Week Five - Part Two

There were only so many places in Rodolphus' small cottage that a large dog could hide. Hermione searched every inch of the place without any luck. She didn't know what to think. Orville had just been inside. She witnessed him playing with Millie in front of the fire with her own eyes. It wasn't as if the dog could've exited the front door of the cottage without her noticing. There wasn't another door that led to the outside and she knew that dogs weren't usually in the habit of sneaking in and out of windows. Logic would tell her that he would still be there.

But he wasn't. Each step she took made the tension in her gut tighten. Something was wrong. For once, she knew it wasn't her that was mistaken. As much as the thought of losing her grip on reality terrified her to her very bones, she knew what she saw was real. And if the man standing just steps behind her tried to convince her that she was crazy or mistaken, she would know that she couldn't trust him. Anyone who would lie about something she saw with her own eyes wasn't someone she needed to have in her life.

"Where is Orville, Rod?"

The wizard seemed at a loss for words. He cleared his throat, searching for the right thing to say before opening his mouth. In Hermione's experience, when one was unable to come right out and say what they were thinking, it was a definite sign they were hiding something awful. Hadn't she spent enough of her life alongside a man who would lie to her just as easily as not? She didn't want to imagine that the kind widower she met weeks earlier was just as capable of lying as her soon-to-be ex-husband, but nothing so far was convincing enough to persuade her otherwise.

A possible explanation for the disappearance of his dog suddenly struck Hermione. It was absurd, absolutely absurd. Almost as soon as the idea popped into her mind, she rushed to discredit it. Despite what the fairy tales and other legendary stories would have one believe, there was a branch of magic that was actually not that common. Just because by some sheer miracle three third years were able to figure out the intricacies and remain patient long enough through the arduous and tedious process, did not mean that it was easily attainable. Still, she felt an obligation to ask the man straight out.

"Are you an animagus, Rodolphus?"

"I… well, the truth of the matter is… It was never my intention…"

She didn't need to hear another stammer from the man. Dropping the wine bottle she brought as a gift to the hardwood floor, Hermione turned on her heel and headed straight for the front door. No amount of his pleading would convince her to stop. Anyone who would lie to her so thoroughly wasn't worth her time.

It wasn't until she was back inside the safety of her own cottage alone that the mortification of the whole unbelievable situation struck her fully. Rodolphus was Orville. How could she have not seen it all sooner? The two of them were never in the same place at the same time. Shouldn't the thought that he was an animagus have crossed her mind at least once? Though incredibly rare, there was always the possibility, even if it was infinitesimal, that there was another unregistered animagus wandering around their country.

"No, Hermione, this is not your fault."

No matter what anyone else might have believed, she would never be angry with herself for not figuring out his secret before she did. The vast majority of the magical population was incapable of performing the necessary sort of magic to transform their entire body into an animal. She should know. During her last year at Hogwarts when she'd returned after the war to finish her schooling, she'd begged Professor McGonagall to tutor her privately in the hopes she could become an animagus herself. Hermione followed all of the directions that she read from her books to the letter, held the mandrake leaf in her mouth for the required month, and when it was time to attempt the final transformation, failed miserably. The Headmaster had been kind in her assertion that there were just some forms of magic that were better suited to others.

If that had been her experience, learning that not everything could be learned straight from a book, was she really expected to go through life expecting that every animal she saw was a witch or wizard in hiding? It was a preposterous way to live. That was how paranoid people became even crazier than they already were. No doubt Mad Eye Moody frequently checked random creatures that crossed his path for being human. Hermione refused to ever allow herself to become that unhinged. She would never have a moment's peace looking for Death Eaters in every stray dog or happy squirrel she encountered.

Regretting the fact that she dropped her bottle of wine on Rodolphus' floor before she rushed out of there, Hermione was glad to find she hadn't gifted her last. Ignoring the damned window in the kitchen that brought her nothing but grief, she wasted no time opening up a fresh bottle. Pouring a deep glass, she took several deep swigs of the liquid hoping to calm her nerves.

Beyond being angry about his deception, Hermione was certain that never in her entire life had she ever been so humiliated. Even when the fog of her rage that horrible day in the Ministry lifted and she could stop and consider how drastic her actions had been in front of all of those witnesses, she hadn't been half as mortified. She'd confided in the dog. Cried into his fur. He had been inside her bathroom when she was taking a bath long before she invited the man he actually was into her bed. Merlin, he'd slept in her bed in his animagus form. How could she ever look at the man again without feeling the shame and embarrassment that plagued her in that moment? She wasn't sure it was possible to forgive him for lying to her for so long.

Refilling her now-empty glass, Hermione picked up the bottle and carried it with her into the bathroom. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd drown in the bathtub and never have to worry about seeing the wizard again.

His first instinct was to run out of his cottage after the woman to beg and plead for her forgiveness. Almost immediately after thinking those thoughts, Rodolphus gave them up. There was nothing he could say to make up for what he'd done. How could she ever trust him again? Not only had he lied about his true identity, he'd also kept his biggest secret from her. She was a woman who, unfortunately, had already experienced the pain of an untrustworthy wizard in her life. He would only ever remind her of his failings.

Picking up the bottle she dropped on his floor, he carried it to his kitchen. If ever there was a time he could use a drink, it was in that moment. Trying to keep from invading her privacy yet again by peering out his kitchen window to see what she was doing inside her cottage, the wizard uncorked the wine. Before even reaching for a glass, he pulled a deep drink straight from the bottle. Deciding that he would drink until he found the bottom, he returned to his sofa with the bottle in hand and nothing else. That wasn't a time for glasses.

Millie seemed bothered by his forlorn mood. Unable to understand what was happening in her master's life, she nonetheless made the effort to crawl onto the cushion next to him. Nestling her fluffy head onto his thigh, she provided what comfort she was able. He appreciated the attention. Even if Hermione never wanted to speak to him again, he still had one female in his life who loved him unconditionally. At least for the next eight to ten years, he could rely on that until little Millie ended her too-short life. It saddened him that such pure, precious creatures as dogs only lived a tiny fraction of the time on Earth that horrible wizards like him could expect. Before his body succumbed to a natural death, he had multiple decades to look forward to first. Sometimes the long life afforded a magical being was more curse than blessing.

He would have to leave the cottage soon. Not to make a desperate plea to his nearest neighbor for forgiveness. No, he would need to do what he should've done years earlier when he first secured his freedom from the evil Dark Lord he followed. There was no place for him in his native country any longer.

Part of him despised the fact that he continued to worry about his worthless arse even after knowing how much his actions and his lies hurt the one woman he had no desire to ever harm. He should have been honest with her from the very beginning. And if he wasn't able to be honest, he should have left her alone. The sneaking around to her cottage in his animagus form was wrong on so many different levels. He truly was a dirty old dog, in more ways than one. She was well within her rights to punish him for his transgressions.

Rodolphus couldn't even blame her if she reported him to the Ministry. Even after he told her the truth about the night that Alice and Frank Longbottom were attacked, he was still a convicted Death Eater. There was still a cell waiting for him in Azkaban. All it would take was a single word to the right person and she could have him dragged back to prison where he belonged. He wouldn't even fight them. No doubt she would report him for being an unregistered animagus too. He wouldn't be able to use his special skill to escape.

If he went back to Azkaban, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would go completely mad. It didn't matter that the dementors had been taken away from the island because they'd proven how untrustworthy they could be after their betrayal during the last war. Just the memories of what the place was like once upon a time would be enough torture. The current Minister for Magic made strides immediately after the Dark Lord fell to improve conditions in the notorious wizard prison. Rodolphus had no doubts that it was better than it used to be, but he knew he couldn't last. Imagining being back inside the stone fortress set his teeth on edge and made his skin itch. He wondered if the rats were still an issue. Were they taken care of as part of Minister Shacklebolt's improvements? Part of the reason that he couldn't stand for Millie to be in the bed with him while he slept was because if she moved her fur across his face or his skin while he was sleeping, all he could think about were the rats that ran free through the prison.

No, he was determined that that would not be his fate. Not again. Wasn't a lifetime of solitude where he never had friends or love punishment enough for his inaction that dreadful night so many years earlier? Rising from the sofa, he took another deep swig from the bottle of wine. It was almost half gone. He didn't remember drinking it so quickly. No matter. The alcohol coursing through his bloodstream would only make what he had to do that much easier.

There was no sense in waiting to be captured. If he wanted to keep his freedom intact, Rodolphus needed to leave as soon as physically possible. Several times throughout the five weeks since the enchanting witch moved in next door he packed all of his meager belongings in preparation to run. It never took him long to unpack after he made the decision to remain just a little bit longer. Stopping only now and then to take another drink from the bottle that was disappearing rapidly, he pulled all of clothing out of his wardrobe, rolled them up into messy wads of fabric and shoved them in suitcases.

Perhaps half of his worldly goods were haphazardly packed into various containers when the last drop of wine slid out of the neck of the bottle onto his tongue. He wasn't nearly as drunk as he longed to be. That wasn't an occasion for wine. Dropping the empty bottle in almost the exact same place he'd picked it up from just a short time earlier in the evening, he headed for the kitchen in search of more to drink. Sadly, there wasn't a single bottle of fire whiskey or any other kind of liquid to satisfy his thirst for inebriation. Not even another bottle of wine could be uncovered. He wasn't usually much of a drinker due to the fact that he enjoyed it perhaps a little too much.

Standing at the kitchen sink cursing his bad luck, Rodolphus couldn't keep from staring out the damned window. He had no right to seek out the witch when he'd done nothing but lie to her and hurt her. If the situation had been different… no, he shook his head to dispel all thoughts of "what might have been". That was a path that led to nothing but madness and regret. Changing the past wasn't a possibility. If it was, he would've altered the trajectory of his depressing timeline years earlier. Maybe even figured out a way to keep his hands out from under Bellatrix Black's skirts. Absolutely nothing good came out of his association with the wretched witch.

No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see Hermione. Lights were on in her cottage, but she wasn't in the large main room of the cottage. Likely, she was already tucked away in bed for the night. He hoped that she wasn't hiding under the covers crying. A sharp stab went straight to his heart at the thought that he would be the cause of even more tears for the poor woman. Or, she might be taking advantage of the deep tub in her bathroom in an attempt to soak away all anxiety and thoughts about the man she had the misfortune to meet. Thinking about the second option brought up an entirely different sensation in his traitorous body that he immediately tried to quell. There was no sense in allowing his thoughts to travel down that disgusting road. She deserved more respect from him than lecherous fantasies about joining her in the tub.

Whatever foolish dreams he'd managed to build up in his sad and lonely mind over the course of her stay next door needed to be crushed before he allowed himself to go completely mad. Years stuck in Azkaban taught him how to live another life entirely inside his own mind. While it had been the only way to keep hold of his sanity during those awful years, to try to attempt the same kind of thinking outside of the prison wasn't healthy. Leaving the country was best all around for everyone involved. Perhaps in time Hermione could even forget the humiliation he subjected her to because of his careless actions and blatant lies.

He would never forgive himself if he left again without saying goodbye. The first time, when he went off to London with hopes of starting a new life where she wouldn't creep back into his thoughts, he knew he couldn't say his farewells out of fear that he would never be able to leave. One look in his direction and she would captivate him even further. But, it wouldn't be right to walk away without even attempting to apologize for the harm he'd caused. Glad for the added courage that the bottle of wine provided, Rodolphus rushed out the front door before he could talk himself out of it.

The distance between their cottages never seemed so short before. Long before he even knew what he was going to say to the woman, he was already standing in front of her door. The urge to run began to creep up inside him. If he didn't knock on the front door immediately, he would never have the courage. Lifting his hand, Rodolphus rapped on the wood.

Hermione jumped when she heard the sound of the knocking on the front door. Knowing without a shadow of a doubt who she would find on the other side, she was in no rush to answer. Hadn't there been enough mortification for one night? Of course, she wouldn't have said no to more numbing. There likely wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make her forget what happened. Did Rod really have to come over to her home to make it worse? She'd already finished the bottle of wine she opened while she was in the tub. Dressed only in her dressing gown, she wasn't exactly fit to receive visitors anyway. Especially not ones that she was sorely tempted to hex all of their hair off their head. She finished wiping the water she splashed on her flushed face off with a clean towel.

He was insistent. When the first knock went unanswered, he proceeded to knock again. And again. And again. Each one grew louder and more urgent. Part of her worried that there was an emergency. Could she live with herself if she ignored him when he was truly in need? Sometimes she really wished she could ignore the Gryffindor traits she possessed. Having a sense of noble purpose and feeling the desire to save people could be quite tiresome. It was no wonder Harry seemed exhausted all of the time.

The wizard was in the middle of yet another knock when she pulled the door open. Teetering forward, he seemed unsteady on his feet and in danger of toppling over. Based on the flush in his cheeks, it was evident she wasn't the only one of them who spent the couple of hours apart imbibing. What she might have found endearing even just that morning grated on her nerves. Did he actually think he was going to accomplish something by coming over in that state? She couldn't understand what he was thinking.

"What do you want, Lestrange?"

Calling him by his hated surname was intentional. She didn't want to get too personal with the man. If she did… she couldn't trust herself. Even as she continued to feel the sting of embarrassment knowing that he'd been lying to her as he witnessed private moments she didn't want anyone to see, she felt her resolve slipping. Seeing the flash of pain in his eyes when she reminded them both of who he actually was hurt her too. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain.

"I came to… I came to apologize."

She wasn't surprised that he was there to try to make amends. He was the same man who apologized for running out on her after their first kiss by buying the newspaper that had been printing scurrilous lies about her and firing the reporter she hated above all others. Considering the magnitude of his current error, Hermione half-expected some grand gesture. For him to just walk over in the cold without a coat to offer his apology felt more genuine. She could feel the traitorous feelings that she'd been harboring for the man inside of her for weeks threaten to burst out. A large part of her wanted desperately to forgive him. But, she wouldn't give in so easily. His breach of trust was huge. She couldn't afford to treat that lightly.

"For what exactly? For lying to me about who you really were? For what you were? Or maybe you want to apologize for betraying my trust. For listening to me blather on about you when I didn't realize who you were? For sleeping in my bed before I gave you permission? For watching me in the bath?"

His shame was evident as she ticked off each of his crimes. In the time that passed since she stormed out of his cottage moments after realizing he was an animagus, she stopped to consider all of the dreadfully embarrassing things she'd done in front of him and the mortifying things she'd said to him when he was in his animal form. She wasn't sure that she would ever be able to see a dog again without remembering her humiliation. To know that he'd been there the entire time while she thought she was unburdening her heart to a dog who couldn't understand her words was something she wasn't sure she would ever be able to get over.

"What I did was…"

"Horrible. Unconscionable. Creepy."

Rodolphus balked when she said the last word. It just sort of slipped out of her mouth and Hermione wished she could pull it back in. She knew that he thought their age difference was something to be ashamed of. Even if he had never come right out and said so, she knew that he felt awkward around her because of how young she was. To point that out to him wasn't exactly kind. Just because she was upset didn't mean she had the right to be nasty.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you were absolutely right. What I did was nothing less than creepy. I can't expect you to ever forgive me."

She almost smiled when she realized how much like an overgrown puppy he looked when he was feeling ashamed. There was such sadness in his eyes that she felt tempted to forgive him on the spot. Besides, who hadn't done something they were ashamed of when it came to their romantic pursuits? She still couldn't think about how she practically threw herself at Cormac McLaggen during sixth year to make Ron jealous without wanting to crawl underneath her own bed. Maybe the wine was making her head fuzzy, but she really wanted to forgive him.

But, she stopped herself before inviting him inside with a promise that all was forgiven. Brushing his actions under the rug wouldn't do either one of them any good. What he did was wrong, terribly wrong. She should not only not forgive him, she should be turning him into the proper authorities with the Ministry. How many other people in the years since he went on the run were taken in by his act? Had he slept in other unsuspecting women's beds? Or watched them bathe without their knowledge that the fluffy Saint Bernard they loved to scratch behind the ears was actually a wizard on the run from his past?

"I'm leaving very soon."

"To where?"

There was a note of desperation in her voice that she cursed when she asked him what his destination was. Of course it would be expected that he would leave the area once his secret, both of them, were revealed. It wasn't safe for him to linger in an area where he could be turned over to the aurors. Not knowing what she was capable of, or how angry she actually was, he wasn't wrong to be afraid for his safety.

"I'm not sure. I've stayed too long. It's not… I should really be going."

When he turned to walk away, her fingertips caught the fabric of his sleeve. It was too cold for him to be standing outside with nothing more than the light shirt. The gentle tug on his arm was enough to keep him from moving. Clearly he didn't really want to go. All it would take was a simple encouragement to get him to never leave.

Hermione had never been more conflicted. As angry and hurt as she had been by the man's actions, the thought of him walking away pained her to her very bones. They hadn't known each other that long, but she felt certain that she wouldn't be able to forget the man. Would she spend the next several decades of her life regretting the loss of the wizard she felt so close to in such a short period of time simply because he embarrassed her? What was the point of living if one wasn't capable of forgiving?

She knew it was the wine thinking for her when she pulled harder on his sleeve, encouraging him to step closer. When the haze and fog of her inebriation lifted, she would regret it. She knew it just as she knew she and Ron would never work out. But, imagining never seeing him again felt cruel.

"Why did you lie to me, Rod?"

He sighed, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. His hand slid through her tangled mess of curls to rest on the back of her head. Every bit of skin he touched erupted into goosebumps. She stared into his light green eyes, prepared to forgive him for anything and everything just so long as he didn't leave.

"Because I wanted to be near you but I don't deserve you."

"Come inside. It's freezing out here."

The loss of his hand on the back of her head affected Hermione more than she wanted to admit. Losing the connection was upsetting, something she didn't want to experience again. With the click of the door shut behind him, she made a rash decision. If he was really going to leave for good, she wasn't going to waste her last chance.

Feeling Hermione's lips against his again caught Rodolphus completely off-guard. No matter how devious and delicious his drunken fantasies were for how their visit would go when he was crossing the distance between their two cottages, he never actually expected anything to happen. Certainly not for the charming witch to make the first move. She could be delightfully surprising.

Simply the taste of her mouth told him that she'd been drinking too. It would be wrong to take advantage of her in that condition. But, if she was the one who kissed him first and he was also drunk, was that really taking advantage? Maybe she was the one who was overpowering his inhibitions instead of the other way around. Merlin knew that he could never think clearly when they were in the same room. Before he allowed their kisses to escalate beyond a point they couldn't return from, he gently pushed her away.

"I don't want you to do anything that you might regret, Hermione."

Her response was to untie the flimsy cloth belt holding her thin dressing gown shut. When the fabric pooled at her feet, confirming his suspicions that she was wearing nothing underneath, he worried that he was going to have a heart attack or forget how to breathe again. She took him by the hand, entirely without shame, and led him back to the privacy of the bedroom he still had dreams about.

Morning came too soon. After hours of exploring each other's bodies, remembering what they were beginning to forget, the sun began to creep over the horizon breaking the spell of the night. Rodolphus woke to the first rays peeking through the window. Forgetting where he was for a moment, he smiled when he realized the warm, heavy body pressed into his side wasn't a puppy. He was absolutely positive that he would never get used to waking up to the feel of Hermione's bare skin against his.

It was easy to push aside the discomfort that came with the headache plaguing him thanks to his excesses. What was a little pain for untold pleasure? As much as he knew that it had been foolish to behave so recklessly the night before, he was glad that the enchanting witch was able to accept his clumsy apology. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect to be back in her bed. Not as a man, at any rate. Before she knew his secret, he considered convincing her to adopt him as her pet.

"Rodolphus?"

The sound of her sleepy voice broke him out his dreams. Maybe that was going to be the first day of the rest of their lives together. In time, they might even be able to laugh about how desperate and creepy he'd been in those weeks. It would all be a big joke. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, ignoring the tickling of his nose from her untamable hair.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Get out."

He wasn't sure that he heard her correctly at first. After the night they shared, how could she possibly be so cold? Thinking that it was a cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless, he tried to keep his tone as mild and calm as possible.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Get. Out."