August 9th

A sort of routine began to take root inside the safe house. Whether or not it was pleasant or sustainable was still very much up for debate between the inhabitants. At the very least, it was encouraging that the four residents were able to put aside their differences and the initial awkwardness of their presence in Augustus' house together to form some sort of livable existence. Every single day, at least half a dozen times, Hermione asked Antonin alone when they were going to be able to leave her ex-lover's house. His usual answer was just to beg her to be patient.

Waiting around was frustrating, but she learned years earlier when she was on the blasted horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron that war was almost entirely made up of long stretches of waiting for something to happen and short bursts of violent activity thrown in. And that was in a normal war. All of the signs seemed to point to the fact that the war hadn't even really started yet. Antonin confided to her in the privacy of their borrowed bedroom that there had been little to no action so far. No one had claimed the leadership of the regime. Their home being attacked was the only bit of open violence in the month since the Dark Lord died. But they all knew that when it finally happened, when someone finally decided to declare themselves the new Dark Lord, all Hell would break loose.

Hermione tried to keep their minds off of what wasn't happening by cooking a nice dinner for them. Antonin's and Augustus' mysterious missions allowed them the freedom to spend an evening inside the safe house instead of out there in the scariness of the unpredictable world. Though neither wizard was terribly encouraged by the thought of Hermione actually making them a meal, they, along with Oliver, put on a brave face and consumed what she placed in front of them. To everyone's surprise, no more so than the cook's, it was edible and even delicious. Apparently being stuck inside the protective wards in their Hogsmeade home and then in the safe house with nothing to do allowed her enough practice to improve her cooking skills.

"I'm very impressed, Hermione. This was… not what I expected."

She rolled her eyes at the pathetic excuse for a compliment from her husband. The other two wizards were wise enough to keep their opinions to themselves, but she didn't miss the grin Oliver shared with Augustus and his father. Once upon a time it might have embarrassed her to know that she was incapable of mastering the art of cooking. No longer. She silently decided that she'd married well, at least on that account. As long as he was home to do so, she would turn the cooking duties over to Antonin.

"Don't expect perfection every night. Especially not since I can never tell when either one of you will be home to eat."

Picking up a stack of dirty dishes from the table, she carried them over to the sink. She was glad to have something tangible that she could do, something that she could put her hands on. Feeling helpless was infuriating. When she crossed in front of the window, she almost gasped out loud. Standing away from the house, but still close enough that she could make out his familiar pale blond hair, Draco appeared to be staring straight at her. She knew that because there was a Fidelius Charm on the house that he couldn't actually see her through the window. Even knowing that didn't make her feel less discomfited.

What could possibly bring Draco to Cornwall? None of the possibilities were good. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave either. If he wasn't careful, someone else would see him. How would she explain the wizard tracking her to the safe house? Someone would get hurt. Being careful not to draw any unnecessary attention from the wizards still seated at the kitchen table, she scanned the property for anyone else. She didn't think Draco would lead an ambush, but it wasn't as if she really knew the man. Maybe she thought she did at one point in the previous seven months.

Hermione had to get him to leave before he was spotted. When she was confident in the fact that there was no one else waiting out in the shadows with him, she dried her wet hands on a towel. She turned around to announce that she was going to take advantage of the clear skies and take a walk before bed. Oliver's offer to join her was immediately quashed by his father's insistence that it was too late for him to be outside. Bedtime was fast approaching.

"Would you like some company?"

"No, thank you, Antonin. I won't be gone long. This house is stifling. Must've stood over the cooker too long."

"All right, but promise you'll send up sparks if you need me?"

She assured her husband with a swift kiss to his lips that she would. It was a beautiful night. Even if she didn't have a reason to step outside for a walk, she would want to. Knowing that Antonin would likely finish the washing up with her out of the house, she waited until she was just outside of the protective wards of the house where Draco couldn't miss seeing her before turning towards the grove of trees she hid in when she first arrived back in April. The trees were close enough that Antonin wouldn't worry about her and secluded enough that she knew he wouldn't be able to see them.

It wasn't long until she could feel someone following her. Only steps away from the house, she knew that Draco understood what her plan was. Nothing felt malicious about his intentions. Her instincts weren't screaming at her that she was in danger, but she wasn't foolish enough to trust them completely. This could be just another trap set by his uncle to lure her out into the open. She had to be prepared for any eventuality. With her hand in her pocket, she held tightly to her wand, refusing to let it go. Inside the cover of the trees, Hermione spun around to wait for the wizard. It didn't take him long to arrive.

"Are you alone?"

"Of course I am."

"You didn't bring your uncle with you?"

He had enough sense to look ashamed at the question. At least she wouldn't have to explain Rodolphus' treachery again to get him to believe his uncle was a menace. She had a dozen different questions that she wanted answers for. Draco shook his head.

"Who are you working for? Is it the Resistance? Is it Rodolphus?"

"It's… it's complicated, Hermione."

She knew evasive answers when she heard them. Over a decade of conducting in-depth interrogations of known and suspected criminals gave her an edge when it came to detecting lies and other devious tactics. Of course, it wasn't as if he was trying to hide that he wasn't willing to tell her the truth. She didn't understand how his answer could be complicated. Either he was working against her family or he wasn't.

"Are you going to tell Rodolphus where I'm at?"

"I've known you were here all along. Even if Rook's house is Secret-Kept. The spell kept bringing me to this area, but I kept bumping into resistance. Didn't take much to figure out it was the Fidelius Charm. Since you've been here before to hide, I just assumed you were again."

"My son is in that house, Draco."

The first crack in his stoic mask appeared when she mentioned Oliver. Clearly her son's presence was a new fact for him. Perhaps he just assumed she was hiding there alone with Augustus. She hoped that he didn't continue to put the pieces together that Antonin was staying there too. He might be willing to keep her safe and even her son if she asked, but not betraying the known location of the wizard hated most by his uncle's faction might've been an unforgivable offense. To save his own family, and even himself, it was possible that he would have to reveal where the Dolohovs were hiding. She started to make mental plans for running again… with her family this time.

"I promise I won't tell anyone. You're in just as much danger as your husband, maybe more. And I don't want your son to get hurt. He's just an innocent child."

She pushed away his remark about her being in more danger than Antonin. It wasn't a possibility she wanted to consider. If Rodolphus truly had a nefarious plan for how he was going to manipulate her mind to his specifications, she didn't want to know. Just the fears were bad enough.

Draco seemed sincere in his promise that he wouldn't betray her location. She hoped that she could trust him. Revealing to Antonin or even to Augustus that he knew she was there was dangerous. They would definitely see him as a threat that needed to be eradicated. She couldn't tell them why she didn't believe he would hurt her. His statement that he believed he was falling in love with her was difficult to swallow, but she did trust that there was some sort of connection between them. At least enough that neither wished harm on the other. It would have to be enough.

"Why did you come here, Draco? It's not safe."

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

The feel of his fingertips against the flushed skin of her cheeks was perilous, dangerous. Goosebumps pricked up wherever he touched. She wanted to give in, to throw all caution to the winds and let him do just as he pleased with her right there in the grove of trees. Their location was private. She didn't expect her husband to come walking up on them. He'd been so tired and spoke of wishing to crawl into bed early that night. It would be so easy to allow Draco to do with her what he wished, what they both wished.

But, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was his uncle standing in her back garden. Menacing and so unlike the gentle Rodolphus she remembered from her altered memories, she felt afraid. For one of the first times since the night Draco found her in the Muggle's house on New Year's, she was thinking clearly around him. She wouldn't let him convince her to let down her guard. That had already happened and she didn't like the consequences. Whatever thrall he was able to capture her in yet again, she brushed it off. She pushed his hand away from her face and met his cool grey eyes with hers.

"Tell me the truth, Draco. Were you the one who told Rodolphus I was looking for him?"

She knew the answer without him even saying it. There was only one person it could've possibly been, but she wanted to make certain that he wasn't lying to her. He didn't deny it. Didn't even try. Just put his rejected hand into the pocket of his robes and stared at the witch. A dozen more questions popped into her mind. Why was he helping his uncle? What was his uncle up to? Was anything he ever said to her the truth? Or had he just been manipulating her from the very beginning for his own ends?

It was time to go back to the safe house. Hermione didn't care for how exposed and vulnerable she felt alone with the wizard again. He'd taken the words that she spoke to him when she was in his flat and turned them over to the wizard he knew was messing with her mind. There could be no excuse for that sort of betrayal.

"Leave me alone. Don't follow me again. If I find out that you've come close to me or to any member of my family, I'll not be merciful."

With one last promise that she would confess everything to her husband if she felt the least bit threatened by him ever again, she rushed back to the safety of the house. To his credit, he didn't take a single step forward in pursuit.