May 30th

All day long Hermione was on edge waiting for any kind of news from Draco. She knew it was unreasonable. What was she expecting? The wizard to just waltz into her office in the middle of the day to tell her he'd been successful in finding a highly illegal potion that could get them both thrown into Azkaban merely for discussing it? Besides, if he was able to procure a vial or even just the ingredients, it would take several days at minimum. It wasn't as if she asked him for something simple after all.

Polyjuice potion was outlawed soon after the war ended. Although it had always been an extremely difficult potion to brew and very rarely used, there was a concern that the Resistance or some other faction against the rise of the new regime would dip into the arcane potions volumes to rediscover how to brew it. The Dark Lord had been impressed by the potions use by both his faithful servant Barty Crouch Jr. and Draco's use of it during the year he was ordered to kill Dumbledore. In the wrong hands, there was no end to the amount of damage it could cause.

Antonin was tasked with destroying every single book in existence that contained the old potion several years later when it was believed that there were still some who were foolish enough to brew it for their own nefarious purposes. In a rare effort to be romantic, he'd smuggled the Hogwarts copy of Most Potente Potions out of the castle under his robes. With all of the curtains drawn around their home, he'd presented it to his wife like it was a dozen roses. She'd been so thrilled to receive it that she hadn't hesitated in succumbing to every debauched desire her husband possessed. It was locked up under heavy wards in their basement. She was thankful that she didn't need to see the book to remember how to brew it. Her husband might not be so understanding if he learned what she was doing.

While she waited for news of the polyjuice potion her plan required, Hermione kept herself busy purchasing another concoction that she hoped would aid in saving Dumbledore's life while it also ruined Umbridge's. Slipping out of the Ministry a little early, she made her way to Knockturn Alley. It had been a long time since she last traveled to that familiar district. She found it interesting to discover that she'd actually missed the dark and dreary place. The area that used to frighten her as a young adolescent made her feel at home as an adult. Little did she know when she was still that idealistic child how welcoming the place and its inhabitants could really be.

An old hag that she had been doing business with for years was surprised to see her cross the threshold of her dingy shop once more. The last visit had been a few years earlier. Hermione couldn't remember why exactly she stopped coming. Maybe she hadn't had the need for the questionable potions and items the hag specialized in. It didn't really matter. When she placed her order, the hag was more than happy to assist.

"Careful with the dosage, Madam Dolohov. Too much and you could make the person go mad."

Even though she knew it wasn't her intention, a smile crept up on Hermione's face at the thought. As far as side effects went, that one wasn't half-bad considering who she would be feeding the potion to. She wondered all the way to the nearest Apparition point if there wasn't at least some small opportunity to have a little fun with this dreadful mission. At least the thought helped to dispel a tiny bit of the fear that everything was going to end in disaster.

Antonin was already home when she entered through the front door again. Years had gone by since she last understood exactly how he filled his hours. No longer at the Ministry of Magic every day, he divided his time in a number of mysterious ways. Making certain that the vial she purchased was safely stowed away in the pocket of her Ministry robes, Hermione pushed open the door to the kitchen.

Her husband had always been a strange creature. All of the other wives in the village agreed. Antonin enjoyed taking over the domestic task of feeding his family. Part of his desire to cook most meals came out of necessity. Hermione worked very unpredictable hours for many years. It would have been foolish to wait around for her to come home when he was perfectly capable of cooking himself. Besides, not only did he find an odd sort of pleasure in it that his wife never understood, he was much, much better at the task than she ever hoped to be.

"Did you take another walk through the village?"

She could tell that he was trying to be friendly, to bring some sense of normalcy to a situation that was still fraught with anxiety and confusion. Even almost three weeks into her return they had yet to really sit down and have the conversation they needed. Each of them seemed content for the moment to pretend as if everything was all right. Their first attempts ended so dismally after all.

Hermione nodded her head and granted him a small smile. Startled by the expression, Antonin took a few seconds to return it. After their short kiss the night before, a surprisingly pleasant evening passed. Little was spoken and there wasn't an effort to kiss her again, but it was a good start to lull her husband into the false sense of security she desired. Deciding to keep up the friendly façade from the day before in hopes that he soon would feel comfortable confiding in her again, she stood a few steps away from him watching him prepare their evening meal. A little friendly conversation could only help matters.

"I've really missed having you home with me."

His words slipped out of his mouth in the middle of what she thought was an innocuous discussion about something inane that she witnessed at the Ministry that day. She hadn't expected them to suddenly get so serious. Daring to look him in the eyes, she could sense that he was being nothing but sincere. Hearing her husband speak in such a frank manner surprised her. Unsure how to respond, she blurted out the first thought that came to her mind.

"Did you really miss me or are you just saying that out of an obligation?"

His sigh wasn't one of frustration. It sounded more sad than anything else. Hermione berated herself internally. What a ridiculous concept! She couldn't afford to let the man convince her with his fake act. There was too much at stake to fall for it.

"I never stopped thinking about you while you were gone. I was so worried about you. I wish you would've come home sooner."

"How could I, Antonin? I was afraid you would kill me."

He set down the spoon he'd been using to stir whatever was simmering away in the pot. Taking the necessary couple of steps to close the distance between the two of them, Antonin gently cupped the outside of her head with his right hand. When she tried to look away, afraid of the intensity of his gaze, he gently forced her to look up again.

"I don't ever want to hurt you, my darling."

"But you have before."

This time, the sigh that escaped from his mouth was laced with frustration. Quiet and subtle, but still present. What he was frustrated with exactly wasn't clear. Antonin took another deep breath and spoke.

"I will always regret the past, but I will promise you that the future will be different."

Such pretty words. She almost believed them. She wanted to believe them. How many times in the past had he uttered almost the exact same promise that he inevitably broke? She wasn't innocent either. They were both awful and nasty and violent when it suited their purposes.

The air in the kitchen was thick with a tension she couldn't deny. Forgetting the meal he was supposed to be preparing, Antonin kept his full attention on his wife. She could barely breathe under the scrutiny. When he leaned down to capture her mouth with his, she was tempted to push him away or curse him until he stopped touching her. The thought only lasted for a moment before she couldn't remember why she wanted him to stop.

Everything felt so familiar. Feeling Antonin's body pressed up against hers, his hands running up and down brushing any bare skin he could find, his tongue invading her mouth in that confident, infuriating matter he always possessed, brought back an influx of memories and emotions she struggled to fight against. How was it possible that the man who hurt her so thoroughly could make her feel so safe in his arms? It was dangerous to even think about allowing him to worm his way back into her life in such a manner. She could be friendly with him for the purpose of gathering information, but could she really allow him the opportunity to consume her again?

He pressed her against the kitchen table. Thoughts of the times he took her right on top of the battered piece of furniture colored her cheeks a bright crimson. The escalation of his kiss proved that he wanted more than just a kiss. She was tempted to give him everything he asked for. Why could she not think clearly around him? It wasn't as if she loved him. She'd never felt that with anyone but Augustus.

A loud knock at the door and then a deep clearing of a throat was what finally broke the spell of the moment. Looking up to see their next door neighbor standing just inside their kitchen with his eyes averted forced an annoyed growl from Antonin and a soft sigh of relief from Hermione. It wasn't like Corban to just press on through to the interior of their home without good cause. Whatever he needed to say to them was important.

"Very sorry, but something's come up."

Everyone present in the room knew each other well enough to know that Corban was telling the truth. Hermione's curiosity threatened to overpower her again. What was so urgent? Was the Dark Lord finally dead?

"I think it's best that you stay home."

She wanted to argue with Antonin at first. Being left out of whatever was happening wasn't how she wanted to spend the evening. But, she also understood that she wasn't ready to be fully immersed in their world again just yet. With a swift peck to his lips, she agreed. She would remain safe in their home until he returned.