October 19th

After leaving Draco's flat, Hermione didn't have the first clue where to go next. It was something that she should've considered in the days since she started to be well enough to move around. But, as she'd been doing for a long time already, she chose not to think about the possibilities, to ignore the reality of the situation. Finally, after at least a quarter of an hour of wandering around the dark and dangerous streets expecting someone to jump out of the shadows, she made her decision.

She wasn't sure who was more surprised to see her cross the threshold of The Three Broomsticks: Madam Rosmerta or an extremely intoxicated Thorfinn. Once she considered the fact that it didn't matter where she went, Rodolphus would be able to find her thanks to his nephew, she remembered the warmth and coziness of the familiar inn in Hogsmeade. If she thought it odd that she kept returning to the village she swore she would never go back to, she chose to ignore it.

"I'm not staying here a moment longer if you let that bitch stay, Rosie. She ruined my fucking life."

Every word that fell out of Thorfinn's mouth was so heavily slurred it was difficult to decipher. Hermione sighed, failing to keep from rolling her eyes. She didn't want to be around the wizard any more than he wanted her there.

"I just need a room for a few days. I promise not to bother any of your clientele."

Madam Rosmerta hadn't survived as long as she had in her business by denying a paying customer, especially not a dangerous Death Eater. Many times over the years she'd had to prove her loyalty to the regime by entertaining the Dark Lord's faithful in her inn and tavern. Hermione knew that the woman considered her a traitor, but she didn't care. She just wanted a clean room to sleep. Moving her eyes between Hermione and Thorfinn, she finally relented after several tense seconds. Sliding a key across the bar, she directed her newest guest to a vacant room. As Hermione climbed the stairs, she could hear the drunken shouts of Thorfinn declaring he'd never return to The Three Broomsticks again followed by Rosmerta's insincere claim that she was glad to hear it because she was tired of having to levitate his heavy arse off of the floor each night.

Hermione cast a silencing spell around her room as soon as she entered. Listening to the grief of the wizard was too much for her to bear. She knew that she would burst into tears if she allowed herself. The guilt she felt about her part in Hannah's death would likely never go away. Exhausted from both of her emotional encounters that night, she drank too much of one of the potions she'd been given after leaving St. Mungo's just to help her sleep.

She didn't emerge from her room until Friday morning when the first patrons of the day entered for their breakfast pint. How Rosmerta was able to keep such demanding hours was one of her mysteries. The woman appeared to never need sleep. Hermione took a seat at an empty table as far away from everyone else as possible. One of the tavern's helpers set a plate filled with a delicious-smelling breakfast in front of her with a copy of The Daily Prophet next to it.

Remembering her agreement with Albert, she picked up the newspaper with a smile. Not a single mention of her name was made in the entire issue. He'd kept his promise at least for four days. Considering the number of articles he'd allowed to be printed since the fall of the Dark Lord, that was a bloody record. It was clear that he was trying to do his part at least. After she finished her breakfast, Hermione decided it was time to pay him a visit and negotiate the terms of their agreement.

Her appearance for the second time in a week caused less of a disturbance than her first. The witch at the reception desk didn't even speak to her, just tried her best to avoid eye contact as Hermione made her way confidently towards the office of the Editor-in-Chief. Not even Alecto stepped out of her space to bother her. She thought at first that the bitch just hadn't arrived yet, but when she passed her office to see Alecto glaring at her through the open door, she realized that wasn't the case at all. Maybe Rodolphus ordered her to stay away from Hermione. If so, it was almost enough of a reason to kiss him again.

Moments away from opening the door to Albert's office, she was stopped by someone she wished she never had to see again. Dressed in gaudy lime green robes and wearing the same pair of jeweled spectacles she'd had for decades, Rita Skeeter blocked her from her path. Hermione groaned softly, wishing the other woman would just drop dead of a heart attack. She would never mind stepping over her lifeless body.

"I demand you tell me why Albert ordered me to stop writing articles about you."

"Maybe because he knew they were all rubbish and full of lies. Journalists are supposed to have integrity, are they not?"

Rita didn't appreciate her answer. A lot changed since the Dark Lord's funeral. There were entire decades that the laughable excuse for a reporter wouldn't dare to write a single sentence about Hermione that wasn't complimentary. When it was clear that she no longer possessed the same amount of power she once did, she was fair game. No doubt Rita couldn't stand the thought of returning to a time when she couldn't insult her nemesis in print. Old wounds didn't always heal with the passage of time. Some of them festered and grew pustulant.

"You shouldn't be so high and mighty. You're nothing. Madam Dolohov has become a joke. One day, you're going to come to a very messy and painful end."

The woman's threats only made Hermione laugh. She'd been unable to do anything but write nasty words about her since she was a fourth year. Even at that young age the bitch was terrified of what Hermione could do to her physically. An entire summer spent trapped in an unbreakable glass jar certainly hadn't improved her fears. She didn't have the desire to respond to Rita's amusing threat. Pushing past the woman, she turned the doorknob on Albert's office. Whatever cutting remarks the older witch said behind her back were ignored as she entered the room.

Albert wasn't surprised to see her enter the room. A smile that made her suddenly nervous crept across his face. With his eyes focused on hers, he flicked his wrist to cover the windows of his office with heavy curtains. If Rita was still standing outside, there was no way she would've missed the movement. Hermione plastered a smile on her own face, determined that she wouldn't let him see how unnerved she was. Once again she felt like she was trapped with a dangerous predator intent on doing her harm. It could be all in her mind, but she knew she had to be supremely careful around Albert Runcorn.

"I was wondering when I would see you next."

She thought about sitting in a chair on the other side of his desk in order to feel safer, but quickly pushed it away. If she really wanted him on her side and to pledge his own sort of loyalty to her, she couldn't let there be any space between them. Perching on the edge of his desk only centimeters from him, she didn't miss how his eyes raked over her entire body. She had to suppress a shudder. He didn't need to see that she was afraid.

"Thank you for not allowing any disgusting lies about me to be printed this week."

There wasn't even a hint of fear in her voice to her delight. She was able to keep her tone steady and add a bit of the flirtation that used to get her into a lot of trouble. It felt strange to no longer feel as confident as she once did around the wretched men in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Albert was a late recruit, but still not one to ignore. Too much time had come and gone since she last played the game. And without the crutch of her potions, she lacked the confidence she once possessed in abundance.

"Yes, I kept up my end of the bargain. What do I get in return?"

"What do you want?"

As she asked her question, Hermione widened her legs ever so slightly. Not enough to be obscene, it was just enough to catch his attention. A pleased smile crossed his face that she felt obligated to return. Some men were entirely too predictable. Dangle just the hint of sex in front of them and they were too pliable. Albert stood to his feet and stepped between her legs, forcing them further apart. Startled at first by the abrupt change in his position, she gave him just enough encouragement with a small grin that he pressed his lips hard against hers.

They'd kissed before many years earlier when he was still convinced that she would make the best wife for him. It would've been a business arrangement and nothing else. She considered his proposal, but then after kissing him, she knew it wouldn't be a good idea. He was too dominating, too used to being in complete control. While she might have found that attractive at times with other men, she worried that he would overpower her, force her into becoming a woman she didn't want to be. Antonin promised her on their wedding night that he wanted her fighting at his side. A man like Albert might believe he was attracted to a strong and powerful woman. He wouldn't know what to do with her in the long term though. It was best for both of them that they never followed through on the arrangement.

There was passion in the newspaper editor that didn't get enough of an outlet. Maybe life at home wasn't as exciting as he might have wished. Beyond the pretty witch in reception, he didn't have much choice in the way of illicit affairs in his workplace. Based on the way his mouth moved over hers and his hands tried to touch every bit of her body he could, she could tell that he'd been denying himself for a long time. That was a poor decision in a dangerous man like him. He was a powder keg waiting to explode. His lips moved from hers to drag against the skin of her neck.

"You should be aware that this is not all that I want from you, witch. I have several demands."

"I've always appreciated a man who knows exactly what he wants."

Her words were the encouragement he needed to rip at the buttons on the front of her robes. The sudden exposure of the bare skin of her chest and then moments later of her breasts when he tugged the lacy garment covering them to the cool air made her burst into a rash of goosebumps. Whether it was because of the chill or because she was nervous, she couldn't tell. His warm mouth covered one of her breasts, his tongue swirled around her hardening nipple, and she gasped. Was he going to be the sort of lover to ensure his partner received her own pleasure? He didn't seem the type, but she'd been wrong before.

Hermione leaned back on her elbows, allowing him better access. Still amazed that he wasn't immediately pulling up her skirts, she tried to enjoy the sensations. Throwing her head back, she caught the tiniest flicker of movement on the bookshelf behind Albert. A beetle with very familiar markings scuttled across the wood, seeking a hiding place. Hermione rolled her eyes yet again. Did the horrible woman think she was that clever? While Albert was occupied moving from one breast to the other, she slid her wand out of her pocket. The foolish man didn't even notice. All it took was a non-verbal spell and a flick of her wrist to petrify the beetle.

"Excuse me for just a moment."

She gently pushed the confused wizard back to hop off the edge of his desk. Reaching down to pull one of her shoes off, Albert watched her take the necessary few steps to his bookshelf. With the beetle frozen thanks to her spell, Hermione was able to bring the heavy sole of her favorite shoes crashing down on the animagus with a great deal of force. A satisfying splat made her smile. Because she wasn't a monster, she made certain to bang her shoe on the beetle several times. It would be cruel to leave the woman with just a broken skull and a broken back after all.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm afraid you're going to need to hire a new reporter, Albie. Looks like Rita won't be able to write any further articles about me."

It took him a moment to register the magnitude of what she'd just done. Most of the woman's flattened beetle carcass was still visible on the same shelf he had a lovely framed portrait of his entire family. The rest would need to be removed from her shoe with a strong scourgify. Albert's anger rose to a dizzying height. It was evident right away that he wasn't interested in continuing what they started.

"Get out of my office and this building, you crazy whore!"

Nothing Albert Runcorn could possibly say to Hermione would ruin her mood. She was positively elated as she buttoned up her clothes. One of her oldest enemies was gone. Even if she had to lose Albert as an ally, it was worth it. She'd figure out how to get rid of the rest of them soon enough.

It made her laugh when she walked out of the building to think about Rita's last words. Maybe she was right. It was entirely possible, even probable, that Hermione was going to come to a very messy and painful end. She could take comfort in the fact that Rita got there first.