Week One – Part Three

The moment she saw the look of what she assumed must have been sheer panic in Rod's eyes, Hermione felt like she was making a huge mistake. She did not know why she was standing in his doorway holding a bottle of wine. Suddenly it seemed so inappropriate. The only reasoning she could think of to explain why she walked through the snow from her cottage to his was simply that she was missing the company of other human beings. Between life as a Weasley and working in the Ministry of Magic, she rarely spent any amount of time alone. She spent a good part of the afternoon after their meeting near the lake trying to decide how she could invite herself next door.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Rod reached across the threshold of the door to grab the bottle of wine. Every movement he made seemed to shout out that he was unnerved by her presence. Hermione immediately regretted coming over. It was rude and very presumptuous.

"Would you like a glass?" he asked.

Hermione worried that he was only trying to be friendly, but in that moment, she really did not care. She gladly accepted with a bright smile on her freezing cheeks. Rod stepped aside to allow her to enter his home. Only two steps inside the cozy cottage, an excited Millie ran to greet her. The happy puppy jumped up on the guest in her exuberance. Rod firmly, but yet still softly scolded her for the unacceptable behavior. Hermione could not help but think he was very adorable. Scents of the meal cooking in the kitchen wafted over towards them. It was a small cottage after all.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized, regretting yet again her rash decision to crash her next door neighbor's quiet evening alone. "I should've known you were in the middle of dinner. I should go back home."

"Have you eaten?"

"No, but I'm not really hungry."

"I never know how to cook for one person. If you don't eat, I'll be forced to eat leftovers for days."

Hermione could not decide if Rod wanted her to leave or if he was being sincere in his invitation. Part of her suspected it was likely a combination of both. Clearly he wasn't used to playing host to strangers barging into his house. Sada said he was a recluse. One didn't become that way by being overly social with the neighborhood.

Possibly the loudest stomach growl Hermione had ever heard filled the near silence of the room. Instantly mortified that such a sound could come out of her own body, she felt her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. Rod turned his head in her direction to smirk. Her attempt to lie about not being hungry had been a failure thanks to her traitorous bodily functions.

"Would you like some crackers before dinner is ready?" he teased.

"No, thank you. Do you mind terribly if we forget that just happened?"

Rod smiled and turned back to the cooker. In an effort to distract her mortified brain, Hermione scanned the small kitchen for wine glasses. Once she located a couple by the sink, she performed a quiet spell to uncork the bottle. She filled both glasses with a liberal amount of the deep red wine. They both seemed like they could use a little liquid courage to continue their evening together. When she handed Rod his own glass, the tips of his fingers brushed against hers. The unexpected contact surprised them both. Rod only narrowly saved the glass from tumbling to the floor.

Hermione knew she couldn't blame the heat wafting off of the cooker for the flame in her cheeks. What was her problem around the man anyway? Something about him unnerved her in a delightfully pleasant manner. It had been a long time since she could honestly say the same thing about another person. She leaned against the counter to watch his movements. If her eyes occasionally drifted from the skillet to the long, lean muscles she could see underneath his jumper, well, who could blame a girl for looking? He was an attractive man. Likely he was used to the scrutiny from undersexed females in his proximity.

"I've always been impressed by a man who can cook," she stated.

Rod glanced up from the skillet to smile shyly at her again. She did not know what possessed her to make such a remark. What if the man thought she was flirting with him? It would be inappropriate since she was still technically a married… Hermione shook her head to dispel all further thoughts of her crumbling marriage from her head. Yes, she might technically still be married to Ronald, but had they not both just simply been going through the motions for the past several years?

"I had to learn how to cook or I'd starve," he replied with a soft chuckle. "My family's last house-elf passed away many years ago."

Hermione had been in the process of taking a sip of wine when he mentioned his house-elf. She was startled enough by the announcement that she almost choked. Rod did not strike her as the kind of wizard who came from a fancy manor with house-elves. Usually only Purebloods owned elves. More than once over the past few days she witnessed her next door neighbor wash his dishes by hand. She knew it was wrong to spy on him, but she was curious. Watching him not use magic to perform basic household tasks made Hermione assume he was either a Muggle-born like her or at minimum a half-blood. Sometimes Harry would start washing dishes by hand without even thinking about it until Ginny would remind him he was a wizard.

"Your family owned house-elves?" She tried to make her voice seem as calm and neutral as possible. Though she absolutely still cared about the rights and protections of their elvish friends, she was far removed from her SPEW days. The last thing she wanted was for the handsome man cooking dinner to think she was nothing but a nutter.

Rod cleared his throat before answering. Over the years Hermione had become a good judge of people's body language and non-verbal communication. Her host was obviously not comfortable speaking about his past. She wondered why. Just what made him so reluctant? Did he have terrible secrets? Most wizards his age were not content to live hidden away in a tiny cottage alone with just a couple of dogs. Her inquisitive nature was beginning to get the better of her. She wanted to know everything, but certainly did not want to insult the man or scare him off. It would be a long forced vacation if she had no one to talk to.

"Yes, my family did," he stated. "Not many were still alive when my father passed. Seemed silly to request more from the Ministry for just me. Rosie was the last one. She died towards the end of the last war."

Hermione offered her sincere condolences. Rod granted her a half-smile and then took a large gulp of wine from his glass. Instantly she felt guilty. It was really none of her business.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you are cooking like a Muggle."

Rod turned around slightly to raise a single eyebrow in her direction. She could feel her cheeks heat up even further than they already were. Damn her complexion and her overly expressive face! Knowing that he was waiting for her to continue, Hermione could not stop the veritable verbal vomit that spilled out of her mouth.

"I just assumed that you were a Muggle-born or a half-blood who was very comfortable with his Muggle side. Every Pureblood I've ever met would jump straight to magic without even wondering if there was something simple they could do without magic. But honestly, with the exception of my best friend Harry Potter who inherited his house-elf from his Pureblood godfather, I've never heard of anyone but the richest of the Purebloods even owning the poor creatures. I hate the term 'own' but over the years I've learned more about them and how they don't actually mind being owned and it's only been the one elf that I've known who really wanted to be free. He was special, but not exactly a good example of common behavior. Excellent house-elf really though. He saved my life during the war at the loss of his own. Poor Harry was inconsolable…"

The wizard was across the tiny expanse of the kitchen in just two strides of his long legs. She might have continued to babble on until she completely ran out of air and passed out in shame and humiliation on his kitchen floor if it wasn't for his hand reaching up to lightly cup her cheek. His touch startled her into silence. There were equal parts concern and amusement dancing in his blue eyes. Hermione hoped that he did not find her blathering to be entertaining. She was always very embarrassed when she got nervous and could not stop speaking. Satisfied that she was calmer, Rod removed his hand from her face. Hermione missed the contact instantly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rod smirked before turning back to dinner. The excitable puppy started to rub herself against Hermione's legs demanding proper attention. Thankful for a distraction, the witch kneeled down on the hard floor to scratch and cuddle Millie. A surprisingly comfortable silence fell over the trio. Hermione was unused to silences that weren't awkward. Years as an honorary and then official member of the massive Weasley family meant there were few opportunities for stillness. She caught Rod watching the two of them play on the floor several times. Now she felt like the one under his scrutiny.

"Do you have any pets?" he asked.

"Not anymore. I used to have a half-kneazle, but he got lost during the war. No one knows what happened to him. I'd like to think he found a new home to be happy in. Haven't had the heart to get another animal since."

Crookshanks would always be something of a sore subject with Hermione. Though he would never come right out and declare it publicly, she knew that Ron had not been disappointed in the slightest that her familiar was lost in the chaos of Bill and Fleur's wedding. She missed the animal dreadfully. A part of her always felt immense guilt whenever she was interacting with another.

"I understand," Rod replied. "There were many years I didn't have a pet of any kind. Lonely years."

Hermione discerned a hint of sadness in the man's tone. She hated it. Though she hardly knew the man at all, she did not want him to feel the same sorrow she often felt when her mind would drift back to Crooks. It was a feeling that she would not wish on her worst enemy. Her mind began to wander when the silence resumed. There were several questions she wanted to ask the man, but most of them seemed impertinent or inappropriate. She did wonder, however, if her curiosity was fueled by an actual desire to know or because she was bored and lonely in her own cottage?

"Once I got my first dog I knew I didn't want to go through life not having another animal again."

She could see the sense in his statement. Spending time with Orville lifted her spirit immensely that afternoon. Realizing she had not seen a hint of the large animal, she scanned the rest of the cottage that was visible for a sign of his presence.

"Where is Orville?"

Rod cleared his throat again at the question. His eyes sought her out without him even moving his head. The hesitation to answer the question coupled with the rising pink in his cheeks made Hermione wonder what she had said wrong.

"He's outside. Likes to roam."

"Is it not too cold out there for him?"

"He's fine. Heavy coat."

"Of course."

Hermione was not sure why she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She also wasn't sure why she was making him feel ill at ease in his own home, but she hated it. Perhaps shoving her way into his solitude was not the best decision. Millie continued to crawl in her lap and beg for attention while Rod busied himself with their meal. She scratched the dog and watched the strange man's movements. Once he was satisfied with all of the ingredients in his skillet, he placed a lid on top to allow the mixture to simmer. The pot of potatoes boiling on the stove was carefully removed with a ratty pair of oven gloves protecting his hands instead of the levitating spell she expected. Rod drained the potatoes into the sink to being mashing them.

"It all smells wonderful," she announced.

"Thank you."

He seemed shy of any amount of praise. Was he just not used to it because he lived alone for so long or had he never really been exposed to people who complimented him? Hermione quietly sighed. She was going to need to start reading more books for pleasure on her sabbatical or her curiosity would drive her mad. Rod transferred the drained potatoes into another bowl to begin mashing. Noticing that both of their glasses were quite low, Hermione carefully rose back to her feet. She carried the bottle over to Rod, accidentally brushing her arm against his chest as she attempted to refill his glass. He almost knocked over the bowl of potatoes back into the sink to her amusement. His clear discomfort with her was more amusing than insulting. Just when she thought the wizard could not get any more adorable, she noticed the tips of his ears were bright red. Hermione covered her giggle with her glass to drink the last of the liquid remaining. Rod gripped his own glass tightly in his hand and took a deep swallow.

"So Mr. Fancy Pureblood with house-elves," she teased, pouring the wine into her empty glass. "You never did tell me your last name."

The sound of shattering glass and a hiss from the man was all she heard in response. Hermione set the bottle and glass down on the counter. Rod's hand was covered in blood. Pieces of the broken glass seemed to be stuck in the wound. She reached for his injured hand without waiting for permission. He seemed reluctant to allow her to clean the blood and glass off of his skin, but did not resist as she used her wand to vanish the tiniest fragments.

"Do you have any dittany? It will heal much faster that way."

Rod pulled his hand back. He excused himself from the room with an embarrassed mutter. In his absence Hermione took over the task of mashing the potatoes for the top of the shepherd's pie. She'd witnessed her mother-in-law make the dish enough times over the years to know exactly what he was making. Several minutes passed before he returned to the kitchen. The poor wizard did not seem to want to make eye contact with his guest. Hermione thought his mortification was just one more thing that made the man adorable. She relinquished control of the potatoes without hesitation.

"Would you like me to pour you another glass?"

His short nod was the only answer she was likely going to receive. Hermione found another glass near the sink to fill with more wine. The lost wine in the broken glass notwithstanding they were going to be at the end of the bottle she brought before much more time passed. She considered bringing more than one bottle, but did not want to seem presumptuous. It was bad enough that she barged into his cottage to begin with. Multiple bottles of wine would have been too much.

She sipped at her glass as she watched the frazzled man move around the small kitchen. He removed a glass dish from the cupboard to assemble the meal. Somehow Hermione managed to keep all of her questions and comments to herself while she watched. As soon as the shepherd's pie was safely in the oven, the tension in the kitchen returned. Neither of the occupants seemed to know what to say to the other. Rod finally gestured to the living room with a silent motion of his hand.

Millie almost tripped Hermione in her excitement to follow them. The puppy ran straight for the comfortable looking sofa to jump up on it in one try. Her tail wagged furiously as she stared at Hermione, begging her with her wide eyes to join her. Not wishing to disappoint the fluffy creature, she sat down on the middle cushion to resume her scratches. Rod settled down in his armchair. A small smile crossed his face at the two of them.

"Is your hand all right?"

"Yes, it was just a moment of inattention, I'm afraid. The dittany worked very well."

"Good. I knew it would. Unfortunately I have quite a bit of experience using it."

She wished as soon as the words came out of her mouth that she had not said them. There was no reason to bring up the horrors of her past with a man she hardly knew. The war had been over for several years. Very few in their country were left unaffected by that tense time. Many, like Hermione, tried to put it out of their minds the best they could by trying to move forward and keep busy with grandiose plans for bettering the future of their society. She often thought, naively of course, that she could actually make a difference in the corruptible Ministry. Nightmares were firmly in her past. She could not remember the last time she had a dream that she was lying on the floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor awaiting torture. Why she let even a hint of her past experiences slip out surprised her.

"How long will you be staying?" asked Rod. She appreciated him deftly moving past her confession.

"I suppose five more weeks. I'm not allowed to return to work until the six weeks of my forced vacation are over."

"'Forced vacation'?"

Hermione took a large swallow of her wine. How much of the story should she come right out and admit to? She did not blame Kingsley for making her leave the Ministry. Her actions the day she walked in on Ron were completely inappropriate. More than once in the week since she recalled the events that transpired and immediately wanted to hide her head back under her covers in shame. She hoped that the time away from work would be enough to aid her in getting over the humiliation.

"It had been a long time since I took a vacation," she explained. It wasn't exactly a lie, just not the complete truth. "Kingsley, err, the Minister, decided it would be best if I took some time off. Work has been stressful lately. I think he was afraid I haven't been taking care of myself."

"I hope you can find the rest you need here."

Their conversation turned to interesting places for her to visit while she was in the area. Rod had a lot of knowledge of the nearest villages and most scenic walks. She was glad to have more information about her temporary home. Remaining in the cottage could get tiresome if she had to do it for the entire length of her stay.

Conversation over dinner was pleasant and light as well. He never asked her anything else about her forced vacation and she did not ask him any of the dozens of impertinent questions that seemed to reside permanently on the tip of her tongue. She complimented him on his cooking. It was really quite good. She had grown used to cold takeaway eaten over the sink and soggy sandwiches from the Ministry canteen. Only at the dreaded Weasley Sunday dinners could she expect an actual warm meal. Her lack of desire to spend hours in her kitchen every day was yet another black mark against her in her husband's eyes.

"I'm sad that I didn't get to see Orville," Hermione declared as she walked to the front door to put her coat back on. Once dinner was over she felt guilty monopolizing any more of Rod's private time. "Would you give him some scratches behind the ear for me when he returns home?"

Rod's sharp bark of a laugh made Hermione smile. Like the proper gentleman she was certain he was raised to be, he assisted her in pulling her coat on. She almost didn't see the need. Her cottage was just a short walk away. She would hardly have time to get cold by the time she reached her front door.

"I will be glad to."

"Thank you for dinner. I apologize again for just inviting myself over. It was rather rude of me."

He smiled again, but did not respond. Hermione knew he was too polite to tell her that she was absolutely right about her actions being rude. Somehow though she could not find enough energy to care. She had had a wonderful time. Honestly, she was already trying to think of a scheme that would allow her to drop by again.

"Have a good night, Hermione."

She stepped out into the snow feeling happier than she had been since before that horrible day at the Ministry.

Rodolphus watched the young witch walk back to her cottage from the doorway of his own home. Every step she took in the opposite direction only made him want to call out to her to have her return. No, he had not been expecting to spend the majority of the evening with the woman, but he was glad that he did. Only the incident with breaking the wine glass in his hand marred the experience. He had simply been unsure how to answer her question about his last name. Breaking the glass was unintentional. However, he could not deny that it served as an adequate distraction at the right time. She had not asked him his surname again. Of course he knew it would only be a matter of time before the question came up again.

Once her front door was opened and closed behind her, Rodolphus returned to the warmth of his own cottage. Somehow it felt empty with just Millie there with him. Normally he did not notice, but an evening spent with the vivacious young witch was just the reminder he did not need that he was a lonely, old man.

Sleep was difficult that night. His mind would not rest no matter how exhausted his body might be. Knowing that he would not be able to fall asleep without doing something drastic, Rodolphus rose from his bed and crossed his small cottage to his front door. He transformed into his animagus form before opening the door. A late night run through the area was usually all he required to calm himself down.

Though his thoughts in his animagus form tended to be much simpler than when he was human, he still could not get the woman out of his mind. He was playing a dangerous game. Any moment he could make a wrong move and be chucked back into Azkaban. Was it all worth it for just a few short minutes of female companionship? Needing to clear his mind, he allowed his canine form to take over. He ran through the snow allowing his nose to lead.

He never could tell time properly as a dog. All he knew was the moon was high in the sky and he was exhausted. Rodolphus turned back around to go home. His gaze landed on the witch's cottage long before he made it to his own. A light was still on in the living room. He was scratching at her front door before he even realized what he was doing. She opened her door within moments with a bright smile.

"Isn't it a little late for visiting?"

Rodolphus pushed past her legs to let himself into the cottage. Hermione's laugh made even his canine heart clench. She closed the door and walked over to where he was sitting. Furious scratches behind his ears in just the place he liked made him whimper to her great amusement.

"I was just about to go to bed," Hermione announced. "Shouldn't you be going home?"

Rodolphus ignored her question once she mentioned going to bed. He headed straight for her bedroom. His paws were off the ground and on top of the soft mattress before his human mind could tell him to stop. Hadn't she mentioned just hours earlier that she would love to have a big, fluffy, warm dog in bed with her? Hermione only laughed when she found him. Part of him expected her to kick him out and send him back to his cottage. When she turned off the lamp and slipped under the covers next to him, he sighed and snuggled up against her.

He was already damned. May as well enjoy what little happiness he could find until his world came tumbling down around him.