June 26th

Hermione could practically smell the end of her mission in sight and it was welcome. The longer she remained living in her former life, the more she feared that she wouldn't be able to leave again. Every day her world grew just a little more complicated. Antonin certainly wasn't helping. His care and concern for her was only making her stay more difficult. She thought it strange that she almost longed for the days when they fought over every little tiny thing in their lives instead of the cool peace that existed between them.

As she stood over the bubbling cauldron placed on the kitchen table of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she felt calm. Even as she sometimes dreaded the return of the home's master, she knew that for at least a few minutes each day she could be assured that checking on her cauldron would help to settle her nerves. The polyjuice potion was her ticket out of there. Once she had Aberforth safely out of the Ministry, she would leave too. Not just the job she loathed, but the entire life that she built next to her husband.

When everything grew too stressful and she began to fear that she would never be successful, she would remind herself to take a deep breath. As she exhaled, she would imagine the first place she would go the moment she had the freedom to disappear. Her time in Cardiff gave her the idea of stowing away on a cargo ship headed for international waters. She didn't much care what its final destination was. Finding a quiet corner to shield herself in from the unsuspecting Muggles was the best first step she could imagine. Antonin and his associates would scour the country's transportation services, checking for unauthorized portkeys, and magical residue left behind by her wand. She didn't think he would consider the ships. They weren't nearly as fast and efficient as other methods of escape.

Every day she practiced cloaking her magic with her untraceable wand. It would be a bit of wrench to have to give up the wand she'd been using for the better part of her adult life, but in the end, it was just a wand after all. Her freedom meant just a little bit more. She wanted to prepare herself for the day when she would have to resort entirely to the cloaked magic. Of course, there was always a hope that when the Dark Lord died, the new regime that took over would do away with the Trace entirely. If her husband no longer had access to the Ministry's method of monitoring magic, she wouldn't even need to hide what she was doing from anyone other than Muggles.

The sound of footsteps on the creaking stairs dragged her out of her thoughts. She hadn't seen Draco in almost a week. Not since they had their tense conversation in the very same room about why he taught William Wood his secret how to track so effectively. It was also one of the only times that they were alone together since she ran out of his flat on Oliver's birthday that they didn't so much as even touch. Their conversation that day didn't last more than just a few minutes, but that never stopped him before.

Neither of them were in a rush to speak this visit. Hermione kept her attention focused on the potion. Draco leaned up against the table in much the same manner he had when they were alone in the kitchen the last time. She could feel his eyes on her, watching every move she made. It was as unnerving as much of their relationship, or whatever it was that existed between them, had been since they first renewed their acquaintance.

"What did you mean the other day when you said that Wood only controls me as long as he is alive?"

She would've thought that her meaning was obvious, but perhaps their experiences serving the Dark Lord all of those years had been remarkably different. Draco did have a tendency to stay on the sidelines away from the action as much as physically possible. His first real mission as a Death Eater was to murder Albus Dumbledore, a mission he failed dismally. If it hadn't been for Severus Snape, there was simply no way to tell how the rest of the war would've gone. Maybe the Order of the Phoenix could've rallied. It was a long shot, practically impossible. Still, there were enough stubborn Gryffindors in the organization to keep the fight going at least a little bit longer.

Draco's failure at murder when he was a teenager might have been the beginning of a career where he wasn't trusted to get his hands dirty like the rest of them. Important missions couldn't be entrusted to someone that had a weak stomach and the inability to utter the killing curse. His skills as a tracker were very likely the only thing keeping him alive. She thought it unlikely that he hadn't been forced to kill for their master. But, perhaps unlike her, his thoughts didn't go straight to murder when it came to a pesky enemy.

"Exactly what I said, Draco. You are only under Wood's control as long as he is alive. If he's no longer alive, you're no longer under his control."

Setting the stirring rod down on the table next to the cauldron, Hermione turned to look at the wizard. He was thinner than he had been. Dark circles were clear under his exhausted eyes. His pale skin was an unhealthy pallor that made him appear to be sick. Maybe he was. If he was still keeping up the punishing tracking schedule he kept as a way to avoid the rest of the Inner Circle and their dying master, she wouldn't be surprised. He probably hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks, months even.

"You look terrible."

Instead of being offended, his lips split into an amused grin. She found the expression to be catching. When Draco chuckled, she fought the urge and lost. With the tension that existed between them broken somewhat, each of them relaxed, though not entirely. It was dangerous to let one's guard down in front of a potential enemy. And despite the number of times they'd called the other's name out while they were naked in bed, they were still potentially enemies. Hermione allowed herself to forget that fact briefly while she lived in his flat. That had been a dangerous move, one she wouldn't repeat.

Draco moved away from the edge of the table, walking slowly towards her end. The temperature in the room seemed to rise and she didn't think it had anything to do with her close proximity to an open flame. How was it that even though she didn't trust the man, she found herself eager to see what would happen when they were alone? She didn't know what he was up to, what his plans for helping her were. Experience taught her to be wary of someone who offered assistance for seemingly no reason. There would always be a moment when they would finally name their price.

"If you figured out a way to kill Wood, your secret would be safe."

She thought that her words earlier were enough of an explanation, but the closer he got to her, the more nervous she became. It was all ridiculous. They'd been together many times in the past since that first night with the fire whiskey. While she was living in his flat, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. What was so different now?

"I've missed you."

His fingertips lightly brushed her forearm. Goosebumps prickled up on the skin he touched. Seeming to sense that he was making her nervous, Draco grinned, and moved even closer. Her brain began to muddle, just as it always did when he was near. She could rarely think clearly when he was near enough that she could smell the scent of his expensive cologne. Reminiscent of the times that she grew confused about her surroundings or her memories, she felt fuzzyheaded in his close proximity. Was she under a spell? Or was it something much less sinister?

"Somehow I doubt that."

Draco's eyes narrowed.

"You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure I can believe anything you tell me, Draco."

It was honest, if not kind. She didn't really have time to worry whether or not she hurt his feelings. They were both adults. If she did, he could get over it. There was truth in what she said. She couldn't believe everything that he said. Not when he was being so secretive about what his motivations were or his end goal. She wanted at least some sign that he wasn't about to curse her in the back.

"I hardly think that's fair."

"Why not? You've never once explained to me what you want from me."

They lived in a society where no one did anything based solely on the goodness within their hearts. She knew that she was cracked, her brain certainly not what it once was. That didn't mean she was foolish enough to believe a lie. Undeterred by her admission, Draco closed the distance between their two bodies, effectively pinning her against the table. There was no escape unless she wanted to resort to more drastic measures. His hands found her hips. Squeezing them, but not enough to hurt, he leaned down to brush his mouth just outside the shell of her ear.

"Maybe all I want from you is you."

She would be a fool to trust his pretty words. That was a mistake she'd made time and time again in her past. Trusting a man who had desire on his mind was dangerous. Rarely did it work out in her favor. Hermione closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to slow down.

"I think you're just using me, but I'm not sure for what yet."

He didn't immediately deny what she said. Either he didn't want to lie to her or he wasn't even listening. Based on the way his eyes were staring at her lips, she suspected the latter. He chose to cover them with his before saying another word. Hermione discovered she didn't really mind. It was a conversation that eventually they were going to have to have. The sneaking around couldn't go on forever. But, for the moment, she was going to enjoy it while she could.