April 2nd
Cornwall was perhaps the absolute worst destination for Hermione following her near escape from capture by her husband and his loyal goons. As foolish as she knew it was to run to the one place where she knew she would be suspected of running, her feet were landing on Cornish soil before she could do anything about it. In her haste, she allowed her magic to lead her somewhere else. Her heart, however, seemed to have no concern for her safety.
It was tempting to run straight to Augustus' house, bang on the door, and beg for shelter. Not only did she want to see with her own eyes that Draco had been telling the truth about his chance for recovery, she wanted to simply hear his reassuring voice. Emotions were weaknesses. That was a lesson she'd had to learn the hard way more times than she cared for. When the dust settled after the events from the previous day, Antonin was certain to make a trip to Cornwall to check if she'd arrived.
She didn't know where else to go. Before she'd gotten entangled with Draco and the Resistance, she existed just by staying on the move constantly. No longer did that seem like an attractive prospect. As much as she might have complained about being stuck in the village inside her tent for so long, having at least a modicum of stability had been nice. The thought of returning to an existence of just wandering from place to place with no set plan put her on edge. She wasn't sure that she had it in her to do that again.
There was a grove of trees not far from Augustus' house that could be used to hide in while she kept an eye on his house. Far enough away that they wouldn't immediately be suspected of being a refuge, they were close enough that she could see if anyone entered or left either the front or the back doors. She climbed up one of the trunks, grateful that at least some of the leaves were starting to return. Though not much, at least she could be somewhat partially concealed if anyone happened to look up.
She didn't trust herself to even try to use the cloaked magic again. A concealment charm would have been welcome. Her nerves, however, weren't up to trying. From the moment she stunned Aberforth Dumbledore and had to flee, she hadn't been able to sit still for longer than a few minutes. Summoning up the necessary relaxation required to cloak wasn't going to be possible. Even her hands still trembled. She would never feel guilt for what she did to the horrible man. He grabbed her arm and she would no longer suffer the indignity of being grabbed like that by a man without dire consequences being meted out. A woman had the right to defend herself from danger. She would never feel sorry for what she did. She might regret the consequences of her instinctive reaction to being grabbed, but she did not regret defending herself.
It had been a close call. There were a few other times in the previous months she knew that Antonin was close to catching her. That incident was the first time she had actually seen him. If she had been just a little slower, all would have been over. A small voice in the back of her mind whispering its taunts that maybe being caught would've been best for everyone clouded her thoughts. At least her problems would've been over. Or, they would've only just begun, she tried to remind herself in the rare moment of clarity.
Seeing her husband again brought up an influx of emotion that she hadn't expected. It was easier to imagine him being the monster of epic proportions that her addled and terrified mind made him out to be when he wasn't around. She could dwell on all the very worst qualities he possessed, all of the very worst memories of their life together. The sound of his laughter intermingling with hers as they laid in bed late at night going over the details of their day like any other mundane married couple was beginning to be a distant memory that might have even belonged to someone else. The tender touch of his hand was almost forgotten, only to be replaced with thoughts of the all of the times that he physically hurt her. Seeing him again, seeing his familiar eyes filled with what could only be described as concern made it harder to think only of the worst parts of her husband.
More than a few times in the past she wondered what might have happened if Augustus had never taken it upon himself to protect her cupboard. Pushing aside all concerns that she would have been violated like all of the other female captives were likely harmed at the end of the war, she wondered if real feelings for Antonin might have crept up on her if she didn't have Augustus in the background mucking it all up. Beyond her training and proving to those who doubted her that she was loyal to the regime, she only had Augustus. From the very beginning she attributed an unhealthy level of expectation on a mere mortal. If he hadn't been in the picture, maybe she could have seen her teacher in the light he longed for her to see him in.
He had too much pride to come right out and admit his feelings, but she'd always known how Antonin felt. That had been part of the cruel fun of taunting him. Because he was vocally against her relationship with the former Unspeakable, Hermione enjoyed rubbing it in his face. And when Augustus was a complete idiot and ended their relationship for a ridiculous reason that didn't even make sense, she knew the other wizard was pleased, hoping that that would give him his chance to swoop in to claim her for his own. She resented his joy even if he was careful about concealing it. So in retaliation, she continued to upset him by inviting other men into her bed in the room next to his. Forced to listen to depraved acts that she knew he would like to perform with her, he'd grown even more difficult to live with.
If their relationship had been allowed to grow and develop without Augustus' constant presence, maybe they would've even been able to find true happiness together. Certainly they made more sense than she did with Augustus. They had more in common when it came to interests and personality traits. Each of them had the same thirst and desire to prove themselves. Their ambition to rise to the top was unmatched by anyone else. Hermione used to wish that Antonin had been the one who took it upon himself to station himself outside her broom cupboard. Maybe life would have been less complicated. Maybe their eventual marriage would've been happier and filled with less violence.
But, there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the past and the 'what-ifs'. She could dream about how life would have been different, but she couldn't say for certain that she would've been correct. Given a time turner and the ability to change the past, she wouldn't have gone back to change her relationship with her husband. She would've gone back to when Albus Dumbledore was still alive and uncursed to tell him the locations of the horcruxes. Maybe that could've made the difference. Or everything would have happened exactly as it had.
She stared off in the distance towards the house that had once held so many happy memories of clandestine meetings and long, lazy weekends. Her relationship with Augustus was one of the few aspects of her past that gave her any joy. Whatever the pain and heartache she'd experienced with the wizard when the visits to Cornwall were no longer possible had been worth it. Even if she never felt it again, at least within the walls of that home she had once felt loved.
There was nothing left to do but wait to see if anyone showed up at his house. Antonin would be there in a second if he suspected that she might make her way back. She had to be careful, had to stay out of sight until she positive that the coast was clear.