The Woods
Harriet woke suddenly, trying to remember the strange dream she had. She knew it involved Rumple, but she could not recall anything else about it. Sitting up, she yawned and then stopped. She could hear Kreacher and Rumple’s voice coming from the kitchen, one amused the other annoyed. She could smell bacon and eggs and hear the sizzling of the pan. Stretching Harriet stood and pulled on her robe and slippers, feeling well rested for the first time in ages
Walking into the living room, Harriet could immediately tell her living room was different, despite how groggy she was. Rumple’s spinning wheel was no longer in the middle of the room but in the corner closest to her bedroom. Her couch had been moved from the wall closest to her room to the far wall. Her two end tables were resized to better fit neatly at either end of the couch. She now had a small coffee table in the living room, a red throw blanket over her couch, and a plant in the space between her room and the bathroom. She was surprised at the changes in her living space but chose not to complain. They made the space feel more lived in and homey. Something the room had sorely lacked.
Surveying the room, Harriet noticed that Rumple didn’t have many personal items. His phone was neatly placed on the coffee table and his suit jacket hung by her purse next to the front door. With his ability to conjure whatever he needed; Rumple didn’t keep many personal items in her apartment. His precarious position in England contributed to his lack of permanency.
There was a small part of her that knew she should feel more disturbed by how comfortable the dark wizard was in her home. The part of herself that was a Gryffindor knew she should be angry by her whole situation. Yet, she wasn’t. Instead looking around, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
She wasn’t alone.
“Good morning, dearie” Rumple called, turning and pointing a spatula at her, “I’m making breakfast.”
“What time is it?” Harriet asked, feeling her mouth dry at Rumpelstiltskin’s altered appearance. Instead of his usual suit, he wore a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. The top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned revealing a long silver chain with his wedding ring hanging from it. Swallowing, she sat down and tried to ignore how his appearance made her feel. The tight blue jeans and the casual hiking boots weren’t helping her to focus either. Despite how attractive he looked; it was a bit jarring to see him dressed down. Even in her nightmares Rumple had still worn a suit. A torn and damaged suit, but a suit, nonetheless. Shaking her head to focus, she looked at the kitchenette clock and gasped.
It was almost 9 o’clock in the morning!
“I slept that long?” Harriet asked, looking at Rumple in surprise.
“I tried to make my mind as quiet as possible,” Rumple offered with a smile, “I’m glad my efforts paid off.” He frowned when he noticed Kreacher was pouring Harriet a cup of coffee, “I have tried to make peace with Kreacher by cooking everyone breakfast. Kreacher doesn’t seem to care for it.”
Harriet chuckled and whispered a thank you to the house elf, “The kitchenette is Kreacher’s domain, Rum.”
“Apparently,” Rumple replied as he placed a generous portion of bacon and eggs on a plate. He handed it to Kreacher to sit on the table for Harriet, “I offered for him to eat with us and he acted like it was a death sentence.”
“Kreacher is very traditional,” Harriet replied with a smile at her house elf, “No matter how much I ask, he always eats in his room.”
“Tis what is appropriate, Mistress,” Kreacher replied, accepting his own food.
“I know Kreacher,” Harriet said as Rumple sat across from her, “But I still want you to feel like family.”
“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher replied bowing respectfully, without spilling a bit of food. He then literally disappeared into his room.
Harriet shook her head with a small smile and picked up her fork, “There is no changing him.”
Rumple watched Harriet dive into her breakfast. Neither had really eaten yesterday and he knew she must be starved. Looking at his meal, Rumple took his time, content to watch Harriet. Last night while spinning, he decided to take a more proactive approach to assist in her recovery. They needed some time to breathe. Both were overwhelmed, neither really knew the other, and they were bone weary and sick. While Rumple was quickly gaining weight and recovering his strength, he knew Harriet would need some extra time. Neither could be successful while they were both out of sorts.
“Neither could live while the other survives,” He thought to himself. He was beginning to wonder if they had misinterpreted the prophecy. They were so deeply entwined with each other that they literally could not live while the other was only surviving. For them to thrive, they would have to work together.
Harriet finished with her eggs and started to eat her bacon. Looking up, she found Rumpelstiltskin watching her, smiling fondly. Realizing he had been discovered, he went back to his food.
What was he thinking of, when he looked at her like that?
There was enough evidence to suppose that he felt some fondness for her. That the growing companionable feelings she felt for him were being reciprocated. Despite how overwhelming yesterday had been, they had ended on good terms. She felt very comfortable with him.
That bothered her.
If it was just Rumpelstiltskin, a charming, slightly older man with a sketchy past befriending her, Harriet wouldn’t be so bothered. He was respectful of her, he could cook, he was attractive, and made her feel safe. However, he was also the most feared wizard of the past century. A dark entity that was bound to a magical dagger as a means of control. A monster that had killed his own wife.
And yet she felt safe with that part of him too.
The irony was not lost on Harriet.
“What do you have planned today?” Harriet asked as she finished her breakfast and wiped her mouth with a satisfied sigh. She was truly full for the first time in forever.
“We are going on a little daytrip,” Rumple replied, clearing off the table and taking their dishes to the sink. He was just starting the dish water when Kreacher bolted from his room and all but hurled Rumpelstiltskin from the kitchenette so he could clean up.
“Oh?” Harriet asked as she stood and followed Rumple into the living room, “Where might that be?’
Rumple smiled winningly and announced, “The Forbidden Forest.”
Harriet’s eyes widened, and she put her hands on her hips, “Come again?”
She hadn’t been in the Forbidden Forest since she was seventeen years old. It held many traumatic memories for her. She had been attacked there by a possessed Quirrell, the acromantula, the dementors, and Grawp. She had even died there. Since graduating Hogwarts, she had refused to go back.
“The Forbidden Forest,” Rumpelstiltskin repeated. Seeing Harriet’s darkened expression, he hurriedly explained, “Not by the school or Hogsmeade. On the other side, near the North Ford Bog. There is something there I want to show you.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes and tried to remember the North Ford Bog, but her mind was going startling blank. She wasn’t as familiar with the area around Hogwarts as she should have been. By the time she had finally defeated Lord Voldemort and had earned some peace, she just wanted to graduate Hogwarts quickly and get the hell out of there.
“What do you want to show me?” Harriet asked, wrinkling her nose.
“You will just have to see,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, grinning at her. Making a motion with his hands, he said, “Now go get ready. You’ll want to dress for hiking.”
Harriet just rolled her eyes but did as Rumpelstiltskin bid. Biting her lip, she quickly decided on blue jeans, her battered hiking boots, and a blank tank top. Grabbing her wand sheath with only mildly shaking hands, she adjusted it to her arm as she looked herself over in the mirror.
“God I’m ugly,” Harriet muttered, frowning. Despite having rested, her eyes were still bruised from lack of sleep. Her skin was ashy. Her hair was limp and dry. Her lips were cracked, and she looked like she had been starving herself.
Which she had.
The scars on her wrists were still raised and red. Harriet had been too drunk to heal herself properly and Kreacher wasn’t good at healing magic. The result had been raised, red, and ropy scars. She hated them. Just one more reminder of an event she would rather forget.
Still evaluating herself, she saw that her hips were jutting out more than normal and her jeans felt too loose. She was going to have to resize them quickly. Grabbing her wand, she finished fussing with her clothes and sighed in defeat. There wasn’t much else she could do. They would be hiking, so makeup would be inappropriate.
“This trip better be worth it Rumpelstiltskin,” Harriet muttered darkly to herself as she grabbed a black and white checkered button up and pulled it on. Pulling her hair from the collar and shoving it into a ponytail, she gave herself one last look.
Despite her best efforts, she looked like a walking corpse.
With Kreacher’s help, Rumpelstiltskin was putting the final touches to their lunch hamper when he felt his phone vibrate. Expecting it to be Henry, he felt his stomach drop when he looked at his phone. It was a new message from Belle.
“Rumple, where are you?”
Wincing, he stared at her words. A thousand thoughts rampaged through his mind before he decided what to send.
“Why do you care?” Rumple texted back. Realizing too late that he sounded juvenile and silly. More like a schoolboy and less like the imposing Dark One he was supposed to be. Rolling his eyes, he stood there and waited for her to text back.
Ding! “I haven’t heard from you since you left! Didn’t you get my last message?”
Frowning Rumple furiously texted back, “Banished you mean, I didn’t leave. I was banished. By you!”
Belle didn’t text back immediately. Which left them with enough time for Kreacher to finish the hamper and for Rumple to take the red blanket from the couch. He had everything gathered, when his phone vibrated again.
“I did what I had to do. Did you get my last text?”
Rumple thought of ignoring her but knew she would keep texting until he answered. He could place his phone on silent but he was afraid Henry would need him. Blocking Belle was an option but then he would never know what she really wanted from him.
Gritting his teeth he texted, “Do you really want a divorce?”
Quickly Belle texted back, “I don’t know, I’m confused.”
Rumple frowned. What did that mean? Was she confused about him? His love for her? Her own thoughts? What did she want?
Texting back, he asked, “What are you confused about?”
“Everything.” She replied and then the texting stopped.
Realizing that Belle didn’t seem to know what she wanted, Rumple put his phone away and pushed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. Trying to relieve a headache. He honestly didn’t know what to believe when it came to his wife. Before the first curse, she had never seemed so indecisive. She knew herself and her own mind. However, ever since Emma had broken the curse, she had seemed lost. She would never speak about her time in captivity and seemed to avoid all mention of it. It had only gotten worse after the Lacey incident.
They were supposed to be True Love, but there had always been a separation between them. Even after they had married, and Rumple had given her the dagger. He had thought it was his fault. That what Zelena had done had created a hole inside of him that could never be healed. Now, he wondered if some of it had been Belle’s own doing.
Hearing a noise, Rumple looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened. While Rumple had requested that Harriet wear something for hiking, he couldn’t have fathomed how attractive she would look. The black jeans she wore were well suited to her fragile frame and stuffed into her red hiking boots. Harriet was underweight, but the tank top she wore was tight fitting enough to show off what curves she did have to her advantage. The plaid button up she wore was far too big, but somehow Harriet pulled it off. She had buttoned it at the bottom and let it hang off one shoulder.
Harriet clearly looked tired and ill. Her skin was pasty, and her lips were chapped. Her eyes were too bright, almost feverish, and she was painfully thin. Yet somehow Rumpelstiltskin still found her attractive.
He should not be thinking of her like this. It was not appropriate. Not to mention unexpected. He was a married man and Harriet was his enemy. If he ever had a nemesis, she would have been it.
Or was that Killian?
Ignoring his tumbling thoughts, Rumpelstiltskin smiled. He supposed the slight attraction he felt for her was the vulnerability they were both experiencing. Together, they were dealing with a situation that was unprecedented in the history of magic.
Besides she was a woman, and he was a man. Of course, he was going to notice how lovely she was. End. Of. Story.
“Denial isn't just a river in Egypt,” The Darkness quipped.
“Are you ready to go?” Rumple asked, looking away from her and picking up the blanket and hamper.
“Somebody has a crush,” The Darkness singsonged, “What would your beloved Belle think?”
Again, he ignored the Darkness. Knowing that if he acknowledged it, he would only give it more power.
“Do you plan on making us wear glamours?” Harriet asked, frowning. Rumple was ushering her out of the apartment and Harriet was still at a loss for where they were going. It was making her nervous.
“Nope,” Rumpelstiltskin replied with a smile. Handing her the blanket and hamper he shut the door behind them, “As long as we avoid Albus and Severus, we should be fine.”
Harriet smiled back but found herself startled when he pulled her close. Her whole body started to tingle, and she felt her cheeks go red. She started to ask what he was doing, when she felt her stomach flip and drop at the same time. Her eyes widened.
She hated, side-along apparition.
Rumpelstiltskin was hovering over Harriet as she hurled her breakfast up in the bushes. He hadn’t meant to make her sick. Apparition was the only way to get where he wanted. It would take days on foot and neither one of them could have handled that. She was far too weak, and his leg was far too painful.
“You suck, Rumpelstiltskin,” Harriet growled, another wave of nausea hitting her, and he winced. He was trying to get her to gain weight, not lose it.
“I’m sorry dearie,” Rumple said looking around. Trying to gauge how far it was. They were standing at the very edge of the forest, right at the entrance to a long-forgotten path. The sun was high and bright in the sky and the birds chirped cheerfully.
However, there was a chill in the air, which always seemed to emanate from the Forbidden Forest. A thousand-years worth of magic coalescing in the same place was bound to leave its mark. The Enchanted Forest had been the same. He watched as Harriet stood, wiped her mouth with one of Kreacher’s handkerchiefs and strode towards him.
“Apparition is the devil,” Harriet groused.
“I had no idea it did that to you,” Rumple replied, motioning for her to follow him.
“It’s been years since I used apparition by myself, let alone with someone,” Harriet replied frowning, “I’m out of practice.”
Rumple nodded, and they lapsed into silence. A silence neither felt the need to fill. Both content to walk and view the forest. Harriet breathed in the natural musk of her surroundings and smiled. She had forgotten how much she used to enjoy the forest and hadn’t even realized she missed it until now. Absently, Harriet found herself softly humming. Rumple glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smothered the desire to hold her hand.
They had been walking for half an hour, when they came to the top of a rocky hill. There they found an old clearing where the Forbidden Forest and the North Ford Bog met. There was a small dilapidated cottage in the back of the clearing with a worn path that wound in-between the cottage and the hill they were standing on. Yellow and red wildflowers filled the clearing and Harriet could just barely see old foundations where houses used to be.
“What is this place?” Harriet asked, as they made their way toward the cottage.
“The site of a very old magical village,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. They picked their way carefully down the hill and Harriet found herself grinning as they walked side by side down the picturesque path. She felt happier now than she had in months.
“What happened to it?” Harriet asked, swinging her arms playfully. Rumple shifted the hamper and blanket in his arms and found himself reaching for Harriet’s hand. At the last second, he brushed her shoulder instead and said quietly, “Look off to the right.”
Harriet stopped and did as she was told. Standing in the clearing was a beautiful white stag, far larger than any Harriet had ever seen. It was at least seven feet tall at the shoulder, no less than one hundred and fifty feet long and couldn’t weigh less than six hundred pounds. The stag’s antlers were large and majestic, reaching at least five feet in length. It stared at them, as they stared at it.
“It’s beautiful,” Harriet whispered. The stag continued to stare, until it grew bored and bounded from the clearing.
“The fabled White Hart,” Rumpelstiltskin said, continuing their walk to the cottage, “Not many of their ilk were around when I was a young man. I’m glad to see they are still alive.”
“The Scamander family has been working tirelessly to try and keep magical animals from going extent,” Harriet replied, following Rumpelstiltskin, “Luna told me they had been working with the White Hart population, but I didn’t think they had released any into the Forbidden Forest.”
Rumple smiled at Harriet’s obvious excitement and picked up the pace toward the cottage.
“Why are we here?” Harriet asked. Up close, the cottage was even more run down. Whole sections of the walls and roof had fallen in. The steps had long since rotted away and the wildlife had tried to reclaim it. Honeysuckle vines had spread over the entirety of the structure, and there was a heaviness coming from the cottage. It felt like dread.
“I used to live here,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, frowning at how uneasy Harriet seemed. He could feel the darkness that emanated from the cottage and began to wonder if this outing had been a good idea.
Before either one of them could change their minds, Rumple had flicked his wrist and the air shimmered between them and the cottage. Frowning, Harriet took a step away from the barrier, but Rumple took Harriet’s hand and pulled her through despite her protests. On the other side, was the same cottage, but in a far better condition.
There was still some neglect. The walls and roof of the house looked weathered, and the steps were rickety. There was honeysuckle trailing off the roof, but Harriet could tell that at some point, it had been pruned back. It should have been picturesque. However, there was a darkness emanating from it like poison.
“What in the world?” Harriet asked, as Rumple took his hand from hers. She was too distracted to notice her hand tingling where they touched. Rumpelstiltskin, however, was not.
“It’s a magical habit with an atmospheric charm,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, clearing his throat and walking toward the cottage, ignoring the spiking heart rate their touch had caused. He was a bit concerned by the heaviness that emanated from the cottage. Atmospheric charms didn’t do that, “I created this when I first left Hogwarts. I had nowhere to go and no job prospects.”
Rumple opened the door, and Harriet found the cottage tidy but dusty and sparsely decorated. It was larger inside than she would have thought. The front door opened to a spacious main room. It housed a stove, a table, two chairs, a caldron, and a small reading nook. In the back, she could see a shadowed hallway that she assumed led to a bedroom and a bathroom. On the floor, she could see the outlines of a cellar door close to where the caldron stood. The whole cottage should have felt as cozy as it looked. Instead, there was a heaviness in the air that seemed to press on Harriet’s shoulders making it a bit hard to breathe.
“I never liked living in the city,” Rumple continued, placing the hamper and blanket on the table. He seemed just as affected as Harriet by the heaviness in the room but was striving to ignore it, “I was content here.” Rumple looked around and then walked toward the reading nook, “I wanted a place that was perfectly controlled. When I stumbled on this old village, I realized I could have a place to myself, that nobody would bother.”
“But why hide it?” Harriet asked. She was looking at the caldron. There were stains on the lip and sides that looked suspiciously like blood. Looking around she found more dark stains on the floor by the caldron and cellar door. Harriet’s recently settled stomach began to roll. She was starting to understand why this place felt haunted.
“I was paranoid,” Rumple replied, grimacing, “I had created two horcruxes by then but I had nowhere to hide them.” He looked through the books, “Plus I needed a place to hide the books I used in my more, darker studies.”
“Darker studies?” Harriet echoed; eyebrows raised.
Rumpelstiltskin nodded and pulled a book from the shelf.
“This one should do,” Rumpelstiltskin said, bringing it to the table. He sat down and began leafing through the pages.
“Uhm, Rumple,” Harriet said, still looking at the caldron, “I’m not sure I want to be in here.”
“It does feel oppressive here, doesn't it?” Rumpelstiltskin said, looking around the cottage. His shoulders slumped and he was frowning.
“Yes.” Harriet agreed, “Besides, I’m fairly sure you tortured small animals in here.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Rumpelstiltskin offhandedly replied, still surveying the cottage, “Could you please grab the other two books that look like this one? I’m going to look in the backroom briefly and then we can go.” Harriet grimaced.
“I’m not sure I want to,” Harriet muttered, but she began to look through the books anyway. Some of the titles were lost to time. However, for those that did have names, they made her even more uneasy.
“Blood Magic and the Soul,” Harriet read, scrunching her nose up, “Magick Moste Evile, The Munich Manual of Demonic Magic, Sex Magic and the Phases of the Moon, Sex Magic and the Use of Blood, ” Harriet muttered to herself, “What the fuck was he into?
Finally, she saw two identical books and grabbed them, placing them beside their mate. Uncomfortable with being alone in the cottage, she followed Rumple into the back room. She found him sitting on the dust encrusted bed looking vacantly at a picture.
“Rumple?” Harriet questioned, stepping into the bedroom. He looked at her then, his eyes a deep amber and a jolt went through her body. Slowly, she felt the back of her mind prickle and her head began hurting. Knowing something was wrong she asked, “What is it?”
“I found my mother’s picture,” Rumple replied, his voice a hiss. There was a vacantness in his eyes that she didn’t like, a hardness to them that worried her. She was well aware that Voldemort was now the Darkness, and she refused to lose Rumpelstiltskin to it. His darkness would not snuff out his light.
She sat down beside him and leaned into his shoulder. Looking at the picture Harriet smiled sadly. Merope Riddle was not a pretty woman. Years of abuse had aged her beyond her years. It was no wonder people had been surprised when she had run off with Tom Riddle Sr. Still, a part of Harriet wished it had been a love match for Merope. For her to have had some happiness in life.
“You don’t look like her,” Harriet said. She trailed her fingertips down his arm, hoping to bring Rumple back to himself. Rumple looked at her then and his eyes burned. Swallowing, she said, “Rum?”
“I take after my father in looks,” Rumple replied, his voice still a hiss, but his eyes less vacant.
“Do you want to take this with us?” Harriet asked, still stroking his arm, “It might be good for Henry to see his great-grandmother.”
Rumple didn’t say anything, he just stared at his mother’s picture. Finally, he looked up and asked, “Do you think Henry would like to see her?”
“I do,” Harriet replied with a soft smile. She found herself making swirl patterns on his wrist with her finger tip. She felt Rumple shutter slightly and her heartbeat quicken.
The amber in his eyes deepened for a moment. She could see the vacancy in his eyes fade. He licked his lips and took her hand in his, stopping her. Their eyes locked and Rumple asked, “What are you doing?”
“Your eyes Rum,” Harriet said, “The Darkness was close to the surface. I was trying to keep you calm.”
“This woman has no idea what she does to us,” The Darkness hissed and Rumple was forced to agree. Her simple touch had caused desire to blossom inside him and she had no idea. He was sure she would be mortified if she did.
“I am calm,” Rumple replied, his eyes fading back to brown. He watched as she smiled, holding his hand, “I was just upset for a moment. My mother is a touchy subject.”
“I can understand that,” Harriet replied quietly. Rumple winced and looked away. The desire he felt quickly died and a hollowness took its place.
What had he been thinking?
He killed her parents! He was married! He had been old when she was born, what in the world was he doing lusting after her? He had no right.
“She is ours,” The Darkness hissed, “We have every right!”
Rumple ignored the Darkness again, but began to feel worried. The Darkness inside of him was becoming possessive of her. Something it had never done with Belle or Cora. Was it because she was his horcrux? Or was it something more? Something deeper?
“Neither can live while the other survives,” The Darkness hissed.
“We should go,” Rumple said, taking Harriet’s hand and guiding her out of his old room.
“What are these books?” Harriet asked, pointing toward the table, smiling as she felt Rumple’s thumb absently rub the back of her hand.
“My journals,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. Realizing he still had her hand in his, he let go. Placing his mother’s picture on top of them he continued, “I detailed how I created the horcruxes. Maybe if we look through them, we can find out where I went wrong.”
Harriet nodded, “But not in here. This place gives me the creeps. It’s time to go.”
Rumple chuckled despite the oppression in the air, “Of course. This isn’t the place I wanted to show you anyway.” He waved his hand and the picture and books shrank. Placing them in his pocket he grabbed the hamper and blanket.
“No?” Harriet asked sarcastically as they left the cottage, “I’m relieved. I was beginning to think your idea of showing a girl a good time was magic sex books and disturbing potion equipment.
Rumpelstiltskin blushed as they walked through the shimmer that surrounded the cottage.
“You saw those,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered.
“Yep,” Harriet replied, popping the p.
“I never used them,” Rumpelstiltskin insisted. Why did he want her to know that?
“None of my business,” Harriet replied, smothering a smile. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she found his discomfort hysterical.
“Maybe not,” Rumple conceded, yet he still felt the urge to explain, “I used them for research. Even the most wildly off topic books can have a kernel of information. However, once I realized they would be of no help, I dismissed them.”
“And yet, they were still in your cottage,” Harriet replied, trying to bring some levity to their situation.
“They were old,” Rumple replied defensively, “It seemed wrong to throw them out.”
“Sure,” Harriet replied, cocking her eyebrow, “Pervert.”
Rumpelstiltskin snorted at that and pursed his lips. The further they walked from the cottage, the less oppressive the air was. Both were thankful for that.
They backtracked toward the hill, and Rumple guided Harriet onto a mostly destroyed path. It led off to the right, toward a large tree. Cocking her head, Harriet saw the most beautiful birds fluttering. They were in deep blues and pinks with long feathers and plumes. The birds were dipping and whirling in flight. Harriet laughed, a truly joyful sound, and said, “They are so beautiful.”
“They are jobberknolls,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he spread the blanket and motioned for Harriet to sit down. Thankful they could finally change the subject from the cottage, “A truly interesting creature. They don’t make a sound until their deaths. When they do die, they scream every word they have ever heard backwards.”
“That’s awful,” Harriet said quietly as Rumple handed her a sandwich and a cup of cold pumpkin juice. He was relieved to see that her shaking was better.
“It’s unpleasant,” Rumpelstiltskin agreed.
Silence descended as they ate and watched the jobberknolls. Rumple was glad Harriet was enjoying herself, but he felt despondent. Picking at his sandwich, Rumple tried to hide his distress. Over the past few days, Rumple had noticed how Harriet tried to hide her pain, using sarcasm and humor as a shield. She seemed uncomfortable with letting others share her pain. He had hoped that by sharing this place with her, it would show Harriet that she could trust him. That she could share that painful piece of herself with him.
Unfortunately, all he seemed to do was cause her more discomfort. As Tom Riddle, he had underestimated how magic affected the wider world. Never once would he have thought his actions in the cottage would have caused a darkness to fester. Of course, Tom Riddle had never cared about the repercussions of his actions. Nor had he contemplated what immortality would actually be like. He had wanted the renown and power that immortality gave him. Never once did he think of the price of that magic.
“Are you sorry I brought you here?” Rumpelstiltskin asked once Harriet was finished with her meal. He threw what was left of his sandwich into the clearing and watched as Harriet laid on the blanket. Her naked shoulder caught his attention and he ideally wondered what kissing it would be like. She smelled of pomegranates and honey, would she taste like them too? Horrified with himself, Rumple tore his eyes away from her and watched the jobberknolls.
“Well,” Harriet began, looking at Rumpelstiltskin. She could tell he was feeling vulnerable by the way he was leaning away from her with his hair in his face, like a shield. She could tell something was bothering him, but she was unsure what.
“No, not really,” Harriet replied thoughtfully, “The jobberknolls and the white hart were definitely the highlights of the trip. Not to mention how beautiful this part of the Forbidden Forest is.”
Rumple looked at her then and she smiled at him. Prompting him to tentatively smile back.
“Why do you ask?” Harriet asked, cocking her head to the side questioningly.
“You seemed disturbed by my workshop,” Rumpelstiltskin replied uneasily, fiddling with the blanket. His fingers fluttered as if he were spinning. He knew that his past was disgusting. That no matter how he was beginning to feel, Harriet would never return those feelings. The most he could ever hope for from her was kindness.
Besides, he didn’t want her to return those feelings. It wouldn’t be right. He was using her as a way to distract himself from the drastic changes in his life. Over the past year and a half he had died, been resurrected at the expense of his son, imprisoned and used as a plaything, married, controlled, banished, suicidal, and soon to be divorced. He needed a distraction and Harriet was perfect for that role. Her beauty and kindness were easy to get swept up in.
“You know,” The Darkness hissed, “You’re only lying to yourself.”
“Well, that’s because I was disturbed by your workshop,” Harriet replied with a grim smile, “That was where you made horcruxes, Rumple. Where you stored them. Where you tortured animals. Why in the world would I be comfortable there?”
Rumpelstiltskin opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for the right words. He felt silly and awkward, like when he had courted Milah. What was it about this woman that reduced him to a staring, simpering, idiot? Finally, he said, “I didn’t think of it like that.”
“No?” Harriet asked, prompting him to continue.
“No,” Rumpelstiltskin confirmed, “While we do need my journals to figure out what has happened to us. I originally conceived of this outing as a way to get to know each other.”
Harriet said nothing, only nodded for Rumpelstiltskin to continue, “I thought it might be easier on our partnership if we knew something about each other. I can’t show you Storybrooke or the Enchanted Forest, but I can bring you here. To the next best place.” He moved his hand around to encompass the Forbidden Forest.
“You liked it here,” Harriet replied, with a bit of wonder to her voice.
“Very much,” Rumpelstiltskin agreed, “It was a breath of fresh air when compared to the city. I didn’t feel claustrophobic out here. At night, I sometimes came to the clearing to watch the stars. Wondering if we were really alone in the universe.” Swallowing, Rumple continued, “I would often watch the jobberknolls, wondering how they seemed so happy with so little.”
Harriet said nothing, just content to listen to him.
“I tried to understand the world around me here,” Rumpelstiltskin continued, “In-between gathering those repulsive books and working on understanding horcruxes. I truly tried. But I failed. I could never understand the beauty.”
“And now?” Harriet asked quietly. She was lying on her stomach in front of him, her open hand propping up her chin, her legs crossed. She was staring intently at Rumpelstiltskin, her stomach in knots. How many times had she done the same thing? Lying in her backyard, staring at the universe, trying to make sense of her life.
“Now, I know what I missed,” Rumpelstiltskin replied with a sad smile, “However, I also remember the destruction I wrought trying to understand. The pain I inflicted.”
Looking sadly at the jobberknoll den he said, “I have heard the death call of the jobberknoll far too many times. For many people, the bird’s death moves the murderer to remorse, but I felt nothing.” Rumpelstiltskin paused, regret heavily lacing his voice, “Their deaths haunt me.”
He felt a tight twist in his heart then. It was a slight, stabbing pain. It lasted for only a breath, but it was enough for Harriet to notice something was wrong.
“You, okay?” Harriet asked, Rumple was rubbing his sternum. Looking troubled he said, “I’m fine. Just heart trouble.”
“You have a bad heart?” Harriet asked, surprised. Wasn’t he immortal?
“I’m fine,” Rumpelstiltskin said, smiling at Harriet’s concern, “Hazard of being the Dark One.” He tried to hide his growing concern, but he was sure that she could tell how worried he was becoming. Last night, he had felt that same stabbing pain and now it was back. What could it mean?
“Well,” Harriet began. She knew he was trying to change the subject, but she also knew that Rumple’s confession had been hard, “Just let me know if it gets worse.”
“I will,” Rumple agreed, smiling as Harriet kicked her feet back and forth, laying her head on her arms, she closed her eyes. Almost immediately, Harriet’s feet stilled and she was asleep. Despite the sharp pain that had dissipated as quickly as it struck, Rumpelstiltskin felt peaceful. Lying on his back, he watched the flight of the jobberknolls, allowing his mind to wonder so they might both find rest.
Harriet jerked awake and found that night had descended on the Forbidden Forest. Cold, Harriet hugged herself and rubbed her shoulders. Looking around, she found Rumpelstiltskin lying on the blanket. His arm was propping his head up and he was just staring at the stars.
“How long have I been out?” Harriet asked, voice thick with sleep. She licked her lips, trying to bring moisture to their already cracked exterior.
“Most of the day,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, quietly stargazing.
“You should have woken me,” Harriet scolded, “Now we have to walk back to the apparition point in the dark.”
“I can apparite from here,” Rumpelstiltskin said absently, “I didn’t before because I wanted the jobberknoll den to be a surprise.”
Harriet was quiet for a moment content to watch Rumple stare into the infinite void that was the night sky.
“Why are you so gloomy?” Harriet asked, crawling closer to him. She was cold and the need to feel his presence beside her was strong. To know if the night sky invoked similar feelings in him that it did her. To understand what their connection really was.
“I’m not gloomy,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, looking at her as she crawled toward him. Inexplicably, he found himself thinking how bewitching she looked in the moonlight. They were alone in the clearing. Not another human for hundreds of miles. No sign of civilization to be had, but the rotted and charred remains of a magical community long since lost. They were utterly alone, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself suddenly uncomfortable.
Before he had become Lord Voldemort, but soon after he created his first two horcruxes, he had been curious about sex. When he was at school, he had been attractive enough that young women were not repelled by him. Yet, he had never met a witch he liked. Nor did he desire to find one. When his male classmates were bragging about their conquests, he was busy studying.
He had briefly wondered if his attraction was more for wizards than witches, but one look into the mechanics of male lovemaking was enough for the young Tom Riddle to realize it was not to his taste either. No, looking back, Rumpelstiltskin realized he had been completely asexual.
Well, not completely. He had dabbled with a few young witches. Trying to understand what the attraction to the activity was. In the end, he had stopped trying to understand and wrote it off as a fluke in the human experience. An activity coveted because the human population needed to procreate.
Tom Riddle had not felt the need for human connection, so he never could understand love. If Harriet had been born when he had, would Tom Riddle had felt attracted to her?
He knew for a fact that Tom Riddle would not have been attracted to Belle. She was too innocent and kind. Milah would have been too provincial. He might have been intrigued with Cora, as he had with Bellatrix, but he never would have looked to her as an equal.
Harriet was his equal in every way. Would he have recognized that then? Or would he have noticed that later? Would she have been the one to help him truly feel? Or would he have corrupted her? Used and abused her for his own selfish desires?
“Does it matter?” The Darkness hissed, “She’s here now.”
Yes, she was, but he was not free to pursue her. Nor was he convinced he was truly feeling attraction to her. Between his vulnerability and their unique magical situation, Rumple highly suspected it had more to do with their connection than any feelings on his part. Mental connections could be powerful. This one already altered how Harriet slept and felt. Who was to say that it couldn’t alter how he felt about her? He could very well be attracted to her because she had been his horcrux.
“You’re an idiot,” The Darkness muttered.
Harriet laid next to him and put her arms underneath her head to better view the stars, “What are you thinking about.”
“You,” Rumpelstiltskin said truthfully, “Wondering what it would have been like had we attended Hogwarts together.”
“Why?” Harriet asked, taken aback and yet she felt her cheeks burn.
Rumpelstiltskin paused. He knew he had to be careful not to reveal any of his inappropriate thoughts. She would be mortified. Quite possibly scared, since he had taken her into the middle of nowhere with a creepy cottage and weird sex books. Without being reincarnated, he was fifty-nine years older than her. Being reincarnated, he was three-hundred and eight-three years older than her. Either way, the age difference was unseemly.
“You have a great capacity for kindness,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “I never could understand it. Maybe if I had met you sooner, before I made my first horcrux, you could have helped me understand.”
“Maybe,” Harriet replied quietly, looking at the stars. Then in a sardonic tone she said, “Or maybe, you and I would have murdered each other before we even left Hogwarts and saved the world the trouble.”
Rumple chuckled and looked at Harriet, who in turn looked at him. They stared at each other for a time, until Rumple said, “You truly are the kindest person I have ever met Beauty.”
“Beauty?” Harriet asked, searchingly, “That’s the second time you have called me that.”
“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, looking deeply into her eyes. The stars were bright and he enjoyed how the green in Harriet’s eyes sparkled in the starlight. Silently, he tried to convey what he was afraid words couldn’t express “Names have power. While Harriet Potter is a good, strong name. The name of a hero. It doesn’t encompass everything that you are.”
“And Beauty does? Harriet asked quietly, feeling herself blush.
“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin replied quietly, “Kindness is true beauty.”
Harriet felt her throat close and a few tears slipped down her cheeks, into her ears. Yet she didn’t brush them away. Instead, she found herself reaching for Rumple’s hand.
“Would you prefer I not call you Beauty?” Rumple asked, not looking at her. Instead, he preferred to focus on her hand in his, warm in the cool night air.
“No,” Harriet replied with a suspicious sniff and a light squeeze to his hand, “No Rum, Beauty is just fine.”
“Well, I like Rum,” Rumpelstiltskin replied and Harriet just smiled as she felt Rumple’s thumb rub the back of her hand.
Later that night, when they finally made it back home, neither noticed Remus watching them. He had gone to her apartment, still upset about yesterday, when Kreacher had answered the door. He had announced that his Mistress was out with her “man-friend” and to come back tomorrow.
It was 10 o’clock at night then. Now, at 2 o’clock in the morning, he watched as they apparated into the foyer. Rumple had his arm around Harriet’s waist and they were laughing. They both disappeared into her apartment and Harriet’s “man friend” never came back out.
Remus had stayed up the rest of the night. Stewing in his own jealousy and resentment.