I awoke the next morning with my head throbbing brutally and my mouth tasting like a rat had died in it. The sun streaming through the windows felt like a personal insult. "I'm never drinking again," I groaned mendaciously.
After a few moments of sulking, I rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the kitchen. A cup of coffee would surely help put me right, and then I could take a shower and over-analyze every social interaction from the night before. I stumbled unseeingly through the living room, trying to mentally recreate my night. I was sure that the Weasley cauldron shots were to blame for at least some of my current misery.
I'd just opened the tap, coffee pot in hand, when an unpleasantly familiar snore sounded behind me. I whirled around in a panic, slopping the water all down my front. On my couch was an enormous lump, covered in a horrible purple and yellow blanket that Luna had crocheted for my birthday. The tattooed legs sticking out of it confirmed what the snore had already told me. Anontin Bloody Dolohov was asleep on my couch. On top of him lay my traitorous cat, also fast asleep and pleased as punch.
I stared, horrified, for at least a minute as patchy recollections of the previous night emerged. Eventually, I decided that I could not be expected to deal with this before caffeine and a shower. I set a double pot of coffee to brew and crept to the shower.
When I emerged a few minutes later, smelling better but still horribly hungover, I sincerely hoped that an empty couch would meet my eyes. Really, it would be so much better if the whole thing were just a hallucination brought on by Mr. Bonkers Ballistic Bourbon. Sadly, such a lucky fate was not to be mine.
The purple and yellow lump was still snoring away as if it didn't have a care in the world. Just then the coffee maker beeped, my front door slammed open, and Harry staggered in, also clearly feeling the effects of the previous evening.
"I thought we talked about knocking," I chided him without any real feeling.
"If you wanted me to knock, I wouldn't have a key," he groused back.
"Shove it or I'll take my key back. I'm dying here and you come in slamming doors," I grumbled as I went to pour the coffee.
"I might have something for that," replied Harry, "Fred sent along a new anti-hangover potion they're testing. Or it'll turn us both into geese. Toss-up really."
"Well either way, I can't feel worse," I grabbed the potion from his outstretched hand and downed it in one go. I did not feel like a goose, but my head did cease aching somewhat and my stomach stopped threatening to revolt.
My happiness was short lived however, as the Boy-Who-Doesn't-Have-Boundaries had woken up Antonin. He had never been much of a morning person, and announced that he was awake with a grunt of, "Coffee?"
Having expected him to start shouting or throwing curses, this seemed like the best possible outcome. Feeling wary but also too tired to figure out what under Merlin was going on, I poured three cups of strong black coffee and plopped myself into a living room chair. Antonin sat up, the blanket sliding off his torso and I was greeted by his very bare, very muscular chest. Somehow I'd forgotten how infuriatingly attractive the man was, and I choked on my first sip of coffee. I shook my head like a wet dog to clear it, which did no favors to my lingering malaise.
We all sipped our coffee in silence, Harry staring at me with his best worried mother-hen expression. Long years of friendship should have taught him that it was useless to attempt conversation until at least halfway through the cup, but after a few sips he blurted out,
"How're you feeling?"
"Better," I answered dryly, "That hangover potion is pretty amazing."
"That's not really what I meant, Mione."
"I know, Harry, but what do you want me to say? Pissed off? Unsurprised?" I started, thinking about Ron. Then my gaze fell on Antonin and I added, "Very confused."
He nodded. Antonin watched us without speaking. Harry looked awkward for a moment, unsure of how to continue.
"Look," he said at last, "We're holding Ron but we've only got 2 more hours to charge or release him. I need to get your memories now."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised that he was going through with this in the clear light of day.
"Are you sure you want to?" I asked him seriously, looking carefully at his face to try to gauge what he was thinking.
"Of course," he and Antonin chorused. I shot Antonin a withering glance and looked back at Harry.
"The family-" I began, but he cut me off.
"-are sick to death of his shite. Stealing money from Molly was bad, calling Ginny a bitch when she confronted him was worse, but this is the last straw. They all know what he is now." My eyes widened at these new details, but I still couldn't really accept that such drastic steps needed to happen.
"He was our friend," I whispered, my voice breaking.
"Oh, that is nice friend," said Dolohov sarcastically.
I turned to shush him, but Harry interjected, "He's right. He was our friend, once, but he's changed. You've seen it yourself, more than anyone. The war amplified all his worst qualities, and erased his best ones."
My irresolution must have been written all over my face because Antonin chimed in, "Nobody has right to act like that. If he'll do it to you, think how many others he will treat worse,"
In a few minutes, we could examine what my estranged husband was doing on my couch, wrapped up in my fuzzy blanket and talking sense into me, but right now I had to make a decision. Finally, I nodded sadly.
"I don't know if it will hold up. I hit him too, you know," I answered tiredly.
"Could we watch it?" Harry asked gently. I nodded and he set down the muggle Aldis bag he'd been carrying with a disconcerting thunk. From it, I was surprised to see him pull Dumbledore's pensive. In response to my raised eyebrow, Harry said,
"Undetectable extension charm. I took a leaf out of your book," and shot me a wink.
I raised my wand to my temple and gritted my teeth, puling the memory from my head. It felt rough and gritty, I suppose because I'd been so drunk. I flicked it into the pensive and the gray liquid swirled smoothly. Harry and Antonin both leaned forward.
I turned away, not wanting to watch it again, and especially not wanting to see their reactions to it. I took my time refilling my coffee and topping up Crookshanks' food bowl. My blasted cat jumped down from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen as if he had not been canoodling all night with the enemy.
After a surprisingly short time, I heard a stream of curse words from the living room that let me know the memory was at an end.
I returned to the living room to find Harry on his feet, shoving the very expenseive magical artifact somewhat haphazardly into the Aldis bag.
"This is definitely chargeable," he growled, "I'm going straight round to the office. Come on, Dolohov, you're leaving too,"
Dolohov didn't budge from the couch, "No," he rumbled, "I think to talk with Hermione first."
"The hell you do," Harry growled, rounding on him angrily.
"Harry," I interjected "If he wanted to kill me he had all night to do it. I'm a big girl,"
Harry looked unconvinced for a moment, but then quirked an eyebrow at me as if to say your funeral. After having so many choices taken from me in the last day, I felt a wave of love and gratitude for my best friend sweep over me. I pulled him into a fierce hug, and he whispered into my hair,
"If you change your mind..."
"I know," I murmured, giving him one last squeeze and stepping back. He shot Antonin one more openly hostile glance and then jogged out the door.
I assumed, or possibly hoped, that Antonin would not be far behind him. I held the door open for him and began uncertainly,
"Thank you, for er- for showing up last night. You didn't have to, but I do-" before I could continue stumbling speech any further, Antonin cut me off.
"You still wear your ring," he noted in a flat voice.
I coloured slightly, and looked away with a nod. Silence hung between us for a moment. I still stood by the open door, waiting to see if Antonin was leaving.
"I vould like to speak with you, before I go." Antonin reiterated finally. It was not a command, but a request. I knew that if I refused, he would walk out the door and out of my life forever.
I took a deep, calming breath and sighed.
"Fine," I agreed, "but not without breakfast. There's a place round the corner, but you can't wear your robes."
I was curious to see if Antonin would object to dining at a muggle establishment, but to my surprise he nodded and with a wave of his wand transformed his robes into muggle attire. He wore a stylish, yet classic weekend outfit that looked straight out of the Barbour catalogue. I was infuriated to note that he looked even more handsome in muggle dress than he did in wizard's robes.
We trooped down the stairs of my walkup flat in silence and around the corner to my favorite cafe. I loved it for the Parisian- style sidewalk tables that allowed for unrestricted people watching. In this case, it had the added benefit of allowing me to avoid eye-contact with Antonin, as we were sitting side by side facing the street.
I continued to be surprised at his seemingly effortless interactions with the muggle waitress, having watched many pureblooded wizards struggle to adapt to the cultural patterns of the muggle world.
"You seem quite comfortable attired in muggle clothing, here in a muggle cafe," I observed curiously once our coffees had arrived.
"Is part of my probation that I work at a muggle establishment," he explained.
"Where do you work?" I asked with lively curiosity.
"In a pre-school. I am assistant to the teacher," he explained.
I was glad that Antonin was not looking at my face at that moment. My stomach clenched and a wave of something like nostalgia swept over me as I imagined Antonin being mobbed my toddlers. Once, in my deepest darkest fantasies, I'd imagined watching him play with our children.
"What do you do now?" he queried.
"Oh it's quite boring," I responded with a laugh, "Research stuff. Nobody wants to hear about it,"
"I vould like to," he said sincerely.
"Your funeral," I shrugged, "Well I work for the department of magical creatures and we've been studying alternate solutions of the wolfsbane potion..." I prattled on for quite a while, as Antonin asked excellent questions. On top of everything else, he had an impressive academic mind.
However, the little voice at the back of my head would not be silenced. As soon as our breakfast had been deposited by the distracted waitress, I cut myself off mid-sentence and the question that I'd been wondering about since last night spilled out,
"Why are you really here? Don't you hate me?"
"I did, for a while," Antonin answered slowly.
I nodded. He was more than justified.
"But the more I think about it, the more I have questions," He continued, "Things do not make sense. Why you do not invade my mind?"
I forced my fists to unclench from their stranglehold on my napkin. This topic was extremely painful for me, but the least I could do for Antonin was provide him with some closure. This time, I would not lie to him,
"Snape wanted me to. But I just- I wanted there to be something real between us. Something- something that wasn't a lie,"
My cheeks flamed with embarrassment and I kept my eyes fixed unseeingly on the busy road in front of me.
"And you still wear your wedding ring?"
"Yes," I answered tightly, not wishing to elaborate.
I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye.
"So I have been thinking for some time now, all was not lie. You cared for me, did you not?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"But you did not answer to my letters?" he asked in a quiet voice, almost gently.
"I didn't get them," I corrected him, "Harry thought it wouldn't be good for me. I'm sure he imagined that you were angry and he wanted me to move on,"
Antonin grunted. I felt that we were teetering on the edge of something.
I took a mechanical bite of my breakfast, not even tasting the food. It was torture, feeling Antonin's warmth beside me, but I couldn't make myself get up and walk away.
"Hermione, can you forgive me?" Antonin asked, turning to face me full-on.
I dropped my fork in surprise and it clattered unheeded to the floor.
"Wh- what?" I stuttered, sure I had misheard. Antonin, who knew I'd heard him perfectly well, did not repeat himself.
"I'm fairly certain that I should be asking your forgiveness, not the other way round," I said faintly.
"I already forgive you," Antonin stated calmly.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. You hurt me yes, but not from cruelty or disrespect. You also save my life, put yourself on the line for me many times. However, I also hurt you. I was Death Eater. I tried to kill you, I nearly allow others to kill you,"
Upon finishing this little speech, Antonin sat looking at me expectantly. I realized he was still waiting to hear if I could forgive him.
"Of course I can forgive you," I whispered, fixing my eyes on his face and wondering if this were all a dream. To know that Antonin Dolohov did not hate the very memory of my felt like a hundred pound weight had been lifted from my chest. To part as friends was more than I had ever hoped for.
He gave me a small smile, his blue eyes twinkling. With a typically abysmal sense of timing, the waitress appeared that that moment to settle up the bill. Antonin waved away my card and paid expertly with muggle money, even correctly calculating a tip.
We stood and stepped onto the side walk. I turned to say goodbye to Antonin, but a gentle hand on my arm stopped me.
"Hermione, may I take you to dinner?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain.
A cocked my head and raised an eyebrow at him. What was he playing at?
"I want us to start over. No lies, no war. I court you properly, and marry you again,"
I gaped at him. How typically like Antonin to propose this completely insane plan in all seriousness. Before I even knew what I was saying, my heart had answered for me,
"I'd like that."
