Long after midnight, they were still alone. Oliver fell asleep in his parents" bed while his mother sat against the headboard considering her choices. Would they have any allies? Or just enemies? She was under no delusions that the Resistance would ever be willing to take her in again. Not even if she brought her son with her. They would never trust her again. And honestly, she couldn't blame them. The Hermione who fought for the Greater Good and for the Light side and for what was good and fair no longer lived. She died twenty years earlier in a dark, dusty broom cupboard. All that remained was a witch who wouldn't allow herself to be made a victim again. Even if she had to kill every single person who crossed her path, she would if it meant that she would get to safety.