August 30th

Draco had a way of getting under Hermione's skin and staying there that she didn't care for. Seeing him outside of Augustus' house again shouldn't have been a surprise at all considering his pattern, but his presence bothered Hermione tremendously. For the rest of the night and well into the next morning, she could think of little else. It was her fault that she allowed the enigmatic wizard even the slightest hold on her life. She should've done more to push him away, to resist his surprising charm and she should have never allowed him to seduce her.

Sex had been an effective tool that she'd chosen to use in her career as a Death Eater. Well aware of what others said about her behind her back and even sometimes to her face due to her choice in utilizing her physical assets, Hermione didn't care. It was her body to use how she wanted. Not only was she able to learn a great deal about both her potential allies and enemies she wouldn't have had the opportunity using other methods, she generally had a good time doing so. She meant what she said when she said to her husband the day she told him about what she found out about her potions. In the twenty years since the war ended and her life changed, she never went to bed with anyone she didn't invite. She'd had to get her hands dirty a few times to prevent unwelcome advances from escalating, but she hadn't minded. Refusing to be a victim, she used what talents she possessed.

Rarely had anyone used the same weapon against her. Ordinarily she was too aware, too paranoid to allow herself to be manipulated through sex. It took talent to do it seamlessly. Most simply couldn't. She hated herself for allowing Draco to get to her using her own devious methods. It was imperative that she not let it happen again. There was too much at stake.

She tried to keep her mind occupied with assisting her son prepare for school. Even just a month in Augustus' house gave Oliver more than enough opportunity to make a complete mess of his temporary bedroom. Helping him find lost socks and scattered books was one way to keep her mind off of Draco.

"I hope you aren't going to take advantage of the house-elves in the castle, Ollie. You must start picking up after yourself."

A dramatic roll of his eyes and an exasperated groan out of her son's mouth was enough to make her laugh even when she knew she shouldn't encourage his behavior. There was still so much she had to learn about being a parent. For the first time in his entire life, she actually wanted to know more about her son, wanted to spend more time with him. It worried her to no end that he was about to go off to the castle in the middle of such uncertain times. She desperately wanted to believe that the truce would be effective and followed to the letter by all parties involved, but she was pragmatic enough to know that truces were often disregarded. After all, she knew better than most what it was like to go to Hogwarts in the middle of a war. As much as the parents might have desired to keep them out of it, children were often dragged in.

It felt strange to Hermione to recognize the fact that she was actually going to miss her son when he left. Too much of his life was spent with her happily shuffling off her parental responsibilities to others more capable and willing. There was a very valid reason why Oliver was much closer to his father. When she was able to, she stayed away from their home in Hogsmeade and often even when she was there, she was too influenced by the damned potions to really even know what was happening. Her legendary temper, exacerbated by the rage potion, made her only child afraid of her. He had a habit of running and hiding when her mood was scary. She hated knowing that fact. She hoped that there would be time to make up for the mistakes she'd made. Oliver was a fascinating young wizard that she discovered she liked a lot. Just like his father, he made her laugh when she least expected it.

"I wish I'd packed my trunk. I didn't know that I wouldn't be at home when you had me pack my bag."

When Antonin insisted they pack the enchanted bags she made them to be prepared to run, Hermione hoped that they wouldn't actually be needed. Part of her didn't allow herself to believe in the possibility that they would abandon their home. It never even occurred to her to make certain that Oliver had his trunk and all of his school supplies tucked away in the magically expanded bag. She could understand his frustration.

"I had Exploding Snap cards in my trunk. And, it's going to look silly when I show up with nothing but a little bag."

At the tender age of twelve, it was very important that a child not feel like they were different from the other students in any way. While there were some blessedly confident children who went their own way without fear of how their peers perceived them, most just wanted to be like everyone else. She remembered feeling that way so strongly at his age. Maybe a trunk didn't seem that important when they were running for their lives, but she knew it was to him.

She made a decision that she was almost certain she would come to regret later. It was the middle of the day and Antonin was gone from the house. No doubt he was off meeting with someone mysterious about joining his side or whatever such nonsense he did all day. In her opinion, his time would've been better used spent trying to figure out a way to get his family safely out of the country and somewhere pleasantly warm and relaxing. Hermione gave her pouting son a warm hug and promised him that she would be back shortly. Down at the bottom of the attic staircase she met Augustus as she exited the fake broom cupboard.

"I'm leaving for a little bit. Do you mind staying here with Ollie until I get back?"

"Of course not."

Augustus winked, and to her great relief, asked no questions. Experience taught him years earlier that she would do what she wished to do no matter what he had to say about the idea. It was a lesson that she desperately wished Antonin would learn one day. While she knew that Antonin cared deeply for her to the point that he was almost constantly afraid that she was going to put herself into danger that he could not get her out of, it was frustrating. As much as she could appreciate what it felt like to be a control freak and how much it angered those they cared about, her patience grew thin.

Even before she stepped across the Anti-Apparition wards surrounding Augustus' property, she had a plan in mind. It might have been a surprise for some people to learn that there were actually times that Gryffindors made plans before they did something rash and dangerous, but they did. She knew her house was being watched by some of Rodolphus' incompetent goons. Maybe he'd been able to secure the loyalty of some of the dimmest Hogsmeade guards. Antonin claimed it took them over an hour to even notice he was in the house when he snuck in before. She wasn't planning on being there nearly that long. Once she had Oliver's trunk in her possession, she had every intention of getting out of there.

She didn't like how eerie and silent her house was. It felt abandoned, discarded. Deep down she knew that they would never live within its walls as a family again. That era of her life was over. She forced away the depressing thoughts lest she get distracted from her very simple mission. No one was in the back garden that she could tell. A quick survey of the familiar space indicated that she was alone. She was glad. Fighting to get inside would've wasted valuable time. It was her plan to get in and get out quickly.

Stepping inside for the first time since Rodolphus' visit was unnerving. She could only feel the barest remnants of Antonin's wards surrounding the house. Mostly left unprotected, Hermione was amazed that it hadn't been vandalized. Surely there were a number of people left in the village who wouldn't mind storming their home to take souvenirs. Perhaps there was still a little bit of fear in their hearts when it came to the Dolohovs. They could use that to their advantage if it became necessary.

Being alone in the house that had been her home for twenty years made Hermione's skin tingle and itch. Every second she was inside, she wished she hadn't made the decision to sneak in for a school trunk. She rushed up the stairs, ignoring the reminder in the back of her head that she might never climb those steps again. Oliver's room was almost as messy as the room in Augustus' attic. Rolling her eyes, she opened his trunk at the foot of his bed with a spell. Another series of spells brought all of his leftover clothing flying through the air to fold themselves neatly into piles inside the trunk. She summoned the rest of his belongings: his books, his old toys, everything. They could sort through it all back at the safe house. Once it was full and nothing else flew through the air at her command, she closed and latched the lid of the trunk. Levitating it in front of her would be the easiest option, but it would leave her potentially vulnerable if someone chose that moment to attack. Shrinking the trunk to a size small enough to fit in her pocket, she also added a charm to make it as light as a feather. Tucking her son's trunk with all of his remaining worldly possessions in her pocket, she gave one last look around the room that had been his since the day he was brought home from St. Mungo's.

She knew it was foolish to take another look at the bedroom she shared with Antonin, but she couldn't help herself. If this was to be her last opportunity, she wanted to take advantage of it. She stood in the doorway and stared at the empty room. It looked just like they had only been in it minutes before and had every intention of returning. Except she knew they wouldn't. Taking another deep breath, she turned her back on the space.

At the bottom of the stairs, her eyes fell on a framed picture still sitting on one of the side tables. Taken years earlier when the Dolohovs were on a camping trip, the three of them actually looked happy. How was it possible that the frame was overlooked when they were packing? Hermione put it in her pocket with Oliver's trunk, worried that she'd lingered too long. Less than a quarter of an hour had passed since she arrived, but she had the unnerving feeling that she was no longer alone in the house.

The door to the kitchen opened right as she allowed the upsetting thought to cross her mind. Hoping that it was a furious Antonin come to berate her for being reckless and foolish, Hermione's stomach sank when she saw the smirk on Rodolphus' face. She should've known that no matter how short she made her visit, it wouldn't go unnoticed by the monster. Preparing herself to fight, she pointed her wand in the man's face. His response was simply to hold up his empty hands, proving that he wasn't about to engage her in a duel.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Like I would trust a single word that came out of your mouth."

"I've never wanted to hurt you, Hermione. Your family? Well, maybe a little."

Knowing what she knew about the man and what he was capable of frightened her to her very bones. He was dangerous, unpredictable. But, alone with him for the moment, she couldn't help it that her curiosity got the better of her. It usually did. Maybe he would be willing to answer some questions as long as he didn't have an audience. Somehow she knew without needing to verify with her own eyes that he didn't feel the need to bring anyone else with him. She knew him well enough to know that he could get cocky when he believed he had the upper hand.

"I know what you did to me, Roddy. I know about the spells and the charms. While I don't know how you managed to accomplish it, I know that you're the reason I almost killed Antonin at our son's birthday party. Why?"

His laughter sent chills up her arms. It was an awful sound. Once upon a time she enjoyed it when he was relaxed enough to laugh. Now, she despised it and wanted to curse his mouth shut.

"I wanted you to kill Antonin so he wouldn't be a problem for us in the future and so your son would hate you."

"Why? Oliver is an innocent in all of this."

"I never could abide that brat. Didn't want him around."

Yet once more in her life she shouldn't have been surprised by the cruelty of the man, but she was. Of course it made sense. He would be killing two birds with one stone as the proverb would say. Antonin would be out of the picture and her son would never want to speak to her again. There was a sort of sick brilliance to the plan that she might have once admired.

"Go on and run back to whatever hole you have your family hidden, love, but just remember that I'll find you again when I'm ready for you."

He was out of the house moments later. She followed him out to the back garden where he Disapparated away. Never was she more grateful to see Augustus' house when her feet landed in Cornwall again.