Week One – Part One
Tears were a weakness. How many times had Hermione chastised herself for allowing her emotions to drip out of her eyes and down her cheeks? No one ever got anywhere by crying. Except maybe pushed out the door or lower in someone else's esteem. She could never understand why when she attempted to be so logical and analytical about every single facet of her life, she would still fall victim to those blubbering fits of melancholy.
It had been a rough day certainly, but what excuse could she possibly have for wetting the fur of the reclusive neighbor's poor dog? She was ashamed of herself for being unable to remain perfectly stoic at all times. Breaking down did nothing except further the notion that women were emotional beings unable to think clearly in times of stress or great upheaval. She prided herself on being stronger than the average overly sensitive witch.
Remembering that she was Hermione Fucking Granger, a witch held to impossibly high standards she had set for herself, she released her hold on the sympathetic canine. With a pat on its head, she sat up straight.
"Sorry. It's been a really shit day for me."
Instead of making her feel like even more of a fool for speaking to a creature without the ability to respond, the large Saint Bernard whimpered. He nudged her with his nose. Hermione scratched him one last time behind the ears and stood up to her somewhat shaky feet.
"You should run along home now. I'll be okay."
He whined one last time. Hermione smiled one of the first smiles she had attempted since walking in on her husband with his latest slag. She granted the dog one last vigorous scratch behind his fluffy ears before stepping inside the cottage for the first time. Part of her felt a little guilty shutting the door on the creature's sad face.
The cottage was small, yet cozy. Hermione felt certain that she could be content with her accommodations. Whether or not she was actually planning on remaining there for the entire six weeks was still up in the air. She wasn't sure how she was expected to fill the hours of that many days without some kind of project to complete. How could Kingsley expect her to remain idle for so long? She had never been happy to lie around with no purpose.
There was one main room that was comprised of the living area, the tiny kitchen and a little dining table. A large rock fireplace dominated most of the space. A plush couch and a deep armchair just waiting to be sat on looked inviting. Hermione walked through the open doorway to the only bedroom in the entire house. The massive bed took up most of the bedroom. It was an item of furniture that just begged for long naps and late nights. Preferably not alone. She set the three bags charmed to hold everything she owned down on the floor. A luxurious bathroom was connected to the bedroom. Only allowing herself a quick peek into the last room of the house she had not yet seen, Hermione was pleased to see an extra-large, deep bathtub next to a large window overlooking the back garden. A small fireplace next to the tub would provide additional warmth when she decided to take advantage. She could only imagine how relaxing it would be to sink into. No doubt she would take advantage of that more than once during her stay.
Even though it was not even late afternoon yet, Hermione was exhausted. She was used to not getting much sleep each night and crying took a great deal out of her. Removing her shoes and nothing else but her cloak, she slipped underneath the heavy blankets. Just as she snuggled under the covers, enjoying how deep and soft the bed was, Hermione began to giggle quietly. She tried not to imagine the stories the bed could tell about the Minister. Kingsley's private life was likely more adventurous than she cared to know about. More than once she had accidentally walked in on a particularly juicy story he was sharing with some of the men of the Order and wished she hadn't.
Falling asleep was easy once she allowed her mind to rest. Hermione did not open her eyes or even move position until the sun was long gone from the sky. She opened her eyes slowly to allow her vision to adjust to the dimness. One of the features of the cottage that must have been attractive to many of its visitors was the distinct lack of a clock. Time must have no meaning for Sada's guests.
She pulled herself out of the bed with the tiniest bit of reluctance. Lounging in a comfortable bed with no plans or deadlines looming ahead was a feeling she could not remember, but certainly one she could enjoy for a short time. Only a short time. Hermione decided to take a long, hot shower. Once underneath the soothing spray her mind began to wander to places it shouldn't.
Every cell in her body was humiliated by her behavior at the Ministry. How would she ever be able to go back there and look people in the eye again? Yes, she was a wronged wife and was having one of the worst days of her life. Yes, cursing the Edgecombe bitch felt pretty bloody fantastic. But she was still embarrassed. She had a reputation to uphold. Hermione Granger-Weasley was known throughout the country for her no-nonsense approach to every single thing she did in her life. It was easier for those in the Ministry to forget her 'accident of birth' when she proved herself more capable than almost all.
Hermione lingered underneath the fall of water for much longer than she normally would. Ron always had an issue with her taking long showers. Maybe it was a remnant from his childhood growing up in a house full of nine people. Every time she dared to take longer than just a few minutes he would bang on the shower door demanding that she hurry up. She never understood what his issue with her 'wasting the hot water' that was charmed to never run out was exactly. Of course they had thousands of little rows over the years that made no sense.
She wrapped her body in a large, fluffy towel and crossed to the bedroom. Digging inside the bag containing all of her clothes would take too long. A summoning spell brought up the first set of pajamas. Pleased with the warm blue flannel, Hermione dropped the towel and dressed. Once the last button was fastened and her bare feet were slipped into a pair of also-summoned slippers, her stomach began to growl loudly. It had been a long time since she last ate. Maybe the night before? Lunch the previous day? Honestly she skipped more meals than she consumed. It was an unhealthy habit that she desperately needed to break.
There was no edible food within the four walls of the cottage. Ordinarily she would have just ignored her need to eat, but the incessant growling would not let up. She headed back to the bedroom to change into actual clothes. It appeared that she would have to apparate somewhere for takeaway. Just as her foot crossed the threshold into the bedroom, she was startled by a loud bark at the front door.
If she had not spent a portion of the afternoon crying on the dog's neck, she would not have even considered opening the front door. The moment she had the door opened wide, Hermione could not contain a laugh at the sight she was greeted with. Her neighbor's large dog was seated on the top of the steps with a covered basket dangling from his mouth. He set the basket down between his paws and turned his head to look at something towards Rod's cottage. Hermione could have sworn that the sharp bark was a sound of exasperation. Closer inspection revealed a growing Saint Bernard puppy attempting to run in a straight line towards them. The bottle of wine charmed to her back was obviously a burden she was unused to carrying. Hermione laughed, plucked up the puppy in her arms and released the charm sticking the bottle to her back. A quick lick on her cheek of gratitude made her laugh again before she set the squirming and overly proud puppy back on her feet.
She pulled back the linen napkin covering the top of the basket. Inside was a steaming plate of roast chicken, potatoes and vegetables that made the chorus of growls within her gut sound again. A note was placed on top of the charmed plate.
Thought you might be hungry. I made too much. Have a good evening. –Rod
Hermione smiled at the short note. It was a terribly kind gesture from a complete stranger. Sending his dogs to deliver made it all that much more charming. She wondered if part of the reason he was such a recluse was due to a shy nature. Summoning a quill with her wand, she penned a response just below his note.
Rod, Thank you for your kindness. –Hermione
The larger of the two dogs immediately took the note in his mouth once she folded it up. Both dogs ran off back towards the other cottage. Hermione watched them bounce off back home with a big smile on her face thinking what strange dogs they both were. Especially the large one. She was convinced that he must belong to a strange man.
Rodolphus stood at the kitchen sink finishing up the last of the dirty dishes. He could use magic, of course, but at some point he learned that there was something soothing in washing up the Muggle way. Magic was helpful when one was in a hurry to move on to the next task or moment in their lives. He was never in a hurry anymore. Scrubbing and rinsing and drying by hand had become a nightly routine that he enjoyed immensely. All part of his simple life he strove for.
There was a perfect view into the other cottage's kitchen window from his. He learned that lesson years earlier when he witnessed a great deal more of the current Minister for Magic than he ever cared to. Rodolphus could say one thing about Kingsley Shacklebolt. The man had no lack of confidence. Hermione was seated at her kitchen table eating the meal he'd delivered a few minutes earlier. The bottle of wine he charmed to Millie's back was open and already flowing. She seemed like a nice bottle of red would do her some good.
He was not sure what possessed him to share his meal with her. Certainly he had never done the same for any of Sada's past guests, especially not the Minister. Something about her struck him though. Maybe it was because it was so clearly obvious that even at a young age she knew real pain and sorrow. Thinking about how hard she cried into his neck made his throat tight and his heart clench. He could certainly relate.
Rodolphus allowed himself a last look at the young witch enjoying the meal he'd made across the way. His last dish was rinsed and dried. He turned away from the window one final time that night.
The first full morning of Hermione's forced vacation arrived much sooner than she expected. She stretched every muscle she could while still lying down in the decadent bed. Her sleep the night before had without any doubt been the best sleep she had experienced in years. She was relaxed and refreshed. A small part of her wondered if the meal she accepted from her secretive neighbor was laced with some kind of sleeping potion. The theory was quickly dismissed as ludicrous. Years had passed since the last time she failed to perform a precautionary diagnostic spell on her food.
She decided that it must simply be the peace and quiet of the area. And maybe the emotional upheaval of the day before. Maybe the entire bottle of wine she drank by herself. Whatever was responsible for the amazing night's sleep did not really matter. She pulled herself out of bed to prepare for an entire day of not knowing what to do with her time.
There was nothing but tea in the kitchen. Hermione knew that she could not rely on the mysterious man next door to continue to feed her. As she stood at the kitchen sink sipping her tea and mentally composing a shopping list, her gaze focused on the kitchen window of the other cottage. She wondered if the two cottages were mirror images of each other. They certainly appeared to be so based on the exteriors.
A figure crossed in front of the window she was staring into. She could not see a face due to the other cottage being too dark inside and the window too small. Intensely curious about the man, she kept watching his movements. She could tell that he was holding his puppy. When he carefully dropped his pet into the sink, Hermione realized she was looking at a bare chest. A very nice bare chest. Her cheeks flushed. Despite feeling a bit embarrassed and awkward about observing the stranger without his knowledge, she continued watching him give his puppy a bath. After a few minutes of blatant staring, of trying not to imagine what that firm chest and defined stomach would feel like under her hands, she was startled when the man looked up from his task to catch her in the act. Hermione became quite flustered before rushing out of the kitchen. She needed a long shower, possibly even cold.
Once she was clean and free from her earlier embarrassment of being caught spying, Hermione dressed and decided to go for a walk down to the village. It was proving to be a chilly day. She bundled up with a decidedly Muggle-looking coat. When the cool temperature outside her haven struck her, she briefly considered just Apparating down to the village instead. Only the realization that she had no other plans for the day encouraged her to stick to a walk.
She was glad that she walked. The scenery was lovely. As she took her time slowly traveling down the path, she tried to imagine how much prettier the location would be in the spring and summer. Maybe if she enjoyed her first visit she would come back when the weather was warmer. After ten or fifteen minutes of walking, Hermione still had not gotten very far. A rustling noise behind her startled her enough to reach for her wand. The war had been over for seven years but her instincts hadn't received the owl yet. She was paranoid and on edge. Spinning around ready to curse a real or imagine foe, she snorted.
It was the neighbor's puppy happily running through the frozen grass. Hermione could hear shouts of "Millie!" and "Come here, Millie!" and "Damn it, Millie!" Despite the repeated shouts, the puppy named Millie continued to run in the opposite direction of her master's voice. Hermione laughed and cast a spell on the dog to keep it in a bubble barrier. The determined pooch harmlessly bounced off the sides of the bubble.
The reclusive Rod came running up to the two females only moments later. Hermione was surprised to see him. Sada told her she might not see him the entire time she was there. It did not take her long at all to notice that her neighbor was quite handsome. Wizarding genes could make it difficult to determine a person's actual age. If he had been a Muggle, she would've assumed he was in his late thirties or early forties. His dark brown hair was clipped short and sprinkled with just enough gray to give him what her mum used to call a 'distinguished' appearance. A light stubble covering his jaw lent him a casual air instead of appearing disheveled. His deep blue eyes showed a great deal of kindness in the man. He stood an inch or two over six feet tall. Something about his face seemed very familiar to Hermione, but she could not place him. Maybe they'd met before.
"Thank you," Rod said, his voice soft and quiet. "She's still learning commands. Apparently 'stay' is too advanced."
Hermione laughed. He removed her spell to pick up his puppy. Millie immediately began covering his face in slobbery dog kisses making her master laugh. It was a nice sound, Hermione decided.
"Can't stay mad at her for too long," he admitted.
"She's beautiful."
"Thank you."
"And the perfect wine delivery service too. Can't be too untrainable if she can do that."
Rod smiled shyly at her remark. Hermione thought him even more handsome when he smiled.
"She does very well if she has guidance from another dog. A human, however, she's less inclined to mind."
"Thank you for dinner last night. That was very kind."
Rod seemed embarrassed by her gratitude. His cheeks flushed a light pink and he dropped his eyes.
"You're welcome."
"I will have to return the favor. I'm on a forced sabbatical for the next six weeks."
She extended her hand. He did not hesitate in grasping it in his much larger one.
"Hermione Weasley, err, Hermione Granger. Bugger! Just call me Hermione."
"And you can just call me Rod."
He squeezed it before dropping her hand. With a happily squirming Millie in his arms, he turned around to head back to his cottage. Hermione watched him for a few moments and then continued her walk to the village. It was only later that night that she realized she never asked for his last name.
Rodolphus was angry with himself. He held Millie close to his chest as he stormed back home. Why did he send the woman dinner last night? It was completely out of character. He certainly did not know why he stopped to talk with her on the path. Was he not considering how potentially dangerous his actions could prove to be?
If she knew who he really was, he would be sent right back to Azkaban to spend the rest of his miserable existence. Shacklebolt might have removed the dementors as guards but it still was not a location he cared to ever see again. Fourteen years was long enough, thank you.
He knew he could not see her again. Though it pained him for reasons he could not understand, he decided that he would make a better effort to avoid her. He finally had a good life after years of misery and torment. A simple life, just as he always wanted. Seeking out the Granger girl again was just asking for trouble.
The next two days of Hermione's mandatory vacation passed with her doing nothing much more than sleeping late, reading books with no intellectual value and taking long, relaxing bubble baths. Venturing back outside following her trip down to the village was impossible due to a heavy snowstorm that would not let up. She was surprised that she actually enjoyed being snowed in. Her shopping trip filled her cupboards and more importantly, her wine rack.
A roaring fireplace and a heavy throw blanket on the couch was all she really needed to feel comfortable. Several times throughout the two days she was stuck inside, Hermione caught herself staring out the kitchen window hoping for a glimpse of her neighbor. She was disappointed each time. Rod never was visible. Hermione was not sure what it was about the man, but something about him definitely intrigued her.
Following meeting Hermione on the path to the village, Rodolphus kept as low a profile as he could. It was easy to do with the mass amount of snow falling outside. He stayed inside with Millie doing what he could to keep from staring out his kitchen window.
Naturally he failed miserably. He found himself looking out his window a great deal. Even started to feel like a creepy old man. She was much too young for him and if she ever found out who he was or caught a glimpse of the faded mark on his left arm, she would run away in terror. Best to leave her alone. Assuming he could.