August 21st

The sun wasn't even out of the sky yet when the front door to the safe house opened to admit a smiling Antonin. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, surprised that her husband was actually going to be home at a decent hour. Most nights he stumbled in just as his family was getting ready for bed or already snuggled into their beds asleep. His associates, the ones that he hoped would be convinced to fight in the upcoming war on his side, preferred to meet under the cover of darkness. There was too much at stake in their lives to be seen with a notorious figure like Antonin Dolohov alone. Suspicion, evidently, was choking the remnants of the regime.

"This is a surprise. It's not even dark out yet."

Antonin's response to his wife's remark was to simply kiss her firmly on the mouth. Without care that they had an audience of their disgusted son and their uncomfortable host, he put all of his emotion into the kiss. Hermione was caught off-guard, but didn't have anything to complain about. Only the tactful clearing of Augustus' throat encouraged them to break it off. How the man managed to stay so composed when he was daily faced with watching the woman he believed himself to be in love with with her husband was a mystery. Antonin argued in the privacy of their bedroom that it was proof that his feelings for Hermione weren't as strong as they used to be. As much as she hoped he was right, she wasn't prepared to believe his theory quite yet.

"What has you in such a good mood?"

"Can a man not just be excited to come home and see his family?"

She tried her hardest to imitate the same facial expression that he passed down to their son, but was unable to raise only a single eyebrow. Both of them inevitably moved at the same time when she tried. Regardless of her failure, he was able to understand her silent refusal to believe his answer. Laughing, he pecked her lips once more, breaking it off before there was another admonition from their host, of course.

"I just came from Corban and Mafalda's house."

"I really wish you wouldn't get so close to our old house, Antonin. Not when we know it's being watched."

"There's no need to worry about me, darling. As you can see, I'm perfectly all right."

It was an argument they could have later when they were alone. Her curiosity over what would have him in such a good mood kept her from continuing down that line of thinking. Hadn't Antonin proven over the decades of his life that he was perfectly capable of protecting himself? Though she knew that one day he wouldn't be able to escape his fate, this wasn't the time to nag him about taking more precautions with his safety.

"Corban told me something in confidence that hasn't yet made the newspapers."

Hermione glanced quickly in Augustus' direction at the mention of the horrible newspaper that had continued its almost daily aspersions on her character and sanity. He hadn't been as careful with the daily editions as he promised Antonin he would be following the morning he accidentally let her steal his first paper. There was an unspoken agreement between them. When he was finished with the day's newspaper that he now chose to read only inside of his bedroom, he would add it to the stack of old papers in the cupboard in the kitchen. It was a small rebellion against the wishes of her husband. She didn't care. If she was to be stuck in the safe house, she needed to know at least some of what was happening outside.

"The Ministry of Magic appears to be working just like usual, but the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has abolished the Trace on all of-age citizens. They are no longer tracking everyone's magic."

If that was true, it was a big deal. So many of the witches and wizards living under the harsh regime felt powerless because they were constantly being scrutinized. Using the wrong sort of magic was punished. Using magic in the wrong place was punished. On and on and on the restrictions went. There were many who tried to use their magic as little as possible just to be on the safe side of the law. Too many people were shipped off to Azkaban or even executed because of the Trace. Before the Resistance learned how to cloak their magic, they were frequently caught in their seditious activities.

"Corban said that the entire tracking division in the DMLE had been disbanded. Some of them lost their jobs, but you'll forgive me if I admit to not giving a rat's arse what happens to them."

"So what does this mean exactly?"

Augustus wasn't prepared to join in the celebration with his old friend. Not until he could understand why the man was so excited to begin with. Hermione assumed that his confusion had something to do with the fact that he spent most of the last twenty years tucked away in France. He hadn't been affected like the rest of them who remained. Up until the day that he was recalled from France a few weeks earlier, supposedly by the ailing Dark Lord, he'd only come back for a few days or weeks at a time for over thirteen years. Once his request to marry Hermione was denied, he was shipped off to France to serve as something like an ambassador for the regime. He hadn't even been a part of her life again until she was on the run from Antonin. There was still a great deal he had to learn about what he missed out on.

"It means, Gus, that the war is about to begin… for real this time."

"How do you figure?"

"It would be rather difficult to fight if your movements were continually being watched and tracked, wouldn't you say? No one is going to be held back by the damned Trace any longer. Soon, you'll see what I mean. It'll start."

So excited was he about the potential for violence, Antonin didn't even notice how wide-eyed his son grew. Tucked away in the corner by the fireplace with one of his new school books, Hermione wasn't certain that her husband was aware that Oliver was even in the room. There wasn't excitement on her son's face. No, nothing but sheer terror marred his features. What he must have been imagining had to have been frightening. She tried to catch Antonin's eye to silently plead with him to stop, but he was too happy about the idea of fighting in another war to notice.

"It probably won't happen all at once, of course. Most aren't even aware the Trace is gone. News will get out soon enough though. I imagine those who lost their jobs haven't been silent about what happened. When it's common knowledge, someone will finally make the first move."

The sound of Oliver's book crashing to the hardwood floor startled everyone in the room into silence. Antonin spun around to see his son rushing towards the attic staircase. Too wrapped up in what he saw as the beginning of the very thing they were all fearing, he didn't even notice how much he was upsetting their son. Clearly, Hermione wasn't the only parent who could forget Oliver was in the room. While that thought should've made her feel the tiniest bit better about her failures as a mother, all she could think of was how scared her son must be.

She set her own book down on the sofa to chase after Oliver. Few times in his twelve years had she ever felt the urge to comfort him. A lot had changed in her life in just a short time. Glaring at Antonin to show her displeasure, she rushed up the narrow staircase to the attic bedroom. Expecting to find her son laying on his bed in tears, she was surprised to see him standing in the window that overlooked the ocean. Staring at him from behind, she was amazed by how much he looked like his father already. He wouldn't be a child for much longer.

"Oliver, are you all right?"

Her son didn't turn away from the window at the sound her voice. No doubt he must have found it strange to know that she followed him. It was something that usually was done by his father if anyone bothered to do it at all. She felt her heart clench at the reminder of all of the failures she'd made in his life. Was there enough time to make up for them? Or was she doomed to never be able to atone for her many mistakes? She had to push aside the thoughts of the day she told Rodolphus she was pregnant and wanted to keep it. There had been so much hope inside of her that day. Surprised that she'd been excited to learn she was pregnant again, she took it as a sign that she needed to try to make her marriage work. The blocked memory came bursting forth days after she learned about the truth of the staircase incident. She'd woken up in tears. Damn Rodolphus for his treachery! If her daughter had lived and they were able to become a stronger family, maybe all of their lives would've been better. Sadly, she would never know if that was the truth.

"Why does Papa want to fight so much? I don't understand."

Hermione moved to stand next to him, but didn't reach out to touch him. They were still building their relationship, still finding their place together. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable or startle him with too much too soon.

"Your father feels helpless, Ollie. Like he can't keep his family safe. Standing around waiting for something to happen is driving him mad. He sees the fighting beginning as a way for him to be able to do something."

"I don't want him to fight. I don't want you to either. It's been nice having the three of us together."

"I agree. It has been. Maybe you'll understand better when you're older, but sometimes you have to do unpleasant tasks, like fighting, to survive and make sure your family is safe."

He turned away from the window to finally look his mother in the face. Hermione hated how sad and frightened he seemed. She remembered all too well what it was like to be his age and afraid.

"Can't we just run away? Go somewhere else where no one who wants to hurt us can ever find us? That way no one has to fight?"

Hermione wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Almost immediately he sighed and some of the tension escaped his growing body. It seemed that all three members of the Dolohov family were interested in running. Perhaps it was a family trait. She was tempted to suggest that they all pack their bags again and leave. Only knowing that leaving while there was still so much uncertainty in their world was a bad idea kept her from acting on her wishes. Running from a problem was rarely the right solution.

"You don't think you'd miss Hogwarts? You couldn't go there again if we left."

"You could teach me magic."

It was such a sweet, naïve remark that Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. She envied him his innocence.

"I would be a terrible teacher. You'd hate me after a single lesson. Your father would be a much better teacher."

"Then Papa could teach me. I don't care. I just want us to be together and I don't want either of you to die. Hogwarts isn't more important than that."

She pulled her son into an embrace that he didn't reject. Holding him tight, she repeated assurances that they would do whatever was necessary to keep him protected and safe. For once, she meant it when she spoke those words. Whatever happened, if the fighting and the war did begin soon, she was going to do what was necessary to keep her son out of it.