June 30th

A frantic tapping at the window of their bedroom woke both of the Dolohovs up from a sound sleep. It was unusual to receive post before the sun was up. Concerned that there was a problem or some sort of emergency, Antonin leapt up from the bed. Padding across the room completely naked thanks to their unexpected, but pleasurable late night activities, he opened the window to accept the delivery from the impatient owl. The creature flew off into the darkness before he could even offer it an affectionate ruffle of its feathers or a treat.

"It's for you."

Hermione sat up in bed, anxious to know what the contents of the letter her husband was carrying over to her contained. The moment he held out the missive, she snatched it from his hand. News that came when the sun wasn't up was rarely good. It only took her a moment to decipher the hurried scrawl. With a bright smile on her face, she threw the covers off of her body.

"The Snatchers were able to arrest the Notts without any issue. I'm needed at the Ministry."

"But Ollie is coming home today. Surely this can wait until after you come with me to pick our son up in London."

It never made much sense to her that even the residents of Hogsmeade were expected to escort their children to and from King's Cross stations in London. She thought it was a waste of time when the students who lived in the village could easily walk to the castle themselves. The argument was always made that riding aboard the Hogwarts Express was a rite of passage for all young witches and wizards. It would be unfair to deny some of the students the privilege simply because of where their parents chose to live. Regardless, she didn't see why she needed to be there to pick Oliver up with Antonin. He was perfectly capable of doing it on his own. After all, he was by himself when he took him there at the beginning of the school year.

"I'm sorry, but Ollie will just have to understand. I will see him at home."

They both knew there was no use continuing to argue. She would go to the Ministry no matter what Antonin might say. She always went to the Ministry. It was one of the main reasons why their marriage could get a bit rocky at times. Well, that and the fact that neither one of them seemed to honor the vow of 'forsaking all others'. Antonin didn't even bother to say another word. With a huff and a dramatic punch to his pillow to fluff it back up, he returned to bed. It was a shame that after such a pleasant afternoon and then again in the late hours of the night, that they should have a row. Hermione made certain to at least attempt to soothe his upset temper by kissing him goodbye.

There wasn't time to worry about the hurt feelings of either her husband or her son. If she wanted to keep her cover from being blown, she had to continue to act just like she always did when she was working. Ignoring a request from Rabastan to assist him in the office following the arrest of a high-profile suspect that was likely to create quite the scandal when the news got out was just not done. It would only be further proof that she wasn't actually back at the Ministry to do her job. She couldn't afford anyone to look too closely at her activities. Not at least until she freed Aberforth.

Rabastan was entirely too cheerful for being at the office before the sun was even up. He stood outside their office dressed just as haphazardly as his Co-Head. No other members of their Division were there yet. Surprised that he wasn't inside their office waiting for her arrival, she noticed the door was closed.

"Is Nott in there?'

He laughed.

"Oh no. He's already downstairs. All of the cells are full so I had him taken directly to one of the side rooms. He knows we're serious by now. I thought it would be amusing to have him sit there for a couple of days torturing himself with fears of what we're going to do to him."

The violent churning in her stomach began at the thought that she would have to go downstairs with him to interrogate Nott at some point. She'd hoped, perhaps naïvely, to be able to make it through her temporary return to the Ministry without getting any additional blood on her hands. There was a tremendous fear that she wouldn't be able to make it through another interrogation. Something in her changed when she was last in a side room. She couldn't let Rabastan, or anyone else for that matter, see her weakness.

"Mrs. Nott is inside. I thought having her wait in our office would be kinder than finding a room downstairs for her."

"You're not suggesting that she will be taken down to a room, are you? Because I will not do that to a practical child, Rabastan. She didn't ask to be married to that cretin."

Hermione was prepared to curse the wizard if he so much as hinted that he wanted to harm the poor girl. She might have been technically of age, but she couldn't be held responsible for what happened. There was no way that she was an accomplice to the Leaky Cauldron explosion. Before she could get going on an impressive rant, Rabastan placed both of his hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

"Of course we're not taking her downstairs. But, we would be foolish to not at least speak to her though." He pulled a small vial of a familiar clear liquid out of his pocket. "She might have heard something interesting on her honeymoon."

"I will be the one to speak to her. You're likely to just terrify her even further or make some inappropriate remark."

He grew very serious and his grin disappeared.

"She's practically the same age as my daughter, Hermione. I wouldn't be cruel. As far as I'm concerned, she's an innocent in all of this."

"Still, I will speak to her. Alone, at first. There might be some questions that she wouldn't wish to answer in front of a man."

He didn't argue, even though it was a known fact that a drinker of Veritaserum would be compelled to answer any question they were asked, regardless of whether or not they were shy around grown men. With a promise that she would use a Quick Quotes quill as they always did during interviews, Hermione pushed open the door.

Unfortunately, her reputation was well-known even to teenaged witches just out of Hogwarts. The moment the brand new Mrs. Nott saw who was walking into the room, she burst into tears. Based on her red eyes and the streaks down her cheeks, this wasn't the first round. Knowing that words had little effect on someone that distraught, Hermione busied her hands with brewing a pot of tea. She didn't say anything to the girl - Rosalind, she believed her name was. It was best to allow her to get all of her emotion out while she could.

When the soothing chamomile tea was ready, Hermione carried the small tea tray over to Rabastan's desk. She sat in his chair while Mrs. Nott stared at her with big, wide eyes from a chair on the other side. A smile from the notorious interrogator Madam Dolohov was hardly going to be much of a comfort to the terrified girl, so Hermione simply poured them each a cup of tea. She held the vial of Veritaserum up for her victim's inspection.

"Rosalind? Is that right?"

She nodded twice, afraid to open her mouth. Good thing that the potion she was about to consume would make it easier to speak. Hermione didn't relish doing this the old-fashioned way. Like she said earlier, it wasn't her fault she married Theodore Nott.

"Rosalind, I'm going to put a few drops of this in your tea. Do you recognize what it is?" She nodded. "Good. I know this all must be very scary for you, but none of us want to hurt you. I just want to ask you some questions and then later Mr. Lestrange is going to come in and ask some more. It's very important that you tell us the truth, so the Veritaserum is going to help you."

Few interviews were conducted with the truth-telling potion. Not only was the potion expensive and time-consuming to brew, it was less fun. If a person knew to expect a cup of tea with a potion in it, they would be less likely to be deterred from the very activities the regime was trying to prevent in the first place. Fear was a powerful motivator. Only in the cases, like poor Rosalind's, where the person was innocent did they even consider the more humane option.

Even though she might have wished to, Rosalind didn't hesitate to drink the offered cup of tea. Hermione was glad. It was so tiresome to have to stun a person and force the hot liquid down their throats. Any time they were able to remain civil was preferable. She waited until the teacup was empty and the girl's pretty green eyes took on the glassy appearance of one under the influence of the potion.

"What is your name?"

"Rosalind Mariah Plunkett Nott."

Hermione wasn't sure if Nott was an improvement over the unfortunate Plunkett, but didn't give it much more than a passing thought. She had a number of questions to ask before either one of them could hope to go home. It was entirely possible that she would need to drink more than a cup or two of tea laced with the potion.

"Who is your husband?"

"Theodore Nott Senior."

"When did you marry Mr. Nott?"

"June 16th."

Even under the potion's effects, Rosalind grimaced at the reminder of her wedding. What a horrible night that must have been. It had been miserable enough for Hermione and she didn't have to worry about facing the indignity of Nott's wrinkled, age-spot riddled hands on her bare flesh. Remembering the potion that Rabastan claimed to slip into Nott's wine during his wedding reception, she paused the spell activating the Quick Quotes quill recording their session to ask a couple of questions off the record. The answers would come in handy later when she was downstairs dealing with the poor girl's disgusting husband.

"Was your marriage consummated on your wedding night?"

"No. He tried, but he was unable. Said that it was because he drank too much wine."

"Was your marriage consummated on your honeymoon?"

"No. He wasn't able to then either. He got very angry about it too. Said that it was my fault. Maybe if I was prettier he wouldn't have any problems. He slapped me a few times when he got angry, but that's all he was able to do."

The desire to strangle the wretched man with her bare hands was strong. He was just nasty. There was no other word that would more accurately describe him. His young wife was certainly pretty enough, and given a few more years to fully come into her adulthood, she had the promise to be quite beautiful. He was a small man who thrived on belittling others. It was honestly no real shock to learn that Theo's mother killed herself after ten years of marriage. Hermione couldn't blame her if that was the life she had to look forward to.

"Rosalind, how would you like to become a very rich widow?"

A smile was her answer. Once she promised that she would do what she could to make sure she had her wish, Hermione reactivated the Quick Quotes quill and resumed the official interview.