December 2nd

The opportunity for Hermione to slip the adulterated dragon pox potion into Rodolphus' food or drink didn't present itself immediately. Following her trip to Diagon Alley, she returned to the Dower House to wait patiently for his return. It was yet another night that he didn't come home until she was already in bed. She heard the footsteps down the corridor stop just outside the door to her bedroom again before they crossed into his room. If she needed further proof that it would only be a matter of time before Rodolphus tried to seduce her again, she had it each time he lingered outside her bedroom door.

When she woke up the next morning and headed downstairs to breakfast, she was surprised to find the chair at the head of the table empty. Rodolphus never arrived for the meal. Nor did he show up for lunch either. It was difficult to suppress her curiosity long enough to keep her from barging into his bedroom to see if he was even there. She couldn't afford to be anywhere near that room until she was certain nothing could actually happen between them.

Patience was a virtue that the previous almost twelve months had given her plenty of opportunity to improve. Her day was spent in the lounge trying to pay attention to the words in several different books she kept picking up and putting down. The weight of the vial of potion in her pocket was impossible to ignore. And just to be certain that she was able to make a quick escape if her plan didn't go as she hoped it would, her beaded bag was once again packed and tucked inside her pocket. She couldn't afford to get comfortable again. It was imperative that she be ready to run at a moment's notice.

Deciding to take a long, hot bath before dinner in an effort to try to calm her nerves down, Hermione took advantage of the well-appointed bathroom connected to her bedroom. The Lestranges were a family that thrived on luxury, required it to function really. Never had she seen either of the brothers or any member of their family dressed in anything but the finest that the best, and consequently most expensive, designers had to offer. Likewise, their homes were as comfortable and luxurious as it was possible to be. Any time she'd asked Rodolphus cheekily where his family made their money, he would change the subject with a grin. She'd seen the contents of his vault when she was just a teenager. It was no wonder they were able to afford the very best.

She didn't expect to find anyone waiting for her in the dining room when it was time to eat dinner. Arriving precisely at eight o'clock, Hermione assumed that she would have to pass another meal in silence by herself. Not that she had a problem with that scenario. Being alone was infinitely better than being in a room with Rodolphus. But, she needed him around to complete her plans. Or at least she needed to find out if she was wasting her time or not. If there was simply no way that she would ever get the answers she desired, she needed to know quickly so she could make her escape from his clutches before it was too late.

"Good evening, Hermione."

The sound of Rodolphus' voice when she entered the dining room startled her out of her thoughts. Seated at the head of the table acting as if he'd been there all along, her host offered her a warm smile. Determined that she would give him no cause for suspicion, she smiled back. Conversation was stilted all throughout the elaborate meal. More than a few times Rodolphus had to hide a yawn behind his linen napkin. She wondered what he'd been doing since the day before that left him so tired. After all, she'd heard him outside her bedroom before he went into his. Surely that meant he'd been able to get some sleep.

"Hello, Rodolphus. I wasn't aware that you were home."

His smile continued to unnerve her. It was amazing that she used to think he was handsome. Perhaps if she didn't know about all of the disgusting spells he'd placed on her mind or all of the other nasty lies he'd told her she might have still been able to see what it was about him that generally made the witches in any given room take notice. The Lestranges were as nasty a family as they were a beautiful one. She even had to begrudgingly admit that his late wife had been beautiful, though she would never be able to think about that horrible bitch without thinking about the day she held Hermione down on the floor in Malfoy Manor to slice her skin with her knives. Nor would she forget her first bout of the Cruciatus Curse. One never forgot their first time after all.

"Yes, I'm afraid I had a very late night last night followed by a horribly early morning."

"Is everything all right? Were you able to find the Nott girl?"

Rodolphus sipped at his wine, failing to hide the smirk behind his glass. She was scared to know what he was thinking even as she was desperate to see what was happening in that mind of his. It was a shame she'd never had the patience nor the skill to master Legilimency. Occlumency was a bit easier for her when she applied herself, but there was something that she just didn't have a knack for when it came to being able to look in someone else's mind. Of course, the wizard likely knew all of the tricks to keep her out of his mind even if she did know how to do it.

"Rabastan mentioned that you had something of an interest in the girl. Might I ask what that is exactly?"

He was very good at judging when people around him were lying. In order to satisfy his curiosity and not pique his suspicions, she knew she needed to be very careful how she answered the question. If she showed too much interest in Rosalind, Rodolphus might take it upon himself to start checking all of the potential hiding places she might have found for the pregnant witch. Maybe he'd even end up on Augustus' doorstep for a look around. She would have to tell him at least some of the truth.

"She reminds me of myself at that age. I was disgusted that her parents made her marry a cruel man old enough to be her great-grandfather. I won't deny that I took pleasure in making her a widow. Theodore was a horrible man who deserved to die."

"You never forgave him for saying that you should be the entertainment?"

"I never told you that. I never told anyone that."

Rodolphus cleared his throat, no longer amused by the tone of their conversation. His features grew hard as Hermione worried what he was going to say next. It was impossible to predict anything when it came to him.

"No, you didn't, but Theodore did. On many occasions. Even had the audacity to ask me what it felt like to fuck a Mudblood. Wanted to know if it felt like fucking a pig or a goat. Horrible man. I'm glad you killed him."

"And what did you tell him when he asked you?"

She didn't believe she was capable of being offended by comparisons to animals ever again. Over the course of twenty years entrenched with the most powerful and most dangerous Death Eaters, she'd heard everything possible. Antonin attempted to shield her from most of the worst insults about her blood status, but he wasn't able to be everywhere at all times. She had to learn not to let the ignorance of cretins upset her. Rodolphus, however, appeared more offended than she did at her question.

"I told him that he should've asked his father that question when he was alive because his mother was closer to a pig than you were."

Hermione snorted. The corner of Rodolphus' mouth curled up into the promise of a grin.

"And I imagine Theodore didn't take the insult to his mother very well?"

"No, he did not. See this scar right under my ear? Would've been worse if there weren't others around to break up the fight. Nasty old man. He should've been drowned at birth."

"That is something that you and I can agree on."

She held up her wine glass in a mock toast to the wizard. Some of the tension that had grown up between them in recent days started to lessen ever so slightly. Rodolphus appeared to be more relaxed as the meal continued. Their conversation wasn't of any consequence, but it was enough to give the impression that they were slowly getting back to where they used to be. She needed him to keep feeling that way. Only then would he be comfortable enough to start telling her secrets.

"I should probably get to bed a little early tonight."

"Oh, I was hoping we could continue our conversation in front of the fireplace with a bottle of wine."

Her first thought as the words came rushing out of her mouth was that she was laying it all on too thick. He wasn't an idiot. If she tried too hard, he would notice. But, to her great relief, Rodolphus rose to his feet and announced he would pick out the perfect bottle. For being such a perceptive man, he was also one that enjoyed the prospect of an evening alone with a woman and a bottle of wine.

While she waited in the lounge for Rodolphus to return with the wine he desired, Hermione took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. She touched her pocket to reassure herself that the vial of dragon pox potion was still in there. If she wasn't able to figure out a way to slip that into the wizard's glass without him knowing, their evening would get even more awkward. She took a seat in the middle of the sofa to wait. A wave of her wand stoked the fire.

"I'm sorry that took me so long. My damn house-elves 'reorganized' my wine collection. Couldn't find a bloody thing."

Hermione jumped up to her feet to take the bottle out of his hands.

"Let me. Sit. You've had a long day."

He was all too eager to allow her to open the wine. His exhaustion was evident. Part of her expected that he would be too tired to even try anything so the potion wouldn't even be necessary. But, she knew him to be a determined man. She carried the bottle over to a small table where he kept wine glasses. Though never very far from the wizard, she could tell that once he relaxed on the sofa, his eyes were closed. It was a real mark of trust that he would let her out of his sights while she poured him a drink. Of course, he was also an exceedingly arrogant man who didn't believe anyone was smarter than he was. Likely he wouldn't believe that she would try anything. She was careful not to add so much potion to his glass that he would be able to taste it. Only a little was needed to work. And just to be sure he would drink it, she added some to her glass as well. The effects on witches weren't nearly as severe. She might have to worry about her tongue turning red for a day or two, nothing worse.

"Thank you, Hermione."

When she was seated next to him on the sofa, he clinked his wine glass with hers before taking a deep drink. Though one who ordinarily liked to show off his knowledge of wine tasting and its intricacies, in that moment he just wanted to drink the wine. Hermione sipped at hers, watching his expression in the corner of her eye. A grimace appeared on his face. Rodolphus sniffed at his glass and took another drink.

"That's vile. The wizard who sold this to me said that it had hints of citrus. That's horrible."

She worried at first that he was going to get angry, but after he took a third drink and started to laugh, she felt reassured.

"What do you think, Hermione?"

"It's awful."

They both laughed. With a cheeky remark that he would never take advice about wine from a man his brother suggested, Rodolphus finished the rest of his glass. His face contorted into an expression that only made Hermione laugh harder. Briefly, she was reminded of the days many years earlier when they used to spend a lot of time laughing together. It almost made her sad. Rodolphus took her glass out of her hand and set it down on a side table next to his.

"I'm rather disappointed. I'd been looking forward to trying that wine. And with such pleasant company? It should've been more enjoyable than that."

"We could try another one?"

The gentle press of his lips against hers was his answer. Though temporarily startled by the movement, she knew it was bound to happen. In order to ensure that he actually took the potion, she had to maneuver a situation that could get intimate quite quickly. Only the hope that the potion would do as it was meant to kept her from pushing the wizard away and running. She needed him to feel like she wanted to be there, that she wasn't disgusted by his touch. How many times in the past did she have to put on a performance with another wizard when she would've rather been anywhere else? More times than she wanted to remember.

Rodolphus wasn't in a rush to escalate their actions. Not like the night she helped him to his bed when he was drunk. He was more interested in taking his time, in savoring the experience. Once she used to enjoy his touches, used to desire him more than any other wizard, including her own husband. It was impossible for her to not be frightened when they were in such close contact. Being brave didn't mean that one was never afraid. No, being brave meant one did what was necessary even when they were afraid. She would've been a fool not to remember how easily Rodolphus could hurt her if he so desired.

His hands were confident and wandering, but never painful or insistent. He was actually much more considerate of her comfort than he'd been in a long time. There were times that he would push aside the possessive, controlling persona when they were alone to gently make love to her body. Rarely, though. And she always felt like he was imagining that she was someone else. She could've sworn once that he whispered the name of his late wife into her skin.

When he slipped to his knees on the floor in front of the sofa, Hermione didn't know what to think. This was a different man than he'd been the night he was drunk. Carefully pushing the long skirt of her witch's robes up over her legs, he stopped every few inches to tenderly press his lips against the exposed skin. Certainly there had been other instances in the past when his face ended up between her thighs, but rarely had he been so calm, so gentle. Rodolphus' fingers slid under her knickers, tugging them slowly down her legs. Most encounters with the fearsome wizard resulted in ripped knickers that couldn't always be repaired. She was unsure what to make of the change.

With the garment removed entirely from her body, his hands slid under her bare thighs, tenderly pulling them apart. It was nothing like the fierce, demanding way he'd done the night he'd thrown her to the floor naked and demanded she leave. Every touch of his fingers, every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips was gentle, tender. So unlike how he usually touched her, she was able to close her eyes and imagine that there was someone else pulling the deep moans out of her body. She never expected the night to end up where it did. Never did she think that he would make every cell in her body tremble.

While her body recovered from the unexpected paroxysms of pleasure, Rodolphus carefully removed the rest of her clothes. Naked and exposed once more, she didn't miss the feral heat in his eyes. He reached for her discarded glass of wine, chugged the rest of it down, and almost gagged.

"I forgot how bloody awful that tasted."

She couldn't help but laugh at his expression. Further encouraged that he had even more of the nasty potion in his body, she was able to relax. If it worked as it should, she wouldn't have to endure anything more. Not that she really had to endure much if she was honest. Confident that her plan was going as it should, she even allowed herself to kiss him back with the passion she once felt for the wizard.

"I want you in my bed every night from now on. That's where you should've always been to begin with. It's where you belong."

Rodolphus stood to remove his own clothes. She watched every movement he made, curious to know if it was all going to work as it should. The moment his trousers fell to the floor and his pants followed, there was a sudden change to his face. His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed. Hermione bit her lip, knowing that that was never a time to make a wizard feel like she was laughing at him. He turned his naked body away so she couldn't see what was happening. Every awkward second that passed he grew more embarrassed. It was clear that the potion did exactly what it was supposed to do.

Worried that he might take his anger and frustration out on her, Hermione remained as quiet and still as possible. Furious at the change in circumstances, Rodolphus gathered up all of his discarded clothes, covered the front of his exposed body, and ran from the room. She didn't see him for the rest of the night.