June 22nd

Hermione was ready for the week to end. It was funny to her how much she'd changed in her time away from her old life. Just as she'd done when she was a student at Hogwarts, with a time turner and without, she often worked herself longer hours than was healthy. She once found joy and fulfillment in her career. Even on the days that ended with her covered in the fluids of another human being, she loved what she did. It made her feel powerful in a world where power was limited and usually out of reach.

By the middle of Friday afternoon, she was tired of pretending she was interested in working. She and Rabastan had already come up with a plan to arrest Theodore on the day he returned from his honeymoon the next week. Rabastan could hardly talk about the wretched man's honeymoon without laughing. They both hoped that the potion he slipped in his drink would keep him unable to perform his husbandly duties until the new couple was back on familiar soil. It was the least they could do for the poor girl forced to marry him.

"His house-elf says he will be back home next Friday. We can put in an order for some of the more competent Snatchers to arrest him early Saturday morning. It's always more fun to catch them sleeping."

"How were you able to get his house-elf to give you any information?"

Rabastan's dramatic sigh quickly got on Hermione's nerves. He could be infuriatingly patronizing when she asked him questions.

"You would think that after almost thirty years in the wizarding world, you might have had an opportunity to discover that house-elves are terrible gossips."

"We don't have a house-elf in our home, Rabastan. You know that."

"Ahh, yes, of course. The Dolohovs have always been so disgustingly progressive, haven't you?"

It was an old argument. She refused to be pulled into another discussion where she would be forced to give her reasons yet again for not allowing a house-elf in her home. Antonin respected her wishes. That was all that mattered. They'd been able to get along just fine without an enslaved creature, whether happy or disgruntled about said enslavement, serving them. Rabastan was a pampered overgrown brat that had yet to learn how to be self-sufficient.

"Yes, well, I had my house-elf Tippy visit the Nott Estate days ago. She has a cousin or a brother or an uncle, doesn't really matter, who is bound to the Notts. All it took was a couple of bottles of Rosmerta's best butterbeer and Theodore's elf was happy to share all he knew."

"Hardly seems fair to use…"

The sharp pain in her left arm came as a complete surprise. Hissing at the sensation she hadn't felt in a long time, Hermione forgot what she was going to say next. One glance at Rabastan's wide eyes proved that she was the only one of the two being summoned. When she touched the sleeve covering her Dark Mark, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. No doubt he wanted to know why she was being summoned and he wasn't. Making her excuses, she rushed out of the office to the nearest Apparition point.

Based on what she'd learned from her husband since her return, he was the only one issuing the summonses those days. Few knew he had the capability. It was thought best that he keep that as secretive as possible. None of their enemies needed to know how far gone their master truly was. Convinced that it was just Antonin seeking to get her immediate attention, Hermione didn't feel any less worried about the random summons. What was so important that he couldn't just send her an owl or wait until she got home? The end of the day was near. She would've been home soon. Such a dramatic gesture wasn't necessary.

Outside of the protective wards of the Ministry, Hermione touched the tip of her wand to her Dark Mark. Moments later her feet touched down just outside of the gates of Hogwarts grounds. Her anxious husband stood waiting. When she arrived, he reached out to grab her arms. Something was clearly troubling him.

"He wants to see you."

No further explanation was needed. She knew exactly who her husband meant by 'he'. Delaying the inevitable would do nothing but make their master angry. Hermione had plenty of experience witnessing the Dark Lord get upset and had no desire to see it again. A large part of her believed Antonin when he said that he would kill Lord Voldemort before he followed through with an order to hurt her again. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the open gates.

There was a bustle of activity all over the grounds. Final exams were over. All of the excited students were preparing themselves for a nice, long summer holiday. In less than a week they would all be returning home. Hermione tried to ignore the dread she felt knowing Oliver would be back in their house in mere days. What would it be like to live with her son again? Would she be able to handle it? She didn't want him to know how confused his mother actually was. Their one visit had been pleasant, but only because they weren't together long enough for him to ask her why she tried to kill his father on his birthday. That was a conversation she would've given anything to never have to have.

"Do you know why he wants to see me?"

"Not a clue. He sent one of the house-elves to find me about an hour ago. We were talking and he asked about you. I told him that you were back from your traveling. He demanded to see you immediately."

To keep the secret of her defection from their master, Antonin spun an elaborate lie about her traveling. The Dark Lord's mind had become so rotten and diseased that he couldn't always remember what he was told. Even repeating the same lie over and over again worked at times. Fearing that he might have already been told that she was back in Hogsmeade, Antonin didn't want to risk lying. While he knew that no other Death Eaters had access to their master, he wasn't sure what the house-elves who served him were telling him. Being honest was really the only option at that point. With Oliver still within the castle walls, they couldn't risk him being used to punish his parents.

The Dark Lord kept his private quarters down in the dungeons, several long corridors away from the students and classrooms. Similar to the Slytherin common room, his main living space had windows that looked out onto the Black Lake. When Hermione used to come to make her weekly reports about the progress of her department, she hated the chill that was always present in the air. It felt dank and dismal.

Once they were down the main dungeon corridor, the students that were happily wandering through the castle disappeared completely. There were very strict rules about where they were allowed to roam in the lowest parts of the castle. No one, not even the children of the most loyal and honored Death Eaters, wanted to be anywhere near the private rooms that belonged to the leader of their government.

They didn't speak again until they stood outside the familiar door. Hermione could feel her heart beating rapidly against her chest. What if he was strong enough to use Legilimency on her and he could tell that she was lying about her whereabouts the previous year? Or worse, what if he could see what she'd been doing? Occlumency was a skill she'd learned, naturally, but it didn't come easily. She feared that lack of practice would be her downfall. Before she reached for the doorknob to the room she despised, Antonin gently grabbed her arm. She could see the fear present in his eyes too. They both would need to take a moment to calm themselves before they entered or they'd be at risk of exposing their secrets.

"You will find him much altered since the last time you were here. He tires easily, so this shouldn't take long. Try not to let your disgust show on your face. He doesn't… he doesn't like that."

Antonin pressed his lips against hers, lingering longer than she expected. It was bizarre seeing him so worried. He might have offered her an encouraging smile, but it didn't help. She was prepared for the worst.

It was so much worse than she could have ever imagined. The night Antonin complained about the smell, she thought he'd been overdramatic. He'd always been the sort of person to enter their home when the rubbish bin was fuller than it should've been to complain that the entire house reeked. Every tiny smell seemed to set him off. When she was pregnant with Oliver, her sensitivity to smells wasn't nearly as strong as his. But, the moment she stepped into the room where the Dark Lord was quite literally rotting away, she knew there had been no exaggeration on her husband's part. She could feel the sandwich she'd quickly devoured in the Ministry canteen begin to swirl around her stomach.

The Dolohovs dropped to their knees in front of the long sofa their master was draped across. Fearing to look him in the eye, Hermione didn't dare lift her gaze to take in how truly altered the wizard she once was proud to serve had become. Knowing that she had to keep playing the game if she wished to stay alive, she called forth all of her reserves of strength.

"My Lord, it is a pleasure to see you looking so well."

His harsh laughter always felt painful to her ears. She didn't understand how something so otherworldly could come out of his mouth. How his broken body was still able to make sounds didn't matter. She just wanted it to stop.

"You've been away a long time."

"Yes, my Lord, and I have learned a great deal."

"I look forward to hearing a full account of your travels when there is more time to speak later."

"Yes, my Lord. I would be honored."

"Why do you not look at me?"

Lifting her gaze to meet his was harder than she expected. Thanks to his brutal ritual in the graveyard that held his Muggle father's remains, he'd been given a body that was far from human-looking. Years of the Dark magic required to keep the shell operating when it should have been dust had taken their toll. He was the monster of every child's nightmare. Staring into the deep red slits that he possessed for eyes made her dizzy and fearful. When his cracked lips smiled, she could see the blood coating the inside of his mouth. Sores were weeping and seeping over every part of his bare skin she could see. There were certain to be more she couldn't. Nothing Antonin told her about his appearance was a lie. He was more grotesque than even she could've imagined.

"Every day I'm growing stronger. Soon I will be able to walk out of this room again and when I do, I must be certain that my most loyal followers are still loyal only to me."

"Yes, my Lord. My life and my magic are yours."

Satisfied with the pledge she'd given him countless times over the years, the Dark Lord dismissed them both from his presence only moments later. Despite his claim that he was getting stronger, all evidence pointed to the contrary. His mind was well and truly gone. Antonin repeated her words and took her hand in his. She was grateful for the additional support. Her legs rarely moved faster than they did in the moments she rushed to her escape.

Antonin was only just able to close the door behind them before her sandwich made its reappearance on the stone floor.