June 12th

It took Hermione a long time to calm down after almost being caught in bed with Draco by William Wood. The entire incident was upsetting. Hours after she escaped from Number Twelve and returned to the safety of her own home, she thought about how terrible that entire afternoon could have gone. Despite the fact that she was actively trying to assist one of their leaders in escaping from his inevitable execution, Wood had no desire to follow orders where she was concerned. Given the opportunity to murder the woman who murdered his little brother, he would take it. No doubt he imagined that asking forgiveness later would be easier than obtaining permission before.

Hermione knew that she shouldn't have been surprised that Draco gave the horrible man lessons in tracking. Though she still didn't entirely understand the wizard's role with the Resistance, it was evident that he'd spent years working with them in some capacity. Maybe he thought by teaching one of them how he was able to track so efficiently they would begin to trust him. Whatever the reasons behind his decision didn't matter. All she cared about was the fact that the lunatic knew where to find her whenever he desired. Staying in the Ministry and in Hogsmeade would keep her safe, but if she started running again, he would find her. Perhaps before she gave up completely on the idea of murder and destruction to start a new life, she should look into tying up at least one loose end. She'd been responsible for ending the lives of countless others. What was one more?

Determined to keep up the normal schedule she created until Aberforth was free or she was killed, Hermione forced herself up the next morning at her usual time. Antonin was too preoccupied with something happening inside his own mind to give her much attention. Even the night before when they'd shared a meal and had a long conversation, he'd been distracted. He all but collapsed into bed, exhausted from whatever he'd been doing.

When she descended the stairs to fix a cup of tea before heading to the Ministry, it was much of the same. He nodded in response to her greeting and then went back to staring into his bowl of oatmeal. The man truly could be odd. As curious as she was at times to know what was happening inside her husband's mind, that morning she didn't care. She was glad he was too distracted to give her much attention.

"I have to leave the country for a few days."

Antonin made his announcement just as she sat down in the chair across the table from his. Something in his voice sounded off. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, only that he didn't sound like himself. The stress of the impending demise of their master and the uncertainty of what would happen afterwards was getting to him. Part of her felt the tiniest hint of sympathy. Immediately, she squashed that thinking. He was the one who got himself into that mess. He could learn to deal with the consequences.

"Where are you going? Why?"

She knew the moment she asked her questions that she would get no answers. The man could be too mysterious for his own good at times. After standing to his feet, he moved around the table to where she sat to kiss her goodbye. There was more passion in the gesture than she expected, more weight to his action than usual. Was he worried that he was about to head off to his doom? Sometimes he could be terribly dramatic.

Moments later he left through the front door. Hermione continued sipping at her tea for several minutes, wondering just what the hell was going on. An idea came to her that made her set her cup down. If her husband was planning to be gone for a few days, he wouldn't miss what he didn't know she knew he had down in the basement. She didn't waste another moment descending the stairs into the darkness. Afraid at first that he might have taken the Cloak of Invisibility with him on his trip, she sighed in relief when she saw the silvery fabric still resting in the top of the trunk she'd seen it in days earlier. As a non-verbal promise to her husband to not run off again any time soon, she'd emptied out her beaded bag and left it in a drawer in the lounge. Once she was back upstairs, she tucked Harry's cloak inside and put the bag in her pocket back where it belonged.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione actually looked forward to entering the Ministry of Magic. Maybe her glee was just a little too obvious when she didn't even take a moment to glare at Rachel her idiot assistant. The girl would likely take that as a sign of trouble that she would need to report back to Rabastan. No matter. Hermione wasn't worried. In order to create the future she desired, she would get rid of the obnoxious witch if necessary. She'd done it plenty of times before in her life. Just like with William Wood, what would one more hurt? It wasn't as if she wasn't already damned for the crimes she'd committed in her past. One more wouldn't discolor her blackened soul.

She was nervous about her plan. It was foolish, but she knew that if she didn't take advantage of the surprising gift of the cloak, she would regret it. There were a number of small moving parts to the plan to get Aberforth released. Any one of them could go wrong. Giving her excuses to Rabastan sometime mid-morning that she was dropping in to another department for a few minutes, she headed for the lifts, the weight of the beaded bag in her pocket noticeable. Her Co-Head didn't care where she went. Just like her husband had been that morning, something had Rabastan's mind occupied as well. She likely could've slipped out of the office without him even being aware.

The Department of Mysteries' corridor didn't bother her that day like it usually did. She was able to rush through the area to the staircase that led to the courtrooms on Level Ten. Again, the level was almost completely abandoned. Only Umbridge seated behind her desk in the file room greeted Hermione.

"Stand outside the broom cupboard door. If anyone tries to open the door to follow me, restrain them."

An Imperiused Dolores Umbridge made for surprisingly pleasant company. She smiled at Hermione and assured her that no one would open the door. Satisfied that her Unforgivable curse was still active, she slipped into the broom cupboard with the secret staircase. Not wasting another moment, Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak over her head. It was difficult to use the once-familiar magical artifact without her mind rushing back to simpler days when she shared it with Harry and Ron. Would Harry approve of her using his father's cloak in such a way? Deciding that the opinion of a dead wizard didn't matter, she pressed on.

The door to the secret staircase was little more than a scuffed panel in the wall at the end of the row of cells. Even ignoring the dim light of the prison, one wouldn't know it existed just by glancing at it. She didn't believe that she was in any danger of another Ministry official coming down to Level Eleven while she was in there, but to be safe, she very carefully and very slowly pushed open the hidden door. When no one appeared in her line of vision and no one made a noise, she felt confident to slip out and close the panel behind her.

It was bizarre to be inside the familiar room with the all of the cells filled with prisoners and no one aware that she was there. In the past, whenever she entered the Level, everyone knew. She would be assaulted with visual glares and shouted death threats. Once upon a time it amused her to see how angry and violent the helpless prisoners could get at her appearance. Seeing them all calm and in various stages of consciousness was strange.

She was glad that Aberforth's cell was in a dark corner. It would be easier to hide their conversation that way. When she tiptoed up to his cell and found the man peacefully dozing, she felt a wave of guilt rush over her again. It had never been her intention to get him captured. Would he believe that when she told him? No matter. Whether he appreciated the gesture or not, she would help him get out of his confinement. Even if it meant she ended up in the cell he vacated.

Once she was able to coat the immediate area in silencing and Notice-Me-Not spells, Hermione tapped her wand on the bars of his cell. Almost immediately his blue eyes flew open to stare at the nothing in front of him. Aberforth blinked his eyes several times, clearly trying to decide if he was imagining the sound or not. Just as he was about to convince himself he'd heard nothing and close his eyes again, Hermione pulled the cloak off. His eyes widened for a brief moment. A sneer followed.

"Why am I not surprised you ended up with that cloak? What else did you steal from the wizard you claimed was your best friend?"

"We don't have time for you to list off all of the reasons you despise me, Dumbledore. Someone could be down here any minute."

She could tell that he was trying not to seem too curious about her arrival. So much like his older brother in many ways, he was almost successful in appearing bored and unmoved. Realizing that she wasn't going to leave him in peace immediately, Aberforth sighed and sat up on his cot. The buzzing of the spells she cast could be heard easily. Perhaps only his curiosity kept him from telling her to bugger off.

"It wasn't my intention to get you arrested that day."

"Of course it wasn't." He rolled his eyes, unconvinced. "But, then again, maybe you're right. It's not as if you've had much of a head for planning lately. My sources tell me that you've been confused a great deal for years."

Her first instinct was to curse the man for his impudence. How dare he bring up such a sensitive subject? She also desired to know what sources he could possibly have, but she stopped herself from asking. There just wasn't enough time. If she stayed away from their office for too long, Rabastan might get suspicious. The last thing she needed was to get caught down there. Her plan relied on the fact that very few people were even aware there was another entrance to Level Eleven.

"I've got a plan to get you out of here."

That was enough to get the man's attention. He sat up straighter, ready to listen.

"What are you planning?"

"Don't worry, Dumbledore. It'll work."

She didn't have the heart to tell him that her plan was insane and it could very likely fail at every turn, but it was all she had. Better that she only give him the barest amount of hope. Just in case it blew up in her face as it probably would.

"I need some of your hair."

He narrowed his eyes, but plucked out several strands from the top of his head. The cell was small enough that he was able to hand them to her through the bars without even standing up. Hermione tucked them away in a safe pocket.

"And some of your blood."

Asking a wizard for blood was no small matter. Blood magic was dangerous and powerful. She could be doing any number of diabolical actions with it. But, he held out his hand, allowing her to cut his finger. When several drops of the fluid were safely sealed in a vial, she assured him one more time that she would get him out of there.

Their meeting was over moments later. With the cloak covering her body once more, Hermione cleared the area of spells and even the spell residue. She slipped back into the secret staircase. Umbridge stood sentry up until the moment she emerged from the broom cupboard with the cloak back in her bag and told her to stop. It all seemed too easy, but it was proof that maybe she would be able to carry through with her ridiculous plan.