August 5th

After their uncomfortable discussion early the previous morning and Antonin's subsequent running out, Hermione wasn't sure to expect her husband to return to the safe house that day. Or perhaps any other day. Only the fact that their son remained gave him the incentive to come back again. She knew that what they discussed had been difficult for him to hear. It hadn't been easy for her either. What woman, even one who wasn't in love with her husband, wants to hear about the women he had been with while they were still married? And she was more than aware of the fact that it had been hard for him to. At least she never had to see him with other women. She hadn't been aware up until that moment that he knew about her being at Fenrir's.

An uncomfortable day passed in Augustus' home where she mostly kept to herself in her borrowed bedroom. Oliver spent much of his life alone so she didn't have to worry about keeping his attention occupied. He was a lot like she had been at his age in that respect. She used to need nothing more than an interesting book to keep out of trouble. Once she started Hogwarts and made friends with Harry and Ron began a different stage in her life where that wasn't always possible. Their host still didn't know how to be around her without it being uncomfortable, so she did what she could to spare him from her unwanted presence.

When her husband came barging into their room after midnight reeking of fire whiskey, she'd been so relieved that he came back that she couldn't even imagine pushing him away when he kissed her roughly. It had been exciting. They each put all of their frustration and anger with the other in their heated ardor. If she'd been able to think clearly through the haze of bliss she experienced thanks to his talented touches, she would've been angry with him for the concerted effort he made at ensuring their headboard slammed against the wall they shared with Augustus' bedroom repeatedly and loudly. While it had been childish and further proof that his jealousy could make him a bit unstable, she relished in the intense passion. Rarely had their make-ups following a fight been so enthusiastic.

He was gone again before she even woke up. Only the pleasant ache in most of the muscles in her body proved that their night hadn't all been just one steamy dream. Likely he was off doing something mysterious that he would refuse to tell her about later. She was starting to get to the point where she didn't care what happened. Yes, it was infuriating being stuck in a place that was not her home with no answers, but it was even more frustrating trying to get answers from a man who refused to give them. In his own obnoxious way he thought he was protecting his family. Maybe he was. Maybe she would do something reckless and foolish if she discovered what he was doing out there. It had been known to happen before. Logic and analytical thinking often went to war against her inherent Gryffindor traits.

By mid-morning she knew she couldn't stay in bed forever. Sleeping her life away was not a suitable existence. Hermione forced herself out of the tangled sheets to prepare for another day of whiling away the hours staring at the ocean or the four walls of Augustus' house. At least he had a decent shower in the bathroom connected to the room she shared with her husband. Dressed and clean, she stepped out into the corridor.

Voices from the kitchen stopped her before she moved very far. Both of them were very familiar. Realizing that her son was deep in discussion with her ex-lover, she found her curiosity take over her good senses. Careful to not make any noise, she tiptoed closer to the room they were seated in to listen in on what they were saying.

"You and my father used to be friends. What happened?"

"We're still friends, Oliver. If we weren't, why would I let your family stay in my house?"

"Because you're still in love with my mum."

Hermione had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from gasping at her son's observation. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was intelligent and perceptive. The adults in his life weren't aways very careful about guarding their tongues in his presence. While she couldn't specifically remember any moment she'd mentioned her past with Augustus where Oliver could hear, clearly she hadn't been as aware as she thought. In an effort to keep the moment from being awkward, Augustus laughed.

"You have a very active imagination, Oliver. Where would you get an idea like that?"

"I'm twelve, Mr. Rookwood. Not four."

"You can call me Gus. But I'm still not sure where you…"

"My mother is the only one who calls you 'Augie'. And when you look at her, you're sad. And when my father looks at you, he's angry."

There was no flaw in his logic. She knew that he was more observant than she realized at times. It was so easy to ignore her son. Mostly quiet and able to entertain himself, she was terrible for dismissing him so often. Evidently she spent too much time away from their home when he was younger. She would like to know him better. Not that she ever wanted to be a mother in the first place. That feeling hadn't gone away. If anything, thanks to the craziness of their world and the unpredictability of it all, she wanted to have more children even less than she did before. She wasn't guaranteed a happily ever after. Even if she was, that didn't include more children.

"Yes, well, we all have a complicated history. When the war ended, your mum was taken prisoner by the Dark Lord."

"Because she was fighting on the other side?"

"Yes, initially, she was on the other side, but she turned from them. She has been a loyal follower of the Dark Lord for twenty years now."

Though she couldn't see their faces from where she hid in the corridor, Hermione could just picture Oliver looking at Augustus with the same expression that his father always had when he was trying to seem unimpressed. A single raised eyebrow, a gentle twitch of his lips that accentuated his dimples. It was enough to make her smile. She considered walking in and stopping Augustus from explaining bits about their past, but she knew how disappointed her son would be. His parents tried to shield him from the ugliness of their history when he would ask. Didn't he have a right to know some of it, at least? She reserved the right to interrupt if he started to reveal too much.

"When she was taken prisoner, she was placed in a broom cupboard. The castle was badly damaged and there wasn't any place better for her to be kept. It wasn't a nice place. I wish I could've helped make it more comfortable for her, but there was a lot going on. Your father found out that she was locked in the cupboard with no protection from the worst of the…"

Augustus cleared his throat. Clearly forgetting for a moment that he was speaking to one so young and innocent, he stopped before he mentioned the atrocities that were happening to other women in the castle. Vanquished foes weren't always executed and tortured. War was hell, in some ways more for women than men.

"Antonin said that she was an important prisoner that required guarding. In all of the chaos, no one knew who was supposed to do what. He took it upon himself to stand guard outside of her cupboard until the Dark Lord was ready for her."

Hermione felt her forehead wrinkle in confusion at his statement. Antonin was never outside of her cupboard. When she first woke up in the darkness, she called out and it was Augustus who answered. Never once did she hear Antonin's voice. Not until the day she was removed from the cupboard and the Dark Lord announced she would living in the village in Antonin's house.

"It was his idea to keep your mum safe, but the Dark Lord called him away. Your father asked me to take his place because he didn't trust anyone else. Said the rest of them were just looking for revenge and would hurt her. So I did as he asked. Never expected to feel so protective of her. Certainly never expected to fall in love with her."

"And Papa hates you because Mum fell in love with you instead of him?"

"Afraid so. It should've been him outside that cupboard. If I'd known how much I would've hurt your mum, I would've told him no and made him do it instead. Damn the Dark Lord."

She didn't want to hear anymore. She couldn't hear anymore. It was too much. Retreating back to the bedroom she'd just exited, she laid back down on the bed. So many thoughts were running through her mind that she struggled to focus on any of them. Never once in twenty years did Antonin tell her that he was the one who was supposed to be guarding her cupboard, that he was the one who came up the with idea in the first place. How many times had she wished that the past was different? That he'd been there instead of Augustus?

Would she have fallen in love with Antonin instead of Augustus? It seemed not only possible, but probable. They were well-suited to each other. Even if they could drive each other absolutely mental with hardly any effort, they had always made a good team. She respected him when he was her teacher, considered him a close friend. There had even been some heated moments before they were ordered to marry when she thought that there was something between them.

When she was locked alone in the cupboard, she had been desperately frightened. Everything about her world had just been turned completely upside down. She didn't even know if she was going to live to see another day. And the screams she kept hearing… she didn't even want to imagine what was happening. In her desperation, she clung to anything that was the least bit hopeful. Augustus was a friendly voice in the darkness when she was all alone. She built him up so much in her head that it was no wonder she fell for him, believed that there was something there. She did love Augustus, but it was borne out of desperation. Was it any wonder that they never could quite get their relationship to work? Everything would've been different if Antonin was outside her cupboard. The chemistry that was already there could've become something much more if they'd had the opportunity to watch it develop.

Hermione tried to push down her sudden bitterness. There was nothing that could be done. The past was over and gone. She would never know what might have been. Somehow she would have to figure out how to keep going forward.