September 12th

A day and a half after she returned from her late-night visit to Draco's flat Hermione was still angry with herself for how it went. How could she allow herself to be taken in by his kisses, even if they were enough to make her lips tingle hours after she left? It was ridiculous. She wasn't a schoolgirl sneaking around with her crush in darkened corners of the castle. She was a grown woman with a husband and a son. Her behavior was inappropriate. She couldn't allow Draco to manipulate her again.

Most of her anger about the failure of that visit rested solely with herself. Evidently, she misjudged his feelings of affection for her. Not that she should've been surprised by that in the slightest. That had been her experience for the vast majority of her life. She'd learned that everyone was going to disappoint her at some point. It was simply a matter of time and severity. Draco wouldn't be the exception.

When she returned back to the hated cottage after her failed visit to get the list of Rodolphus' enemies without removing a single piece of clothing, she'd been so angry that she downed the rest of the bottle of fire whiskey Antonin left. Though it wasn't her choice when it came to mind-numbing agents, she was limited in her options. The potions she preferred were illegal and she'd made promises to multiple people she actually respected that she wouldn't take them again. Thanks to the lingering sense of honor and nobility from her Gryffindor traits no matter how long it had been since she was a student, she couldn't go back on that promise. And besides, she wouldn't even know where to go if she wanted to. Clearly, she couldn't trust the hag in Knockturn Alley she used to visit.

Getting drunk did nothing to help her attitude. All Hermione succeeded in doing was throwing up in the bathroom and barely managing to drag herself to the bed Antonin was happily asleep in. He had more experience and many more years handling his alcohol. Fire whiskey was his vice. It was just her lame substitution. When the sun rose the next morning and dared to shine in her eyes, she cried out and covered her face with a pillow. Amused to discover his wife was experiencing a horrible hangover, Antonin took pity on her by covering the windows and promising to search the cupboards for a hangover potion.

Her mood wasn't much better the next day even if the pounding in her head was gone. She could tell that her husband was watching her out of the corner of his eye as she moved around the cottage. His concern was evident, but he kept his questions to himself. Twenty years of living with her taught him that she would speak only when she was ready. All trying to force a conversation would do was lead to an impressive row. She appreciated that he was making an effort to keep their fighting to a minimum. In close quarters, any amount of dissension could be unbearable. Besides, it was kind of sweet that he was so concerned about her. She could tell that despite the rockiness of their past, he still cared about her very much.

"Are you… are you all right, Hermione?"

Of course, she knew better than to believe that he would drop the subject entirely. It wasn't like her to get so drunk, especially not alone. Other than sipping at a small glass while they were talking, Antonin wasn't even aware she'd had too much to drink after he went to bed until the next morning. Any time she behaved the slightest bit out of her usual character, he worried. Likely he was still concerned that she was about to run away without warning him again. Certainly the thought had crossed her mind a time or two.

She was impressed that he made it more than a day before he asked. As they both sat at the kitchen table picking at the lunch he'd made, the lack of conversation got to him. He didn't like the awkwardness any more than she did. Taking pity on him, she granted him a small smile. Keeping secrets from the man she married used to be a lot easier. For a reason she wasn't sure she would ever fully understand, she wanted to tell him what she was thinking. While she certainly wasn't ready to tell him everything about Draco, she thought she at least owed him some sort of explanation about the mood she was in. Hoping that he wouldn't get too angry or too upset that she was so reckless, she took a deep breath.

"The other night after you went to bed I left for a short visit."

"Where?"

"Doesn't matter. I needed to meet with someone that I thought could help us."

Antonin wiped his mouth with his napkin, set it down next to his plate, and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed to hear the rest of the story. Already she could tell that he wasn't pleased to hear that she'd left without him knowing. But, if he decided to make a big deal out of it, she wouldn't hesitate to remind him again that she wasn't his prisoner. While Oliver was still at home, she could understand his anger that she put their son in danger. Now, with him tucked away in the castle, the only person she really had to worry about was herself. Her husband could take care of himself. She only hoped that he would eventually get to the point where he believed she could do the same.

"Is it someone that I know?"

"Yes, of course, but I'm not going to tell you anything other than that. Not yet."

At least he could understand the importance of keeping a source confidential. She might have been intensely curious to know just which mysterious people he was out there meeting every few days, but she knew better than to pry. If he wasn't sure that she needed to know, he wouldn't tell her. The same would go for Hermione. Besides, she wasn't sure how he would feel about Rodolphus' sort-of nephew being her source for anything. No doubt he would be suspicious that anything Draco told her was just being fed to her by Rodolphus. Of course, he would have a legitimate fear. She worried the same.

"I know that Rodolphus is making a list of all of your supporters and potential allies."

"For what purpose?"

"To dispose of them."

The unwelcome news wasn't a surprise. He simply sighed. While it was still a possibility that Corban was cursed by someone within his own Department and his wife was attacked to cover that fact up, Rodolphus was still their number one suspect. Besides, there would've been no reason for anyone inside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to blow up and demolish the Dolohov home. That was a personal message.

"I've been trying to get a copy of the list, but my source is… proving difficult."

"Are you sure they can be trusted?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I'm almost one hundred percent positive that anything they tell me I have to be careful trusting."

There was a time when she would've actually enjoyed playing this game with Draco. She once appreciated a certain level of intrigue. The early days of the regime were exciting. One never knew who was loyal to the Dark Lord or not. Hermione had fun rooting out the seditious traitors. In order to be the least bit successful at her job and not just arrest innocent victims, she had to learn how to read people and whether or not they were trustworthy. Draco was difficult to read. She wasn't sure that she would ever fully trust him or his motives. But, that didn't mean he couldn't prove useful.

"When you went to bed the other night, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'd already tried to get the list from him days earlier, but it didn't work. I hoped that catching him off-guard might yield better results."

"And did it?"

"He's demanding a price that I'm not willing to pay."

It was the truth. The more she considered what Draco was demanding of her, the less she was willing to do it. Expecting her to fall into bed with him again simply for information made her feel cheap, used. Maybe she used to be able to separate her feelings from her body when she slept with a man, but no longer. At least not with him. The emotions were already there. His demand made her as if she was nothing more than a prostitute. Was that how a man treated the woman he claimed he was falling in love with? If so, it was no secret why Draco Malfoy was still single. Who would want him?

"Sex?"

He asked so matter-of-factly that he almost sounded bored. Looking up from her plate that had become very fascinating during their conversation, she could see that he wasn't surprised at all. One trait of her husband's that she'd always admired was his intelligence. Antonin knew how the game was played, especially when it came to sources of the preferred sex of the operative in question. Using sex as a weapon or a bargaining chip was an old move. Considering she was exhausted to her very bones of lying, she didn't hold back. Only she wasn't ready to reveal the identity of the wizard just yet. Why she wasn't was still unclear.

"Yes, it was. Look, Antonin, I don't really understand what's been going on between us lately, but it's been… it's been very nice. I don't want to bollocks up whatever we have. Having sex with another man, even if it's for a good reason, just doesn't feel right. I couldn't do it."

His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk. She was embarrassed. Maybe it wasn't necessary to be that honest with her husband. When he pushed his chair backwards to stand up from the table, she felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. How was he able to elicit such a response to her after all of the years they'd been married?

"I've been a horrible wife. I guess I'm trying to be better."

Antonin's only response to her admission was to cover her lips with his. She was able to give in to his passionate advances without feeling even the slightest twinge of guilt.