April 30th
Long after Hermione went to bed after her conversation with Draco, his statement about Aberforth not being dead yet kept her awake. There hadn't been much else spoken once he made the shocking claim that he believed there was still hope for the wizard she was responsible for having arrested. Realizing that perhaps he had said too much, Draco quickly finished the rest of his reheated meal. His guest simply sat in her chair unsure what to even say next. He cast spells to clean his empty plate and send it zooming back to its rightful place in the cupboard. With a nod of his head and a muttered 'goodnight', he disappeared into his bedroom.
She didn't expect the conversation to last much longer even if he chose to remain in the kitchen. As much as they had somehow managed to develop some kind of friendship in the months since he first tracked her down, the former classmates still struggled with being perfectly honest. Hermione knew that to reveal too much could mean her death or worse, her capture. Falling back into her husband's hands wasn't a fate she relished. In order to keep from that torture, she couldn't afford to tell Draco everything. And because she knew that she couldn't trust him implicitly, she knew that he couldn't trust her the same way either. It was a truly fucked up world they lived in.
When she allowed herself to stop and think over the choices she had willingly made in the past, it was easy to hate the person she became. A great number of people that she knew from her former life might make the assumption that she was forced to become a Death Eater against her will. They quite simply had no idea. No one, not even the Dark Lord's prized captives Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, was ever forced to pledge their complete and undying loyalty to their master. Left arms were not Marked if the owner wasn't one hundred percent positive that they wanted the Mark. At any single moment in her past before she extended her arm for the final test of her loyalty, Hermione could've said no. She could have refused to be branded. So could Ron.
More than a few times she considered her options before she knelt in front of the Dark Lord alongside her former best friend. They were not Marked early on in their captivity. They were not given the impossible choice to become a Death Eater or die. Only the Dark Lord's most loyal and faithful followers were allowed to have the physical proof of their devotion permanently etched on their left forearms. To be gifted with the Dark Mark, they had to earn it. At any point in her training, she could've refused. Antonin even tried to talk her out of it several times. He wanted her to understand the sacrifice that she was making, to know that there was no turning back.
She would have lived a restricted life within their new society if she hadn't made the choices that she did. Lord Voldemort wasn't going to allow his prized pet to run off to some quiet corner of the country where no one could see her. She was the symbol of his mercy. If he not only allowed his greatest enemy's greatest ally to live, but he gifted her every luxury and privilege, what wouldn't he do for those wayward citizens who hadn't yet given up their idea of overthrowing him? She was proof that he valued those who would cease their war against his regime. 'Comply or die'. But, if one complied, there were promises that their lives would be better than they ever could have imagined. If Hermione refused to throw herself into her training to become the super soldier she always desired to be, she would have still been allowed to live a pampered existence with just a few more restrictions to her freedom of movement.
Becoming a Death Eater wasn't her first choice. There was still enough of the idealistic witch inside her after she was removed from her broom cupboard that she couldn't imagine that she would ever fall completely in line with the violent beings she suddenly become surrounded by. When she was first inside of Antonin's house, his training was not to mold her into an effective, loyal Death Eater. That was the furthest idea from his mind and his master's mind. His orders were to break her down to be more malleable. If she remained as rigid in her ideals and convictions as she had been before Harry's defeat, she would've cracked and crumbled into a billion pieces. The new world wasn't built for someone that rigid.
Her first lesson with Antonin had been cruel. Even he would admit that he didn't have the stomach for making the terrified, starving, broken witch suffer in his kitchen for two days straight. Though there had been a few times in the course of her broom cupboard captivity that a house-elf snapped into the space to provide her with a meager meal, she was mostly forgotten. Augustus didn't dare open the door to slip food inside for fear that his offering would be considered a betrayal to his master. The fear that one of his comrades would be able to slip inside the space to assault the woman he swore to himself to protect was also not an attractive prospect. When Hermione stood in front of the table laden with delicious food and was denied, she had rarely felt so helpless. If she hadn't cried out most of her tears inside her cupboard, she might have embarrassed herself in front of her new teacher by sobbing on the floor of his kitchen.
But, even if he hated every moment of those two days almost as much as his student, Antonin knew that he had to make it clear to the witch that she couldn't afford to not follow orders in her new life. One who wouldn't bow down before the Dark Lord would find themselves at the wrong end of an Avada. He had to be cruel to prove how serious it was that she not slip into bad habits of disobedience or insubordination. She would not get any second chances if she failed. His purpose was not to turn her into a deadly Death Eater. Hermione made that decision all on her own.
She sat up in her borrowed bed in Draco's guest room to force her thoughts to change from the past. Everything had always been complicated and she wasn't sure that she had the energy or the fortitude in that moment to look back at her mistakes. Experience taught her that life was too short to focus on what had already passed. No matter how much she might have liked to, she could not go back and change anything. No time turner in creation was strong enough to wipe away the stains of her past. If she wanted to continue to survive and perhaps one day even thrive, she had to keep her eyes on the future.
Was Draco implying when he was eating that there was something that could be done to save Aberforth from his eventual fate? As such a respected and valued leader within the Resistance that had caused a number of headaches for the regime over the years, it was foolish to imagine that Dumbledore wouldn't be executed. If he was still alive that meant that there was still some value to his life. Perhaps he was being held in one of the special rooms hidden deep in the bowels of the Ministry where the worst of Hermione's work was usually done. The office that she shared with Rabastan on Level Two was where they stored their active case files and held their meetings with interested members of the Ministry. Deep down in Level Eleven, a level most of society didn't even know existed within the building, was where their real work was conducted.
There was a time when she really believed in the work that she was doing. Despite the fact that very few entered her corner of Level Eleven permanently unaltered, she knew that she was necessary. The information that she had been able to uncover from those reluctant to share what they knew had been invaluable. She felt confident in the fact that she had been able to prevent most of the revolts against the regime before they were even started. Thanks to the job that she and Rabastan and their small staff completed, their world was safer. That was how she was able to go home each night to her family with a clear conscience. As much of a shit mum as she was, she felt proud of the fact that when she leaned down to kiss the top of her only child's head, she knew that it was for his safety that she extracted the information in creative ways.
If Aberforth was indeed still alive, he would be held in one of two places: the deepest dungeons of the castle or in the cells that lined the darkness of Level Eleven. Rarely all full at once, they held the enemies of the Dark Lord until they were ready for their interrogations. Until every last drop of potential intelligence was wrung from his body, he would be kept alive. He was too valuable to be killed quickly. When he was broken and empty, then he would be dragged in front of the the citizens of their country for his public execution. It was a formula that had been used dozens of times. She could write the book.
Perhaps that was what Draco referred to the night before. He might be under the impression that the wizard who saved his life, and hers too, for that matter, could still be saved. Few would have enough influence to get near the prisoners. Even fewer would have enough influence to aid successfully in the escape of a prisoner as high priority as Aberforth Dumbledore. If Draco's loyalty was to Aberforth, did that mean he only continued to track her and then offer his home to her as a way to get her to help?
Hermione threw the covers off the bed and set her feet on the floor. Rays of sunshine were starting to peek in through the window. Another sleepless night had come and gone. Not caring that she was still in her pajamas, she exited the bedroom. Just a couple of doors down the corridor was the room where she knew Draco slept. It was important that they stop talking to each other in riddles and get straight to the point. If he wanted her assistance in getting Aberforth out of the prison she was responsible for putting him in, he needed to come right out and admit so.
A light knock on the door proved that it wasn't shut. She pushed it open expecting to find the wizard still asleep in his bed. Instead, she found the room empty, the bed perfectly made. Further investigation of the flat proved he was long gone. She was really beginning to hate how he just ran off without telling her.