May 7th

Remaining in a place where Ginny Weasley could easily find her was not a good idea. Draco's flat no longer felt safe. Especially not after the Resistance leader's warning the day before that she would be killed if anything happened to their comrade. To expect Hermione to help Aberforth Dumbledore escape from whatever prison he was being held was complete and utter madness. Forget about being asked to be a spy. This demand was much more dangerous. Any hint of dissension or potential sabotage would result in her death. Dumbledore would still be executed. Everything would be for nothing.

Draco never returned the day before after he followed Ginny's quick exit. Whether he was caught up in his orders or he was simply looking for a reason to avoid another confrontation with his guest for a little while longer was unclear. Not that it really should've mattered, but to Hermione, it did. She lay awake in his big, empty bed alone waiting for him to return. Only sheer exhaustion allowed her to finally fall asleep some time after midnight. It felt wrong to be angry with him, like she didn't have a right to feel that way. The lines of their relationship became even muddier with their recent shift in boundaries.

She dragged herself out of bed just after noon. With nowhere to be and nothing to do, sleeping her life away was as good an option as any. As she sat at the kitchen table sipping at a cup of tea and trying to work up to eating her simple breakfast, she allowed her mind to travel to imagining absurd possibilities where she might be successful in securing Aberforth his freedom.

There was some truth to the matter that if anyone inside the regime was able to help facilitate his escape, it would be Hermione. In her former position as Co-Head of the Ministry's Intelligence Department, she had access to every single person wanted for questioning by an official working with the Ministry. Didn't matter which department brought them in, she was able to speak to them by doing nothing more than simply entering a room. Everyone knew who Hermione Dolohov was. Even if they weren't aware of who she'd been before the war ended, they knew the position of power she held. No one would keep her away when she wanted something. All it took was one word from her and their entire family could be snatched up and dragged to their own cells. It was enough of a discouragement to stay out of her way.

Only Rabastan Lestrange had as much power as she when it came to those wanted for interrogations. Their same level had always been a touchy subject for the wizard. He thought his age and his experience earned him the right to be in charge. Sometimes he could be a real bother. Stroking his ego when she wanted something quickly became tiresome. But, she was resourceful enough to uncover the key to both distracting Rabastan and getting whatever she desired.

If the rest of the Ministry knew what happened inside their shared office when the door was closed, they had the decency to keep quiet about it. Whenever Rabastan was in one of his cantankerous moods when he didn't want to cooperate, Hermione would point her wand at the door. A simple, non-verbal spell would shut it and lock it. The wizard was far from being an idiot. He had to have known how easily he was being manipulated. Likely, he knew and didn't care. The click of the lock usually stopped his ranting and raving. A sly smirk would creep up on his face as he stared at his Co-Head.

"Was there something you wished to discuss in private, pet?"

"Your incessant whinging is getting on my nerves."

It was a familiar dance, one she could perform in her sleep. Each time it began in the exact same manner and ended the exact same way - with Hermione winning. She would stand to her feet, drop the outer robes that all Ministry officials wore to the floor, and slowly, but deliberately cross the room to where Rabastan was seated behind his desk. The anticipation he felt in her torturous journey across the carpet almost always had him primed and ready before she'd even touched him.

"It seems that I must give you something else to think about just to get some peace and quiet in here. I can't even concentrate on my work with you prattling on so."

By the point where she dropped to her knees in front of him, Rabastan's face would be split into a huge grin. It was a shame that a truly heinous person had to be so attractive. She always thought it unfair. Monsters should be terrifying, not so gorgeous that it was easy to forget what they actually were beneath their flawless skin. The bulge in his trousers would always be straining to be released. Not once in all of the years they'd repeated this scenario over and over again had he not been pleased with the prospect. Hermione would carefully slide his zipper down, taking her time to torture the wizard a little bit more. It wasn't as much fun for her if she didn't make him suffer.

Rabastan had been one of the first men she invited into her bed after Augustus was an idiot. He might have even been the first, but she was so drunk that she couldn't remember those first few days very clearly. To outside observers it might have seemed unusual for their sexual relationship to continue long after she was married. She didn't care. Antonin had his dalliances. She had hers. Some days, she was certain that she needed this more than Rabastan.

The wizard liked to believe that he was somehow in a position of power with her on her knees between his thighs. Men could be such fools when they thought with the wrong part of their bodies. What might have seemed submissive was in fact quite the opposite. For however long it lasted, she held the capacity to hurt him in her mouth and her hands. As soon as she pulled him free of the confines of his trousers, she would run the tip of her tongue along his throbbing vein. She would always be rewarded with a deep groan of appreciation. She would follow that up with wrapping her lips only around the tip, swirling her tongue until she could hear nothing but his moans. Experience taught her just how to tease him before taking his full length inside her mouth. If he had been disrespectful like so many selfish arseholes to assault her mouth, she wouldn't have repeated the act. He was kind enough to always give her full control, to just sit back and enjoy the sensations. Usually, if he wasn't caught completely off guard and unable to last as long as he would've liked, he would reach a point where he'd pick her off the floor and throw her down on top of his desk. After pushing up the skirts she always wore to the office, he'd tug her knickers down and make her scream. Regardless of how he chose to come, by then, she could be certain to get exactly what she wanted. Any interrupted arguments would be forgotten.

Distracting Rabastan with a little office play was not going to be enough to get Aberforth released. It might be a start, a step towards the ultimate goal, but no matter how much she considered the options, she just couldn't see how she would be able to grant Ginny's demands. Running again would have to be her next move. Maybe she was capable of cloaking her magic enough that she could slip out of the country. She wasn't positive how far the Trace went exactly. If she made it to South America, she felt confident that would be far enough. Draco wouldn't like her plan.

Almost as if on cue, the wizard walked through the front door. One glance at his wrinkled, dirty clothes and the exhausted expression on his face proved that he had been on a mission. Whether or not he volunteered for the mission to be free from her for a few hours remained to be seen. Draco cautiously approached the kitchen table, unsure if she would be angry or not for his absence. Knowing that she was about to tell him something he would decidedly not want to hear, she plastered her best smile on her lips and greeted him with a deep kiss. For the moment at least, it seemed that she was calm. He exhaled a sigh of relief.

She waited for him to take a long shower. Even though he extended the invitation for her to join him, she could tell he was too tired to do much of anything but lather up and rinse off. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Hermione waited patiently for him to finish. It was best that they have the difficult conversation sooner rather than later. He could sense a shift in the tension of the flat the moment he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Everything all right?"

"It's not safe for me to stay any longer since Ginny has been here. I have to leave."

His feelings on the matter where clear when he slammed the drawer he'd been pulling clean clothes out of. Before he would turn around to look her in the face after her announcement, Draco took a deep breath.

"Are you just going to spend the rest of your life running?"

"Until I come up with a better plan."

What followed was one of the worst rows that she could remember having outside of the home she once shared with her husband. Neither of them bothered to keep their voices down. Tempers flared. The wizard was not happy at all to hear that she was going to leave just so she could wander around lost again. It was going to get her killed, he was certain.

"Starving and walking around the country waiting for someone who wants to hurt you to find you is not a plan, Hermione. What is wrong with you?"

She felt defensive at the tone of voice he was using. It was one she'd heard more than a few times before from other people in her life.

"You're being unreasonable. You can't even think for yourself. You are safe here, Hermione. And you want to throw that all away because of some crazy notion that the Resistance is going to sneak in my very heavily warded flat to murder you in the middle of the night?"

"I am not crazy. Don't you dare say I am."

"That's how you're acting. You can't just keep running aimlessly. It's insane."

Fearing that she would hurt him if she stayed another minute, Hermione rushed from his bedroom. She ignored his pleas for her to stop and come back. It was best that they stay apart. She slammed the door to the guest room shut. Minutes later she heard the sound of the front door slam.