September 9th

Hermione was grateful that Antonin didn't seem to even notice there was anything wrong with her. Or, if he did, he did an excellent job keeping his concerns to himself. Since their passionate experience the night before, she'd been unable to think of anything else but what a terrible wife she was. Would that ever change? Did she want it to? These were questions that plagued her that she didn't know the answers to.

Few times in her almost forty years had she been left so confused. What was happening to her? A stray thought that maybe Draco was able to get in her mind and manipulate her like his uncle tried to take root, but she was able to brush it away. It made no sense. What rational reason could the wizard possibly have for committing such a violation on someone he claimed to be falling in love with? Of course, there seemed to be no rational explanation for Rodolphus' actions either and the steady stream of gradually recovered memories seemed to indicate there was more to her relationship with Rodolphus than she initially realized.

It was an odd, disconcerting feeling to remember events and conversations that had been blocked. Hermione desperately hoped that she was nearing the end of the remembering process. Each day it seemed she was faced with another forgotten memory. Mr. Akingbade had been correct that her dreams would be filled with that which she'd been unable to remember. She wished they would stop. As glad as she was that her head wasn't filled with charms, she almost wished to go back to her ignorance. Her feelings for her husband were less complicated back then. At least she was only worried about herself. Caring about other people caused more heartache.

By mid-morning, Antonin couldn't sit still any longer. He was desperate for any news that might give him hope that Corban would be all right. Neither one of them wanted to admit out loud that they had an excellent idea just which of their enemies was capable of scrambling the man's brain so thoroughly. Rodolphus had been careful with his charms applications to Hermione's mind because in his own bizarre, twisted manner, he cared for her. If he didn't bother with precautions while messing with Corban, it was possible that he might be permanently damaged. Antonin left their cottage to return to St. Mungo's, hoping that the news would be better that day.

Once she was alone, Hermione's thoughts were once again consumed with Draco. She didn't understand the power he had over her. Deciding she would drive herself round the bend if she stayed in their hiding place another minute without trying to put her worries to rest, Hermione ran from the stifling cottage and arrived at Draco's front door only a short time later.

She feared she was being reckless, but as it was a part of her Gryffindor nature she was unable to change, didn't much care. Even if she came face to face with the manipulative monster haunting her dreams in his nephew's flat, at least she would be doing something. Inaction was unbearable. She had to take the risk.

The initial hint of surprise on Draco's face at seeing her return was quickly replaced with a pleased smile. As he invited her to enter his home, she considered cursing him and running away. What was she even doing there? She had no plan, no purpose. Only her curiosity and the infuriating manner in which he'd completely consumed her thoughts since her previous visit brought her back.

"I was having a lie-in. Late night, I'm afraid. Are you going to become my regular alarm clock? Because I'm not complaining."

Draco had her back pushed up against his door within seconds of closing it behind them and locking it. She tried to push away the nagging fear that he was locking her in instead of everyone else out. With his hands braced on the piece of wood on either side of her head, the wizard stared down at his captive, his pleased smirk making her heart race. Every physical encounter they'd ever shared had been exciting. If she allowed him to touch her again, would she regret it? Or would she finally get him out of her system and out of her head?

"It's not like you to be so quiet. I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"Of course not. You can't make me feel anything."

Except he could and worse, he knew he could. Deciding that she couldn't possibly be there for another failed attempt at an interrogation, he came to the conclusion that she was there for another reason. With the confidence of man who knew he was desired, Draco kissed her.

She didn't push him away, not in the beginning. As much as she loathed herself for her weakness, Hermione allowed her mouth to fall open in response. It was impossible to tell how much time passed with the two of them doing nothing more than kissing. However long, it was too long. Hating herself for allowing the act to go on, Hermione pushed Draco away just after he pressed his entire body firmly against hers, proving he desired much more than just a simple snog.

"I didn't come here for that."

Frustrated and more than a little annoyed by the turn of events, Draco stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. There was also anger in his eyes that she hadn't had cause to see for a long time. It almost frightened her. Had she been deluding herself all of that time about how the wizard truly felt about her? All of the questions that kept filling up the spaces in her brain were driving her mad. She wanted answers, not more confusing questions.

"If you care about me like you claim you do, Draco, you'll tell me what you and your uncle have been up to."

"Emotional blackmail? Isn't that what it's called?"

There were times she found the sarcastic remarks charming and amusing. That was not one of them. She didn't appreciate how flippant, how dismissive he was being. Maybe she'd wounded his pride by showing him she wasn't there just to be alone with him, but she didn't care. He could deal with his hurt feelings when she was gone. They were on two different sides of a conflict that was escalating to a violent war. She either needed his help or needed to know that he would never offer it.

"What do you know, Draco? What's going to happen next? I know you know about the Yaxleys. It must be in all of the newspapers."

"Yes, it is. Shame about Mrs. Yaxley. She's always been kind, but Corban knew what he was getting himself into by allying himself with your husband."

"Is that what's going on? Your little group is just going to start picking off all of my husband's friends and allies one by one?"

She could tell that he was fighting an internal battle whether or not to answer her question. No doubt if he was indeed working with Rodolphus and those foolish enough to follow the madman, he feared the consequences of his actions. If it became known that he was passing information on to her, Draco would be in a great deal of trouble. Not even his familial relationship with his late aunt's widower would save him. Hermione wanted to call him a coward and storm out of the flat, but she stopped herself. Maybe if she was patient a little while longer he would tell her something. Something compelled her to reach out and gently touch his arm. The simple act jarred the wizard. His shoulders slumped as he conceded.

"First, of all, I had nothing to do with the attack on the Yaxleys. I only found out about it after it was over. But yes, you're right. That's the plan. You were smart enough to figure it out. Roddy's making a list of all of your husband's known supporters. They'll start attacking them one by one until there's no one left. Then they'll kill him when he has no supporters left."

"And what about me?"

It was a selfish question to ask only seconds after hearing that there was a known plot to kill her husband, but she couldn't help it. Only a fool wouldn't worry about their own safety in that climate. She and Antonin were well aware of the fact that either one, or possibly both, of them could be killed in the conflict. After all, that was part of the life as a Death Eater, former or active.

"We have very specific orders that no harm is to come to you whatsoever. Why else do you think Alecto didn't attack you when she saw you at Rook's? Believe me, she wanted to very much."

The reasons behind Rodolphus' protection were unknown. She couldn't imagine what was going on in his warped brain. If she wanted to discover his plans, Hermione knew that there was only one option. She would have to ask him. Considering that idea would quickly become too dangerous, she pushed it aside.

"Can I have the list? Just so I can at least warn those who might be affected? I'm sure I know some of them, but not all."

"I don't have the list."

When she sighed, her hand slipped off of Draco's arm. Instead of allowing it to fall, he grabbed her hand in his. Gently squeezing it, he pulled her towards him.

"But I could probably get it if I was careful."

"Would you?"

"I'll grant your request if you grant mine."

Their bodies were so close again that his lips brushed the outside of her ear. She felt her mind go all fuzzy like it usually did in his presence. What was the power he held over her?

"What do you want, Draco?"

"You… for an entire night alone in my flat. Just like in May."

"And what if Rodolphus found out?"

"I wouldn't be hurting you. At least, not unless you asked me to."

Rarely had she been offered a more effective temptation. And, if she really considered it, it wasn't as if he was asking her for something completely outrageous or dangerous. They'd already been together more times than she could count. If it was while she was still under the influence of the spells cast by his uncle, it wasn't as if he was responsible, was it? She could feel her body long to give in. What would it hurt? One night of pleasure for the chance to save her husband's supporters and possibly, her husband himself?

"Just say the word, Hermione, and I'll get the list."

His lips brushed against hers, further confusing her. She couldn't allow him to manipulate her again. Too many men had already done that. Pushing him away from her, she unlocked his front door and made her escape. Not even his calls for her to stop were heeded. She needed to get somewhere he wasn't to think through her options without distraction.