July 30th

There was a change in the air. Even Hermione could sense it from inside the safety of the wards placed around her home. Something was finally happening. She hoped that the uneasiness she felt swirling in her gut meant they were finally on the verge of the fight that was sure to come. Perhaps it was wrong to wish for chaos, but she was growing weary of the stagnation and uncertainty.

Antonin bared all of his secrets to her once she begged him. Appealing to her heightened risk of insanity might have been the encouragement he needed. Or maybe it was because she was finally honest with him about everything she knew about Rodolphus. Admitting that she'd seen him multiple times while she was on the run was difficult, especially considering she had to keep her involvement with the Resistance under wraps. She wasn't sure how he would feel about her activities. That had been an enemy they both fought against for twenty years. Both of the Dolohovs almost lost their very lives to them at least once. But, what she was able to tell him proved that she was trying to be honest, trying to move past what had been done to her.

Unfortunately for her frazzled nerves, there really wasn't that much to tell. Antonin insisted that everyone was seemingly waiting around for someone else to make the first move for power. The splinters of the Inner Circle were able to come together long enough to agree on some very important issues before they descended into the inevitable maelstrom of violence that was on its way. While it remained to be seen if all agreements would be honored when the curses really started to fly, the concessions were encouraging. Hermione only hoped they meant them.

First and foremost, Hogwarts would be a neutral site. All evidence of the Dark Lord's presence in the castle beyond his ghastly mausoleum on the grounds was to be removed. Headmaster Temeritus Mulciber had been insistent on the fact that violence had no place in their beloved school, especially not when children were present. Not for the first time over the years since the grizzled Death Eater was named Headmaster, Hermione was thankful for his appointment. He had his rough edges, his past, just like all of them, but he was a fine Headmaster and professor. His priority had always been to the students he was in charge of before anyone else, even the Dark Lord at times to his detriment.

As children had no business being caught up in a violent war, their school should never again become a battleground. Students should be able to continue their education without fear, regardless of the activities of their parents were up to. No one wanted to see Hogwarts in ruins again. Not after the last war. Thanks to the Dark Lord's insistence that his loyal followers breed new soldiers for his regime, almost every Death Eater was a parent. And if they weren't, they could understand the value of leaving the castle alone. Hermione had her reservations about sending Oliver back to school in September, but that was a problem they could tackle later. For all she knew, they'd all be dead before the end of the summer holidays.

The Ministry of Magic was in a state of confusion. Though they still technically had a Minister in Pius Thicknesse, he was never much of a leader. His talents lay in being nothing more than a useful puppet. Critical thinking and decision-making on his own were a virtual impossibility. He was expected to be ousted from office sooner rather than later. If he was smart, he would run before the fighting began. Hermione didn't care what happened to anyone in the Ministry. Except maybe for Angelina Johnson. They'd never been enemies and she truly was a kind woman, even if Hermione saw that attribute as being something of a weakness in their current world. The whole building could burn to the ground for all Hermione gave a damn. She would never be returning.

Antonin believed that his enemies assumed he would make the first move to grab power. As the most logical successor to their master, it made the most sense that he would want to solidify his position as soon as possible. His reluctance to become the next Dark Lord was the reason why he hadn't yet tried. He might have claimed that he was waiting to throw the enemies off and force them out into the open, but she knew better. If there was any way he could make it through what was coming without being pressed into the service as the new head of the regime, he would be open to it. But so far, there were no options that either one of them could see making themselves available. He would become the Dark Lord or die in the attempt.

Following his reckless desire for revenge, he'd made quite the spectacle of himself. No doubt Rodolphus was made aware that Antonin was searching for him, demanding satisfaction. The elder Lestrange was intelligent enough to put the pieces together. Even if he didn't think it was possible that Antonin could've uncovered the full scope of his treachery, it was enough. He would be causing waves soon. Now that the Dark Lord was dead, he could even come out of hiding. Maybe that was why Hermione felt so unsettled. She felt nervous that she would be used again to fulfill the wizard's nefarious plans. Mr. Akingbade might have assured her that he removed all of the memory charms, but even an expert made mistakes.

She pushed aside the fears she was dwelling on when Antonin rolled over in bed to kiss her good morning. Their marriage was different in so many ways since she returned. How much of it was because she no longer drank the illegal potions that consumed her existence for so long? It was possible they would never know. When he showed he wasn't in the mood to escalate his advances, she settled down in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, simply enjoyed being in the moment. Hermione couldn't imagine them doing something so simple and normal in the previous life they shared.

"I think we need to prepare ourselves for the very real possibility that we might be forced from our home."

Hermione could've cursed her husband for ruining the pleasant mood. Even if she knew he was right. The fact that they'd been able to remain safely in their own home was a bit of a miracle. Especially considering they were right in the middle of the village. Unless he took power immediately, they were a vulnerable target.

"Your beaded bag has always impressed me."

It was the truth. The bag was how he could gauge whether or not his wife was planning on running. Before she ran, he used to check it to satisfy his own curiosity. When she returned, she kept it empty to calm his fears that she wouldn't be remaining long.

"Would you make me one? And Ollie too?"

There was no reason to deny the request. It made sense. If they were forced from their home, they would be foolish to be unprepared. She sat up in bed to begin working on his request. For days and weeks she'd felt useless. Having a purpose again was energizing.

Twenty additional years of experience wielding magic helped Hermione create two more simple, small leather bags quickly and efficiently. By mid-afternoon, the three bags were all enchanted and ready to be filled. Starting first with healing potions and the damned potions that Antonin insisted she take, she began to fill all three bags with the necessities. Dividing the potions, as well as a store of food and both wizarding and Muggle currency, amongst all three bags made the most sense. If they were separated or one of the bags was stolen, they would still have much of what they needed to survive.

She tried to make the filling of Oliver's bag as non-traumatic an experience as she could. When she explained the purpose of the small bag, his brown eyes widened in fear. What he must have been expecting to happen was anyone's guess because he wasn't talking. Attempting to remain as upbeat as possible, she left him alone with the task of packing whatever clothes and books he thought he might need if they were to go on holiday. The boy was far from stupid. He understood without her saying so explicitly that they had to be ready in case they had to run.

"Well, I think I've sufficiently managed to terrify our child."

Antonin looked up from the robes he was folding to smile when she entered the room and closed the door behind her. The door to their large shared cupboard was open, clothing separated in piles on the floor. Ordinarily he was a fastidious enough man that he wouldn't allow the clutter, but this was special. When she realized the discarded clothing consisted almost entirely of the dark, heavy robes they wore as Death Eaters, she almost laughed. Maybe they could make a large bonfire with the rubbish when they were done.

"Ollie'll be all right. Mostly I think he's worried about you."

His statement startled his wife.

"Me? Why?"

"Because he's got his father's brains…"

"His mother's."

It was an old argument they liked to have that usually ended in them laughing and declaring with excellent genes like his, Oliver would do well in life. Maybe they couldn't offer him much of any value, but they could at least pass on their intelligence. Antonin smiled before continuing.

"… he's very smart. He knows we could be in danger."

Leaning against the doorframe of the cupboard, she sighed. Wasn't it a parent's job to protect their child from the dangerous world? She wasn't a very good mum, but even she knew that much. If her own parents knew half of what she was forced to encounter as a child of Oliver's age, she had no doubt that they would've snapped her wand in half and refused to let her return to Hogwarts. That was why she didn't tell them much of anything. Even as an adult and the memories of her interactions with them since returning to the country trickled through the holes left by the charms in her head, she knew that she shielded them from every horrible fact she could.

"I think he's worried that you'll…"

"Run away again?"

Antonin dropped the clothing he was holding to the carpet. Two steps in her direction and he was able to place his hands on the outside of her upper arms and kiss her. Nothing else needed to be said about the subject. He was confirming that she was right even without admitting it aloud. In order to lighten the mood, he pulled her nicest set of Ministry robes down and pushed them into her arms.

"You might want to pack those. Never know when you'll need them next."

His cheeky wink made her laugh. The tension was broken. There had always been a great deal of laughter in their home. They were happy sometimes. She wadded the hateful garment into a ball and threw it back at her chuckling husband.

"Let's burn them with our Death Eater robes."

He smiled, but the moment turned serious. Maybe he was thinking along the same lines she was. They could conceivably be standing in their home for one of the last times. If the power struggle went south, they could be dead or forced into exile.

"I would miss our home very much."

She didn't need to say anything in response. Only closed the small distance between them to kiss her husband again. It was, after all, just a place. Their future wasn't confined by four walls and a roof. Dropping the hated robes to mingle with the others, they put all of their bittersweet emotions into the moment. If they were going to have to leave, at least they would have warm memories to carry with them.