May 9th

It had never been Hermione's intention to humiliate the poor man with her questions. Sometimes she was inappropriate when it came to asking questions in what should have been a polite conversation. Her husband had a signal and a code phrase he used when he felt she was traveling down an impertinent or rude path. After working for so many years as an interrogator, what was acceptable to ask an acquaintance over cocktails at a dinner party seemed to become less and less clear. She was used to no subject being off-limits, no question taboo. Antonin would always gently squeeze her elbow and ask the poor victim of his wife's exuberance just how young was too young for a little boy to get a puppy because no one in the Dolohov family could ever agree.

She could have used Antonin hours earlier over their tense breakfast. There were times he was able to simply signal to her with a lift of his eyebrows across a room that she needed to calm down and allow someone else to have a turn speaking. Years as his student and then even longer married taught them each a great deal about the other's mannerisms. He knew when she was moving into dangerous territory with her questions and she knew just by looking at his face when he had had too much to drink and was in danger of saying more than he should. For all that they didn't like about each other, they made a formidable team. Maybe if he'd been the one outside her broom cupboard everything would have been different.

But, there was no sense in wishing for what could not be. Staying mired in the past robbed one of both their present and their future. Regret was an emotion she knew all too well. It was unfortunate that she upset Draco so soundly the day before. Even if she would have liked to, she couldn't go back and change what she did.

Being alone in his flat all day and evening gave Hermione a lot of time to think. Truthfully, there hadn't been much else for her to do since he "rescued" her from the streets of Aberdeen. Reading passed some of the time, but even she couldn't read every hour of the day she wasn't sleeping, eating, or taking advantage of his shower. Her mind would wander, the ink on the pages would start to lose their meaning. Existing on the run when her safety wasn't guaranteed and she had to keep finding adequate shelter kept her usually from the luxury of dwelling too much on unpleasant topics. Draco's warded flat allowed her the freedom to obsess and dwell as she liked.

Over and over the same thought kept running through her mind. It had never been her intention to embarrass the man with her question about his anger back in the Resistance's village. Part of her, the tiniest speck of a girl who once believed in romance deep, deep inside, hoped he would take that moment to admit his jealousy because he had been in love with her for a long time. It was a silly fantasy. For years they could hardly stand the sight of each other and then they mostly just tried to stay out of the other's way. Or, at least that's what she had done. She couldn't speak for his motivations. But, imagining a world where Draco had been holding a flame for her all of these years would have made a compelling story, if a bit unrealistic and too fantastical to believe.

She had always taken her love for Augustus for granted. The first seeds were planted outside her broom cupboard and then watered with his visits to Antonin's home early in her training. When she looked back on those first years following the end of the war, she only saw Augustus. He was the biggest part of keeping her sane during that tumultuous time. Was it any wonder she began to feel the first threats of her mind slipping after he was forced to leave? Because her love for Augustus was always a part of her, it was easy to forget that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience a great love in their life.

Her assumption that Astoria Greengrass filled that need for Draco was innocently made. How was she supposed to know what a sore subject that would turn out to be for him? It became all too clear that despite days of tumbling in and out of bed with the man, she knew very little about him. While she lived her life with Augustus and then with Antonin, he had his own life. She didn't know what he had experienced or done. Their pasts were complicated. Everything in their world was complicated. Likely they could spend the rest of their lives around each other and still know nothing about the other.

Well after midnight when she was finally able to shut her upsetting thoughts up enough to fall asleep, once again in the guest bedroom, she was startled awake by the press of a chest against her back and the feel of an arm draped over her side. She hoped that he returned to her because he was ready to move past what she'd done. It was interesting how she had basically made an entire career out of embarrassing and tormenting perceived enemies of the regime without batting an eye, but knowing she'd upset Draco so much ate at her. A lot changed about her since the night he caught her in the Muggle's house on New Year's Day. Maybe she wasn't completely without hope yet.

"I shouldn't have run out of here like I did this morning. I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed at the feel of his lips against her temple. Rolling over onto her back so she could meet his eyes, she prepared to do what she tried so very rarely to do. Admitting one's faults or conceding that perhaps they might have been wrong could easily be considered weaknesses. She certainly believed it so. But, remembering the look in his grey eyes when they were still seated at his table made her no longer care if she was perceived as weak by the wizard. He deserved better than that.

"No, I'm sorry for asking impertinent questions that were none of my business."

A quiet, indelicate snort came out of the man to Hermione's surprise. She wasn't expecting that kind of reaction. Draco lowered his head to kiss her once on the lips.

"Asking questions is what you do, Hermione. You've always asked too many questions."

She couldn't exactly argue with his remark even if she wanted to. It was one of her more annoying traits or so she'd been told her entire life. At least he was trying to remain upbeat. She appreciated that he was making an effort to make her feel better about the awkward morning.

"I still should not have asked you what I did. It's none of my business."

He kissed her again, lingering a little longer than earlier. Just as she thought he was going to try to heat up their actions into something a little more pleasurable, he pulled back to her disappointment. It was easier when they were occupied with the base pleasures of the flesh. She didn't have to think too much about anything. She never had to worry beyond the next moment.

"I won't lie that I was angry, but mostly just embarrassed. Still can't believe that I actually admitted I've never truly been in love before. Never told anyone that before. That wasn't anything I planned on telling you. Clearly, you were very good at your job."

It wasn't meant to be unkind. Hermione knew that. Many long years had come and gone since the man was last the boy who enjoyed tormenting and taunting her with his words. Even holding that knowledge, a tightness settled in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes she could look back on what she had done for so many years for the regime with pride. Mostly, she was beginning to feel the stings of regret in yet another area of her misguided life.

"Part of the reason why I wanted to run was because I was too good at my job. It made me feel powerful, invincible even. I was getting to the place where I was enjoying it too much."

Those words had never slipped from her mouth before. Not even when she was completely alone with no one else around. She couldn't even afford to admit them to herself, but they were true. The amount of power she held over people's lives in that position was intoxicating and exhilarating. Knowing that the same people Antonin was trying to protect from her overenthusiastic questioning at social events lived in abject fear that one day they would be dragged to her special room in the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic to be subjected to even more questioning filled her with a headiness she couldn't explain. For so much of her life she had no power at all. As nothing but a Muggle-born student with few friends to the terrified pet of the Dark Lord's, she couldn't even hope to gain any meaningful amount of power over anything, including her own life. Having a large percentage of the country's population fear her changed all of that.

"I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way. I like being expected to be away from everyone. I like moving around and never staying in the same place for very long."

He kissed her again to prove that he meant what he said. It made her feel slightly better knowing that someone else could somewhat understand what she felt. Getting wrapped up in what they were ordered to do for the regime was a common issue. Many other Death Eaters in similar situations completely lost who they were before. While she was far from being the person she used to be, she understood that it was best she leave while she still could.

"You've been staying home a lot lately."

"Because I have an incentive to keep returning."

Yet another kiss proved that he was determined to move past the uncomfortable situation. Though she was grateful, part of her still felt ill at ease because he had never actually accepted her apology. She was afraid that he was just pretending that he was all right. Gently pushing on his chest, she broke the kiss off to look in his eyes.

"Do you forgive me, Draco?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. Like I said, I was just embarrassed to admit that unlike everyone else in the world it seems, I've never known what it feels like to be in love."

He kissed her again. The last of her worries that he was just pretending to forgive her fell away. She wanted to lose herself in him again, forget the worries of the world and focus only on what was happening inside that bed. Draco removed his lips from hers to kiss a heated trail from her chin up her neck. Just outside the shell of her ear he whispered.

"I think that could all be changing."

As he renewed his attention to her neck and shoulders, a sinking took place in Hermione's gut. He deserved better than to fall in love with the likes of her. She would bring him nothing but pain and misery.