June 23rd

Another sleepless night plagued the Dolohovs. Following their short meeting with the Dark Lord, they returned to their home in Hogsmeade without speaking. Only inside the safety of their own walls did they discuss what happened. Each of them gladly drank a full glass of fire whiskey. More followed.

Hermione desperately hoped that she would never be called in front of their master again. It used to be bad enough when he had enough strength to keep up the glamours that held his true condition in secret from his followers. Without the glamours, she knew that she would likely have nightmares about his countenance for the rest of her life. Even long after he was dead she would never forget the smell of his rotting corpse.

When they were both calmer, Antonin kissed his wife and made his excuses to leave. She didn't ask him for details of his plans. It was possible that he wanted nothing more than to just be alone for a few hours. There was fear etched into his face that she'd never seen before. Something was bothering him that he wasn't willing to speak to her about just yet. She never felt more unnerved than when she knew her husband was afraid. Somehow that seemed unnatural, wrong.

She used his absence to return to London to check on her potion. Draco did not drop by while she was there. Whether she was disappointed or not was still unclear. Their conversation from the day before left her with more questions than answers. It was a common problem in her life that she was beginning to accept with resignation. At least being alone gave her the opportunity to dissect her meeting with the Dark Lord and try to calm her still racing heart.

Her husband didn't return from his mysterious mission until sometime after midnight. Hermione was already in bed and half-asleep. It had taken several more glasses of fire whiskey when she got back from London to relax her enough that she thought sleep might be a possibility. She didn't make it obvious that she was still awake as Antonin tiptoed around their bedroom. Though he was quiet on his feet, she heard every movement. Even when he slipped into the bathroom to take a long shower, her ears remained perked up listening to everything he did. One didn't spend so many years sleeping next to a person and sharing their lives without learning how to pay attention to their odd moods.

Even when they were both finally in bed, she didn't make it obvious that she was awake. Something was troubling her husband. As much as she wanted to know what it was, she was nervous. Once she learned what it was, she couldn't go back to being ignorant. What if he was finally going to be honest with her about everything she missed and didn't know about? Would she even want to have that much knowledge? It could make her life even more difficult than it already was.

She must have been able to doze at some point in the night. Whatever sleep she was able to get was far from restful, but there had to have been some. The slight shaking of the mattress jarred her fully awake. Worried at first that something was wrong, Hermione rolled over to stare at Antonin's side of the bed. He was staring at the ceiling, his thoughts miles away. Unable to explain why exactly she remained concerned for him, she found herself moving slowly across the space between them. When he realized she was awake and moving towards him, Antonin lifted his arm to give her the chance to snuggle up to his side. She rested her head on his chest, hearing the pounding of his heart.

"I didn't believe you when you told me how bad he was."

Antonin sighed, tightening his arm around his wife's back. With a kiss to the top of her head, he relaxed the smallest amount.

"I'd hoped that you wouldn't have to see him in that condition. I'm still not sure why he wanted you there in the first place."

"Because he wanted to see for himself that I was really there. He uses me to control you, Antonin. He always has. I'm your weakness."

Hermione didn't mean to be so blunt. The words simply trickled off her tongue. But, she was startled to discover that once they were said, she didn't mind. Neither, it seemed, did Antonin. His arm squeezed her body and he kissed the top of her head once more.

"Yes, you are."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. It was enough that they were touching and gathering strength from the other. Not for the first time in her life, Hermione wished that she'd been able to fall in love with her husband the way he had fallen for her. Their lives together would've been so much easier. Or, perhaps, it would've been more difficult considering the tasks they were often charged with completing. Not that it mattered. They would never know which was true.

"I don't understand how the Dark Lord is still alive."

"Neither do I. We don't have to worry long about him. It'll happen soon. I just hope that we can be ready for what's coming. It won't be easy."

Few times in their marriage had Antonin been truly vulnerable with her. Admitting that she was indeed his weakness was no small moment. One did not reveal their weaknesses unless they wished to have them used against them. She could use his admission to her advantage if she so desired. Rabastan was already seeking out what he could do to use it to his. Remembering a recent moment where he showed himself vulnerable again, Hermione blurted out a question she'd been holding on to for weeks.

"You said you helped him with the dark magic he was using. What did you do exactly?"

She could feel every muscle in her husband's body tense at the inquiry. When he made his confession that night she was refilling his glass over and over again, he'd almost been in tears. His dark brown eyes were misty and his complexion took on an unnatural pallor. Perhaps he didn't remember being so blunt. It would explain his discomfort. He didn't immediately answer. Just as she believed that she'd crossed a line that he would follow her across, he spoke.

"You were right that he used to drink a potion made from unicorn blood. When Macnair disappeared, he no longer had access to the blood. Not everyone is capable, or willing, to hunt them like Walden. He was always a sick bastard. Something else had to be found instead."

Antonin's fingertips idly brushed the bare skin of her arm as he offered the beginning of his long answer. She found it distracting, but not enough to force him to stop. Maybe he needed the comfort of human touch to be honest with her about his actions. She'd certainly endured worse in the hopes of obtaining some information in the past.

"Someone offered him a suggestion for something else he could try. I didn't know who at the time, but I've since learned that it was Theodore Nott who told him of the power that could be leeched from…" He swallowed, the sound loud in their ears because of the silence of the room. "… children."

It shouldn't have surprised Hermione that their master would sink to disturbing levels to ensure his immortality. This was a monster that tried to kill a baby in his crib. But, no matter the fact that she should've expected the worst, she was still horrified. The arm she had draped across Antonin's chest tensed and her hand tightened its grip on his side.

"Theodore said that young witches were the most valuable for the spells. It was preferable that they were used before their tenth birthday. After that, they apparently get too close to puberty to be nearly as effective. Wizards can be used if no witches are available, but the magic is more powerful with girls. He wished to surpass me in the Dark Lord's eyes and favor by offering up his three granddaughters for the privilege of sustaining his life."

"Fucking bastard."

"Theo, as you can imagine, proved to be a hindrance in his plan. Lucky for Theodore that his son was killed in the explosion."

"Not lucky at all. Rabastan and I are having him arrested next week. We believe he's responsible for the Leaky Cauldron. All leads keep coming right back to him."

Her husband let out a relieved exhale. She knew that she could trust him to keep her secrets. Even if they weren't on the best of terms, Antonin hated Nott enough to not stand in the way of his arrest. Likely he even hoped that she would make him suffer in his interrogation. Hermione had every intention of doing as he wished.

"Good. Then Theo's girls should be safe."

"I'd love to see him try to take Millicent's girls away from her. She's not someone who needs to be underestimated."

"No, she's not. You're absolutely right, but I still feel more at peace knowing that they won't be harmed. I've been spending months trying to figure out what I could do to keep them safe without it being obvious what I was doing."

Antonin truly was a surprising man. There was a great deal about her own husband that Hermione hadn't taken the time to discover in the years they were married. Had he always been like that and she just didn't notice? Or was that a change in him that only occurred recently?

"You still haven't answered my question. What did you do, Antonin?"

She could hear his heart rate increase. It pounded loudly in her ear.

"I was summoned to the castle just a few weeks after you left. The Dark Lord had taken a turn. He was weak, unable to use a glamour or even walk. Theodore was there looking very proud of himself. Said it was the perfect night to put his theories into practice. The Dark Lord was pleased. I didn't know what they were talking about, but because he wasn't strong enough to hide his true condition, he didn't want anyone but the two of us there to attend him. Didn't want anyone to see how weak he'd become.

"Theodore excused himself from the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he was levitating two little girls in front of him. They were silenced, but they were crying and screaming. I don't know who they were, who their parents were. Maybe it's best that I don't."

Every word he spoke grew more difficult to utter. He'd never made it a secret that he desired little else in his life than to have a daughter. As much as he loved and adored their son, he didn't feel like their family was complete. To know that the tiny girls were ripped from their families and about to be sacrificed in some horrible way to ensure his master continued existing in his rotting body had to have been unbearable.

"We had to… Hermione, I can't bear to say it."

"Shh, it's all right."

He seemed to relax slightly under her attempt at comfort. She ran her hand up and down his chest, hoping that she was helping. A swift peck on his flesh encouraged him to continue.

"We had to cut their hearts from their chests while they were still breathing. I wanted to refuse, but that would've meant my death, Ollie's death, and yours too whenever you were found. The girls would still be dead no matter what I did."

"You protected your son."

"And at what cost? Theodore thought it was funny that the little witch he gave me had your hair. Laughed and said, 'Doesn't she look just like… just like what your daughter might look like?'"

The tears that he was trying so hard to keep under control came rushing out in a torrent that took both of their breaths away. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever seen him cry about anything. Not truly. And certainly not in great big sobs. Even the day he revealed to her what really happened when she fell down the stairs, he'd been able to compose himself somewhat. All she could do was sit up and hold her husband in her arms while he relived what was likely the worst moment of his entire life.

"I'll never forgive myself. He was right. She did. I'm so ashamed."

As Hermione continued to comfort her distraught husband, she came to the conclusion that no matter what happened in the future when Lord Voldemort finally died, she couldn't let Antonin rise up in his place. Becoming the Dark Lord would break him. Destroy him.