May 24th

Rabastan knew something was up. Hermione didn't even need confirmation to know that her partner of many years was aware that she wasn't telling the complete truth about her return to their society. He was an observant man who hadn't gotten to where he was without being perceptive and aware of what others weren't. She might have possessed a natural inclination in their line of work, but he'd had decades to hone it to a fine art.

If she wasn't careful, she would become one of his victims. Even the benefit of their fucked up friendship and years-long sexual relationship wouldn't save her from the locked room in Level Eleven if he suspected she was up to something to sabotage the regime. In order to be successful, to have Aberforth Dumbledore walk out of the bowels of the Ministry and for her to not take his place in his empty cell, she could not make it obvious what she was doing.

This was going to take much longer than she initially thought. Maybe if Rabastan hadn't made such a big deal about dragging her over to Aberforth's cell during their visit the day before, she might not need to be so cautious. But, he was warning her in a way that left no doubt that he was aware that something was happening. Until all of the pieces fell into place, she would have to be perfect. This was beyond life or death. If she failed, she might also be responsible for causing the torture and death of her own son right before her eyes. Maybe even Antonin's death. With the Dark Lord still alive, there was always the possibility that one of his Death Eaters could become just another victim to the society he built. Some rules were not meant to be broken. The consequences of doing so were too dire.

Creativity wasn't always one of her strongest talents. In the past, when it was absolutely necessary, she'd been able to come up with inventive ways to get a problem solved. The success rate of those endeavors was somewhat mixed. She still couldn't think about the humiliating moment in her second year when she turned herself into a cat without a bit of shame. Perhaps Polyjuice Potion hadn't been the best idea. It provided some answers, but it also provided her with a lifetime of embarrassment. Especially after she once made the mistake of telling Antonin in confidence what she'd done. He'd tried to remain perfectly placid and unmoved. He was only successful for about half a second before he burst into loud laughter and begged her to let him see her memory of the horrible event in the pensieve she kept in the basement. She did so only to shut his obnoxious laughter up. At least ten years had gone by since that night and she still regretted every moment.

Around midday, she made the decision to go to the Ministry canteen for lunch. Being without food on a regular basis for long really helped to encourage her to remain on a normal eating schedule. Even when she wasn't hungry, which was rare, she would force herself to eat when she had the opportunity. One never knew how long their fortune would hold out. For all she knew, she would have to make a run for it that afternoon and that might be the last meal she had the chance to eat for days. As a show of good faith, she left her beaded bag at home where Antonin could inspect it at his leisure to ensure it was empty. Though she felt practically naked without it, she knew that was a small price to pay to ensure her husband didn't find out what she was up to. If she had to run, she would make do with what she had.

No one in the Ministry canteen wanted to share a table with the infamous Madam Dolohov. It was a common occurrence before she left on the run and honestly, didn't really bother Hermione much. She'd worked damn hard for the persona she created. Most people either hated her or feared her. Very little opportunity remained between those two emotions to create lasting friendships.

Once she picked the meal she wished to consume, Hermione set about the task of finding an empty table. Just as she was about to set her tray down on a small table near an enchanted window, she caught sight of Angelina Johnson sitting by herself at another table. There was a time before Hermione ran that the two women had been somewhat friendly. Or as friendly as most of her old school chums were apt to be with her anyway. The former professional Quidditch player mostly just tried not to make waves. Offered a job in the Department of Magical Games and Sports once she retired, her fellow Gryffindor kept a fairly low profile.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

If Angelina wanted to say no to the younger witch, she didn't allow the desire to show on her face. With a bright smile that seemed to knock off several years from her still quite beautiful face, she gestured to the empty chair. Hermione was grateful that she wasn't denied. It would've been quite awkward and based on how she used to stomp around the Ministry, she wasn't sure if she would be expected to make Angelina's life a living hell or not. What she used to do in the past was exhausting.

"Are you settling back in all right?"

She'd always liked Angelina. Even back in their days at Hogwarts when they had absolutely nothing in common, the older witch had always been kind. It was common knowledge that once George Weasley was executed, she lost a lot of the spirit she once possessed. Unmarried and unconcerned with changing that fact, she'd played Quidditch until her knees could no longer take the strain and she had to set her feet back down on the ground. Though it would've been so easy, and understandable, for Angelina to not wish to speak to one of the most infamous Death Eaters out of pure spite for the losses she'd endured in her own life, she never seemed to forget the days when they were both children playing at a war they were doomed to lose.

"Yes, thank you. I am."

Awkward small talk was almost entirely the extent of their relationship post-Hogwarts. Neither woman wished to delve too deeply in any topic. They stuck to what was safe and uncontroversial.

"Your son is old enough to be at Hogwarts, right?"

Hermione nodded, a small smile creeping up on her lips. At times it bothered her when other women would go straight to talking about children, but she was grateful that that was at least a topic that she could freely converse on without a lot of worry of it getting too serious.

"How is he enjoying it?"

"It's his first year. He's a Gryffindor. Sounds to me like he's been causing a great deal of stress for poor Professor McGonagall."

Both women chuckled at the thought. Each of them had been responsible in their own way of causing the same stress for their former Head of House. Angelina might have been able to stay out of blatant and obvious trouble more often than not, but her friendship with the Weasley twins was enough to put at least a few more grey hairs on the Transfiguration professor's head.

"We had a lot of fun in school, didn't we?"

All Hermione could do was nod at the question dripping with nostalgia. If they could go back, she had no doubt that each of them would. Even if Hermione knew that she wouldn't be able to change a single moment, she would've given a great deal to be able to return to the days when she thought failing an exam was a life or death situation. Though they seemed enormous at the time, she didn't understand how simple and juvenile her problems actually were. Part of her hoped that Ollie would be able to go through his school years with few worries beyond keeping his marks up and making it on the Quidditch team.

Most of Gryffindor House assumed that Angelina was in love with Fred Weasley. It made sense because they were each other's dates for the Yule Ball, but Hermione always thought she would make a better match with George. Unless one really knew the Weasley twins, it was easy to assume that they were just alike. That assumption couldn't be further from the truth. The subtle differences in the two men made a big difference. Hermione had a much easier relationship with George and frequently butt heads with Fred. She couldn't recall the days in their final year when they were hiring innocent, naïve first years to try their products without a smile.

War was such a waste. Both of those men should've been alive. Still in their ridiculous Diagon Alley shop selling their remarkable products that were actually quite brilliant. There should have been generations of Hogwarts students paying to have their Patented Daydream Charms for boring lessons or to have terrible love potions smuggled in under the guise of innocuous chocolates. The future would have been limitless for those two if only fate had been kinder.

An idea struck Hermione as she recalled simpler days. Maybe it was complete rubbish and would only serve to get both her and Aberforth killed, but for the first time since she returned to the Ministry, she felt a lessening of the tight knot in her stomach. A million different pieces would have to be put into play and they could all bring the plan tumbling down around her ears. She wondered what it said about her that she was actually excited about the prospect? She might finally have an idea that could work.

The two women finished their lunch only a few minutes later. Filled with energy and excitement, Hermione's step felt lighter as she made her way back to her office. She had a first step. That was a start. All she needed was a chance.