Week Five - Part One
Hermione wished there were easy answers to all of the questions that plagued her, but she was experienced enough in living that she knew there weren't. Complicated problems rarely had simple solutions. Days alone without any company from any of the souls that lived in the cottage a short distance away made for a lonely existence. More than a few times following the tense conversation she had with Rod at the lake, she considered packing everything up and ending her forced sabbatical early. What was the purpose in torturing herself with the impossible?
By Saturday morning of the fifth week since she arrived at the secluded cottage, she was in another of her depressive funks that she struggled to shake off. Maybe Kingsley found solitude at his cousin's cottage to be conducive to relaxation, but she certainly didn't. Of course, she had the sneaking suspicion that many of the Minister's visits to the cottage weren't alone. It opened up a whole line of thinking about the wizard's personal life that she knew she shouldn't pursue. Everyone deserved a little privacy. Especially the man who spent almost every waking moment in the public eye.
Her time was running out. Before she was ready, it would be time to go back to the Ministry. Just imagining how awkward and uncomfortable it would be to face down everyone who witnessed her breakdown was encouragement to slide back under the covers of the decadent bed and never emerge. Maybe if she was lucky the weight of the blankets would crush her or suffocate the air from her lungs. At least then she wouldn't have to speak to her husband again. With each tick of the clock, she knew she was closer and closer to the moment they would finally have to speak.
She could understand the appeal of living a life on the run and in hiding. Rodolphus did so out of necessity, but perhaps she could do it simply because she desired to be away from all of the trappings of her past. It wasn't as if she had a lot waiting for her back in London. Or the rest of the country for that matter.
Marrying Ron had been a mistake that she regretted almost as soon as it happened. It saddened her to know that their friendship was irrevocably ruined by their rash decision to say their vows. Why was it necessary that they stand in front of all of their family and friends to declare they would be together until death parted them when neither of them knew with any certainty that that's what they actually wanted? They had both been so young and so broken. Someone should have stopped them. Someone should've seen what they were too blind to see.
Fearing that she would only continue to dwell on terrible thoughts of lost potential if she remained in bed, Hermione forced herself to get up. She lingered in a long, hot shower hoping that movement would clear her upsetting thoughts. Unfortunately, all standing in the shower did was remind her of the eventful shower she shared with Rod weeks earlier. Almost as if they'd both known that they would only have one shot, they tried as many positions and locations in that too-short time together as they could. She wondered if she would ever be able to lather up her skin without feeling the ghost of his touch. In that moment, it didn't seem likely.
Dressed and her hair dried with a simple spell, Hermione forced herself to enter the kitchen. As much as she wanted something to fill her belly and a cup of hot tea, she didn't want to be anywhere near the window she'd become obsessed with during her stay. Avoiding it was impossible. It beckoned to her each time she was anywhere close. She wanted to forget it was there. Every time she caught herself looking out it, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rod, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
She appreciated his candor the day down at the lake. If she was completely truthful, she never expected that he would be so forthright about the night that essentially ruined his entire life. It would have been easy to lie, to swear that he was framed for the horrific crime that ruined other lives as well. Part of her even wanted him to tell her that his arrest had been one giant mistake, that he was only implicated because his wife and younger brother were there. Knowing that he stood by and did nothing was hard to hear, but she could take some comfort knowing his remorse. And, hadn't so many years in Azkaban been a steep enough price to pay for his foolishness and fear?
To keep from torturing herself, Hermione turned her back to the kitchen window as she sipped her first cup of tea. There were other windows in the cottage to look out after all. She was fortunate to be tucked away in a beautiful part of her country. To not appreciate it all because she was too consumed with obsessing over an enigmatic wizard next door was foolish, even inexcusable.
Halfway through her cup, she noticed movement outside the cottage in the direction of the village. Expecting to see a large Saint Bernard coming up the path, she set her cup down on the table. It had been days since she last had a chance to see Orville. If he was out and about on one of his roams, she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to give him a scratch behind his ears. When she looked up from the table, a flash of red against the white of the snow startled a gasp from her mouth. Hoping that she was imagining something that wasn't actually there, she grabbed her coat off of the back of a chair. Slipping her feet into the boots left by the door, she threw open the door. The last thing she wanted was a scene.
Her husband didn't see her at first. His attention was focused on moving between the two cottages, as if he was trying to figure out which one to approach. Hermione's feet crunching on the frozen grass was loud enough to draw his gaze directly to where she stood. Being face to face with the man for the first time since that horrible day she walked in on him with another woman in their bed was surreal. She knew the moment was going to happen sooner or later. She just hoped that it would happen when she was expecting it. Having him just appear out of thin air at her hidden sanctuary was disconcerting. Kingsley made a promise to her that he wouldn't tell anyone where she could be found. Only Fleur knew the broadest of details about her destination. Even if she knew the geographical coordinates, she trusted her sister-in-law to keep her secret.
"How did you find me?"
Surely there were better questions to ask first, better statements to make. Used to blurting out whatever was on her mind, Hermione didn't even hesitate to demand to know how he discovered her hiding place. Before he would answer, Ron stalked closer, closing the distance between them. She wished he would stay away. His presence was making her nervous. Her hands trembled slightly and she knew it wasn't the cold. Confrontations, especially not one that was liable to be quite tense, were never fun for her. She could only imagine how poorly it would go.
"Someone in the village recognized you. Said that he thought I might want to know where my wife was hiding all these weeks."
His tone proved that he was annoyed but Hermione couldn't understand what he had to be upset about. No doubt he enjoyed his freedom for the past several weeks without her around. Maybe he was able to desecrate their marital bed several more times with his cheap slags. Well, before Rod hexed his bollocks that is. A curse to such a sensitive part of a body could take a while to recover from. She bit back a grin at the thought.
Her joy lasted only for a moment as she considered what he'd just announced. Someone from the village had been watching her enough to know her true identity? Kingsley made it seem like there were only Muggles in the immediate area. Which of them could have possibly sold out her location?
Andrew. Somehow she knew it without a doubt. Obviously the Muggle who wanted to follow her home wasn't a Muggle after all. She couldn't remember ever seeing his face before, but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't as if she personally knew every witch or wizard in the entire country after all. Andrew must have been Muggle-born. No one could be so convincing as a Muggle otherwise. It bothered her that she didn't find anything odd or unnerving about the man. She felt like she should've been able to recognize when someone was holding back the truth. It was infuriating to know that she couldn't really trust anyone. And he seemed so nice too!
"Why are you here, Ronald?"
She wanted him to go away. His mere presence in what had been such a lovely sanctuary was marring the experience. As long as he knew where to find her whenever he wished, she would find no peace or comfort.
"It's time for you to come home. We can still fix this."
Sometimes she was too harsh on her husband. She always had been. They were both too hard on the other. Each of them had always such unrealistic expectations. Neither of them were innocent even if it was much easier placing the blame of their problems at Ron's feet because of his extramarital affairs. His sins were obvious, hers less so. They were just quite simply two people who should've never gotten married. All they did was make each other and themselves miserable. It was no way to continue living.
Why then was her husband so sure that they could fix their marriage? It seemed to her there was very little worth saving. Even just the thought of going back home to their cold flat to "try again" made her depressed beyond words. Hadn't they already wasted too much of their young lives being miserable? She was never going to be the wife he longed for. He was never going to be the husband she desired. Best to run while they still could.
"Why, Ronald? What's the point?"
She was surprised by the resignation in her tone. Somehow she assumed when that moment finally arrived she would be unable to stop yelling. Maybe even crying. Or cursing. She also thought she wouldn't mind picking up where Rod left off. But, now that it was happening, all she felt was just an extreme amount of exhaustion. All she wanted to do was crawl back under her covers and drift away to a dream world where she didn't have to worry about her next step, where her future didn't frighten her.
"We're married, Hermione."
"So? All we've ever done was make each other miserable. Why would you want to try to save that?"
Ron seemed at a loss for how to respond. No doubt he assumed that she would be willing to come back merely because he asked. It worked in the past. Once they each had a chance to calm down, she was usually agreeable to trying again for appearances' sake. That time, however, she wasn't. Not only had her breakdown been completely humiliating, her time away proved she couldn't go back to living a lie. Even the thought of trying was too much.
"When was the last time you were happy with me, Ron? I mean, really happy?"
The plain fact that he had to put so much thought into coming up with an answer was telling. Their marriage was over, had been for years. Could he not see that? Or was he choosing to willfully ignore it for a purpose she didn't understand?
"No Weasley has ever been divorced."
He spoke so softly she almost missed the content of his statement. Quiet and unable to meet her eyes, the wizard looked ashamed, almost as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world than right where he was standing. Hermione sighed when the pieces clicked together. Ron didn't want to be there any more than she wanted him there.
The tiniest wave of sympathy threatened to crash down on the woman. Only for a passing moment, of course. He wasn't wrong about the history of Weasley marital bonds. In fact, most of the Pureblood families could proudly boast of never facing the scandal of divorce anywhere in their convoluted family trees. Of course, they could also boast of centuries filled with miserable, hateful alliances too. Just because a couple chose to stay married didn't mean they were happy. She refused to waste her life being miserable. Maybe her parents would've felt the same way as the Weasleys, but it didn't matter. Not really. It was her life. No one else's.
"I'm very sorry that you will be the first, but you can't honestly expect me to keep on living this way. It's not fair to either of us."
"My mum told me to find you and make it right."
Hermione sighed. As much as she loved Molly, and she truly did, the woman could be an absolute nightmare when she set her mind to something. Maybe she wasn't aware of the extent of their problems or she was under the delusional impression that nothing couldn't be mended. All Hermione knew was the thought of going to battle with her mother-in-law wasn't one she relished. Every nasty detail of their failed marriage would have to come out. She wasn't sure she had the stomach for that.
"I'm very sorry to disappoint your family, but no, I'm not coming home with you."
When he didn't move to immediately leave, Hermione worried that there was going to be a dramatic scene. Hadn't they already made each other miserable enough? When would it all finally end?
It was wrong to stand behind his cracked front door to eavesdrop on Hermione's conversation with her estranged husband. Rodolphus knew that perfectly well. She was entitled to her own privacy. Hadn't he violated it enough already? But, as much as his head knew what he was doing was wrong, his heart didn't care. Something about the wizard she married put him on edge. It might have only been simple jealousy and anger that the fool would ever seek out another witch's charms when the most desirable one was neglected. Just to ensure her continued safety, he would keep listening.
"Please, Hermione. Don't make me beg."
The boy was tenacious. Rodolphus would give him that. Most in his position would've already given up any hope of reconciliation. He wasn't sure if the boy was that stubborn or just that thick to keep badgering the woman who clearly didn't want him. If he allowed himself to put himself in the other wizard's shoes, he knew he could be sympathetic. He knew all too well about the stigma of divorce in Pureblood families. Many times he dreamed of abandoning Bellatrix. Each time, he considered what it would mean not only for his family's reputation but for hers as well. He never carried through with his plans until he had the perfect opportunity to fake his own death.
Feeling even a slight twinge of sympathy for the cretin made him scowl. He didn't want to see eye-to-eye with a man who could hurt Hermione so easily. Maybe once upon a time he was a kind, good person, but he would never be able to think of the other man without remembering how his wife cried that first day she arrived into his fur. That had been the cry of a brokenhearted, exhausted person. One terrible incident, one wretched day wouldn't put someone in such a state. Whatever was making her miserable had to have been going on for years. As one who knew the signs, he could spot the truth.
"You can beg all you want. It won't change anything. I am not going to go home with you."
"Hermione…"
"No! I've already told you. There's nothing left for me there. I won't go back."
It took all of Rodolphus' self-control not to storm outside to face down the wizard who was agitating Hermione. He wasn't sure where the protective streak came from, but he wasn't trying to stop it. It seemed to him that no one was on her side, not truly. If her Muggle family was worth a damn, she would be with them recovering from the disappointment of her failed marriage. Considering she never once brought them up in any of their previous conversations on more than just a passing manner, it was evident that they weren't in the picture. All she had was her husband's family and what friends she'd made. He got the impression by the distressing lack of visitors that if it came down to a choice of either Hermione or Weasley, most of their friends would pick the idiot.
Life wasn't fair. If circumstances would allow it, Rodolphus would be the staunchest ally and supporter that she had. He would stand between her and danger or scorn or any other number of negative experiences. She was alone because the only person who really wanted her, who really could be on her side was a convicted fugitive on the run from the Ministry. He was a black cloud on her life, always just one step away from capture and humiliation. What sort of life could he expect her to have if he mucked it all up by accidentally allowing their society to know that they were connected? No one would ever trust her again once rumors of her odd friendship and brief dalliance with a Death Eater got out. Even as the owner of The Daily Prophet he would be powerless to stop the flow of news. She would be ruined and it would be all his fault.
A whine from Millie laying in her bed by the fireplace broke him out of his increasingly depressing thoughts. He didn't need to keep dwelling on all of the reasons why he should let the remarkable witch walk out of his life. There were plenty of them existing just at the surface he could latch onto without digging too deeply. His puppy stared at him with a confused expression on her tilted head. She was beginning to be more aware and more perceptive of his moods the older she grew. Even without slipping into his animagus form he could practically read her mind. It was easy to communicate with an animal if one simply took the time time to learn their cues.
Suddenly, a thought struck him. He was known as a man with a history of terrible ideas and plans. After all, he'd actually married Bellatrix Black and didn't kill her soon after. There was a way that he could lend his support to Hermione without putting himself in danger of getting caught. Transforming into his animagus form before he could talk himself out of doing something so foolish, he growled a warning at Millie to stay put. He wasn't entirely sure what the consequences of his actions might be and she didn't deserve to get caught up in any potential crossfire. Crying her dislike of the order, his puppy snuggled back into her bed. Pushing the door open the rest of the way with his nose, Rodolphus bounced out onto the frozen grass where the married couple were still speaking.
Neither of them paid him much attention. Hermione granted him the smallest of smiles before turning back to her worthless husband. The git's eyes widened slightly at the sheer size of the new arrival, but he didn't seem threatened. It was enough to calm Rodolphus' nerves to stand inches away from the witch he longed to protect. If it came down to it, he felt that ripping out the redhead's throat would be entirely possible. He didn't care much for the taste of blood, but he was willing to make sacrifices.
"You should go, Ron. Tell your mum that I'm a terrible person who refuses to listen to what you have to say. She's probably going to paint me as a bad wife as it is."
The sadness in her voice struck Rodolphus right in the heart. She was too young to carry such weight on her shoulders. How miserably alone must she be feeling at that moment? He gently leaned his entire body against her legs, being careful not to knock her over.
"Now you're just being ridiculous, Hermione. Mum loves you. She always has. And she'll be willing to forgive you if you just come back with me."
Even a dog knew the words the boy chose were poor. Hermione's eyes shot up from where they had been focused on the ground into her husband's. The resignation was absent. All that poured from her light brown eyes was pure rage. Weasley seemed taken aback by the abrupt change. Rodolphus' assumption from earlier that he must be quite thick returned. Even if he possessed the logic and intelligence that his wife claimed he did, smart people still made stupid decisions sometimes. No one was perfect.
"Forgive me? Your mum will be willing to forgive me?"
As much as Rodolphus would've given anything to have the opportunity to spend the rest of his miserable life with the enchanting creature, he hoped to never be on the end of her furious temper. Part of him even felt sorry for her husband. He wasn't going to like what happened next.
"For what exactly, Ronald? Staying with you for years despite knowing you were cheating on me with multiple women? Putting up with your foul moods and your petulant tempers? What could your mum possibly need to forgive me for?"
"Now you're just being unreasonable."
The low growl came out of Rodolphus' mouth before he even realized he was stalking closer to the cretin, thereby placing his body between the two. He would rip him apart limb by limb if it would put a smile on her face. Weasley didn't appreciate the change in his stance. Definitely didn't appreciate how close his exposed teeth were getting to him. When he started to slowly back away, the animagus felt pride in his action.
"Leave, Ron. Just go."
Ignoring the canine wishing him harm, the younger wizard stepped closer to his wife. He reached his hand out to grab her arm.
"No, I'm not leaving until… fuck!"
The sharp bite to the wizard's right calf nearly toppled him to the ground. Rodolphus wasn't planning on causing any permanent damage. He just needed to make sure that his point was made. No one grabbed his witch. No one.
"Goodbye, Ronald."
Rodolphus made sure that Hermione was safely inside her cottage before he ceased his growling and threatening snapping of his jaws. He sat in the grass until he was certain the obnoxious arsehole was well and truly gone.
Several hours passed after Ron's impromptu visit before Hermione felt calm again. His sudden appearance put her on edge. If Orville hadn't been there, she felt certain that the row would've continued much longer. Maybe she would've even bitten Ron herself. Godric knew that she often fantasized enough about it in the past. She was grateful that the usually gentle Saint Bernard wasn't afraid to step in to keep her protected from an unfriendly outsider.
Once her tears finally stopped and she only felt numb, she took a long nap. She tried to finish one of her worthless novels, but nothing could keep her attention long. Her eyes kept drifting over to the window that she knew would give her the perfect view of the kitchen next door. Just as late afternoon began to morph into early evening, she couldn't stand it any longer. There was no harm in taking a gift next door to thank the master of the dog who saved her from a very awkward, uncomfortable experience.
She was wrapped in her cloak and halfway to Rod's house with a bottle of wine in her hands before she could talk herself out of doing something so rash. Pursuing a friendship with a known Death Eater on the run was foolish, dangerous even. Actually desiring much more than a friendship with so much worse. She shook her head to dislodge any upsetting thoughts. Just a few minutes with the man and his dogs was all she desired. Nothing had to come of it. They could just talk.
When she passed by Rod's kitchen window outside, she stopped to take a peek in. A harmless glance at the inside of the cottage before she knocked on the front door wouldn't hurt anyone. She smiled to see Orville wrestling Millie on the floor in front of the fireplace. Both dogs seemed to be having the time of their lives. There was no sign of Rod, but he could've easily just stepped out of the room for a minute. Remembering how pleasant the thought of snuggling up on a couch with Rod and his two dogs was, Hermione smiled to herself and continued her trek to the front door. She lifted her hand to knock.
Rodolphus couldn't be sure how many times the visitor knocked on his front door. He'd been so busy playing with Millie that he wasn't even sure he heard the first couple. Each one grew louder than the last until he couldn't ignore it any longer. Only two people ever knocked on his door: Sada Shafiq and Hermione. He knew which one he wished it would be, but wasn't about to hold his breath in anticipation. Transforming quickly back into his normal form, he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his rapid breathing. He hated how obvious it was becoming that he was getting old. Millie could play for hours without shortness of breath. What stamina little puppies possessed!
Still trying to breathe normally, he opened the front door. To his delight, it was the witch he desired. Her face split into a bright grin. Holding up the wine bottle for him to see, she stepped inside his cottage before getting an invitation. Not that she really needed one. She was always welcome.
"I wanted to come by to thank you for your dog's help today."
He knew he would have to pretend like he didn't know what she was saying. For all she knew, he wasn't anywhere near the cottages when they were arguing. Pretending that he was confused, he allowed her the chance to give him a brief explanation.
"So you see, I owe Orville some rather large scratches behind his ears. Where is he?"
She started to look around the small cottage for evidence of the dog. Rodolphus wasn't sure what to say. The fact that his dog always seemed to be out roaming whenever he was around was a bit suspicious. If she ever confronted him about it, he would have to come clean with the entire truth. That was a moment he wasn't looking forward to.
"He's probably out sniffing for rabbits again. Can't seem to get enough with chasing them."
Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.
"But I just saw him. Right here. Playing with Millie."
He could feel his cheeks begin to burn under her scrutiny. Unable to trust himself to speak, Rodolphus stayed silent. Hermione wasn't satisfied. Not caring that it could be considered rude, she began a search of the cottage for the dog he knew she would never find. He was going to have to confess it all.