January 20th
Dreams were an escape that Hermione took advantage of whenever she could. When she was younger and determined to make her own mark on the world, or at the very least prove that she belonged in the world she was a part of, she would sleep as little as possible just to keep her body functioning. The human body really needed very little to keep going. Though she was well aware that it wasn't healthy to skip sleep entirely, she always imagined that there would come a moment in time when she could slow down enough to actually get a full night's sleep. Once she was finished with exams, she could sleep. Then, once she was finished with her summer coursework, she could sleep. Oh, but then she had to read all of her schoolbooks before the beginning of term to make sure she wasn't completely ignorant of the subject matter. But, once she was in the castle, there was always something else that kept her from allowing herself to relax.
Antonin had to physically drag her up to her attic bedroom to go to sleep more than a few times when she was stuck obsessively practicing a new spell. He would take her wand away, spell the door locked, and promise her that he would release her only once he was satisfied she had gotten some sleep. Later, her annoyed husband would steal her books and demand she either come to bed or leave the house for good. Once or twice she imagined that wasn't the worst of fates. Certainly since running away she'd discovered that the illusion of a happy family was more difficult to bear than the reality of a harsh life on the run.
As a fugitive always searching for safe places to sleep, Hermione learned to take advantage of a warm bed when she had the chance. A small hotel on the outskirts of the city temporarily closed for renovations provided an opportunity she hadn't expected. No one seemed too worried about ensuring that all of the doors to the building were locked. Of course, considering there was a large hole in the side of one wall covered only in a thick sheet of plastic, maybe they assumed that anyone who wanted inside would get in regardless of whether or not the exterior doors were all latched. She quietly slipped in the building, climbed the stairs to the uppermost floor, and discovered a room that hadn't yet been touched at the very end of the corridor.
There was no electricity and the water was shut off, but she'd stayed in far less luxurious accommodations. She set up a series of obstacles, both out in the corridor and behind the door in the room she was borrowing, to let her know if there was someone else in the building. Being caught unaware while sleeping was always a danger she had to consider. When she was satisfied that she would have at least some warning before she was attacked by an irate Muggle or by a Death Eater finally able to catch a whiff of her scent, she laid down in the bed to rest her tired body.
It did not take long before she was escaping back into her dream world. Everything was simpler there. She didn't have to worry about the future or relive what she had done in her past. If it was possible to make it so she never had to wake up and could spend the rest of her miserable existence within her dreams, she would have done what was required in a heartbeat. At least while she was asleep she couldn't hurt anyone else.
As it often did when she was weary and wishing for someone else to at least help her carry her burdens, Hermione dreamed of the first time she ever opened her attic bedroom window. Disjointed images flooded her brain. Two weeks into her training with Antonin, she was afraid she was going to break. Her determination to remain strong and whole was impossible. What she was asking of her own body and spirit wasn't working. If the wizard was planning to demolish her will, he was succeeding.
She forced her dream to push past the worst parts of that day. It didn't matter what he did to her in the end. He was going to do what it took to fulfill his master's orders. He always did. Nothing mattered more to Antonin Dolohov than what the Dark Lord wanted. At least in those early days. Before she cut ties with him and the rest of the Death Eaters to run, she'd heard the whispers. Antonin was growing stronger as their Lord was allegedly growing weaker. Anyone with half a brain could read the writing on the wall. A day would come when they would split into factions. A challenge would be made to Voldemort.
Whether or not Antonin would succeed was still a mystery to Hermione. If he waited long enough and chose his moment carefully, she believed he would be the Dark Lord's successor. Immortality was a failed desire for the Dark Lord. With his horcruxes destroyed and his soul far too splintered to make another, he was at the mercy of his own magic. When the day came that he was no longer the strongest, he would fall. All the more reason it was important that she run when she could. If Antonin failed, she would be punished right along with him. As his most prized student, he was the reason why Hermione was as ruthless as she was. It wouldn't be a far stretch to assume that Antonin possessed her entire loyalty. Once upon a time, he had.
But if Antonin succeeded, she might have been safe for a little while. Safe until he decided that she was too big of a threat. One cannot remain in power long without looking out for their own Brutus constantly over their shoulder. Antonin had every reason to fear that she would turn on him at some point. Maybe she didn't want the responsibility of leadership, but she was still a formidable opponent. Some of their comrades liked her better than him. It wouldn't be a stretch to imagine that he would get rid of her when he had the chance before she could make trouble for him.
Her dream pressed on to the moment she slammed her attic bedroom door. Antonin was only steps behind her, shouting about her failures. He stood on the other side of the door making it clear that he wasn't done with her lesson. She didn't care if he broke the door down or blasted it off its hinges. Thirty seconds without seeing his face was all she needed. A minute alone and she could recharge her senses enough to the point that she could continue.
Hermione saw the tiny window above her bed. It was too narrow and small for anyone, even someone as thin as her, to slip through. Even if she wanted to try, she couldn't use it as an escape. Curious to know what would happen if she opened the window like her protector asked her to do if she needed him, she unlatched the casing and lifted the glass. A visual sweep of the area proved that no one was watching. She didn't suddenly see anyone in the streets of the bustling village looking up. It seemed like a silly waste of her time. No one was on her side anymore. If she wanted to survive, she would have to do so completely on her own.
Antonin tried to hide his surprise when she opened the door he was still banging on to demand that they go back downstairs to finish what they started. She had given herself up to her fate. There was no escape, no knight in shining armor waiting to whisk her away from the danger she was in. No, if she wanted anyone to save her, she was going to have to become her own savior.
A loud knock on the front door of the cottage startled both teacher and student. Its insistence that it not be ignored compelled Antonin to pause the lesson long enough to see who could possibly be disturbing them. Hermione stood in the corner of the room, waiting to see what happened next. Had she brought the visitor? Or was it all just a coincidence? It didn't really matter. She wasn't expecting much.
"Come inside. Hermione will make you some tea."
"That's not necessary. I won't be here long."
She felt her hands begin to tremble. It was him. There was no way she would ever be able to forget his voice. Still unable to see who he was, she forced herself not to rush towards the door. Any show of anticipation or curiosity would arouse the suspicions of her teacher. She kept her eyes downcast to the floor. Antonin stepped back to allow their visitor entrance.
"Nonsense. I insist. Hermione, put the kettle on."
When she lifted her head to respond to Antonin's demand, all she could see were the kind, green eyes of the man who sat outside her broom cupboard keeping her safe all of those weeks. He stood in the middle of the doorway, calmly acting like his sudden appearance was perfectly normal. Flustered, she spun on her heel to comply with her teacher's demand.
If she had had her way, Hermione would have gladly continued the dream. She wanted to make it to the moment in the kitchen when she handed the wizard his tea and their fingertips brushed. The unintentional act sent a jolt straight up her arm. She wanted to dream about his amused smile, his polite manner of drawing her into the conversation like she wasn't a prisoner, his soft whisper in her ear before he left reminding her that he would come whenever she needed him. It had begun an open friendship that developed into a secret relationship that everyone knew about. Neither of them had been as careful as they imagined.
But, a loud crash in the corridor just outside her stolen hotel room jarred Hermione out of the deep sleep she'd been enjoying. Someone was coming closer to her room and they weren't even trying to be quiet about it.