March 29th

No one had any information about what really happened in London. Or if they did, they couldn't be arsed to care whether or not Hermione knew. As soon as she left Lee's shed the evening before, she walked around the village, ignoring the laughter and joyful voices of her fellow residents. Never before had she felt so distant, so other, from the people she lived amongst. What happened at the Leaky Cauldron was a cause for celebration in their minds. She cared about too many people who were likely there to even consider the potential positive ramifications of the attack.

There had been other successful Resistance campaigns in the past. Many of her former comrades had been killed over the years because occasionally the rabble got something right. Once, when she was heavily pregnant with Ollie and in Diagon Alley finishing up the shopping that is always necessary when a new baby is set to arrive, there had been an explosion in one of the apothecary shops. Initially believed to be a terrible accident in the back room that served at a laboratory, further investigation uncovered an elaborate bomb in the cellar made entirely with Muggle materials. Someone within the so-called benevolent Resistance dirtied their hands with innocent blood.

Four people were killed that day, including a small child belonging to Marcus Flint. Up until that point, the former Slytherin Quidditch Captain hadn't made the decision to throw his lot in completely with the Dark Lord. He'd been a simple citizen, just trying to make it in the new world with his nose clean. Unimaginable grief and anger of epic proportions emboldened him enough to throw his body at the feet of their master and declare his unending allegiance. From that day on, he had been one of the most vicious Death Eaters alive.

Antonin's response to learning she was present the day of the bombing was to forbid her from leaving the village until the baby was born. She'd been set to argue with him until the stress of the day's events put her in St. Mungo's. Her Healer was the one to make the final decision that she remain on strict bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy. At least he'd saved them the inevitable row. Hermione did as she was ordered.

Knowing how close his family had come to being injured or worse, Antonin made it his mission to secure Diagon Alley. His position as the Dark Lord's veritable Right Hand meant he had unlimited power to achieve his goals. It was an embarrassment to the regime to discover that they had been bested by Muggle technology. A new department was created within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to solely deal with the search for Muggle bombs and weapons within public areas throughout the country. They were all proud to state that there had not been an attack on the civilian population in Britain since that day. All further attacks were confined to purely Death Eater related strongholds and raids.

Hermione wasn't sure if any of the victims from the explosion of the Leaky Cauldron had been innocent bystanders caught up in the violence of an attempt at revolution. Considering how popular an establishment it was, the chances were very likely. Even if there had been a large gathering of Death Eaters inside one of the back rooms, there were still potentially guests in the upstairs rooms or passersby on the street outside. Many citizens accessed Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron. The Resistance was amplifying its aggression, not caring who it hurt in the process. Perhaps they were of the opinion that the ends justified the means.

If there had been more news about the incident uncovered in the time that she left Lee's shed and the next evening when she could hardly sit still inside her tent, she was unaware. No one was likely to come seek her out to let her know the extent of the carnage. As long as she lived amongst the Resistance, it must have been assumed that she had completely turned her back on her former life. Or, maybe more likely, there were those who enjoyed leaving her in the dark. There were always those who got a smug sense of satisfaction out of using their limited power to make those they despised miserable. It was also possible that they were too busy celebrating their good fortune and successful campaign to give her fears a moment's thought.

Draco hadn't returned to the village. She thought that he would be back at the first chance that he could. More than a few times when they had time alone to speak she told him how much she hated being left out. She might not have always wished to know what was happening out in the real world, but she didn't appreciate when everyone around her had knowledge that she didn't. It wasn't as easy to pretend that everything was fine when she saw the faces of the Resistance members practically giddy with excitement. If he hadn't returned, it was possible that he was one of the fatalities.

She wasn't sure how she would feel if that turned out to be true. Their relationship, for lack of a better term, had certainly evolved since the night he startled her inside the Muggle's house for the first time. Maybe they weren't exactly friends, but she thought they were at least working up to that. He seemed to legitimately care whether or not she became a spy. With his own eyes, he'd witnessed what happened to those who tried and were unsuccessful. As strange as it sounded, she'd gotten the impression that he might actually care what happened to her. Finding out he was dead would be a complication she didn't want to imagine.

Unable to just sit around the tent or pace up and down the canvas space, she headed outside. Pushing aside all fears that she could be attacked alone in the dark, she set out for Tiberius Zeller's house. If the one person she was certain would know about Draco's fate was about, he would be skulking around outside.

The moment Rodolphus saw her approach the back garden, he found a dark place between two hedges to transform. He didn't waste any time at all encouraging her to meet him in his hiding place. Though their interactions in recent days had become cold and even uncomfortable, the animagus seemed determined to put that aside for the time being.

"Have you heard anything from Draco?"

Few times in her long acquaintance with Rodolphus had she heard such desperation in his voice. He was always a man who could remain calm and collected in even the most trying of circumstances. To know that he was worried for his nephew was both heartwarming and frustrating. Clearly, he would have no information to give her.

"No, I was coming to see if you had."

Rodolphus ran both of his hands through his hair, an obvious indicator of frustration.

"He was supposed to bring me a report last night. I waited at our usual meeting spot for over three hours."

Hermione feared the worst. Very little would keep him from a scheduled rendezvous with his uncle. Between the two of them, they provided the Resistance with a great deal of important intelligence. It was even possible that reports that Draco had given were used to ensure his own demise. She shook her head, willing any further negative thoughts out.

"I'm going to London. I'm not coming back until I know for certain."

Moments after his harried declaration, Rodolphus transformed back into his Saint Bernard form. Hermione watched the creature bounce away on his oversized paws into the darkness. She wanted to follow him, wanted to leave too. Answers she wanted wouldn't be found within the village. Sneaking out of the Zellers' back garden, she weighed her options. Leaving put her in danger, but staying might drive her mad. By the time she reached her tent, she made the decision to stay for one more day. Maybe more news would come tomorrow.