July 10th

Unlike the morning days earlier when she stayed in bed because she was still healing from her latest in a long line of concussions, Hermione didn't have a good reason to remain underneath the covers in the bed she shared with her husband. She had no desire to go back into the Ministry again, possibly ever. Even though the crippling fear that she was headed towards a painful death from the morning before was no longer present, she still was reluctant to climb out of her sanctuary. She'd never been hurt before inside her bed… not unless she asked for it in clear terms. When she wasn't having a rare adventurous encounter with her insatiable husband, she could hide from the world in their bedroom.

None of her questions from the day before had even begun to be answered. She didn't have the first clue who might have covered up for her down in Level Eleven. It would have to be someone with power and influence, someone who actually knew what she'd been up to. Other than the man who escaped, the only person who knew what she'd done was Draco. His curious mind asked a number of questions about the details of the escape when they were alone in his flat's bathtub. She told him everything, down to where she got the idea for the love potion spiked chocolates. Evidently, satisfaction of the carnal kind loosened her lips every bit as much as alcohol loosened Antonin's. She would need to remember to be careful in the future.

But, Draco had no power in the Ministry. Even if he did, he would never risk publicly exposing his connection with her. As far as the majority of the world was concerned, they were simply old acquaintances from school who had no reason to ever speak. Certainly they'd never been able to hold a conversation in public for very long. No, she knew Draco had nothing to do with the cover-up.

She was exhausted with worry that everything was about to come crashing down on her head. It was unsettling to be in someone's debt and have no clue who that person was. Would she be expected to reciprocate in some manner? What if the price she had to pay for the expected assistance wasn't something she could afford?

Antonin was worried when he came back out of the bathroom following his shower to find his wife still in bed with seemingly little motivation to change that fact. She was rarely one who desired having a lie-in and never on a workday. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, and she knew she wasn't putting in a lot of effort that morning, he could always tell when something was weighing her down. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pushed a wayward lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

She almost missed the days when they used to never speak. Perhaps the tension made for an unhappy home at times, but at least he left her alone. She didn't know how to explain what was wrong with her. How was she supposed to tell him that she was nervous about returning to the Ministry because someone covered up her crime of aiding an inmate, a notorious Resistance leader no less, in escaping? Even she didn't know what Antonin's reaction to that would be. Thanks to whatever was wrong with her memories, her husband wasn't exactly the man she always thought he was.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

He didn't like her answer. Probably didn't even believe the words she spoke. He knew how stubborn and tight-lipped she could be when it suited her, so without another word of concern he stood up from the bed. Still dressed only in his towel wrapped around his waist, he walked out of their bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack.

She burrowed down further into her covers with him gone. Lying used to come second-nature to her before she ran away. And she still was able to keep some secrets. Why then was she having so much trouble not blurting out to Antonin exactly what had her bothered and upset? She didn't think there was anything she could do to make her husband hate her. Well, except where it came to his children, but she pushed those thoughts away. Even if she killed the Dark Lord with her own hands right in front of him, he wouldn't turn her in. Especially not to someone as cruel as Rabastan. No, he would stop at nothing to make sure she wasn't implicated in a crime or arrested. Maybe that was why she was so eager to tell him what she did and why she was afraid. But, if she started that confession, she wouldn't be able to stop until she told him everything about her connection with the Resistance. She already spent too much time that year believing that he'd harmed members of a family that took care of her when she needed help. Knowing that he hurt someone else would've been too much to bear. It was important that she not tell him anything.

Through the cracked door she heard their heavy front door open and close. Considering her husband left their bedroom dressed in nothing more than a wet towel, she didn't think he was the one leaving the house so early. When he entered the bedroom moments later, her suspicions were confirmed. The Dolohovs might have been an atypical family, even amongst the Death Eaters, but they weren't that inappropriate.

"Where's Ollie?"

"I sent him to Thorfinn's for breakfast. Hannah will be happy to feed him and Thorfinn's always saying there should be more men in their house."

She knew that was the truth. Thorfinn longed for a son almost as strongly as Antonin longed for a daughter. The massive giant of a man was something like an uncle to their son. Always excited to spend time with him and usually get him into at least a little bit of trouble. Both of his parents knew without question that either one of the Rowles would fight to the death to protect their son from harm just as they would protect their daughters.

"Do you need a potion?"

"No, I'm fine."

Even if a potion sounded lovely, she was determined to stand by her decision that she would take no more.

"Are you going in today?"

"I should, but I don't want to. Just leave me alone, Antonin."

Turning over onto her other side to stare at the middle of the otherwise empty bed, she hoped that would be enough of a clue to her husband that she was in no mood to discuss what it was that had her upset. Still clad in only his towel and not caring one bit that she didn't want him there, Antonin climbed onto the bed in his usual place. She sighed, feeling defeated that there was not a way that she was going to be able to get out of having at least some kind of conversation with him before he left her in peace. The man could be annoyingly tenacious.

As he stared at her waiting for her to let her guard down even for a single moment, Hermione thought about all of the times over the years they'd laid in bed together talking. Some of the best conversations of her entire life took place right where she was laying. They could talk for hours if they had the right topic… and they weren't distracted by more primal acts of communication. She tried to push away the reminder that she'd been alone in bed with another man only days earlier. Once again she wished she could love him the way he loved her. How much happier would their lives have been?

"Now will you please tell me what has you so upset?"

The pleading in his eyes proved that he was serious. She knew that he wouldn't give up until he got some sort of answer that satisfied him. He could be obnoxiously tenacious. It was yet another trait of theirs that they had in common. Perhaps the biggest reason why she struggled to fall in love with him the way he wished was because of their similarities. She didn't always care for how she was reflected back when she looked at him. It made ignoring what a horrible person she'd become over the past twenty years impossible to ignore. Sometimes she just wanted to forget that she wasn't the same girl she was when Harry was alive.

But, she also couldn't deny the fact that there was no one else alive that she felt more comfortable confiding in. When he was nothing more than just her teacher, years before they were ordered to wed, she considered Antonin one of her closest friends, if not her very best friend. There used to be nothing they couldn't talk about. Not until she understood what his true feelings were for her and she learned how she could use them against him for her benefit. She didn't like all of the changes her personality went through since the end of the last war.

"I did something wrong, Antonin. Something that could get me in a great deal of trouble if anyone finds out."

"What did you do?"

"I can't tell you. You'll be in the same danger. One of us needs to be all right if this goes terribly."

He didn't like being brushed off even if he could understand why she didn't want to tell him. A few times over the years they'd each been involved in various situations where they couldn't share the details of their problems with the other out of fear of them becoming implicated as well. Veritaserum and repeated bouts of the Cruciatus Curse were effective methods. To show that he wasn't upset with her, Antonin ran his fingertips along her chin. She closed her eyes at the feel of his touch.

"Rabastan is suspicious. He's been acting strangely around me the last several days… since I was attacked."

"This involves Umbridge?"

"I'm not telling you, Antonin. Stop asking. But, he's been suspicious. Yesterday I found out that someone, and I haven't the faintest clue who it might be… someone with a great deal of influence in the Ministry covered for me. I may not be in trouble with Rabastan any longer, but I could be in trouble with whomever it was that fixed what I broke."

Antonin closed the distance between them on the bed to brush his lips against hers. His silent show of support was exactly what she needed to feel some of the weight that had been hanging around her neck to lessen. It was entirely possible that whomever it was that helped her had no nefarious agenda. Maybe, like Draco, they owed their lives to Aberforth and wanted him saved just as much. Or, perhaps less likely, they owed their lives to her and were actually repaying her for a past favor. No matter which it was, or even if it was nothing like that at all, she didn't see the sense in continuing to worry. It was done. She had to live with the consequences.

"I will support you no matter what, Hermione. Doesn't matter what you did. You have my support."

"Thank you."

"But… you should never let someone like Rabastan scare you away. He feeds off of that power. You can't afford to let him know that he's upset you."

He was absolutely correct. She hated giving Rabastan power and what was she doing by allowing him to get in her head? In her feeble effort to thank Antonin for his support, she kissed him back. It didn't take long before they were both thankful that he had the foresight to send their son to the neighbors'.