June 13th

With no clue to her husband's whereabouts, Hermione spent a great deal of time thinking and wondering where Antonin ran off to. Returning to an empty home was once a feeling that she loved, but it now felt odd. Somehow in the past month she'd gotten used to living with the man again. To not have him in bed next to her, as he had been for the better part of thirteen years, was more unnerving than she wanted to think about.

There had been no further information provided her regarding the Dark Lord's condition. She got the impression that only something truly serious would make Antonin leave the country even for just a few days. If their master's condition was as dire as he claimed it was, at any moment they could discover he was truly dead. Why would Antonin risk missing being home for that possibility?

She decided that there was no sense in trying to uncover any of the man's secrets. It wasn't her problem. There was only one reason why she was back in Hogsmeade. As long as Aberforth was still languishing in his cell on Level Eleven, she would pretend to be the dutiful wife of the feared Death Eater. If it was required of her to maintain her cover, she was even willing to pretend to be a loyal Death Eater again herself. The moment Dumbledore was out of the Ministry and safely on his way back to the Resistance, she was leaving. Nothing that Antonin had to say would entice her to remain. She was done with the life she'd led for twenty years. It was time that she try to move on.

Of course, it was easier said than done to not dwell too much on her husband. Sitting at home alone with nothing else to occupy her time tended to force her mind to thoughts about the man. His behavior since she returned had been very secretive. Where exactly were his loyalties? There was a time in her life when she knew without question that he was one hundred percent committed and loyal to Lord Voldemort. Something changed and she wondered what it was.

She recalled the night they spoke about the Dark Lord dying. He'd been more upset than she could remember when he spoke of how their master resorted to truly Dark magic to keep himself alive. Though one to utilize Dark magic to suit his own purposes, what the Dark Lord asked him to do was much worse. What had he done? What was so terrible that he'd been on the verge of bursting out into tears over their kitchen table just thinking about it again? She couldn't remember ever seeing her husband so undone.

Spending another evening alone inside her Hogsmeade home would likely drive her even further round the bend. Once she returned from her daily trip to Number Twelve to check on the progress of the potion that was the only hope she had for helping Dumbledore, she knew she couldn't bear to just sit in there waiting for it to be late enough to go to bed. When she was alone she was more tempted to seek out the illicit potions she knew she shouldn't take. Much more harmful than the ones Antonin insisted she take to clear her mind, she knew that once she swallowed another, she wouldn't be able to stop. Not until she was dead.

Draco hadn't bothered to stop by the house he inherited when she was in. Her curiosity about the meeting he was required to attend in the Resistance village was strong. The next time they were alone again, she wouldn't let him touch her until he answered some of her questions. That was assuming, of course, that she ever wanted him near her again after learning about his alliance with William Wood. How much more did the horrible man know?

Deciding that she couldn't sit alone in her house another moment, Hermione stepped outside into the cool evening air. Thanks to its proximity to the Dark Lord, there was always activity in Hogsmeade. It wasn't always the most enjoyable sorts of activity, but at least she knew that she would be able to find something to preoccupy her mind without resorting to breaking the promise she made to Kingsley Shacklebolt and then again to her husband. Besides, a walk through the village was healthy. She'd been far too stagnant and inactive since her return.

"Hello there, Princess."

Only steps away from The Three Broomsticks, she found her opportunity to kill a few hours. She didn't even see Thorfinn Rowle until after he spoke. Her mind was far away.

"Hello."

Neither of them had seen the other since the day she stumbled into the same Muggle cafe he was eating in. She couldn't help but think that fate was a funny thing. As much as she always scoffed and turned her nose up at the very idea of Divination and intuition, she wondered sometimes if there wasn't something to it all. Just because she was more comfortable with kinds of magic that could be studied and learned out of a book didn't mean there didn't exist variations that required instinct. Maybe she was meant to run into Thorfinn that day and the fates intervened. Snorting softly, she rolled her eyes. Maybe there was some truth to her being crazy.

"I'm starving and Hannah took our youngest with her to her dad's again. Want to come inside and keep me company? I'll buy you a pint."

She always had a hard time saying no to the massive giant of a man. Even when they didn't like each other much just after the war ended, she found herself being easily persuaded to do something or go somewhere by him. That same persuasiveness also lifted her skirts a few memorable evenings. Until Hufflepuff Hannah captured his heart. It was a running joke amongst the Death Eaters that since the two of them met, Thorfinn wasn't even aware that other women existed in the world. Some thought she was a weakness, others were envious of what they found.

Very little about The Three Broomsticks changed in the years since she was a student. Madam Rosmerta was a bit older and the clientele a bit more dangerous thanks to the Death Eaters running the village, but Hermione could almost close her eyes and imagine that the man she was seated across from was Harry or Ron and this was another Hogsmeade Saturday before their world turned to shite. Despite being an extremely talkative man, often to his detriment, Thorfinn had little to say as he filled his belly. Food was more important than speaking. It made his dining companion laugh. Sometimes he was little more than a child. She envied his ability to push aside the horrible deeds he'd witnessed to always find humor and something good in his world instead. Sometimes she was entirely too pessimistic.

She hated to admit that she missed anyone, but she really missed the time she used to spend with Thorfinn. And Hannah too, really. The four of them used to spend many evenings together. Their children were growing up together. Antonin always teased Oliver that choosing which of the Rowle girls to fall in love with would be the most important decision he ever made. Nothing would make him happier than to have his son marry into that family. Hermione just tried not to think about that day. Surely they had years before they needed to consider who would be their daughter-in-law? But, she knew that Hannah was just as keen as Antonin. She loved Oliver almost as much as she loved her daughters. With their families so intertwined, it wasn't unreasonable for Hermione to admit that she missed them. Years as a Death Eater hiding her true feelings, however, kept her from saying so.

"Do you actually chew your food or just swallow it whole?"

Thorfinn looked up from his plate to wink and give her a cheeky grin. It wasn't the first time she asked him the same question. Where he managed to put the food he ate was beyond her. Even considering his height and his impressive muscular physique, she would assume that someone who ate as much as he did would weigh at least nine hundred pounds. She envied his metabolism.

"I haven't seen you around the village, Princess. You been hiding from me?"

Truthfully, she'd seen hardly anyone since she returned. Unless they worked at the Ministry, her path didn't cross the paths of her former comrades. Antonin's intention to keep her away from the bulk of the Death Eaters made it even more difficult. Not that she cared. Life was easier when she didn't have to keep up the appearance of being who she used to be for very long.

"No, not hiding. I've been at home every night for over a month now. You could've just walked over if you wanted."

"I know Antonin is relieved to have you back. He seems much calmer now."

"If you say so."

She didn't really want to get into a conversation about her husband. Especially not if it was going to turn into a discussion about how worried he was about her or how much he truly loved and cared for her. No one knew more about her relationship with Antonin than she did. What went on in their home behind closed doors was no one else's business. He'd proven time and time again what a talented actor he was. She wasn't going to allow Thorfinn to convince her that Antonin felt something he didn't. Thorfinn, despite being a surprisingly intelligent man, either didn't get the hint or wasn't interested in changing the subject.

"Your absence was hard on him. When he woke up in the hospital…"

"I know. He went mad with worry about me. Tried to get out of bed to go find me. Had to be sedated."

Thorfinn set his fork down on his empty plate. Lifting one eyebrow, he stared at Hermione for several beats. His scrutiny was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable when he finally spoke.

"And you don't believe that's true?"

Hermione sighed. When she went for a walk through the village, this wasn't how she expected her evening to go. Maybe she should've stayed home after all. Leaving her house didn't keep her thoughts from becoming consumed by her confusing husband anyway.

"There's a lot you don't know about my marriage, Thorfinn. About our past. Let's just leave it at that."

At first, he seemed as if he wanted to argue. Opening his mouth, he closed it almost immediately. They each took a sip of their butterbeer in silence. When his glass was empty, Thorfinn set it down and reached across the table to place his hand on top of hers. He was suddenly quite serious, very unlike his usual silliness.

"I don't know who or what you've seen in the past year, Princess, but it's very important that you remain loyal to your husband."

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I haven't been loyal to Antonin at any point in our marriage, Thorfinn. That's not exactly a secret."

"What you do in bed is none of my business. I mean loyal to him publicly. Everyone needs to know that you support him."

"Why? Who cares what I think?"

"You have more influence than you realize."

Even though she wasn't convinced, she didn't want to argue with the man. She made a promise that she would consider what he said before excusing herself to go home. Being alone in an empty house no longer sounded like a terrible way to spend the rest of the evening.