November 28th

Recovering from the horrible night that Rodolphus had her drugged and violated her mind was harder than Hermione expected it to be. Once she was no longer running completely on adrenaline after she returned to the Dower House from Thorfinn's house, she collapsed in her bed. She wasn't ever entirely sure how she'd managed to find the energy she needed to get off the sofa in the first place, let alone Apparate to Hogsmeade and back. Sometimes her stubbornness could be an asset.

As she lay in her bed resting and trying to get the pain in her head to disappear completely, she kept thinking about Antonin. Thinking about him and missing him to her surprise. When she'd been afraid in recent days, her first instinct was to seek him out. That had to mean something significant. She tried not to consider the implications. It would just drive her mad. Besides, except for the time she had her mind manipulated to the point that she thought her husband was an abusive monster, she always felt safer when he was around. Even in the early days of their teacher-student relationship, long before she ever even considered him as potentially being more than just her mentor. For twenty years, especially during the hard times, he'd been a source of comfort and stability. She was afraid that maybe she was making more out of her feelings than she should. It was hardly the time. There were other more important issues to be concerned about.

Like when Rodolphus would try to assault her mind again. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that he would give up after one failing, especially not after he declared that he would try again soon. If he was aware that she left in the middle of the night to go somewhere away from the estate, he didn't confront her about it. Maybe he would in time. Only one time did he enter her bedroom the afternoon after she'd returned to check on her. She pretended to be asleep and he left after just a couple of minutes.

She refused to eat or drink anything that was brought into her room. While she didn't believe the house-elves enslaved by the Lestrange family would ever hurt her on their own, she feared the orders they were given. They could be putting potions in her food and in her drink. Perhaps not enough to make it noticeable, but just enough that she would gradually feel the effects when it was too late. She was grateful that her beaded bag still contained an adequate supply of food.

By mid-afternoon a full day after she returned, Hermione was startled out of a half-sleep by the door to her bedroom opening. Her guest didn't seem to even care that they were making a great deal of noise. Though her head was feeling much better thanks to the rest and a couple of healing potions she had stashed in her bag, she was still not at full capacity. Expecting to see Rodolphus enter, she was shocked when she opened her eyes to see it was Draco instead. He seemed angry. Curious to know what was happening, Hermione sat up in bed.

"You shouldn't be in here, Draco. If your uncle finds you…"

"Rodolphus is in London. He'll be tied up for hours. Some bother at the Ministry."

Somewhat more relaxed by his explanation, she at least wasn't worried that there was about to be a wizard's duel in her bedroom. Rodolphus made it clear when she was living in the Resistance's village that he didn't want her around Draco. At the time she just assumed it was because she was a bad influence who was likely to get him into trouble. It wasn't until much later that she realized it had more to do with his possessiveness and desire that no one touch her instead.

Draco sat on the edge of her bed. Once he had a good look at her face, he seemed to soften somewhat. She wondered why he was there. He hadn't even attempted to contact her since the day she asked him about his working relationship with Antonin.

"How are you feeling? Are you sick?"

"No, I'm all right."

He rolled his eyes, evidently annoyed by her untruthful answer. Was she that noticeably unwell? She hadn't even bothered to look at herself in the mirror, afraid of what she might find looking back at her. There was more than one reason why she promised Kingsley she wouldn't take potions again. Getting off of them wasn't an easy process. She was glad that at least she only had a small dose after she forced herself to be sick. Any more and she might've been much worse off.

"No one is still in bed in the afternoon if they feel well, Hermione. What's wrong?"

His clear agitation put her on edge. She wasn't interested in confiding to him about anything. What was his reason for being there? It was still possible that he was there under orders from Rodolphus to try to discover just where she'd gone. When she didn't immediately answer his question, Draco grew even more impatient. He wasn't looking his best either. Lack of sleep was apparent. What was really going on with him? She almost didn't want to find out.

"I heard you were looking for Antonin in the middle of the night. Why?"

"How do you know about that?"

She felt sick to her stomach. Was he still tracking her? It would make sense, of course. She wished she knew who to trust. Draco might have claimed he was working for her husband, but that didn't make him an ally. He was also working for his uncle and probably still for the Resistance. Quite possibly he didn't even know where his true loyalties lay himself.

Draco held up his silver mirror with a smile that pushed her just a little further over the edge. The smile that was on his lips wasn't one that made her feel safe.

"Not sure your husband realizes how easy it is to charm these so one mirror can hear all of the conversations."

He was pleased with himself. So many questions and worries swirled around in Hermione's mind at his announcement. What had he heard from the others that had similar mirrors? She still didn't even know how many existed or who held them. Draco might've been able to give all sorts of information to the wrong people if that was the case. And, if he could listen in, who else had figured out the same spell? She needed to find Antonin or Thorfinn to warn them that the mirrors weren't secure. All it would take was one person hearing the wrong statement and they would all be in severe trouble.

"That was a private conversation, Draco."

"You look awful."

She scoffed, unable to believe what she was hearing. Why was he even there? She wished he would go away. The last few times she'd been in his presence, including the day she'd been so emotional about Ron's death that she allowed him to seduce her just for the opportunity to forget her pain for a short time, she'd noticed there was something strange about the wizard. He wasn't being as stealthy and cooperative as he once was. There was a time when she thought she might actually be able to trust him. It seemed that that time was long since passed.

"Thanks. Is that what you came here to do? Insult me? Because you can just leave."

Perhaps realizing how rude his previous statement sounded, Draco sighed. His shoulders slumped and he looked as if a strong wind would knock him over. What sort of activities was he still involved in that kept him from getting a decent night's sleep? She couldn't imagine that he was still tracking enemies.

"No, I'm sorry. I was just worried about you." He reached out to touch her curls. What was a comforting gesture when some did it made her nervous when he tried. "I wanted to find you right then when I knew you were looking for him in the middle of the night. It killed me to wait long enough for Rodolphus to leave for me to come speak to you. I've been imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios."

He was passionate in his response. She would give him that, but Hermione wasn't so sure that she could trust him. He seemed to be unraveling. They all seemed to be unraveling. The death of the Dark Lord and the destruction of the regime they'd been living under for twenty years had taken its toll on everyone. It would take some time before they were all back to normal, if that was even possible. Deciding that it would be much easier on her if she just pretended to believe him, she offered him a small smile. Draco relaxed even more.

"Did you find out something upsetting that you needed to tell Antonin?"

The probability that Draco was in her room asking her that question just so he could pass along what he learned to Rodolphus was quite high. She was nervous to answer, nervous that saying the wrong thing would put Rodolphus on the defensive. In order to learn what she needed to learn, she had to keep him believing that she trusted him. Or at the very least that she didn't distrust him. Refusing to answer would be suspicious. She might have to start at the very beginning with earning her host's trust. But, she also would be in trouble if she admitted the truth. She'd been afraid that night because of what the Lestrange brothers did to her. If it got back to either one of them that she was more aware of what happened that night than they knew, she would be in grave danger. Rodolphus might decide that it would be better to just use another body, whatever that meant. A believable lie would have to do.

"I was worried about my son. The other night I had a horrible dream about him and when I woke up in the middle of the night, I couldn't go back to sleep. Rodolphus said… he warned me a few days ago that he could get to my son in the castle if he needed to. I wanted to find Antonin just so I could know that Ollie was all right."

"And did it help?"

"Hardly. Antonin wasn't very happy that I'd bothered Thorfinn over such a 'trivial matter'. He also didn't appreciate being asked to travel so far in the middle of the night just to make me feel better. I doubt he would do it again if I asked."

It wasn't the truth. She had little doubt that if she ever asked for Antonin, he would be there as soon as he was physically able. Maybe it was cruel to hold on to that realization with a bit of smugness, but she did. If she needed Antonin, he would be there. Except, she worried that all of that would change when the secret of his daughter eventually came out. Would he be able to forgive her? Would he understand why she'd been scared to tell him? She could tell him about all of the hundreds of times she made up her mind to confess and then was able to convince herself that it was too dangerous. Would that soften the blow of her deception?

"So it was just about being afraid that your son was in danger?"

"'Just about'? I can assure you, Draco, that the safety and security of one's child isn't inconsequential."

Her righteous indignation added a little something to her story, she thought. If the story of why she left in the middle of the night got back to Rodolphus, which she had no doubt that it would, at least she'd told a plausible lie. Rodolphus was already aware that she was worried about Oliver. It would make sense.

Draco was much calmer at the end of their visit than he was at the beginning. He didn't linger long after she told her lie. There was no need to. He'd completed his mission and his uncle would be glad to hear the results.