July 22nd

When her next session with Babajide Akingbade came around, Hermione wasn't ready to tell him what she uncovered in her dreams after he gave her the potion. It was too raw, too embarrassing. She had yet to really make any sense of what happened. Clearly, she had her culprit. For whatever reason, and she certainly couldn't even begin to fathom what that was, Rodolphus had been placing memory charms on her for years. Of all of the people in the entire world that she would've suspected of such a horrendous crime, her old friend never even came into the top one hundred. That's why he'd been so successful. She would've given her life in defense of his. Never would she imagine what he was capable of.

"Did the potion help to open up your mind?"

She wanted to tell him that it didn't because she was afraid that he would ask her for details. Her dream journal was already in his possession. At the beginning of the session before they even began, he requested the opportunity to take a look at it. After her dream about Oliver's birthday party and the events leading up to the brutal stabbing of her husband, she was too ashamed to write down what she saw. It wasn't likely that she was going to forget it any time soon anyway. Keeping a record would only give Mr. Akingbade more fuel for his case against her. Despite him claiming that he was only there to help, her suspicious mind kept returning to fears and worries that this was all just some sort of trap set up by the very people who wanted her out of the way. Wouldn't it have just been easier to kill her? She was exhausted of the games.

"Yes, I'm well-rested and my dreams were much more vivid."

"And yet, there are only a few lines written down about them."

It was her lot in life to be surrounded by perceptive men. Hermione wished that just once she might have a man in her life who was as clueless and unobservant as the men that were frequently caricatured by the rest of the world. It was one more reason to long for the days when her constant companions were two boys that weren't even aware of what was happening in the same room they sat. Once it frustrated her that Harry could be so oblivious to his own surroundings and to the feelings of others that he cared about.

"You are ashamed of what you saw in them."

Mr. Akingbade wasn't asking a question. He knew. And because he knew, she couldn't deny the truth. Hermione nodded, but gave no other indication that she wished to reveal what she knew. Couldn't some things about her life be kept private? Even after she'd given the wizard permission to dig around in her most private of organs and seek out what had been hidden even from her view, wasn't she entitled to keep at least something to herself?

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who has been doing this as long as I have."

His features might have been impassive, but experience dealing with people in the midst of terrible interrogations taught her a lot about what people weren't saying. It bothered her that she knew that he was judging her for the past choices she made to remain alive. Usually, the opinions of other people didn't matter much to her. She was the one that had to make the tough choices when her world crumbled after the murder of her best friend. If she hadn't been willing to do what was difficult, she wouldn't have survived as long as she had. Was self-preservation really so awful of a character flaw?

"Yes, well, we can't exactly go back in time to fix our mistakes, can we?"

Her remark came out sharper than she intended. She loathed when she sounded weak. Not offended by her tone, Mr. Akingbade lifted a hand to stop her from going into a full-blown rant.

"I meant no offense, Hermione. Scratch the surface of any person you meet and you will find parts about their past that they do not like."

She felt sufficiently shamed. It wasn't his fault that they were entering into sensitive territory. But, if she truly wanted him to be able to help her, she knew that she would have to be honest.

"I'm not sure what all my husband has told you during your private meetings." She put the emphasis on the private to make it clear that she didn't care for them speaking about her when she wasn't around. In her experience, what people were unwilling to say to her face was usually bad. "But, there was an incident."

"When you stabbed him at your son's birthday party?"

"Yes. It was a very confusing time and I…"

He lifted his hand again to stop her. A warm smile spread across his face.

"I've been married to my beautiful bride for seventy-three years. She is the kindest, most generous person I've ever known. Even so, she has lost her temper with me more times than I can count. She once threw a pot at my head. I have the scar to prove she has excellent aim." He pointed to the faded line just above his left eyebrow. "If I was able to forgive her for hurting me when she was frustrated with me, what makes you think that your husband will not do the same for something you did when you were confused and frightened and your mind manipulated by someone who wanted to hurt you?"

Some of the shame began to slip away. Marriage had a way of bringing out the very best and the very worst in people. No one could make her as angry as Antonin could. She knew for a fact that he felt the same way. Was that why she was still so embarrassed by that day? Was she harboring a fear that even though he might act like he did, that Antonin wouldn't be able to forgive her? She shook her head, willing those thoughts to disperse. There wasn't enough time to worry about her husband. Not when she still had memories blocked inside her mind.

"Let's get started."

She was never more grateful for Mr. Akingbade changing the subject. Holding up the list she made of memories that she suspected were tampered with, he pointed to another incident in her past that made her cheeks burn with shame. The Dolohovs tried so hard to keep up a façade of perfection outside the walls of their home. For a complete stranger to know about the shameful details of their actual home life was enough to send her crawling under the bed.

"Right here you've written 'the first time Antonin hit me in two years after my fall'. Tell me about that. Focus on that day."

"I'd just come home from a mission. It went badly and I was in a terrible mood. Antonin was angry too. I don't really remember why. He said something like I was embarrassing him, but I don't know how."

After so many sessions, she was prepared for the tugging of her memories again. Gentle, as everything had been with Mr. Akingbade, she didn't dread the sensation of the pull of the charms. She continued to see the argument that she and Antonin had, wishing she could remember what started it. The memory burst forth at the final pull of the charm.

"You were supposed to wait for the others to arrive, Hermione! Why would you go in there by yourself?"

Angry that, yet again, her husband didn't appear to trust her judgment, Hermione put her hands on her hips. She was exhausted of him never believing that she actually knew what she was doing. Hadn't she already proven that she wasn't some helpless damsel in distress constantly in need of saving and protecting? Clearly her husband would never see her as anything other a weakling.

"I wasn't alone. Roddy was with me."

Antonin rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Yes, of course he was. He's always with you when you make foolish decisions. I used to believe I could trust him with the safety of my wife. Now I'm wondering if I've been a fool all along."

"Of course you're a fool, but it's not because you've trusted Roddy."

She enjoyed taunting him. It was one of the things in her life that gave her enormous pleasure. Especially when it caused his nostrils to flare and the vein in his neck to bulge out. The wizard really was entirely too easy to control. He grew uneasy when he saw the feral smile on his wife's face. No longer angry, she was ready to inflict some pain on the man. Maybe this time he might actually fight her back. She'd been hoping and waiting, but he always stopped himself right before he lost control. No one would blame her if she killed the horrible man when she was simply defending herself. Even the Dark Lord would forgive her. Her punishment would be harsh. Not enough to kill her though. Just enough to make her wish she was dead and then it would be over.

"Now, why don't you run along and go to London to visit your little whore. You know you want to. Tell her what a mean, nasty woman your wife is. Let her spread her legs and comfort you. She's rather good at it. Probably all of that experience she has. I highly doubt you're the only one she whores herself out to."

"The only whore I know is you."

Almost of its own accord, the back of her hand smacked against his mouth with all of her might. She could be quite strong when she was angry and she preferred to leave her mark on her husband with the large diamond he gave her to celebrate their forced marriage. Antonin's bottom lip split, bright red blood oozing out of the wound. She could see his fury, his rage, just itching to come to the surface and make her pay for her cruelty. But, to her supreme disappointment, he wouldn't fight back.

She watched him descend the staircase and slam the front door shut. Annoyed, but still feeling justified, Hermione followed his footsteps to the bottom of the stairs. Rodolphus leaned up against the doorway into the lounge, an amused smirk on his lips.

"You are a mean one, aren't you?"

"That's never bothered you before. I thought you actually liked it."

His laughter proved she was correct. Rodolphus held up a bottle of Antonin's favorite fire whiskey.

"Let's get pissed and fuck in your husband's bed."

The memory ended there to her relief. They'd seen enough. Later, when she was alone, she didn't doubt that the rest of it would gradually return on its own. Everything came back to Rodolphus. She no longer had any doubts at all that he was the one responsible.

"I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore tonight."

Mr. Akingbade nodded his head, understanding that she'd reached her limit. There was plenty of time to continue after she'd rested. He urged her to take another sleeping potion to ensure that she had plenty of sleep. Though it might not always seem so, their sessions took a lot of energy out of her. She needed to recharge or they would do irreparable harm.

If Antonin was surprised to see his younger brother and the memory charms expert leave earlier in the night than they normally did, he didn't say anything. He stood with Hermione in their kitchen watching the men Disapparate from the middle of their back garden. With a swift kiss to her husband's cheek, she made her excuses to leave.

"I'm going to take another sleeping potion and go to bed early."

He pulled her into his arms for a lingering, but still quite gentle kiss.

"Good. I'll be up later."

She knew that his plans for the evening involved reading a stack of mysterious parchment tucked away in his pocket on the sofa in the lounge. Based on the sheer exhaustion she could read on his face, she knew that it wouldn't take him long before he was asleep on the same sofa in front of the fireplace. She would be patient, but as soon as she knew he was asleep, she was sneaking out. There was a wizard she needed to find.