September 14th

Rarely had Hermione felt so safe locked in Antonin's embrace. She woke up the morning after Hannah's visit in no hurry to push her husband away. Still sleeping contentedly behind her, his arms hadn't moved since they'd crawled into bed the night before. Protective and reassuring, she was thankful that she wasn't alone. Trying to imagine what it would've been like to endure all that she had without a constant support at her side only made her sad and her head spin. It was entirely possible that she would never get used to feeling glad that she had her husband in her life.

At her insistence, he'd shared with her the details of what he knew about Hannah's experience in the castle. None of them had been good. Almost a week after the end of the battle, he and Thorfinn were charged with finding whatever hole Amycus disappeared into. Known for his enjoyment of cheap wine and lots of it, everyone assumed that he'd been drinking his way into oblivion since the final showdown in the Great Hall. Not that anyone could blame him for the urge to escape for even just a moment.

Neither Thorfinn nor Antonin expected to find a battered and bruised Hannah inside his bedroom. When she first saw the two Death Eaters enter, she burst into tears, afraid that she was about to experience even more terror and pain than she had already. It had taken a long time to calm her down to the point that she trusted they weren't there to hurt her. From that moment on, Thorfinn felt protective of her, ready to fight to the death to keep her safe. While it took her a lot longer to even be open to the possibility of a friendship with the massive blond, let alone a romance, he was hers from the very first second his eyes landed on her.

Amycus wanted to argue that she belonged to him, that she was his spoils or whatever rubbish term he wanted to attach to his cruelty. Antonin refused to allow him. And because he held a much higher rank within the Inner Circle than the disgraced professor, his demands were met. Before the hour was over, Hannah was in Madam Pomfrey's care. The next day, Thorfinn personally escorted her to her father's house even though he desired nothing more than to keep her in his own personal protection.

It had been so easy for Hermione to assume that she had it bad in the aftermath of the war. She never took the time to really consider what it must have been like for everyone else, especially those that the Dark Lord wasn't personally interested in protecting. Given the opportunity, she knew that if she approached each and every one of the fighters from the Order or Dumbledore's Army still alive, they'd be able to tell her their own personal story to remind her that in the grand scheme of things, she'd been extraordinarily fortunate. What if Antonin had been hungry for revenge? Or something much worse?

Later that morning when Antonin kissed her goodbye, she allowed herself the chance to sit alone in the cottage to really consider how much worse off she could've been. While her life had been far from perfect or even all that happy, she knew that she was better off than most. If she'd been able to stay away from the dangers of potions addictions and didn't allow herself to be seduced into Rodolphus' bed the first time, who knew what kind of life she might have had?

Thinking about her potions addiction, she was intensely curious about the first few weeks after she ran away following her attack on Antonin. Bits and pieces came back to her the longer her mind was clear, but she still had some questions. How out of it had she been to not know how she even ended up in Kingsley Shacklebolt's flat? She wished that she could find him and ask him.

An idea formed in her head that was completely insane. Of course, hadn't most of her recent ideas been along the same vein? Antonin was out there in the world trying to find supporters to get the war over and done with as quickly as possible. He might not have said so explicitly, but she got the impression that he was merely looking for enough help to make it so Rodolphus was no longer a problem. Cut the head off the snake and all. If she could get a formidable ally on their side with extensive experience fighting against the very sort of witches and wizards that were their enemies, wouldn't that help? Her husband might not like the idea. None of that would matter, though, if she could get the additional support. He wouldn't be able to deny they needed help badly.

She was out the front door before she could talk herself out of her reckless decision. Sometimes being a Gryffindor could be exhausting. Part of her could see the value in strategizing and making plans that might actually work, but it was usually that bit of bravado and courage that all members of her House seemed to possess that got her moving. Focusing on the dingy flat she'd spent weeks in over a year earlier, Hermione spun in place.

The first time she could specifically recall that she was in Kingsley's flat, she could hardly move due to the enormous weight of her head. Never had she been so ill and incapacitated in her life. When he saw her with her eyes open, the former auror smiled broadly and welcomed her back to the land of the living. He confessed that he wasn't entirely certain that she would make it. That had been a sobering thought. Who knew that years of potions abuse could wreak such havoc on her body? She still wasn't sure how long she stayed there or how he even found her. All that really mattered was that he did find her before someone else with less altruistic intentions did.

She wasn't sure where the flat was located exactly. Based on the surrounding area of where she landed, she assumed that it was located in one of those dodgy parts of London that one didn't want to be found in after dark. It made sense. Kingsley would've been a high-profile capture. The Dark Lord would've wanted him. If he chose not to surrender his life to serve Lord Voldemort, then his execution would've been a powerful incentive for the others in the regime to fall in line. Hiding in the middle of the Muggles in parts of the city no respecting wizard would be caught dead in might've saved his life.

His flat was on the fourth floor. She couldn't remember how she knew that, only that she did. Her time in the flat had been such a blur after all. Climbing the stairs thanks to a lift that had likely been out of order since the first wizarding war, she hoped that by the time she reached her destination she might actually know what she was going to say to the wizard. Months earlier when he was helping her get Aberforth Dumbledore out of Level Eleven, he mentioned that he'd always hated her husband. Something about a girl they both wanted in Hogwarts. A ridiculous notion to hate someone, in her humblest of opinions, but she wondered if it was enough to keep the two men from finding common ground. Was she just wasting her time?

The door opened on the first knock. Half expecting there to be a fight to the death, Hermione kept a tight grip on the handle of her wand. Kingsley's bright smile put her at ease at once. Without saying a single word in greeting, the wizard stepped back to allow her entrance into his humble home. Once again she hoped that she wasn't making a mistake. It was dangerous to seek him out. They might have been allies a hundred years ago in another lifetime, but a lot had changed. Neither one of them were about to climb onto the back of a thestral to fight Death Eaters in the sky.

"I'm surprised I was able to find your flat so easily. I would've assumed that a secretive man like you would live in a Secret-Kept home."

"I do, but I told you the Secret a long time ago when you first arrived."

"And you still trust me enough to not update the charm?"

"So far I have seen nothing that would lead me to believe I couldn't trust you anymore, Hermione."

He gestured to a worn sofa tucked in the corner of the only room of the flat. It felt strange to be invited in like an old friend. When she was settled and Kingsley sat across from her in an armchair that appeared to be on its last legs, she wasn't sure where to even begin. How could she possibly explain why she was there?

"How did you find me? You never told me. I just remember waking up on this sofa."

If he was surprised by her question, Kingsley didn't show it. He had decades of experience working as a respected auror before the war ended. She probably could've learned a lot about interrogation techniques from the man when she was first starting out at the Ministry. He might not have been as brutal as she turned out to be, but he wasn't a wizard unsure of how to handle himself during questioning.

"You were wandering the streets of London confused out of your mind. Someone called the Muggle police. I have a contact who lets me know whenever anyone unusual is taken into custody."

"What do you mean by 'unusual'?"

"They found your wand. Not a common possession. Any time someone is arrested with a wand, he lets me know."

It was the exact setup in Wales that allowed Lee Jordan to find her when she was arrested for trespassing. She could see how it would be the easiest way to track witches and wizards taken into Muggle custody. When a stick was logged as a belonging and entered into the computer system, an alert must have been set up to warn Kingsley's contact.

"You weren't charged with any crime, so when I showed up and claimed to be your concerned fiancé, no one put up a fuss. I brought you straight here."

His wink made her chuckle. Perhaps in another world, another time, they could've been more than just friends. Hermione thought she might have actually enjoyed that. The man certainly was fit and she wasn't lying the day he pushed her up against the wall in the alley. She had fancied him as a teenager.

"Why? You could've easily just left me there."

"Someone with less pure intentions might have found you instead. Twenty years might have come and gone since we were last allies, Hermione, but I haven't forgotten. Maybe a part of me will always come to your rescue."

Whether he realized it or not, his statement left him open for her to come in with her proposal. She didn't know how much she wanted to tell him at first. There really wasn't that much to tell to begin with.

"Whose side are you on, Kingsley?"

"I've already told you. I fight for only one wizard. Who do you fight for, Hermione?"

There was a time not that long ago that she could've easily told him that she only fought for herself too. She used to dream of running and abandoning the family she never wanted for her own selfish purposes. So much was different. At times she couldn't even believe she was living her own life. It seemed to belong to someone else.

"It used to just be me, but now I fight for my family. I'm not being selfish anymore."

He nodded, seemingly approving of her answer. She was confused.

"Good. That's what you should do."

"Then why do you only fight for yourself?"

"Because I'm all that's left. My family is dead."

Never once in the years that she knew him was she aware that he had a family. But, to be fair, she never really asked. He was a mysterious man who kept his secrets. She felt guilty that she'd never really even thought much about him beyond the Order of the Phoenix. What else did she not know?

"If you're here to ask me to join you and your husband's little rebellion group, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to decline."

"Because you hate Antonin?"

"Something like that."

There was no reason to linger long after he made his statement. She didn't get the impression that she would ever be able to change his mind.