September 21st

Was it possible to die of insomnia? Hermione couldn't remember. Probably. Or maybe it was simply one of many symptoms that could cause her body to shut down. It seemed like she once knew the answer or at least where to find it. Every passing day made concentrating on anything more difficult. It was maddening.

She hadn't been able to get a proper night's sleep since before Antonin left. Realizing what an effect that man had on her ability to feel secure and safe was infuriating. How could she have allowed herself to get to the point where she was so dependent upon one man? She hated herself. Connections were weaknesses. Hadn't she learned that already? She loathed Antonin for making it so she was dependent on him for anything. He was the one, after all, who taught her all of those years ago to rely on no one, to trust no one. She really should've listened.

Long past the point where she was sad about what happened at the castle, she was livid. How dare her husband declare that her family was no longer hers? He didn't have that right. Maybe he could kick her out of his bed, but he for damn sure couldn't kick her out of Oliver's life. He was her son every bit as much as he was his. While she could certainly agree that Antonin had been a consistently good parent for the entirety of their son's life, she was still his mother. She wasn't ready or willing to just walk away like her family meant nothing to her.

How could so much change so rapidly? She would hate Rabastan until her dying day. Or at least until the moment she was able to slice open his throat to watch the blood drain from his body. He deserved a painful death. Maybe she would be fortunate enough to grant him one. He'd taught her a lot over the years they worked together how to extend a person's pain. She looked forward to being able to use his techniques against him. Once she was able to keep a man alive for three days while she tortured him into giving up all of the intelligence he had on their enemies. That had been purely business. Rabastan was personal. She would do much worse. He tried to ruin her life and she wasn't about to let him get away with it.

She knew she needed to get some sleep, but she didn't know how that was going to happen. Nothing she tried seemed to work. Hot baths didn't help. Alcohol didn't work. Going for a long jog didn't make her the least bit sleepy. She'd even tried one of Antonin's damned strawberry flavored potions. Even that didn't work as it normally did. Each time she laid down with the intent of falling asleep all she could think of was the empty space in the bed next to her. Moving out to the sofa didn't solve her problem. Every noise, no matter how quiet, would jar her completely awake. How had she been able to survive alone for a year? She'd forgotten all of her tools for survival.

Antonin wasn't coming back. She was foolish to imagine that he would. As she laid awake hour after hour thinking over her situation until her brain hurt and yet still could not fall asleep, she came to the conclusion that his pride would keep him from returning to her to make amends. If she wanted to smooth it all over and go back to planning a future with her family in Brazil, she would have to find him.

Her searches for him kept coming up empty. She went to all of the places she knew he used to hide in the past. Even Teddy Lupin's shop. The young wizard simply shook his head with wide eyes when she asked if her husband was there. He probably thought she was completely insane, but that didn't matter. Truthfully, he was probably right. It wasn't as if she'd been operating under her full steam for quite a while. Every other location likewise turned up empty. It was frustrating, maddening. Where was he hiding?

In his haste to leave to go to the castle the night Oliver was attacked by that horrible girl, he'd left the bottom half of his favorite pajamas on their bedroom floor. Because of their magic bags, it was the only possession of his remaining in the cottage. And thanks to the attack on their home, the house they'd lived in together for twenty years was nothing more than a blackened hole in the ground. Flimsy pajamas that were long past their best days was all she had left of her husband's.

A ridiculous idea came to her. It was insane and would likely cause her more grief than it was worth, but desperate times and all that. She knew that a lack of sleep coupled with her anxiety wasn't truly conducive to making good decisions. Still, she had to try. Packing up everything that was hers into her beaded bag, she shoved Antonin's pajamas in there too. Once she'd splashed some water on her face and tried to make herself look presentable, she exited the cottage. There was one way she knew that she could find her husband.

Draco answered his front door after her first knock. A smug grin was on his face until he saw the state of his guest. Hermione was embarrassed. Did she look as haggard as she felt? She tried to smooth down some of her flyaway curls, but she knew it was no use.

"Come inside."

Her host must've been worried by the fact that she didn't threaten him with violence or even pull her wand out of her pocket. If he truly desired to harm her, he could've. Maybe a small part of her was hoping he would do just that. At least she wouldn't have to worry about the future. She was exhausted of fretting about what her life would come to. Ending her miserable existence didn't even sound that terrible. She'd already resigned herself to the fact that she likely wouldn't make it out of that present war alive. What was the use in delaying the inevitable? Her present exhaustion could very well be the sort that wasn't cured of sleep alone.

"Can I get you some tea? Or maybe something a little stronger?"

His effort to be a welcoming host almost made her laugh. If she hadn't been so bloody tired, she would've. Draco was acting as if it was every day that she dropped by his flat, like they were old friends. Interesting how they could both push aside the fact that they were enemies fighting on opposite sides when they wished.

"I need your help."

He led her over to the large sofa she had so many fond memories of. No doubt he was afraid she would collapse in a heap on the floor if she didn't sit. Almost at once after sitting down and leaning against the back of the sofa, she thought she might be able to finally get some rest. Being with another person helped to calm her down. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to reject Hannah's offer to allow her to sleep in their eldest daughter's room.

"Hermione, when was the last time you got some sleep?"

"I look that terrible, do I?"

His soft chuckle put her at ease. There was none of the cold cruelty she was used to hearing in the sound. He gently pushed some of her hair behind her ears. The simple touch made her want to close her eyes and revel in the feel. Hardly the appropriate way to act alone with her enemy. Exhaustion was wreaking havoc on her senses.

"No, you never look terrible. Just tired."

"Liar."

She smiled when he laughed again. What was wrong with her? Were they actually flirting? She couldn't allow it to go on. The last thing she needed to do was give Draco the wrong idea about why she was there. It was hard enough to think clearly around him under normal circumstances. When she was practically delusional because she hadn't slept in days? Even worse.

"I need your help."

"You mentioned that earlier. What could I possibly help you with? You've made it clear that we're not friends."

"Draco, I… I need you to track down my husband."

Based on the widening of his eyes, he never would've guessed her true purpose for coming by his flat. It was an insane favor to ask him she knew. After all, she and Draco had once been lovers, and not even that far in the past. Whether or not he was sincere in telling her that he thought he was falling in love with her or if it was just another game he was playing, she didn't know. Their world was entirely too complicated. It would have been an awkward request to make of any of her enemies, but because of their past, it was even worse. Hermione wouldn't have been the least surprised if he threw her out of his flat. Or stunned her and let his uncle know where she was.

"What do you mean you need me to track down your husband?"

"Exactly what I've said. Antonin's left me and I need to find out where he's gone."

"Why?"

"Because I'm worried and I can't sleep when I'm alone anymore. I need to find him to apologize, so he'll come home and we can leave the country with our son together."

Draco stood to his feet and clenched his fists. Pacing the priceless rug he once warned her not to vomit on, it was clear that he was upset. Hermione didn't know if it was genuine or part of his act. She'd never really known anything about the man. Everything he did was a complete mystery. Finally, just when she thought he might toss her out the front door, he sighed.

"You have a great deal of nerve, Hermione. After everything I told you…" His shoulders slumped with the weight of another sign. There was no anger in his grey eyes when he looked at her again. What the emotion was exactly, she wasn't sure. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. I didn't know where else to go. If I knew the spell you used, I could just find him myself, but you refused to teach me."

She knew she was sounding irrational. Even she could hear it in her voice. It was a stupid idea to come to Draco. Why would she ever think it would work? Lack of proper sleep was affecting her more than she realized. Completely humiliated, she stood up and headed for the exit. She didn't want him to see her like that for another moment. It was too embarrassing.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

He was able to cross the room to block the front door before she could get there. When he refused to budge, she seriously considered cursing him. Only the fact that she needed him to track down her husband kept her from harming the obnoxious wizard. He placed gentle hands on her upper arms and stared into her exhausted eyes.

"You haven't eaten in days, have you?"

She couldn't deny the truth when it was presented. Yes, she'd forgotten to eat. Probably wasn't helping her cognitive abilities any more than lack of sleep. Knowing the answer, he took her by the hand and carefully tugged her to the kitchen. Depositing her into a chair, he moved around the space brewing tea and finding her something edible. She could barely keep her eyes open. The heat in the room coupled with the homey sounds he made relaxed her.

"Eat a little. Drink some tea. It'll make you feel better."

It did help to fill her empty stomach even just a little. She nibbled at a piece of bread and gladly swallowed the contents of her teacup in just a few gulps. Only when she felt her eyes droop to the point that she couldn't keep them open did she remember she should've checked the tea and food for potions first.