A/N ~ Thank you so much to all of my amazing readers for the follows, favorites, and for those of you who take the time to leave a review. I am always appreciative and grateful. I always try to reply to each review left but for whatever reason when I attempted to respond to some of you I kept receiving an error message. So I wasn't able to send responses to everyone. To anyone who did not receive a response from me, please accept my sincere apologies. I hope they fix that little glitch. I really hope you all enjoy the update as I genuinely enjoyed writing this chapter. This story is my baby and I am thrilled you all are enjoying this as well. As always, I love hearing what you think :~)
A special thanks to my lovely and amazing Alpha / Beta team SandraSempra and AlexandraO. Love you both and as always thank you for your valued input and time.
For the lovely reader,
It's as you requested here are the Russian translations for this chapter. ;~)
Ya ozhidal etogo - I was expecting this
Sumasshedshiy izvrashcheniy sukin syn - crazy twisted son of a bitch
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Walking the streets of muggle London was a sort of reprieve for Hermione - it was cold, and the sun was hiding behind the thick sheets of grey winter clouds -but it was better than being in Diagon Alley at the moment. After her conversation with Harry only an hour prior, she needed an escape.
Finding herself walking in circles, she passed by the same red booth for a fourth time. Resisting the urge to walk around the park again, she stepped inside and dug out her muggle coins. She needed someone on her side, someone to understand she couldn't answer every question. But she needed someone fighting with her who wouldn't waver. She knew going up against Molly and anyone else she could rally on her side would be taxing - not to mention facing the scrutiny of the media. She would need someone.
Ron and Harry would be there for her, but Ron wouldn't always go against his mum, nor did she expect him to. As for Harry, the Weasleys were the family he never had. He wouldn't always go against them either. She knew they would still support her - they promised they would - but not always in the way she needed. There was, however, one person she could rely on. A person who would be there no matter what. She slid the coins into the machine and dialed the country code and phone number of her oldest and most trusted friend. The phone rang once, then twice, then a third time. Just before Hermione was about to give up and place the phone back in its cradle, a female voice answered. She thought she would break down right there.
"Hello?" A half awake, groggy voice answered.
"Rosalie, how are you?" Hermione's voice cracked. She always forgot about the time difference between them.
"Hermione! You sound upset, what's the matter? Is everything alright?"
She couldn't contain herself any longer; she broke down. "I'm not alright, Rosalie. I mean, I'm alright physically, but I really need someone right now. I don't quite know where to begin." Hermione's tears dripped from her cheeks as she held the phone to her ear, her eyes burned from tears she finally allowed to fall.
"Do I need to get you out of Britain? You know you always have a place to stay with me."
Choking a laugh, her hair unstuck from her tear stained cheeks as she wiped mindlessly at her eyes, sniffing back another snob. "I love you more than words could ever say for that, Rosalie, but," she took another deep breath. "But I can't leave. I'm not in danger; I'm just facing something I never imagined I'd have to. And I don't know if I can face this alone."
"You won't have to. I'm packing my things. I'll get a portkey from MACUSA, and I'll be there as soon as I can. Today. I'll floo straight to your place from the Ministry, okay?"
"It'll be on for you. Thank you, Rosalie. You have no idea how much this means to me."
"You would do the same for me, Hermione, I have no doubt. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"See you tonight." Hermione continued holding the phone to her ear as she heard the click indicating Rosalie had hung up.
She rested her head on the cradle of the phone, fluttering her lids closed and allowing more silent tears to escape her eyes before slowly hanging up. Hermione wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. She had a lunch date to prepare for and it wouldn't due to have bloodshot, puffy eyes. Shaking off the lingering dread, she made her way back to her flat to prepare lunch and get herself ready.
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Hermione stood at the window of Anna's Attic, watching Antonin work as he stood behind the cherry wood counter and rang a customer. Observing his movements, facial expressions and studying his body language, she watched the man she would one day soon call her husband. Looking at him, his appearance was attractive. Hermione's eyes had lingered over Antonin's features far longer than she wanted to admit, her eyes drifting to the way his dark hair was brushed back and curled slightly at the ends. She couldn't deny the attractive way his almost messy hair appeared, hanging just below the tip of his ears. His well-trimmed beard covered just enough of his handsome face but added a rugged affect to his features, and his mahogany eyes were deep and enticing.
Despite their past, Hermione wasn't blind. She could appreciate a handsome wizard when she saw one and Antonin Dolohov was undoubtedly a handsome wizard. As she watched him now, interacting with the customer, her thoughts wandered. To say she wasn't nervous about today would be an understatement. She was meant to talk marriage plans with this man when they had only just had their first encounter since the war. Her thoughts wandered still, already feeling vulnerable about the fact she would come to call this handsome stranger her lawfully wedded husband, but to playing the qactive role as such. She wondered how they would fair under the open, judging eyes of the media - not to mention the scrutiny and ridicule of their friends. Even though Harry and Ron would be there for her, they weren't marrying Death Eaters. It just wasn't quite the same.
Hermione caught sight of Antonin's gaze through the vintage lead glass window and quickly averted her eyes to the door as the heat flooded her face over being caught. She quickly turned, making her way through the entrance as the customer exited. Greeting Antonin, she gave him a tight smile and small wave.
"Hello."
"I was wondering if you were going to come in or if you were thinking of running." Antonin's eyes remained on the work in front of him; his busy hands working the register before he peered up to meet her gaze.
Placing the bag of lunch on the counter, she let out a slight chuckle. "Not running, just thinking."
Crossing his arms over his chest and slightly leaning back, Antonin took in her features. "You do that often; I suppose I should get used to it." He smiled at her, hoping it would help ease the tension.
Self consciously tucking her curls behind her ears, Hermione smiled tightly. "Yes, I suppose I do. Well, I hope you enjoy what I brought. I'm so sorry, I didn't think to ask what you liked last night. So I packed some bread, cheese, fruit and a good wine."
"This sounds perfect. Thank you for bringing lunch today." Antonin spoke as he took the bag from the counter and lead her into the room they had spent the prior evening. It was warm and cozy, even during the day. The heat emanating from the crackling fire added to the ambiance. Her eyes gravitated in the direction of the table where a large package was placed in the center of its surface. Her eyes widened, slight shock spread across her face, as Antonin set the bag of food on a chair. Hermione's attention never left the space where the package laid.
"Is this for me?" Hermione asked, pointing to the package with curiosity.
Bringing his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding his head to affirm, "I got you a little something. I know we're forced into this marriage, but my father taught me that a lady deserves to be enchanted." Raising his wand, he uttered something in a language Hermione didn't understand, but her focus was on the table. As he spoke, a glittering cloud of dazzling color, that seemed to change when seen from different angles, encompassed the entire package. The magic swirled and danced beautifully then slowly faded away, leaving a breathtaking bouquet of black tulips, soft yellow daisies, and lilacs.
Hermione couldn't help the bright smile that spread across her lips "Antonin, that was beautiful magic," Hermione gushed, stepping up to admire the unique arrangement. "I've never seen black tulips before! These are gorgeous," she was captivated by the unique and fragrant bouquet on display before her.
"Ah, but the spell is not finished. There's still one remaining step, and all it takes is a specific wave of your wand." Slowly stepping around the table, he hesitantly approached her. "The spell won't work for anyone else but you. Would you allow me to show you the wand movements?" Antonin gave a half bow, his hand extended as if waiting for Hermione's permission.
"Yes, I'm very curious," she told him, leveling her eyes to focus on his wand hand.
Raising his hand, Hermione watched as he gracefully moved his wand in an intricate and detailed pattern, listening to him as he recited the spell. She was mesmerized by his fluid motions, and for a second time that evening, she didn't recognize the language he used. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her head, curiosity got the better of her. "What language is that? I don't recognize it."
Looking down at his wand hand, Antonin's lips curled, gracing her with a lopsided grin. "I don't suspect you would. It's old Russian. Most Russians don't even practice it any longer. It's held sacred in the magical community though. Those of us who create and invent spells will always try to use the old language for the incantations. Are you ready to try it?"
Hermione nodded, raising her wand to attempt imitating his smooth, fluid movements. Apparently, she failed at getting the swirling motions right because nothing happened for her. So, Antonin showed her again. When she still didn't get it quite right, Antonin stepped closer, "Do you mind?" He stood directly behind her and reluctantly gestured at her wand hand.
Hesitantly she nodded, making a mental note to research old Russian for her own knowledge. She was anxious to learn a new spell in a language she didn't know about, even if the close proximity made her a little uneasy.
Stepping closer to her from behind, she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear. A shiver ran down her spine as his masculine hand gently cupped her wand hand, demonstrating the proper way to swirl her wand and again reciting the proper pronunciation.
"You see? Easy. It's all in the wrist." Smiling, he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze over her shoulder, not realizing how close they actually were as their faces were mere centimeters apart.
His eyes roamed her face as her breath hitched slightly - her stomach swirled with...what? Butterflies? No, surely not. The proximity and physical touch simply made her uneasy. Blinking and straightening her shoulders, she softly pulled away from his hand resting on hers.
"Thank you. I believe I'll get it this time."
Quickly dropping his hand and stepping back, he gave her space and watched. His lips were twitching slightly, attempting to suppress a smile at the unwavering look in her countenance.
Hermione squared her jaw, determined to get it right. She recited the incantation, careful to pronounce it just as he had taught her, and waved her wand in the same graceful motions. As she did, a soft glittering hue of iridescent, lavender and yellow swirled around the bouquet. Hermione bent closer, watching in awe as the flowers began to glow with an incandescent illumination, slowly transforming into something she couldn't quite make out danced with wonder as she slowly inched her way closer to the transforming bouquet, entranced by the whimsical glow of the magic. The incandescent light shone off her feminine features, almost sparkling off her curly brunette hair falling softly around her face. It was in that moment he was struck with the realization of her true beauty. She was breathtaking, and she was to be his.
Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful magic before her. What probably only took a minute or two seemed much longer as the magical glistening cloud faded away, leaving behind a stack of vintage books. Her eyes shone bright with curiosity as she picked up the small pile of books and met Antonine's gaze once more before reading the titles out loud.
"Black Tulips by Alexander Dumas, Daisy Miller by Henry James," Hermione observed. As she moved to the next title, she paused, smiling brightly as tears rimmed her warm hazel eyes. "Under the Lilacs by Louisa May Alcott. My mum used to read this to me when I was a little girl. It's one of my favorite stories. Louisa May Alcott is one of my favorite authors." Looking up at him she met his gaze and smiled as she moved to the final title. "Petals and Dreamscapes," Hermione said, furrowing her brows. She read the title in contemplation. "Andreevna Gorenko? I've never heard of this book or this author." Looking up again she met Antonin's smiling face once more.
Antonin couldn't hide the excitement on his countenance at the prospect of gifting her such a rare magical novel she had never read. "I suspect you wouldn't have. Andreevna Gorenko was a squib born to a Russian pureblood family. She eventually left the magical world, but not before she published her very first novel. She became a prominent poet and author in the muggle world. But her only magical piece is hard to find as it was only printed in Russia under her pureblood name. It's also quite different from the work she is known for in the muggle world where she wrote underneath the name Anna Akhmatova."
Hermione couldn't suppress her curiosity as she opened the leather book cover to the first page. "What's the story about?" Her eyes bored into his inquisitively.
"In this book, the protagonist uses rose petals along with rose thrones in her amortentia potion. The effects of which cause her to not only smell her true love, but also see him in her dreams."
"I think I'm going to enjoy this story very much. How did you find such a rare book?"
"It was part of my family's library. Now it's yours. I translated it into English for you."
Genuinely touched by the sentiment, Hermione traced her hand over the leather cover and raised her gaze to meet Antonin's once more.
"Thank you, Antonin. Truly, this was all so elaborate and thoughtful. The Magic alone was captivating and beautiful." Looking down at the book in her hand her smile faded as her thoughts drifted to the one question that had been at the forefront of her thoughts since the previous night.
Noticing her change in demeanor, Antonin crossed his arms. "Do you like the gift?"
"I need an answer to something, and only you can give it."
"Anything, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, what do you want to know?"
"You mentioned that you invented that enchanting spell I just witnessed. The Magic was so beautiful. Do you invent a lot of your own spells?"
"I do. Inventing spells has always been a passion of mine. Even as a young boy," he replied hesitantly as he crossed his arms anticipating her real question.
"Did you invent the curse you struck me with?"
His gaze lost its light as he paused before answering her question. He wasn't going to lie to her. "I did."
Closing her eyes to gather her thoughts before going further, she wanted to be rational but she needed to prepare herself for the worst. She opened her eyes and met his before continuing. "I need to know, what was I fighting? What was it created to do?"
Taking a deep breath and running his hand over his beard he eyed her. "Perhaps we should sit," he suggested, gesturing to the table. Hermione sighed, gathering her new books and set them down to the side before taking their seats across from one another.
Lacing his fingers and tapping his thumbs together, Antonin looked at Hermione and mumbled to himself "Ya znal, chto ozhidayu etogo." Meeting her warm gaze, he continued. "I'll answer your question, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, because you deserve that. The curse was designed to slow blood flow to the heart, essentially causing lack of oxygen to the brain and cardiac arrest." He paused to allow the information to sink in, his right leg bounced nervously under the table. He knew she could potentially walk out. He wouldn't stop her this time, but he didn't want her to go.
Hermione tightened her jaw and crossed her arms over her stomach as she focused her attention on the table and allowed the memories to replay like a movie in her head. She remembered looking into the eyes of a man she would fear for a long time. Then Hermione slowly slid her gaze to meet the same deep eyes sitting across from her. She didn't know what she expected, but perhaps not a curse truly meant to kill her. She sat and contemplated that for a moment before she spoke.
"You wanted me dead." She spoke with a hint of disbelief in her voice. "I was only a child, and you wanted to kill me."
Sitting back and hanging his head in a defeated manner he sighed and ran his hands down his face. Resting both hands on his lap, he met her stone cold gaze, clenching his jaw, he wouldn't allow her to put him on the defensive again. "Hermione, I already apologized to you last night for this. I will not continually go through this. I am sincerely sorry but you asked, and I will never attempt to hide the truth from you. I will always be honest. I was given direct orders, and I obeyed them. If I hadn't, it would have meant my life." He rested his back on the chair, trying to shift his focus - and hers - to the true reason for their meeting today. "Now, we only have a few short days before the public knows about this law and us. We need to move past this if we're ever going to be a believable couple to the Wizengamot, the press and the public. It's no easy feat, but that decision will ultimately be up to you."
Crossing his arms, he looked her square in the eyes and met her fiery gaze with equal fierceness. He would not allow her to continue punishing him for their past. He served his time, he went through the entire rehabilitation process, and he sincerely apologized to her. There was nothing more he could do. If she chose to walk away, it would be on her.
Hermione's gaze was locked on his without blinking. She was logical enough to know what he said was true. She would have enough to deal with when Molly was informed - let alone the public - but it was unfair of anyone to expect it of her. She moved her gaze to the stack of books on the table and her anger softened. The magic he had created for her was magnificent. He had apologized, and the gifts were the most ingenious and thoughtful gifts she could've ever imagined. He was right, as the muggles would say, this is a 'fork in the road' moment and the decision was entirely hers. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to search his face again. His jaw was still clenched, she could hear his leg shifting uneasily, but his eyes had lost all fire and now held an anxious anticipation.
"You're right, Antonin. I wanted to know, and I appreciate your honesty. We do need to move past this. I don't see where holding grudges or malice between us is going to be productive in our circumstances. I don't see a need to discuss the topic of our past interactions any further."
Antonin couldn't believe his ears. He anticipated she would storm out, to stubbornly refuse his explanation outright, but she remained - the strong woman she was. He let out the breath he had been holding as he nodded his head. "I'm glad we both can agree." Then leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, he gave her a lopsided grin. "You never answered my question."
Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion before she inquired "What question?"
Releasing a breathy laugh at her expression, he asked once more. "Do you like your gift?"
Realization hit her, and despite their previous topics regarding murderous spells, she laughed. "Yes, Antonin, it was very thoughtful, not to mention clever. I love books more than anything and I know I'm going to enjoy them all. Thank you."
Antonin couldn't help a swelling sense of pride at how his magic and his gifts had brought her such pleasure, and possibly a small step closer to mending the bridge between them. Taking a deep breath and rubbing his palms together, he reached for the bag of food. "I know we have a lot to discuss today; perhaps we should start lunch." Pulling out the bottle of wine and summoning two glasses, he poured each of them a glass of wine.
Hermione watched silently as Antonin set out the food, displaying it on the table for them to eat. Her mind still had questions regarding her future husband, and she was determined to know more about the man sitting before her. "I must admit, I was impressed by that beautiful display of magic. When did you first start becoming interested in inventing your own spells?"
At her question, Antonin's eyes danced with excitement, "I had access to my family library at a very young age. With my mother's influence and always encouraging me to read, I would spend hours upon hours in our library as a boy. As you know my father is pureblood and his family can be traced back to five original Magical families of ancient Russia. Each magical culture is rich in its own history. My families library would rival that of the Blacks, Lestranges or Malfoys. I found that I enjoyed reading works written by Mages as they journaled the process of creating and perfecting a spell. That's how I became interested in inventing new ones. But the ancient Russian content is somewhat different than that of ancient Europe."
Hermione listened as she studied his features, the light in his eyes displayed how genuinely passionate he was about this topic. "Different? How so?"
Taking a bite of bread Antonin contemplated on how to continue. He hoped she would understand. "Ancient Russian magical culture is steeped in the dark arts. So that was a majority of my family library."
"The dark arts? You studied the dark arts as a child?" Hermione's brows shot up, surprise evident on her face.
"You need to understand, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, that dark magic is ingrained in ancient magical Russian culture. A majority of the spells invented and created by these magical theorists were not all meant to be used in the ways of evil. It's true, some have been known to be, but not all. Many were brilliant wizards and witches who wanted to use the magic they grew up knowing to help people. When I was growing up, we didn't know the difference between light and dark magic like it is known here in Europe. We just knew intent. If a wizard or witch had any ill intent, they would use their magic for darker purposes. The same magic can be tapped into and used for good."
Sitting back and nibbling on her lower lip, she tilted her head, contemplating his logic and rolling the new information in her head before responding. "While I can see your point, I don't know if I agree with it completely."
"What part of it don't you agree with?" Antonin quirked a brow, genuinely curious to hear her own thoughts on the matter.
"Are you aware of exactly what it took; what we had to do to defeat Voldemort?"
Cringing slightly at the name, Antonin had to admit he had never taken the time to genuinely think of it. "No, I can't say I ever really took it into consideration."
"He made seven horcruxes. We had to hunt and destroy each and every one before we could attempt to kill him once and for all. The dark magic surrounding them were so vile, they had an effect on anyone who was even near them. Harry and I had to take turns wearing one for months before we found a way to destroy it. That was evil magic at its very root. No possible good intent can be argued for a horcrux."
Antonin's eyes went wide, shock stretching across his face. "Seven horcruxes?" Breathing out a breath of disbelief, he slouched in his chair. "Sumasshedshiy izvrashcheniy sukin syn." He mumbled as he rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. He peered over at Hermione with raised eyebrows, "That actually explains quite a lot."
"You don't even want to know the heinous magic he used to bring himself back. So while I understand your argument, from experience, I don't quite know if I can agree with it."
"Remember, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa; I did acknowledge that some spells and curses were invented with evil ambition, but that goes back to the creator themselves and how they choose to use there magic. All dark magic created goes back to the creating witches or wizards original intent. If another's objective is the same, they will seek out and use those darker curses."
Smirking, Hermione took a sip of her wine before setting the cup back on the table, slowly nodding her head as she took in his complete argument. "Alright, I'll concede. I can agree with that logic."
Feeling victorious Antonin smiled brightly, and straightened his back with an inclined chin. Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little at his expression.
They were interrupted by a patronus in the form of a stag. "Hermione, Molly knows, and she's on her way to Antonin's shop now. As expected, she is not happy. Ron and I are right behind her."
Hermione and Antonin both sat shocked as their gazes met. There was a twisting knot that developed in the pit of Hermione's stomach as Antonin stood at the sound of the entrance door jingling. Expecting she would need a moment to gather herself, he squeezed her shoulder as he walked to the front of the store.
"Hello, is there anything I can help you with?" Antonin asked politely, attempting to stall the inevitable.
"Where is she? I suspect she's here? Hermione don't you dare hide from me!" The familiar female voice yelled.
Hide? The nerve of this woman. Hermione Jean Granger does not cower or hide from anyone. Her nostrils flared, and she rose to her feet. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly walked to the front of the shop.
"You know me better than to suspect I would ever hide, Molly," Hermione said, crossing her arms as she stood beside Antonin behind the counter.
Breathing in short heavy breaths, Molly's hair was almost electric with magic as her eyes shifted from Antonin to Hermione, eyeing the two before her who stood side by side with similar stances and blank expressions.
"So it's true? I had to find out through somebody else? You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself?" Molly's tone spat with disgust.
"Don't be ridiculous, Molly, I was planning on visiting with you tomorrow morning to let you know. That's why Harry and I requested morning tea with you. I don't know how you found out because only a handful of people know, but as you should be aware, we only just found out ourselves two short days ago. It's not as though I've been keeping a secret from you for months, sneaking behind your back. So don't you dare throw that accusation at me."
"How could you? I took you in as my own daughter. Especially after the loss of your family, I took pity on you and welcomed you into my home. Even through our disagreement over the implementation of the rehabilitation program. I still never turned you away. But this?" She gestured angrily between Antonin and Hermione. "This, I can not look past."
Looking to Antonin, her gaze filled with malice and her eyes with tears as she pointed her finger at him. "And you. You should still be rotting in Azkaban for what you did. You took away the only family I had left. Other than my husband and children, my brothers were all I had." Her voice cracked with evident pain. "But what do you care? You're nothing but a cold, heartless, ruthless son of a bitch. You should be dead instead of them." Tears of anger, pain and grief trickled down her cheeks, her breath sporadic as her chest rose and fell.
Hermione was frozen where she stood, emotions battling for dominance inside her chest, causing her heart to race and her blood to boil. She knew Molly was in pain, knew the elder witch ached for the revenge of her brother's murders, but to throw the loss of Hermione's own parents in her face had her balling her hands into fists at her sides. To think her kindness was not out of an act of love, but for pity of all things had her questioning the Weasley Monarch's true character. She could excuse a reaction triggered by loss, she'd done so herself, but she never suspected Molly to stoop so low. Apparently nothing was off limits when Molly was out for blood.
Before she could respond, the door burst open and Harry and Ron rushed in. Feeling the tension thick as a London fog, they immediately stopped in their tracks to take in the scene before them. They were relieved to see no one had pulled their wands, but Ron went right to his mother when he saw her tears. Harry walked to the other side of the counter to stand next to Hermione.
That's when Hermione spoke again, "Molly, you know as well as I do that none of us have a choice in the matter."
"Bollocks! If I were you I'd gladly take Azkaban."
"Molly,you know you don't mean that. Hermione doesn't deserve to go to Azkaban over this. And deep down I know you wouldn't want her to," Harry said, attempting to ease the tension.
Looking at Harry, hurt crossing her face, she said, "So that's how it's going to be? You're choosing Hermione over me?"
Opening his hands, Harry gave a gesture of surrender, "Molly, there are no sides. We are all in this together. We are all subject to this law. We have to stick together to get through it. There aren't any sides to take. You know I love you, Molly, you're like a mum to Hermione and me. Please don't let this law ruin what we all have together." Harry pleaded.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't look past this." Turning to Hermione, Molly's stone cold glare bore right into her soul. "As long as you decide to go through with this and become the wife of the man responsible for the torture and murder of my brothers, I'm sorry, but I can no longer welcome you into my home." Turning to Harry, her gaze softened slightly. "Harry, you're still welcome of course, unless you choose to take Hermione's side and support her in this."
"Mum, you don't mean that," Ron interjected in disbelief. "We all agreed to support one another, myself included. We all promised Kingsley. You can not make this about sides. This is us against the Wizengamot, not us against each other."
"I've said all I came to say. I'll expect you for dinner, Ronald." With that, she turned and stormed out of the shop.
After a moment to process the events of the last five minutes, Hermione slowly turned to Harry and Ron. "What the bloody hell happened? How did she find out? Harry, we were supposed to tell her calmly over tea tomorrow morning. How did this…?" She trailed off shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione. It was my fault," Ron said in a defeated tone, running a hand over his face, "I was talking to Ginny in the sitting room and I thought mum was still out. Ginny asked me who it was you were matched with and I told her. Had I known she was even in the house, I wouldn't have risked saying anything at all. I'm so sorry."
As frustrated as she was with Ron, she couldn't blame him for this. She should have known Ginny would want to know. She had been so consumed with everything she didn't think to speak to the witch herself. "It's ok, Ron; this was bound to happen. Regardless of how she found out, this would have been her reaction. We all knew it was coming."
Turning to Antonin, who still had his arms crossed, Hermione saw his hands were balled into tight fists and fire danced in his darkened eyes. He hadn't spoken a word to Molly through her rant, and now Hermione could tell it was because he knew he was too angry to say anything at all. Resting a gentle hand on his arm, Hermione turned back to Harry and Ron.
"Thanks for the warning, Harry, but you two should go and maybe try to talk some sense into Molly. Perhaps get Kingsley to help. She seems to listen to him."
Nodding in agreement, they both turned to go. At the door Ron turned to address Hermione one last time, "I don't agree with her, Hermione, I want you to know that. But she's my mum. In public, for the cameras and as friends, I'm still keeping my promise to support you and Harry both. We have to remain a united front for each other and Kingsley."
"I know, Ron, I understand. She's coming from a place of pain. She's angry and doesn't mean what she says," Hermione told him, even though Hermione knew Molly had meant every word.
With that, they walked out leaving the two alone once more. Hermione slowly turned to Antonin who's gaze fell on her. Taking his hands in hers, forcing him to uncross his arms and unclench his fists. She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.
"No one talks to you that way, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa."
Hermione was sure her jaw dropped before she quickly regained her composure. She was sure his anger was due to the way Molly spoke to him and what she accused him of. She would never have suspected his anger was in defense of her. Then that feeling she had earlier came flooding back - surely it wasn't butterflies. Pushing it aside she let go of his hands and took a deep breath.
"I'm so sorry she said those awful things, Antonin. I'm sorry this had to happen in front of you. I've been expecting it, especially since my conversation with Harry this morning." Dropping her face in her hands, she grunted in frustration before regaining her composure.
"Would you mind terribly if we called it early and met again tomorrow? I think I need to go home and just clear my head after all that." Hermione wasn't ready for him to see how Molly's words about her parents had affected her. She wasn't ready to tell him that story yet.
Furrowing his brows in concern, he nodded his head. "Of course, moya malen'kaya l'vitsa, tomorrow is fine. Where would you like to meet? Here again?"
"Actually, how about we meet at my place for dinner? My friend Rosalie will be staying with me for awhile, but she won't be a bother. You won't even know she's there. Would you mind?"
"Of course, just let me know the address and time, I'll be there. But before you go, don't forget your books."
A small smile graced Hermione's face at the mention of her gift. Following him back to the table she gathered her things then walked back to the front of the shop to retrieve her coat. "Sorry again about all that. But I suppose now we know what we will be facing when all the news breaks."
Gently taking her hand and meeting her gaze, Antonin spoke softly. "Listen, Hermione, we both agreed to go through this together and attempt to make this work between us as much as we can hope. I'll see it through with you every step of the way."
Shocked by his words, she nodded her head. "Thank you, Antonin." With that, she turned and stepped towards the door. All she wanted to do was get home and wait for Rosalie.
The walk back was quick; she didn't want to linger away from home any longer than necessary. She walked in the door of her flat and heard rustling in the spare room - then a voice.
"Hermione, are you home already?" Rosalie stepped out of the room, her long dark hair was wet, and she was wearing navy and cranberry flannel pajama bottoms with a navy camisole. Waving her wand over her head, Rosalie dried her hair quickly and rushed to greet her friend.
"Rosalie! I couldn't be happier to see anyone else in the world right now. How did you get here so quickly?" Hermione dropped her bag, and both friends embraced.
"I called in a few favors at MACUSA to speed up the portkey process. I'm here for as long as you need me. There's no return date set." Stepping back from the embrace, both girls smiled and hugged again before making their way to the sitting room.
"I took the liberty of picking up dinner. Hope you don't mind no-maj pizza. I picked it up on my way out of the country. I put a stasis on it and packed it in my bags, but it's my favorite pizza place. You sounded like you needed some good comfort food and some equally amazing alcohol this morning when you called. So I brought both." She smiled as she pulled out a bottle of her signature beverage, Witches Delight.
Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Oh, Rosalie, that sounds perfect! I think we're going to need this. We have quite a lot to catch up on." Hermione made her way to the bedroom to retrieve her letter from the Ministry as Rosalie set out the pizza and poured two glasses of Witches Delight for them both.
"I'm going to change, and I'll be right back. But for starters, you should read this." Handing Rosalie the letter, she walked back into her room. She waited for her friend's reaction as she slipped into her own pajamas. From the front of her flat, she finally heard it.
"What the HELL!" Rosalie roared.