April 8th

Following her rather dramatic exit over breakfast, Augustus gave Hermione the space she needed for the rest of the day. Using the excuse that his potions made him sleepy, he disappeared into his bedroom while she continued to do what she could to calm her nerves. A long walk along the water didn't help in the slightest. All the fresh air did was remind her again of how small she was in the vast, dangerous world.

The gnawing guilt in her gut that she was to be the reason why the last member of the proud Dumbledore family met their end would not abate. It was funny to her that there were people she had actually been responsible for killing who gave her less anxiety than the man who simply got caught up in the accident that was her life. He was just the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. Of course, she reminded herself when the guilt became suffocating, if he hadn't grabbed her arm so roughly, she wouldn't have had cause to curse him in the first place.

After the terrible incidents of that day, the Resistance would never want anything to do with her again. While that would ordinarily make her happy, she knew that the situation was much worse than it had been before. She knew it looked bad. Only a few within the ranks of the organization knew that he had been giving her lessons to cloak her magic. Learning that she was alone with Dumbledore when a large number of Death Eaters, including her own husband, showed up didn't look good. It was easy to see how they could jump to the conclusion that it was all a setup.

She might be able to convince Ginny Weasley that it had all been an accident. They might not have gone into great detail about the reasons why she was running from her husband, but she thought there might be enough of their old friendship, their old affection for each other, that she might be willing to listen to what she had to say. If she listened to the lies that William Wood was likely whispering in her ears at every turn, that might become an impossible task.

Augustus was right. She was now at the top of their most hated enemies list. In their eyes, she betrayed them after they gave her shelter and the assurance that as long as she was within their village she was safe. To pay them back by luring one of their own out of the protective enchantments and calling for her comrades was unforgivable. It didn't matter that none of it was the least bit true. What seemed to be fact was more often accepted as fact when the reality was more difficult to explain. If their paths crossed again, which she rather thought they probably would, she would be in even more danger than before.

As if she needed life to get any further complicated. She had been sharing a bed for several days with the man who'd broken her heart years earlier. Still doing nothing more than just sleeping next to the other, she knew that they would not be able to keep the dynamic up much longer. Something would have to change whether they wished it to or not. It was tempting to imagine that she could somehow go back in time and pretend like nothing was wrong, but she wasn't that naïve. Nothing would ever be the same. They continued to skirt around the topic of the future as much as possible. When Augustus wasn't sleeping due to the potions he was still having to take, they passed the time making as inconsequential conversation as possible. Neither of them wanted to be the one who brought up the difficult topic first.

Following another simple dinner prepared by his house guest, Augustus wasn't ready to go back to bed. His convalescence was making him grow irritable. If he had to spend another minute in bed longer than he had to, he complained that he would go completely mad. Instead of breaking apart after the meal was over as they had every other night, he suggested they both enjoy the evening air in the back garden together. Truthfully, Hermione was slightly annoyed at the suggestion. She'd been looking forward to doing nothing more substantial than curling up with one of his books in front of the fireplace that had to always be lit. The chances of them bringing up a topic she wasn't prepared to discuss grew higher each moment they spent in the other's presence.

He would not be deterred. Not even by very valid concerns that someone might be watching the house to see if he had any unexpected visitors. They had been fortunate that no one saw Hermione take a stroll the day before. It wasn't wise to take too many chances. Only when he promised that they would be well-shielded from anyone not in possession of an effective invisibility cloak did she relent. Seated outside in the cool night air, no one was in a rush to break the spell of silence. After several minutes, Augustus, just like he used to, couldn't remain silent any longer.

"It's been wonderful having you here."

"I've stayed too long. I should go."

There seemed no reason to delay the inevitable discussion any longer than necessary. Augustus didn't have the strength to argue. She could recognize in his countenance when he was too tired for something. It was the same it had always been when they both knew a massive row was about to begin. People changed over time, but not entirely. Just as there still existed some remnants of the idealistic girl she once was tucked deep inside of her, she knew that some of the man he'd once been was still there too.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Where would you go?"

She didn't have a plan. Not a single idea where to go next. The thought of just wandering aimlessly around the country again made her sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure she had the heart or the fortitude to try that venture again. With the Resistance hell-bent on taking her down now that she was deemed responsible for the loss of one of their most beloved leaders, she would be in even more danger than she was previously. At least before she got entangled in the mess of the Resistance thanks to Draco and Augustus' meddling, she hadn't been an active target of theirs as long as she stayed out of Edinburgh and their corner of Devon. She wouldn't be surprised to learn that they were now actively seeking out her location to punish her for her misdeeds.

"Augustus!"

The shrill shriek of an angry woman from inside the house startled them both. It had been a pleasant evening, hardly any sounds at all beyond the wildlife in the area and the continuous crashing of the waves. Hermione leapt to her feet, worried that she was about to be discovered. Only when the voice shouted again did Augustus roll his eyes and stand up.

"If you'll excuse me, my dear, I believe my darling wife is in the fireplace."

Over the years that she was in the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters, there had been only a handful of times that Hermione was forced to be in the same room with Violetta Rookwood. If it had been left up to Augustus' estranged wife, they would've never met. She would've preferred that her wretch of a husband remain in England as far away from the home she'd created with some of her distant relatives in France. The pain and humiliation of uncovering her husband's traitorous activities so many years earlier had been difficult for the horrid woman to bear. Hermione felt a modicum of sympathy for what the woman likely had to endure. That is, she did up until the point where the harridan referred to her as her 'husband's little whore'. Any opportunity that the women would find common ground after that moment became impossible.

Chip away at the surface of any marriage and one is bound to find complications they didn't expect. Even those marriages that seemed so perfect on the outside had their dirty, little secrets behind closed doors. Her marriage with Antonin was no different. The Rookwoods, however, were a bit more complicated than most. Unable to get a divorce from her husband while he was locked up in Azkaban, Violetta simply moved on with her life in France waiting for him to die. Few people lived long under the continuous torture of the dementors. It had been something of a disappointment when she learned that not only had her husband survived fifteen years in the notorious wizarding prison, but that he was able to escape. She'd hoped that the war would kill him. Imagining her disappointment when Augustus was forced to reclaim her as his wife under the Dark Lord's strict orders made Hermione laugh. Unless the woman wished to find herself a personal enemy of Lord Voldemort himself, she had no choice.

She considered standing at the crack in the open door to eavesdrop on the conversation Augustus was having with his wife, but stopped herself. It was none of her business. She wouldn't appreciate it if the roles were reversed and Antonin's head was sticking out of the fireplace. Whatever they had to discuss was private.

Several minutes passed before Augustus stormed out of the door with a glass of fire whiskey in one hand and the entire bottle in the other. Hermione's first instinct was to take the whiskey away from him. With the amount of potions he was still taking, it wasn't safe to mix with alcohol. But, she stopped herself. Not only was he thundering mad, it wasn't her place to tell him to do anything. If he wanted to kill himself, that was his decision. She didn't have the right to nag him anymore.

"Wretched bitch! Not a single word when she learns I was almost killed. Not even an owl. But the moment her vault starts to run low?"

He knocked back the rest of the glass in a single swallow. Hermione didn't respond to his rant. She didn't know what to say and feared that if she said anything, they would end up arguing with the other who had the worst spouse. Most of what happened behind closed doors in the Dolohov house was private and unknown by anyone who wasn't present. She suspected that if Augustus knew half of what had gone on over the years, his lifelong rivalry with Antonin would get a great deal less friendly.

"I still wish we'd been allowed to get married. Can you imagine how much different our lives would've been?"

Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him that she thought it would be a mistake. Instead, they passed the rest of the evening in companionable silence only occasionally broken up with inane conversation about trivial topics. It was safer that way.