November 11th

For possibly the first time in her life, or more likely in her recent memory, Hermione actually looked forward to the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. She wondered how long it took for Alecto's body to be found, who was the unfortunate soul who stumbled upon the scene, and how her untimely death would be covered in the newspaper she worked for. Also, she couldn't help but be a tiny bit concerned that some of the blowback from the crime would land on her. As careful as she and Thorfinn were, there were always opportunities to improve. And she had to admit that considering their most recent interactions, Hermione was the most likely suspect. She knew she would have to be careful how she proceeded in the future. Enemies were everywhere.

Law and order post the Dark Lord was something of a joke, except there was nothing funny about it. Pius Thicknesse was proving his complete ineptitude as Minster for Magic. There was a very valid reason he'd only been placed in his position to be a puppet. As much as she might have wished to be effective, he was in over his head. The various departments and divisions within the Ministry ran themselves, leaving no authority to the central head of the government. Hermione could only imagine how chaotic the organization had become. Yet again she was grateful to no longer be a part of that wretched cesspool of corruption. How was it possible that she ever deemed that a desirable career choice?

She placed her order for her usual breakfast with one of the barmaids, actually feeling hungry enough to eat it. A satisfying murder made one crave food, sleep, and sex. Two out of three wasn't too bad. She would've been able to find a willing partner if she just looked around, but she wasn't interested. Too often sex felt like a chore. Though more than willing to use it if helped her further her cause, she was actually growing weary of the meaningless sex that had been such a large part of her life as a Death Eater.

No matter what she did in the past or might do in the future, she would never allow the overly-opinionated prudes with their obnoxious sense of moral superiority to make her feel guilty of how she'd learned to use her body as an effective weapon. Climbing into the right bed saved her life a time or two. She'd been able to cultivate alliances and destroy enemies all while enjoying the physical pleasures of the flesh. She was not ashamed even as she heard the insults muttered under her critics' breaths. All it made Hermione think was how pathetic and boring their own sex lives must be to judge hers. Likely they weren't getting nearly enough sexual satisfaction to quench their primal cravings. Or they'd been cursed with terrible lovers who didn't understand how to make their bodies sing. Either way, she pitied them. What a miserable sex-less existence they likely lived. Just the thought depressed Hermione. How did people manage to make it through life without enjoying sex? It was a reality she wanted no part of.

When her tray arrived with her steaming hot breakfast, Hermione picked up her copy of the Daily Prophet first. She was almost giddy with excitement. Who could she kill next to get the same kind of euphoric high? There were still so many enemies left after all. Though unlikely to fill her with as much joy as Alecto's murder or William Wood's for that matter, at least she would feel like she was doing something in their unpredictable and dangerous world.

Most of the front page was dedicated to memorializing another of their beloved, fallen reporters. With so many fatalities in recent days, who would be foolish enough to apply for the job opening next? Few details were given regarding Alecto's death as it was still 'under investigation', but no space was spared to tout all of the non-existent virtues of the deceased. Augustus was reported as being shocked and inconsolable. Hermione had to bite her bottom lip to keep from bursting out in loud laughter. It wouldn't do her any favors to be seen publicly celebrating the bitch's death.

A short article at the bottom of the page caught her eye, causing all hints of joy to disappear immediately. There wasn't even a picture to accompany the too-short article. Did he deserve so little respect?

Ronald Weasley Dead of His Injuries

She grew furious at the complete lack of recognition. Only a few details about how long he'd been in hospital and how he'd gotten there in the first place were printed. Nothing at all about his twenty years of loyal service to the Dark Lord or his love for his family or anything at all about the funny, Quidditch-mad boy who once faced a notorious murderer on a broken leg to protect his best friend. Or the wizard who jumped into a lake in the dead of winter without hesitation to save the life of the very same friend. He was reduced to nothing but a few meaningless lines. It was unfair and wrong. He was worth so much more than that.

Tears of rage and utter sadness rolled out of her eyes. It didn't matter that she hadn't been friends with him for twenty years. She mourned the loss of the boy he once was, the one that she loved very dearly. Why was reality so cruel? Embarrassed and further infuriated that someone might have seen her be emotional, Hermione ignored her breakfast and ran out the front door still clutching the newspaper in her hand. Running almost entirely on rage and instinct, she was surprised for only a moment to find herself standing in front of Draco's building. She hadn't been to his flat since the day he kicked her out. None of that mattered just then. Perhaps they could discuss that incident later, after she'd said all she wanted to say to the frustrating wizard.

"You're the reason Ron is dead."

Her words came flying out of her mouth the very second Draco opened his front door to her loud, insistent knocking. His confusion was evident at once. Furrowing his brow, he seemed on the verge of demanding what she was saying when she could no longer hold the rest of her tears back. Not caring that he was witnessing her emotional turmoil, she continued.

"You followed me to his house and told your uncle I went there."

Draco didn't even try to deny what was so evidently the truth. If the news got back to Rodolphus and his younger brother that Ron's loyalty was in question, they wouldn't hesitate to ensure he was no longer a problem. She'd been a witness many times over the years to their method of handling problems. What Hermione didn't understand was what Draco was really up to. How could he proclaim in one second that he cared about her and then betray her the next? What was he really doing?

"Why do you keep betraying me, Draco? Why do you pretend like you care about me and then run off to tell your uncle what you've learned?"

"I do care about you, Hermione. I've never pretended."

She wiped at the tears that were still streaming from her eyes. Part of her feared that they would never stop. It was the reason why she spent so many years suppressing the obnoxious tears. Crying made her look weak. Even though she didn't believe there was anything wrong at all with letting out a little emotion now and then to prevent from going completely mad, she knew that others amongst the Death Eaters didn't feel the same way. It was easier to just learn how to not cry than it was to worry. She didn't like feeling so vulnerable in front of the wizard. Deciding that she wasn't going to get anywhere with him, Hermione turned around to head back to the lift and then to her escape. A gentle hand stopped her from moving.

"Come inside for a minute. You shouldn't be wandering around like this."

There was no reason to argue or push him away. Truthfully, Hermione didn't want to leave. She'd been able to find a safe refuge in his flat before. Was it possible she could again? She allowed him to lead her inside and over to his large sofa. Once she was seated, she covered her face with her hands and willed the tears to stop. They didn't.

"I didn't know Weasley died. I'm sorry to hear that. Truly."

Hermione wasn't sure that she actually believed him, but she didn't have the energy to argue. They all had a long, complicated history. She didn't have the first clue what sort of relationship the two of them had since the war ended. It had always been her goal to avoid them both whenever possible. But she couldn't ignore the fact that Draco had only recently tracked her to Ron's house when she told him not to. It was his fault that Ron was dead.

"You're very confusing, Draco. One moment it seems like you're on my side and then the next, you make it obvious that you're not. Whose side are you on?"

He didn't want to answer the question. Much like his uncle, she didn't expect to ever get the full truth out of him. There was something that Draco wasn't telling her. Likely a lot of somethings. If she was wiser, she would run out of the flat and never return. But, as he'd had occasion to remind her of, she was too damn curious for her own good. If there was even the slightest hope that he might tell her what she wanted to hear, she wouldn't leave. He held a special power over her that she resented.

"Why won't you tell me, Draco? Why can't you tell me what you're really doing? Who you are really fighting for? What are your plans?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak and immediately closed it again. She could tell that he was bothered by her line of questioning, but she didn't care. He couldn't act like he was upset and sad over Ron's death when she knew that he played a hand in it. Even if it was very small, she knew that his report of Ron's potential disloyalty was likely the deciding factor in whether or not he was attacked. Maybe he'd never directly murdered someone. That didn't mean his hands were clean. Far from it, really. He simply allowed others to do the dirty work.

She didn't want to imagine Ron as being nothing more than a problem. Not when he once meant so much to her. The tears began anew as she considered the fact that she was the last of the three Gryffindors. Both of her boys were dead. Would it be much longer before she joined them? She didn't push away Draco when he pulled her shaking form into his arms. No matter how furious she was with him in that moment, she appreciated the comfort of his touch, the reminder, no matter how false, that she wasn't alone.

Whether she was the one to kiss him first or Draco was, she didn't know. The emotions and intensity of the moment escalated very quickly. She'd been so lonely, it shouldn't have really been a surprise that a touch of his hand turned into so much more. When they were alone, it was difficult to resist the pull of temptation. Ripping at the other's clothes, each of them simply wanted to forget the horror and sadness in their world to cling to something. It might have been false, but she desired the reminder that she was still alive.

Regret washed over her the moment they both cried out in the throes of their mutual releases. None of her sadness was gone. It had only been ignored for the short period of time that they allowed themselves the opportunity to forget. Back at full force, she worried she was going to drown or suffocate. Perhaps realizing that she was wishing she'd never been there or maybe because he was feeling the same way, Draco made an excuse to leave the room to get them both something to drink.

She watched the wizard cross his living room completely naked. What had once been a sight that she enjoyed seeing only made her stomach twist and turn. Not wishing to be there when he returned to the room, Hermione sat up to put her own clothes back on. She was embarrassed that she allowed her guard down even for a moment. As she was picking her discarded jumper off of the floor, she heard a distinctive vibrating sound coming from Draco's trousers. Though she knew it was wrong to dig in another person's pockets, her curiosity got the better of her. She slipped her hand in one of the front pockets, removing a small silver compact mirror as she did. Exactly like Antonin's, she had the gnawing feeling that it wasn't a coincidence. Confused and hoping she was wrong, she opened the mirror to see her husband's face looking back at hers.

"Hermione?"

Antonin was as confused as Hermione. Why was her husband using a secret mirror to contact Draco? She snapped it shut. When she looked up a moment later, Draco stood in the doorway with wide eyes.

"I can explain."

"Don't bother. I don't want to know."

She was out of his flat the moment she was dressed. If there was another secret alliance that she was unaware of, that wasn't the day for her to uncover it. She was too exhausted as it was to hear anything he might have to say.