August 12th

Two entire days passed with no word from Antonin. His wife was worried, terrified that he'd run off to do something stupid that he wouldn't be able to fix. She hoped that he wasn't off attempting to confront Rodolphus again. While she had complete faith in his ability to best Lestrange operating under a fair fight, Hermione feared that Rodolphus had more support than her husband. If there was an entire faction of former Death Eaters who wanted nothing more than to keep Antonin from succeeding in his supposed quest to become the new Dark Lord, he would be outnumbered. The Lestranges already proved that they didn't fight fair.

It was important that the remaining adults in the safe house keep as calm as possible for Oliver's sake. Though it wasn't the first time that his father had disappeared for days at a time in his young life, it wasn't hard for the young wizard to notice the difference in Augustus and Hermione. They didn't mean to, but they were behaving strangely. Any time he would ask a question about Antonin, they would get uncomfortable and struggle to find the right words to say. Hermione knew that her son was too smart to fall for their repeated assurances that there was nothing to worry about.

She hated that she was the cause of her husband's anger. It was too late to take back what she told him. Besides, it had been the truth. She was planning to run when given the opportunity again. Surely he was aware of that before he even discovered the list in her pocket. Almost from the very moment she returned to Hogsmeade he'd been suspicious, afraid that she would run again. Even without coming right out and saying so, she knew.

Augustus was kind enough to leave the safe house mid-afternoon to make discreet inquiries into where he might have gone. While she appreciated his assistance, Hermione was feeling anxious, stir-crazy. She wanted to leave the safety of the house to search for him herself. Even putting herself in danger felt like a better plan than just sitting around endlessly waiting.

"Do you know when Papa is coming home?"

Lying to her son used to be easier. And more believable. As soon as she tried to assure Oliver that his father was all right and she wasn't worried, he saw right through her. Knowing that he was worried made it all worse. She'd never been very good at sitting home and waiting. For years she had always been out there in the midst of it all, never left out. She had her own contacts, her own friends in the world. Perhaps they would be able to offer her help. It was better than just waiting and waiting, endlessly waiting. When the sun started to set and neither Augustus nor Antonin were back, she was at her wit's end. She had to do something.

"Ollie, I want you to go upstairs to your room. Lock the door and don't open it for anyone but one of the three of us."

"No."

Oliver might have been just as stubborn as each of his parents, but he was never defiant. Especially not openly. Her son stood in the middle of the lounge with his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to budge an inch towards the hidden staircase up to his room. Hermione would have almost admired him if she wasn't already so frustrated and feeling helpless. She didn't have time to deal with a petulant child. Not when their futures were at stake.

"I didn't ask you, Oliver. I told you to go upstairs."

"I'm worried about Papa too. I don't want to sit upstairs in my room."

The temptation to place her only child in a full-body bind was strong, but Hermione resisted the urge. Somehow she didn't think either Oliver or Antonin would forgive her if she resorted to such drastic measures to get him to do what she wanted. Parenting was hard. Especially when her son was refusing to back down. She knew this wasn't going to be a fight easily won by either side.

"It's not safe for you to help. You're just a child, Ollie."

"I'm the same age you were when you helped Harry Potter protect the Philosopher's Stone."

Despite the fact that she'd had the exact same thought multiple times since returning, she was flabbergasted that the words came out of her son's mouth. She didn't even know where he learned the story. It certainly wasn't one that was spoken of in public and she hadn't told him. Antonin knew the stories of her adventures at Hogwarts, but they both made the decision that Oliver didn't need to know them. Not until he was much, much older. Neither one of them wanted to give him any ideas while he was still studying at Hogwarts himself. He was already enough like his mother that they didn't need to help him figure out ways to get into trouble.

Besides, Harry Potter was not a name that was spoken out loud either. Almost as taboo to speak as Lord Voldemort's, it was a name that most were afraid to utter. Nothing but pain and suffering came from it. She never mentioned her dead best friend in front of her son. Fear that he would start to ask questions she wasn't prepared to answer kept her mouth shut on that account. It was too hard to speak about Harry and she never wanted to put her son in danger. Too much knowledge about him might've made him appear to be against the regime.

"How do you know about that?"

Realizing that he'd said too much, Oliver's cheeks flushed red. He would need to learn how to control his temper when he was upset. It was a lesson that both of his parents still could stand to learn more about. When he didn't immediately answer, she repeated her question.

"Hugo told me."

Spoken very softly and with his eyes focused on the carpet at his feet, she could tell that her son felt guilty about revealing the source of his knowledge. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he learned about her past from Ron's son, but it was. She would've assumed that Ron was as careful about keeping those incidents quiet as she. Too much reminiscing about the world before the Dark Lord came to power was considered disloyal. Once he revealed where he learned about the Philosopher's Stone, he kept going.

"Hugo's dad told him. He said that he talks a lot about when he was in school with you and Harry Potter when he's been drinking. Hugo says that his dad drinks a lot. Cries sometimes too. He wishes that everything was different."

Hermione's heart clenched at the mental image of Ron crying about the past. She'd been there too. More times than she really wanted to consider. It took her years to move past those thoughts, but she was glad she was able to push all memories and recollections of her Hogwarts years to the very back of her mind. All those memories did was make her sad. She couldn't afford to wallow in the past. Not when her life was at stake. As a Death Eater, it was always at stake. One whiff of potential disloyalty and she could've been tortured or murdered. Not even the Dark Lord's prized pets were immune.

"Hugo and I don't want to be like our parents. We want to help people, not hurt them."

There might have been a time when she would've been insulted by her son's desires to not be like her. Even just mentioning that he knew his parents weren't good people would've been enough to hurt her feelings, but in that moment, she couldn't blame him. Everything he said in his own innocent way was completely the truth. She hoped that he wouldn't follow in the footsteps of his parents either. He deserved a brighter future than that.

"I also know that you and Mr. Weasley used to fight for the good side, the side that didn't kill people who disagreed with them."

"Did Ron tell Hugo that too?"

"No, it was the Gryffindor ghost."

Oliver had already mentioned once before about the Gryffindor ghost who liked to prank Professor McGonagall with Peeves the Poltergeist. Though she didn't want to even think about the possibilities, she knew who he was talking about. She felt her eyes burn with tears she didn't want to shed in front of her son. It was too hard to think about Fred Weasley being dead. Even after twenty years she found it easier to just not think about him at all than to imagine him as one of the spirits haunting Hogwarts. When she allowed herself to remember that it was Augustus who was the one who cast the spell that ended his life… it was best that she try to forget him entirely.

"Do you know the ghost's real name?"

"Fred or Gred. He says both."

"He's Fred Weasley, Hugo's uncle."

His eyes widened. She had forgotten how innocent he was. Twelve years old and ready to take on the world he knew nothing about. How many years ago had she been the exact same way? The corners of her lips threatened to curl up into a smile. Hardly the time or the discussion for levity, she took control of her facial expressions. She made her face as stern and serious as possible.

"When you get back to the castle, talk to Fred. Ask him questions. He'll probably tell you two everything you want to know about your mum and Hugo's dad."

Much of the urgency she felt earlier to rush out of the safe house into the unknown to do something was gone. Perhaps she needed to have that conversation with Oliver. Hermione sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her to encourage him to take a seat. When they were both settled in, she gently brushed some of his wavy hair behind his ear.

"Your papa and I want nothing more than to keep you safe, Ollie. It's dangerous out there right now."

"Has something happened?"

"No, not yet. That's why it's so dangerous. We don't know when it will. At any moment the war could start again. If we were out there, we could get caught up in it. The last thing either one of us wants for you is to see you harmed. Maybe we seem too strict, but we're just trying to keep you safe."

The front door squeaked loudly open, effectively ending the rest of their conversation. Both Hermione and Oliver jumped up to their feet when they saw Antonin enter the lounge with Augustus. Though he was evidently exhausted, he was in one piece and all right. Oliver rushed to hug his father in greeting. His parents' eyes met over his head, but neither one of them said anything. There would be time to talk later when they were alone.