Week Six

Allowing Rodolphus back into her bed was the absolute worst mistake Hermione could've made. How were they supposed to move on if she kept pulling him back? Because they had to move on. There was no future worth having that they could share. Pushing aside the painful fact that he had been lying to her from the very beginning, he was a fugitive. A Death Eater. Where would he even fit in to her life? They could never be openly together. She certainly couldn't introduce him to her friends who were the only family she really had left.

But waking up in Rodolphus' arms just felt right. Like she'd finally found the place where she belonged. All the more reason that she needed to break off what was happening as quickly and cleanly as possible. The longer they waited, the harder it would become. And it was already hard enough.

She would take full responsibility for the night that should've never happened. As much as she longed to blame the alcohol coursing through her for the terrible decision to invite the equally inebriated man inside her cottage, she couldn't. Stone cold sober she would've done exactly the same. All rationality and logical thinking escaped from her usually methodical mind when he was near. If she didn't know any better, she might've assumed she was under the power of a strong love spell or potent love potion. But she knew what she was feeling was real.

It didn't make much sense at all that she would fall so quickly and so thoroughly for the man. While some blame could be attributed to her heightened emotions and vulnerability following her complete breakdown at the Ministry, she knew that the results would have been the same even if the conditions were different. Something about the man made her feel so comfortable, much more relaxed than she had ever felt before with anyone else. When she stopped to truly consider the future, there were more reasons to throw caution to the wind than there weren't. That had to be a sign that she wasn't thinking clearly.

As much as she might have liked to ignore all of the problems, she struggled to forgive him for lying to her. What else was he hiding? A man didn't go on the run for so many years without accumulating more secrets. If she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that they could move past the lies he already told, would she wake up one morning to find out there were more? Even if he promised her that she knew everything about him, she would still wonder if she could trust him or not. She'd already been married to a man she discovered she couldn't trust. Entering into a relationship with another one who had a history of lying didn't sit well with her gut. Not after the grief her soon-to-be ex-husband put her through and would likely continue to put her through until their marriage was officially dissolved.

Hermione wished that she could take back what she did that night. Hearing Rodolphus out, accepting his apology would have been enough. Honestly, it would have been more than he really deserved. No matter how much they both would like to forget the fact that he had a past, he did. Truthfully, he should've been back in Azkaban. A life sentence passed down from the Wizengamot wasn't something that should be easily tossed aside. So why did the thought of the gentle man returning to that wretched place fill her with such dread?

Shaking her head in a fruitless effort to dislodge the upsetting thoughts that continued to plague her, she discovered she had no answers. Nor was she likely to ever. Perhaps it had been cruel to kick him out of her bed that chilly Monday morning without giving him an explanation, but she couldn't afford to question her actions. Not when so much was at stake. If she allowed herself to go down that miry path, she would be trapped, forever unable to walk away from the wizard.

Rodolphus didn't cause much of a fuss when she repeated her command that he leave her at once. Likely a part of him had been expecting that sort of reaction all along. She only had to repeat herself once before he understood. Sliding out from underneath the covers they'd shared the night before, instantly she regretted her words. As she heard him pick up his discarded clothes from off the floor where she'd thrown them in the heat of their passion, she wanted to call after him to stop. She couldn't bear to open her eyes to see him walk out of her room. To do so would only encourage her to scream at him to come back.

She wasn't sure how long she continued to lay in the bed after the sound of the closing of her front door behind the wizard assaulted her ears. Long enough to feel every tear she was capable of producing roll out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Long enough to feel her eyes burn. Long enough for the spot where he'd spent the night to grow cold.

It was cruel to treat him so. She would never deny that fact. Maybe to outsiders her actions would make her seem indecisive and cold. They couldn't possibly know how it ripped her apart inside to cast him out. Surely she wasn't the only person in the entire world who made a poor decision when she'd been drinking. Alcohol muddied the waters. She had enough trouble thinking clearly around him when she was completely sober. No, outsiders could label her whatever they desired. It didn't matter to her what they thought. There was no one alive who hated her more in that moment than she hated herself.

Fantasies always had to come to an end. That was a lesson Rodolphus had had to learn time and time again. He would have liked to admit that he wasn't surprised by the turn of events the morning he woke up with the beautiful, young witch curled up in his arms, but he wasn't. A part of him would always assume that anything good that came into his life wouldn't last long. There was a long history of the world turning to complete shite for him when it seemed like everything was finally going his way. What might have turned other men bitter only served to reinforce the understanding he possessed that good things didn't always come to good people. And they certainly didn't come to people with a past marked with crimes and violence he would regret to the end of his days.

Before he stepped out of her bedroom and as he picked up his clothes she'd almost ripped in her passionate quest to remove only mere hours earlier, he stopped to take one last look at her lying in the middle of the bed. The sheets were still crumpled thanks to their enjoyable exertions. Two of the pillows were still on the floor where they fell after he threw her on top of the mattress and the bounce back up made her laugh. She'd reached out to grab onto the bed to keep from falling off and managed to push the pillows off. Even in the aftermath, when they were both so tired that there was no chance of anything further happening, neither of them thought to pick them back up. All he could see was her messy hair splayed across the white pillowcase. He feared that that would be the last glimpse of the woman he'd come to care very deeply for he would ever get. And it was far from being enough.

Closing the front door behind him after he took the time to dress in her front room hurt more than he expected. It felt so final. There would be no reason for him to ever come back over to her cottage. He'd done what he came to do. Whether she ultimately accepted his apology or not didn't matter. He'd offered it. She made her decision. Two words that would eat away at him for as long as he remembered her face. And he expected to never forget it.

Millie could sense almost immediately that something was wrong when he pushed open his own front door. Sitting up from her pillow by the fire, she yawned, stretched, and hopped off to offer her master comfort. Mostly entailing leaning her entire body against his legs until he was almost knocked off his feet, he appreciated the effort nonetheless. Though she was quickly getting to be too big to carry, he picked her growing body off of the floor to wrap his arms around. Her enthusiastic lick to his face lifted his spirits. Not much, but a little. More than he expected. Part of him worried that he wouldn't ever be able to get over what just happened. But, he knew he was just being overly melodramatic. He'd survived worse than a bruised heart. If fifteen years in Azkaban didn't kill him, the loss of his friendship with the woman next door wouldn't either.

Besides, she would be leaving soon anyway. Her stop in the nearby cottage was only ever going to be temporary. The Minister only suspended her for six weeks. While it was a lovely fantasy to imagine that she would stay there longer, there had always been an expiration date on her time there. He knew that from the very beginning. Wishing otherwise was pointless. She had an entire life out there in the wider world that he could never be free to be a part of.

All he would ever be to her was a burden. Even if she fell out of bed, hit her head, lost all of her common sense, and decided to act on the foolish idea of remaining with him forever, they would never last. What kind of life could he offer her beyond hiding in the shadows and hoping that no one ever found them? He certainly couldn't meet any of her friends. Though she didn't speak of her family at all, he knew there must be some sort of relatives she could claim out there too. Maybe the Muggles she could introduce him to without fear. Anyone who knew anything at all about the magical world? Not a chance. His face was well-known even after so many years of the general population believing him dead. One glimpse of his face by the wrong person would ruin both of their lives. Better that he only have to worry about himself.

More nights than he cared to admit to since she came into his life unexpectedly, he'd lain up in bed imagining a world where it was possible for the two of them to be together. Even that first night she arrived, after she sobbed into his fur, he dreamed about whisking her away to a place she'd never have to be in danger of such sadness ever again. Though he knew nothing about her, he wanted to protect her from the nastiness of the world. Surely somewhere outside of the country there was a place they could find peace and happiness together. It was a foolish dream, one that he knew he had to give up.

She was right to kick him out of her bed. He would bring her nothing but sorrow if he was allowed to stay in her life. Everything he touched turned to ash.

The last week of Hermione's forced sabbatical passed more quickly than it had any right to. As tempted as she was to run away from the area the moment Rodolphus exited her cottage, she was stubborn in her refusal to leave until her time was up. When she was first taken to the area six weeks earlier, she had no idea the rest and joy that she would find there. Not even considering meeting the wizard next door as that was still a sore subject to dwell upon, she couldn't remember when she'd last enjoyed a break so much.

Every single day of that week she had to remind herself that she would be making a mistake if she ran outside and forgot everything that passed between them to beg his forgiveness. Her dreams at night were filled with delicious fantasies of a world where they were free to be together and her days were filled with remembrances of the two nights they spent together that turned her cheeks bright red. Staying inside her own cottage was torture when her heart desired nothing less than what she saw in her head. It was easy to forget the difficulties, the impossibilities, when she was lying in a cold, empty bed staring at the spot where she'd been fortunate enough to twice have a warm, affectionate wizard. Sleep usually only came in those last few nights after she'd consumed more wine than was healthy.

She didn't know what she was going to do once her six week forced holiday was up. Returning to the Ministry of Magic to her former position sounded like the worst possible fate. No one would ever take her seriously again. Not after she'd attacked two women so brazenly in front of so many witnesses. If she wasn't already a massive joke to her former coworkers after that incident, Rita Skeeter's dragging her personal life and failures through the mud likely did the trick. Though she might have been sacked at the Daily Prophet thanks to Rodolphus' interference, a wretched woman like that probably already had another job at a less prestigious publication. No doubt her anger at losing her job encouraged her to continue her campaign against Hermione.

Even with Kingsley as her supporter, she worried that her career at the Ministry was essentially over. Maybe she wouldn't be sacked immediately, but Hermione knew that there would be several who would never respect her again. Or they would live in constant fear that she would have another episode. Like a ticking time bomb, everyone would be waiting and watching for another incident. Years, possibly even decades would pass before what she did would be forgotten. Everyone loved juicy gossip. Thanks to her fame after the end of the war, she was made even more interesting than most. Chances for promotion would be slim. Any hope that she would one day become Minister for Magic were dashed. No one would support a loose cannon in the highest position in their government.

It surprised her that she was less afraid of her future and more excited for the opportunity to try something different. If she hadn't walked in on Ron at the absolutely worst possible moment so many weeks earlier, she might have been content spending the next several years of her life pretending like she didn't know what he was up to and working too much. What sort of joy could she find in an existence like that? For the first time, she really began to consider the possibility that her future might exist somewhere outside of the Ministry. In the past, that would have terrified her. She made plans for the rest of her life back when she was in Hogwarts. Once the war was over and she completed her last year at Hogwarts, she mapped it all out. Finding all of her plans to be completely useless was not nearly as upsetting as she assumed it would be. Somehow, she'd figure out where she needed to go, what she needed to do. Until then, she looked forward to cutting off the ties to her husband that had brought her nothing but misery for years.

She wished they had never gotten married. Not that Ron was a terrible person. He really wasn't. Yes, he'd made many mistakes throughout their marriage, but she certainly wasn't completely innocent herself. They just simply did not work well together and they made very little sense. Maybe if they'd listened to the tiny voice in the back of their minds telling them not to get married they would've been able to salvage their old friendship from the wreckage of their failed relationship. It was too late to hope that they could ever be friends again. With the loss of her husband, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she lost his family too. In the beginning, like she'd already determined, various members of his family would make an effort to retain something of their past relationships. Eventually, they would all drift apart.

It pained her to realize that she would lose her friendship with Harry too. She had no doubt that he would argue with her and state with complete conviction that that would never happen, but she knew better. As Ron's brother-in-law, a point would come where he had to choose. The two wizards had been friends longer and they were just as close as they had been in Hogwarts. Probably even closer. In her quest to rise to the top of the career she no longer believed she even wanted, Hermione distanced herself from all of her friends. Just as her schoolwork tended to take precedence in her life when they were young, she allowed her job to become more important than her friendships. Taking the six weeks to stop and really think about her life showed her that ugly truth. She couldn't even blame those who would take Ron's side in the inevitable divorce. Perhaps if she had been a better friend she would be able to count on more support.

And she couldn't exactly rely on her family to provide her with any guidance. They were a topic that was better left undisturbed. She didn't expect to darken the doorstep of anyone related to her by blood ever again. There was too much history, too large of a barrier. When she first entered the wizarding world, she'd been appalled to learn how many Muggle-borns ended up eventually cutting ties with their Muggle relations. She couldn't understand why anyone would do something so drastic. Years later, she understood. Even when she tried her hardest to explain to her parents what life was like for her when she stepped into the other world she was now a part of, they couldn't understand. Part of her still felt ashamed of the fact that removing her parents' memories before she left to go on the horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron was more of a relief than a hardship.

On her last day in the idyllic cottage, she tried to push away the uncertainties that plagued her about what she would do next. If she'd learned nothing in her life, she learned that worrying about a problem never solved it. Lots of people didn't know what they were going to do with the rest of their lives. While most people had at least some idea of their hopes and goals for the futures, most of them were just taking life day by day. Her time away from the stresses of her everyday life taught her the importance of slowing down, of not worrying when she didn't know the answer to everything.

She didn't want to leave. Even with the awkwardness of the past week since she sent Rodolphus out of her bed, she found comfort there that she had never felt anywhere else. It was insulating, safe. When she stepped back out into the real world, she didn't know what she would find. And the thought of walking away knowing the wizard she'd come to care about very deeply was still there tore at her aching heart.

For days she tried and failed to avoid the kitchen window. Somehow she got it in her mind that if she didn't actually see evidence that he was still there, she wouldn't think about him every single second of the day. As it turned out, not only did she think about him incessantly, she couldn't prevent herself from looking for him out that window. When she would catch herself staring, hoping that he would move in front of the glass in his cottage, she would pull away. All she was doing was prolonging her torture. Hadn't she already made up her mind? She couldn't afford to second-guess herself again.

When everything she owned was packed up and all traces that she'd ever been a guest in the cottage were missing, Hermione wasn't ready to go. A note sent through the Floo from Sada Shafiq, the owner of the cottage, welcomed her to take as long as she needed to clear out, but she knew she couldn't impose herself any further on her hospitality. Kingsley only offered the use of the cottage through the last Sunday of her six weeks. It seemed rude to linger longer than absolutely necessary.

By mid-afternoon, she was ready to leave. Before she turned her back completely on the cottage that had brought her joy and relaxation in a difficult time, she wanted to leave with a clear conscience. Leaving her packed bags just inside the front door, she stepped outside into the chilly air. Smoke rising from the chimney next door proved that he hadn't run away. Not yet. Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders back and took the first steps toward Rodolphus' cottage since that night she discovered his darkest secret.

No one answered when she knocked. Worried at first that she hadn't knocked loudly enough due to her nerves, Hermione tried again. Still no answer. Not even a bark from within told her that someone was inside. Either no one was home or he didn't want to see her. She hoped desperately that it was the former. Even though she knew she hurt him, she couldn't leave without saying a proper goodbye. He'd been a good friend to her when she needed one. Further proof that she couldn't think clearly about anything to do with the man.

She hoped that he'd only gone down to the lake. If he went for a walk to the village, she wouldn't follow him. Not after meeting Andrew and the dirty trick he pulled telling her husband where she could be found. She didn't trust herself not to curse the man she believed to be nothing but a harmless Muggle if he crossed her path again. Setting her course for the edge of the lake where she'd spent many relaxing, happy hours, she tried to remain calm. Thinking about seeing Rodolphus again, especially for what was sure to be the absolute last time, made her nervous. What was she going to say? What would he say in return?

There wasn't enough time to come up with the perfect opening line. Long before she was ready, Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the happy barking of an excited puppy. She looked up just in time to see Millie run towards her at full-speed. Thankful for the immediate distraction from the man that was slowly walking in their direction, she took the opportunity to scratch the slobbering, jumping dog. The previous six weeks gave her the chance to question her long-held feelings about the merits of canines. Maybe she wasn't a dog person, but at least she didn't despise them as she had in the past.

"I'm beginning to think that she likes you more than she likes me."

"You're not jealous, are you?"

It took him a moment to realize that the enchanting witch was actually teasing him. Only seconds earlier he'd been lost in his own thoughts as he stared over the placid water. What he was thinking was always some variation of the same thought. And they always seemed to revolve around her.

"Maybe a little."

Her smile threatened to take his breath away. He felt a lurch in his stomach. Would that ever stop? Perhaps after years passed and he was an old man unable to remember much of the details of his past. Clearing his throat, Rodolphus tried to calm his racing heart. Knowing that could very well be his last interaction with Hermione, he wanted to make sure he didn't completely embarrass himself. After all, he struggled to think clearly when she was near. If he'd been smart, he would've left the country weeks earlier. But, even just the chance to see her again kept him from leaving more than once already.

An awkward silence fell between them. Which of them was more nervous would've been an interesting question to decipher. He didn't know what to say. Or, rather, he didn't know what was appropriate to say. There was a great deal he wanted to tell her, but none of it was right to utter in that moment. Falling to his knees and begging the young woman with her entire life ahead of her to shackle herself to a dangerous fugitive like him would do her no favors. So, he searched his brain for a topic that was safe.

"Are you leaving today?"

He could've cursed himself for jumping straight to the topic he didn't want to consider. Weeks earlier when they were still on friendly terms, she told him that she would only be there for six weeks. Despite knowing it was foolish and perhaps a bit creepy to do so, he kept track of how many days he could expect to have her living next door. All week as he tried and failed to think of a good reason to cross the short distance between their two cottages, he'd been painfully aware that the clock was ticking on her remaining time.

"Yes, I'm expected back at the Ministry in the morning, but there are a few things I need to do first."

It took a great deal of effort and self-control for him to not ask what she was referring to. He knew that eventually she would have to face her husband again. Remembering the last time they were in the same place made him wish he'd bitten the cretin a little harder. He hadn't even drawn any blood that day. Next time he wouldn't show any mercy.

But, he had to remind himself that he had no claim on the young woman. What she chose to do with the rest of her life was none of his business. No matter how much it pained him, their brief window of time together had come and gone.

"Will you be staying here?"

Her question surprised him. Why would she care what his future plans were? He hadn't made up his mind yet completely. As dangerous as it was to remain, he didn't have the first clue where he would go if he left. For several years he'd been able to make his rented cottage a refuge from the rest of the world. If Hermione never showed up, he had no doubt that he would keep living there until there was a reason to flee. No one ever bothered him. But, having someone out there who knew his true identity put him at a risk that he just couldn't ignore.

"I haven't decided yet."

She dropped her eyes from his to stare somewhere off in the distance. He would've given every last knut in his vault to know what she was thinking in that moment. Whatever she desired, he would give it. Long, silent moments passed before she turned her head to meet his gaze once again.

"I would never tell anyone you were there, Rod. I wouldn't even tell anyone that I knew you were still alive."

There was no reason to doubt her sincerity. He believed she was telling the truth. Why she would continue to protect him after he'd proven himself to be so untrustworthy was beyond his understanding. Not once had he shown her anything redeemable or worth protecting. Some things he was sure he wasn't meant to understand.

"I've paid for the cottage through the end of the month. I have no plans to leave before then."

She granted him a small smile. His words appeased her for the moment.

"I should've come by sooner to apologize for the other morning."

Without thinking, Rodolphus' hand moved of its own accord to gently cup her cheek. Unable to look at him any longer, Hermione kept her eyes focused on the buttons on the front of his heavy coat. When she didn't flinch from his touch, he was emboldened to brush his thumb against her soft skin.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Hermione. I shouldn't have allowed that night to happen. I shouldn't have allowed either night to happen. You deserve better than someone like me."

Her watery eyes lifted again to meet his.

"But I…"

He moved his thumb over her lips, stopping her from saying something he knew she would come to regret. Unable to tear his eyes from her mouth, he didn't even try. Never would he allow her to take any blame for anything in those too-short weeks. He meant what he said when he took full responsibility. She had been vulnerable and he had taken advantage of that. Even if he didn't mean to, he had. His loneliness and selfishness overrode his good sense time and time again.

"You deserve nothing but joy, Hermione. I hope you find it one day with someone who is worthy."

Pressing his lips against her forehead and then walking away was by far the hardest moment of his life. Only a few steps away from the witch, he transformed into his animagus form for the first time in front of her. Needing to get away from her quickly before he made another foolish mistake, he lifted his massive paws in a sprint. His sensitive ears could still hear the sound of her soft crying long after he could no longer see her.