Week Two - Part Three

Hermione's boldness surprised her. Not that she was some sort of frigid, delicate flower who blushed and stammered at the very idea of sex. She just wasn't usually so quick to launch herself at a wizard. Her experiences outside of her marriage might have been painfully limited, but she wasn't completely useless. Maybe when the moment was over and she was thinking clearly again, she might feel a bit embarrassed. In that moment, however, she didn't care about propriety or well-brought up young women. She just wanted to feel the man's hands on her body, his lips on hers.

No one had ever made her feel more valued. No one. When he ran off, she had been utterly humiliated. Was she doomed to live a life constantly rejected by men she cared about? It was a depressing enough fear that she had been tempted to ignore the knock at her cottage door. She'd seen him return through the blasted kitchen window she couldn't stop staring out of. While she grew a bit excited at the thought that he was back, she was also quite angry with herself for thinking so.

When he admitted to buying the Daily Prophet simply because he didn't like how she was being written about, she didn't know what to say. It was a shock. Knowing how vicious Rita Skeeter was, she could only imagine how nasty the articles had gotten. Ron would never have done anything so drastic. He would've told her to stop reading the paper and just ignore her lies. That, of course, was much easier said than done. She was under no delusions that Skeeter would not continue her vitriol from another less widely read publication, but the magnanimity of Rod's gesture was a bit overwhelming. Why was it so important to him that she not be insulted?

But, it was the admission he made about hexing Ron right in the wobbly bits he enjoyed cramming in random slags that proved what kind of man he was. She wanted to thank him for standing up for her when it seemed that no one else was. Words didn't feel adequate. Whether Rod was more surprised by her kiss or she was would be up for debate. It felt almost as if she was turning off her overactive brain and doing what she wanted for a change.

The clang of the door shutting behind them could easily have been a daunting sound. If she didn't put a stop to what they were doing in that very second, they would just keep right on going to the bedroom. Or the sofa. Or the freezing hardwood floor. It didn't seem to matter to either of them where they went as long as they were still touching. The timidness that initially seemed to be a part of Rod's personality melted away with each tock of the ticking clock. There was a boldness underneath his shy exterior that she found exhilarating.

As Rod's lips molded into hers and it became difficult to discern where she began and he ended, Hermione tried to push aside the frustrating thoughts that crept up. How long had it been since she'd felt such passion? They hadn't even removed any clothes at all and it was still the most exciting experience she'd had in far too long. Towards the end of her marriage, there had been very little touching at all. In fact, if she really wanted to put a number to it, at least eighteen months had passed since she felt any kind of spark with her husband. There had been a couple of half-hearted attempts to get each other off in the meantime, but neither of them had been successful. She didn't want thoughts of her failures to discolor what was shaping up to be one of her favorite moments.

"Are you all right?"

The four simple words that came from Rod's mouth took Hermione by surprise. He stopped what they were doing with an almost sheepish expression on his face. She feared that he was about to do what he had done days earlier when they'd first kissed on her sofa. Imagining him walking back out of the cottage in such a vulnerable moment made her feel the sting of rejection that had become so commonplace in her life. Dropping her eyes to the buttons on the front of his shirt, she prepared herself for the inevitable "we shouldn't be doing this" conversation that she knew would come.

Except it didn't. Awkward moment after awkward moment passed where neither of them spoke or resumed their previous affections. Hermione felt her eyes burn with unshed tears. She was humiliated yet again. Rod still had his arms wrapped around her waist. He hadn't relinquished control of her body. Looking up at him was a daunting task. She made the determination that if she looked up in his eyes and saw pity, she would push him away and leave the area immediately. If there was one emotion she never wanted to see in her potential lover's eyes, it was that.

Preparing herself for heartbreak, Hermione lifted her eyes with a false bravado she didn't feel at all. Nothing about the man's light green eyes made her believe that he was feeling sorry for her. Absolutely nothing. He was worried, of course, but what she saw reflected back in those orbs of emotion was exactly what she was certain he was able to see in hers. There was fear and a desperation to not be pushed away. Was it possible that he was afraid every bit as much as she was that he would see pity or disgust reflected back at him? Something dreadful must have happened to the man, she decided.

They were both broken. That was obvious just by looking at them both. She didn't know all of the details of his life. Truthfully, she didn't want them. She knew enough to know that it had been bad. Without him providing much background, she knew that his wife had become a horrible woman over time. They had had losses and heartache. Just like she and Ron had. Maybe it was unfair to compare their marriages, she didn't know everything after all, but she couldn't help it. She and Rod were both cracked by the failures of their previous lives into a couple of misshapen beings desperately seeking for something or someone to hold on to.

"Never better."

And she meant it too. The entirety of her relationship with Rod might end that afternoon. She wouldn't be surprised at all if they were too embarrassed when it reached its logical conclusion to not wish to see the other again. Sometimes being so vulnerable with another can poison any hope for any kind of longterm friendship. Though she hoped that wasn't the case, Hermione knew that it was a possibility. They had to reach out with both hands to grab whatever they could while it lasted.

Taking him by the hand, she had to coax and pull him a couple of times before his feet would leave the spot they were firmly affixed to on the floor. Once inside the bedroom with the massive bed overtaking the entire room, she felt a little of her courage begin to slip. There was no question what was going to happen next. Much like the closing of the front door was a defining moment in their afternoon, the closing of the bedroom door was that much more so.

She hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. Remembering her courage, Hermione shut the door behind them, effectively sealing their fate for the rest of the afternoon. Or rather, she hoped for the rest of the afternoon. Fate wouldn't be so cruel to drop a delicious gift like this in her lap only for it to last a few minutes, would it? She hoped not.

Rod's boldness from earlier returned with her definitive motion. His lips were back on hers in seconds. Never ceasing in his kisses that sent sparks through her veins all the way down to her toes, he took the lead to bring them both over to the imposing piece of furniture they had both dreamed about being in together, whether or not they would ever admit it. It felt strange to Hermione that neither one of them seemed in a rush to speed up the event. Ordinarily, she was ready for the act to be over as soon as it began. That wasn't a disparagement against her soon-to-be ex-husband's lovemaking abilities. It was more about her heart and desire to be a part of the process.

With Rod, she could've been content to lay on top of the coverlet, fully clothed, doing nothing but enjoying the feel of the man's lips and his hands for hours. Eventually, she was certain that she would explode if it didn't progress, but she was simply enjoying the moment, the experience of being alone with a man she was attracted to. He seemed to feel much the same way. Though bold enough to lay his body on top of hers, Rod wasn't ripping her clothes off in a frenzy and demanding they get to the good stuff. In Hermione's opinion, he too was wishing to prolong their activities.

It had not occurred to her until that moment how painfully lonely the man with the soft lips and the gentle hands was. Much of his story was unknown. Her insatiable curiosity began to get the better of her. Was he feeling the same way that she was? Was he as nervous that something terrible was going to happen? The anxiety that always existed just below the surface began to rear its ugly head. Hermione feared that she was about to do something to embarrass herself, something she wouldn't be able to forgive herself for later. Sensing something had changed in his partner, Rod pulled his lips from hers. His body hovered over hers as he stared down into her face.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

It was a question Hermione wasn't sure she had an answer to. As much as she appreciated the wizard being aware, she wished he would just keep kissing her until she forgot to be nervous. When she tried to lean up to recapture his lips, Rod pulled back a few inches. He wasn't going to let her continue anything until he was certain that everything was all right. She fought the rising disappointment creeping up from her stomach. It wasn't going to be the afternoon she hoped it would be thanks to her stupid fears and worries. Why couldn't she ever just turn her brain off and just live in the moment? Live entirely off of feelings? She sighed.

"I'm nervous."

Though it was the complete truth, she wished she hadn't blurted out what she was thinking. He was going to think her bizarre. Likely he was already planning his abrupt exit. Running seemed to be something he was good at.

"It's been a long time since I… since…"

The embarrassing words just kept coming out of her mouth without her permission. If she hadn't already scared him off, she would with that admission. Nothing killed the mood quite like admitting that she had gone a long time without any sort of satisfaction. He probably thought her pathetic.

"For me too."

Just as she was about to give up hope that anything was going to happen, Rod's confession buoyed her spirits. A sheepish grin crossed his handsome features. Likely he was just as embarrassed as she. Hermione had a new appreciation for the man. Perhaps there was a reason why they ended up in cottages only meters from each other in the middle of nowhere. She didn't exactly believe in fate, but maybe she would allow that there was some sort of invisible force out there pushing the two lonely people together. They seemed to need each other.

"Somehow I doubt that."

She wasn't sure why she was teasing him. If he had done the same to her, she might have crumpled up into some sad, little ball and wished for death. Teasing an attractive single man about not believing that he hadn't been with a woman in a while was somehow less painful than saying the same words to a woman on the verge of divorce. Thankfully, he took the words in the spirit it was intended. Hermione liked him most when he laughed.

"It's not something I'm terribly proud to report, but I'm afraid it's the truth."

"Maybe you shouldn't keep yourself hidden away from everyone in the world then."

A flicker of emotion dimmed his smile. She wasn't sure what was wrong about what she'd said exactly, but Hermione suddenly wished she hadn't said it. He tried to brush it off with another laugh and a voiced concern that he would be complete rubbish. Understanding that he wanted to move on from whatever strange moment they were having, she tried again to distract him with a kiss.

There were no further interruptions, no more concerns that they shouldn't be doing what they were doing.

If anyone had told Rodolphus that morning before he left London that he would be waking up from an early evening nap with a beautiful, naked woman in his arms, he would have laughed in their face. Perhaps even suggested they take a trip to St. Mungo's. There seemed to be no possible way that the enchanting creature snuggled up next to him would have ever invited him into her bed. As much as he prided himself on being an intelligent wizard who could see all possibilities ahead of him, he was glad to be wrong.

They committed acts over the course of several hours that might have made him blush in another time. Part of him would always feel like nothing more than a dirty, old man in her presence, but she had a bewitching manner of making him forget his fears. He didn't want to imagine that a time would come when she would look at him in disgust. It was painful to think about. The very moment that she knew who he was, she would run, and he wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't even try to stop her. What right did he have to force her into such a life?

He was a selfish man. Of that, there was no doubt. It was wrong to keep up the deception he had been. The pain she felt when he ran off to London would be that much worse now that they'd done more than just kiss. A lot more than just kiss. If he was going to be damned, at least he had one blissful afternoon that he could hold in his memory. No one could take that from him.

She seemed so fragile and delicate when she was asleep. Rodolphus knew that he could spend the rest of his life enjoying the presence of the enchanting creature. He didn't deserve her, though. She certainly didn't deserve him, either. In the long run, he would bring her nothing but sorrow and heartache. Remaining with her, trying to pretend like there was hope that any of that could change was a foolish fantasy he needed to let go. Somehow he had to figure out how he could end whatever it was that was happening between them without breaking her spirit. Maybe it would be better if he just came right out and admitted his true identity. At least that way, she would have a valid reason to run.

Only the feel of a gentle hand running across his bare chest had the capability of tearing him away from his increasingly depressing thoughts. The goddess he had been fortunate enough to touch had woken up. He wanted to enjoy the moments they had left together. There would not be another opportunity with her again. Not if she knew the truth. And she had to know the truth. It was wrong to keep that from her. Keeping her in the dark about who he was and the horrific past he could lay claim to was deceitful and wrong. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for what he was doing if he remained silent.

"Having regrets?"

What a preposterous question! Rodolphus clutched her hand in his, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. When he met her eyes, he could see the terror in there that he longed to banish. She was terrified that he had somehow managed to discover some reason to regret their unbelievable afternoon. It saddened him that a beautiful woman so young could have such fear. The Weasley arsehole didn't deserve to breathe the same air she did.

"Of course not."

He sealed his assurance with a kiss. It was over before it really began, but she seemed satisfied in his answer. Hermione laid her head on his chest.

"I'm old enough to be your father."

A giggle and a press of her lips to his flesh was her response. Clearly, she wasn't bothered by the gap in their ages. Part of being a witch or a wizard meant that they each could look forward to well over a hundred years of health. Age gaps didn't mean as much to them as it would if they were both Muggles. It was still a concern to Rodolphus. Not only was he a fugitive Death Eater with no prospects for a future beyond hiding in a cottage in the middle of the country, he felt lecherous every time he even thought about the girl. If any of his children had lived, they would have been older than she. It was a sobering thought and did nothing positive for his self-esteem.

"Perhaps I've been wasting my life chasing after young boys who don't deserve me."

"Of that, I'm certain."

She laughed again. He knew he would never grow tired of hearing that sound. If fate wasn't such a cruel mistress, maybe he would have been given the opportunity to hear it for the rest of his miserable life. Rodolphus tried to banish the thoughts with a shake of his head. There was no use in worrying about the 'what-ifs' when they were nothing but 'never could-bes'.

"Are you having regrets?"

The question fell from his tongue before he could stop it. Did he really want to hear the answer? Probably not. It was too late to take it back. Instead of speaking the world aloud, Hermione's answer to the question was to slide the length of her body against his and kiss him until he couldn't even remember what he'd asked in the first place. In fact, all of his concerns over the events of the afternoon were forgotten.

Their activities might have escalated to another pleasurable climax if the scratching at the front door hadn't been so bloody loud. Rodolphus tried to ignore it, tried to keep his frustration that they were about to be interrupted to himself. When Hermione broke the kiss to listen, he failed to reclaim her attention with another kiss. The tiny, obnoxious bark that met their ears brought a smile to her face.

"Sounds like someone isn't happy that you're in here and she's not."

"Millie is young. She will have to learn at some point to live with disappointment."

Her giggle and a push of her hand against his chest stopped any further affection. It seemed that he was the one that had that lesson to relearn. He laid his head back down on the soft pillow with a groan.

"We can't leave her out there, Rod. It's freezing."

"She has a coat."

A playful swat to his chest was her retort. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of leaving his puppy with the terrible timing out in the snow, he threw the warm covers off of his bare body and set his feet on the floor. The intoxicating sound of Hermione's laughter followed him out of the room. Even he had to admit that the appreciative manner in which she admired his body made him feel a bit more confident than usual. He continued to try to press the nagging thoughts in his mind that he wouldn't be able to experience all of that in the future out of his mind.

Millie sat in front of the cottage with a scowl on her tiny face. How she managed to get out of his cottage at all was a mystery to Rodolphus. He thought he had her safe and secure inside their home before he walked next door to make his apologies for leaving so abruptly. Clearly he was dealing with some sort of escape artist. She was growing smarter with each passing day. He would have to keep a closer eye on her.

Without waiting for permission to enter, the puppy ran across the threshold into the warmth of the cottage. She headed straight for the bedroom, leaving him standing in the doorway entirely exposed to the elements outdoors. Rodolphus rolled his eyes and followed the same path that the little beast had. Hermione's laughter continued at the sight of his puppy trying, and failing, to climb into the bed.

"No, Millie."

His tone was firm, but not unkind. There was a reason for rules. She needed to learn the proper way to behave at her young age. Otherwise, he would have a much more difficult time attempting to correct her behavior when she was older. Upset by the gentle admonishment, Millie fell back on her hind legs to whine. It truly was a pitiful sound. When Rodolphus returned to the side of the bed that he'd just vacated, he was met with another disappointed female staring at him with a pitiful expression marring her own beauty. Rolling his eyes and realizing that he would not be able to win between the two of them, he bent over to scoop up the puppy with one hand. Excited to be on the bed, Millie ran around in circles until Hermione reached out to pet her.

"It's not fair, you two teaming up on me like that."

Hermione only laughed again. Even he had to admit a few minutes later when they were all three snuggled up in the warm bed together that it was nice to bend the rules just a little bit. With Millie happily settled between the two of them asleep, he could see the appeal of spending lazy days just like they were. His concerns from earlier were pushed to the back of his mind. He could worry about what he was going to do next later.

"Where's Orville?"

As much as he hated lying to the woman next to him, Rodolphus knew he couldn't tell her the truth. If he did, she would be angry, and rightfully so, about the number of times he approached her in his animagus form. It had been inappropriate. One more reason why he should pack up and leave the area for good. She deserved better than someone who would continually lie.

"He's probably out roaming. Never content to just sit at home."

"I don't think I've ever seen the two of you together at the same time."

Rodolphus could feel his heart leap into his throat. Was she putting the pieces together? Should he pick up his discarded clothing and make a run for it before it was too late?

"I'm beginning to wonder if Millie is the only dog of yours that actually likes you."

She was teasing him. A grin on her lips proved that she wasn't close to figuring out his secret. Relaxing only slightly, he laughed a little too loudly and gave some half-hearted response about it being difficult for him to compete with her for Orville's affections. He really hated lying.

Few days in Hermione's life were likely to stick out in her memory like the previous day. Though it had started off an a decidedly sour note, it had ended in a far better manner than she could have dreamed. Not content to just spend the afternoon in bed together, they had hardly moved from underneath the blankets all night long. When they grew too hungry to remain in the bedroom, they'd reluctantly gotten dressed long enough for Rod to make them dinner. Her contribution to the meal had been a bottle of wine that they drank in front of the fireplace.

Her cheeks burned at the thought of what happened on the rug when the bottle of wine was empty. She had been pleasantly surprised by the man's stamina and enthusiasm. It was almost as if he was trying to get as much as he could in a single day. Or perhaps he was still feeling guilty about running away after their first kiss that he was simply trying to make it up to her. She wasn't likely to complain about it either way.

At some point in the night, Rod rolled away from behind her back. She was surprised to discover that the loss of his touch was such a disappointment. It wasn't as if she had grown used to feeling a man spooned up behind her when she was sleeping. No, her husband had long ago stopped touching her full stop. That wasn't exactly a complaint. She had done as much as she could to discourage Ron's manhandling towards the end.

Wishing to reclaim some of the warmth her companion was denying her by being so far away, Hermione rolled over on to her side to move closer. She was careful in her movements. He seemed so peaceful in his sleep that she didn't want to disturb him. She snuggled up to his chest just under his right arm. Sensing she was nearby, he wrapped his arm around her back but did not wake. A sliver of light from the rising sun shown through the bedroom window straight into his closed eyes. Rod groaned and covered his sensitive eyes with the back of his left wrist, leaving the inside of his forearm readily exposed.

She had seen the shimmer of the glamour on his arm the day before, but did not think much of it. There were lots of reasons why people chose to cover up their skin with magic. Maybe he had an unattractive mole he didn't want her to see. Or a scar that was ugly. He could have had his late wife's name tattooed on his skin. That was enough of a reason to feel awkward and cover it. The problem with glamours was they were easy to discern and only temporary. If one didn't continually reapply them, they would melt away to reveal what they were trying to hide.

Like his faded Dark Mark. Though it had been many years since she'd last seen one, she knew them well enough to know what they were. There was no way to rationally deny the fact that she was naked in bed with a former Death Eater. How could she have been so foolish? She hadn't demanded to know more about the man before she willingly dragged him into her bedroom. What was she thinking?

His odd behavior over the previous weeks suddenly made sense. He wasn't just a man who liked to be alone. He was a man who had to be alone. If anyone with any amount of authority knew who he was, he would be taken immediately to Azkaban. Everyone with Lord Voldemort's Mark on their arm was serving a life sentence in the notorious prison for their crimes.

She could've cursed herself as the pieces began to slip into place. A proper Pureblood wizard who grew up with house-elves. A horrible wife named Trixie. There was a reason why he always seemed familiar to her even when she couldn't understand why. Over the years she had seen his face countless times in the newspaper. He might have been thinner than he used to be and the grizzled beard that covered his face was gone, but she knew exactly who the man lying next to her actually was.

Waking up to the feel of a woman next to him was something that Rodolphus felt certain he would never get used to. As much as he might like to, he knew it was a fantasy he needed to push out of his mind. Before he opened his eyes and faced the reality of the day, he wanted just a few more minutes with the remarkable witch by his side. He wrapped his right arm around her and moved his other arm over his eyes to keep out the light for just another minute or two.

Hermione's entire body tensed. A soft gasp startled him enough to open his eyes. Had something happened? He couldn't begin to imagine what might be wrong. Her eyes were firmly affixed to his arm. Immediately afraid that he hadn't reapplied the glamour before falling asleep, Rodolphus pulled his arm off of his face and stared down at the hated symbol of the follies of his youth. There was no adequate lie to tell that would explain away what she had so clearly seen.

"When were you planning on telling me that you're Rodolphus Lestrange?"