June 16th

Antonin's unexplained poor mood persisted the rest of Friday night and well into Saturday leaving his wife confused and more than a little annoyed. Ordinarily, he would give Hermione at least some indication of what was wrong. Was this to be yet another delightful facet of her husband's personality she missed developing over the year she was gone? It seemed that every time she turned around there was something new to discover about the man she thought she knew. Had she really been so out of touch with reality thanks to the illegal potions she used to drink with shocking regularity?

The real indicator that he was upset by something she did, or didn't do, was the fact that he kept to his own side of the bed. Most nights she couldn't even move without accidentally brushing against him. He liked to stay as close to her as possible. In the past when she'd made him mad, he would either spend the night in Andromeda's flat or he would refuse to touch his wife. With Andromeda dead and no replacement she was aware of yet, his only option was to stick to the edge and hope he didn't tumble off into the floor.

Hermione didn't have the first clue what he was upset about, but she didn't let it bother her. He'd always been unpredictable. Maybe he was upset that she chose to go to work when he asked her to stay home in bed with him instead. Or he was angry about something she did seven years earlier that he suddenly remembered again. It could be anything. She didn't have the energy to try to read his mind.

It was easier to avoid him when he was acting so strangely. Less chance to get caught up in his temper. After a late breakfast where he refused to even look in her direction, Hermione had had enough. Standing to her feet in a movement that might be considered a tad dramatic, she announced her intention to run a few errands in London. Any excuse to get her away from the infuriating man. Besides, it would give her a chance to check on her potion. She couldn't afford to have another weekend like the one before where she forgot to check on it. Each day that ticked on brought her closer to her goal. It was too reckless to endanger the potion when she was so close to finishing it.

"Don't forget we have Nott's wedding reception this evening."

Even though it was childish, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the reminder from her husband. As if it were possible to forget that she was required to attend such a dismal event. It would be her first formal social engagement since she returned. Antonin might have been able to keep her away from the Death Eater meetings, but to not attend the reception of a member of the Inner Circle would be an insult of the highest order. Though they might have desired to be anywhere else in the world, the Dolohovs would be there with insincere smiles on their faces to congratulate the unhappy couple.

Just as it always seemed to happen when one was dreading an upcoming unpleasant task, Saturday passed by too quickly for Hermione's liking. Long before she was ready to face the ugliness that was a high society event in their regime, she was standing in the kitchen with her husband dressed in their finest dress robes while they waited for the invitation portkey to activate. Theodore Nott was gleefully throwing out his galleons and his political influence to show off. Very few people were allowed to have authorized portkeys. If he was willing to spend so much on just the invitations, she could hardly imagine what the rest of the wretched reception would be like.

"You'll actually have to stand close enough for me to hold on to the portkey if you want me to go with you."

Hours away from Antonin had only slightly improved his mood. She was half-tempted to slap the man and tell him to get over whatever it was that was bothering him. Didn't they each have enough to worry about without him doing his best impression of a spoiled teenage girl who didn't get her way? He stepped closer, allowing her to take hold of the edge only moments before they were whisked away to the site of the reception.

Hermione spent the first few seconds of their arrival simply trying to calm her nerves. After being away for so long, she wasn't sure that she was going to be at the top of her game that night. There was a great deal of intrigue that accompanied those horrid social occasions. She would have to be very careful what she said and to whom she said it to. Over the years she managed to learn all of the intricate rules and nuances thanks to her teacher. Antonin taught her from the very beginning how to read the people they were doomed to spend the rest of their existences around. His lessons had been invaluable. Yet again, she knew she would need to call upon something he taught her to survive the night.

Everyone who was anyone was present. Guests were arriving in regular intervals to fill up the manicured grounds of the Nott Estate. From an old family that could proudly claim to be a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Theodore Nott had more money than sense, according to her husband. With almost as much money as the Malfoys, they were able to buy influence easily over the generations. Like the Dolohovs, all of the guests wore their finest clothes and many of the women were dripping with jewels. It was how many of the richest families showed off their wealth. Hermione was thankful that Antonin never saw the need to drape her in diamonds. She was far more than a simple trophy to him. Remembering their wedding night when he made it clear that he wanted her as a partner, she looked up at him and smiled. Taken aback, he softened his expression just the slightest and took her hand in his to face the crowds. She was grateful that he wasn't going to shut her out all night. It was so much easier to navigate the dangerous social waters with him by her side.

The guests were expected to wait their turn to congratulate Theodore and the newest Mrs. Nott in a receiving line at the entrance to the estate. Instead of subjecting the masses to the farce of a wedding service, the groom only requested they be there to celebrate the event that no one else wanted. Hermione felt sorrow for the poor girl weighted down by the massive diamonds from the Nott family vault. She couldn't be more than eighteen years old newly married to a wizard in his late nineties. Even as she tried to keep a bright smile on her face, it was evident that she was terrified. What sort of cruelties was she going to be subjected to? The older witch didn't even want to fathom. Yes, her own marriage had been coerced, but at least she had had the opportunity to do some living before it was. And, it wasn't as if she was shackled to a grotesque. Considering wizarding genes, Antonin wasn't that much older than his bride and he was still quite handsome. There were worse fates. Mrs. Nott was a testament to that fact.

Theodore made quite the production of greeting the Dolohovs when they finally made it to the end of the queue. To her husband's credit, Antonin was able to remain as gracious and respectful as one should be in the same situation. Hermione expected to see the slightest bit of deference on Theodore's part due to the high status that her husband held thanks to his proximity to the Dark Lord, but to her surprise, Nott was almost dismissive of the man that would likely be his next master after the inevitable downfall of their current. It was subtle, of course. Overtly insulting Antonin would be too dangerous. Theodore knew the fine line he couldn't cross. If there was any confusion as to where his loyalties lie, it was cleared up in the short interaction. Hermione met Antonin's eye as they walked away, glad to be free from the arduous expectation. What he didn't say out loud with a single look could fill volumes. When they were home alone, she knew he would be more vocal about his thoughts.

"I need a drink or I'll never make it through this horrible evening. Would you like one?"

"Please… a big one."

The corner of her mouth curled up at his empathic request. Usually he tried to keep a sober head about him in public, but she wouldn't begrudge him one drink at least. The whole affair was akin to torture and as the resident expert on pain, she should know. She sought out the bar. Ignoring every single person who crossed her path, Hermione didn't stop until she was standing in front of the tables piled high with fire whiskey. Knocking one back in its entirety first, she grabbed one for each hand to return to Antonin's side. When she turned around, she almost fell into the chest of a wizard standing much too close.

"Hello, Hermione. It's been a long time."

She knew the moment would eventually come when she would have to speak to Ron again. They'd spent twenty years avoiding each other whenever possible, but they were never able to completely stay away. Lord Voldemort's plan to keep them as his prized puppets prevented that. Once upon a time they had been close friends. She'd even hoped that after the final battle their one kiss could've turned into many. It wasn't meant to be. She was thrown into her broom cupboard and he was dragged away to his own prison. Neither of them were the same people they used to be and they never would be again.

"Hi, Ron. If you'll excuse me, my husband is expecting me."

His gentle grab of her elbow stopped her from progressing any further. Ron lowered his voice to keep those around them from hearing what he had to say.

"And are you planning on always being at your husband's side?"

Considering Rabastan was his mentor and they were still very close, it wasn't a stretch to imagine that Ronald was on his side. Likely they would find themselves allies again if she took her Co-Head up on his offer to join his faction. She decided to be honest.

"I haven't made up my mind about the future."

"Don't wait too long to decide. You don't want to risk being on the losing side again."

Even though it lasted only a couple of minutes, Hermione was unnerved by the entire exchange with her former friend. She rushed to Antonin with their drinks, relieved to be away from Ron. It didn't take much to remind her why it was that she no longer had any use for him. She desired nothing more than to leave the horrible reception. Unfortunately, she knew that they would have to stay longer to avoid creating a scandal. Keeping up appearances was important to keep their slim hold on their position.

Antonin seemed to thaw ever so slightly after the first sip of his fire whiskey. Slipping her arm through his, Hermione knew that playing the supportive wife was the best way to ensure they both made it out of there in one piece. Her husband appreciated the gesture, but still remained cold. She still didn't know what she'd done to upset him. Maybe she would never learn.

The Dolohovs moved through the crowd of guests playing the game perfectly.