Broken
Chapter 5: Broken
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t care for the current arrangement he found himself in. While he didn’t want to roam the streets until morning, he did think he could find a reasonably nice muggle hotel for an accommodating price. Of course, it would help to know where he was. He hadn’t asked Harriet before she went to bed and he suspected if he tried to have a discussion with Kreacher, the spiteful elf would probably ignore him.
He had his wallet, so he wasn’t destitute, but he was leery about running into someone else that could recognize him. Not many people knew what Lord Voldemort had truly looked like. However, he would prefer to err on the side of caution, especially now that he had Harriet to think of.
He still didn’t know why Harriet wanted him to stay. He understood that she needed rest. However, he would have thought having Lord Voldemort in her living room would be more uncomfortable than having him stay someplace else. Apparently, for Harriet, that was not the case. Surprisingly, he was finding it hard to say no to her.
Still, he didn’t care for being alone in a strange place with a temperamental house elf. After supper, Harriet had excused herself to rest. Leaving him with Kreacher, who kept glaring at him from the kitchen. Rumple could practically hear the house elf’s teeth grinding together.
Rumple did not like being stared at. Years of ridicule by his fellow villagers had made him self-conscious. Hundreds of years of looking like a deranged hobgoblin had made him even more sensitive. Having enough, Rumple returned Kreacher’s glare and snarled, “Go to sleep you idiot. You can’t protect your mistress, sleep deprived.”
Kreacher glowered and sniffed once in disapproval. He then turned and went into his room. Sighing in relief, Rumple looked at his surroundings. Harriet’s home was rather sparse and small. He couldn’t fathom why Harriet lived in such a place. Everybody had known the Potters had money. Maybe it was a preference?
He had always disliked small spaces. The home he had with Milah had never been large enough and he had wanted something better for them. With his spinning skills, they could have made it out of their small village. Then the first Ogre War had broken out and he had felt called to defend their home. When he had been sent back, all he could afford was a hovel. It took a mixture of storytelling, babysitting, forging, and farming to keep them fed and a roof over their heads.
While it had been true that people would leave their children with him out of desperation. Nobody had seemed desperate enough to buy his thread. He had always suspected it was spite that kept people from it. Nobody wanted to see the town coward rise, while everyone else’s fortunes plummeted.
Once he had become the Dark One, his homes had progressively become larger until he had acquired his castle. After that, he felt he could finally breathe. While being alone in a large castle had its own disadvantages, he never again felt claustrophobic.
Frowning, Rumple was about to sit on the couch to rest when the voices started. They were the merest whispers, not the screaming shouts they had been before Zelena’s death. Yet they still unnerved him. Groaning, Rumple went to the bathroom and looked at his reflection. Despite his magical refresher at Robin’s, he looked like hell.
That would not do.
Hoping that Harriet wouldn’t mind if he took a shower, Rumple turned the faucet on, making it as hot as he could stand. He took his clothes and shoes off and carefully climbed into the shower. He let the water cascade down his body and his mind wandered. He leaned forward, using the shower walls to brace himself and allowed the tears to flow.
Today was too much. Between killing Zelena and finally avenging Bae to meeting Harriet, it had all felt like a bad nightmare. Now, alone in the bathroom, everything finally seemed real. Between Severus and Kreacher’s reactions, and seeing the Dark Mark again, there could be no doubt of who he was.
Not that he had much hope before.
Tears slipped down his face, mingling with the water. He tried to cry quietly. Not wanting to disturb Harriet.
After his banishment and the return of his original memories he had been lost in a maelstrom of grief, guilt and self-hatred. He hadn’t had time to really evaluate everything that happened in Storybooke. Now that he was finally able to think. He understood a few things.
One: Belle never loved him. She loved the idea of him.
Two: Henry didn’t like him.
Three: Hook was still a selfish villain, and he would hurt Emma and Henry.
Four: He would never be severed from the dagger.
And finally: His son was never coming back.
Huge sobs racked his body. He tried to be quiet but was unsuccessful. He sank to his hands and knees. Reducing himself to cowering in a shower, sobbing like his life was over.
Of course, it kind of was.
Now, he had another Savior to look after. A young woman that he had wronged so thoroughly, nothing he could do would ever make up for it. He was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life. He wanted to help her, but would she even allow it? How could she stand to be near him? He sobbed harder, his body sore from the strength of his guilt and grief.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and he heard it slowly open.
“Are you okay in there?” Harriet’s voice was gentle, and kind and it made him cry even harder. She had no reason to be kind to him, except that she had a kind heart. He had tried to destroy everything that made Harriet herself, and yet, here she was checking on him.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” Harriet asked as she opened the door wider and hesitantly walked in. The heat in the room steamed her glasses and she was forced to take them off.
“Damn,” He heard her mutter as she opened the door, “How are you not scalded?”
Rumple forced himself to stop crying, sniffing as he kneeled in the shower. He replied, his throat raw from sobbing, “I’m invincible. I hardly feel it.”
“Don’t lie,” Harriet muttered, “You still feel. I have the nightmares to prove it.”
Rumple said nothing to that. What could he say? That her nightmares were just another thing he was sorry for? She wouldn’t believe him.
“Are you upset that I decided to shower?” Rumple finally asked, leaning his forehead against the shower door. His voice was small and tired.
“Of course not,” Harriet replied. Rumple could hear her glasses squeak as she cleaned them, “You are welcome to it. I’ll bring you some clothes.”
Rumple grunted in response. Sniffing again, he decided to pull himself together and finish his shower before the water turned cold. Standing, he grabbed the soap and realized he forgot a washcloth. Shrugging, he began using his hands instead. Then he used Harriet’s shampoo. Soon Harriet was back laying something on the toilet seat.
“I resized some of my old pajamas,” Harriet replied in a small voice, “Don’t worry, they came from the men’s section to begin with.” He heard a door open and close, and he assumed she had left. He began opening the shower door when he heard a meep and a, “I’m still in here!’
Rumple didn’t close the door, but poked his head out instead., “May I ask why dearie?”
Harriet was standing there in a knee length, long sleeved, faded, flannel nightgown. Her hair had a frizzy and rumpled appearance, but he could tell it fell well past her shoulder blades. While the clothing she had worn earlier had been two sizes too large for her, the nightgown was perfectly sized and seemed to enhance her fragile and fey appearance. Her feet were bare despite the chill in the apartment, and he could see bruises on legs. He supposed they were from lack of care on her part. She bit her bottom lip and glanced shyly in his direction, scuffing her feet across the floor. She had a red fluffy towel in her hands.
Rumpelstiltskin was floored by how exquisite she was.
“I was getting you a towel.” Harriet said, blushing. He noticed that her cheeks and chest flushed when she was embarrassed. He found that absolutely endearing.
“I’m going to be ill,” The Darkness hissed. Rumple just ignored it, determined to act as if the Darkness didn’t exist.
“Well then,” Rumple replied dry mouthed. Without taking his eyes off Harriet he turned off the water and reached out his arm, “Please hand it over.”
Their eyes locked and Harriet became even more nervous. She inched forward a little and placed the towel in his out-stretched hand. However, before he could even bring the towel into the shower, she fled. The door slammed behind her.
“Well, aren’t you jumpy,” Rumple muttered as he dried himself and carefully stepped out of the shower. Tiredly, he grabbed the pajamas. He could feel his leg throb as he pulled on the pants and winced as his foot touched the floor. He wasn’t sure why his magic stopped taking the pain away. He must have something to do with his exhaustion. He was an immortal Beast, and yet lately he felt fatigued and ill.
He assumed it was from trying to kill himself so often.
Looking in the mirror, he used his fingers to comb his hair and clean his teeth. His foot, while hurting, didn’t stop him from walking normally. The pajamas fit nicely, and he finally felt clean despite his exhaustion. The exhaustion, he assumed, was what caused those strange thoughts about Harriet.
“Keep telling yourself that,” The Darkness hissed. Exiting the bathroom, his hands full of his wet towel, Rumple noticed Harriet was waiting for him in the living room. She was holding a blanket in her arms.
“I thought maybe you wanted to lie down,” Harriet said, not looking at him, using her hair to hide her face, “I know you said you didn’t sleep but….” She bit her lip and then looked at him through her hair, “You do want to lie down?”
“No,” Rumple replied, “I was going to conjure my spinning wheel.”
“Spinning wheel?” Harriet asked, placing the folded blanket on the couch.
“Where do I put this?” Rumple asked motioning to his towel, ignoring her question, and not looking at her directly. Did this woman not own a robe?
Harriet stepped toward him and took the towel, carefully not touching him, “I’ll put this in the hamper. I’ll leave the blanket out just in case you need it. Goodnight.”
She scurried into the bathroom, came back out, waved to him goodnight, and then fled to her bedroom. He watched her shut the door and listened as she slipped into her bed. He could hear the box springs squeak as she tried to get comfortable. Rumplestilskin couldn’t help but wonder, once again, why she lived in such a small place. You could hear everything.
Exhausted, he moved his hand in a specific flourish and a spinning wheel materialized before him. Sitting down, he began to spin. Hoping that if he emptied his mind he wouldn’t have to think. He was tired of his circular thoughts, and he needed a break from the voices.
Harriet’s heart was beating fast as she huddled under her covers, wrapping them tightly around herself in an attempt to feel held. She honestly didn’t know what had possessed her to enter the bathroom. She had been trying to sleep when she had begun shaking. It had pulled her from her drowsing and she became aware of her need to relieve herself. Tiredly, she had made her way to the bathroom only to hear the water running. She had been about to turn around, when she heard heart rending sobs. Before she knew it, she had opened the door.
Her enemy had been crying like his life was over, and she had been worried.
What was wrong with her? Harriet rolled over and tried to empty her mind to sleep. He was Lord Voldemort, no matter that he was obviously different. He had killed her family, which forced her to live with the Dursleys. He had dogged her steps throughout Hogwarts and was the subject of her nightmares. He was, by his own admittance, a Beast. Yet her tender heart had prevailed, and she entered the bathroom and tried to make him comfortable.
“Maybe Hermione is right,” Harriet thought to herself, “Maybe I do have a saving people thing.”
All had been fine at first. She had a task and it didn’t occur to her that maybe she should feel awkward about conversing with a naked man taking a shower. Between Hogwarts and the Ministry, semi-communal showers were not unfamiliar to her. However, when Rumpelstiltskin had almost exited the shower, she panicked.
Harriet had seen naked men before. Apprehending dark wizards in compromising situations always seemed to be the easiest and safest option. Yet, this was different. Rumpelstiltskin was a man who was staying in her apartment. He had tried to kill her often, with varying degrees of success, and he was her worst enemy. The prospect of seeing him naked had terrified her
He also happened to be rather attractive. The “meep” that had come out of her mouth had been unbidden. Thankfully, he had kept everything hidden in the shower, except his head. He had been dripping wet, with that scrubbed look you get after a rather hot shower, and his hair had been matted to his face. He looked tired. She had found herself disconcerted with how normal he looked.
He was certainly not a normal man.
Then he reached for the towel. She had noticed how well muscled his arm was despite how thin it appeared. He had light scars that wrapped around his wrist and his skin was pale and lightly freckled. His fingers were long, and his palm looked soft to the touch. She had the most ridiculous urge to trace his lifelines. Becoming overwhelmed, she shoved the towel at him and ran.
Like a damn flake.
She really was a stupid, silly woman. Not only was she a drunk with a bad temper, but she was a virgin. She had never been drunk enough to feel comfortable allowing strangers to touch her and she was never sober enough to build a trusting relationship. For her, there had only been Remus, but her affections were never returned.
Now, here she was having a schoolgirl panic at the prospect of seeing the Dark Lord’s naked arm. She was far too old for that. Was she a Gryffindor or not? Rolling her eyes, she flopped onto her stomach determined to finally fall asleep. She had almost achieved her coveted goal when she heard a weird clanking sound come from the living room and went to investigate.
Cracking the door, she found herself staring at Rumpelstiltskin. He was sitting at a spinning wheel with a faraway look on his face. His bare feet were planted firmly on the carpet. One hand was gently spinning the wheel while the other was guiding what looked like straw. As she watched, it turned to gold, startling Harriet.
That explained his name. It did not, however, explain where he had learned to spin straw into gold. There were many things about the risen Dark Lord that she had no explanation for. She supposed three hundred years of life would give someone abilities past the knowledge of others, but it was still jarring to see how different he was. She watched his hands move, gentle yet confident in their task, and she found herself blushing once again.
What was her fascination with his hands?
Her hands began to shake again. Closing the door she went back to bed, suddenly very tired, and pulled the covers up over her head. She was over the entire day. She had her worst enemy in her apartment, a random spinning wheel in her living room, an extremely unhappy house elf, and she was craving a drink.
Shaking from exhaustion and withdrawal, she curled up in a ball and allowed the sound of the spinning wheel to lull her to sleep.
For once she was at peace.
As soon as the clock changed to 7:00 a.m., Rumpelstiltskin had quickly changed from Harriet’s pajamas to his usual charcoal suit. He wanted to make sure that he could slip out before Harriet or Kreacher saw him, but still be able to utilize the shops.
He walked out of the apartment only to be met with a well lightened foyer. Looking around, he found the walls were red brick and the door was a startling shade of yellow. Directly across the foyer, he noticed another door that he assumed led to another apartment. A young boy was leaning against the brick walls, arms crossed, and he looked ready to munity. What startled Rumple about the boy was how white and spiky his hair was.
Upon seeing him, the boy straightened and took a step in Rumple’s direction, “Who are you? And why are you at Auntie's apartment?” the boy abruptly asked. Rumple guessed he was no more than twelve.
“Call me Mr. Gold,” Rumple replied with a smile. No matter how stressed or depressed he was, he always had a special place in his heart for children. He had always assumed it was because of his love for Bae. That every child he saved from selfish parents was a tribute to his boy. However, now he wondered if on some level, he was trying to make up for what he had done to Harriet. That by saving children he could erase his past, “I’m a friend of hers.”
Suddenly, the door opened, and he came face to face with Remus Lupin.
Fuck.
While it was true that Rumple couldn’t remember much about the werewolf from before, he did remember that Remus had looked tired and careworn. Most werewolves that fought against their wolf’s nature typically did. However, now Remus seemed more comfortable with himself. More confident. Rumple supposed it was having a child to care for. Parenthood seemed to make some people blossom. As Lord Voldemort, he had written Remus off as a non-threat. Now, he could clearly see that had been folly. There was something about the werewolf that put him on edge.
“Who are you?” Remus growled when his eyes rested on Rumple. He watched as Remus made a motion for his son to stay back. Rumple tried to look like a non-threatening muggle, and he found himself absurdly glad that the werewolf couldn’t recognize him.
“He came out of Auntie's apartment,” the boy said quickly with a frown and a sly glance at his father. Remus’ eyes narrowed and he took a step in Rumple’s direction. He seemed angry, although Rumple could find no reason behind it. He heard a low growl come from the werewolf and Rumple found himself startled. What was the wolf’s problem?
“I’m a friend of Ms. Potter,” Rumple replied, keeping his cool. He could feel his anger rise inside of him but was determined to keep it in check. There was no reason to upset Harriet by assaulting her neighbor. Using his most disarming smile he said, “I met Mrs. Potter at a local watering hole I frequent.”
Remus stopped short. There was something like pain that passed through his eyes and then he snorted. Rumple watched as the werewolf placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and guided him to the foyer’s door. Snidely Remus said, “Of course you did. I wondered when she would start bringing “friends” home.” He looked Rumple up and down, “Although, I thought they would be younger.”
Rumple bristled at that. What in the hell was the wolf’s problem? Remus Lupin had been one of James Potter’s friends. He had been close to Harriet all through the war and one of her most trusted companions. Yet he was insulting her? How dare he?
And what did he mean by his age? Rumple had stopped aging at forty. Due to a hard life, he knew he looked a little older. However, it wasn’t like he was decrepit looking!
“I’m not sure what you are implying,” Rumple snapped, annoyed and infuriated by Remus’ innuendo.
“You know exactly what I’m saying,” Remus growled. Glaring at the door behind Rumple, “Harriet’s troubled.”
“I found her quite charming,” Rumple growled back, “And kind and sweet. I was rather a mess last night and she was kind enough to help a drunk man. Didn’t know where I lived, so she brought me here.”
It wasn’t an entire lie either. She had been kind and sweet.
Rumple had also found her a bit bewitching too, but the wolf didn’t need to know that.
Remus didn’t say anything. He just sniffed, trying to decide if Rumple was lying or not and then gently pushed his son out the door. Making a noise in the back of his throat, Rumple was about to follow the wolf and continue giving him a piece of his mind, when he heard, “Thanks for defending me.”
He stopped abruptly and turned, surprised that Harriet was awake. She was standing in her doorway wearing only her nightgown and shaking. He was sorry they had been loud enough to wake her.
“Are you cold?” Rumple asked, immediately pulling his suit jacket off and wrapping it around her. She stiffened, but Rumple made sure that it was secure before he stepped back. He found her clasping the jacket in a tight grip.
“It’s not the cold shakes,” Harriet replied, licking her lips, wincing.
“Ah,” Rumple said, lost for words. She was struggling far more than he had realized. He looked at her standing there, hunched in on herself, and found himself saying, “Why don’t you take a hot shower. I’ll be back soon with coffee for us.”
“Do you even have muggle money?” Harriet asked dully and with a sniff. He could see the tears in her eyes and felt the urge to strangle the idiot werewolf.
“Credit cards are universal dearie,” Rumple replied with a soft smile and Harriet’s eyes widened in surprise. He couldn’t help but feel for the woman before him. She seemed so lost. It brought out a softness in him that he had long forgotten was there.
Harriet only nodded, so Rumple continued, “I’ll be back soon”
Harriet watched him leave, holding his suit jacket in one hand and the door in the other. She was gripping them both like her life depended on it and she found herself wondering if he would really come back.
Closing the door, Harriet walked toward Rumple’s spinning wheel and sat down. She found herself brushing her fingers lightly across the gold thread. Harriet had no idea why he had left the spinning wheel sitting out, but she was glad he had. Glad that she was reminded of how serene he looked, of how quiet he was when he spun. It helped her to remember he was different now.
If he left his spinning wheel, did that mean he would come back?
Rumpelstiltskin was extremely dangerous. He was more powerful now, then he had ever been as Lord Voldemort. Simple passes of his hand or whispered words were enough to bring magic springing forth. It worried her; just how powerful he was. She was afraid he might be even more powerful than Albus Dumbledore.
He was obviously brutal and confident in his powers. He knew he could get what he wanted, just by taking. When she had asked him to Obliviate Severus, there had been no hesitation. He did what he had to do and moved on. Yet, he allowed Harriet to see him upset and self-conscious. When she had a panic attack, he was gentle and kind. When she had been uncertain, he had wiped her tears. There was a gentleness to him. A kindness that wasn’t there previously. There was something about his dual nature that Harriet found compelling.
Rumple also seemed to be taking a particular interest in her well-being. At great personal risk to himself, he had come from New York to check on her. He also stayed the night with minimal fuss. In truth, she should have been terrified that Lord Voldemort was staying in her living room. Yet, despite everything that had passed between them, she was not afraid. Fear was replaced by curiosity.
Sighing at her confusing circular thoughts, she placed Rumple’s coat gently on the spinning wheel and decided to get ready for the day. Rumple was right, she needed a shower.
Rumpelstiltskin sniffed. He was in bloody London.
He had suspected it, but he hadn’t wanted it to be true. He had never liked London. It reminded him of the orphanage he was raised in and he never felt particularly comfortable in highly populated areas. He still didn’t. Unknown dangers and surprises around every corner unnerved him. He felt much more comfortable in isolated areas.
Like a huge castle in the middle of the Enchanted Forest.
Glaring at his surroundings, Rumple quickly ducked into a convenience store and bought a temporary phone. If he wasn’t going to die, then he needed to check on his grandson and wife. Belle was probably still self -righteously angry and Henry had always had an “out of sight, out of mind” kind of relationship with him. Rumple assumed he would be fine. Annoyed, he rolled up his shirt sleeves while the cashier waited on him. He felt naked without his jacket.
On the walk back, he noticed a small coffee shop and stopped. It occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask what Harriet preferred. There was no other option but to order what he liked and hoped she liked it too. He even bought some blueberry muffins.
By the time he made it back to her apartment he realized that she lived in the Black family’s old residence. At some point it had been converted into an apartment building, but he couldn’t understand why. It had been a large home. There would have been no need to change it to accommodate three people. It could have easily housed twice that.
Trouble in paradise?
From Remus’ behavior earlier, he knew something had happened between Harriet and the werewolf. Although, he couldn’t imagine what. Harriet seemed like a perfectly lovely woman, but then so did Milah. Headstrong Milah who was violent and quick tempered when drunk. It had been no home for Bae to grow up in and he could not fault Remus protecting his son.
Still, Milah was no Harriet. She had not been a hero, just a bitter woman in search of something more. Harriet had trauma and pain. She had been forced to fight in a war far too young. It did not sit well with Rumpelstiltskin how cast aside Harriet seemed. How forgotten. She had fought incredibly hard for the Wizarding World. It was ungrateful.
Besides, she had been so kind to him last night. That kindness had touched him deeply. He couldn’t imagine her being unkind to others. All last night, despite himself, he kept thinking about her. Her kindness, her beauty, her strength. If he was from a land of fairy tales and stories, would Harriet not be a part of them as well? Were they not connected?
He had lived long enough to be many things to many people. He was the crocodile and a lost boy from Peter Pan, the fairy Godmother from Cinderella, the dark Imp from Rumpelstiltskin, the Mephistopheles of untold stories, and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast.
Who would Harriet be in those stories?
They had their own story together. One where she was the shining hero, and he was the evil villain. A story not recorded in the Once Upon a Time book. However, if she was from the Enchanted Forest, like everyone else, what story would it have been?
The only one she seemed to fit best, was Beauty and the Beast.
Not the Disney version that seemed to have taken inspiration from the relationship he had with his wife, but the first version of the story to appear in this world. The one where the heroine was simply named Beauty. Beauty who was sweet and kind with a family that had treated her unkindly. A Beauty who had been forced through fate and a cowardly father to save her whole family.
In Harriet’s case, it was the whole wizarding world instead of a family. Albus Dumbledore had been the man to betray her to the Beast, not a father. Of course, Harriet didn’t tame the Beast by finding his goodness and falling in love with him. There had been no goodness inside of him then. She had just been a child and he had been a monster, but she had saved the wizarding world all the same. There were enough similarities for it to fit.
All of the fairy tales of this world were always different from their inspirations.
It was fanciful and stupid. Yet, his mind had mulled it over all night as he spun his straw into gold. There was something about Harriet that had Rumpelstiltskin entranced. Was it out of respect? Admiration? He wasn’t sure, but it unnerved him.
Looking at Grummulad Place, he huffed. The building had always been an eye sore, and he hated the idea of perfectly sweet Harriet living in the monstrosity. She didn’t fit. He closed his eyes and found himself thinking of a sweet little cottage, in the middle of the woods. Harriet running barefoot through the underbrush. He could imagine her laughing and carefree while he hovered in the shadows. Coming to visit her from the large looming castle in the background. She would fit well in the Enchanted Forest. She would probably be so much happier there.
Rumple had only been in Harriet’s life for a day, and everything seemed so complicated.
Opening his eyes, he forced himself to focus on his task. He walked into the foyer and then toward her apartment. He found it unlocked and he walked in. Harriet was sitting in the living room, curled up with a book. Her long black hair was tied in a tight bun. She wore a long black peasant skirt with a deep red, high-necked, long-sleeved blouse. She was turning the page, her hands shaking, when he walked in. Her black cat eyeglasses were perched on her nose, and she was scrunching her face in concentration.
She looked so lovely it hurt.
Rumple hated to admit it, but he found her genuinely beautiful. It was a wild beauty, so different from the other women in his life. While Milah, Cora, and Belle had wanted adventure or power, none of them had the wildness that Harriet had. Last night, it struck him how fey-like she seemed. Now, he realized that she was as much a wild thing as he was. He felt his heart twist and tug in his chest. Almost like it was reaching for Harriet. He had no idea what it meant.
Rumple had no idea what was wrong with him. Ever since his memories came back, he felt off kilter. More vulnerable and unlike himself. Lonelier than he had ever been before. He felt like he was sinking in quicksand. It worried him that maybe this time, he was too broken. Maybe that was why he often found his thoughts on Harriet. She was just as broken as he was.
He didn’t want to dwell on it. He had coffee and muffins and Harriet’s company for the day. Hopefully, it would be enough to help him forget about his failed marriage and inattentive grandson and an ungrateful town filled with people that hated him. At least for a little while.
Harriet looked up and smiled kindly at him, “You forgot your suit jacket.”
“I didn’t forget dearie,” Rumple replied with a grin as he sat down next to her, “You seemed to need it more than I.”
“Thank you,” Harriet said, “The coffee smells great!”
“I hope you like it,” Rumple pulled a blueberry muffin from the bag, “And I hope you enjoy this as well.”
Harriet took a sip and found the coffee delicious. Sweet with cream and chocolate just the way she liked it.
“Yum,” Harriet hummed happily. She grinned upon seeing the muffin, “Blueberry is my favorite.”
Rumpelstiltskin cocked his eyebrow at her, “Well, it’s lucky we have the same tastes then.”
Harriet watched as he took the second muffin from the bag and bit into it with relish. Harriet giggled slightly and Rumple smirked at her. He watched as she devoured her muffin and sipped her coffee slowly, clearly enjoying it. He felt a small, genuine smile spread across his face.
She was most certainly a welcome distraction.
Harriet was having a wonderful time. She had delicious coffee, a warm muffin, and the company of a surprisingly charming man. His mischievous smirks were enough to send her into fits of giggles and his ability to weave a story was unparalleled. Sipping her coffee, she attentively listened as he told various stories from his time in the Enchanted Forest.
“You really tricked a dwarf into giving you fairy dust?” Harriet asked as he took a sip of coffee and playfully continued, “Or did you just kill him?”
Rumpelstiltskin gasped and put his hand over his heart, “What faith you have.”
Harriet found herself giving him an “I’m onto you” look. Rumple laughed, delighted in Harriet’s playful nature.
“I didn’t,” Rumple insisted, but then in an offhand manner, “Although, I did kill a fairy for her wand once.”
Harriet stilled. Her face became devoid of all expression. She just looked at him. However, Rumple was unrepentant.
“Don’t feel sorry for them Harriet,” Rumple replied, trying to get her to look at him, “Whenever there’s injustice in the world, there’s always a fairy. Trust me.”
Harriet’s lips pursed together, but then the tension left her body and she looked at the floor, “I suppose you have quite a few stories with murder in them.”
“I do,” Rumpelstiltskin replied with a twisted sparkle in his eye. He found himself smirking, “And not all of them are my fault.”
She looked at him then. The charming man was gone in an instant, replaced by the dark wizard he still was. A man willing to do anything to get what he wanted. A real-life Beast. She had only been joking when she had asked if he killed the dwarf; forgetting for a moment that he was an actual murderer.
“What are you thinking?” Rumple asked, scooting closer to her on the couch. He was giving her a searching look, like he really cared about her opinion. It was unnerving.
Harriet said nothing for a moment, just watched his curious face try and read her. She was finding that there was a stillness about Rumpelstiltskin when he was trying to understand something. It contrasted with Lord Voldemort, who was never calm. He was constantly agitated and never able to remain still. It left victims and followers alike uncomfortable and afraid.
“It will take some getting used to,” Harriet answered evenly, finally finding the words for what she wanted to say, “Your ever-changing moods.”
“Ever-changing?” Rumple echoed. He looked confused and Harriet almost laughed. How could he not realize just how erratic he could be? Harriet elaborated, “One minute we are laughing and joking and the next you are telling me stories of murder.”
She reached out hesitantly and placed her hand on top of his, “I know it has always been a reality for you, murdering, but it’s not something I’m used to discussing. It’s jarring when you bring it up in a conversation.”
“I’ll try and remember that,” Rumple replied quietly, looking at their joined hands.
“I’m not asking you to lie,” Harriet replied with conviction, “If we are to work together, then I must insist you tell me the truth. Always.”
“Even if it makes you uncomfortable?” Rumpelstiltskin asked in a whisper. He was looking at her again, searching for lies or half-truths. Harriet looked at him defiantly. Daring him to accuse her of lying.
“Especially if it makes me uncomfortable,” Harriet replied with such conviction that Rumpelstiltskin realized that maybe there was more to her then he had supposed. He kept underestimating her.
“Then I must ask for your truthfulness in return,” Rumpelstiltskin said, clearing his throat, “Even if you find it embarrassing.”
Harriet looked at him, bit her lip, and nodded. She took her hand from his and sat straight, “That seems fair.”
“It does, doesn’t?” Rumpelstiltskin commented. Clearing their wrappers and cups, Rumpelstiltskin began searching for the trashcan in the kitchenette. Upon seeing it by Kreacher’s door, he made his way over. Dropping the trash in the can, he happened to glance over at Kreacher. The old elf looked glum.
Going back into the living room he said, “You house-elf looks sad.”
“He doesn’t like you,” Harriet replied standing. Looking into the mirror by the entrance she fixed her hair. She slipped on a pair of black ballerina flats and asked, “You ready?”
“And where are we going?” Rumpelstiltskin took his suit jacket from the spinning wheel and buttoned it up. He then stood behind her, using the mirror to fix his tie. Their eyes locked and Harriet blushed, realizing she had been caught staring.
“Like something you see dearie?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, his voice unexpectedly flirty. Harriet was startled for a moment until she realized he was trying to hide his discomfort.
Turning around she smiled shyly and said, “Just trying to figure you out.”
“Better people than you have tried,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered, but Harriet just ignored him.
“We will be back around six Kreacher!” Harriet hollered, “Please have supper ready by then!”
She then opened the door and motioned for Rumple to take the lead. She put a little flair into her movements, trying to bring back the levity her staring had chased away. She saw Rumple smirk as he walked past her, and her heart began to race. Her face flushed slightly.
What was happening to her?