May 18th

After a year's absence, the first full week of Hermione being back at the Ministry of Magic was threatening to do her completely in. By the time she exited the fireplace in her kitchen at the end of the day on Friday, she was exhausted. More than just physically, she was exhausted in every other way it was possible to be exhausted. Not only had she forgotten how tiresome playing the political game could be, but she found herself wondering how it was possible that she even enjoyed it to begin with. Nothing could be said or done within those walls without another analyzing it to the minutest detail for some sort of hint or clue of deception or deviousness.

She loathed Rabastan. A part of her, even when he was tumbling in and out of her bed, always hated the man. There was something unnerving about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Like a snake in the grass, it felt like he was always watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He was a complication that she knew to expect, but one that she wasn't completely sure how to outmaneuver. And her insipid assistant was right there hanging on every single word he spoke as if it was pure gold. Hermione knew the man well enough to know that it wouldn't take long before he grew tired of the witch. There was a reason why women never stayed very long in his life. Once he confided in her when he was very drunk that the great love of his life died when they were very young. No one would ever take her place.

Sure, he was married and even had three or four children of his own being brought up in the perfect image of a Dark Lord loving family. His wife was one of those long-suffering creatures resigned to the fact that her life would never be exciting or fulfilling. At grand parties whenever Rabastan was required to make it seem like he was a devoted family man for the esteem of the regime, Hermione avoided the boring Mrs. Lestrange. Just because she pitied the woman her lot in life didn't mean that she was interested in being her friend. Especially not since it was an open secret that the two Co-Heads of the Intelligence Division had been having a sexual affair for years. That made for awkward conversations over champagne and canapés.

All week long he might not have come right out and demanded to know why she was back, but Hermione knew he was always just moments away from blurting out his questions. He was a patient man, likely the only good trait that came out of his years suffering in Azkaban under the influence of the dementors. When the moment was right, he'd have his answers. She had to be careful. There was a valid reason why he was so good at his job.

Because she knew that she was under constant observation, she didn't try to sneak down into Level Eleven again. Dolores Umbridge was a sneaky element that she should've expected. Their mutual disdain and hatred never wavered over the years. The file clerk wasn't likely to forget her attack by the centaurs in Hermione's fifth year and the role the younger witch played in it. Hermione would never forget all of the disgusting, devious antics of the disgraced official over the years that the war was still in full effect. She knew that if given half a chance, Umbridge would bring her down. For all she was aware, she might even have an alliance with Rabastan. The wizard hadn't been silent about his desire for Hermione to disappear again. Even if he hadn't said it to her face, she had other avenues to discover what he'd been saying behind her back.

She looked forward to two solid days where she could relax in the comfort of her own home without being stared at and judged by the idiots who worked in the Ministry. Few visible changes existed since her time away, but it was evident that there were many who shared the same sentiments as Rabastan. No one, it seemed, missed her presence one bit.

Her failure to get to Aberforth that week ate away at her gut. She would have to be more creative, more deliberate in her actions. Time was swiftly running out. The cells weren't exactly hospitable to even those in their prime. A man well past the age of one hundred wouldn't last. Besides, she had selfish motivations. She was feeling anxious to leave again. Home was unbearable.

Antonin would not speak to her. For days, he either avoided her entirely or pretended she wasn't even in the same room when their paths crossed. Once upon a time she might have dreamed of such a marriage with the irascible wizard. The reality was much different than the fantasy. She still wasn't sure what to make of it all.

Their home was empty again. Part of her was relieved. After the stressful week at the Ministry, she wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with her husband. Or, not deal with her husband as the case was likely to be. His absence was welcome. At least if she wasn't forced to see him, she could push aside the upsetting concerns that something more sinister was happening than she was aware.

She assumed that he was simply off warming another witch's bed. Maybe most would look at the blasé manner in which she considered her husband's infidelity to be frightfully disturbing, but it wasn't as if she was blameless. Their marriage was far from being conventional in any way. Other women wouldn't accept their husband's straying. Neither would other men, for that matter. In the Dolohov marriage, it worked.

The first time Hermione ever confronted Antonin about his affair with Andromeda Tonks had not gone well. Allowing the cheating to happen was one thing. Talking about it was something completely different. They had been married for five years, but his wife had known there was something going on for a lot longer than that. How she knew was unclear. Maybe it was one of those secrets that everyone knows about and no one can remember where they first heard it. Again, it wasn't as if she could exactly judge his actions. She was guilty of plenty of unfaithfulness herself. It wasn't as if they wanted to get married in the first place. At least she didn't. Antonin's motivations were always suspect in her mind.

When she told him that she knew he was spending his nights in Andromeda Tonks' flat above the shop she owned in Diagon Alley, he had enough respect for his wife to not deny the truth. With a resigned sigh, he told her the truth, the entire truth about his extramarital relationship. Much more than Hermione wanted to know.

Before she fell completely in love with the Muggle-born wizard Ted Tonks and was cast out of the Black family, Andromeda believed she would likely end up marrying the eldest of the four Dolohov boys. At the very least, her father Cygnus strongly encouraged the match. She was entirely too headstrong, in his opinion, and wouldn't likely be accepted as a suitable wife by many other families. The Dolohovs were respectable, in their own manner. She'd known Antonin since they were small children. When they were fifth years, he asked her to join him on a Hogsmeade Saturday. Up until the very end of their seventh year when she realized she loved Ted, they were a couple. Even each other's very first awkward lover. Antonin's sensitive eighteen year old feelings were hurt by the breakup, but he busied himself with serving a powerful wizard that everyone believed would one day become the Minister for Magic.

After the war ended, Andromeda was alone. Only her infant grandson remained of the happy family she once possessed. Because her daughter and her son-in-law were such visible members of the losing side, she feared that their actions would damn their son. The thought of losing little Teddy after she'd lost everything and everyone else was unbearable. Days after the murder of Harry Potter, she sought Antonin out. She knew that she needed to have a powerful ally within the new regime if she expected her grandson to survive. Her life was meaningless. Part of her wished she could follow her husband in death, but she would be damned if her innocent grandson would be punished for his parents' failings.

Their friendship was innocent… until it wasn't. Three years after she lost her husband, Andromeda invited another man back into her bed. Antonin used his influence to ensure that she and her grandson were left alone. The renewal of their sexual relationship was simply an added perk. He admitted that he would've done anything she asked regardless. When he suggested that they get married to make certain that she always remained safe, Andromeda laughed in his face.

"You are amazingly generous and kind, Tony, but no. No, that would be a terrible idea! Can you even imagine? We wouldn't last. Not when we're both clearly in love with other people. I fear we'd grow to resent each other."

He never proposed again, but their relationship continued. She represented a safe haven for him when the world around him grew frightening and frustrating. It angered Hermione that he was able to find peace so easily in the other woman's tiny flat. His wife resented the woman, resented how much he cared for his mistress. Hermione always felt like Andromeda was looking down her nose at her. Like she was less than the scum in the gutter. Because she was once married to a Muggle-born, she knew that it wasn't the purity of her blood that offended her. She could only imagine what vile words her husband whispered into her ears when they were alone. Or what he told the wretched woman about his wife and the private details of their marriage.

If Antonin was content to wallow in disgrace with the woman she loathed, Hermione chose not to let it bother her any longer. She wouldn't be in Hogsmeade long enough to care. Let him have his woman. She would figure out a way to get Aberforth out of the Ministry and move on with her life without him.