March 8th

Another opportunity to help around the Jordan house presented itself shortly after Hermione took it upon herself to clean up the family's kitchen following each meal. Sarah initially hadn't been too willing to relinquish some of her household duties. She was one of those women Hermione always struggled to relate to who found personal joy and fulfillment in the caring of their families. She always assumed that that gene must have been recessive in her family because her mother hadn't possessed it either. When her hostess finally stopped trying to interfere with her guest's generosity, she was able to focus more on her daughters' education.

There was no formal school in the village. All lessons were completed at home under the instruction of the child's parents. Because no one who lived there was truly free to pursue usual employment outside of their safe haven due to their known ties to the Resistance, it wasn't generally much of a hardship for anyone. Finding ways to fill up time could be difficult. Though it quickly became evident that Sarah wasn't a natural teacher, she did what was expected of her and supervised the girls' lessons at the kitchen table.

While she finished the washing up from breakfast, Hermione kept part of her attention on the teaching steps away. Posy was a sweet student who did exactly as she was instructed without any debate. She was clearly a rule-follower, the kind of student that teachers always adored. Her older sister, however, reminded Hermione so much of herself as a young girl that she was uncomfortable. Argumentative, too curious and inquisitive for her own good, Lizzie was driving her mother mad. It was clear that tempers were about to flare. Frustrated with yet another argument from her older daughter, Sarah rose to her feet in a huff.

"Finish your lesson, Elizabeth."

She made her excuses to step outside for a calming breath of fresh air. Hermione was sympathetic to the woman's plight and decided to take it upon herself to make certain her orders were followed even if she wasn't there to supervise them. Mothers had to stick together to help each other out at times. If Hermione hadn't had the benefit of Mafalda Yaxley living next door in Hogsmeade, she might have resorted to physical violence to keep her sometimes unruly son under control. Mafalda had a quiet way about her that Oliver responded to. Sometimes she had even been jealous of the witch. Maybe her son would've preferred to have her as a mother. Not that she could really blame him.

"Why do you always have to argue with Mummy, Lizzie?"

"Shut up."

Posy was too used to her sister's surly attitude to be offended. She simply sighed and went back to her own schoolwork. So unlike both of her parents, if Lizzie wasn't the perfect combinations of both Sarah's and Lee's best physical attributes, she might have been suspicious that the witch was actually a changeling left behind by the faeries or the result of an illicit affair Sarah had with a violent stranger. The girl would grow up to be very beautiful she was certain. Few things in existence were more dangerous than great beauty combined with a clear issue with anger and a fascination with the darker aspects of life. Bellatrix Lestrange was the perfect example of that kind of terrible combination.

"Do you think my mum is right, Hermione?"

Keeping her back to the girls at the sink, Hermione closed her eyes and tried not to groan. She didn't want to get caught in the middle of a family disagreement. This wasn't her family after all. Besides, she didn't like Lizzie and doubted that feeling would ever change. Ignoring her would not be an option. She was too persistent, too demanding. She prepared herself for an unpleasant interaction and turned around.

"It doesn't matter what I think. Sarah is your mum. You should do as she asks."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed at the statement she didn't care to hear. No doubt she was expecting more from their houseguest. A girl who was also not used to hearing 'no' could become a major problem. Hermione was thankful she wasn't hers. She also hoped that there was never cause for Lizzie to meet her Oliver. Keeping him protected from terrifying young witches who would chew him up and spit him out was almost enough motivation for her to go crawling back to Antonin. Considering his frightening track record with witches in his past, he wouldn't be much help to keep their son from going down the same path.

"Did you always do what you were supposed to?"

It was a challenge. One Hermione couldn't exactly be truthful about. She often was guilty of doing the exact opposite of what she was supposed to do. A bloody terrible role model for an impressionable young girl. Maybe there was some truth to what the vile William Wood taunted her about days earlier. She could very well be a negative influence in the Jordan home. The elder of the two girls already looked at her as if she was some kind of fascinating specimen to learn more about. If they weren't careful, Lee and Sarah might see their daughter go down a dark and twisty road in the near future.

"This isn't about me. Listen to your mum. She only wants what's best for you."

"Did your mum want you to be a Death Eater?"

The bowl she was rinsing slipped from her hands to crash into the bottom of the sink in countless fragments. A gasp from Posy and a whispered reminder that they weren't allowed to ask questions about "You-Know-Whats" didn't bother Lizzie at all. She sat perfectly still, waiting for her inquiry to be answered with a smirk on her face. Based on the kind of girl she was, Hermione knew that she wouldn't be satisfied without an answer. She took another deep, steadying breath, foolishly hoping that there would only be one difficult question to answer.

"My mum didn't know what a Death Eater was, but if she did, I'm certain she wouldn't have wanted me to make the choice I did."

"Then why did you?"

There was a spark in the girl's eyes that reminded Hermione eerily of the night she asked to see her Dark Mark. She was drawn to the darkness. Hopefully it was simply a folly of youth that she would outgrow before she had the opportunity to make any decisions that she couldn't unmake. In her time as a follower of the Dark Lord, she'd seen many be seduced and immediately regret their choices. If Lizzie was one of those, there was some hope for her yet. If, like Hermione feared, she was more like the ones that discovered their true calling for violence and degradations when they were recruited, there was likely nothing that could be done to prevent her from seeking out her doom.

"Because I was afraid and didn't believe I had any other choice."

It was the truth, but not entirely. At some point, she moved past survival and became a Death Eater simply because she wanted to. Harry would never have understood her decision. That was fine. She'd given up any hope long ago that those she cared about and loved in the past would ever forgive her for what she'd done. A day would come at the end of her life where she would have to answer for her crimes. It was a sobering thought, but one she tried not to dwell too much on.

"'Comply or die.'"

The mantra that had come to so adequately personify the regime she had been proud to be a part of slipped from Lizzie's mouth with a confidence that was telling. What had come to mean death for so many idealistic fools excited the young witch.

"Why did you run away?"

A hardness colored the girl's features. She seemed angry for reasons Hermione couldn't even begin to fathom. Was she bothered by the fact that she'd tried to seek out another life? Did she believe her to be a coward and a traitor? Because she absolutely was. Hermione simply didn't understand why a child born and raised within neutral Wales by a former Dumbledore's Army member and a Hufflepuff could become so fascinated and protective of the witches and wizards that should have been part of her nightmares.

"Lizzie, I think you should get back to your lessons like your mum told you."

She didn't want to answer any more of the unnerving girl's questions. Any hope that she might have been able to help Sarah with her daughters' lessons were dashed. She wanted nothing to do with the elder girl. As she turned back to the sink to go about cleaning up the mess she made, Lizzie couldn't resist delivering one more passing blow.

"I didn't think your husband was all that scary when he came to our house. He seemed sad you weren't there."

Hermione ignored the rest of the dishes and headed straight for her room. She couldn't bear to listen to the girl anymore.