June 25th

The infamous and feared Intelligence Division within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was abuzz with activity Monday morning. Even Rabastan managed to make it into the office earlier than his usual ten o'clock. Hermione knew that they were closing in on the day when they would finally bring in Theodore Nott for his interrogation. Despite not wishing to resume her former activities down in Level Eleven, even she couldn't deny the fact that she was looking forward to standing over his bound and terrified form in a locked side room. Just the thought of the interrogations she used to perform multiple times a week made her hands tremble and her stomach churn, but not, oddly, where Nott was concerned.

After Antonin's emotional confession over the weekend, her hatred for the wretched Nott was even worse. In twenty years, Hermione had never had much use for the elder Nott. He was a relic of a past era where the Pureblood elitists ruled the magical world with a iron hand. Never had another family taken as much pride in being a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. A collection of Pureblood families that could trace the purity of their bloodlines for dozens of generations, Theodore's relative was the famous Cantankerous Nott who devoted most of his miserable life extolling the virtues of blood purity and compiling an in-depth analysis and history for each of the families. Theodore was an example of everything that was wrong with the worst of the Purebloods.

Blood purity laws had been relaxed somewhat under the rule of the Dark Lord. Very few alive knew the details of their master's lineage, but he was pragmatic enough to not allow the worst of the blood supremacists to rid their world of those they deemed of lesser value as long as they still had their uses. Hermione supposed she was grateful for the opportunity to flourish under his reign. If someone like Theodore Nott was able to take the mantle of leadership, there would be no place for her and others like her beyond a prison cell or a grave. She could only imagine the wretched ideas he and his ilk had in mind for Muggle-borns.

Once, when the fire whiskey was flowing during a celebration of some victory over the Resistance or another one of the splinter rebellion groups that propped up over the years following Harry's death, Theodore Nott engaged the highest ranking Mudblood in a conversation that made Hermione's skin crawl. It was before she was ordered to marry Antonin and during the years Augustus thought he was doing her a favor by breaking off their relationship. Much about those years passed by in a drunken blur, but she would never forget that particular night of debauchery.

Held in the lavish Lestrange Manor, she'd been looking around the room trying to decide whose bed she was going to tumble into that night. Many of the revelers were already descending into the sexual antics that would've once upon a time made the witch blush. She learned quickly in the ranks of the Death Eaters that a great deal of power could be wielded using the talents afforded her as a woman. Prudes had no place amongst those that bathed in blood and viscera. Antonin, standing on the edge of the room, caught her eye. He'd been drinking, but not yet to excess. The way his deep brown eyes latched on to hers and held her gaze left little room for misinterpretation. Her husband had a way of making her feel like she was the only one in the entire room, even long before they were married. Curiosity of what she might discover if she allowed herself to finally let the wizard take her to bed encouraged her first step in his direction.

"Lovely party, is it not, Miss Granger?"

She fought the urge to groan when Theodore caught her arm. Antonin's glower from across the room would've killed the odious man if looks alone had that power. Knowing that she couldn't afford to create a powerful enemy like Nott, Hermione smiled brightly, resisting again the urge to tell him to bugger off. He wasn't in the habit of approaching her for any reason. Ordinarily, she was so far beneath his notice to almost be considered invisible. She didn't mind. She loathed him and the others of the Old Guard who could still remember the early days of the Dark Lord's rise to power.

"Yes, it's quite amusing."

"There was a time when rubbish like you would be the evening's entertainment."

Disgusted, Hermione wrenched her arm out of his grip. The fury evident on her features only made the horrible man laugh. Lowering his voice, he spoke so she alone in the entire world could make out his words.

"Perhaps one day soon our world will return to the way it once was. I would very much like to make an example out of you."

Even seventeen years after that party, Hermione had never told anyone what Theodore Nott told her. It unnerved her so that she didn't want to give the slightest bit of credence to his words. But, there was no denying that if given the opportunity to take over as the new Dark Lord, he would use his power to wreak havoc on a number of people's lives… her's included. She would become less than a slave and her end would be drawn out. Nott wasn't going to give her the sweet escape of death until he'd thoroughly and completely broken her. So there were many reasons why she was willing to push aside the disgust that usually came with the thought of returning to her old occupation.

The plan was to have him arrested in the early morning hours following his return from his honeymoon. Hermione wasn't sure how she was going to remain patient enough to wait the rest of the week for that day to arrive. Neither, it seemed, was Rabastan. She knew that Nott's request to marry his eldest daughter rankled him, but she thought his response was a bit extreme. Was he really just upset that the horrible man had the nerve to believe that his sixteen year old daughter would make him a good wife or was there something more? Rarely had she seen her Co-Head so animated when it came to the idea of an arrest and subsequent interrogation. She found him amusing, if not a little disconcerting. Any time she didn't understand the man's motivations, she was nervous. He was very dangerous.

Just before she had to make the decision where to spend her lunch hour, a knock at the door surprised both of the office's occupants. Expecting it to simply be her worthless assistant she hadn't even bothered to get rid of yet, Hermione glanced up from the file she was reviewing. Alecto Carrow stood in the doorway smiling. In the time since she'd been back to Hogsmeade and the Ministry, the women hadn't seen each other once. For reasons that were obvious to anyone who knew how much their families loathed each other, she hadn't been invited to Theodore's wedding reception. No doubt Alecto had been inconsolable at the thought of missing out on that wretched event.

"Allie, what are you doing here?"

"I was in the Ministry today. Hoped we could have lunch."

Hermione crossed the room to greet the older witch with a warm hug. It really had been quite selfish of her to not make the effort to at least drop in on her friend in the past several weeks. She'd been kind to her when she was on the run especially when she put herself in danger to do so. Antonin could've easily held it against her if he'd known.

"Of course. That sounds lovely."

Once they both rolled their eyes at an obnoxious remark from Rabastan about offering to make it a threesome inside the restaurant and then in a lovely inn he knew about for dessert, the two women headed for the lifts. Not wishing to spend another meal at the canteen, Hermione suggested a tea room in Diagon Alley. Thanks to the fireplaces in the Atrium connected to the Floo network, they were able to arrive at their intended location in just a few minutes. Though no one would ever explicitly admit so, the Marks on their arms ensured that they were given a table the moment they entered the front door.

They were halfway through their salads and in the middle of some innocuous story about Alecto's latest frustrations with her job at the Daily Prophet when the entire tone of the conversation shifted. Either Alecto was trying to ease them into the real reason they were meeting or she'd been nervous.

"I was shocked to hear that you were back home. How did Antonin finally catch you?"

Hermione sipped at her glass of water, desperate for anything to keep her mouth occupied just another moment longer. It was only ever going to be a matter of time before she had to answer the uncomfortable questions. Avoiding Alecto forever wasn't going to be an option.

"Actually, I went home on my own."

The widening of her blue-green eyes proved that that was a surprise to Alecto.

"I had no idea. Very interesting."

"How is that interesting?"

"No need to get defensive, Hermione. I just meant that I'm surprised. When we saw each other last, you were determined to stay as far away from your husband as possible. Has something changed?"

She didn't know how to answer the question convincingly. It wasn't as if she could admit that the only reason she even considered returning to her husband was because she felt an obligation to free Aberforth Dumbledore from the prison she didn't mean to put him in. That was a dangerous admission that she couldn't afford to make. As close as they'd gotten over the years as some of the only female Death Eaters in the Inner Circle, Hermione felt certain that she couldn't actually trust Alecto with that secret. In fact, the longer they were around each other, the more she began to wonder if she could trust her at all.

"No, nothing changed, Allie. Nothing except I was tired of running."

"And you missed your family?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Alecto's scoff of a laugh indicated that it was. Over the years, they'd shared a lot of secrets. She knew more about Hermione's marriage than almost anyone else. And, she was also well aware of the hag in Knockturn Alley. Alecto had been the one to give her the address in the first place.

"It does seem like rather suspicious timing, love. Everything is so up in the air right now. We all know that it's about to get rather chaotic in the days to come. Your sudden return does seem to indicate that you've made your public decision of where your loyalties lie."

If the woman's purpose was to try to wrangle out of Hermione the truth of who she would follow when the Dark Lord succumbed to his illness, she wasn't being very subtle about that fact. Hermione wasn't even sure what her decision was herself. Even if she did, she learned a long time ago that it was best to keep her own counsel in those matters.

"I'm sure I don't have the first clue what you mean, Allie."

That was her own not-so-subtle indication that she was done talking about that topic. The rest of the meal passed in an odd, stilted conversation so unlike how they usually conversed. Hermione was thankful when the check was paid and they were rising to their feet.

"Let's do this again very soon."

Alecto pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. Lasting only a few moments, when they broke apart, the older witch rushed out of the restaurant claiming to be in a bit of a rush. Hermione picked off a coarse, white hair that clung to the front of her robes where Alecto's clothes rubbed hers. Maybe she got a cat in the months since they'd seen each other last. It didn't matter. She was just glad the meal was over.