June 4th

Remaining calm while waiting for any kind of sign or message from Draco was becoming impossible. Almost an entire week had gone by since their last meeting in the forest surrounding Hogsmeade and Hermione had had no indications from the wizard that he was successful in getting either the already brewed potion or the ingredients required for her to brew polyjuice potion on her own. She berated herself for asking too much of the man. It was a ridiculously dangerous mission. Even those suspected of seeking out the illegal potion could be subjected to cruel punishments and interrogations. Would she be required to face Draco in one of the locked rooms on Level Eleven to demand why he was seeking out the substance banned by the regime?

There seemed very little reason to sit around worrying about what she couldn't control. Draco was intelligent enough to survive over twenty years as a Death Eater when he was frequently the target of hatred and scorn from his fellows. And if he was to be believed, he'd been able to spend at least the last ten years in some sort of alliance with the Resistance. He was, in essence, a spy for the organization they had supposedly dedicated their lives to eradicating. If he was able to spend that many years moving between the two groups without getting caught, surely he would be able to find a little bit of polyjuice potion. If he wasn't successful, however, she needed to be ready with a backup plan. It would do no one any good to put all of her hopes on the one plan.

She sat at her desk in the Ministry trying and failing to focus on her work. To her great relief, Rabastan hadn't seen the need to drag her down to Level Eleven again. Eventually, she knew that her luck would run out. He was the kind of man who would want to test her loyalties. When that moment arrived, he would force her to prove whether or not she was still the same person she was before she disappeared for a year. If she failed to prove that she was, the consequences would be dire. All day long she felt eyes on her when she was staring down at the files on her desk. When she would look up to try to catch Rabastan in the act of staring, his eyes would be averted. He was clever, but she knew him too well. There was a time in their lives when she could anticipate his next several moves. The Dark Lord forced them to be partners for good reason. When they set their minds to it, they worked well together.

Just before she was ready to go home for the day, Hermione began organizing the files on her desk. She was using the hours at work each day to catch up on everything that she'd missed while she was on the run. When she was far from Hogsmeade and her husband, she wanted to pretend that that part of her existence wasn't real. She ignored everything and had no desire to learn what was happening outside of the insulated bubble she was moving in. Now that she was back in the midst of the danger and intrigue, she knew she needed to learn what she could. All of their lives were about to change. She needed to be ready for it when it happened. As she was stacking the parchments, Rabastan stood to his feet and addressed her for the first time all day.

"You've been ignoring me, Hermione. I don't like it."

The dramatic pout he put on his handsome face used to make her laugh. He was an expert at playing the spoiled brat when it suited him. She was glad she didn't know him as a child. He must have been positively unbearable. Once upon a time she found him to be exceedingly charming. Now, she didn't understand why she ever thought that in the first place. It must have been the mass amounts of alcohol and illegal potions she consumed in his presence. She matched his drama with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"I've not been ignoring you. I've been trying to catch up."

When he began to slowly cross the room to her desk, Hermione grew nervous. Since the day she made it clear that he wasn't to except a renewal of their inappropriate relationship now that she was back, he'd kept his distance. If Antonin was right about the fact that he was not on their side, she could be in a great deal of danger. It was imperative that she remain fully on guard at all times around the wizard. Rabastan perched himself on the edge of her desk, only centimeters away from her. She couldn't imagine what he was up to. The games he played were many and varied. As uncomfortable as she was, she refused to show fear. It was what he wanted, what he desired. Even though she was exhausted and too tired to play the game, she knew she had no other choice. More than just her life was riding on it.

"We used to be so close. What happened?"

His appeal to nostalgia was a new tactic she couldn't recall him ever trying before. At least he was trying not to be repetitive. She could appreciate him attempting to make his attempts to play whatever angle he was fresh. Part of her was curious to see how far he would take this. Maybe he might even let her know what he was up to.

"I think we both grew up."

Rabastan's fingertips brushed against the stray hairs that were slipping out of the severe hairstyle she had her locks twisted into. Part of the costume that made her 'Madam Dolohov the fearsome interrogator', she wasn't foolish enough to leave her hair long where anyone could grab it while she was working. Too many painful lessons learned the hard way. He gently pushed them behind her ear, taking care not to let the curls snag on his fingers. It was an act he'd done without thought for years. Though it never bothered her before, Antonin's warning about her Co-Head rang through her mind. He was unpredictable, dangerous. She had to be careful.

"I missed you when you were gone."

"Now you're just lying. What do you really want, Rabastan?"

He wasn't offended by her question even if it did come out of her mouth a little sharper than she intended. Besides her husband, if there was anyone still alive who was familiar with her harsh tongue, it was Rabastan. His lip slipped out in the prominent pout that was all a part of his act. She knew him every bit as well as he knew her.

"But I'm not lying. I did miss you." He moved his hand to cup her cheek, then to her neck, and with each word he spoke moved it lower down her body. "Every single part of you."

As much as she might have liked to forget the day ever happened, all she could think of was how terrified she was when she was tied up and helpless in Fenrir's bedroom. Rabastan didn't even know who she was. It didn't even matter to him that what he was intending to do to her was wrong. Too many years of his life had been spent with the ability to behave in however atrocious manner he wished with little to no consequences. It gave him, and others like him, a false sense of value and self-worth. Hermione should know. She'd been just like him once upon a time. Brushing his hand off of her breast, she shot him a look that dared him to try again. Rabastan chuckled, but didn't touch her again.

"Are you not afraid of upsetting the worthless little cunt outside? She might get jealous if she finds out about the attention you're giving me."

His chuckle grew to a full-blown belly laugh. She hated that the sound of his mirth threatened a smile out of her. The corners of her lips began to curl ever so slightly.

"I'm afraid she has become a bit…"

"Clingy?"

He nodded.

"I warned you that would happen. Did you not learn your lesson from the last assistant?"

"She will need to be reassigned to a different department."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She might have hated the girl from the moment she stepped foot in their department, but the thought of training a new assistant was wretched. Didn't she have enough on her plate as it was? Multiple times over the years since they began their department she warned Rabastan to stay away from the witches they hired. It was a lesson he was evidently never going to learn despite the number of times he swore he would never do it again.

"Married women only for me from here on out. I find them to be less expectant of anything other than a good time."

"You're disgusting. That will never change."

"I've never heard you complain before, pet. Especially not when I've laid you on top of this desk and buried my face between your gorgeous thighs."

The room seemed to grow warmer with each and every word he spoke. Unbidden and unwanted, images of the pleasurable times in their past he was referring to pressed to the front of her mind. He wasn't wrong. There had been few reasons to complain. In fact, there had been nothing to complain about except that she didn't want to recall the past when it was taking all of her self-control not to run from the room as fast as she could. Rabastan seemed to understand that he'd unnerved her if the smirk on his lips was any indication.

"Speaking of marriage… your husband is in a lot of danger. Are you aware of that?"

Of course she was. Antonin was always in danger. With the fall of the Dark Lord imminent and the uncertainty of who would take his place, he was even more so. To come right out and admit the truth proved that Rabastan had grown quite bold. Ordinarily, he was the one who was content to pull the strings from the sidelines where no one else could see him work. What was his game? Unwilling to give him what he desired, she gave her colleague as safe an answer as possible.

"We're all in danger, Rabastan. Any one of us could be killed at any time. Haven't you learned that yet?"

He liked her answer. Rising back to his feet, he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Yes, pet, that's true. Some of us, however, are in more danger than others. When you're interested in bettering your chances of surviving what's coming, let me know."

Rabastan left their shared office moments later giving Hermione a great deal to consider. All night long, ignoring her husband's concerned inquiries about what was bothering her, she thought about the man's words. Was he trying to recruit her over to the side that would oppose her husband's rise to power? And if so, did she want to let him?