June 3rd

The sound of the front door opening downstairs woke Hermione up early Sunday morning. For days there had been no sign of her husband. Part of her hated to admit that she was worried about him. What was he involved in that would take him away for so long? Or was he just simply that upset after their discussion about Andromeda Tonks' murder that he couldn't bear to look at the woman he knew was responsible? He could be frightfully difficult to read at times.

Unwilling to lay in the darkness of their bedroom waiting for him, she rose from the bed to seek him out first. Her curiosity of where he'd been was strong. Even if she was a little bit worried that he would take out his anger and sadness on her in some horrific manner, the waiting around was unbearable. Finding him standing at the kitchen sink filling the kettle from the tap in much the same manner as he had been the moment all of their trouble started, she didn't speak to him. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway watching his movements. At the distance across the room, she could tell just in the set of his shoulders and the expression on his face that he was much calmer. He didn't speak to her either. Just turned his attention back to the filling of the kettle.

Hermione needed something to do with her hands. Clearly this wasn't going to be one of those moments when they both just blurted out what they were upset about to talk it out. They handled their issues in a myriad of different ways over the years. Some surprisingly healthy, others far from it. She crossed the kitchen to begin preparing him breakfast. The men in her life were always easier to deal with when they'd been fed.

The tension in the kitchen was evident long before she placed a bowl of oatmeal on the table in front of her waiting husband. She had been able to feel his eyes on her the entire time she was in the room. It was part of her life. Before she tried to kill him, he spent most days completely ignoring her, but when he was attentive, it was impossible to miss. Since her return, if she was in the room, he was focused entirely on his wife. She wasn't sure yet if that was a positive development or one she would come to regret. While he was waiting, he prepared her a cup of tea just how she liked it. She thought it odd how domestic and simple it all seemed. Anyone who didn't know them looking in would think that they were a loving, supportive couple. Appearances were indeed deceiving.

As he tucked into his breakfast, Hermione sipped at her tea thinking over again what she learned the previous day about Andromeda. That was all she'd been able to think about since she pulled herself from the pensieve. Even her dreams were colored with remnants of the hazy memories. She knew that she shouldn't feel guilty about the death. The wretched woman was going to tell her husband a secret she never intended him to learn. If he knew about the herbs and potions she'd purchased from the hag over the years, she had no doubt that he would become so angry that he would kill her. There were multiple incidents over the years when she thought she might finally push him over the edge to where he couldn't control himself. None of those were anywhere close to being as sensitive an issue for him as the growth of their family. His most fervent desire had been to fill their home with the sound of laughter and little feet. If left up to him, they would have had a dozen. She'd denied him the opportunity.

She felt a small bit of guilt creep on her at the thought of what she'd done. As much as she didn't want to be a mother, she didn't necessarily have to resort to such drastic measures. Shaking off the guilt, she resolved not to let it bother her again. There was nothing that could be done about the past. It was over and done. The last potion she took from the hag before her visit days earlier made conceiving another child impossible. If Antonin wanted a bigger family, he'd need another wife. Maybe he would get his chance when she left for good or when she was finally killed for her crimes.

Antonin pushing his empty bowl away from him on the table broke Hermione out of her thoughts. When she looked up to see him finish wiping his mouth on a napkin, she could tell that he was ready to speak. There was an imperious manner he had about him whenever he deemed others worthy to hear what he had to say. She always hated his arrogance. In that moment, however, she was glad that he was at least no longer ignoring her.

"I always want you by my side, Hermione. Always."

Relieved, at first, that it seemed like he wasn't going to go straight into demanding to know why she killed Andromeda years earlier, she wasn't sure that she wanted to go down the path she knew they were headed. Maybe it would've been easier for him to just stay away from their house until she was able to free Aberforth. Her husband was presenting a number of complications that she didn't care for. She knew that they needed to clear the air if there was any hope of harmonious living, but she didn't want to have the uncomfortable discussion she knew they were going to have. Without saying a word in response to his confession, she allowed him to speak what was on his mind.

"We've both tried to ignore what was wrong for years. Maybe we made the wrong decision."

She wanted to argue with her that there was nothing wrong with her, but she couldn't. There was something wrong with her and she was desperate to know what it was. Overindulgence in potions when she was stressed out or unhappy certainly didn't help matters. She could at least begin to understand that they were at least partially responsible for the gaps in her memory. When she took too many of them, she couldn't remember. That wasn't all though. There was definitely something more. She couldn't explain the periods of confusion she had when she would wake up and think that Harry was still alive. Or how she still didn't know the truth about her parents. Her pride was keeping her from asking Antonin to clear up the mystery of their fate. She knew that soon she would need to get over it and ask.

"I think you should stop working. At least until we have a solution."

Hermione's first instinct was to argue. The words were coming out of her mouth at a rapid rate before she even had much of an opportunity to think them through. Not working was not an option. If she agreed with her husband's proposed solution, she would lose any chance at all of freeing Aberforth from the prison she was responsible for him being in. She wasn't prepared yet to give up hope that it was possible. Expecting any kind of future where the Resistance still clamored for her blood wasn't a good one.

"Rabastan is dangerous. I thought he was on our side, but he's apparently been seen with Theodore in private. If he's against us, he will use anything he can to hurt us."

She knew he was right. The realization bothered her immensely. Years of working in such close quarters with Rabastan and carrying on a flagrant affair with him taught her more about the man than she really wanted to know. So unlike his older brother in so many ways, he was without a doubt a dangerous enemy to have.

"Please don't make me stay home. I'm only just now starting to feel normal again."

Begging her husband wasn't always the wisest decision. He was visibly uncomfortable by her pleas. Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, he asked another question she knew that he wasn't comfortable asking.

"Other than the ones we have upstairs that I know are safe, have you been taking any other potions?"

Rarely had they ever touched on the illegal substances he knew that she consumed when he wasn't looking. It was something of a secret that they both knew about and just didn't want to address. She didn't harangue him about his drinking, he never mentioned her potions. Without hesitation, she shook her head. Those days in Kingsley's flat, however long they lasted, left a big enough impression on her that she had no desire to swallow another.

"Good. I think they only make your confusion worse."

"I haven't had one since…" She cleared her throat, unsure if she wanted to go there, but finally decided she must. "Not since Ollie's eleventh birthday. I don't have any intention of using them again."

He seemed pleased by her answer, deftly brushing aside the awkwardness that likely would always plague them when mention of the day she almost killed him came up in conversation. Rising to his feet, he moved to her side of the table. Antonin took her hands in his.

"And I have no intention of keeping any secrets from you."

With his eyes locked onto hers to prove that what he said was the truth, he began explaining what she missed in the meeting days earlier that started this whole argument. She had no reason to believe that he was lying. If anyone could tell when he was being insincere, it was his wife. There was a lot to discuss. The country was growing restless. Everyone could feel it. He explained the reports that were being gathered by their operatives, in the country and abroad. The semblance of peace was likely just a precursor to something big and terrible coming. They had to be prepared.

"Rumors about the Dark Lord's likely death are spreading. No one is sure how or where they are getting their information, but the Resistance is growing stronger. It's possible that they're even allying themselves with foreign groups. No one can confirm that for me yet. But regardless, we have to prepare ourselves for the very likely possibility that we are headed into another war."

Unable to sit still thinking about the possibility that what they'd fought so hard for all of those years would be for nothing, Hermione dropped Antonin's hands and stood to her feet. She was a nervous bundle of energy. It was even more imperative that she get Aberforth released. When the violence began, she wanted to be far away. Before she could take a step away, Antonin's hand caught her gently by the waist. He covered his lips with hers. Lasting only a moment, it helped calm her somewhat.

"I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you and Ollie safe."

He made his excuses to slip upstairs for a shower. At least for the time being, Hermione knew she was spared from the ugliness of a conversation about Andromeda. Maybe, if she was careful, she could keep the wretched bitch's name out of their mouths until she was able to finally leave.