to a hiding place in the hedge maze. There were more pressing matters to attend to than worrying about disposing of the woman's body. Thanks to the season of the year they were in, no one was likely to stumble upon it any time soon. Perhaps one of the house-elves, but as the Head of the family, they would approach Rodolphus first with the tragic news. He'd be able to order them to shut up.

Despite his frequent infidelities and his claims that he couldn't stand being in the presence of his wife, Rabastan was actually quite fond of Gemma. He would be the last person to admit to it, of course, but it was the truth. Their marriage had been arranged shortly after the end of the war. It was imperative that the Lestrange family live on. Initially Rabastan had been excited and pleased by his marriage because his young wife was beautiful and eager to please. Rodolphus was glad that his brother married into a good Slytherin family. Though not members of the Sacred Twenty Eight, the Farleys were still respectable. The honeymoon didn't last long. Gemma was hardly pregnant with Julia when the fact became all too clear that they had nothing in common.

Rodolphus didn't want his brother to know that his wife was dead. Not afraid to admit that he was the one responsible for murdering her, he just didn't want to deal with the inevitable headache that followed. Murder within the family was a wretched business. He also knew that Rabastan would be devastated to find out she was murdered. He would take her death hard. It was even possible that he might get violent.

Before Rodolphus could stomp away and leave Hermione alone with the shock of what she'd just witnessed, she'd summoned up enough courage to grab his arm. He had been irritated and eager to leave. She knew that she would have to speak quickly.

"What did Gemma mean about you wanting to bring your wife back from the dead, Roddy?"

Some of his anger melted off of his face. He was steadily gaining control of his emotions again. When he spoke, he was serious, yet kind. Hermione hardly recognized the man as being the same one from just a few minutes earlier.

"It's no secret that I loved my wife very much. I've missed her every single day even after twenty years of her being gone. If there was a way to bring Bellatrix back, I would've found it already. Gemma had no idea what she was talking about."

He offered no further explanation for Gemma's claims or his actions before rushing off. For the rest of that day and the next she stayed inside the Dower House waiting for his return and attempting to understand the whole horrible event.

With Rodolphus absent for well over a day, the longest stretch of time he'd left her alone since she arrived, Hermione had the chance to think back over recent conversations she'd had with him that baffled or confused her without interruption. Several times Rodolphus made a comment that she didn't understand. Like all of the times he claimed that they used to lay in bed and talk about what the world would be like when the Dark Lord was dead. She knew that she'd never spoken such scandalous words. It was as bad as blasphemy in her eyes during the time she'd deluded herself into being a loyal Death Eater. And if she'd heard Rodolphus dare to suggest that their master even could die, she would be much more likely to report him for treasonous speech than to go along with it. There had been very little grey area in her life during those years.

Did Rodolphus think she was Bellatrix at times? Or did he just forget sometimes and misremember conversations? Based on what Hermione knew about Bellatrix, she had a hard time believing that she would speak so openly about a world without Lord Voldemort. She had been in a sick, demented sort of love with their mutual master. But, she had to remind herself that the public persona one had didn't always match who they were in private. She knew that firsthand. Even in the most difficult and unhappy years of her marriage, both she and Antonin felt safe enough to come home and remove the mask they had to wear. Perhaps Bellatrix was more like her than she realized.

Rodolphus still had not returned home by Saturday night. After having another meal alone, Hermione sat in the lounge staring at the words in an open book, but not actually making any sense of them. So far her plan to learn about Rodolphus' intentions left her with even more questions than answers. Was she just wasting her time? Would she be better off leaving? It bothered her to imagine just giving up, but she wasn't sure what to do next. Rodolphus hardly seemed like he was just going to tell her whatever she wanted to know. If she wasn't careful, too many questions might get her corpse banished to the hedge maze right next to Gemma's.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the opening of the front door. Expecting to see Rodolphus finally returning home, she was nervous to see Rabastan enter instead. Had he found his wife's body and come to demand answers? Hermione would seem like the most likely suspect considering her recent activities and her years-long hatred of the dead woman. She gripped her wand in her hand, ready to curse the new widower in the face, if necessary.

"Good evening, Hermione. Is my brother home?"

Far from being in a dangerous rage intent on inflicting vengeance, Rabastan was calm, possibly even a little drunk. She calmed slightly. It didn't appear that he knew about his wife's fate just yet. Like so many unhealthy marriages amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters, it was likely that the Lestranges could go days without seeing the other and not be terribly bothered. She knew that was often the case in her own fucked up marriage.

"Sorry, Rabastan. He's not."

His smile proved he wasn't the least bit disappointed to find Hermione on her own. As he crossed the room to take a seat next to her on the sofa, Hermione didn't lessen her grip on her wand. They hadn't been alone since the day the Dark Lord died and they both collapsed on the floor of their office in indescribable pain. She was nervous to be caught alone with him again and even a little scared. He could be very unpredictable. Despite years of having an inappropriate friendship with the man, she knew she couldn't afford to get too complacent around him. Part of her wanted to run from his presence, but she didn't want to give him any power over her. Even if it was just the power to annoy.

"We used to be good friends, did we not, pet?"

The tips of his fingers on one hand ran down the length of her arm. She wanted to hit him or worse for taking such liberties. Did she give him permission to touch her again? No, and she never would again. Just remembering that awful day in their office when she tried to manipulate him with sex like she used to in the past made her sick. Those days in her past were dead and gone.

"Tell me why you're really here. And don't tell me it's because you've missed him so much. You and I both know that's not the case."

"Then why don't you tell me why you think I'm really here?"

His smile might have been effective at charming the knickers off of countless other witches, but it no longer had the same effect on her. It just reminded her of what a dangerous animal he really was. Rabastan gently tapped the side of her head with a single finger.

"To find out what he did in there and why."

She hated that he was correct. Part of what made them both successful in their chosen careers as interrogators for the Ministry of the Magic was the fact that they were highly perceptive. It was an inherent trait that was hard to learn. Either one was effective or they weren't. Rabastan knew how to tell if someone was lying better than anyone Hermione had ever known. Even she wasn't as good as he was in that area. It was frequently a source of contention that crept up between them. He usually found it amusing that she would get frustrated with how easy certain aspects of their job came to him. She had her own natural talents, of course, but any time she felt less than another she longed to best them. Her streak of competitiveness had gotten her into a lot of trouble more than once. Likely it would continue.

"My brother and I have few secrets. I could tell you some if you want."

His offer made her forget some of her fear. Sometimes he was the one that was painfully transparent. Scoffing at his offer, she stared him in the eye.

"And what would I have to do in return?"

"You could start off by getting on your knees in front of me again. I have so missed the feel of my cock being inside your mouth."

He outlined her bottom lip with his thumb. She knocked his hand away from her mouth. Leaning in closer so that their faces were only centimeters apart, Hermione scoffed again and whispered.

"Not going to happen."

"Pity. You're ever so much better than these young witches I keep finding. Experience counts for a great deal and you certainly possess a lot of that."

She refused to let him bait her into a violent or even just slightly testy response. He was hardly the first person to imply that she was a whore and he certainly wouldn't be the last to outright say it to her face. Leaning back to protect her face from any sort of quick move on his part, she just laughed, refusing to let him see how annoyed she really felt.

"But I suppose encouraging practice will only make them better."

Rabastan stood to his feet, signaling that he was about to end their conversation. It took most of her self-control to keep from making it obvious that she was relieved. With one final knowing look at the witch, the wizard smirked.

"Rosalind Nott has certainly improved, but she needs a bit more practice. I think I will call on her tonight in that big, lonely manor of hers."

He knew exactly which of her buttons to push. Somehow he was aware of how much she inexplicably cared for the girl. Maybe she'd not hidden it well when they questioned her that day in their office or something she said when he announced that he'd gotten her pregnant tipped him off. As Hermione started to get angry, he smiled, loving the effect he had.

"Unless you give me a reason to stay, I fear I will have to seek out her lovely young mouth instead."

Hermione was glad that Rosalind was hidden in Augustus' protection. If she knew that the poor girl was in danger of being seduced by the disgusting man, she might've felt an obligation to keep him out of the girl's bed. The thought of touching Rabastan again for any reason filled her with dread. Instead, content with the knowledge that he wouldn't find her when he called on the Nott Manor, she smiled.

"Have a good evening, Rabastan."

He was out of the Dower House seconds later.