March 7th

When the sun was long gone from the sky and the night air was chilly enough to send all of the Resistance members and their perfect little families inside, Hermione felt the urge to walk through their village. She enjoyed being outside to her continuous surprise. Staying cooped up in the bedroom had its own attractions, but she much preferred the opportunity to stretch her legs. Besides, with all of Sarah's delicious cooking, if she didn't remain at least somewhat active, she wouldn't be able to wear any of her clothes for much longer.

Just as Ginny requested, she postponed her plans to leave. She hadn't given up the idea of running completely, but at least for the time being, she wasn't going to wander far. A lot could go wrong once she was outside the protective wards. William Wood wasn't her only enemy nearby. As much as she tried to avoid those who lived in the small community, it hadn't taken her very long to realize that she was personally responsible for at least three murders of the beloved family members of a resident. If she was ever invited to a community-wide feast, she felt certain it would be quite awkward.

The Zellers had a daughter named Rose that was a few years younger than Hermione. She vaguely remembered the girl when she was Sorted into Hufflepuff at the beginning of her fifth year. There had been a lot of excitement that school year to remember, after all. Her interactions with her about ten years after the end of the war were a little more memorable. The witch had been foolish, put her trust in the wrong people. Though not a member of the Resistance, she made some unfriendly remarks about the regime that were reported. Hermione ordered a couple of low level Snatchers to bring her to Hogsmeade.

She never meant for the witch to get too hurt. In her experience, she discovered that those who spoke against the regime were often some of the best informants to have once their fear was triggered. Hermione used to enjoy the torture aspect of her job. When she allowed the seditious traitor to survive, they were usually so overjoyed that they were willing to do whatever she demanded of them. A pretty girl like Rose would have her uses.

Unfortunately, it was the girl's attractive features that were her downfall. Snatchers were vile creatures. As much as she might have had a fondness for Fenrir Greyback, the cretins he presided over were the very dregs of society. Despite ordering them to leave the girl unharmed, at least one of them was incapable of keeping it within his trousers. She'd arrived bruised, battered, incoherent, and completely useless. Even if she was nursed back to health before Hermione tortured her again, it would be for nothing. She put the girl out of her misery with a simple Avada and tortured the Snatchers instead for their incompetence. After all, she already had everything prepared. No sense in wasting the opportunity.

Learning that the house where the Resistance leaders met in belonged to her father, Tiberius Zeller, had been a bit of a shock. Once a respected Department Head in the Ministry, he had been one of the first officials to be purged when the Dark Lord took over. Of course, in those early days, being purged literally just meant losing their position. A new meaning had cropped up in the following years. No one left the Ministry alive any longer. Either they died of natural causes at a ripe old age still in their office or they died of suspicious causes with no witnesses. Usually a deadly self-inflicted curse from behind.

Two other families were similarly affected, but she didn't really remember much about their relatives. After a while, all of the victims tended to just bleed into each other. Unless they were particularly influential or their death was a great deal of fun, Hermione tended to forget about them. No doubt they were every bit as angry as William Wood. She hoped that they had more sanity than he possessed. She worried that the wizard snapped a long time ago. Perhaps the other families would be wise enough to leave her alone while she took her late evening strolls.

Darkness didn't scare her like it once had. Weeks in a broom cupboard could take away one's fear. She relished in the anonymity it provided. No one was scowling at her and no one was scooping their children up like she was some sort of frightening hag who boiled babies alive for her supper. There weren't any curious glances in her direction from those Resistance members who found her presence far more exciting than they should have. If she was still an active Death Eater, she felt certain that she could find a few willing recruits amongst the rabble. Not everyone was eager for the day when the current regime was eradicated.

"Mind if I join you?"

Startled by the voice, Hermione spun around on her heel with her wand outstretched. Though she hadn't had cause to use her weapon for a long time, she wasn't naive and trusting enough to go out walking amongst the rebels without some form of protection. Even if it brought Antonin and every single other Death Eater down upon the village at once, she would not roll over without a fight. Seeing the pale blond hair in the moonlight, she lowered her wand arm and sighed.

"Careful who you go walking up behind, Malfoy. If I'm threatened…"

"I know, I know. You'll curse me."

The smile on his lips was contagious. As much as she might hate to admit it, she was glad to see him. For whatever strange reason, he had a way about him that calmed her, made her feel like she wasn't completely alone. Maybe it was because she knew that she wasn't the only one Marked and damned. She wasn't completely over being upset with him about the subterfuge he engineered with the Jordan family, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before pure necessity forced her to forgive him.

"Yes, well, don't forget it. I still know how to use magic."

They walked around the fringes of the village in silence for several minutes. It was strangely comforting not being alone. Hermione tried to push any thoughts about the wizard out of her head that were problematic, but a few still lingered. If she allowed him to get closer, maybe they could one day become actual friends. She had so few of those. And certainly none that understood a bit of where she was coming from and were still willing to speak to her.

"Do you come to the village a lot?"

"Not really. It's not always convenient to pop in, but I'm supposed to be tracking a group of rebels right now." He shrugged his shoulders in that elegant, graceful manner she knew she could never replicate. "Makes it a little easier."

She wanted to ask him why he had been making the effort to come visit so much, but there didn't really seem to be a good reason why. The answer was clear. Draco was visiting because she was there. There was obviously more to the whole situation, a better explanation for why she was there in the first place. None was forthcoming. So, instead of ruining a perfectly good late evening walk, she didn't press him for more of an explanation. Answers had a way of coming out in the end. She could be patient. After all, it wasn't as if she had anywhere better to go.

"I've had some time to think since you last came to see me."

The words came unbidden out of her mouth. She wasn't entirely sure where she was planning on going with them, but they still had a lot to discuss. Their interactions that day were much friendlier than they had been the last time they spoke in her bedroom. Much of the anger she felt that day had dissipated. She still didn't appreciate the tests that he kept putting her through to prove her trustworthiness even if she could begin to understand why he was doing it. Mostly she just wanted to put the past behind them. For whatever reason, he was the only person in the entire village she could spend a moment with and not feel like she was going to go mad. Maybe the days they spent alone in the tent helped forge some sort of bond between them.

"And are you still angry with me?"

There was a hint of anxiety nestled amongst his words. It almost made Hermione laugh. Did she intimidate him even without her magic? He sounded prepared to run as far away in the opposite direction from her as possible if she just said the word.

"No, I don't think I am. Do you have any more tests you would like to perform on me to prove my trustworthiness?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

A smile formed on both of their faces. Draco nodded his head in agreement. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that he wouldn't try something again. That was the trouble with people like them. Maybe one could be trusted in one moment, but they might not be able to the next. Loyalties were ever-changing in a society where survival wasn't guaranteed. If she became too complacent, too trusting, she might not make it out of there alive. All of her struggles for the past almost year would have been for nothing. As tempted as she might be to try to form a friendship with the tracker, Hermione knew that it was asking for trouble. She would have to be extremely careful.

"It's late. I think I should get back."

Hermione took a single step in the direction of the Jordan home before she felt a hand gently grasp her arm to stop her movements. In her past, she was used to being grabbed like that. Antonin usually did it with a bit more force, but it was still irritating no matter how careful Draco was. She didn't like being impeded. Spinning around to face the wizard, she prepared herself for a torrent of unkind words to bubble out of her mouth. When she caught sight of his concerned, troubled grey eyes, the words caught in her throat.

"I really am sorry, Hermione. What I did to you was unkind."

His hand didn't leave her arm. Simply traveled up until it rested on her shoulder. She felt her heartbeat speed up. Their eye contact did not break.

"I hope that you can truly forgive me for it."

She didn't want to talk about the fake newspapers anymore. It was done. Nothing either one of them said or did could reverse what had already happened. He was able to stop her in the last second before she turned herself back over to her husband. Wanting to move on, she shrugged her arm out of his grasp and dropped her eyes to the ground.

"Good night, Draco."

As she rushed away from the wizard, she realized that she never responded to his statement. It was unnecessary. Part of her had already forgiven him and the rest never would.