March 24th

After his rather dramatic storming out of the tent the previous morning, Hermione hadn't seen Draco. She thought he might have simply gone off to calm down from their surprisingly tense discussion, but he'd never returned. Either he was back tracking the trail of an undesirable or he was avoiding any contact with her. One possibility made sense, the other none at all.

For the rest of the day and part of the next she tried to imagine what it was that she said to make him so upset. They might have spent more time together in that year than they had ever had before, but that didn't mean that she understood the man. So much about him was still a mystery she wasn't even sure that she cared enough to uncover. Sure, she liked when he came to the village. At least for a little while she felt like she wasn't completely alone. Few who had been so affected by the last war and its aftermath were able to keep both their hands and their consciences clean. She appreciated that there was at least one soul within the immediate area who had some idea what it had been like to survive under the Dark Lord's orders.

She didn't expect anyone to forgive her for her crimes. They were too many, too brutal. Even if she attempted to make up for everything she had done, under orders and willingly, there weren't enough days in a single lifetime to atone. Not even a magical lifetime that could easily last as long as two centuries. In truth, she didn't want anyone to absolve her of her sins. She preferred to carry them around in her gut, reminding her every few seconds what she was capable of. Sometimes they helped her remember she could be strong, other times they reminded her how weak she really was.

But analyzing every word that passed between them the previous morning brought her no closer to understanding why he behaved so oddly. He didn't seem to want her to become a spy for the Resistance which made even less sense than his storming out. What other purpose would he have for bringing her to the village if not to encourage her to take them up on their request? Nothing a Death Eater did was done out of the goodness of their heart. There was always an agenda or they didn't last long in the Dark Lord's forces. He had his own reasons for seeking her out. Had they changed over the length of time they were back in each other's lives?

Hermione hadn't made up her mind one way or the other whether or not she was going to put herself and her son in danger to work with the Resistance. Sure, she might have said she would consider it to get Ginny Weasley to teach her how to cloak her magic, but not once did she make a single promise. Knowing how to perform magic without Antonin being able to pick up the trace was her ticket to actual freedom. Maybe she could disapparate across the Channel or imperio some ship captain to take her to another continent. Pretending to be a spy, at least in the beginning, could get her what she wanted. After all, she wasn't a selfless being any longer. If there wasn't something tangible for her to gain, she wasn't going to do it.

It was also possible that the reason why Draco was so angry with her the previous day was because he knew that she would be more likely to renege on any promises made to spy for the Resistance. Had he become so determined to restore the glory to his family's name that he actually believed in what they were trying to accomplish? She'd insulted him in their discussion when she brought up how low the Malfoys had fallen. Was that why he was so upset? She could understand being prickly about a sore subject like that. It would be perfectly understandable that he would want to distance himself from the woman who spoke so lightly of something that had to be quite painful. He might have gone "all-in" with the Resistance. "Drunk the potion", as they sometimes said. Perhaps he was observant enough to know a rat when he saw one. Hermione had no sense of honor to keep her from stooping to lows that were unseemly. Somewhere along her journey since she was ripped from the broom cupboard still covered in the blood and ash from the Final Battle, she'd learned how foolish a thing honor could be.

The longer she dwelled on the possibilities to explain why he'd behaved so strangely, the more annoyed and frustrated she became. When had her life become so void of any excitement that she had to pick apart the words a wizard uttered like some sixth year schoolgirl? With no promises of Ginny returning to inform her whether or not she would be taught to cloak her magic, Hermione knew that she needed some fresh air. The canvas walls were apt to drive her crazy if she stayed within them much longer.

As much as she might have preferred to wait until darkness had fallen to take her walk, she knew she couldn't afford to get caught alone by an enemy like Wood again. He had gotten very close to starting the odious task he'd been fantasizing about. She couldn't let him catch her alone again where there were no witnesses. Unless she had a companion to go walking with her, she had to resort to stepping outside of the tent only when other residents were out and about. They might run from her in terror, but at least they were potential witnesses to hopefully deter any would-be assassin.

Deciding that she would walk past the Jordan home just in case they were outside enjoying the warmer weather, she set her course. It only took a couple of hate-filled glares from a gathering of witches who would love to see her dead to make her change direction. Walking in front of the homes brought too much attention. Instead, she circled round to walk behind the back gardens.

The Jordan family's home was in her sights and she could hear the familiar laughter that belonged to her fellow Gryffindor when the opening of a garden gate startled her into stopping. Too much time spent in the same place had made her reflexes slow. She hadn't even heard the footsteps of another soul because her focus was so intent on her destination. It was a deficiency that would get her killed one day.

Her sudden appearance behind his back garden was every bit as much a surprise for Tiberius Zeller as it was for Hermione. Each of them stood perfectly still staring into the other's shocked eyes for several awkward seconds that felt like much longer. She wasn't sure what was going to happen next. He was an unknown variable. As the instrument in his daughter's death, she could very likely be in grave danger, but somehow, she didn't feel the fear that always accompanied a moment she knew her life was in peril. Understanding that she had the option to make the interaction less uncomfortable by rushing away, Hermione dropped her gaze to her feet and continued towards the Jordans. Only a footstep or two away from the disgraced Ministry official and his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"May I ask you a question, Mrs. Dolohov?"

There was just the tiniest hint of pleading in his tone that could have easily been missed if one didn't have as many years conducting interrogations as she had. It took a great deal for a proud man like him to ask for anything. Her curiosity warred with her good sense. She spun around on her heel to face the man again. With a single nod, she gave him permission to continue.

"My Rosie… did she… did she suffer?"

Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping. It was a question that she knew a hundred different parents would like to ask her. There had been many families she had been responsible for tearing apart. Some of them she still continued to feel remorse for; others, none at all. She regretted what happened to Rose Zeller, but not the part she played. The casting of the Avada to her heart was a mercy. After what the disgusting Snatchers did to her when they were instructed to leave her unharmed, she was left with no choice. The girl wasn't going to be good for anything else after that. Even her parents wouldn't have known what to do for her.

But, she couldn't be completely honest about that, could she? There were still plenty of people alive who believed that murder was murder was murder. No degrees, no exceptions. Because she ended the life of a woman who had only just begun, she was damned. Very few loved ones of those she'd killed over the years in her time as a loyal Death Eater ever spoke to her when she crossed their path. Usually they were too angry or too frightened to want to draw attention to themselves. She was thankful that this wasn't a conversation that she'd had to have often.

"She was not supposed to be harmed at all."

The lie dripped from her lips so easily. In truth, Rose was going to be harmed, but in a much different manner. Hermione had plans for a pretty, well-placed girl. She could have been a very valuable informant if the cretins hadn't mucked it all up.

"My orders were clear. She was to be picked up and brought to me unharmed. When she was brought in…"

Seeing the dignified older man's eyes fill with tears threatened to do her in. He didn't need to know the details, didn't need to know how she had been bleeding and no spell could stymie the flow. How she cried and begged for mercy. No parent needed to have that image of their child burned into their brains. Another lie wouldn't hurt him.

"It was an accident. She got caught up in the crossfire. She was dead before she knew what was happening."

Tiberius sighed, his shoulders drooping in an imitation of her earlier gesture. The relief he felt was written all over his face. Hermione could feel a little solace at that. Having to go the rest of his life believing his daughter was savagely murdered and died in great pain would eventually make him go mad. At least her lie could spare him that fate.

When he didn't ask her anything else, she turned back around to continue on the path. She didn't even make it another step before she looked over her shoulder at the wizard that hadn't moved.

"As punishment for their failures and for hurting your daughter, I made certain the two Snatchers died screaming."

The corner of his mouth twitched as if it wanted to smile. Peace fell over him.

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded once and resumed walking.