Week Two – Part Two

Hermione couldn't help but be excited to see Rod standing at her front door. She knew that she shouldn't be so eager to have the man come visit her temporary home. They hardly knew each other and had already spent an entire afternoon together. Too much eagerness on her part to show that she enjoyed his company might be misconstrued as being inappropriate.

But when she saw him standing just outside her door, holding a bottle of wine and whistling to his excitable puppy, she found she no longer cared. She could not remember the last time she enjoyed an afternoon as much as she had that day. Every moment with Rod just felt easy. How long had it been seen since she could say the same about someone else? Too long certainly.

She stepped back from the door to allow Rod and the bouncing Millie to enter her cottage. Once the door was closed behind her, Hermione moved towards the kitchen. Feeling the wizard only steps behind made her stomach flutter with nerves. Even after spending so much time around him earlier in the day, she still felt nervous around the man, but she reveled in the feeling. Just as it had been a long time since she felt so calm around a man, it had been a long time since she felt the pleasant nervousness that usually accompanied an innocent crush. Probably since the early days of her relationship with Ron.

"I hope you don't mind me just dropping by," Rod declared as she pulled a couple of wine glasses out of cupboard. "I wanted a glass of wine and didn't feel up to drinking alone."

"Of course I don't mind. I'll be happy to open my door to you if you're bearing wine or not."

The moment the words tumbled out of her mouth, she groaned softly to herself. Had she really just said that? Subtlety was clearly something she no longer was capable of in the man's presence. She busied her hands with opening the bottle of wine before she said something else embarrassing. An amused smirk on Rod's face was not helping.

They stood in the kitchen silently sipping their wine for a couple of slightly uncomfortable minutes. Hermione could feel Rod's eyes on her the entire time, almost as if he was waiting for her to make the next move. Millie sat at her master's feet also staring at the increasingly flustered witch.

Finally deciding that they couldn't remain standing in the kitchen making awkward eye contact for an extended period of time, she smiled and walked back to the front of the cottage. Rod followed close behind. When she stood at the sofa, she decided to conduct a little social experiment she hadn't had cause to attempt in years. Instead of taking the safest choice and sitting in the lone, comfortable armchair, Hermione eyed the sofa. If she sat mostly in the middle of the cushions, she thought she might be able to judge Rod's intentions. If he sat in the armchair, they were in for an evening of safe, uncomplicated conversation. But if he chose to sit next to her on the couch where their legs would almost be touching, that might mean he wasn't just over there for the chance to share a glass of wine with a new friend. It would be much more intimate.

Hermione settled down in the middle of the couch trying not to make it obvious she was holding her breath in anticipation of Rod's choice. He stared at the empty chair for a couple of beats. When she thought he would choose the safe option, she couldn't ignore the disappointment in her gut. She was just about to sigh in frustration when his knee bumped hers as he sat down on the couch.

Before she could feel her cheeks and her neck blush like she was sure they were going to, Millie jumped up on the sofa to distract them both. The happy puppy had no concept that she might have been interrupting a delicate moment. Nor did she care. She wiggled her fluffy, little body between the amused couple. Neither of them could suppress a laugh at her exuberance.

Hermione reached out to pet the puppy. Rod had the same idea. Their hands brushed over the puppy's belly that she was happily putting on display. Jolted by the contact, Hermione pulled her hand back quickly. Another amused smirk crossed Rod's face. It really should be illegal to look that handsome in her opinion. She smiled back and resumed petting Millie a safe distance away from Rod's hand.

"So Orville's out again. Does it not bother you that he's always out and you don't know where he is?"

"Not really," he answered. "He always comes home."

A wave of melancholy fell over Hermione at his words.

"Until one day he doesn't. My cat Crookshanks was the same especially when I was at Hogwarts. Never could keep him confined to Gryffindor Tower. Always out roaming like Orville."

She stopped speaking to take a generous sip of wine. Even years after, his absence still made her sad. Crookshanks was such a happy part of her life. He had been there for her when no one else was. Her years in the castle had often been lonely. Even with Harry and Ron. They didn't understand her and often they were at odds with each other. She didn't expect Rod to understand. Crookshanks was just a cat after all. When she hazarded a glance in his direction, all she could see was concern. He appeared sympathetic.

"May I ask what happened to your cat?"

"Fucking Death Eaters."

The moment the words came out of her mouth Rod almost choked on his wine. He coughed a few times and tried to clear his throat. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable talking about Lord Voldemort's murderous followers. All at once Hermione remembered Rod's wife died during the war. It was an easy fact to forget simply because she didn't want to dwell on the man's sadness. Perhaps the mention of Death Eaters brought back horrible memories of his late wife. She refilled their glasses, hoping she hadn't upset him when he'd hardly even been there long.

"We were at a wedding," she explained. "A wedding at my in-laws, err, well, soon to be ex in-laws. Death Eaters attacked looking for Harry. In the chaos, Crookshanks got lost. None of the Weasleys ever saw him again."

"He could have gotten away."

Hermione appreciated the soft, reassuring tone he used. It helped somewhat. She met his concerned blue eyes and gave him a grateful half-smile.

"Yes, I suppose it's possible that he got away, but I never stopped looking for him when the war ended. Futile, I know. If he wasn't killed during the attack, he's surely died of old age by now."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I know it's just a cat. It's not like I lost a person I loved…" She immediately shut her mouth wishing she hadn't said a word. "Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Rod smiled a slightly pained smile. Millie turned over onto her paws to be able to nudge her master with her head in a gesture of comfort. If it was possible, Hermione felt even more like shit. She had just thought about his late wife. Why did she have to bring up loss again? And over a damn cat? Yes, Crookshanks meant the absolute world to her, but in the end, he was just an animal. She didn't lose her spouse in what was undoubtedly a horribly violent manner.

"Sada told me your wife died when I first came," Hermione stated. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's all right. Truly. I meant what I said before. My marriage was over long before Trixie died."

As soon as his wife's name came out of his mouth, Rod looked sick. Hermione thought it odd. She believed there was clearly more to the story of his late wife, but she did not want to pry. It wasn't polite or friendly to badger a new acquaintance with the gory details of how their wife was murdered. Without even thinking about possible ramifications and just simply because she needed to fill up the tense silence, she blurted out an awkward confession.

"Once I was so angry with Ron that I accused him of killing my cat."

Rod was surprised. He turned his full attention back to her.

"Do you really think he did that?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. It would make sense. Ron always despised her Crookshanks. From the first day she got him at the Magical Menagerie right before third year. He never forgave the cat for almost killing his pet rat. It didn't matter that said rat turned out to be a coward hiding in his animagus form. Crookshanks would never be forgiven. He used to say that she loved her cat more than she loved people. At least that statement was partially true. She absolutely loved Crookshanks more than most people.

"I'd like to believe he wasn't capable, but the man I married is not the same man I fell in love with."

"I'm afraid I understand that all too well myself. My wife was only a shell of the girl I fell in love with when she died."

She took another big gulp of wine from her glass. Rod followed suit. At the rate they were going, they would polish off that bottle before much time passed. Before she spoke again, she wondered if she should offer a bottle of her own. She wasn't ready for him to leave yet.

"Maybe that's why I'm handling all of this better than I imagined I would. I did my mourning for the man Ron used to be years ago."

They sipped the rest of their wine in a comfortable silence. Staring at the flames in the fireplace always calmed Hermione down. She loved watching the wood catch and burn while the flames danced. Sometimes she could almost convince herself she was seeing something in the fire. It was ridiculous, of course. While they sat in the silence, they took turns petting and scratching Millie. Since the conversation took a sad turn, the puppy's big brown eyes had not left her master's face. She kept her tiny, fluffy body pushed up against his for whatever silent comfort she was able to offer. More than once their hands brushed while they were petting the dog. Each time it happened they would both smile shyly at the other but not say anything. Hermione felt at ease with the man. By the time Rod's bottle of wine was completely empty and their glasses needed refilling, she felt the need to blurt out another confession.

"My husband resents me because I'm unable to have children."

Rod stared at her with concern and worry in his eyes. Hermione's heart felt tight. In a single facial expression from a practical stranger, she received more comfort than she ever did from her own husband. Her failure to provide Ron with children had been the single largest issue of their entire marriage. It was not something she was terribly comfortable speaking about with anyone, but for whatever reason, she felt Rod would understand.

"He's from a large family and he's always wanted children. We tried early on, but nothing. We went to a special Healer and found out it would probably never happen."

Rod did not interrupt her as she spoke about her heartbreaking struggles with infertility. He simply sat back and listened. It was strange to Hermione to have someone actually paying attention to her as she spoke. Most people in her life simply waited for her to stop talking so they could speak. Never did they make her feel like they actually cared. She believed for the first time she could finally be honest with someone. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the isolation. For years she felt like no one was truly on her side.

"Ron even convinced me to go to a Muggle fertility specialist after he read about some procedures that were known to work. No idea how he found out. Probably from his meddlesome mother."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of Molly. Her relationship with her mother-in-law had always been a bit difficult. Molly never understood how she could be content to have a career. How many times had she heard about all of the time she was wasting working at the Ministry? She was supposed to stay home and raise a family for her husband. It was no wonder their marriage wasn't happy, in Molly's opinion.

While Molly certainly wasn't a horrible woman, she took too much of an interest in her children's lives. It was doubly hard because Ron had the bad habit of telling his mother private business about their marriage. And naturally, Molly Weasley was a woman who had very firm and set opinions about everything. She was never shy about sharing them either. Nor could she keep a secret.

She hated that the entire family knew she struggled with getting pregnant and staying pregnant the couple of times she managed by some miracle. Everyone within the massive Weasley family treated Hermione differently. When one of her sisters-in-law announced they were pregnant, everyone tiptoed around her to break the news to her gently. Did they think she would break? Or that she wouldn't be happy for them? There was no need. She loved each and every one of her nieces and nephews fiercely.

"We tried. Are you familiar with in-vitro fertilization?"

Rod shook his head in the negative. Hermione wasn't surprised. It was considered a bizarre procedure in the magical world. When she mentioned it to one of her Healers at St. Mungo's, they were horrified by the concept. Realizing that her visitor wasn't bored yet, she explained everything she knew about in-vitro. He seemed fascinated. Of course, Hermione made it a point to learn everything that she possibly could before she agreed. It had been for nothing in the end.

"I was able to get pregnant for a very short time, but I lost the baby very early."

She did not even realize there were tears rolling out of her eyes. Though there were times she wondered if she even wanted children, it was still a painful subject. The gentle touch of Rod's thumb brushing away a stray drop on her cheek startled her. She turned quickly to stare into his face. The concern and sympathy splashed across his features was overwhelming.

"I'm very sorry," he declared in a soft whisper.

Hermione smiled in an attempt to keep from crying. It was sore subject. Likely it always would be. One more way she always felt like she was a failure as a woman. It didn't help that the rest of the Weasley clan was perhaps a little too fertile. She stood up abruptly to walk into the kitchen for another bottle of wine. Rod did not move to follow her. He understood that she needed a moment to compose herself and to simply take a deep breath. As Hermione stood over the kitchen sink wiping away the traitorous tears that would not stop, she could have kicked herself. It had never been her intention to get so serious. Several minutes later, she returned to the living room with another bottle to refill their glasses.

"Did you not wish to try again?" Rod asked once she sat back down on the couch and took a deep drink of the wine.

"Ron begged me to, but it was so difficult that I wasn't sure my heart could handle doing it again. I don't think he's ever really forgiven me for not wanting to try again."

"Were your Healers able to figure out why?"

Hermione took another big gulp of wine. At the rate she was drinking, she would be intoxicated before much more time passed. It would be a smart idea to slow down her drinking, but she did not want to. She felt inexplicably comfortable speaking about what was such a difficult subject with the man. Rod put her completely at ease. She somehow understood that he would never use the information to hurt her.

"Yeah. It was Bellatrix Fucking Lestrange."

Rodolphus' stomach lurched at the sound of his late wife's name coming out of Hermione's mouth. What could she possibly mean that Bellatrix was responsible for her not being able to have children? What had his wife done to the poor girl before she was struck down in her duel with Molly Weasley? He felt sick and was afraid that he was giving too much away. Hermione was known for being an intelligent person. Surely she could pick up on his change in body language and demeanor. He tried to calm down before he trusted himself to speak.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Apparently, according to St. Mungo's finest Healers, exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, especially from a seasoned and powerful spell caster can do irreparable harm to a witch's reproductive system."

She sounded as if she was reading off of someone else's medical chart. There was enough of a disconnect between her words that he got the feeling this was a phrase she had heard many times before in the past. Though it was clinical and harsh sounding, Rodolphus thought he could sense the pain behind her words. Without giving it much thought, he reached across Millie's relaxed body to take the hand that wasn't holding a wine glass in his. Once more startled by his touch like she had when he brushed a tear from her cheek, Hermione stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Even in the dimness of the room, he could see the woman's eyes full of unshed tears. The light of the fireplace reflected back. A firm, but gentle squeeze of his hand seemed to calm her initial fears at the physical gesture.

"This woman tortured you?"

He still did not trust his voice. The anger he could feel bubbling up inside of him was a foreign feeling. It had been a long time since he was angry about anything. Upset, yes. Sad, of course. Lonely, without a doubt. Those were the emotions he was used to feeling. Years had gone by since the last time he felt even a hint of the rage that he could feel building within his veins. If Bellatrix was still alive and standing before him at that very moment, he would not hesitate to do to her what she had done to the remarkable young witch sitting next to him.

"During the war," Hermione explained. "We were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix…"

It was clear that she was reluctant to continue describing what had to have been a harrowing night. More times than he could remember he had been subjected to the same curse by his master and his blushing bride. Even while Trixie was still his Trixie, she would curse him without hesitation. Only towards the end though. When she was losing grip on her reality as the woman he once loved more than life itself. If there was any person still alive in the world who could understand the pain that accompanied his wife's shout of 'Crucio', it was the poor bastard who didn't deserve the privilege of sitting on the same sofa as Hermione Granger and holding her hand.

"Bellatrix needed to get information out of us. Harry was too important to injure. He was needed to soothe Voldemort's…"

He held his breath in an effort to ignore the stinging pain on his Dark Mark. Even years later it still burned and stung if someone spoke his former master's name. The last time she casually said the Dark Lord's name he'd been unable to prevent the hiss of pain coming out of his mouth. He would need to be more careful around her. An Order of Merlin, First Class recipient would not shy away from saying the name of the vanquished wizard her best friend killed years earlier. If Rodolphus was a braver man, he might have even been able to whisper the name quietly to himself in the stillness of his own home.

".. anger at being called back. His blood was too precious to spill. I was the one who was worth the least."

His blood pressure rose rapidly at the simple sentence. He could hear his heart beat pounding in his ear. The anger that was only hinted at earlier when she spoke of his wife torturing her on the floor of Lucius' damned overly ornate hardwood floors returned tenfold. She was worth the least? Rodolphus turned those hateful words over in his mouth several times, tasting their bitterness. If he had a time turner and could go back to that night, he'd leave his safe hiding place at the Three Broomsticks to kill his wife with his bare hands. It was something he should have done years before they were thrown into Azkaban.

"It was hard. I almost gave up a thousand times, but I didn't tell her what she wanted to know. I didn't betray my friends."

"Then you showed more bravery at your young age than most people will their entire lives."

His hammering heart rate sped up slightly when she smiled. Part of him feared he was in danger of having an episode if he did not calm himself down. Even if he was a wizard with a life expectancy longer than Muggles, he was not a young man. Rodolphus took a series of deep breaths. Hermione seemed to understand what he was trying to do. While he breathed in and out, she kept silent.

"I'm very sorry that you experienced that, Hermione."

"Thank you. I'm all right now."

To emphasize her simple statement, she squeezed his hand in much the same way he'd just squeezed hers. It helped… slightly.

"But sadly, the Healers don't think there is anything that can be done for me as far as children are concerned," she continued. "Perhaps it is for the best. I'm not sure how good of a mother I would actually be."

Her words surprised him. His expression must have shown because the softest, most adorable giggle bubbled up out of her mouth. A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth at the sound. His blood pressure slowly began to drop back down to a safer level.

"It's a terrible thing to say, I know, but I think I'd make an awful mother. I can hardly remember to feed myself. How can I be trusted to keep a child alive? Maybe that's what Ron resented the most. Not that I couldn't have children, but that maybe I didn't really even want them."

Rodolphus understood without needing confirmation that she was confiding in him a secret she had never shared with anyone else before. Perhaps she had not even admitted it to herself yet. There certainly were women who were not cut out to be mothers. He'd married one. Though they had initially been overjoyed when she was pregnant with their first child, he always suspected there was a hint of relief when Trixie miscarried. He had been heartbroken, almost unable to function with the disappointment and regret. Bellatrix cried once and then never again. There were three more after her first. Each lost child hardened her heart just as it cut his open anew.

"Children are not for everyone," Rodolphus stated.

"What about you? Do you have any children?"

He tried to smile without revealing too much of the lingering pain that still struck him at the oddest times when that particular subject was brought up. He also tried to ignore the fact that all of his children would have been older than the young witch he was sharing a couch with. Imagining being old enough to be her father was doing nothing positive for his self-esteem.

"My wife and I were unfortunately unsuccessful as well."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. It's for the best, I'm sure. I do well with dogs, but I don't think I would make a good father. They would likely overpower me and convince me to feed them sweets for dinner."

Her tinkling laugh made his stomach flutter. It was such a lovely sound. He wanted to hear it again.

"I would have no control over them. If they cried and said, 'Papa, I don't want to go to bed', I'd probably let them stay up just to get them to stop crying. I'd be the obnoxious father that bought them everything they wanted when we were at the shops. They would become absolute terrors."

Rodolphus loved her smile. It lit up her entire face. She was already young, painfully young, but each time she crinkled up her little nose and laughed, years seemed to fall off of her countenance. Had she always been that serious? Clearly she had grown up too quickly. She had been forced to operate as an adult in a world that was too big for her. It was because of men like him who blindly followed the Dark Lord when deep down they knew better that stole her childhood. Perhaps even her family. Why else was she alone in a cottage in the middle of the countryside instead of tucked in a cozy bed where her mum could coddle her and her dad could gently stroke her hair and remind her that no matter what happened and no matter how old she grew, she would always be his little girl?

He set his wine glass down on the small table directly behind the sofa. Before she could protest, he removed her glass from her hand to set it down next to his. Rodolphus was running on instinct, something he hadn't done in longer than he could remember. She was no longer laughing, but the smile had not yet left her lips. Her head tilted slightly to the side in a questioning gesture that was so reminiscent of Millie that he actually laughed. Without relinquishing hold of her other hand, he used his empty hand to slide across her cheek. His lips were against hers long before he could talk himself out of such a bold and reckless move.