Week One – Part Two

The unusually heavy winter storm was all but finished dumping inches of powdery snow on the ground by Friday morning. Hermione woke up a bit reluctantly. Spending the previous several days lounging around the cozy cottage had given her a taste of the indolent lifestyle she had never been able to understand before. And the bed! She was going to have to ask Sada Shafiq the next time she saw her where she got the heavenly mattress. Her new flat, as she refused to live another moment inside the home she had shared with her soon-to-be ex-husband, needed to have a comfortable new bed.

With no agenda or set time schedule, Hermione took her time getting ready for the day. Though she had certainly enjoyed the freedom that came with being stuck inside a cottage for two days while the weather outside was uncooperative, she was anxious to stretch her legs a bit. Too much idleness mixed with too much wine and she would find her clothing not fitting her by the end of her mandatory six week sojourn. Following a small breakfast of leftovers from the previous night's dinner, Hermione bundled herself up in warm clothes to head outside.

Every square inch of the country ground outside was covered in crisp, fresh snow. She forced herself to take several deep breaths of the clean, cool air. Too many years of her life had already been spent slogging away within the confines of a noisy, dirty city. It was perhaps time to make some major changes in her life, including setting aside a regular visit outside of London. Even being married into the extensive Weasley clan she had been able to avoid attending full gatherings of the family at The Burrow for a long time.

Her curious gaze raked over the cottage next door. All was quiet. Only the smoke curling out the chimney proved that there was anyone inside. She was even more intrigued by the mystery that was Rod Something-Or-Other. What was his story? Why was he content to live alone in the middle of the frozen countryside with only two dogs for companions? Hermione decided that he must have had some great love affair with his late wife. Perhaps theirs was a love that only came around once in a person's life. It would make sense why he did not seem eager to move on with another witch's affections. She sighed deeply at the thought. It seemed unlikely that she would ever understand what love like that was truly about. Certainly she and Ron never had it.

Behind the cottages was a well-worn path. Hermione knew the lake was nearby, but had yet to see it. As she had no other plans for the day and a long walk was just what she needed, she started moving. It was a peaceful area much like the long walk to the village from a few days earlier. The only sounds she heard were the few birds still brave enough to spend the winter in the area and the crunching of snow beneath her heavy boots. She could not have gone more than fifty meters from the cottage when the sound of a sharp bark behind her caught her attention.

Hermione spun around and laughed. Rod's large Saint Bernard was coming towards her on his massive paws. He seemed comfortable running in the snow which made sense. His breed had been used to rescue stranded travelers in the snowy Alps for centuries. All he needed was a small barrel of brandy around his neck to be an even more welcome sight. Hermione stopped walking to wait for the sweet dog to catch up. When he was close enough, she smiled at him and began to scratch him behind the ears in the spot she knew he loved. His quiet little whimper of gratitude warmed her heart.

"Where's your master, sweet boy?"

The dog wagged his tail and 'woofed'. Hermione could not help but laugh at his reaction. She scratched him again. Though she had never really hated dogs, she certainly had never loved one before. Something about that particular Saint Bernard made her heart feel warm and open. It also did not hurt that he was bloody adorable.

"Okay, you can come with me."

The witch and the exuberant dog walked further down the path. Rod's dog, whatever his name was, stuck close to her side the entire journey. Once again she was surprised by how much she liked the dog. He was very sweet and very fluffy. Their trek brought them to the edge of a large, silent lake. A few boats were moored there, giving a small glimpse into what the area must be like when the weather was warm enough to actually enjoy being out on the water. There seemed to be a very good reason why Sada had few guests that time of year. It was entirely too cold for much activity.

A couple of chairs near the water's edge caught Hermione's eye. She stalked over to them, knowing without even needing to check that the dog was right behind her. Waving her wand to clear the snow off of the chair, she settled into the seat. She took a deep, calming breath as she stared out over the still water. The dog sat directly on top of her feet. Initially she was ready to order him to move, but the warmth seeping through her feet and legs from his fur prevented her from making him sit somewhere else. She began to absentmindedly pet and scratch the dog's head. It was a soothing activity that helped her feel even calmer. The massive dog carefully leaned back into her legs for even more additional support she appreciated.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it? Maybe Kingsley was right. Maybe I did need a vacation from my life."

Silence fell over the area for several long minutes. Hermione just stared at the water finding it to be soothing and calming. For the first time in years she did not feel like she needed to be doing anything. It was a very freeing experience. Certainly one she could imagine getting used to.

"I'm not very happy."

She did not know what prompted her to make such a bold declaration to the dog who could not speak back to her, but once it was out she did not regret it. The dog whined. He rotated slightly on her feet to be able to lay his head in her lap. Hermione valued the manner in which the dog seemed to be able to give his own support. Words were not needed. Her lips quirked up into a bright smile. She leaned forward enough to be able to kiss the top of the dog's head.

"Probably haven't really been happy in years. Since before the war even."

Before she really understood what she was doing, she was pouring out her heart to the creature. There were so many feelings and emotions that she had been bottling up inside of her for years that just spilled out. Confiding to someone she knew could not use the information against her or be able to repeat her words only encouraged her to keep speaking.

She spoke about the pain she experienced when the war was over and she was able to find her parents again. Kingsley had been a huge support in providing all of the necessary resources available to aid her parents. He was not the only member of the Order of the Phoenix who felt a tremendous amount of guilt knowing that they had not done anything to keep her parents, who were obvious targets, safe and protected. Her inexperience with memory charms meant they would be unable to remember their lives before they moved to Australia. It had been the single worst moment of her life when Professor Flitwick and one of the most respected Healers from St. Mungo's declared there was nothing that could be done to return them to what they had been before.

Hermione described her marriage. How she had clung to Ron because he was there. Both of them had been in such dire pain after the war ended that they used each other for their strength. It had been nice in the beginning to feel like she had his unconditional love and support. She was able to convince herself that she was happy with her marriage and her job even though they both felt soul-sucking. There had been no real fulfillment to find. The dog simply leaned slightly into her more with each upsetting revelation.

"I've always felt guilty admitting that I was unhappy. So many others died when I lived. I felt like I owed it to them to at least pretend to be happy. I suppose by comparison with a brutal death at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, being a bit blue is ridiculous. What right do I have to be sad when I survived?"

She did not like where the conversation was headed. Though she could appreciate the venting and the slight lessening of the heaviness that always seemed to fall on her shoulders since as long as she could remember, it did not do to always dwell on the negative. Deciding that she would do what was necessary to stop being melancholy, Hermione resumed the furious scratches behind the dog's ears. His wagging tail brightened her spirits and made her laughter echo across the empty lake.

"Your master's rather fit, isn't he?"

At her confession, the dog lifted his head abruptly to stare at Hermione. She could almost imagine what the canine was thinking. It only made her laugh harder.

"Can I trust you to keep that a secret for me?"

The dog continued to stare at her for a couple more seconds before laying his giant head back in her lap. Hermione's hands immediately began smoothing down his fur. The renewed wagging of his tail proved the animal found the attention soothing.

"He's the first person I've met in a very long time who was kind to me just for the sake of kindness. Usually people only want something from me. War hero, Golden Trio and all that rubbish. He seemed almost embarrassed that he sent over dinner."

Peace fell over the area again with their renewed silence. She did not know what else to say. Simply having another creature, even if it was a dog, sit with her made her feel like she was not all alone once again in a world that was too big for her. A slight breeze blew over the area, reminding Hermione that she should renew her warming charms. With her wand outstretched to cast, she chuckled.

"Maybe I should get a dog. I get the feeling you would do a good job of keeping my cold, empty bed warm."

His head jerked up out of her lap the moment the words fell out of her mouth. The expression on his furry face only made Hermione laugh again. Who knew that animals could furrow their brows and make their feelings known with only a twitch of their features? He stared at the still laughing witch for only a moment or two before taking off running towards the cottages. She called after him several times with no luck. The animal disappeared down the path.

Rodolphus wondered if there would ever come a time when he would stop being angry with himself. She had not even been there for a week and he had already made a fool of himself multiple times. As soon as he was far enough away from Hermione that he did not have to worry about her witnessing his magic, he transformed back into his human form. He was furious that he actually allowed himself to follow her down to the lake. What was he thinking?

He had been standing at the damned kitchen window again when she emerged from her cottage wrapped in a heavy scarf with a ridiculous knitted hat with an oversized bobble on the top. His eyes followed every movement she made, including the way her eyes sought out his cottage. A hasty step or two backwards prevented the witch from being able to tell that once again he was staring at her from his kitchen sink. When he realized she was heading towards the lake he instantly transformed.

Even approaching her in his animagus form, he was playing a dangerous game. And he had actually laid his head in her lap? He was a disgusting old man. Mentioning him being in her bed had been too much for him. More than once he had already fantasized enough about being there and it certainly wasn't when he was a dog.

"Come back!"

Realizing the voice he had been listening to for almost an hour was only steps behind him, Rodolphus spun around. Hermione's cheeks were rosy from the cold and the burst of exercise running after the dog. Her hat was crooked, no doubt weighed down by the absurd bobble. He wanted to kiss her. All at once he began to shake his head in an effort to get the desperate thoughts out of his head.

"Oh, Rod, I'm sorry. I was just looking for your dog. We were having a lovely visit down by the water and he just took off running. He was doing a wonderful job of keeping my feet warm."

Her laughter made him smile. It was obvious that she babbled when she was nervous. Rodolphus wondered if kissing her would make her stop. Instantly he felt embarrassed by his traitorous thoughts. What would she think of him if she could read his mind? He hoped desperately she wasn't a talented Legilimens. Or even an untalented Legilimens. Surely he was being entirely too obvious. The sudden warmth in his chilled cheeks proved that he was not being as smooth and unruffled as he hoped he was. Hermione smiled again, only exacerbating the problem with his disloyal facial expressions.

"You must think me mad. Having a chinwag with a dog."

"If that makes one mad, then I may be the most insane person you have ever met."

She smiled wider at his response.

"Sympathetic ear on the big one. He let me drone on and on. What's his name?"

It was an innocuous question that should not have caused Rodolphus to panic. No one had ever asked what his dog's name was before. Obviously they had never been in the same room at the same time. Madam Rosmerta used to call him 'Fluffy-Arse' because she did not want to get attached. His presence in her pub was always supposed to be temporary. Fluffy-Arse was certainly undignified. Even when she shorted it to either 'Fluffy' or simply 'Arse' they were no better. Fearing that he was making a complete fool of himself by just staring at the young woman with his mouth half-open, Rodolphus tried to think up a name quickly. It was much harder than he thought it would be.

He had grown up surrounded by dozens of dogs. His grandfather raised them for the illegal sport of Muggle hunting. How could he not remember any of their names? He worried that she was getting suspicious. Only a few seconds had passed though it felt like much longer. What was the one that his grandfather hated because he was too gentle and would rather lick the Muggles instead of chasing them? Ollie… Oliver… Oscar…

"Orville."

Immediately Rodolphus wanted to swallow his own tongue. He could not have picked a more common name for a dog? It was an absurd name that his grandfather bestowed upon the poor dog that was eventually disposed of for not following his orders. There were some sadistic bastards on his family tree that he was most certainly not proud of. With his younger brother in prison for the rest of his natural life, he was the only hope for the continuance of the Lestrange line. He was in no hurry at all to fulfill his duty as pater familias. If their line ended with him, the world would likely only be better.

"Not a name you hear every day," she replied. "I like it."

Her bright smile made him relax slightly. Not completely, of course. Rodolphus could not imagine there would ever be a time when he could be at ease in her presence. She made him nervous in a manner that was not entirely unpleasant. Certainly it was a feeling he had not had the opportunity to experience in many, many years. Though he was still uneasy around the young woman, he was not exactly in any hurry to leave.

"Am I keeping you from somewhere? You seemed in a hurry when I caught up to you."

He did not know how to answer her question. Several awkward seconds passed before he blurted out an excuse.

"I was looking for the dog, but he ran ahead of me. I was just turning back around to follow him when you arrived. You weren't keeping me from anywhere."

Her bright smile made his stomach clench slightly. She likely did not even understand the effect such a gesture had on a dirty old man like him. How much older than her was he anyway? He did not even want to contemplate the math required, but hoped by doing so it might discourage him from following in the direction his trousers seemed to be leading him in. By the time he reached thirty years and he knew there were still more to go, he stopped counting. No sense in depressing himself even further than he already was.

"Do you mind if I walk back with you?" she asked. "Without Orville to keep my feet warm, I'm afraid I need to go inside. Too bloody cold!"

"Certainly."

If he had had more confidence and knew more about the inner workings of the female mind, Rodolphus might have assumed that Hermione was every bit as nervous to be alone with him as he was. She kept up an almost constant chatter as they travelled up the path towards their cottages. He was able to interject a word or two when she asked a particular question about the area they were in, but for the most part, she simply talked about the weather and inquired whether or not he had had enough firewood during the winter storm they had just come out of. Her cheeks were gradually flushing more and more the longer she talked. He tried to brush it off as just the chill in the air. Somehow he could not bring himself to believe that he was responsible for the adorable blushing in her features.

"When I was a child, my parents and I would take lovely weekend trips all around the country exploring new places. I'm sure the last time I was anywhere near here was when I was a tiny, young girl."

He bit his tongue to prevent blurting out that she was still a tiny, young girl. Her jumper might have been filled out quite nicely every time he spied her through her kitchen window, but that did not mean she was an old woman. As long as the world was kind to her, she had at least one hundred more years left to live. Wizarding genes were a great benefit to those not foolish enough to get caught up in a violent war. A disturbing thought of spending over a hundred years married to the woman his Trixie became made him shudder involuntarily.

"It is getting a bit colder, isn't it?" Hermione asked, completely misinterpreting his gesture.

"Yes, I think it is," he agreed.

His thoughts drifted to his late wife while the witch by his side continued to give him a thoroughly detailed weather forecast for the next week. The longer removed from his wife he became, the easier it was to forget the horrible times they shared. Often his mind would drift to those all-too-rare moments when they used to laugh until they cried. Bellatrix could be wickedly funny when she tried. Unfortunately, the longer they spent in the Dark Lord's service and then after the fourteen years they spent in Azkaban, the less she was like the teenage girl he fell in love with when he was eighteen. By the time he was faking his own death to disappear from the side of the woman he'd vowed to love for the entirety of their lives, he no longer recognized her as the girl who used to pick wildflowers to weave into her thick curls on those afternoons they snuck away from their parents to make love on the shores of the pond on his family's estate.

Trixie died years before Bellatrix was cut down in a duel by Molly Weasley. Rodolphus could not pinpoint the exact moment she was gone from him forever, but it did not matter. The longer Bellatrix was dead, the easier it was to remember those carefree days before either one of them was seduced by the pretty words of a madman. Easier to remember the days they talked of children running through the halls of his massive ancestral home. Easier to remember the way they clung to each other when their hearts broke with the loss of their babies and with them, their hopes for a better future. By the time an altered Tom Riddle entered their world to convince them a better society was just within their grasp, his Trixie was almost completely gone.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione's concerned query broke him out of his increasingly depressing reverie. She had stopped walking and was staring at him with a fretful countenance. He attempted a half-smile to put her fears at ease.

"I apologize. My mind wandered there for a bit."

Rodolphus could not be sure if his response was enough to pacify the woman's concerns or not, but moments later they continued walking towards the cottages. The shrill barks from Millie sitting in the window behind his bed startled them both. His mind was still wandering and Hermione was not expecting the sound. Only moments later they were both laughing at the exuberant puppy wagging her tail in the window and jumping on the glass.

"Looks like we have a discipline issue," Rodolphus declared with a chuckle. "She knows she is not supposed to jump on the bed."

"Aww, you don't let them in the bed with you?"

"No. The bed is no place for dogs. They have their own pillows on the floor."

He kept silent on the fact that the reason he instituted the rule of no dogs in the bed was because he still held out hope that one day there might be a woman who would want to crawl in bed with him instead. There seemed no sense in announcing to the girl that he had gone longer than he cared to remember without feeling the warmth of another human being next to him in his large bed.

"I'm sure that is a great disappointment to them," Hermione stated. "I think I would enjoy having a big, fluffy, warm dog in bed with me."

Rodolphus cleared his throat, determined not to return to his earlier thoughts when he was in his canine form. He walked her to her front door before rushing over to his own cottage to deal with the puppy that had obviously just learned how to climb up onto his bed.

Later that evening following an uneventful day, Rodolphus stood in his kitchen peeling potatoes. He had had a craving for his favorite house-elf's shepherd's pie for days. A quick trip down to the village was all it took to get the necessary ingredients. Because he was standing at his sink, it was all too easy for his eyes to wander to the other cottage. Hermione was rushing around the smoke-filled room with a frantic expression on her harried face. A smirk twitched up on his face at the thought that she was clearly a terrible cook, but absolutely adorable when she was trying. That was until her offer from earlier in the week to return the favor of a home cooked meal popped back into his mind. Part of him was a bit worried about what he would have to choke down and pretend to savor if she was as awful as he assumed she was.

He was startled a short time later when he was browning meat in a skillet by a loud knock on his door. Millie, convinced she was something of an intimidating guard dog, began to bark at the sound. Rodolphus wiped his hands on a towel before crossing the small space to the front door. His assumption as to who he might find on the other side of the door was answered when he saw Hermione standing on his doormat holding a bottle of wine.

"I tried to make you biscuits to thank you for dinner the other night, but I have apparently forgotten how to bake. How about some wine instead?"