June 17th

Midnight came and went and yet, Hermione was still socializing amongst the cretins she hadn't been sorry to be away from for a year. She didn't understand why it was necessary that the infernal event last into the early morning hours. Every single word that came out of the insipid guests' mouths was worthless, tedious. How was it possible that she once enjoyed being present at those farces? They used to give her the opportunity to show off, to assert her own superiority over the worst of the Pureblood supremacists. None of them were ever foolish enough to outwardly insult or challenge her. Not with her influence with the Dark Lord or her deadly husband always eager to defend her name. At Nott's hideous reception, however, she wasn't enjoying playing any of her old games.

Many of the guests, especially those she hadn't seen yet, were eager to speak with her for at least a few moments. Maybe they were all trying to figure out for themselves the true reason for her long absence. Hermione wasn't sure if she was relived or not to discover that only a few people in their society actually knew she ran away. Most were eager to swallow the carefully crafted lies in the Daily Prophet about her travels abroad. Antonin made certain that Albert Runcorn used his propaganda machine to keep all mention of his injuries and her defection from the newspapers. Albert spun many convincing tales about their actions the past year. It made returning that much easier for Hermione. Of course, there were always a few who were suspicious.

Ron didn't approach her again the entire night to her relief. Content to stay close to his wife, he spent the evening around an entirely different set of people than his former best friend. Romilda Weasley preferred the younger, more rambunctious set which suited her besotted husband just fine. Hermione and Antonin tended to surround themselves with the older, more experienced, more serious Death Eaters and their families. Rarely did those paths cross expect at large events. Everyone involved was generally happier with that fact.

One of the biggest surprises of the night was the late arrival of the entire Malfoy family. Even Narcissa was out in a lavish robe looking every bit the same haughty, proud woman she had always been. Hermione had to admire that even in the face of known enemies she refused to be cowed. Inside she might have been quaking, but it certainly wasn't noticeable. Lucius made an effort to sober up long enough to speak to everyone with the least amount of power. That, unfortunately, extended even to Hermione. She listened to him prattle on about how pleased he was to see her again and how he hoped that her travels were both relaxing and productive. Every word he said was ignored as she tried not to make it obvious she was staring at his son.

Draco might have wanted to be present at the reception even less than she did. She thought it was a bit cruel that he was expected to attend the celebration of the marriage that was designed to essentially replace his best friend, especially with his suspicions that Theodore was responsible for the explosion. While she pretended to speak with Lucius, Antonin engaged Draco in a conversation. Though she'd had plenty of experience watching her husband converse politely with one of her lovers, somehow it was different and more disconcerting with Draco. Maybe because she knew about his connection to the Resistance. There was a time in the not-so-distant past that she would've gladly turned him in for treasonous acts.

She didn't know if it was possible or even wise to try to engage Draco in a conversation of her own. It would likely seem strange to outsiders. Their past was well-known by those who attended Hogwarts at the same time and it wasn't as if either one of them had ever made an effort before to be friendly in public. She decided that keeping her distance from the tracker was the only option that made any sense.

They hadn't had an opportunity to speak since their afternoon rendezvous was interrupted by William Wood. She had a number of questions to ask Draco. Considering he was surprisingly perceptive, she got the impression he was aware and had been avoiding her ever since. She wanted to know exactly what he taught Wood and why. What was their relationship? Back in the Forest of Dean when they were staying together in the tent, she witnessed the two men shake hands. Were they friends? But then they were slightly hostile to each other in Resistance village. That could've been a show put on for her benefit. Had he been completely honest about his relationship with the man?

No, she decided. Draco was full of secrets and she was under no delusion that she would one day learn them all. She might not even learn a single one. Keeping secrets was what Death Eaters did. Secrets were currency, safeguards, traditions. To show all of one's cards was to be considered dispensable. There was no reason to be kept around if they had nothing to offer. Even the illusion of knowing more was enough for some people to skate by.

In the end, Hermione was grateful when Antonin all but dismissed the Malfoys from their presence and escorted her away to another group of guests that had to be spoken with. She felt every bit like they were on some demented political campaign trying to ensure the lowly voters' continued support of Antonin in the next election. A lifetime of similar evenings stretching ahead of her so thoroughly depressed Hermione that for the briefest of moments she worried she wouldn't be able to keep the practiced, insincere smile on her face. Only the reminder that Aberforth's successful escape from the Ministry holding cells was her escape too kept her from cursing herself in the chest. What a dismal life that would be!

"How much longer do we have to be here?"

Hermione whispered to her husband shortly after midnight. The festivities seemed to be in no hurry of winding down. Theodore Nott continued to offer elaborate toasts in an effort to be certain his guests had an opportunity to see firsthand how extensive his wine cellars were. It was disgusting. The opulent display of wealth made Hermione sick to her stomach. With their positions within the regime, it was always possible that the Dolohovs could've moved into a massive manor like Nott's. She was glad they were both content and happy to remain in their modest Hogsmeade home. Why should only three people live in a cold mansion?

"You know as well as I do that to leave before the bride and groom would be taken as the worst of insults. We can't afford that right now."

She understood the risks of angering those within the Inner Circle. The smallest perceived slight could begin a blood feud that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren would be doomed to continue. Legend had it that the bad blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys began over a substandard bottle of wine and a poorly timed joke about someone's mother generations earlier. Purebloods could be so touchy where their honor was concerned. Hermione found them all to be positively exhausting.

Doomed to remain for an undetermined amount of time, she made herself familiar with the tables that held all of the alcohol. While Antonin continued to move around the crowd in an effort to make everyone feel like he was on their side, Hermione slipped away for more to drink. In her opinion, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make that reception palatable. She picked up another glass of fire whiskey, losing count of how many she'd already consumed. In no hurry to rush back to Antonin, she lingered close to the table.

"Beautiful reception, isn't it?"

She snorted into her glass at Augustus' sarcastic remark. Always light on his feet when he wished to be, she hadn't even noticed him approach. Or she was already so intoxicated that a herd of erumpents could've come barreling through and she wouldn't have noticed. She was growing dangerously lax in her constant vigilance. That would have to be remedied before she went on the run again.

"Oh, yes. Absolutely. The new Mrs. Nott looks positively overjoyed too, don't you think?"

The poor girl had been on the verge of tears all night long. What should've been the happiest day of her life was turning into anything but. How a person could sell their child into marriage in that day and age was revolting. It had taken a great deal of effort on Hermione's part to keep her lips from curling up in a disgusted sneer when she was introduced to the bride's parents. They should have been ashamed of themselves, not grinning ear to ear like fools. She wondered if she could figure out a convincing reason for them to be arrested. If she had the chance to bring suffering to their lives, she would figure out how to get over her distaste and fear of the less pleasant aspects of her job. She especially wouldn't mind slicing the smile right off of the mother's face while she screamed. What sort of mother could damn her own child to such misery? A woman would know exactly what her innocent daughter was in for with a man like Nott as a husband.

"You've got that face you make when you want to drown someone in their own blood."

Augustus' amused chuckles brought her out of her increasingly sadistic fantasies. She granted him the smallest of smiles, but neither confirmed nor denied that he was correct in his assumptions. What happened in her mind really was no one else's business. Besides, it was liable to frighten most people, Augustus included.

"I want to apologize for my behavior at the beach."

"Augie…"

"No, don't interrupt me when I'm being serious. I was unfair to you. While I'm still very confused by why you're back with Antonin, if I truly love you, I should trust you."

It meant a lot to her for him to be so honest. She wished desperately that she could explain away the misunderstanding, tell him that she was on a mission for the Resistance, and beg him for forgiveness. All that would do was put him in danger. She placed her hand gently on his forearm.

"Thank you, Augie. I promise that one day I'll explain everything."

He appeared to be on the verge of saying something more, but was stopped by the abrupt arrival of Antonin at her side. Ignoring Augustus' presence entirely, her husband took her hand in his. One glance at his countenance proved that whatever thawing took place over the last several hours was frozen over again. He was fuming and doing his utmost to not make it obvious.

"The bride and groom are preparing to take their leave. You might have noticed if you weren't otherwise distracted."

With an apologetic look towards Augustus, she allowed Antonin to drag her away to the gates of the estate where all of the guests were gathered. She found her anger only increased when she witnessed the visible tear streaks down Mrs. Nott's face. There would be no escaping her fate that night. Hermione wondered if it was possible to kill Theodore in front of everyone and make it look like a tragic accident.

Only moments after the newlyweds disappeared into the night air for their honeymoon destination, the Dolohovs returned home. Antonin released her hand the second they were back in front of their door. Another night was spent in bed as far from each other as physically possible.