March 30th

Still no one came by Hermione's tent to tell her which Death Eaters were killed in the explosion even days after the fact. They were all still too busy celebrating their victory to consider what the lack of viable information was doing to her already frazzled brain. She hadn't slept more than an hour at a time since she heard Lee's first broadcast. Shutting her mind off long enough to rest was an impossibility. Too much to think about.

And every noise, real or imagined, inside or outside her tent sent her running to find out if Draco was finally going to return to relieve her of her misery. He had all the answers she sought. Seeing him again, learning that her one potential ally in the whole fucked-up village she lived in was whole and unbroken would do wonders for her psyche. The waiting was unbearable, maddening.

Rodolphus hadn't returned either. Knowing the tenacity of that wizard on a first-hand basis meant that she understood he would not be back until he knew everything. Not only would he seek his nephew, he would linger long enough to discover what he could. Few, even amongst the Death Eaters, knew about his special skills. It was incredible the amount of knowledge he would uncover posing as a friendly dog.

She tried to ignore the sinking fear that the longer Rodolphus was away, the worse the news when he finally came back was apt to be. Tried and failed miserably. Long experience amongst the Death Eaters taught her that no news was decidedly not good news. Preparing herself for the very real possibility that he would have nothing good to tell her if he even returned became a priority.

Thoughts of Antonin's fate annoyed her more than they concerned her. Their relationship had always been complicated. She would never make a foolish declaration that she had ever been in love with him. She hadn't. Feelings might have existing that were difficult to place and she might admit to feeling a kind of love for him, if and only if pressed. What sustained their marriage for so long was a mutual sense of respect and orders from their master. Left to make her own choices, Hermione would probably still be flitting from random bed to random bed trying to block out the screams and memories that kept her mind continuously flooded. Maybe she would already be dead, a victim of her own poor decisions. There had been a few nights in her past she could hardly remember because of her thirst for illegal potions or because of the curses shot at her by angry wives.

Antonin, as much as she hated to admit it even to no one but herself, was the biggest reason she was still around, still capable of running away. He might have hurt her physically more than anyone else ever had, but he was far from being the person who'd hurt her the most. That was an honor reserved for an infuriating wizard with a fondness for mystery novels who she knew would never leave his wife. Not even to run away with the witch he claimed to love to start a new life somewhere else.

Hermione pulled at her curls, willing her thoughts to turn from Augustus. It was easier to not think of him, to imagine he'd been nothing but a pleasant dream she'd been forced to wake up from. Antonin was the one who kept her alive when so many in their world were of the opinion she was nothing but a worthless enemy. He taught her how to survive, how to thrive in an environment that was so foreign to all she'd ever known. It would've made more logical sense to fall for him instead of the wizard who disappointed her at every step. Love, it seemed, was an emotion that didn't require sense.

Not knowing the fates of either man was driving her mad. She longed for nothing more than to see Draco waltz through the tent flap to set her mind at ease with more details of what happened in London. For a reason she couldn't fathom, it was easier to push aside worries that Draco had been killed. Of course she knew that it was a possibility. Even working alongside the Resistance for years wasn't a guarantee that he would be spared from becoming collateral damage in one of their terroristic acts. There was always a chance that he was the one who caused the explosion. She didn't want to imagine that he was so entrenched in the Resistance that he would willingly die for it.

But, just because she found it easier to push away worries about Draco didn't mean they didn't have a nasty habit of finding their way back to haunt her. Against her better judgement, she'd somehow managed to develop something akin to an affection for her former classmate. Suddenly, it mattered whether or not he was dead. Only months earlier she wouldn't have had a single moment's worry about his fate. Strange how much could change in such a short time period.

The swirl of worries and fears in her mind threatened to make her sick. Hermione knew that if she spent another moment inside the tent just waiting she would only make herself worse. She needed some fresh air. At least that might convince her that she was doing something except standing around. Idleness wasn't helping.

She didn't stray far from her tent. Draco's wards only extended a few meters in every direction. Just far enough that she could stretch her legs and little else. If she had been thinking clearly, she would've realized much sooner that the very fact that the wards concealing her tent from the rest of the village hadn't come crashing down was a good sign that Draco was still alive. Most wards of the kind that he used wouldn't survive long past the caster's death. She calmed down only slightly. If he was alive and hadn't come back to the village, there could be an even more sinister explanation. Could he have been discovered as a frequent associate of the Resistance? Perhaps the very reason he was still gone was because he was dragged to the feet of their master to face his punishment.

Only the sudden arrival of Ginny Weasley to the usual Apparition point outside of the village pulled her attention away from her increasingly terrifying thoughts. Draco could very well be in the dungeons of the castle being tortured for all of his secrets. He could at that moment be confessing to aiding her in her fugitive state. Or even telling Antonin exactly where he could find his intractable wife. If it was possible, Hermione was even thankful that her former friend chose that moment to return. It gave her a chance to seek out answers, to feel like she was doing something.

"Yes, Hermione? What do you want?"

Ginny didn't seem the least bit surprised by the other witch suddenly crossing her path. Perhaps she had been expecting this moment. It wasn't unreasonable to imagine that Hermione would assume she had more information than anyone else.

"Who died at the Leaky Cauldron?"

The red-haired witch sighed and stopped in her tracks. Spinning on her heel to come face to face with Hermione, she sighed a second time in as many seconds.

"We still don't know. Lestrange is usually the one who finds those details out for us, but no one's seen him for days."

"He went to London to look for Draco."

"Of course he did." A third sigh escaped her mouth. "Draco hasn't been seen either. Details about the explosion are being kept pretty guarded right now. No one is talking. We think there's fear that the public will panic. Makes us think that one of the fatalities was high-ranking."

Hermione's stomach sank. Yes, it would be like the regime to not share everything with the ordinary witches and wizards. Especially if one of the Dark Lord's favorites was amongst the killed. She thought the possibility that her husband or her former paramour were dead highly likely. Closing her eyes, she willed away the dread that plagued every cell.

"Oh dear. Upsetting news?"

She did not have the energy to deal with William Wood. Every interaction with him was fraught with tension. Hermione looked forward to the day that she could walk away and never have to see the horrid man again. When she opened her eyes, she met his. He seemed amused.

"Worried that your little mates were killed the other night, are you?"

Ginny hissed at Wood to stop, but the damage had already been done. There was nothing further to be gained from spending a single second in either of their presences. She wouldn't get her answers. As she watched the redhead drag her ex by the arm and away from the immediate area, she knew she had to learn how to fully cloak her magic as soon as possible. She needed out of the village.