March 16th

The distance the tent provided from the rest of the Resistance members residing in the small village was helpful to Hermione's delicate psyche, but not the perfect solution. She felt like she had a bit of breathing room. No longer did she have to worry about the too-inquisitive-for-her-own-good small witch cornering her in an empty room to ask questions she had no business knowing the answers to. Sarah was generous enough to stop by each evening when the sun had gone down to bring a basket full of food she could eat the next day. It had been a kindness she hadn't expected. Still, the tent wasn't the answer to all of Hermione's current problems.

Being alone had been one of the more difficult parts of living on the run. Used to spending most of her waking moments surrounded by people, she discovered months earlier that isolation wasn't the paradise it initially sounded like. When she was stuck in a room full of blathering idiots she was required to socialize with because they had matching Marks on their arms, she would imagine what it would be like to never have to speak to any of them again. Even a single night in an empty bed where she didn't have to worry about the sound of Antonin's steady breathing driving her completely mad seemed like Heaven. Now that she had not only had a taste of it, but a bellyful, she almost started missing the days she spent around other human beings.

Perhaps it was the fact that she wasn't constantly on the move that gave her the opportunity to think about her predicament. When she was moving from place to place with no plans or hopes for the future, she didn't exactly have the time to think about how lonely she was. Survival was more important. She had to focus on the basic elements - food, water, shelter, heat. Anything else was secondary and could be put off to consider another day. The luxury of knowing where she was going to sleep each night and where her next meal was going to come from opened her up to a lot of other concerns she hadn't had to consider much since running away from her son's eleventh birthday party while her husband writhed on the kitchen floor in his own blood.

Like boredom. Yes, there was plenty of that when she was holed up in someone else's home hiding while they were on holiday. Or when she was able to find a bit of shelter in an abandoned car. Utilizing Muggle public transportation offered plenty of opportunities for boredom. But, at least then she had the thoughts of what she was going to do next to occupy her mind. An idle mind was a dangerous enemy. Spending her days inside her tent or sitting just outside of it watching the village activity sounded like a future filled with nauseating boredom. Even late night walks when everyone else had gone to bed wouldn't likely improve the situation.

She had spent too many years in the very heart of the regime's activities. With the exception of the days that her husband thought he knew best and demanded that she stay home for her own safety, she was used to being right where all of the action was. There was always something going on, something to keep her mind occupied. Truthfully, if she hadn't had that moment in her kitchen when she just snapped, she would probably still be there enjoying the fruits of her labor. Maybe even standing next to Antonin as his most trusted advisor while he quietly campaigned to become the next Dark Lord. If she didn't have to fear that maybe she would be murdered upon sight, she sometimes wondered if she wouldn't be happier going back home. The swirling thoughts in her brain, ever-changing with her moods, could be difficult to keep up with. She didn't know what she wanted from one moment to the next.

Only when the moon rose high in the night sky and the village began to wind down its day did she feel like she could breathe normally again. The tent had been a kind gesture on Draco's part, one she still wasn't sure about. He might have claimed that all he wanted was a place to stay when he was around, but she hadn't survived as long as she had living amongst people who wanted to kill her by taking everything that was said to her at face value. Having her own private place to stay was enough to keep her tethered to the area for a short time longer. Not forever. Until she uncovered the answers to the questions that plagued her or until she became certain that they would never be offered, she would stay where she was no matter how miserable it made her feel.

A rustling just outside the flap of her tent long after most of the village residents were asleep startled Hermione out of her thoughts. Both grateful for the distraction and worried what she would find when she looked outside, she held her practically useless wand in her hand, ready to strike, if forced. The moment her eyes settled on the furry Saint Bernard sitting on his hind legs staring in her direction, she felt her shoulders slump in relief. She didn't think that Rodolphus was there to maul her to death. If he wanted to transform back into his human form and attempt a different sort of mauling, she might easily be persuaded. But, she wouldn't hold her breath. He'd had plenty of opportunities in the past, plenty of subtle and not-so-subtle invitations, and never shown the slightest bit of interest. Somehow she didn't think that would ever change. She stepped past the wards, revealing her presence. The massive dog didn't even flinch.

"Want to come inside or go for a walk?"

Without so much as a woof, Rodolphus crossed over the cloaking spell his nephew put in place. By the time Hermione followed him back into the tent, he was already transformed back into a human. He looked around the space with a discerning eye. Unsure what he was looking for, she gestured to the table in the middle of the room. As he continued his non-verbal examination of the tent, she kept her hands busy with brewing them some tea in the less efficient Muggle way. The continued silence grew on her nerves. She set a teacup in front of him and blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"Who knows who you really are in the village?"

Rodolphus was in no hurry to answer. He accepted the tea and prepared it to his liking before drinking. Hermione became irritated. Why would he make such a production about coming to visit her only to stay silent?

"Aberforth Dumbledore and Ginny Weasley know who I really am. And Draco, of course. I've been living here as a beloved family pet. Tiberius Zeller is very fond of scratching my belly."

"And you're not worried that he's going to figure out you're an animagus?"

He waved his hand in the same imperious manner she'd seen his younger brother employ a thousand times. Clearly, he was unconcerned that his subterfuge would be discovered.

"Simple confundus charm and a memory spell. Zeller believes he's already checked me for a human. He thinks that I've been his pet for years."

"Why do so few people know who you are?"

"Why do you think, Hermione?"

She always hated when he answered one of her questions with one of his. It was a teaching tactic that she had come to despise when she was still being molded into the perfect Death Eater. Antonin utilized it on occasion, but mostly, it was Rodolphus who refused to give her the satisfaction of immediately quenching her curiosity. He seemed to find it more beneficial to her education to ensure that she discovered the answers herself. Sighing and not even bothering to hide the rolling of her eyes, she considered his reasonings for remaining a silent part of the village.

"I would imagine it would be because despite your very public defection from the Dark Lord's service, most of the Resistance wouldn't accept you as one of them. Especially not after your history with the Longbottoms."

"I'm pleased to see that your brain hasn't completely turned to shite in the past four years."

Part of her wanted to argue with him that he was wrong, but she stopped herself. What was the point in bringing up the concerns she had about her mental faculties with the likes of him? Knowing what he was capable of, he would only use that knowledge as a weapon against her if it suited his purposes to do so. He didn't need to know everything. Once upon a time they might have been working on the same side. Now? She couldn't be certain of anything. It was dangerous to put trust in one who had not proven themselves worthy.

"I pass messages on to my nephew from time to time. A dog wandering the countryside attracts much less attention than a strange man."

"Yes, I would imagine so."

"Of course, there hasn't been need for me to journey very far lately. It seems that Draco is much more content to come straight to the village for his information."

There was a bite to his tone, a wealth of meaning behind his words. Something about Draco's recent visits to the village did not sit well with his uncle. Hermione had the feeling that she was the reason. He might have respected her a lifetime earlier, but the world had changed. Rodolphus was no longer entrenched in the intrigue and danger of their former world. Perhaps, he wasn't too keen on the idea that she would be the instrument in his nephew's folly.

"He's made several visits in recent days. For what purpose, I can't be certain. He hasn't exactly made his intentions clear to me."

Rodolphus grew more bold in his temper. His light green eyes filled with an anger she hadn't seen in a long time. And never directed at her before.

"What exactly is your relationship with Draco, Hermione?"

This was more than the 'state your intentions' conversation that many concerned family members had with the potential partners or suitors of their loved ones. Though he might not come right out and admit so, Rodolphus wanted her to stay away. He didn't trust her any longer. At least not when it came to the wizard he'd cultivated a relationship with after the war ended despite the drop in his family's respectability. Fifteen years in Azkaban for refusing to give up on their Dark Lord meant that Rodolphus didn't give a fuck what others thought about him or his decisions. He'd earned the right to live his life how he saw fit. Lying to him would not be an option. Besides, Hermione had too much respect for him to do that.

"To be honest, Roddy, I'm not sure. Friends, maybe?"

"Just friends?"

"At the moment, yes."

Knocking back the rest of his tea even though the temperature had to have still been quite hot, Rodolphus rose to his feet. Transforming back into his canine form without another word, he exited the tent. He didn't have to say what was on his mind. She could understand it all too well. Rodolphus wanted her to stay as far away from his nephew as possible.