July 18th

Compiling a list of all of the incidents in the past when she was confused was a surprisingly daunting task that depressed Hermione soon after she began. There had been so many. Each one was just as embarrassing and confusing as the last. She hoped that she would never have an occasion to experience another. Screaming out for Harry in the middle of Lord Voldemort's funeral was the worst of all. It was a good thing that she had no desire to remain in their society any longer. She wouldn't be able to hold her head up high if she wanted to stay.

She took advantage of having nothing else to do to sit at the kitchen table and write. Details bled onto the parchment. Some she'd even forgotten in her humiliation. Like the time she was walking alone down the corridor outside of the Department of Mysteries at least five years earlier. Disoriented in the semi-darkness that always permeated that eerie corridor, she remembered calling out for Luna and Neville and all of the others that were there during the battle that ensued after Harry retrieved the prophecy. She wasn't entirely sure how long she was down there before the Muggle-born Head of the Magical Maintenance department she always respected found her. He waved it off as her working too hard and needing some more sleep to her relief. She still wasn't sure what happened to the wizard. Maybe he was caught up in one of the countless purges that affected the Ministry over the years.

The second list of all of the memories she suspected were tampered with was much shorter. Like she told her husband when he asked her weeks earlier why she hadn't been checking her memories in the pensieve downstairs, she wasn't entirely certain that all of her memories weren't somehow altered. Maybe everything she thought was reality was just a figment of her warped and damaged imagination. Wouldn't it be horrifying to come to only to realize she'd spent the last twenty years stuck in the Janus Thickey Ward? Or even worse, that she was still inside the broom cupboard in Hogwarts Castle she'd been chucked into minutes after the battle ended? She had to push those depressing thoughts aside. As difficult and painful as her life had been for twenty years, she just couldn't bring herself to imagine that she was that insane.

To keep from being asked questions she didn't want to answer, Hermione waited until Antonin snuck out of the house for the day to retrieve the vials of potions that Mr. Akingbade requested. The ones in the drawer in their shared bathroom were easy enough to get. Despite his repeated requests that she consider taking another when she was agitated or overwhelmed, there were plenty left. He likely wouldn't even notice that a couple were gone. She chose the strawberry-flavored potion, wanting to know immediately if it was helpful or harmful. Considering what she'd learned about her husband since she returned to Hogsmeade from her year on the run, she was more inclined to believe that he was just trying to help. Having an independent party verify that would make her feel better. She also selected one of the vials of the potion he made her drink when she was having one of her bad episodes, the ones that made her sleep for at least a day each time.

She waited until Oliver was engrossed in one of the books he was assigned for summer reading on the sofa in the lounge before she set about the less savory task of rooting out her hidden vials of illicit potion. Twenty years in the house gave her plenty of opportunities to find new places to hide small bottles. It was likely that Antonin uncovered some of her hiding places over time, but she knew there was no way he would've been able to find them all. Loose floorboards, hollow bricks, easy to unscrew vent covers, and several magically concealed compartments were scattered around the house. Taking the better part of an hour, Hermione was able to retrieve all that she could remember. Upstairs in her bathroom, she upended every single vial but one into the sink. Even though it had been over a year since she last tasted the burn of the cinnamon-flavored potion making its way down her throat, she was tempted to forget the promise she made to never drink another. When only one vial remained, she slipped it into her pocket with the other two vials, hoping that she would have the self-control required to not touch it before her next session with Mr. Akingbade.

Just before the sun went down for the night Antonin returned home. She didn't have the first clue where her husband spent his time outside of their sanctuary. Part of her longed to know all of the details of what was happening out there while she and their son remained locked up under heavy wards. Most of her, however, simply tried to ignore the frightening circumstances she might find if she stepped outside. The power struggle for the new head of the regime likely had already begun. Her husband returning safely home each night was all the information she needed in that moment. Perhaps her feelings would change the longer she was locked inside.

Her brother-in-law returned with their guest only minutes after sunset. Neither man wanted to waste a single moment, but it was important that they not arrive too early in the evening. Not only was Babajide Akingbade not technically even allowed in the country, he was once seen as an enemy of the regime. That fact likely hadn't changed yet. They could all be in danger if he was discovered to be visiting their home. What the implications might be for Antonin's future in the war for succession was unknown.

"Lovely to see you again as always, Hermione."

Alain kissed her cheek moments after entering their kitchen.

"We would've been here sooner, but there was an issue at the safe house that needed to be taken care of first."

His elder brother's eyes narrowed at the announcement.

"What sort of issue?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about, Big Brother. Our host had an unexpected visitor drop in to see him. Babajide and I were able to sneak out the backdoor."

"Where is your safe house? Who is the host?"

It was impossible to miss all three men sharing a private glance with each other. When no one offered up an answer to her question, Hermione gave up. She didn't want to waste any time that night. Not when she had the possibility of regaining some of her memories. They could keep their secret for the time being.

Shortly after returning to the attic bedroom and resuming their same seats as before, Hermione reached into her pocket to pull out the three vials she'd been carrying around all day. She explained to him which vial contained which potion. After a silent sniff of each, he tucked them into his own pocket.

"Let's take a look at the lists I asked you to make."

He read over each of them and asked several questions. While she knew that it was all part of the process intended to get not only the memory charms removed from her mind, but to help her regain memories she'd lost, Hermione found herself quickly growing impatient. No doubt her frustration was evident in her tone. To his credit, Mr. Akingbade continued examining the lists at his own pace. Clearly, he wasn't intimidated by Hermione. After so many years of having almost everyone who crossed her path be afraid of her, she found it slightly refreshing, if still a bit frustrating. Finally, when she thought she was on the verge of ripping the parchment out of his hands, he lowered it to his lap and met her eyes.

"Before we get started, I want to remind you that once we start messing about with the charms and spells, we can't stop. You may start to have dreams of your true memories or flashes throughout the day. Understood?"

"Yes, of course."

"Excellent. Now, I'd like to explore the very first night that you had what you called an 'episode'. The older the spell, the more fragile. It might seem like it should be the opposite, but memory charms are delicate and they don't follow the same rules that other magic does. To keep a memory charm strong, it must be continuously reapplied and strengthened."

Mr. Akingbade tapped the side of her head with his wand. Almost instantly she felt his gentle presence inside her head. Disconcerting to say the least, he was careful in his movements. The only times she had someone else enter her mind so boldly was the Dark Lord and he'd never been so thoughtful and kind. He ripped what he wanted to see out without care to the pain it caused the victim. While she didn't particularly care for anyone looking inside her mind, she much preferred the memory charms expert to her late master.

"Focus on the night you woke up and thought that your husband was there to hurt you for the first time. Remember the details. Call forth the memory. When I begin untangling the interconnected threads, it will feel strange. Just relax. Just relax and let me do all of the work for you."

'Strange' was hardly a good enough word to describe the sensation that she experienced when she first recalled the night about a month or so into her marriage that she and her husband first realized there might be something seriously wrong with her. Trying to calm herself as he bade, Hermione didn't care for the way her breathing became more shallow and her head felt woozy and light. Finally she understood why he didn't want to start during his last visit. Her weary mind wouldn't have taken it well. Her well-rested mind was struggling enough.

Bits and pieces of that night began to trickle through her consciousness. Calling out for Harry. Antonin pushing the hair away from her face. Her screams as she recognized the man next to her in bed. The struggle. Kicking Antonin in a sensitive spot. Screaming out for help.

A sharp tugging in her mind was difficult to ignore. While the images she could remember sped through her mind with an increasing rapidity, she could feel an awareness of something that felt like a string pulling. At what? She couldn't be certain. Starting to worry and grow anxious, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath and calm. Another tug and the forgotten memory burst forth.

She was in Edinburgh. How she knew that was because she would never forget that mission for the rest of her life. Rodolphus was assigned to teach her about reconnaissance. Her skills were woefully lacking due to the fact that she found it entirely too boring. She grew too impatient. Action was much more her forte. Considering he was one of the most patient and calm Death Eaters in the Inner Circle, he'd been give the task to teach.

They only just barely escaped from what was a Resistance ambush. Adrenaline was running high. The information they were sent to find wasn't discovered. Once they were able to return to their homes, they could begin writing their mission reports. The Dark Lord would want to know first thing in the morning whether or not they were successful. Neither one them was looking forward to the moment when one of them had to confess that their cover was blown and the Resistance would no longer be in the same area again. At least one of them was looking at the Cruciatus Curse for their failure.

In an area of the city filled with unsuspecting Muggles, they were as safe as they were likely to be until they returned to a region of the country that was run by the regime. Still, they took their time moving through the crowded streets. Night had fallen and there were lots of dark corners.

"You've been married what? Six weeks now? How's married life treating you?"

Hermione bit back a snort at Rodolphus' question. Of all people, he should understand how miserable a forced marriage could be. Though it might not have started off as an arranged marriage, his union with Bellatrix went sour quickly. Each of them longed for a divorce, but that was simply something that was not done in their society. Not without a horrific scandal.

"It's dreadful. Antonin is insistent that I get pregnant immediately. I can hardly walk into my own home without getting assaulted."

Rodolphus' laugh always made her want to join in.

"You've got to admit there are worse fates than that, Hermione."

"Maybe. What about you? Why were you never forced to remarry like the rest of us poor sods?"

"Because I had a bad case of spattergroit as a child. I'm no longer able to father children."

She hadn't meant to have him reveal such a personal fact about himself. It had been an innocent enough question. In an effort to not make the conversation turn awkward, she tried to make a joke to lighten the mood.

"Well, I don't want to have children. Maybe I should've married you instead of Antonin."

One swift motion had Hermione pinned up against a brick wall in a darkened corner. Her companion, her teacher for the evening pressed his body against hers. His lips curled into a wicked smirk that made her stomach flip. Did he have any idea how attractive he was?

"Now that could've been fun for both of us."

As if he needed to prove his point, Rodolphus' lips hungrily sought out hers. The kiss was passionate and unexpected. Lasting only a few short moments, when they broke it off, Hermione playfully slapped his arm with a laugh.

"Tease."

The memory alteration ended there. Each of them Disapparated out of the city and went their separate ways for the night to work on their individual reports. Only hours later she woke up in the middle of the night screaming for her lost friends.

"And was that a memory that you don't remember?"

"I remember going to Edinburgh with Rodolphus and I thought I remembered every detail from that trip, but to my knowledge, he'd never kissed me before. Nor since."

Babajide Akingbade ended their session. She'd had enough for one night. Her mind needed to rest.