July 8th

Hermione felt more like herself when she woke up on Sunday morning. The potions that she'd been taking at the request of her Healers and the demand of her husband were finished. She didn't have to take another one unless her head started to hurt her again. And if it started hurting, she had no intention of actually telling Antonin. While she appreciated him taking care of her while she was stuck in bed, he was getting on her nerves. There was such a thing as too much nurturing. If she had to endure him entering the room one more time to stand over her just staring, she was going to snap… again. They'd been having such a pleasant time together, for the most part, since she returned home. She would hate to have to stab him again.

Some of her fear from the day before also dissipated after her conversation with Antonin. He had his faults, but at least she knew that he would defend her with his life. She believed him when he said that she and Oliver were the two most important things in his life. Family was not a word Antonin used lightly. Possibly because his own had been such a disappointment when he was young, he was determined that they would be the happy, perfect little family from the first day they were married. It was worth delaying her own escape for a short time.

She wouldn't be able to run until she was positive that Aberforth was truly successful in his escape. Getting him out of the Ministry was only the first step. There had been no news of him since he stunned her disguised as Umbridge. Only one person could tell her what she needed to know without blowing her cover. She wasn't positive that he would be willing to help her, but he was her only hope. The worst he could do was tell her 'no'… or turn her over to the Resistance for punishment.

Following another delicious lunch prepared by her husband that he insisted she eat too much of, Hermione rose from the table and announced that she had to run some errands in Diagon Alley. Oliver was excited, begging her to take him with her. That is, until she told him that her destination was Twilfitt and Tatting's. His lips curled into a disgusted scowl so reminiscent of his father that she laughed. Robes shops were not nearly as fun to shop in as Quidditch Supply stores.

"Are you sure you're up to going into London by yourself?"

"I'm just fine, Antonin. Stop. I can handle a few hours away from home."

"But they still haven't found the witch that attacked you."

She knew that if she allowed him to continue, he would give her over a dozen different reasons why she shouldn't leave the house. If she was honest with herself, she knew that he was correct. It was dangerous to go out there, but she couldn't let a little bit of danger keep her from finding out if her mission was successful. Raising up on her tiptoes, she kissed Antonin, hoping that it would put him at ease.

"I will be perfectly safe in Diagon Alley in the middle of the afternoon."

"Ollie and I could come with you."

"You will both be bored to tears in seconds. No, stay here. I need new clothes. You keep insisting on fattening me up and nothing fits anymore."

Antonin playfully pinched her side where it was evident that she'd put on a little bit of weight since she returned to Hogsmeade. While she was nowhere near overweight and probably could stand to gain even more, there was more there than a few months earlier when she was practically starving. She swatted at his hand.

"See what I mean?"

"I like you this way. The only time you were more beautiful was when you were pregnant with Ollie."

"I was a disgusting whale."

"No, you weren't."

There was heat in his eyes at the memory of the months she was fat with his child growing inside her body. If he had his wish, she would've looked like that more often than not. Hermione pushed away the nagging reminders that she made it so that was a future that would never be possible. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer to kiss her with a little more feeling. She knew that if they were alone in that moment, he would be tempted to lay her on top of the table. And she would let him.

"Gross."

The sounds of their twelve year old son pretending to gag in the background ruined the mood. They broke apart, wide smiles on their faces. Antonin was close enough to reach over and ruffle his son's hair. It was a sweet moment, a moment that made the Dolohovs seem almost normal. Hermione pushed further thoughts away of how much she might have enjoyed a life in that home if it was always just like that.

She practically flew out the back door in her rush to get away from the emotions that threatened to overpower her. Potions made her too emotional, she'd decided. She wouldn't take any more no matter how much Antonin begged her or yelled. It was her own body, was it not? If another potion was offered, she just simply wouldn't take it. Either Antonin could respect her wishes or she would throw it in his face.

Part of her had hoped that she would never have to return to Number Twelve again. The decrepit house simply held too many memories. It was much easier to ignore the past when it was avoided, but she knew of no other way to safely get Draco's attention. Surveying the immediate area for signs she was being watched, Hermione waited a few minutes before she was confident there was no one around to see her enter. With no illegal potion brewing in the basement that she was in charge of, even if she was spotted, she wouldn't exactly be convicted of any crime no matter how suspicious it looked. She was clever enough that she could even come up with a plausible excuse for being there. Nostalgia or some such rubbish. Maybe just plain curiosity. Regardless, she was still glad to find no one watching.

She didn't know how long she would have to wait for Draco to show up. Or even if he would. Maybe now that Aberforth was free he had no more use for her. The Resistance would never trust her enough to ask her to be a spy again. Draco might not even need her anymore. As she sat down on the staircase staring at the dusty front door, she tried to ignore the realization that she would be hurt if that was truly the case.

What her feelings were for Draco was still a bit of a confusion for her already muddled brain to figure out. His return to her life happened so quickly at the beginning of the year. She never could quite figure out his whole reason for showing up when he did. What happened in his flat should've never happened. Between the alcohol and the sadness she felt on the twentieth anniversary of the day her world imploded, she wasn't thinking clearly. They should have never gone down that path. Especially considering the pesky fact that she didn't trust him at all.

Her wait didn't last long. Maybe only ten minutes passed before the front door opened to admit the owner. Draco's furrowed brow suggested he didn't expect to find her waiting for him on the stairs. It was possible that he didn't expect to ever see her inside that house again. Moments after entering he took a seat on the filthy staircase next to his guest.

"Did Aberforth make it back to the Resistance?"

"Is that why you're here?"

"Tell me, Draco. I haven't heard anything."

He seemed almost disappointed that she was asking about the man he supposedly respected and owed his life to. Though she didn't know any of the details of that incident, she knew Draco had an immense amount of admiration for Dumbledore. It was evident every time he mentioned his name. Why would he be upset that she wanted to know if the man was all right?

"Yes, he made it back to Devon. Apparently he gave the village quite the shock when he arrived looking like Dolores Umbridge of all people."

His chuckle and the glint in his grey eyes suggested he was impressed by her actions. Out of fear that she couldn't really trust him and concern that he would talk her out of such a ridiculous and reckless plan, she hadn't given him any details.

"Quite ingenious getting Umbridge mixed up in all of this. How did you get her to agree to help?"

"Combination of Imperius Curse and love potions. All of the responsibility should've fallen to her. I'm still not even allowed to access Level Eleven on my own and I was supposed to have an alibi."

It felt good to be able to open up about what had been bothering her for days. He might turn around to use the information against her later, but in that moment she felt calmer, like the world wasn't about to end.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"I made a mistake. Rabastan already suspects I'm up to something. It won't take long before all of the pieces are put together and I'm caught."

He placed his arm around her shoulder offering what comfort he could. She appreciated that he didn't spout any trite words of encouragement that she didn't want to hear. She knew her situation was practically hopeless. All that was left for her to do was run.

"Am I off the Resistance's Hitlist now? I'd really appreciate not having to worry about them hunting me again when I leave."

"Are you sure it's necessary to run again?"

"What other options do I have, Draco? If I stay, Rabastan will pin Aberforth's escape on me. As much as I wish he was, he's not dumb. And he's always been looking for a way to get rid of me. Here's his chance."

Draco placed two fingers under her chin to force her to look in his eyes. Concerned that he would see how afraid she was, Hermione resisted at first. He wouldn't be deterred. When she stared into his grey eyes, all she could see looking back at her was concern and possibly fear. Was he really afraid that something might happen to her? Or was this only a manipulation? Did he have something else he needed from her?

The gentle press of his lips against hers quieted her anxieties for the moment. She could revisit them later. His kiss was slower, much more tender than the others they'd shared in that house. He behaved as if they had all of the time in the world and there was no rush.

"Come with me to my flat."

"No, Draco, I can't stay away long."

"Please. Just two hours."

She found his simple argument to be very persuasive. Shortly after he helped her to her feet, Draco led her outside to Apparate them both back to the privacy of his flat.