April 10th

Her life had become nothing more than waiting. It was growing tiresome to always be on the outside of things. Hermione knew that boredom was better in many ways than getting involved in all of the excitement she'd had before she ran. Though she knew that she was less likely to get killed in a violent manner hidden away in Augustus' house in Cornwall, it didn't make the waiting any easier.

Years of experience taught her that there was no way to tell for certain that a summons from the Dark Lord would end well. Often, they didn't. She couldn't be sure how many times over the years she arrived at a summons terrified that she would never leave. Many times. Several of her fellow Death Eaters had been killed in front of her eyes for some incompetence, perceived or otherwise. Even her safety as Lord Voldemort's favorite pet didn't always keep her safe from the Cruciatus Curse or fears that she would get worse. The uncertainty was how he kept tight control over his followers.

She worried about Augustus. Not just because he was still recovering. What if this was one of the few times that the Dark Lord bothered to use Legilimency on his Inner Circle? Their master might very well uncover the truth of her whereabouts. Augustus' Occlumency skills were dismal if they existed at all. When she used to tell him to work on that branch of magic, he would brush her off with assurances that he had nothing to hide. She never could seem to make him understand that it wasn't just the Dark Lord's inspections he should worry about. Plenty of others within their same circle were power-mad enough to force a rival's secrets out with Legilimency. Scruples hardly existed amongst them. It was every man for himself. Or herself, whichever the case may be.

And what would happen if he spoke with Antonin? He was foolish enough to walk straight up to her husband to ask him how the search for her was going. Maddening man. Antonin might not be a Legilimens, but he could always tell when someone was lying to him. It was a frustrating talent that he'd put to good use in their marriage. Something Augustus said or how he made eye contact or held his shoulders would make her husband suspicious. It was very likely that Antonin would follow Augustus home after the summons. She had to be prepared to run.

As the hours ticked on and the master of the house had still not returned, Hermione grew worried. She couldn't sit still long enough to read a single sentence. Sleep was entirely out of the question. Even if her body was exhausted, her mind wouldn't stop racing long enough to allow a moment's rest.

To keep herself occupied and in a vain attempt to make time speed up, she started to clean the kitchen. Augustus had been able to cast a stasis charm on his meal before he left, a trick many learned after years of countless interrupted suppers. The rest, however, Hermione cleared off the table. Out of respect for her personal feelings on the matter of house-elf slavery, he'd long ago sent his elderly house-elf to his home in France. He'd even promised her that he would never allow another one in his house in Cornwall again. Considering the thick layer of dust that covered much of the house, she knew he was keeping that promise. Wizards could so rarely see the dust they lived in and Mrs. Rookwood certainly didn't cross the Channel if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

At half-past four in the morning, Hermione heard the front door open. Dropping the rag she was using to dust off the picture frames hanging in the corridor, she rushed to see if it was him. If it wasn't, she had only a few seconds to run.

"It's just me, Hermione."

She closed the distance between them in a single heartbeat. Her earlier concerns that he wasn't well enough to answer a summons still had not abated. Running her hands over his arms and then his face, she stared at every inch she could see for visible wounds. He found her attentions amusing.

"Are you all right? You don't look injured."

"Just fine. I've always found the Cruciatus Curse to be quite refreshing if applied correctly."

His attempt at humor was not appreciated. She glared into his smirking face, willing herself not to slap it. Could he possibly understand how worried she'd been? Waiting around for hours, wondering if he would ever come home again, was torture. She didn't understand how the other wives, like Mafalda Yaxley, could do it so often without losing their minds. Those women had years of practice. She wasn't sure she'd last another hour.

"Don't make such horrible jokes. You're not funny."

The grin that rarely left Augustus' lips appeared once more. She hated how it made it so much harder to be mad at him. It wasn't fair. How was it possible that after thirteen years apart, he could still make her forget why she was cross? One of life's damnable mysteries, she supposed.

"Were you really worried about me?"

Hermione sighed once more in frustration. Either he was fishing around for a reassurance that she still felt something for him or he was growing dense in his advanced years. She had half a mind to ask him which one it was. Her patience was growing thin. Seeing him whole and unharmed lessened the strain she had been feeling. The exhaustion she was ignoring threatened to seep back in now that all had calmed down. Unable to meet his eyes out of fear of what she might see if she did, Hermione stared at the buttons on the front of his robes.

"Of course I was."

Two of Augustus' fingers placed under her chin gently forced her eyes to look up into his. The damned smirk that irritated her still graced his lips. She felt the urge to remove it by any means necessary. With her attention focused fully on him, Augustus dropped his hands to her shoulders. Everywhere his thumbs brushed through the fabric of her jumper erupted into goosebumps. Her heart rate increased. The pounding in her ears was all she could hear. How was it possible that one man could have such power over her?

His first kiss was confident, just as if he'd been kissing her for years and had no worry that she would push him away. Frozen as she was, she couldn't even if she wanted to. He'd always had a talent for making her forget why she was annoyed or upset. One dip of his practiced tongue inside her mouth and all of her concerns from earlier melted away. Antonin himself could walk through the front door and she wouldn't care.

They had both been very careful since she entered his home days earlier. It had always been too easy for them to get carried away, to get lost in the other. The physicality of their relationship had always been perfect. It was everything else that caused them grief. Perhaps realizing they were not only encroaching on forbidden territory, but making themselves right at home within it, Augustus was the one to break the kiss to catch his breath.

"I've been wanting to do that since you first walked in my door. Do you have any idea how difficult it's been to keep my hands off of you?"

"So stop trying."

Augustus responded to her simple statement with a deep growl in the back of his throat. His lips pressed hungrily against hers once more. Years seemed to disappear. Once again they were back in France alone for the first time and learning how to make the other pant and scream. Those days had been filled with pleasurable explorations that still made her cheeks burn and her stomach swoop with anticipation each time she recalled them.

She felt lightheaded and giddy from the attention. How many times since she was ordered to marry Antonin and Augustus was ordered to seek out his estranged wife had she dreamed of this moment happening again? Though she hadn't been faithful to her husband in the slightest once her son was born, she never once even entertained the possibility of carrying their relationship on behind their spouses' backs. Not only because he was in another country most of the time, but Hermione knew that her heart couldn't bear the strain of the promise of something that would never come to be. It was too difficult to pretend like they were together when they could never be.

Perhaps she would come to regret this moment of weakness later when it was all over. As the wizard led her over to the sofa without breaking his lips from hers once, she decided not to think about it just yet. There was no sense in entertaining it until there was something to be ashamed for. And by Merlin, she was ready to do more than a few shameful things that night. For thirteen years the past hung over them, waiting for a moment to strike, a moment to remind them both of all that they were missing.

Unable to make it even as far as the bedroom, Hermione sighed at the feel of Augustus' weight settling on top of her as she laid back on the sofa. She forced her thoughts of whether or not she was making a mistake out of her mind. This was not the time for thinking. It was the time for feeling.

Regret always came when it was ready. She didn't have to extend an invitation.