May 17th
There was no way for Hermione to tell what time her husband finally dragged himself into their home. All she knew was that it was very late. She'd been up well after midnight unable to shut her mind off long enough to sleep. Not once did she hear a single noise proving that Antonin was back from his mysterious meeting in Knockturn Alley. She lay in her bed alone analyzing every single word that Draco Malfoy spoke to her in their bizarre meeting in the garden.
He was presenting a complication that she didn't need. If she was too focused on thinking about the strange man and his unpredictable behaviors, how could she hope to pull off the impossible task of helping a doomed man escape from the prison cells she helped build? There were so many variables, so many chances for it all to go wrong. Draco arriving at the wrong time to muck up her already fragile thoughts had the potential for disaster. Though he never shared the details of the time that Aberforth Dumbledore saved his life ten years earlier, she knew enough to know that the tracker respected the Resistance leader deeply. It bothered him to know that he was captured and close to execution. Why would he be so vehement about the fact that she wasn't needed to secure his release? He wanted her locked up in his flat, not at the Ministry.
By the time she was able to fall asleep, it was late. When she woke up at the sound of her blasted alarm informing her that it was time to start another day, she rolled over to find the space next to her empty. Only the absence of Antonin's pillow proved he'd been anywhere near their marital bed. Expecting to find him waiting for her on the sofa in the lounge, she sighed when she found the same blanket neatly folded underneath his pillow. Silence proved that he might have come home after his meeting, but he was up before the sun to run away again.
Hermione found her desire to talk to her husband strange and unnerving. As much as she was convinced her mission would be easier if he pretended like she wasn't there, she found herself actually missing their conversations. An entire year on the run and she didn't want to have a single conversation with him. A week back in their house and she couldn't bear the continued silent treatment. She wanted to know what was wrong with the man she married, why he was avoiding her, what he meant in their conversation that started the whole rocky patch, and she had about a dozen other questions to ask.
There was a time when they made a good team. They were the first ones to get on the other's nerves and more than a few times the desire to want to kill their spouse was present, but no one could deny that their partnership worked. From the moment they made their vows to be married until death parted them, they were able to push aside their differences and keep up a united front. Until their son's eleventh birthday party, of course, but those were extenuating circumstances.
She didn't understand why he was acting so strangely by avoiding all contact with her. It wasn't as if what she said was false in any way. She spoke nothing but the truth. The incident with the stairs was ten years ago. Yes, it was awful, but bringing it up again shouldn't have caused him so much grief. They lived in a world filled with hard truths. Why was Antonin behaving like a petulant child who was scolded for something he knew he did wrong?
Deciding that she wasn't going to allow her husband's bizarre moods to ruin her day, Hermione stepped into the fireplace to return for another day at the Ministry. She had a valuable mission to complete. Allowing him to derail her efforts wasn't an option she was willing to consider. Besides, the sooner she was able to secure Aberforth's release, the sooner she could move on again. Maybe next time she ran she'd keep going until she was far from the influence of her country's laws. She could run to Australia to find out for herself what happened to her parents.
The small corner of Level Two where they kept their offices was empty. Neither Rabastan nor her tarty assistant were anywhere to be found. Hermione suspected that wherever they were, they were together. It was no matter. Their absence would just make her next step that much easier to complete. Besides, it wasn't as if she had any plans to let the cretin touch her again. Not after the incident in Fenrir's bedroom.
She wanted to confirm with her own eyes that Aberforth was still in good health. It wouldn't do her much good to discover that the elderly wizard was half-dead. Not only would it make escape that much more difficult with an invalid, but she got the impression that if the man died soon after escaping the Ministry, she would still be the target of the Resistance's ire. No, he would have to be whole and healthy for her mission to be successful.
The cells that housed those poor souls in preparation for their eventual interrogation and usually, their executions were on the lowest level of the Ministry. Few were even aware there was a Level Eleven. Usually by the time they learned of its existence, it was already too late to escape their fate. When one wished to access the lowest level, they were required to step into a completely empty lift, press a hidden panel with the tip of their wand, and insert their wand for inspection. Only those with the proper clearance were even given leave to go down there. Because it was such a secure area, an official record was kept every time a person took the lift to Level Eleven.
Rabastan, no doubt, would be the sort to scour the records every single day to make certain his colleague wasn't going down there on her own without reason. It was imperative that Hermione not throw up any red flags or she would be in just as much danger as Aberforth. More potentially. He was just looking to lose his own life. She had a son to consider. Even a husband. Antonin wouldn't be the first high-level Death Eater to be taken down by his spouse's actions. Few in their set ever discussed the ill-fated Averys for a very valid reason. Because she didn't want to end up in her own cell down in the bowels of Ministry, Hermione knew she had to be extremely careful.
It was fortunate that years earlier she accidentally stumbled upon a secret route to the Level that wasn't monitored. Wizards prided themselves on being smarter and more advanced than Muggles, but that wasn't exactly the truth. Perhaps that was why so many looked down on Muggle-borns. More than a few times in her younger years, Hermione would offer up long explanations to anyone within shouting range as to why Muggles were more advanced in many ways. It didn't exactly endear her to those who staunchly believed that those with magic were inherently superior in every way to those without. The invention of the lift was a point of contention. It was a Muggle who invented it, not a wizard. For centuries, witches and wizards employed by the Ministry of Magic walked up and down multiple flights of stairs to get to their respective departments. None of them even considered what a benefit a lift could be. Some embraced the invention, others shunned it. There was a fascinating account in Hogwarts, A History about the school governors descending into a Muggle-style street brawl over whether or not one would be assembled within the castle. The traditionalists won out in the end.
If one took the Ministry lift to Level Nine, descended the stairs to Level Ten where the courtrooms were housed, and slipped into an old, empty broom cupboard, a hidden staircase could be uncovered that would take them down to Level Eleven completely off the official records. Hermione assumed that it was how the criminals in the past were brought up to the courtrooms for their trials. How it was lost to time was a complete mystery. She didn't mind much. In years of using it for her own purposes, she'd not once been caught.
When the doors of the lift going down opened on Level Two, the current occupants saw Hermione waiting to enter. Very few officials liked being in such a confined space with someone with her reputation. Knowing that she could very well be headed down to the Level none of them wanted to think about, it was common practice that the lift would empty, regardless of their final destination. She bit back a smirk when the three nervous witches and an irritated wizard stepped out to allow her entrance. They would all stand and wait for the next lift. She appreciated the fear in their eyes. It was going to be that much easier to sneak down to the cells without an audience.
When the doors opened on Level Nine, she stepped out. Over two decades passed since the battle over the Prophecy, but she still felt ill at ease in the long, dark corridor. An offer was extended to allow her to become an Unspeakable years earlier that she declined. Her husband would've been pleased to have her safely in the Department of Mysteries. She couldn't bear the thought of returning to that place day after day.
No one else met her in the corridor. Most of the Unspeakables kept the oddest hours. She never knew when she would run the risk of meeting one and was grateful to find her pathway to the staircase leading down to Level Ten and the courtrooms unimpeded and unwitnessed. Trials in the old courtrooms were rare. In the early days of the regime, there was always excitement. Relaxing in the fact that she was almost there without anyone knowing what she was up to, Hermione reached for the doorknob of the empty cupboard.
"Hem hem."
She fought back a groan. Why didn't she consider the fact that the Ministry's file rooms were on the same level? Turning on her heel with an authoritative expression on her face, Hermione stared down the horrid Umbridge woman. Over the years, the disgraced file clerk learned a healthy amount of fear for her former student. In the past, she would scurry out of her way like a mouse. Had her long absence emboldened the woman?
"I'm pleased to see the rumors about you being back are true, Madam Dolohov."
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. What game was the wretched witch playing at?
"If you're headed downstairs, wouldn't the lift be more convenient?"
It was evident that the woman knew Hermione was sneaking around. She couldn't go down there now. After claiming she took a wrong turn, she barked out an order that Umbridge bring her every file she had on a case she worked on three years earlier. With the unnecessary paperwork in her hands, she stormed up the stairs back to Level Nine. Furious that her plans had been thwarted, she wondered if there was a way she could ruin Dolores Umbridge's life in her quest to get Aberforth released. Surely there was a way.