Week Four

Another quiet week in the empty cottage passed for Hermione. She was lonely, even more so than she was when she first arrived so many weeks earlier. To have found a friendship that developed into more ripped away from her long before she was ready was nothing less than cruel. Reality could be a hateful bitch at times. When she was alone with Rodolphus, she felt more at peace than she had in years.

Dwelling on what could not be was threatening to drive her completely mad. Frigid temperatures and another snowstorm kept her inside to do nothing but think. She tried to reclaim some of the joy and relaxation she found in the beginning days of her forced sabbatical by taking long, hot bubble baths and napping longer than any single person should. It didn't help. Nothing removed the thoughts and disappointments from her mind. Not even the bottle of wine she found herself consuming alone each night as she sat on her empty sofa in front of the fireplace trying and failing to ignore the memories of the night they first kissed.

Slipping under the covers in the bed they shared for those too-few hours was also difficult. If she hadn't had the benefit of the wine clouding her thoughts just enough that she could fall asleep into her tumultuous, unfulfilling dream world, she felt certain that she would never be able to spend more than a minute or two in bed. Not when she could still feel the brush of his bare skin against hers, his lips on hers, his body working in rhythm with hers. She was foolish to remain in the cottage after everything that happened.

Her main problem with leaving her temporary refuge, however, was she had nowhere else to go. Options were limited. If she tried to go back to the home she shared with her husband, she would have to face Ron again. She wasn't ready to do that. Part of her wasn't convinced that she would ever be ready to do that. There was so much history between them that when they finally had to be in the same room together again, it was going to be ugly. Completely dissolving her marriage was a task she was not looking forward to. As much as she was ready to move on with her life, severing that tie with her husband would mean much more than just ending a marriage.

She didn't have any family. With her parents no longer in the picture, she was limited. The Granger family had always been quite small. She wouldn't have known what to do with cousins and aunts and uncles. All of her grandparents were long dead. Even if they weren't, they hadn't exactly been a significant part of her life to begin with. Her father hadn't gotten along with his parents. Her mother's parents were too self-centered to care much about their only child and grandchild. When she was young, it had always just been the three of them.

After the war ended and Hermione was finally able to take a deep breath again, she was faced with the heartbreaking realization that she had no one left. The Weasley family welcomed her into their hearts with open arms. Part of the reason it was so easy to make the decision to marry Ron was because she loved his family so much. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if they ever broke up. Losing the Weasleys was a fear that she carried with her for years. When it was evident that she and Ron made a terrible mistake that they both regretted, she hung on to the remaining shreds of their relationship simply because she had gotten so used to being a part of their large family that she felt her heart tighten and her stomach clench at just the thought of no longer being welcomed.

They would all still love her no matter what. Of that, she was absolutely certain. Even if it was no longer possible to return to the Burrow for large family meals at holidays, she knew that at least some of the Weasleys would continue to seek her out. Her sisters-in-law wouldn't want her to be alone. They would continue to invite her to lunch even if it no longer became entirely appropriate to do so. Arthur would drop by whatever wretched flat she eventually ended up in just to make certain that she had everything she needed, ready to fix anything that needed fixing. Molly would keep her cupboards stocked and would send her a Christmas jumper every year without fail. The only member of the family who wouldn't want anything to do with her would be her husband.

Truthfully, she couldn't blame Ron. All of the blame couldn't be placed on his shoulders. Yes, the final straw had been walking in on him with his latest tart. That was a memory she wished she could have burned out of her brain. Perhaps there was a spell she could learn to rid herself of the recollections she'd rather forget. It takes two to make a marriage work and two to make it fail. She hadn't offered up the best parts of herself either. They had simply been too young, too hungry for someone to fix them whether they were conscious of that fact or not. Even if he'd been able to keep his cock in his trousers, they had an expiration date on their relationship. Life would've been easier for both of them if they'd recognized that fact years earlier before they spent so much time hurting the other. Maybe there would've even been room for her in the Weasley family after all. Now, she knew she would have to keep her distance.

When it was time to give up the cottage, she would be lost. Hermione wasn't even entirely certain that she could go back to the Ministry. Beyond whatever mark would've been placed on her performance, she wasn't sure that she could be around the people who witnessed her embarrassing display that day she finally had had enough. Every time she saw them looking in her direction, even if it was all perfectly innocent, she would assume they were remembering how foolish and unhinged she'd been that day. Marietta Edgecombe already had her reasons for despising her. Forced to cross her path again, the wretched witch might not be so frightened of her next time.

She wished more than she had wished for anything her entire life to go back to the moments before she knew Rodolphus was who he was. They had been so happy that day and that incredible night. There was no denying that they had intense and spectacular chemistry. Even simply being in the same room with the former Death Eater set her senses on fire and made her skin erupt in goosebumps. A simple look in her direction from his gorgeous green eyes made her forget she was a grown woman and revert back to a giggling schoolgirl. Even after discovering his identity, she still cared about the man. She wished she could forget his past, forget the damned Mark on his left arm. Didn't good people deserve second chances?

But, could a person ever actually be a former Death Eater? If anyone ever discovered his true identity, he would be sent back to Azkaban without even a second thought. All of Lord Voldemort's followers were wasting away in the fortress. Though it had been improved significantly under Kingsley's tenure as the Minister for Magic, it was hardly a place where one would wish to spend the rest of their natural lives. Considering the heinous crime he was convicted of so many years earlier, his sentence was immutable. There would be no pardons for him, no parole.

Part of her wanted to know the extent of his involvement in that horrible night. Somehow, after getting to know the man on a more intimate level, she couldn't reconcile the man she knew with the monster who helped his wife, his brother, and another accomplice torture two young parents into permanent madness. She had no trouble believing it of his late wife or the man who would one day disguise himself as her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and try to get her best friend killed in the maze of the Triwizard Tournament. Though she didn't know much of anything about his younger brother, she could believe that he was culpable for the crime. But Rod? She couldn't wrap her mind around the very idea.

Of course, most of her didn't want to know anything at all about that night. If she discovered that he had indeed been a willing participant in casting the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly on Neville's parents, she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye ever again. And she very much wanted to look him in the eye. She wasn't sure she had ever wanted anything so much in her entire life.

What kind of future could the two of them possibly have? It was ridiculous to imagine that she could just move on from her broken marriage with the wizard who rightfully should have been locked up in Azkaban. They could never bring their relationship out into the open. She was a well-known person in their society. As much as she hated all of the scrutiny that came with that kind of life, she was always under the microscope of the magical press. It didn't matter that he now owned the most popular wizarding newspaper in Europe. Even he wouldn't be able to suppress the news that Hermione Granger had a new relationship. When it was discovered that she was dating an escaped fugitive and former follower of the Dark Lord, both of their lives would be ruined. He would be back in prison and she would be completely and utterly alone. Who would want to be her friend after that scandal?

It was foolish that she kept trying to consider how they could make it work. What was wrong with her? She should have packed her bags, reported the wizard to the proper authorities, and been on her way to somewhere safer. When it was evident that she had no desire to do any of those things, she knew that she was in trouble. If she wasn't careful, she would find herself in a great deal more pain than she was with the breakdown of her marriage.

By Saturday afternoon most of the snow had stopped. The temperatures were still quite low, but the witch couldn't bear to be cooped up inside the cottage for another moment. Hermione feared that she was at risk of going completely round the bend if she couldn't get some fresh air. Bundling up in her warmest clothes and wrapping a thick scarf around her neck, she stepped outside the front door. Her eyes moved of their own accord to the identical cottage a stone's throw away. Smoke rising from the chimney was still the only indication that there was still a soul living within. As much as she wanted to rush over to knock on the front door, she stopped herself. That would only create even more complications that she didn't need. Staying away from the man for the time being was the only sensible course of action.

She directed her steps down the path behind the cottages that led to the nearest lake. Tracks through the snow coming and going proved that there had been activity while she forced herself to remain inside. She wasn't knowledgable enough about tracking to tell how old they were or even if any of them belonged to humans. Wildlife was plentiful in the immediate area and she knew for a fact that there was a large Saint Bernard that liked to roam.

It saddened her that the creature hadn't come back to her cottage since the day he interrupted the almost-kiss with the Muggle. Hermione thought Andrew had been sweet, if a bit overeager. She had no reason to fear the ordinary man, but Orville certainly didn't appreciate his closeness. Perhaps the canine held out hopes that she would one day join his small family with Rodolphus and Millie. Truthfully, as much as she once believed she had no love for dogs, there seemed something quite peaceful about that existence. Entire days spent snuggled up in front of the fireplace with the dogs doing their part to share their warmth didn't sound bad at all. Hermione knew better than anyone else that she desperately needed to take time out to enjoy the simple things life had to offer.

An excited bark startled her when she was only a few meters away from the lake. Before she was even aware of what was happening, Millie was running at full-speed in her direction. The puppy launched her furry, little body into Hermione's legs, happily barking and wagging her tail. It was impossible to not laugh and smile at such an exuberant welcome. She dropped to her knees, not even caring that the ground was covered in snow and ice, to pet and scratch the creature.

When she heard the heavy footsteps approach, she didn't trust herself to look up. She knew that he was only a few steps away for the first time since that morning. Her heart beat sped up with each second that passed. Petting Millie offered a distraction for the few moments it took to compose herself enough to the point where she felt she could finally meet his gaze. All calm she'd managed to find disappeared the instant her eyes fell on his face. Though he was one of those fortunate beings who would alway be handsome no matter what, she didn't like what she saw. He looked exhausted and very, very troubled. The stubble on his face was too long and she thought he might have even lost a little bit of weight. At least the slightly sunken cheeks seemed to indicate he hadn't been eating enough. His attempt at a small smile fell flat. She felt her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Would they ever be able to get past it all? Should they even try?

"Is it possible that Millie has gotten bigger since I last saw her?"

Hermione was desperate for a neutral subject of conversation. If they were going to have to face the cold, hard truth that afternoon, she didn't want to get directly there. A meandering path towards misery always was better than a straight shot. There was always a chance that she could run before it got too serious if she stalled for time.

Every single day of the rest of his miserable life Rodolphus would berate himself for not running the morning the enchanting witch scratching his puppy found out his true identity. Many times over the almost two weeks since she learned about his past he'd started to pack up his meager belongings. At least twice he was completely ready to go out the front door before he stopped himself and began the unpacking process for yet another time. Even though he knew he was being foolish and reckless with his freedom, he just couldn't seem to walk away.

He'd watched her cottage through his kitchen window more times than he wanted to admit to. It was wrong. Everything he did where she was concerned was wrong. He could live a thousand lifetimes and not know why he could never think rationally around the woman. She deserved better than anything he could offer. Assuming that she lost her mind for even a moment to entertain the idea that they could exist together, where could they go? A life with him would mean asking her to give up everything and everyone she had ever known. How could he ask her to pay such a steep price? He wasn't worth it.

"Not only possible, but definite. She's growing very quickly."

Millie was a safe topic, even if it wasn't the one he wanted to breach. So much needed to be said to clear the air. The way he'd left her that morning without fully explaining himself or his motivations had been wrong. At the very least she deserved to know that it had never been his intention to lie about who he was. If he had a time turner capable of taking him back four weeks into the past, he would've stayed inside his cottage no matter what. She didn't deserve the grief his presence created.

"Will she get to be as big as Orville?"

"Only if she eats too much. Which, I'm afraid, is entirely possible considering how often she tries to steal my dinner."

Her laughter was sweet music to his ears. He wanted to hear it every day, every hour, every moment. There had been a great deal of laughter when they were in her bed. It was an experience he'd never had before. Not even when he was young. Trixie was always so serious about everything, even the very act of making love. She'd never giggled when his breath or his fingers tickled her skin, never threatened to harm him in jest if he touched her in a sensitive spot again. In the later years of their marriage, before they were doomed to spend their lives in Azkaban, she'd approached the marital act as a duty to endure and not enjoy. Listening to Hermione lose herself in him even for that one single day was going to haunt him until the moment he died.

"She sounds like a very naughty puppy."

The enchanting woman's continued laughter and scratches to the puppy proved that she didn't truly believe the words she uttered. Millie was far from being offended. She had no shame when it came to having positive attention bestowed on her fluffy, little body. Content and happy to have Hermione's hands on her, Rodolphus tried to push down the burning envy he felt for his dog. There had been a blissful day when those hands had been all over his body, an experience he would give just about anything to experience again and again.

He took the very simple fact that she hadn't run away in the opposite direction when she realized he was at the edge of the lake as a good sign. Perhaps, there was some part of her that wasn't completely repulsed by the man he was. It might be small, but it was something. He could work with even the smallest crumbs. As much as he knew that it would be better in the long run for him to leave the woman, he couldn't even imagine taking a single step away from her without his heart clenching in agony. Though he felt certain that he was likely being a tad overdramatic, he believed he would rather be dead than gone from her life forever.

"I feel that I owe you an explanation."

The bright smile that had been plastered across her beautiful features as she lavished affection on Millie slipped and dimmed. It saddened him even further that he was responsible for the loss of her smile. Further proof that he would bring her nothing but misery. Hermione began to rise to her feet. Quite out of a force of habit drilled into him by lesson after lesson in the proper manners of a Pureblood wizard, Rodolphus extended his hand to assist. The offering froze her for a moment. When she reached for it to allow the help, he felt his stomach flutter. To willingly touch him again had to mean something. One more crumb. He would take it. Even though she pulled her hand away the instant she was back on her feet, he was still pleased.

"You don't owe me anything, Rod… olphus."

It seemed to pain her to call him by his full name. The fluttering morphed into a sinking. Maybe it had been foolish on his part to assume there would ever be even the slightest chance that she could look past who he once was. But, he wasn't willing to let their conversation end there. Even if that was the last time they ever spoke to each other, he wanted to leave her with the knowledge of the man he really was. Not the man he was when he was wrapped up in the fear and violence of his youth. The man he was in that moment. Some days he could stare at himself in the mirror for hours and not see even a flicker of the child he once was.

"I understand this is all very strange for you. It was wrong of me to not be upfront with you from the very beginning."

"Yes, it is, and yes, it was."

"And if I wasn't willing to tell you who I really was, I should've just left you alone."

Her defeated sigh threatened to break his heart anew. She was far too young to carry such a weight on her shoulders. Deciding that it was a conversation that was best had seated, she cleared the snow off of a nearby bench with a simple charm and sat down. Though it wasn't expressly offered, he accepted the invitation to sit next to her. It was the closest they had been to the other since that morning when everything went to shit. He had to use all of his self-control to not reach out and touch her.

"I can imagine that you have some questions for me that might be a little uncomfortable."

She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. The movement was over almost as soon as it began, but he hadn't missed the sorrow still present in her brown eyes. Knowing that he was the one responsible for putting that there made him want to throw himself into the frigid water of the nearby lake and put them both out of their misery at the same time. Only his terribly wretched fear of drowning kept him firmly rooted to the spot. That, and the still ever-present hope that maybe she would find a way to look past the very worst aspects of the man he had been to see the man he desperately wanted to be.

"Neville Longbottom is one of my dearest friends."

Hearing the name of the boy who would never get to know his parents because of that horrible night struck Rodolphus right to the core. So much had gone wrong that night. The intention was never to incapacitate the young aurors. At least, his intention hadn't been to do so. Whatever Bellatrix had in mind was another story. His wife wasn't exactly in a position at that point in their marriage where she made it a habit of letting him in on her thoughts and plans. There was so much that he had to regret from his years as a Death Eater. So much that he could never atone for in a dozen lifetimes. That night was the worst. He would never forgive himself for the part he played in their demise.

"Alice Longbottom was my cousin."

The shock of his confession elicited a gasp from the witch and her full attention. No longer was she staring at him through the side of her eye. She was staring at him full in the face, waiting for the explanation he knew he would have to give. What kind of person would admit to causing irreparable harm to a family member? It was unconscionable. He couldn't disagree.

"Second cousin, technically, but I'm sure you're aware of all of the intertwining branches of the oldest wizarding families."

She nodded her head, still unable to form a coherent thought into words. He was grateful for the small favor. Maybe if she didn't interrupt him in the beginning, he might be able to get the full story out. While he didn't expect to ever be considered a saint, he hoped that he would at least give her enough of an explanation to prove he wasn't a complete monster.

"I always liked Alice. She was a sweet girl. My younger brother didn't care much for her. They were closer in age and she was always looked upon more favorably by our great-grandfather. Probably because she was just a bit more likable and less of a terror than he was."

There had been a rivalry between Alice and Rabastan that lasted for most of their lives. Rodolphus had been present when it had boiled over into dangerous tempers, for both of them. Alice was no weak, spineless, delicate flower in need of constant protection. More than a few times he had to physically pull her off his little brother to break up one of their rows. She made a fine auror. To know that the fiery spirit had been diminished was a great sorrow to his soul. He would always miss the woman she should've become.

"I wish I could tell you that I went that night only because I was forced to, because I was under the Imperius Curse or because my wife had my bollocks in a vise. It would be a lie. I went because I wanted to be there."

It was the truth, if not the full truth. He knew that his wife was determined, that Rabby had gotten it in his head that Alice and her husband would know something about the Dark Lord's disappearance. Somehow they managed to encourage that simpleton Barty Crouch, Jr. to join. All signs pointed to there being a very bad outcome. Rodolphus wanted to be there, to see if he could deescalate the situation if necessary. There was very little that could be done when the other two Lestranges put their minds to something, but he thought it might be possible to keep it fairly civil.

"I never imagined what happened would happen. Never in my wildest nightmares. I assumed that Bellatrix and my brother would get a little rough, but never to the extent that they did. Frank and Alice were respected aurors, certainly, but even they wouldn't know everything about what happened to the Dark Lord. I assumed that once they realized they would get nothing, they would move on."

He sighed. It had been years since he'd even allowed himself to think over the events of that horrific night. Though never completely out of his mind, since he escaped from the dementors' relentless torture, it had been easier to push the memories further and further away.

"But I was wrong. They didn't move on. They became even more violent and insistent when they didn't get the answers they were looking for."

He was a coward. Every single day since he had been unable to look himself in the mirror without thinking that thought. There was more that he could have done, more that he should've done. Perhaps, if he'd tried to intervene instead of standing around staring at the events unfold in complete utter shock, he might have been able to stop them from progressing as far as they did. The Longbottoms could be a normal family with their son. Maybe there would've been more children. Rodolphus knew that Alice had always longed for a large family. Growing up as an only child had been lonely for her at times. If he had been killed in the process of saving their future, it would've been worth it. After all, what good was his life after that night anyway? He'd certainly never done anything he could be proud of himself for.

"Did you curse them?"

It was evident that she was nervous to ask the question. The wizard admired her bravery even as he envied her for his lack. Turning slightly in his seat, he met her eyes to show her that he was telling the truth.

"I would be a liar if I claimed that I'd never used an Unforgivable before. I have. Many times. There was a time in my life when I used them on a regular basis, but that night? No. Not a single curse."

"Then why didn't you defend yourself when you were arrested? Why didn't you force the Wizengamot to view your memories to prove that you were innocent?"

"Because I wasn't. I am just as guilty for what happened to Frank and Alice because I did nothing to stop them. It will always be my biggest regret."

He didn't expect anyone to understand his reasoning. Yes, he technically could have played the defense that he didn't know what was happening when he went to his cousin's house. His wand could've been easily tested to prove he hadn't cast a curse. But, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he told the lie that he wasn't responsible. He was. He should've done something. His inaction was just as bad as everyone else's actions.

"I could never ask you to forgive me for something I cannot forgive myself for."

There was a softening in her eyes that he didn't miss. She was easy enough to read when she put all of her emotions right there on her beautiful face. A big part of her, perhaps all of her, was ready to forget what a monster he was. He couldn't let her do that. She had already experienced enough heartache in her young life. Imagining that he would cause even more was too much.

"I won't lie and say that I regret getting to know you, Hermione. I know that I should've stayed in my cottage, but I'm glad that I didn't."

"I'm glad that you didn't too."

Rodolphus felt his chest tighten at her softly spoken statement. Could it be possible that even after everything she could still be entertaining the thought that meeting him hadn't been a complete disaster? He took a deep breath before he could trust himself to speak again. Before anything went too far, he had to stop it.

"Beyond the fact that I'm a known fugitive from Azkaban, it's been assumed for many years now that I'm dead. Any sort of life with me in it would be awkward and shrouded in secrecy. Trust me when I say that that is no way to live."

Her face fell. He could've cursed himself for being the cause again. Not trusting himself to remain seated next to her for any longer length of time without reaching for her and begging her to run away with him, Rodolphus rose to his feet. She didn't stop him, didn't even ask. The walk back to his home was cold and lonely. Just as he'd gotten used to his entire life being. He saw no opportunity for that to change at any point.