April 13th

Living with Augustus was too perfect. He was always attentive. There was raucous laughter and passionate moaning filling the silences. It was all too easy for Hermione to forget the outside world when she was inside his home. As the weather continued to warm and they braved the outdoors for long walks on the beach, she could almost imagine that they would be able to sustain their current lifestyle for the rest of their lives. No one would bother them. Neither of them would ever have to worry about coming face to face with their spouses again. Their children not only didn't matter, they didn't exist.

If she allowed herself to fall under his spell, she believed that it was possible to run away from their responsibilities and their commitments to start over a new life. Augustus never stopped talking about sneaking her out of the country. He'd grown weary of his existence too. There were entire continents they could explore. Even if they had to keep constantly on the move, at least they would be together. To him, the one who hadn't spent the better part of a year running for his life, it all sounded like one grand adventure. In the moment when he was animatedly describing their options, she would get excited, believe that maybe it would work. When she was alone with her thoughts, the crushing grip of reality returned.

She would stare at the words on the pages of the book she was supposedly reading to dissect every word he said. With him sometimes only centimeters away, she would dwell on his fantastical ideas. Despite the twenty-seven years he lived on the planet longer than she, there were times when he was nothing but a naïve child making plans that made no sense. He had grown too accustomed to a fairly easy life to want to throw it all away. The first time they had to sleep outside because there was no other shelter, he would give up. Determined to never have to feel the chill that he did when he was a prisoner in Azkaban, he kept his home hot enough that the occupants sometimes sweat because of the unbearable heat. A common desire amongst those who were imprisoned there, she'd gotten used to it living with Antonin. He was never more irritable than when he was cold.

Augustus had never gone without food for a long period of time. When his best memories and happiest feelings were being sucked away by the dementors, he had no appetite. His meager rations sufficed. Once he was away from their influence, he ate more than any two men combined. It was only the benefit of having excellent genes that kept him from blowing up to an enormous size. If he had to worry about where the next meal was coming from and when it was going to arrive, he might go mad. Much like Ron during that horrible horcrux hunt, he would struggle with hunger.

They weren't going to be able to keep living in the fantasy that all was right within their small sphere for much longer. The dream would splinter, the walls crumble. One could not exist entirely in their dreams without suffering the crushing fate of reality. As much as she was loathe to do so, Hermione knew that she needed to make a plan for her next move. Augustus would need to return to France; she would need to return to the unknown. Each second that she remained in the house of her former love, she needed to make the most of it, wrench from it whatever joy and pleasure she could. There would be no returning. The moment she walked out his front door again, she wouldn't ever be back.

Like most men she had had both the pleasure and the misfortune of knowing over the years, Augustus was oblivious to the changes in her thoughts. He wasn't even aware that she had more than just a passing concern that one day Antonin would show up on the doorstep again. No matter what she said to him, he would never be able to understand that she was running from more than just the embarrassed man she made a cuckold. Hurt feelings and petulant men were not the main issues. He didn't understand why she was so intent to run from the life that once upon a time she believed she was satisfied to keep living.

"Damn!"

Augustus' single word coupled with the hiss of pain she knew all too well explained why he threw the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet down on the living room floor. They had been experiencing such a pleasant afternoon. With nothing more than a swift kiss to her lips, he rushed out of the door in moments. His 'pop' of Apparition rang through the house.

The waiting was interminable. Without understanding why he was summoned by their master, there was no simple way to determine how long she could expect him to be gone. The shortest time she'd ever been away from home after feeling the burn of the Dark Mark on her arm was half an hour, but the longest time away from home was seventeen weeks. She was fortunate that Antonin wasn't summoned at the same time. Ollie was still quite small and while Mafalda was always the one to venture next door to collect him after they had to rush off to perform their duties, that was an awfully long time to impose upon their friend the care of their child.

She prepared herself for the very real possibility that Augustus was receiving orders that evening to return to France. The fact that he'd been able to stay as long as he had was impressive. Ordinarily, he was never allowed to remain longer than a week or two. She knew that Antonin was usually responsible for his short trips. A word here and there in the Dark Lord's ear often got him exactly what he desired. Lord Voldemort rewarded loyalty and few had proven themselves so thoroughly as Antonin.

If he didn't return to his house with twenty-four hours, Hermione was going to pack everything up and leave. Remaining there alone and unprotected wasn't a good idea. Not only did she have to worry about her husband, but thanks to the mistake she made stunning Aberforth Dumbledore, she had new and tenacious enemies. No doubt William Wood would place himself at the front of that mob. Too many people knew her history with Augustus. It wasn't safe to stay there on her own.

Keeping her mind occupied during the waiting was difficult. Reading was impossible. After every few sentences her eyes would dart back to the front door searching for a sign of his return. When the sun set in the sky and the house grew dark, she didn't even want to light any of the lamps. Seated at the kitchen table, she stared out the window at the ocean beyond, dreaming of what it would be like to climb in a boat and leave. Her eyes grew heavy as the night drew on. A long, hot shower and a cup of chamomile tea helped to induce a few yawns.

She continued her waiting in the bed that had become theirs. A notoriously light sleeper to begin with, Hermione would doze off for a minute or two only to jar herself awake at the slightest noise inside or outside the house. The clock on the nightstand next to the bed showed the time to be a little after eleven when the front door opened. Afraid at first to leap out of bed just in case it wasn't Augustus, she didn't budge. Only when the door to the bedroom opened to admit a weary, but still whole former Unspeakable did she relax.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

He leaned down to drop a kiss to her lips. She watched him undress without speaking. It was clear just by looking at him that he was exhausted. Whatever he'd been forced to endure for the previous several hours hadn't been pleasant.

"Why were you gone so long?"

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about, love. I'm home now."

Being dismissed was one of the worst feelings. Hermione hated to be left out. If there was nothing to worry about, he wouldn't have been been gone for so long and he wouldn't have felt the urge to keep quiet about his summons. Sitting up in bed, she glared at the wizard.

"What happened, Augie? You were gone a long time."

"It's not important."

Each time she demanded he answer her questions, he refused. She could feel her anger rise higher and higher. Why wouldn't he tell her anything? Perhaps she had gotten used to a certain dynamic in her marriage. As far as she could tell, her husband didn't keep secrets from her. Antonin told her all of the hard, scary truths. At times she knew more than she wanted to know, but he never kept anything from her. Part of her assumed that that was how all relationships were. Was Augustus unable to recognize the fact that she wasn't the young witch she used to be when they were first together? No longer was she the child locked up in the broom cupboard that he felt he had to protect from the nastiness of the post-war events in the castle. Even then she knew what was happening. He didn't have to spell it out in great detail, but she knew what the shrieks from the other women who didn't have the benefit of his protection meant.

Their voices raised to a loud level by the time she was done having the argument. If he was going to treat her like a child that couldn't be trusted with the truth, she refused to sleep alongside him in his bed. He shouted after her to stop. She ignored every plea as she stormed down the corridor to one of the empty bedrooms.