June 29th

Friday was an exciting day at the Ministry. Even if most of the souls who worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were ignorant of the importance of the day, they could feel the excitement seeping out of the Intelligence Division. Rabastan could hardly sit still all day. Though it would normally annoy Hermione to no end that he couldn't keep his attention focused on a single task for long, she couldn't fault him for being happy. It wasn't every day that they were given the opportunity to arrest a high-ranking member of the Inner Circle.

In even the recent past, they would have been expected to go straight to the Dark Lord with their suspicions that one of their own was guilty of a terrible crime. Betrayal and sabotage were nothing new in their ranks. Part of ensuring that one was even able to stay in the highest echelon of Lord Voldemort's elite followers was being ever ready to utilize harsh tactics over each other. Curses in the back was not an uncommon phenomenon. But, in his healthier days when he was able to take a more hands-on approach to leadership, their master would have to give them permission to arrest Theodore Nott. It truly was a sign that the world was changing that neither of the Co-Heads even considered taking their concerns up with the wizard they were sworn to follow.

Theodore Nott Senior was once a highly respected Death Eater. His glory days, however, were long behind him. Why he thought that he would be a viable replacement to their leader was confusing. No one trusted him. Not even his own son wanted anything to do with him. The Dark Lord only kept him around because of a sense of nostalgia. Apparently the decaying of his body also robbed him of his memories of the other wizard's frequent failures. He stepped up after Macnair mysteriously disappeared years earlier to aid their master in whatever was required to keep his rotting shell functioning. That used to count for something. No longer.

The arrest wasn't going to happen until either the late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning. Experience taught them that the best way to capture a particularly difficult subject was to barge into their home when they were fast asleep. The disorientation that most of them felt when first waking up was usually enough of an advantage to those serving the warrants. So was catching the subject in a particular passionate encounter. Naked suspects rarely ran. Nott might have been nearing the century mark, but he was not someone they should easily discount. His repertoire of deadly curses was impressive.

Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to get any additional work done while they waited thanks to Rabastan's almost giddy mood, Hermione made her excuses to leave early for the day. Her Co-Head didn't mind. He would probably be doing the same soon anyway. They were likely to have long hours ahead of them. Best to get some rest when they could.

She didn't feel the same eyes watching her when she arrived on Grimmauld Place. A survey of the area didn't turn up any suspicious characters, but thanks to her unexpected visit with Kingsley the day before, she was feeling uncharacteristically paranoid. She took her time entering the house, waiting only until she was positive no one was watching her. It was a good thing that there were only a few more days left before the polyjuice potion was ready. She was growing weary of her daily visits.

Once she was satisfied that the potion was still progressing nicely and when it was evident that Draco wouldn't be making a visit, she cloaked her magic to Apparate to the woods surrounding her village. A short stroll through nature helped to calm her nerves. Never in her life did she ever consider herself a big fan of the outdoors, but she couldn't deny how much peace could be found in the wild. By the time she made it to her front door, she was in a much better mood.

Antonin was still home when she entered. Surprised to see her home so early, he smiled. An unexpected ache in Hermione's chest made her temporarily forget to breathe. How much simpler would their lives have been over the years if she could've loved her husband at least half as much as he loved her? It was a common regret she'd had over thirteen years of marriage. Likely she'd feel the same way until the day she died. In an odd burst of affection that would probably leave Antonin confused, she crossed the room to kiss him in greeting. Usually, he was the one who initiated any sort of physical affection.

The kiss didn't last long. Hardly even a proper press of her lips against his, the gesture was huge. Startled at first by his wife's move, Antonin didn't respond until the moment she broke the kiss to pull away. Reasserting their usual roles, her husband pulled her into his arms to claim her mouth with his. Their actions didn't escalate to anything beyond a few minutes of heated kissing, but it was just enough to thoroughly bewilder Hermione's senses. She knew she had to get out of his web before she was well and truly caught. He was a complication her already complicated life didn't need right then.

"We will be arresting Theodore either late tonight or early tomorrow morning."

Realizing he was being dismissed, Antonin didn't even bother to hide the hurt feelings written all over his face. He composed himself quickly, the moment of vulnerability gone. Hermione pretended not to notice the effect she had on him. It was much easier to ignore than to acknowledge. They broke apart to move to the sofa. At least she was prepared to offer him a conversation. That was more than she did in the past.

"That's good news. What are his charges exactly?"

Hermione waved her hand in a dismissive manner. The details didn't interest her in the slightest. All that mattered was Nott would soon be down on Level Eleven and no one had any intentions of letting him leave.

"Rabastan took care of all of that."

"And you're not concerned that it might all be some scheme on Rabastan's part? They've been seen meeting in private."

She wasn't sure what compelled her to keep speaking. Some topics were better left undiscussed, but she didn't like the idea of Antonin not knowing what she did. It seemed unfair. In a competition that was literally life and death, she didn't want him ignorant. Maybe some of what she knew could help save his life. Just because she didn't love him didn't mean she wanted him to die.

"Rabastan hates Theodore. They're not working together at all. He's been anxious to arrest him."

"Then why would they have met in private?"

"Theodore wanted to marry Rabastan's eldest daughter."

Antonin's eyes narrowed at the explanation. It wasn't a secret that Nott was so disgusting, but it was still bothersome. She knew without asking that her husband was every bit as horrified by the cruel ninety-something year old man asking to marry Rabastan's sixteen year old daughter as she was.

"When I asked Rabastan who he was working with, he was vehement that Theodore was not one of them."

Her statement piqued his interest.

"Did he say who he was working with?"

"No one you would be surprised about. He did, however…" She stopped herself, unsure if she should continue. Being completely honest might not serve her best interests in this case. "He asked me if I would be interested."

"Of course he did."

His sigh was one of frustration laced with sadness. Clearly he wasn't surprised that his enemies were trying to recruit his wife as an ally against him. Marriages, complicated enough with everyone else, were doubly so within the ranks of the Death Eaters. There was a very valid reason why so few Death Eater marriages lasted. Relationships were weaknesses, rarely strengths.

"Can I trust a hope that you turned him down?"

"I never answered him."

It was the truth. She saw no reason to lie. There was once a time when she wouldn't have hesitated to rise up against her husband with others. Just as there was a time when she wouldn't have dreamed of betraying him. And if she continued to be perfectly honest with him, she might even admit that she hadn't completely ruled out the possibility that she would work against him in his quest to become the next Dark Lord. If he was successful, she could never run. She would be stuck where she was for the rest of her life. At least Rabastan offered a promise that she and her son wouldn't be harmed. They could leave the country and never look back.

"Tell me honestly, Antonin. Do you really want to be the Dark Lord?"

There was a high probability that he had never been asked that question so bluntly by anyone. After years of serving as Lord Voldemort's right hand, it was naturally assumed that he would be the successor in the bizarre chance that their master died. Publicly, they were all of the opinion that he was immortal. Privately was another matter entirely. His shoulders fell with his deep sigh.

"No, I don't. Not in the slightest, but I have no choice."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. I don't trust anyone else to be in charge. Everyone else in a position to do so is too untrustworthy or unpredictable. We would be in danger, our family especially."

She knew he was right. All potential enemies would have to be eradicated by whomever was successful in ascending to the head of the regime in the wake of the Dark Lord's death. Antonin was the strongest candidate and therefore, the most likely to be trouble. He would be eliminated. To be safe, his family would probably be eliminated too. Revenge killings were so tiresome after all.

"Then why don't we pack up and just leave? Leave what's not necessary, take Ollie, and run?"

His sad smile knocked years off of his face. Some of the strain she'd seen on it since she returned disappeared. He looked more like the man she knew from her early days of living in the attic. The fingers on Antonin's right hand carded through her curls. She leaned her head into his touch. It was always soothing when he touched her hair. No one else had ever been so gentle, always careful not to snag a curl.

"If I thought for even a moment that that was what you really wanted to do, my love, I would. But, you and I both know that I've never been what you wanted."

How was she supposed to respond to something so heart-wrenching? Especially considering the fact that it was true. Hermione did the only thing she knew to do to distract him. She closed the distance between their bodies, kissing him with every ounce of sadness and regret that she had coursing through her.