April 25th
Warmer temperatures brought a great number of visitors to the city of London. All day long it seemed that the tourists hailing from all parts of the globe filled the streets. Hermione felt a little more at ease wandering the streets when there were so many others around her to blend in with. Despite the constant danger she was in every single second that she spent outside exposed to unfriendly eyes, she enjoyed having the freedom to walk through the streets in relative anonymity.
In the Muggle world, she was no one. Just as she had been long ago before she knew what she was. Other than the constant nagging fear that someone amongst the crowd would recognize her, she felt like there wasn't a single person as far as her eyes could see that gave one single damn who she was or what she had done in her past. Most hardly even gave her a second's notice. If she tried to do the same anywhere in the wizarding world, she would be noticed in a heartbeat. She never felt like she could just wander through life with no cares or concerns. Someone was always watching, always judging, always waiting for her to make a mistake.
Once the checkout time for her hotel room arrived, Hermione had nothing else to do but walk. She understood the dangers. Understood and didn't care. It killed time. If she crossed the path of an enemy, she would deal with it when it happened. There was no sense in staying permanently cooped up inside a hole just counting her breaths. A person would go completely mad if they tried to sustain that sort of existence for too long. Logically, her best bet for not getting caught was to find an abandoned building or home and not leave it until absolutely necessary. During the harsh winter months, she had no issues with hiding indoors. With the milder weather, it seemed a sin to waste the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine.
Life had become even more exhausting than it already was with her self-imposed restrictions. It was truly no way to live. Something would need to change soon. Wandering around with no purpose other than to not be caught was also no way to live. Hermione was used to having a cause, a reason to fight. Whether it was for the freedom of house-elves, the fight to keep her best friend alive, the need to survive and make her enemies bleed, or simply to keep alive the regime she helped build, she had a purpose. Perhaps that was the most difficult part of her current situation. With no plan for the future, there was also no hope for the future.
She hadn't allowed herself to stop and feel sorry for herself for many years. There was a time in her life when the smallest action or harsh word would send her scurrying to the closest private area she could find to cry and wallow in her perceived misery. It was embarrassing to remember how often she used to cry. Hurt feelings and mortification weren't good reasons to break down. She would always be grateful for Antonin teaching her how to control her emotions. They might not have always seen eye-to-eye, but for the most part, he usually had her best interests at heart.
Even before they were married and their lives irrevocably linked, he'd strived to mold her into the perfect model of a Death Eater. He understood better than most that the world was cruel and filled with hatred and strife. If one did not conform to the new order, they would never survive. What might seem to be a complete undoing of her character was what helped keep her alive in a world that was determined to rid itself of people just like her. That was why she would never apologize to anyone who knew her in the past for the person she'd become. Everyone changed as they grew older. To not understand that very basic fact denoted a lack of experience in the ugliness of living or a lifetime spent sheltered from the harsher aspects of reality. If everyone remained exactly the same as they were while they were in school, what was the point of living? Growth and change were never-ceasing. One would continue until the very moment they died.
As night fell and London grew darker, she should have felt more ill at ease than she did in the daytime. Maybe she would have when she was younger and couldn't take care of herself. In that moment, she was grateful for the darkness. It was more exciting. Besides, her foul, pensive mood was better suited for a time that wasn't bright and cheery. The melancholy that first struck her when she was standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron hadn't yet gone away. There was always a chance that it never would. A representation of her childhood and her entrance into a new world was nothing but a hole in the ground. Pretty fitting, actually.
One of the best parts of being in a large city was the fact that it seemed like they rarely ever slept. Something was always happening no matter the time. Hermione wandered through the streets watching the various kinds of people going about their lives. Even an ordinary day like Wednesday could still be filled with excitement. For lack of anything better to do, she imagined what the people she saw were like. What were their families like? What did they fill their days doing? It seemed strange that there was another world right amidst the Muggles that they weren't even aware of.
A cluster of young men, likely university students, stumbled out of a busy pub. Though it wasn't even half past ten, each one of them was well on their way to being completely pissed. Hermione found their loud speech and inappropriate comments about the man who dared to throw them out of his establishment amusing. She found herself envious of them, of their complete ignorance and seeming lack of major responsibilities. What was that like? She had never been able to be completely free and relaxed. In the three years between Augustus foolishly deciding she would be happier with a wizard closer to her own age and when he finally got his head out of his arse, she'd had plenty of opportunities to give in to her baser desires. There had been nights filled with too much alcohol, illicit potions that would've gotten her a sentence in Azkaban if she hadn't possessed a Dark Mark, and more naked debauchery than most women experienced in at least three separate lifetimes. But, there had never been complete freedom. Always in the back of her mind existed the reminder that she could never be entirely at ease. She had to continuously worry about how her actions were perceived. As one of the few female Death Eaters, she could earn a great deal of respect the more depraved, the more licentious, more cruel she was, but a single shed tear or a cautious refusal could mark her as weak. She hated being considered weak above all else.
Her thoughts were so deep and intense that she made the first mistake of any fugitive on the run. She stopped paying attention to every single face within her line of sight. It was a simple rule. If she could see an enemy, they could see her. Pushing aside her jealousy and remembering that she didn't have the luxury of wandering aimlessly, Hermione began scanning the crowd of people for any potential threats. Almost immediately she felt relieved. No one seemed intent on causing her any harm. She took a deep breath and continued her walk.
Wanting to get away from the group of university students that were still making her quite jealous, she turned the corner at the first opportunity she could. Three steps down a darker street proved to be the absolute wrong decision to make. Her eyes landed instantly on a figure up ahead that seemed quite familiar. Convinced at first that she was just imagining bogeymen where they didn't exist, she took a fourth step. The person in question moved in her direction. Once he stood under the light of a lamp, Hermione felt her stomach twist into knots. Of all of the people she could possibly run into in London while she was alone, she didn't expect it to be William Wood.
She longed to curse the damned smirk that appeared on his face when he realized he'd been spotted. How was he able to find her exact location in a city so large? Fears that perhaps Draco had given him lessons in whatever tracking magic he utilized to find her wherever she went raced through her head. It would make sense if Draco wasn't truly on her side. She still hadn't figured him out yet. One second he appeared to be an ally, the next she felt a lingering doubt of his true intentions. In her experience, it wouldn't be a far stretch to imagine that he was teaching the brother of her first murder victim how to track her whereabouts down.
Neither of them were foolish enough to try to use magic in such a crowded area. It would bring too much attention on them if they did. Instead, she spun around in place and began running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. He quickly followed suit. She ignored the shouts from the upset Muggles as they ran through the streets. Her side ached with pain, but she couldn't stop. The risk was too high. This wasn't going to be a trial for her, a chance to plead her case or tell the real truth about the day Aberforth was arrested. Wood had a different agenda. If he caught her, she would be dead.
Only the sudden arrival of two concerned Muggle police officers halted the chase. Evidently, a man chasing a woman through the streets wasn't acceptable even in large cities. Wood's smirk quickly morphed into a scowl when the innocent Muggles demanded to know why they were running. Hermione could tell that he was weighing his options. Using magic might get him the results he desired, but at what cost? The Ministry of Magic was powerful in London. Knowing she had to think fast, she forced her eyes to fill up with tears. Turning to the kinder-looking of the two gentleman, she babbled out a lie.
"I don't know who this man is. I was walking to the tube and he started following me. When I told him to leave me alone, he wouldn't."
A gentle pat to the arm and a couple of "there there"s from the officer later and she was temped to accept the offer of pressing charges against her pursuer. Getting the Muggles involved in their squabble would only create complications she didn't need. Instead, she accepted the offer of an escort to the nearest tube station. When she was inside and convinced that William Wood wasn't near, she made the decision to leave the city. Now that she'd been seen, he would alert the entire Resistance that she was in London. She needed to be anywhere else.