A/N: I don't own Harry Potter

This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Writing Club March

Lizzy's Loft: 23 - (emotion) Regret

Lyric Alley: 18 - Last night's in the rear view mirror

Sophie's Shelf: 14 - John Murphy, The 100: (scenario) Villain to Hero/Good Guy

Warning: Mentions death, torture.

Word count: 1244

Hermione looked out the window. The train was scheduled to leave in a few minutes. She could see people hustling and bustling out the window. There was a man arguing with a woman, a woman being followed by a small hoard of children, and for a second, Hermione was certain she had seen Lucius Malfoy.

She quickly put the thought out of her head. There was no reason any of the Malfoys would be here. There was no reason anyone she knew would be here. She pulled her gaze from the window. The seat next to her was still empty, but it was the only one. Personally, she hoped it would remain that way. She wasn't sure she'd be good company at the moment. She'd gone to Australia to find her parents and hopefully unalter their memories.

She'd managed to first part, but the second had proved impossible. They still had no idea who she was, nor did they remember anything of their former lives in England.

"Pardon," a deep voice said. Hermione felt her blood run cold. She thought she recognized the voice. It couldn't be, she mentally told herself. The same way she shouldn't have seen Lucius Malfoy on the platform. A dark shadow fell over her as someone sat down into the only empty seat on the train, the one right next to her. Her eyes took in the large figure, the scruffy jawline, the scar running across his face. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. Antonin Dolohov. Hermione had been certain he'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban, or killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. Either way, he should have been sitting next to her on a train in Australia.

He turned her direction. Immediately she turned and faced the window. Would he even recognize her? Would he remember hitting with that spell in the Department of Mysteries? Did he care that she had a scar across her lower stomach, that she might never fully heal from the amount of Dark Magic he'd hit her with?

"Heading to England?" he asked. She squeaked out a 'yes', keeping her head down. Her hands trembled slightly. She grabbed her book, anything to steady them.

"You from here?" he asked after a moment.

"Britain," she answered. Would he recognize her voice? No, they'd never spoken. It was unlikely he'd have any clue who she was.

"I'm from Siberia, originally," he replied. Hermione wasn't surprised, he had a touch of an accent.

"What brings you to Australia?" she asked, her curiousity finally winning.

"Business. You?"

"Family," she said after a moment. It wasn't exactly a lie. They were still her family, even if they didn't know it.

"Ahh, family is important. I had a family once. That was a long time ago."

Hermione could hear the sadness in his voice. She'd never thought about the fact he might have had a family. She'd barely given the man beside her any thought other than the fact he was a Death Eater.

"Once?" she asked in spite of herself.

"There was a war. My family, they were not on the right side."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. She'd lost loved ones too. She'd lost her parents.

"Thank you, Miss..."

The train whistle blew and Hermione could feel the train start moving. She was stuck here, next to this man, this Death Eater, until at least the next stop – three hours away.

Hermione considered lying. Did he know her name? Surely he did, she was a friend of Harry's.

"Hermione, my name is Hermione," she answered. It was the truth, he didn't need to know her surname.

"Hermione, I knew of someone with that name, in the war."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, she wondered what Dolohov would say about her. Would he slander her name, talk about how he nearly killed her?

"She was a child, much like my Anya. Just a child and I..., you don't want to know what I did to her. It was war. I know there is no redemption for what I did. I only hope she hasn't suffered too much at my hand."

"Anya?' Hermione asked. Dolohov had mentioned a family. Anya had been his daughter?

"My daughter. She was killed before the war started. She was special and others did not like that. They broke her, destroyed her, and finally, in the end... she died. I was mad with grief, my wife she left me. She could not understand, handle the fact Anya was like me, terribly like me. She blamed me for our angel's death. She died a year later."

Hermione felt tears building in her eyes.

"Why are you telling me all this? You don't even know me."

"True, I do not. Maybe that is why it is easier to talk to you now. You do not know me, you do not know the things I've done in the name of man who offered me very much."

"He offered you belonging, revenge, didn't he?" Hermione asked, slowly she raised her head.

"Yes, and in his name I hurt people. Most of whom I blamed for the death of my family. They weren't like me, Hermione. They were... I thought they lesser at the time," Dolohov paused, taking a deep breath. His entire body seemed to sag.

"And now?" she asked. "Now what do you think?"

"She was a child. I attacked a child, a girl like my Anya. A girl my Anya might have grown up to be," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. Hermione reached over and touched his shoulder gently.

"If she were here, this girl, what would do now?"

"I'd hope to every God in the universe that she forgives me. I know she would never do such a thing, I do not deserve it."

"We all did things we're not proud of," Hermione whispered, biting her lower lip. "In the name of someone else. In the name of what we thought was right."

"You were there, in the war?"

"I was. I was teenager when it started, became a warrior. I lost my family, my friends. I did something that I had hoped to reverse, but... It's not possible. I should have known it wasn't possible. I was so bright, so brilliant. I... I was there, in the Department of Mysteries. I was the girl you attacked. Hermione's not such a common name, is it?" Hermione asked, tears building in her own eyes. Dolohov raised his head and looked to her. This time, she didn't look away. She gave him a sort of sad smile.

"I'm sorry about your family. I'm sorry you were taken advantage of by that criminal."

"You mean it, you really are sorry."

"I am. And I know you feel you don't deserve it, and maybe you don't, but I can't hold onto this anger forever. Maybe I need to forgive you, maybe you need to forgive yourself even more. You're not to blame for what happened to Anya, or with your wife."

"Thank you, Hermione. I would like to make things up with you, you've actually been the first person to be kind to me since I was released. May I take you to dinner? I would like to start my life over."

"I would like that. I think a new start might be what I need to," she answered, giving him a genuine smile, the first one she'd given anyone since the war had ended.