THIRTY-ONE

Appearing back outside the window of her borrowed bedroom, Hermione glanced about. True to what Oksana's warnings seemed to indicate—that villagers thought unnecessary travel after dark unwise at best—the quaint little road winding away from the house and further into the heart of the village was entirely deserted.

Yet ….

As she turned back toward her waiting window, fully aware the ward would permit her since her host's magic recognized her own, the witch couldn't help a sudden prickly awareness jetting up her spine and dancing uncomfortably across her shoulders. A sensation like ….

Like she was being watched.

Returning her attention to the road, she cast a Lumos. There was a flickering thought through her mind that perhaps Antonin had come after her—that he'd again fallen prey to his inability to control himself when it came to her—but she couldn't bring herself to believe that. This felt different.

The light fell on the stony road beneath her feet as she moved her wand, on the craggy bark of nearby trees, on the corner wall of a small, quiet house across the way.

Nothing.

Hermione frowned, her stomach knotting. There was something disconcerting about how much she doubted her own eyes just now.

Giving herself a shake, she backpedaled toward her window. Extinguishing her light charm, she carefully lifted herself to sit on the ledge of sill and slipped backward into the room.

Her gaze still on the road outside, unable to name the swirl of unsettled feelings washing through her, she waited a moment longer. Watching. Listening.

Convincing herself it was her imagination—hoping it was her imagination—she shuttered the window and, for good measure, cast her own wards on it.

Still unable to look away from the window, Hermione toed off her shoes and moved toward her bed. Crawling under the covers, she tried to think of a way to ask Oksana about this in the morning. Perhaps a sound outside her window? The sensation of being watched when she simply, innocently, peered outside to look for the source?

Yes, that sounded good.

Hardly feeling assured, she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to will herself to sleep.

With any luck, whatever was out there didn't share Dolohov's ability to bypass magical barriers.