Chapter Four

Friday morning dawned far too early for Hermione's liking. After she saw her horrible houseguest off to bed, she polished off the rest of the bottle of fire whiskey before climbing into her own bed only to toss and turn most of the night. There were no easy answers to any of her myriad of questions, no simple solutions to any of her problems. What was she going to do about the wizard in the next room? She pulled her blankets over her head. Maybe she could delay her reentry into reality for just a little while longer.

A loud crash from her kitchen ruined all hope for a lie-in. Worried about what she might find on the other side of her flat, Hermione ran as quickly as she could to investigate with her wand held high. Immediately she wanted to send a painful stinging hex straight to the obnoxious wizard's arse making an absolute disaster out of what was usually a tidy and orderly home.

"What is wrong with you? It's half past six in the morning. There are people still sleeping in this building."

Igor Karkaroff spun around at the sound of her shrill voice to narrow his eyes in annoyance. No doubt he wouldn't be opposed to casting a painful stinging hex to her arse either. How dare he act as if she was the one causing all of the tension and commotion in her home? She was feeling less and less responsible for his welfare by the minute. One more snarky expression on his face and she was banishing him without her ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"I was trying to find something, anything that would be suitable nourishment in this horrible flat. Do you ever eat, madam? Or are you one of those creatures that believe all you need for survival is air and the occasional glass of water?"

It was far too early to listen to his voice. Though she made a promise to herself that she would never again cast a memory charm on someone after what she was forced to do to her parents years earlier, Hermione thought she might be willing to make an exception for his sake. If she stripped Karkaroff of all of his memories and left him naked in front of St. Mungo's where he could easily be found, she would have a clear conscience, wouldn't she?

"I haven't had time to go to the market."

She didn't know why she was offering him any kind of explanation. It was her home after all. Why did he have to know why her cupboards were practically bare? He wouldn't be staying long enough to matter. The first chance she had to get rid of him, she would.

"There should be some granola bars in the…"

"Granola bars? Oh, I have fallen far, haven't I? Cast out of paradise naked and hungry to be clothed in rags and fed granola bars."

Hermione closed her eyes and released a deep exhale. His dramatics were already growing tiresome. How had no one lost their patience and murdered him long before Fenrir Greyback tracked him to that shed? Was there an argument over who would be the lucky one who got to murder him? She bet there had been a lot of volunteers.

"I imagine there is quite a spread being served at Azkaban this morning. Should I owl the Auror Office and inform them that I have a former Death Eater loose in my flat?"

Karkaroff didn't care for her attempt at making a joke. Or was she? Could she get him arrested? It did seem rather cruel to take a man, even one as infuriating as him, out of what he continually referred to as 'paradise' just to have him thrown inside the notorious wizard prison. Of course, conditions had been improved a great deal ever since Kingsley became Minister for Magic after the war ended. Maybe he would even appreciate some of them.

"If you think for a moment that I would go quietly off to prison, madam, you are mistaken. I will tell anyone who will listen that you committed the grave crime of necromancy to fulfill some sort of sick and twisted fantasy you've had about me ever since you first met me as the Durmstrang Headmaster. Perhaps you would end up in the cell next to mine. But if not, at least then I could rest comfortably knowing your reputation was thoroughly ruined."

She knew he would do it too. Somehow she knew that he would take her down with him if she tried something so devious. It was disappointing to know that she no longer had that option to dispose of him. Oh well. She was clever. It shouldn't take her much longer to figure out a better plan.

"No one would believe that. Do you remember what you looked like at that age?"

Karkaroff's eyes narrowed. Clearly he wasn't the sort to just let her get away with making a comment against his appearance, even if he couldn't deny that his years as a Death Eater and immediately following the first war hadn't exactly been kind to him. He might have had a great deal of confidence parading around Hogwarts in his sleek, silver furs, but he was hardly the heartthrob he wanted to claim he was.

"I'll have you know that many witches found me irresistible up until the very end of my life. Certainly some of the Hogwarts professors didn't mind inviting me into their private quarters to have a nightcap and some conversation."

Her first urge was to immediately demand he tell her which professors, but she stopped herself. Not only was it none of her business how the witches who used to teach her chose to spend their personal time after hours, she really didn't want to allow her mind to travel to frightening places. Damn her curiosity.

"Yes, well, I'm not sure I would take too much of that to heart. They were lonely women trapped in a castle for months on end with children. Couldn't have been easy for them to meet men otherwise."

"I can assure you, madam, that none of those professors settled for a night with Igor Karkaroff. They were enthusiastic and excited. Even Minerva once…"

"Stop! I don't want to hear anymore."

Reconciling her teachers with their human sides was too much to contemplate even as a thirty year old woman. She didn't want to have flashes of inappropriate thoughts of her Transfiguration professor, a woman she respected immensely, and the cretin forced to inhabit her flat. Surely he wasn't serious. Professor McGonagall had more self-respect that that, right? Hermione shook her head to dislodge those upsetting thoughts.

"I'm afraid you will have to just make do with the granola bars for now. I'll stop by the market after I leave the Ministry."

"Why even bother? Just let me waste away to nothing. I'll be happier that way."

No longer able to handle another moment in his company, Hermione rushed out of the kitchen. If she stayed any longer, she feared she might actually end up in Azkaban herself for committing a gruesome, yet satisfying, homicide. Few people in her acquaintance had ever made her want to commit murder. Karkaroff was firmly at the top of that list. He didn't even understand how much potential danger he could be in if he didn't stop his constant whinging.

There was no reason to put off getting dressed and ready for work. She sped through her normal routine, desperate to escape from her flat even for just a few hours. Knowing Karkaroff was just in the next room did nothing for her nerves. She remained in a constant state of anxiety with him near enough that he could just pop into the same room she was at any moment. Putting some distance between them would help clear her head enough to make some difficult decisions, she was certain of it.

The wizard stood in the window of her kitchen staring out at the streets below when she stepped back out of her bedroom fully dressed in her robes for the Ministry. An aura of sadness and abject despair surrounded him. On most people she might have felt a twinge of sympathy for their dark moods. She was known to experience them from time to time herself. With Karkaroff, however, she didn't care. Let him wallow and pity himself all he wanted. She didn't have the time or energy to listen.

"It's raining outside."

"It's London. It rains a lot."

"It never rained in paradise."

His heavy, dejected sigh was too much. Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached for the doorknob on the front door. Before she opened it, she turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"Stay inside the flat, Karkaroff. Don't leave for any reason. It's not safe for you out there."

When he didn't even look up from the window to respond, she had to assume that he was agreeing. Giving in to the childish urge to roll her eyes again, she hoped she wasn't picking up any bad habits being stuck around the overgrown, dead, spoiled brat. She was glad to step out into the corridor of her building seconds later.

"Good morning, Hermione."

So relieved to have a breath of air that hadn't been tainted by the presence of her greatest mistake, Hermione didn't even notice her neighbor from across the corridor was exiting his flat at the same time. Usually one to sleep in for as long as possible, Pavel Poliakoff, affectionately known as Pasha by all of his friends, didn't care much for mornings.

"Good morning, Pasha. You're up early."

"Yes. Too early. I heard loud crash coming from your flat."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I knocked some pans out of the cupboard when I was making breakfast. I hope I didn't wake you."

"You made breakfast?"

The Russian wizard was perhaps one of the kindest people Hermione had ever met in her life, even if he could be a bit awkward at times. She was sure he didn't mean to make his question sound like an accusation. Concerned he might read too much into what happened, she laughed.

"All right, Pasha. I was getting a granola bar out of the cupboard for breakfast and I knocked some pans out."

He smiled.

"Now that sounds more like truth. You should come to Russia with me. My mama would show you what real breakfast is. She would make you fat. I used to dream about her syrniki when I was at Durmstrang."

Hermione's stomach sank. There was a huge complication just across the corridor that she hadn't considered until right that second. Pasha knew Karkaroff. Yes, maybe he was in a body of a much younger version of himself, but he still knew him. Pasha had been one of Karkaroff's students he brought with him to the Triwizard Tournament. One of his least favorite students according to Pasha. A handful of times over the years after he moved into the building they'd discussed his former Headmaster. Would he instantly know who the wizard was in her flat if he had the misfortune of seeing him? She thought she was going to be sick.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"No need to be sorry. I'm needed at Embassy early this morning. You saved me from getting into trouble again for being late."

His smile and wink helped ease some of her stress. At least he was on his way out of the building for the time being. Maybe if she was lucky he would be recalled back to Russia on some important task. As a low-level diplomat in the Russian Ministry of Magic's London office, he was used to being forced to travel between the two countries a great deal, especially when his supervisor didn't want to face the harsh Russian winter. Was it wrong to hope for a small international crisis that would get him out of the building for a few weeks?

Together they walked down the corridor and out the front door. She looked at George's front door on the way out, hoping it wouldn't open. He would be another potential complication. As close as they had become over the years, it wasn't unusual for the two of them to move in and out of the other's flats constantly. George even had a key to hers just as she had one to his. She loved her two neighbors fiercely, but she wished that in the midst of the current crisis she was in that she lived in a building where no one ever spoke to each other or even knew their neighbors' names.

At the end of the narrow alley, the two neighbors parted ways. Hermione was glad to be alone for the too-short walk to the Apparition point. Her mind wouldn't cease racing. What was her next step? Should she try to hide what she did on accident or just face the consequences and come clean? Having a close friendship with the Minister for Magic and being an integral part of defeating Lord Voldemort and ending the last wizarding war still counted for something, right? She could use some of the influence and goodwill she'd accumulated for herself over time to protect her own arse. Besides, she didn't mean to practice necromancy. There had to be some sort of caveat, some kind of loophole in the laws that would allow for accidental resurrections to be excused.

It was thankfully another busy day at the Ministry. There were fewer new cases of dragon pox to worry about, but with less coworkers in the office, Hermione had more work. She was glad to have something to keep her mind occupied. Otherwise she would've wasted all day worrying about what she left behind in her flat. Her work already suffered enough being dragged away from her desk for most of an entire day the day before. If she was ever asked to inspect another shop in Knockturn Alley again, she would just quit her job right there on the spot. Completing her report took up her morning. One more shop inspection and she would fall too far behind in her work to catch up without losing a weekend or two.

By mid-afternoon, her mind started to wander. Even her latest proposal of which pro-Pureblood law she wanted to have abolished couldn't keep her full attention. Not when she worried every second that an auror was going to come barging into her office to demand an explanation why Igor Karkaroff had been found alive and in her flat. Logically, she knew she was just being ridiculous in her paranoia. Karkaroff knew that he was in danger. There were plenty of people who would want him dead again if they knew he was alive. It was in his best interest to stay hidden inside of her flat until they had a more solid plan of what to do next.

A knock on the doorframe of her office tore her out of her thoughts. She looked up expecting to see her supervisor with another ridiculously unnecessary task to complete. When she saw the smiling face of George Weasley instead, she was pleasantly surprised. With a smile on her own face she stood up from her desk and gestured to the empty chair on the other side for him to sit. He didn't hesitate.

"This is a surprise. What brings you to the Ministry?"

"Top-secret task, I'm afraid." George's cheeky wink made her smile. "Can't talk about it. Just some development I'm working on with a couple of our Unspeakables downstairs in the Department of Mysteries. I'm not at liberty to talk about it, of course."

She wasn't surprised to hear that he was working with the Unspeakables. George was brilliant, just like his twin brother had been too. If the two of them would've buckled down and taken school as seriously as she and their older brother Percy did, they would've had more than enough OWLs and NEWTs to make their mother proud. They also could've had any position in the Ministry of Magic that they wanted if they'd been so inclined. Bureaucratic work didn't suit either of them though. It wasn't for everyone.

"I'm glad to know that you're expanding your more serious products."

"'Fraid I can't confirm or deny that's what I'm working on. Could end up in some trouble if I let just anyone know about my work."

For months George had been vague every time she asked him about the new products he was working on. When it wasn't for the Ministry, he would gladly explain in great detail the new joke products he had or even invite her into the shop to see them first-hand. He never failed to impress her with his innovation and creativity. Oddly, as it might have seemed out of character for his younger self, he never liked to brag about what he was up to or how successful she knew he actually was. The simple flat at the end of the corridor hardly put a dent in his monthly income. She knew that if he wanted, he could be living somewhere in the country in a massive manor home filled with all of the finer things he missed out on when he was growing up. Why he chose to stay in his flat was a mystery she hadn't solved yet.

"I can't tell you what I've been working on, but I suppose it can't hurt to tell you that it's going very well and I have reason to celebrate."

"That's wonderful, George! I'm proud of you."

"Proud enough to come out tonight to celebrate with me? It's been a long time since we had a proper night out. We've both been working too much. You, my dear, have been a terrible influence on me."

"Oh, yes, just terrible encouraging you to work hard. How will I ever forgive myself?"

"You never answered my question."

Part of her kind of hoped that he would just not notice she hadn't agreed to go out with him. Any other night under any ordinary circumstances, she would've jumped at the chance to celebrate his success with him. Knowing there was an arsehole Russian wizard who was supposed to be dead moping about her flat made going out that night impossible. Until she was rid of that burden, she couldn't be carefree.

"I'm so sorry, George. I would've loved to go out with everyone…"

"Well, I was sort of hoping it would be just the two of us…"

"…but I was looking forward to a night in and going to bed early. It's been a nightmare of a week and I just want to go to sleep."

The smile he offered her was forced. She'd known him long enough to know when he was disappointed.

"I understand. Maybe we can do it some other night."

"I would like that."

Hermione offered him as genuine a smile as she had. Of course she enjoyed spending the evening with George, especially when they were in a large group of all their old friends from Hogwarts and a random selection of his siblings. No one could ever be bored when he was around. He stood up from his chair.

"I've taken up enough of your time. Have a wonderful night. Enjoy going to bed early."

His next smile was a little less forced, but she knew he was still disappointed. Some days George could be very lonely. She never understood why he wasn't dating anyone. He was a catch. When he exited her office she wished Karkaroff wasn't a problem. She could use a frivolous night of drinking and relaxation. The sooner she could solve the 'Karkaroff Conundrum', the better off her life would be.

The very moment the clock struck five, Hermione didn't waste another second sitting behind her desk. It was unlike her to run out of the Ministry at such an early hour, but she couldn't stand leaving Karkaroff alone for another minute. All manner of horrors could likely be found waiting for her if she lingered an extra half hour. It was bad enough that he had been a constant presence in her thoughts since she woke up that morning from her fitful sleep. She had to see with her own eyes that he hadn't burned her building down in a tantrum.

Unfortunately, everyone else in the Ministry of Magic was anxious to leave for home at 5 on a Friday too. The queue to exit the building took far too long. Hermione knew she was frustrating those around her with her tapping foot and frequent sighs, but she didn't care. If they knew why she was so anxious, they would've been kind enough to let her go ahead of them.

She relaxed only slightly when she entered the front door of her building a few minutes later and didn't smell smoke. There was still a lot that could have been done without actually bringing fire into the mix. Ignoring the guilt that settled deep in her stomach when she passed by the closed door to George's flat, she rushed down the corridor. Her hands shook with nerves as she unlocked her front door. What awful scene would she find inside?

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. At least not in the lounge. It even looked… was it cleaner? She didn't think that was possible. Surely the spoiled wizard wouldn't have spent part of his day actually cleaning. A smell she couldn't quite define wafted out of her kitchen. Surprised, she stood outside the door to listen to the sounds of domesticity within. Was… was someone cooking in her kitchen?

Fearing the worst, Hermione pushed open the kitchen door with her wand outstretched for the second time that day. Igor Karkaroff stood at her stove actually preparing a meal… a meal that made her stomach grumble with anticipation. How was that possible? She hadn't been joking when she informed him all she had were granola bars. Where did he get the necessary food to cook?

Hearing her enter, the wizard turned around from stirring whatever he was stirring. No longer dressed in her ex-boyfriend's clothes, he wore actual wizard clothing that she'd never seen before. He held a spoon in one hand, but in the other was the unmistakable shape of a wand.

"I told you to stay in the flat today, Karkaroff. Where did all of this come from?"