June 10th

Hermione woke up alone in bed sometime in mid-morning. A simple glance at the clock on her bedside table would have told her exactly what time, but she didn't have the energy to turn her head. Not just yet. The dose of the damned strawberry-flavored potion she took the day before when they returned from visiting her parents was a bit heavier than she expected. It would take a little bit of time for the effects to wear off once she woke up. No doubt Antonin assumed she was more agitated and confused than usual.

Which she was if she had to admit the truth. Every single moment she spent in her childhood home felt like a dream she didn't understand. If they'd actually been there for a visit the Christmas before she ran off, that must have meant that the confusion she had about her parents happened after that holiday. Neither her mum nor her dad treated her any differently than they had in the past she could remember. The secret of her diminished mind must have remained a secret from them. Or Antonin would've made a more believable lie about her being in a longterm care ward inaccessible by Muggles, not a South American rainforest researching magic. Her past as a shit mum and wife wasn't a surprise to her parents apparently if they weren't even horrified by her absence for so long.

The taste of the damned potion still lingered on her tongue even so many hours later. For years, Antonin always promised her that its only purpose was to help calm her when it was clear she was confused. She used to fight him, paranoid that he was trying to control her. He was a man who liked order and being in power. As often as they butt heads, it wasn't much of a stretch to believe he would do something so sinister. Eventually, when she could recognize the benefit of the potion, she stopped fighting. When he resorted to the other one that made her sleep for days on end, that was a completely different story. Those vials were usually only brought out for extreme incidents.

Thinking about the calming potion brought back memories of the day Augustus slipped one in her tea during her stay in Cornwall. How did he just happen to have some on hand? It wasn't as if she had ever had any sort of confusing periods when they were together. No, those didn't start until after she was married. It was time she got some answers from her husband. She'd waited long enough in an effort to keep the peace. Forcing herself out of the comfort of her bed, Hermione headed downstairs.

He was right where she expected to find him. Holding a cup of tea in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other, Antonin looked up at the sound of her entrance into the kitchen. His heated gaze as he made no secret of the fact that he was admiring his wife's body in her thin nightgown made Hermione's cheeks burn. It brought up thoughts about the early hours of Friday morning. Even after so many years together and every nasty thing they put each other through, it was evident that he was still attracted to her. Rabastan may have been right that she was his weakness.

When she sat down in the chair across from his, Antonin realized that she was serious about something. Folding his newspaper up, he set it down on the table to give her his full attention. She knew his expression well enough to know that he wasn't looking forward to whatever she was about to say. Part of her considered just ignoring her concerns for a little while longer. She was only going to stay long enough to help Aberforth Dumbledore escape. Once that was done, she was out of there, hopefully to never return.

"The potion you gave me yesterday, the one you always give me… how did Augie come to have some in his possession?"

Antonin sighed. Whatever he assumed they were going to discuss wasn't nearly as upsetting as what she brought up. He gathered his thoughts before speaking. Hermione's patience wore thin.

"Are you working with Augie, Antonin? Is that why he had some?"

"I'm not working with Gus any more than I usually do in execution of our orders from the Dark Lord. Did I give him some of the potion? Yes, I did. When you slipped away after Dumbledore was captured, I went to Cornwall, assuming that you would seek shelter with him. I left some vials there in case you showed up. I was worried about you."

"Worried that your insane wife was wandering around the country without her potions?"

It was evident that he didn't want to fight with her. That was often the way of it. Sometimes she was more passionate than her husband, more ready to go to battle than he was.

"Did you leave any more vials around? Maybe with Allie or at Lee Jordan's home in Wales?"

His second sigh was much heavier than the first. Everything about him seemed exhausted. In that moment, he appeared much older than she remembered. It was surprising. He was hardly in middle age for a wizard and he was from a family known for extended lifetimes. The only reason his parents were both dead was because of a very suspicious trip they took to Russia when he was locked up in Azkaban. Official reports listed their deaths as an accident, but there were rumors his father's younger brother was responsible.

She hadn't realized how much her husband aged in her absence. Was it due to the extent of his injuries she inflicted upon him? Or because of the stress of the prior year? Likely it was all of it and more that she didn't know yet. There were lines on his face that she didn't remember, more streaks of silver in his dark brown hair than there used to be.

"No, just with Gus."

It still bothered Hermione tremendously that he was able to visit Augustus' house three times without her ever seeing him. How was that even possible? She wanted to know his secret. Experience taught her that she likely never would. Her husband sighed yet once more, his frustration with their conversation growing.

"Gus said that he gave it to you when you were talking about Andromeda."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the mention of the wretched cow's name. She hated talking about her, hated even thinking about her miserable existence. There was a real fear present when his former mistress was brought up because she couldn't afford for him to figure out the true reason why she killed the bitch. If he asked, she wasn't sure that she could convince him of a lie. He was an expert at rooting out deceptions.

"I just forgot she was dead."

It wasn't necessary to add that the reason why she forgot she murdered the witch was because she drank too many of the potions she tried unsuccessfully to hide from him over the years. He knew about her habit. Knew about it and despised it. While he could understand the attraction to drinking too much alcohol, he had never been one to take illegal potions. That all started thanks to Rabastan. He was always the devil on her shoulder whispering in her ear, telling her to drink more.

Antonin seemed unsure how to proceed with their discussion. Most of the fight in Hermione dissipated. She had her answer. No, Augustus wasn't working with her husband in some nefarious scheme regarding her. No, he didn't leave potions everywhere he thought she might one day seek shelter. It was embarrassing enough that Augustus knew about the mental struggles she had. If anyone else learned about it, she was concerned that she might lose some of the tentative footing she had in their society. As long as she was there, it would be helpful if no one else knew she was less than perfect.

No longer wishing to argue with her exhausted husband, Hermione made her excuses to return upstairs. She needed to get dressed and get out of their house. With the end of the school year rapidly approaching, she knew that Oliver was unlikely to get a pass out of the castle to come visit. There was no reason to spend all day cooped up inside the house. Not when she had a potion to check on.

Following a long shower, Hermione dressed and steadied her nerves for another possible confrontation with her husband. Giving him time to think and stew might have encouraged him to renew their discussion. At the bottom of the stairs, she made an abrupt turn towards the kitchen. The door underneath the staircase opened to her surprise. Antonin emerged from the entrance to the basement with a fierce look on his face. Based on his raised eyebrows and his sudden suspicious expression that he wasn't able to hide until after she'd already seen it, he didn't want her to know he'd been downstairs. In the entire time since she'd been back in their home, she had yet to see him go down there.

"I'm needed at the castle. I'll be home later."

He brushed his lips against her cheek moments after he shut the door and locked it. Unwilling to give her any further explanation about why he was needed at the castle, Hermione watched him leave through the front door. Her curiosity about what he was doing down in the basement was overpowering. Waiting for at least three minutes to make sure he didn't return home suddenly, she removed the enchantment they always kept on the basement door.

There had been no reason for her to go down there again since she learned the truth about Andromeda's murder. Once the memory was safely restored to her mind, she made sure that she left no remnants behind, no clue that she'd been down there at all. Antonin asked too many questions that he didn't need to know the answer to.

She knew where he'd been the moment her eyes adjusted to the dim light. A side room he built himself served as their private vault. All of their most dangerous artifacts and books were contained in that space. The echo of his fresh wards were easily detected by one who knew what to look for. Careful to undo his wards without setting off any kind of alarm or nasty defensive spell, she was able to open the door with little trouble. Either he trusted her to not use anything that they stored down there against him or it was all an elaborate plot to catch her doing something she shouldn't. No matter. She wasn't afraid of him.

Due to rarely needing to be down in that room, it was neglected and dusty. Some of the objects contained within were fickle. Scouring charms could damage them so they didn't worry too much about harmless dirt for most of their treasures. Based on the dust floating in the air, she could tell that he'd opened a small trunk in the corner. Checking to make sure there weren't any other spells used to protect the contents, she cautiously lifted the lid.

A fluid-like silvery cloth laid across the other items within caught her attention immediately. She knew that cloth. Very, very well. For years she wondered whatever happened to the Cloak of Invisibility after Harry died. When had it come into her husband's possession? Surely he would've told her! She didn't dare touch it. Not yet. If Antonin suspected that she knew about it, he might move it somewhere she didn't know about and she might need it later.

At least now she finally understood how he was able to approach Augustus' house three times without her seeing him once. What else had he been doing with the cloak?