August 10th

Hermione thought of little else but her impromptu meeting in the grove of trees for the rest of the night. Draco didn't even try to deny the fact that he was the one who told Rodolphus that she was looking for him. At least she could take the tiniest bit of solace in the reminder that at least he didn't lie to her. There would've been no reason to and he knew it. Maybe his honesty counted for something. She wasn't sure. All she knew was she meant it when she warned him about coming near her family again.

If she felt threatened again or she was concerned Oliver would be put in danger, she would tell Antonin everything. He might hate her again, but at least he would understand the severity of the threat. Draco was unreliable. She didn't know his true feelings or his true alliances. It was very likely that he'd been manipulating her from the start. Certainly she used to feel fuzzy-headed around him, like she wasn't even in complete charge of her own actions. Perhaps more about her changed with the removal of all of the memory charms than she thought.

Trying to keep a brave face on for the others living in Augustus' home with her was becoming more and more difficult. After a breakfast shared amongst the four of them in the kitchen, Hermione made her excuses to return to her bedroom. She needed a few minutes, at least, to herself to continue to process the events from the night before. It seemed unsafe to have Draco know her whereabouts, but considering the valuable tracking skills he possessed, she knew he would be able to find her no matter where she went. She wished she understood how he was able to track so thoroughly. Maybe then she could figure out how to reverse it, block its effectiveness. It bothered her that he would always be able to find her.

She stood in front of the window hoping that staring out into the ocean would give her the answers she needed. A change was going to need to be made soon. The remainder of her life couldn't be spent hiding inside a house waiting for another ambush. Even if she couldn't ignore that nagging voice in the back of her mind that she didn't have much longer left to suffer in her mortal life, she wanted more than to just sit around and wait for death.

The door to the bedroom opening behind her stalled her fatalistic thoughts. She wasn't surprised to see Antonin over her shoulder. Her husband always kept a close eye on her whenever she was in the same room. He would've noticed a change in her mood even if no one else did. Wishing he would go back to where he'd just come from and leave her alone, she turned back to stare at the vastness of the ocean.

It didn't take a genius to figure out she would rather be left alone and Antonin was one of the most intelligent people Hermione had ever known. Still, he was undeterred. He crossed the room to stand next to her at the window. Both of them stared at the idyllic landscape beyond, unspeaking for several minutes. She wished he would go away, but he was in no hurry to do so.

"You've been acting strangely since you came back from your walk last night. Is everything all right?"

She didn't even try to hide her petulant sigh or the dramatic roll of her eyes. Acting more like a sullen teenager than a woman nearing forty, she didn't care if she upset her husband. They'd lived together for twenty years, married for thirteen of those years. He knew better than to badger her when she wanted to be alone. Not that he usually respected her wishes on that account.

"Oh, everything is just perfect, Antonin. Never better."

"There's no reason to be snarky. I'm simply concerned for you."

When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off. Even when he didn't mean to be, he could be annoyingly patronizing. She assumed it had to do with the large age gap between them. He was twenty-three years older. Though that was hardly anything thanks to wizarding genes allowing them to live close to two hundred if they took care of themselves and stayed out of violent wars, it was enough sometimes to be frustrating.

The air in the bedroom grew thick with sudden tension. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her husband clench his jaw, no doubt to keep from blurting something rude out that would start another fight. They'd had a good, peaceful run between arguments. How many days had they gone? Five days? Six? It was almost a record. Naturally, at some point they were going to blow up at each other again.

"Where did you go last night?"

"For a walk. Just like I told you."

"Did you meet someone out there? You were gone awhile and when you came in you were upset."

She felt her entire body stiffen at his question. How could she answer it? If she told him 'no', he might be able to tell if she was lying. Since returning to his life, he always seemed to know. But, if she told him the truth about Draco, he not only would be furious, he wouldn't stop until he knew everything. She didn't want him to know about Draco. As foolish as it might be to protect the wizard from her husband after he betrayed her to his uncle, she just didn't have it in her to be so cruel. Not to him. She decided to try to deflect the question instead.

"Who would I possibly have been meeting out there, Antonin? I don't even know who I can trust anymore and you already warned me that if I did anything to put Ollie in danger, you would throw me out."

Many moments in their shared past gave Hermione the confidence to know how to emotionally manipulate her husband when the need arose. Certainly not the healthiest of tactics to employ against the man that loved her, at least she knew that it generally worked in her favor. Looking up into her taller husband's eyes, she tried to make herself seem as vulnerable as possible.

"I don't have anywhere else to go, Antonin."

For the briefest of moments, she was certain she'd clenched the victory. Antonin opened his mouth and immediately shut it again. There was the slightest softening of the anger in his eyes. Almost as soon as it appeared, he became serious and harsh again.

"Are you planning on running away again?"

She didn't understand where his sudden paranoid was coming from. It wasn't as if the previous night was the only walk she'd ever gone on since moving in Augustus' house. She wasn't pushing him away. In fact, she could vividly recall a pleasant and passionate tumble in the bed only steps away before they fell asleep the night before. There wasn't a lot to do in the endless waiting for something to happen. They'd been able to pass the time in pleasurable ways many times since arriving. Why was he so convinced she already had one foot out the door?

"Why are you asking me this, Antonin?"

"Interesting how you didn't deny it."

He pushed a rolled up piece of parchment into her hands. Confused, she opened it to discover that she was holding the very list she was making on the day the Dark Lord died before Rabastan came into the Ministry. The beginnings of her next steps were scribbled out in her clear, precise handwriting. When she wrote it out, she was afraid that she was in serious trouble from whatever mysterious benefactor covered up her crime of helping Aberforth Dumbledore escape. Now that she knew she had Augustus to thank for that stroke of genius, she no longer lived in fear. Still, she was curious why Antonin just happened to have the list in his possession.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found it in your Ministry robes the day we were packing our bags."

She remembered. He was teasing her about packing her Ministry robes just in case she needed them again. After she threw them at his head, he must've discovered the parchment inside the pocket. In all of the excitement of the Dark Lord's murder and then her episode at his funeral that ensured she would never be safe to go back to the Ministry, she'd forgotten about her list tucked away in the pocket. Antonin, however, wasn't likely to forget it for as long as they both lived.

"So you're not going to deny that you were making plans to run away again?"

There was the tiniest crack in his resolve. His voice wasn't its usual confident timbre. Instead, she could hear the vulnerability that he always worked so hard to keep hidden. Knowing that she'd managed to, yet again, hurt him made her feel guilty. Perhaps that would always be a recurring theme in their marriage. She didn't appear to know how to make him happy. The absolute least she could do was be honest with him. Even if it hurt him more.

"Yes, Antonin. That was always the plan. Since I returned on Ollie's birthday, I've been planning on running again."

Hurling an Avada at his chest would've been kinder. His shoulders sagged as he heard the words he'd been fearing for months. No longer able to look his wife in the eye, Antonin stared back out the window again. When he felt confident enough to trust his voice again, he spoke.

"Why did you tell me that?"

"Because I'm tired of lying."

Without saying another word, Antonin spun on his heel and headed for the door. She knew better than to rush after him or beg him to stay. Honesty wasn't always easy, to speak it or to hear it. He'd left the door to their bedroom partially open. Through the crack, she was able to hear the obnoxious squeal of the front door that Augustus still hadn't fixed. She knew he would come back home whenever he was calmer.