April 26th

It had been a close call with William Wood. Too close. Hermione berated herself yet again for her carelessness. What would have happened if the kind Muggle police officers hadn't shown up just at the right time? She hated to think how close she was to the cretin being able to harm her. All of her troubles for almost a year would have been for nothing.

She couldn't exactly blame the wizard for his anger or his desire to see her dead. It was a common enough response for those whose loved ones she had been at least somewhat responsible for ending. She was under no delusions that there wouldn't be a long queue of people anxious to murder her given the chance with no repercussions. Fear kept most of them in line. It was a powerful tool, one she'd used many times over the course of her life. There had been a time that the mere threat of seeing her face alone in a room of the Ministry was one of the greatest terrors a citizen could have. Her reputation was well-earned.

Early on in her career as a Death Eater, it was discovered that she had a gift for getting the reluctant to speak. Antonin's training had unlocked a set of skills she hadn't even known she possessed. Used a couple of times out in the field to the delight of the Dark Lord, a position was found for her within the Inner Circle. She was, of course, resented at first, but in time, most saw how valuable she could be to their regime. Eventually, she was ordered to devote her time to working with the Ministry to improve their own information gathering procedures. She was considered an expert in her field.

So, it was no wonder that she managed to procure a large number of enemies. It came with the territory. She would never apologize for her actions. They were necessary in the moment. Thanks to her hard work, she had been successful in rooting out traitors and those whose intent was to tear down what had been built. Survival wasn't always clean and simple. Sometimes, one had to get their hands dirty in pursuit of progress. A lot of people in their world didn't understand that. They operated under the painfully naïve impression that everything good simply fell into place without the need to do any hard work. She hated them.

The first chance she could after narrowly escaping Wood's clutches was to risk further exposure by buying a train ticket out of the city. Not for the first time, she was thankful that her path crossed Kingsley Shacklebolt's early on in her days as a fugitive. He was able to use his connections in the Muggle world to get her an acceptable form of identification. It wasn't just her world that had grown suspicious and dangerous. Even the Muggles had to worry about violence and those around them pretending to be someone they weren't. Her forged identification kept her from being forced to use confundus charms on the unsuspecting Muggles as she had done in the past. Perhaps one day she would be able to thank the former auror personally for keeping her out of unnecessary bother.

Her destination wasn't important. It only mattered that she get far away from the city. Almost at random, she picked a city she'd had almost no experience with. For whatever reason, in her career, she had never been forced to conduct a raid anywhere within the city of Aberdeen. Maybe that could be a considered a good sign that there weren't many witches or wizards there. Besides, she didn't think anyone would expect her to return to Scotland. Not only was that where her husband and her master both resided, she'd almost been unable to make it out the last time she was there. The very reason why she shouldn't go to Scotland was the very reason she did.

Never had a train ride seemed so long before. She had plenty of trips in her past. None of them felt so tedious. She wasn't sure what the difference was. Perhaps she was waiting for another crisis to pop up. What would it be like to return to a time and place where she wasn't fearful and anxious every single second of the bloody day? Staring at some of the other travelers around her filled her with a gnawing envy that would not lessen. When was the last time they had to worry about a faceless stranger in the crowd murdering them? Had they ever been forced to witness a loved one killed before their very eyes? Maybe a few had. Muggles could be just as violent in their wars with other Muggles.

She began to regret her decision to not even try to leave the country with Augustus. Saying 'no' to her former lover seemed like the sensible answer at the time. How he would even be able to accomplish such a task seemed impossible at that point. There was always a chance that he had connections and skills she didn't know anything about. After all, thirteen years was a long time apart. Likely, they weren't even the same people they were before he was ordered to track down his wife. Hermione certainly felt like the woman she used to be was a practical stranger.

Running with Augustus was never going to be a good idea, she finally managed to convince herself of again. Her reasons for refusal were valid and well thought-out. They hadn't changed since she first uttered her decision to not run. Assuming they were even able to make it out of the country with no issues, it wouldn't take long before their plans came crashing down around them. But, no matter how much she reminded herself that letting him go was necessary, she still missed him. It would've been better for both of them if she'd never gone to Cornwall. All she'd managed to do was muck everything up with her presence. Just like she always did.

Without even registering consciously what she was doing, Hermione's hand slipped into the bag she carried in her pocket. Her mind clutched at thoughts of Augustus while her hand sought out the wilted, crushed bluebell she'd been carrying around for months. One of her first cloaked spells she had been successful at casting halted its decay, but it was already far gone at that point. It served as a reminder of the past that could no longer exist.

When their relationship was new, they both enjoyed sneaking around. It never occurred to either of them at the time that everyone within the Inner Circle knew what they were up to. They imagined they were so clever that no one could figure out they were much more than just friends. Entire weekends were spent in Cornwall in and out of his bed. They enjoyed taking long walks near the water's edge and through the rest of the picturesque countryside. He asked her once a silly question, an attempt to get to know the girl she had once been.

"I imagine you were the perfect, little swot who never got into a single bit of trouble when you were at Hogwarts."

His statement had taken her so off-guard that she couldn't help but laugh. For an intelligent man who once studied the very mysteries of magic as an Unspeakable, he could not be any further from the truth. At war with being either offended by her laughter or charmed by it, Augustus didn't know how to respond. Taking pity on him, Hermione leaned up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. Very little could not be forgiven with a kiss.

"I'm afraid you would be very wrong. I was often in trouble. Or at least, in danger of it if any of the professors were aware of what I was doing."

He seemed to struggle to believe her at first. A smirk crossed his lips that she'd seen a few times before when he thought he was hearing an exaggeration.

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not sure I believe you. What could you have possibly done? Snuck out after curfew to meet a boy from another House in an empty classroom? Copied off another student's essay?"

She returned his grin with one of her own. Stumped at first with where exactly she should start to list off her crimes as a young Gryffindor, she chuckled when her eyes fell on a clump of wild bluebells growing near the path they were walking down. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face the wizard she was already certain that she was in love with.

"When I was a first year, I set Professor Snape's robes on fire during a Quidditch match because I thought he was cursing Harry's broom."

His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline at her confession. For a few seconds he stared at her without speaking until the severity of her actions struck him. She had always loved his laughter and felt a deep pride knowing that she was the reason he was shaking and near hysterical with his own mirth.

"And what did Severus do when you set him on fire? How many years of detention did you get for that act?"

"Not a single moment's worth. He never knew it was me. Too distracted by the fire."

Augustus' laughter continued. When he was able to breathe properly again, he begged her to tell him every single detail of her naughtiness at the Quidditch pitch. She replicated the spell for him, pointing out the similarities between the flames and the flowers surrounding them. He plucked a bloom and tucked it behind her hair with promises that he would never be able to see the flower again without imagining Severus Snape on fire and his devious, little witch the cause.

Hermione had to push aside her wandering thoughts about the wizard and the flower he gave her when the train arrived in the station. Where she was headed next was anyone's guess. Though she still had quite a bit of money in her bag thanks to Augustus' generosity, she wanted to preserve as much of it was possible. There was no way to tell definitively how long she would need to make the funds last. Once off the train she made the choice to walk through the city until an idea came to her. Too much inactivity on the way there meant she needed the chance to stretch her legs and breathe.

Before she knew where she would rest her head that night, she slipped into a small pub for something to eat and a few drinks to calm her overactive mind. No one, to her relief, bothered her as she sat at the end of the bar staring only into the bottom of her glass. Everyone else had their own issues to think about it seemed. Hours passed before she hopped off the stool. Nearing midnight she needed to find a safe place to sleep. Her eyes were too heavy to keep open.

Seeing an inn up ahead the street she was walking down, she didn't see the shadowy form step out of the darkness to grab her arm. Long before she could react in her highly intoxicated state, she was being Disapparated away from the area.