June 7th

Following her encounter with Rabastan in their shared office, Hermione had been anxious to scrub all reminders of his touch from her body. Hoping that she wouldn't run into Draco when she stopped in at Number Twelve to ensure the polyjuice potion was still coming along as it should, she was grateful for once to find herself alone in the crumbling, old house. Memories still clung to every cobweb-infested corner, but something about the place made her feel comforted, made her remember the parts of her past she generally tried to shuffle away from her thoughts. They soon became overwhelming enough that she wasn't sad to walk out the front door.

The very moment she entered her home in Hogsmeade she stormed up the stairs to fill their luxurious bathtub. Her hope was that she could rid herself of some of the reminders of her failed attempt at manipulation. Sensing that she was not in the mood to be bothered, her husband said nothing to her as they passed on the stairs. She'd been humiliated enough that day that she couldn't bear it if he asked her what it was that had her so upset.

Antonin gave her space the rest of that night. They spoke as little as possible over their shared meal. Even with the constant threat of their world crashing down around their ears, her husband attempted to keep as much distressing news away from her as he could. She appreciated his perceptiveness that evening. Even if she was still mulling over Rabastan's offer from earlier in the week of betraying the man she was forced to marry. If he could offer her a future free from the confines of the family she never wanted, she knew it wouldn't be that difficult to say yes. The married couple slipped into the same bed side by side and passed another night not touching.

Thursday brought a return of a sullen and frustrated Rabastan to their corner of the Ministry of Magic. Relieved that he didn't immediately make some ridiculous remark about their activities the day before when he first entered the office, Hermione went back to ignoring the wizard as best as she could. It was evident from the very beginning that something had him in a terrible mood. When her assistant Rachel walked into their office with a message to pass to the man with red eyes and great big tears in her eyes, Hermione had to bite back a laugh when Rabastan snapped at the girl. She'd forgotten how funny he could be when he was angry.

"You know, I have half a mind to keep that wretched waste of space in our department just because of the amusing effect she has on you."

His response was simply a hate-filled glare that would've made most in their world cower in fear. She knew him too well to succumb to his fits of rage. He only lashed out at those he deemed unimportant. If one had any sort of value to him, he wouldn't dream of hurting them until it was necessary to further his agenda. Considering his offer days earlier, she knew that he wouldn't hurt her.

There was more going on with the temperamental wizard than she was aware. Based on the stress present in his shoulders, Hermione knew that she didn't have the full story. Something more than just the incompetence of their department workers or a frustrating interrogation was going on. This was the time in the past when she would lock the door to the office, but that was not going to happen. If she was smart, that was never going to happen again. To fall to such an embarrassingly low level the day before was a shame she would have to learn to forget. Another option presented itself when she thought about how to get the man to calm down. One that she wasn't the least bit nervous or disgusted about exploring.

"Were you serious the other day about me teaming up with you to overthrow Antonin?"

His sly smile helped to dissipate some of the tension in his frame. Rising from his desk, he crossed the space between them to perch himself at the edge of her desk. Just as he had days earlier, he wanted to be as close to her as possible before he spoke about potential treason. Before either of them could speak, a rustling of parchment caught their attention. Rachel was almost across the threshold when Rabastan slammed the door in her face with a spell. The click of the lock left no room for interpretation. No doubt the ignorant chit believed they were about to repeat their actions from the day before. There were few secrets in their department. It was cruel to taunt the girl so, but Hermione couldn't help but chuckle again.

"You're aware that nothing is going to happen today, aren't you?"

Laughing, Rabastan assured her that when he set his mind to what he wanted, he could be very persuasive. She knew that to be the truth. All too well. Clearing her throat and pushing aside reminders of their past encounters, she replied that he wouldn't be persuasive enough to rip her knickers again. Needing desperately to change the subject, she brought his offer back up.

"There is a small, but growing, group of us that do not want your husband as the next Dark Lord."

"You are aware, of course, Rabastan, that such talk is dangerous. Not only could I report you to the Dark Lord, but there's nothing to keep me from telling Antonin."

He laughed again. A tightening in the pit of her stomach put Hermione on edge. When he was amused, it usually wasn't a good thing. That had been a lesson that many had learned the hard way over the years.

"And how loyal exactly are you to a man that you almost killed, pet?"

It wasn't a surprise that he knew about that day. If he didn't know what happened would've been a much bigger surprise. Secrets were rarely kept secret in the Inner Circle. Information was currency, power. Rabastan was the sort to seek it out wherever possible. While she didn't believe that he was seeking the position of Dark Lord for himself, she did wonder just who it was that he was working with. Theodore Nott was the obvious answer. Of course, like she was well aware of, Rabastan played multiple games at the same time. No one, besides himself probably, knew them all.

"That incident is hardly worth speaking of. It's over."

At first he seemed as if he wanted to argue with her, but he stopped himself. Maybe he knew there was no purpose. She wasn't going to debate her actions that day. Part of her was still unsure why she even attacked Antonin so brutally.

"What did you do this past year? Where were you?"

"I traveled. Made new friends. Spent some time with old friends. Nothing terribly exciting I'm afraid."

His raising of a single eyebrow made her nervous.

"Old friends like Fenrir?"

There was no reason to deny the truth. Clearly, he was already aware of the time she spent in the werewolf's cottage. Maybe he discovered it on his own. Or maybe Fenrir wasn't as loyal to her as she thought. When she didn't immediately dispute his statement, Rabastan laughed.

"Antonin doesn't know how close we were to catching you that day, does he?"

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. Not for certain. Not until I saw that little birthmark at the base of your spine again yesterday when I had you so deliciously placed on top of my desk. I suspected that day, of course. Perhaps if your husband hadn't been so determined to not look at you tied up on the floor he would've recognized his own wife's sweet arse."

"Why didn't you say anything to Antonin?"

All hints of amusement dropped from Rabastan's face. He grew quite serious, the tension in the room began to escalate. When he brushed the tips of his fingers along her chin, Hermione could feel her skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Because you are his weakness, pet. You always have been."

His reasons for approaching her became completely clear. Whatever faction he was a part of wanted to use her against her husband. Seek out his weaknesses. Rip him apart from the inside out. Hermione was conflicted. As much unpleasant history that existed between them, she wasn't sure she wanted to take an active role in destroying the man.

"What are your plans for my son when this is all over?"

"You're not suddenly developing some kind of maternal instinct, are you?"

"Leave my son out of this."

Rabastan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"We were hoping for a clean break. Sons so often desire vengeance for their fathers."

Hermione couldn't believe that he was discussing the murder of her child so calmly. There was no way that she was going to get involved in anything that put Oliver in danger. Just as she demanded he remain safe when she was considering spying for the Resistance, she forced a promise out of Rabastan that she wouldn't hesitate to tell Antonin everything she knew unless he kept her son safe. He reluctantly agreed with another roll of his eyes.

"I'd recommend when this is all over that you change his name and send him off to Beauxbatons or some other foreign school. He won't be welcome at Hogwarts."

If Antonin was killed in this power struggle, she would make certain that Oliver was well cared for. Even if she was a shit mum, she didn't want her child to get caught up in the nastiness of adults. She'd already had to fight a war she had no business fighting when she was a child. To demand the same of her son was cruel.

"Well, I suppose you will want to consider all of your options before you agree?"

She nodded. Rabastan kicked at her desk, opening the secret compartment she'd so far managed to leave shut since she returned to the Ministry with his foot. Filled with dozens of vials of the potion that she swore to herself, and Antonin, that she would never touch again, she felt an itching desire course through her veins to swallow them all.

"Want one for old time's sake?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt would be ashamed of her weakness if he knew. Wherever the former auror was hiding, he would curse her for succumbing to the temptation after he kept her alive in his dingy flat for so long. She pushed the compartment closed, forcing a dramatic pout out of her Co-Head.

"You used to be more fun."

He hopped off her desk to return to his own. This wouldn't be the last time they had this conversation. She had a great deal to consider.