A/N: Early post! (I mean, it's a day, but still!) This chapter is going to deal with a canon character death. It's not explicit, but it's there. Also, thanks go out to Devon A. Snow for continuing to be my beta extraordinaire. On with the show!

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Hermione slowly drifted into consciousness as she heard talking nearby. Opening her eyes, she sought out the source of the noise. Off to her right, she saw Dolohov and Lestrange sitting next to each other having a conversation. She gingerly sat up and the men's eyes flew to her.

"Granger, how are you feeling?"

Feeling a panic set in as she looked at the men she had been spying on earlier, she quickly tried to make an escape.

"I'm fine, Lestrange. I take it that this is your home? It's lovely. I adore the library. Thank you for your hospitality. I'll just be going now."

So much for talking, she thought. Standing up, she went to bend over to reach for her purse and a wave of dizziness overtook her. She brought a hand up to her head and the other to the arm of the couch to steady her.

"Sit down, Меgeara. You'll hurt yourself."

With a glare, she sat down to avoid embarrassing herself further by falling over. She hated being treated like a child.

"Fuck off, Dolohov. It's not like you care...and stop calling me that...this isn't Verona and I'll not be tamed."

If the situation weren't so dire, she probably would have laughed at the look of shock on Dolohov's face. As it was, Lestrange had no such qualms and began chuckling.

"Well, color me surprised, Granger. When did you find the time to learn Russian?"

"You can fuck off too, Lestrange. I don't have to explain myself to you...or anyone for that matter. Thank you for saving me, healing me, whatever the hell happened. Now that we've had our touching moment and I've thanked you, I'm leaving."

She stood up and began to head towards the fireplace and the pot of floo powder she saw on the mantle. Just as she went to pass Antonin, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Syad."

Whipping her hand out of his arm, Hermione brought it up and poked him in the chest.

"Who exactly do you think you're talking to, Dolohov? I'm not a dog and I'll not be spoken to like one. Tell me to sit down again and I'll show you exactly why people are still afraid of me."

She whirled around to face Lestrange, "and you! Stop your incessant chuckling or I'll silence you...your friend knows I'm a dab hand at it."

She turned back to Dolohov only to find him standing up right in front of her. Hermione knew that she had possibly crossed a line with her attitude, but she couldn't stop herself. She was tired, cranky, and in pain. She'd always been an unpleasant person, but it was magnified when she wasn't feeling well. She knew better than to let her emotions get the better of her.

"Listen, Dolohov, I apologize…"

"Syad i slushay. Now."

His tone brooked no argument. She immediately sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

"You almost killed yourself today. Now, that may not sound like the worst thing in the world to you...which is another conversation we'll be having...but it would have been quite upsetting for a lot of people. Something is clearly wrong. Not only with your emotions, but with your magic too. I've only ever experienced a magical discharge like that a few times in my life. Each one has been from a person who's been infected by dark magic...either purposely or due to a nasty run in with another person. I don't know which applies, but I'm willing to bet it has more to do with your stay at Malfoy Manor than anything."

Knowing better than to talk just yet and being far too invested in what he was saying, Hermione attempted to get her confusion across nonverbally. Luckily, Dolohov was perceptive.

"Think of it like this: If you drink milk every time you have a fever, the body begins to associate milk with illness and an allergy can develop. Dark magic residue, such as comes from the Cruciatus or exposure to cursed objects, can become something that the body recognizes as a typical by product of anger and stress. The welling up of the residue is like anaphylaxis. You get angry, stressed, depressed, whatever, and suddenly, the dark magic is suffocating you. I'd be willing to bet that every time you feel yourself getting pulled under by the depression and loneliness, your magic reaches out for help. It did with me, and apparently it did with Rab at the Manor."

Bringing a hand to her mouth, she felt tears begin to fall from her eyes. Was this all because of the War? Were the depression, anger, and anxiety all due to her prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus? Was it because of that hateful scar on her arm? Had Bellatrix really done that much damage to her? While trying to process everything Dolohov had just said, she looked at Rabastan. He was sitting on the floor next to the settee. She had no idea when he had moved from the couch to the floor, but a small part of her was glad he was nearby. She had no idea that her magic had called out to him at the Manor. She had been slightly preoccupied at the time. It was interesting that her magic chose Rabastan to ask for help...Draco had been nearby, as had Narcissa...why choose someone she didn't even know?

"I didn't know. At the Manor...I didn't know it called out for you. I didn't even know you were there. All I knew was that I had to protect Harry and I couldn't tell her about the Horcruxes and that I wouldn't let her break my mind. It was all I was focused on. I barely felt the pain after the first few rounds because I was so focused on not breaking. Even if she had killed me, I was determined that she wouldn't get any information out of me before I took my last breath."

Rabastan slid over to her and leaned his head against her knee. He couldn't face her for the first time since she arrived. She was everything that he wished he could have been. If only he could have stood up to his brother and sister-in-law...if only he could have saved her on that day...if only.

"I was visiting Draco when you were brought in. Draco was called down to identify the three of you and I followed him down. I was close to the door. I felt sick watching her brutalize you like that...and yet, I was and still am in awe of you. I've seen people older and with more experience shatter under the onslaught of her Cruciatus. When that house elf popped in to rescue you, I was so relieved because I didn't know if I would have been able to stand back and do nothing for much longer. I was already concocting plans in my head to try to get you out from under her. I was prepared to fight Greyback for you if that was what it had come down to, but it didn't and I'm grateful that the elf was able to get

you out of there."

Finally tilting his head up to meet her eyes, he asked,

"What is the elf's name?"

Tears streaming down her face, Hermione looked away.

"His name was Dobby. He died that day...rescuing me. He could have just apparated Harry and Ron away and left me, but he didn't. He came up to the drawing room first to get me. As we were disapparating, Bellatrix...she...she threw her dagger at us and it hit Dobby. He died in Harry's arms. We buried him at Shell Cottage and then Fleur treated my wounds. His death is on my head. So many are. So many good people died in the War...lost friends, lost children, lost parents...and I can't seem to live the life I'm lucky to even have. I keep thinking that if I could have put the clues together sooner, read more, been better...less lives would have been lost."

Hermione began to sob and pulled her legs up to the settee. She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her head in her knees. Rabastan looked over to Antonin and jerked his head over in a beckoning motion. Antonin stood up and came over to the settee. He slowly picked the woman up and sat down. She was so caught in her sorrow that she barely registered the fact that he had placed her in his lap. Hermione grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and buried her head in his chest. Rabastan slowly stood up and sat down next to the pair. He began to run his hand up and down her back in a calming manner as he heard his lover croon to her in Russian.

"Vse v poryadke, eto v proshlom. Idemte, nu zhe, vso khorosho. Ya khochu, chtoby ty uspokoisya i vzdokhnul."

She cried for so long that Rabastan thought he was going to have to get another calming draught. He took his hand away and went to stand up to retrieve one when he felt her hand pull on his robes. She rubbed at her eyes and looked up at him, hiccoughing.

"Please, don't go."

"I'm going to get you another calming draught. You need to calm down and take a deep breath."

"Stay. I... I don't want another calming draught. I'm okay. I'm not sure what happened there, but I feel better...mortified, but better." She stood up and avoided their eyes. "I really do appreciate the two of you helping me out. I don't want to further interrupt your lives. I apologize for putting any sort of strain on your relationship if I have. I'm sure this wasn't what you two had planned for the day. I'll just get out of your hair."

Rabastan looked at Antonin and raised his eyebrows. Antonin shook his head to let him know he hadn't said anything. As Hermione went to walk past, Antonin grabbed her hand. He pulled her back to the settee.

"Relationship, Меgeara? Which relationship is that?"

-

Megeara - Shrew, Vixen

Syad - Sit down.

Syad i slushay - Sit down and listen.

Vse v poryadke, eto v proshlom. Idemte, nu zhe, vso horosho. Ya hochu, chtoby ty uspokoisya i vzdokhnul. - It's okay, it's over. It's okay, baby, come on. I need you to calm down and breathe.