April 9th

Augustus' injuries were almost completely healed. Or, perhaps more likely, he was stubborn enough to make it seem like he was all right. He continued to drink his potions like prescribed. When the weekend ended and Monday morning came about, he was even responsible enough to go to St. Mungo's for a checkup. He might have made off-color jokes about hoping the Healers would be kind enough to clear him for vigorous activity, but Hermione knew him well enough to know that he was nervous.

She wished she could go with him, if for no other reason than to provide him with emotional support. All of the details of his injuries were still being closely kept to his chest. He claimed he didn't want her to worry. No matter how many times she told him that not telling her only made her imagine scenarios that were much worse than reality, he still wouldn't budge. Some secrets would never be revealed no matter how hard one tried. She only hoped they weren't the kind of secrets that would go to the grave with him.

Sitting alone in his house waiting for him to return put Hermione in a melancholic mood. She didn't care for the helplessness that always accompanied the need for patience. Action was better. The biggest reason why she had been so enthusiastic to join all of the most dangerous missions was because she was afraid of missing out on the excitement. Many of the witches who'd joined the Death Eater ranks after the war had been grateful for the Dark Lord's orders that his most loyal followers marry and have children. Those who found the lifestyle a little too demanding were glad to have a very valid reason to slow down and stay out of the worst parts of the violence.

Hermione couldn't understand those witches. She hated them and resented them for their cowardice. Being forced to stay at home raising a family sounded like nothing but torture to her ears. Far from being the domestic type, she resented the fact that because she was a woman and capable of producing children for the next generation of the regime, she was at risk of losing all that she'd worked hard for. Thankfully, she was allowed to be one of the very last of his Inner Circle to marry. On their wedding night, before she allowed a single touch of her skin, she made Antonin promise her that he wouldn't demand she stay at home to mind the children.

"If I wanted a boring, little wife who didn't want to fight at my side, I wouldn't have picked you, would I?"

Up until that moment, she hadn't believed that Antonin had a romantic bone in his entire body. She enjoyed showing him her appreciation for his statement in a number of creative and enjoyable ways that night. Despite it being forced upon her, that was the first time she considered the fact that maybe being Madam Dolohov wasn't going to be as terrible as she thought. She'd since learned that she was both correct and wrong. Marriage was even more complicated than she'd imagined.

Augustus returned late in the afternoon in high spirits. For the first time since she showed up on his doorstep, he crossed over the invisible line to press his lips against hers. The kiss lasted only about a second and had hardly any heat at all behind it, but it was a noticeable change in their interactions. Hermione hated how her cheeks flushed at what had once been second nature. She used to take his kisses for granted, begrudgingly accepting them even when she was annoyed.

Over dinner, he told her that the Healers were satisfied with how he was healing. Some of the potions he was ordered to take were no longer necessary. It was clear to tell that he had been given welcome news at St. Mungo's. She knew that he had been dreading the moment he was examined. Perhaps something more would be found. Most of his injuries had been internal. The black cloud hanging over his head began to dissipate. With each word that came out of his mouth, he became more and more like her Augustus of old. His joy was infectious. She was glad. Much of her day had also been spent in dread that he would get bad news.

"I'm almost cleared for portkey travel. The Healers said maybe another week."

His announcement was less welcome. Hermione knew that the only reason why he was still in the country was because there was concern that some of his injuries would be aggravated if he tried to use a portkey. The only reason he would need to use a portkey was to return to France. She laid her fork down beside her plate, her appetite gone. Instead of ruining his good mood, Augustus' announcement only made him smile wider. He reached across the small table to take her hand in his.

"Come with me."

Hermione's eyes shot up from where his hand was touching hers to look into his face. There was no hint of a joke. He was serious. How many times had she longed to hear him make the same offer? It should have made her excited, should have made her finally see a light at the end of the dark tunnel she'd been traveling in for way too long. Using his Ministry-approved portkey to get to France with him would be dangerous. Portkeys were almost impossible to get and heavily monitored. Suppose they made it to France, then what?

She had more questions than answers. Each second that ticked by without her agreeing to his suggestion filled the room with an uncomfortable tension. His smile was slipping. Though he knew her well enough to know that she could never just jump into a decision without thinking over all of the possibilities first, Augustus also knew her well enough to know when she wasn't sold.

"From France, we can go wherever you want. Anywhere. I have a friend in MACUSA. They'd be willing to let us in if I just asked. No one could follow us there. Not even Antonin."

The thought of fleeing to the United States filled Hermione with a terror that she couldn't put a name to. Yes, they would be relatively safe there from the Dark Lord's reach. Getting into the country for a witch or wizard wasn't the issue. Being allowed to stay was. Not that she could blame them really. They had enough problems in their own borders. Inviting the inevitable violence that would come with high ranking Death Eaters on the run would be foolish. Augustus' friend might be able to get them inside the country temporarily, but it wouldn't take long before someone in MACUSA demanded they be returned. Their punishments when they got back wouldn't be worth any amount of stolen joy they might have been able to wring from the short period of time they were together

"Augie, I don't…"

"There are hundreds of other countries we can choose. We should've done it years ago."

"Augie…"

Anything else she might have been about to say was cut off by sharp hisses from both of them. The Dark Lord was calling to his most faithful. It had been several weeks since Hermione last felt her Dark Mark burn. She'd been too nervous to ask Draco or Augustus why that might be. Had the Dark Lord given up on her? Or had he been too weak to activate everyone's Marks? More than a few times in the time leading up to her escape from Hogsmeade, her husband had been summoned to the castle by owl.

Pausing their serious discussion about their futures for the moment, Augustus rose to his feet. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Seconds later he was out the door. The pop of Apparition filled her ears.

She worried that whatever was happening wasn't going to be good. Even if it was a simple gathering, she didn't think he was physically up to making such a long trip to Scotland. No longer did their master call them to meet him in overgrown cemeteries. If he strayed further from the castle than Hogsmeade in the last five years, Hermione certainly wasn't aware. There was a reason why her husband believed they needed to make provisions for the future. The Dark Lord was dying.

Her appetite left out the front door with Augustus. As she settled in to spend the long hours of the night waiting for him to return, her mind traveled to all of the worst case scenarios possible. She wouldn't be able to think clearly until he was back over the threshold once more.