September 11th

Hermione's restless mind kept her from going to bed with Antonin. Long after their conversation ended and he fell into a deep sleep that only too much alcohol could induce, she sat up thinking about the precarious situation she'd allowed herself to become a part of. Part of her missed the days when she was so out of her mind with potions that she didn't even have the mental capacity to think too hard about anything. Certainly she'd worried a lot less back then.

The old Hermione, the one who found joy and fulfillment in being the regime's embodiment of terror as Madam Dolohov, would've laughed off the very idea that she'd come to care very much for her only child and even the man she was forced to marry. There wasn't a lot of room for affection in that horrible woman's heart. All she had to live on were glimpses of past feelings that might have been love from men that didn't really deserve her. Coming to the realization that she'd allowed her heart to open up to at least the possibility of a future with her family was surprising. She never thought she would get to that point.

And she knew that if she wasn't careful, she would lose everything. Even if she could fantasize about running away to Brazil and creating a new life there, she knew that they had to fight the battle that was coming before she could escape. If Rodolphus was as intent on using her for his plans as she knew deep down he was, even an ocean wouldn't keep him away. She would have to spend the rest of her life running. It was no way to live. Looking constantly over her shoulder and never having the opportunity to really settle in wasn't how she wanted to exist.

She couldn't sit around waiting any longer. Checking in on her husband in the bedroom, once she saw with her own eyes that he wasn't likely to be disturbed by anything less than an earthquake for the next several hours, she gulped down a glass of fire whiskey to steady her nerves. What she was about to do was probably foolish, but it beat sitting in the cottage feeling helpless. Knowing that she would talk herself out of it if she took too long, Hermione took a deep breath and left the cottage. Thanks to the wonders of Apparition she was at her destination in no time.

No one answered when she knocked on the front door. Considering it was almost one in the morning, she would've assumed that the inhabitant was home in bed. Or at least on their way. A second knock also yielded no answer. She was prepared to just give up her mission as a foolish idea and return home when she heard the ding of the lift doors behind her. Spinning rapidly around, she watched as a smirking Draco crossed the small space to wrap his arms around her and kiss her without warning.

It was easy to give in to the affectionate embrace. The wizard knew how to kiss. Straight down to her toes she felt it. Rarely had she been so turned on by a simple greeting. Almost as if a switch had been flipped in her head, she felt the familiar confusion return. Whenever she was around her old bully, she couldn't think straight. A part of her worried that it was another spell, something that either Draco or Rodolphus cast on her or the wizard in question to make it so she couldn't think clearly in his presence. The more she considered the absurdity of the theory, the more she realized that wasn't it at all. She was simply caught up in the emotion of being around the wizard that represented so much. If the world was different, he could've been hers. Once they were able to get past the loathing and cruelty they both experienced throughout their school years, it was possible that they might have been able to form an actual relationship, something meaningful. Was she simply regretting the possibility of a future that could never be?

"I can always tell when you're here." Draco pulled his lips away from Hermione's long enough to pepper the sensitive column of her neck with fervent pecks. "I adjusted the wards. Doesn't matter where I'm at, if you're here, I can feel it. I promise to drop everything I'm doing to come here for you."

Hermione could lose herself entirely in the man if she allowed herself. The longer she was there, the harder it was to remember why she was there in the first place. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been so in lust with someone that she couldn't even think straight. When he stopped touching her long enough to open the door and drag her inside with a tug on her arm, she tried to keep her mind on her purpose. She was there to get the list, not to fall back in the man's bed. In order to keep from being seduced, she had to think clearly and rationally. Letting her biological impulses take over would get her nothing but grief.

Inside the privacy of his flat, Draco didn't hold back. In much the same manner as he'd done when she was there previously, he pressed her up against his closed door to put everything he had in his kiss. Every cell in Hermione's body seemed to be shouting at her to let him rip off her clothes and do whatever he wished right then and there. How many times had she allowed her instincts to act instead of her brain? It was ridiculous. Remembering why she was there, Hermione pushed against his chest until he broke the kiss. Evidently disappointed, he moved a half-step back to stare into her face.

"What is your problem, Hermione?"

"I just came here to talk."

He rolled his eyes. Many years had come and gone since she'd last seen him furious, but she got the feeling that all of that was about to change.

"You came to my flat in the middle of the night. What else am I supposed to believe you want?"

Of course it wasn't unusual for him to assume that she was there for more than a simple conversation. Especially after she allowed him to kiss her and she wasn't shy about kissing him back. Following him into his flat and then kissing him again surely didn't leave much doubt that she wanted him.

"I can't trust you, Draco. How do I know that you won't just betray me again if it suits you?"

The shadow across his face seemed to indicate that he was offended by the very idea that he was untrustworthy. It was her turn to roll her eyes. He didn't have the right to be upset that she would suggest such a thing. Hadn't he already done exactly that? Maybe he didn't understand the depths of the depravity and deviousness that Rodolphus stooped to in order to completely fuck with Hermione's mind and life, but that didn't matter. He still betrayed her.

Perhaps realizing that he was being unfair, Draco slid his hand gently against her cheek before kissing her forehead. The anger disappeared. Once again he was the kind, tender man he'd been when they were living together alone in his flat months earlier.

"I will do whatever it takes to prove myself to you, Hermione, and to atone for my past mistake. I shouldn't have said anything to Rodolphus about you. It was wrong."

She desperately wanted to believe that he was sincere. How much easier would her life be if she had another ally she could fully trust and rely on? It was exhausting not knowing who was an enemy and who wasn't. There was a simple way he could prove to her that he meant what he said. If he did as she asked, then maybe, maybe she would start to trust him again.

"Give me the list of who your uncle wants to attack. Let me have a chance to save them, or at least, to warn them before he does. How can I be sure he even knows who is actually working with Antonin? There could be innocent people he just assumes are on Antonin's side. I need to see who he's targeting."

His sudden laughter wasn't what she expected.

"I already told you I'd get you that list, but we had a deal. One night with me and it's yours."

He followed up his reminder with another searing kiss that she felt in her bones. Against her better judgement, she gave in again to the kiss. She wanted him. More than she'd wanted anyone for a very long time. It didn't make the least bit of sense. It wasn't as if she wasn't being sexually satisfied and she was desperate for some sort of human connection. Not in the slightest. Since the renewal of her sexual relationship with her husband, he'd reminded her just how passionate and fulfilling they could be together.

With Draco, it was different. It was something she hadn't quite figured out yet. Maybe when she was alone and scared running from the husband she thought was abusive, she latched on to Draco and she didn't know how to let him go. Her theory about there being some sort of spell or charm attached to him that made her unable to think clearly seemed to make more sense. Perhaps she hadn't fully explored that enough to make a definitive answer. Even her thoughts were contradictory around him.

She was very tempted to give in to his touches. List or not, it didn't matter. But, in the back of her mind, all she could think of was how wrong it was to let another man touch her when her husband was back at home asleep and completely unaware. Just because they'd both been unfaithful to each other in the past didn't mean that they were doomed to always live that way. And just because she'd made the same mistake in the past didn't make the mistakes in the present okay. Remembering what she was there for, she pushed him away again with a little more force.

"This is wrong. We shouldn't be doing this."

"Never bothered you before." He went in to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Don't tell me you're feeling guilty."

It wasn't necessary to respond to his statement verbally. Her feelings were written all over her face. Yes, she absolutely was feeling guilty. The revelation only made Draco laugh again. She was beginning to loathe the sound.

"You are! Don't tell me that you're actually trying to be faithful to your husband. Are you trying to make your marriage work?"

Hermione had had enough. With his laughter still ringing in her ears, she exited the flat and didn't look back.