February 1st
She had terrible feverish dreams for what felt like days. Augustus hadn't been wrong when he said she wasn't well. Maybe the combination of sitting in the cold for so long trying to figure out what was happening inside and months of poor nutrition and stress was to blame. It was all bound to catch up with her eventually. At least she was fortunate enough to fall ill in the presence of one of the few people alive she trusted implicitly. The alternative to being found in the streets by a less-than-savory person or being somehow returned to her husband was better than she could've hoped for.
Augustus would protect her with his life. That was never a question when her suspicious mind wasn't burning with sickness. An almost reluctant recruit to the Death Eaters at first, he became an invaluable asset with his position as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Well-liked by just about everyone who met him, he had been an unlikely Death Eater. His best friend, Corban Yaxley, was the one to approach him about picking the more dangerous side of the conflict. He'd been nervous about creating any waves at all with a young wife and a new baby to consider. With a little persuasion and the promise of a more secure future for his growing family, he began passing classified information to Igor Karkaroff. He'd been careful. Only Karkaroff's cowardice was responsible for his outing as a spy.
Fifteen years in Azkaban changed him. Many times Hermione wished she would've known him when he was young. But, he'd been a valuable part of her life regardless of how haunted his past. She lost count the number of times he physically saved her life and the number of times his kindness had been one of the only things making her life worth living. He was always ready with a smile when she needed encouragement, a joke when she needed a laugh, a sympathetic ear when she thought she was in danger of exploding.
Ron could never understand her friendship with Augustus. His hatred for the man was absolute. Not even Augustus could blame him either. He'd taken the loss of his older brother Fred very hard. When George was executed just a short time later, he blamed Augustus for that as well. His reasoning was that maybe the twins together would've come to the inevitable conclusion that it was better to comply than die. George was too far gone in his grief to see the sense in resisting the urge to fight.
The Weasleys were a family like so many others, split right down the middle. Arthur had all but given up any hope after his beloved Molly was put to death by Voldemort himself for killing his prized pet Bellatrix Lestrange. He didn't have the heart much for anything at all. Though he continued to live in their family home in the Resistance stronghold of Devon, he never participated in their activities. Bill had a family to think about. He never stood in the way of the Resistance, but he also never aided them. Percy ran off to Romania with Charlie the first chance they both could after they were powerless to save George's life or Ron from becoming the enemy. They were known for sneaking into the country from time to time to wreak a bit of havoc.
And Ginny had become almost as fanatic with the Resistance as Hermione had with the Death Eaters. Unwilling to just roll over and comply with the Dark Lord's commands after her Harry was killed, she made it her life's mission to fight against the very people her brother willingly joined. Her reputation was impressive. Even Antonin had a high opinion of her. He always liked to say it would give him great pleasure and great pain to defeat an enemy as formidable as Ginny. Hermione's path hadn't crossed hers in years. She sincerely hoped it remained so.
Her dreams, as she shivered and sweated in the Leaky Cauldron bed, were as disjointed and confusing as her waking life. Each of the Weasley family members kept flitting in and out of them. Ginny warned her that she would see her soon. It wasn't spoken in an encouraging tone either. More like a warning. Of course, even in the midst of her fever, she tried to rationalize her irrational thoughts. Maybe she was just missing the camaraderie that she used to experience with her friends in the past. She couldn't help but long for the days before her best friend was killed by her master. Life was simpler back then.
Fears of what was happening with the Death Eaters in the tavern below morphed into frightening nightmares. All possibilities were present in her dreams. As she tried to focus on the individual scenarios, none of them particularly pleasant at all, the details fell through the cracks of her mind. Like holding water in her cupped hands.
It struck her as odd that she didn't hear the sound of the Dark Lord's voice in the short period of time that she was carried in the room on Augustus' shoulder. Not even a hint of a whisper. Years at his side conditioned her to hear the sound no matter where she was or what she was doing. Often when she was present in the same room as her master she felt his magical power emanating from his skin. She always knew when he'd come closer to her. There was nothing indicating he'd even been in that room.
Was Antonin finally leading the Death Eaters in a coup d'état? He'd been considering his options for as long as Hermione had been living in his house. Even prior to their marriage he would make thinly veiled remarks about their master's power waning and what might happen when he was no longer fit to lead. Others might have had the abilities to overthrow the Dark Lord, but none had the courage it required. Antonin had little to fear. Except, of course, for his mad wife holding an ordinary fork.
She had so many questions she longed to ask of Augustus, but she couldn't formulate them into coherent strings of words when she was conscious. And, unfortunately, she was never able to stay awake very long. Mere hours could have passed or weeks. Her concept of time was sadly lacking. She desired to get better, to be able to satisfy her curiosity. Augustus wouldn't lie to her. Of that, she was entirely certain. He might not like telling her what he knew. He might even get angry with her for asking impertinent questions she didn't need to understand. In the end, however, he would share everything he knew.
Hermione forced her body to rest. She feared her husband would find her if she remained ill. Staying too long in one place was dangerous. With her mind still active, she gave over her full trust to the wizard who always promised that he'd keep her protected. After all, he had done a good job of it so far.