December 13th

Hermione's list of enemies had grown surprisingly short in the aftermath of recent days. No longer was she concerned with everyone whose name was written down on the parchment that Draco gave her months earlier. Most of them didn't matter to her in the slightest anymore. And besides, a number had already met their own sticky, painful end. She didn't know or even care to know any longer which of the witches and wizards on the list were truly on Rodolphus' side or were being influenced by her husband in secret.

There was only one enemy she wanted to get rid of. Rodolphus had been alive entirely too long. If it was possible to do so without getting herself hurt, she would've gone searching for the wizard to finally put an end to one of their miseries. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that she would win without question. He had been a Death Eater before she was even born and during some of the most dangerous and tumultuous days of their Dark Lord's life. Trying to kill him without being fully prepared could easily become her own death sentence.

Of course she wasn't able to actually do anything about the horrible wizard until the spell that he placed in her head was removed. What if she was successful in killing him only to discover that the spell was activated upon his death? Fenrir offered the plausible suggestion that it would likely be broken when he died like most spells, but she was afraid to believe that was the truth. Waiting around for the next steps was maddening. There had still been no word from Babajide Akingbade about his research. She was starting to lose faith that anything would come out of it. Most likely she was on her own just as she had been for most of her life.

Sitting around the cottage with nothing to occupy her mind other than her failures and fears was no way to pass the day. Deciding to go for a walk to clear her mind, she scribbled out a note to Antonin in the unlikely chance that he returned when she was out. She didn't want him to think that she'd run away again or that she was in trouble. All she needed was some fresh air and physical exertion.

It was encouraging to feel more like herself again. The effects of Rodolphus drugging her could no longer be felt. Following the terrible recovery she had, she knew that she couldn't allow herself to ever willingly imbibe another vial of that putrid, delicious concoction again. No amount of numbness was worth the side-effects. She had to also be careful not to put herself in a position where she could have it poured down her throat forcibly. Death was preferable to that wretched experience again.

The cold wintery air was bracing, but she didn't mind. It helped to remind her that she was still alive, still human. Only a few steps away from the cottage she heard the distinctive sound of footsteps behind her. While it was entirely likely that it was just an innocent Muggle staying in a nearby cottage, she couldn't afford to be too careful. Besides, crossing the path of the wrong Muggle could be just as dangerous as wizards. One didn't need magic to be deadly. That was a lesson she'd almost learned the hard way while she was on the run a couple of times. There were Muggles who might have even been worse than the worst of the Death Eaters.

With a firm grip on her wand still stashed in her pocket, Hermione spun around quickly to catch the person following her in the act. Immediately she sighed and rolled her eyes. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Draco managed to catch her alone again. Somehow he always seemed to know where she was and when she was by herself.

"What do you want, Draco?"

Once she thought his smirk was attractive. In that moment, however, it simply annoyed her that someone as handsome as Draco Malfoy could be devious and deceitful. Fairy tales often got it all wrong. The monsters weren't always grotesque and difficult to look at. Sometimes they were the most beautiful people in the entire story. An attractive monster was much more terrifying than an ugly one because humans were naturally conditioned to trust those they found to be good-looking.

"Can I not just be out for a stroll? Lovely weather, is it not?"

She rolled her eyes to prove that she didn't find him the least bit humorous. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage him to stay longer than required. But, she couldn't deny that having him suddenly appear when her mind was in such turmoil wasn't necessarily bad. There were some questions that she wanted to ask him even if the thought of conducting a conversation was loathsome.

"Would you care to explain your theatrics the other day? I don't believe for a second that anything you did was on accident. What was the purpose of telling Antonin about us? And being so vile and disgusting?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Though he was much calmer and seemingly less deranged than he was the day he practically attacked her in Rodolphus' guest bedroom and the day in Ginny's house, she knew better than to believe that all was well. He was like a snake sunning on a stone. While he might look like he was perfectly at ease, one false move and he would strike.

"I thought Dolohov deserved to know the truth about his wife."

"He already knew. He found out months ago. You simply angered him by being so foul about it."

His grey eyes narrowed at her announcement.

"What do you mean he already knew? We were careful."

"Not careful enough apparently. He suspected there was something between us when we were sharing the tent back in February. Apparently, Ginny told him that we were together."

"Nosy bitch."

Somehow she got the impression from the wizard that he wouldn't be sad to learn of Ginny's death. He was more likely to crack a smile than shed a tear. His disgust for the entire Weasley family had always been well-known. Perhaps he could pretend that his hatred was gone long enough to pretend to be allies, but she knew that some anger ran deep. Even if Rodolphus' disgusting statement about him having sex with Ginny was true, that didn't mean that he actually cared about her. No, Draco was playing his own game. That was the one truth that Hermione knew without question.

"He also placed a tracking spell on me one afternoon when I met you in London and then we went to your flat."

"Sounds like there's a great deal of trust in your marriage."

"My marriage is none of your business."

She felt like she was betraying Antonin any time his name came up when she was alone with Draco. That was a feeling that was likely to never go away. She'd shared some truly intimate moments with the fair-haired wizard that she wished she could take back. While they had certainly been a great deal of fun and a pleasant way to keep her mind distracted at times, she knew he was nothing but trouble.

"Were you lying to me the day you told me that you thought you might finally understand what it meant to love someone?"

He didn't appreciate being reminded of the day he'd shared such a personal statement while in bed. Unable to look her in the eye, he stared at the frozen ground instead. She wasn't deterred. If she was forced to be in his presence again, she was determined that she would at least use the time to her advantage.

"Why would you say something like that? To scare me away? To encourage me to throw myself at you again? I don't understand. You didn't mean it. What was your purpose?"

"What if I told you that that was one of the only real things I ever said to you?"

Brave enough to meet her eyes again, she could sense something strange in the man. He lacked some of the usual confidence that he carried. Either he was actually telling her the truth or he was doing a damned fine job of pretending he was. Despite her many years of experience ferreting out the truth from those she tortured for information, she struggled to properly read the wizard. Maybe she was too close to the situation to be impartial or objective. He'd been eliciting strong emotions out of her since they were eleven.

"I would say that I don't believe you, that you've spent too much time under the influence of your uncle."

"He's not really my uncle. Not since my aunt's death."

"Doesn't matter. He's always treated you like his nephew."

Mention of Rodolphus brought up the very real fear that he was about to betray her location to the horrible wizard. Was that why he was there in the first place? To figure out where she'd gone running? Rodolphus might have been an exceedingly patient man, but he had his limits. It was imperative to him that he complete whatever it was he'd been planning with Hermione. He might allow her to lull herself into a false sense of security for a little while. Eventually he'd strike back again.

The accusation of tracking her just to betray her hiding place again was on her tongue before she remembered that Antonin took back the pendant that he used to track her. It still hung around her neck. How was it possible that he was able to track her again? Did he find some other possession of hers that she'd left behind somewhere or had he stolen something without her realizing it? He was full of mysteries that she wasn't even sure she wanted to solve.

"How did you find me here? You don't have my necklace any longer."

Draco closed the distance between their bodies in a couple of strides of his long legs. Realizing that she'd somehow managed to back herself into a corner, Hermione worried about what was going to happen next. She would fight him, of course, but she didn't really want to bring attention to the area. Muggles were nearby. Even in the midst of turmoil within the government and the uncertainty of who was really in charge, the International Statute of Secrecy was still in force. If the British Ministry of Magic didn't enforce the law, there were plenty of International agents who would be called upon to clean up the mess. She didn't fancy spending any amount of time in one of the dreadful wizarding prisons on the continent waiting endlessly for trial simply because she couldn't keep control of the volatile situation.

"I can always find you when I need to, Hermione."

She could smell the sweet spiciness of his cologne. Likely costing more than the average family spent on food for an entire year or more, it was subtle enough to be distinctive with his own body chemistry and just noticeable enough to announce to the world that he had more money than he knew what to do with. There was a time in the not so distant past that she liked inhaling deeply against his skin to fill her senses with the familiar scent. He lifted the corner of one side of his mouth, more than aware of the effect he had on her in such close confines.

"But, it wasn't actually you I was tracking. I tracked your husband to this location late last night and returned this morning to wait for him to leave so I could have a private word with you."

"Why?"

"Maybe I just missed you and wanted to see your pretty face."

Rolling her eyes, she moved to step away from him. Just as quickly, he moved to intercept her. Close enough that they could touch if they only wanted to, she prepared herself for causing him physical harm if he tried. She'd made the decision that she wouldn't even entertain the idea of a man other than her husband taking liberties with her body again. She wouldn't allow it. A severing charm to the bollocks would be his reward.

"Just remember that I can find Dolohov whenever I wish."

He held up the wristwatch she'd given Antonin on his fiftieth birthday. How he'd managed to get his hands on that was a mystery, and one she knew that he wouldn't tell even if she asked. His smirk unnerved her just as much as his words. Was he threatening harm to her husband? Before she could ask him to clarify his intentions, Draco spun in place and Disapparated away. Hermione didn't linger outside a moment longer. The walk in the cold air had done exactly what it was supposed to.