January 19th
Remaining in the pillaged house was never going to be an option. As soon as Hermione got over the initial shock of her bizarre meeting with Malfoy, she packed up her discarded blankets, searched the cellar for anything else of value she might have missed, and exited the house before she could be discovered by the hapless Muggles upstairs. The sense of urgency she'd had about leaving the city dissipated slightly. Like he promised, if Malfoy wanted to find her again, he would.
She couldn't explain why she was more intrigued than frightened by him. Even when she berated herself for not taking her safety seriously, she couldn't change her feelings. It could all be one big trap. Force had been attempted a couple times since she first escaped. Alecto Carrow had been uncomfortably close to catching up with her in London. Only the tentative friendship she'd long ago established with the woman kept her out her clutches. A split second of hesitation on Allie's part had been all that Hermione needed. She was able to move out of the way at the last moment to safety. Her conscience only plagued her slightly about Allie's fate when she returned to Hogsmeade. Their master would not be pleased. Neither would Antonin. At best she would just be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. At worst… well, it didn't matter. Hermione couldn't afford to think about anyone else when her own survival wasn't yet guaranteed.
Perhaps, Malfoy was using her intellect and thirst for knowledge to his advantage. If he could keep her guessing long enough to want to know more, he could swoop in when she wasn't expecting it to capture her. But, she had to remind herself, couldn't he have taken her in the cellar? Assuming that there was indeed an Anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property, he could have simply Stunned her with very little effort. A portkey that he could easily obtain from the Ministry of Magic would have been all that was required to drag her back to be thrown at the feet of the Dark Lord.
It was difficult to remain logical in an illogical world. Hermione could not understand the first bit about his fascination with her whereabouts. Clearly, he hadn't been hired by her ruthless master or her abandoned husband. He wasn't even hired by her former teacher. Any one of those men would've demanded she be brought back to them immediately. What was Malfoy playing at? And how did her protector factor in to this whole situation? She couldn't understand what part he played.
Now that leaving Cardiff wasn't a necessity just yet, Hermione took to wandering around the city again. She wanted to see what it had to offer. Maybe she would find the answer to where she needed to go next somewhere in her exploration. The city had a long history of ships filled with the region's coal leaving their ports. It was easy to dream about stowing aboard one of the many vessels harbored in the area. She didn't even care about the destination as long as it was away from the country she had grown to despise.
Idealism was a folly for the young. She no longer felt like she was of an age to imagine a world without the violence and depravity that had been her existence. Maybe the rest of the world would look at her without knowing what she'd endured to proclaim her still young, but she knew better. Age was just a number. In the long run, it meant nothing. There were people in their nineties still agile and naïve while children not even in their teens had seen the worst of their society and grown hard within themselves to survive.
None of the children who fought and who still breathed at the end of the day Harry Potter was murdered could ever be considered anything other than hardened battle veterans. Some, like Neville and George, refused to give up the struggle. Refused to cower to the idea that they were simply a cog in the machinery that they could not control. Each of them went to their deaths believing that it was still possible to resist the transformation into darkness. She would have pitied them for their idealistic imbecility if she didn't also admire them their bravery. They demanded that the world change to meet their demands, not the other way around. While clearly not possible, she admired that they had such strong convictions in their beliefs. One learns quickly as they grow up very little in life is simple. Nothing is black or white. Everything was a shade of grey. To not understand that, to cling to such simplistic ideas, showed a complete lack in the experience of living.
She used to spend her free hours crusading for the freedom of a species she believed to be subjected to the whims of a cruel master. It never once occurred to her that there was a certain freedom in slavery that could be found nowhere else. When one isn't burdened with the worries of making their own decisions or thinking for themselves, there is peace of mind. Follow the orders of someone else and leave the mind closed to the notion that those speaking on your behalf might not have your best interests at heart, you'll never worry the next day. Someone else is taking care of it.
Both sides had figured out the formula for enslaving the minds of the people too weak and corrupted to maintain their own thoughts. Albus Dumbledore was just as guilty. He manipulated the very ideals and value systems of an entire group of people who firmly believed they were on the side of the 'good'. It hadn't even been that difficult. All that he needed to do was loudly and confidently proclaim that he was fighting to have a world free of evil and darkness. He convinced even himself that what he was doing was simply for the 'Greater Good'. Countless people in the seventies and the nineties died because they believed it was a cause worth dying for. Lord Voldemort never hid his nefarious plans behind pretty words and kind gestures. Though he might have used less force, Dumbledore was every bit as insidious in his machinations. Innocent people who should have been able to look forward to a long life with their families were cut down too early. There were no winners.
Many times in the past Hermione tried to understand what the 'Greater Good' even meant. How could one person even determine what would be best for the world? It took a great deal of blind arrogance for wizards like Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald to make the decisions for everyone else. She had little use for men with egos that large. It was all too easy to point the finger at the imperious masculinity of such a mindset to see fault as a witch forced to endure the ramifications, but it wasn't that simple. Witches were just as culpable as wizards. There was a certain amount of permission that everyone in their society, regardless of their sex, gave to these power-mad figures. Her fellow humans, Muggles included, were simply sheep incapable of making their own choices. Those who didn't fall in line often wished they had.
In the end, it all boiled down to a simple concept. There was no Light side and there was no Darkness. They were all just a flawed and dangerous people. Everyone was certain that what they believed was correct and if anyone even dared to disagree, they were evil or sadly misguided. It had taken Hermione a long time to understand that one could not determine the character of a person simply by assuming. No one belonged in a box. A witch raised in the mire of blood supremacy had shown her more kindness and proven to have a more generous heart than a wizard from the worst of all blood traitor families.
Hermione wandered away from the port when the fantasy of running away to a distant land became choking. She was afraid to hope for the future. All of her dreams had been crushed over time. What was left? When the sun began to descend from the sky and the temperature dropped even lower, she pulled tight the coat she still hadn't thrown away yet around her exhausted body and began looking for somewhere to rest for the night.