December 12th

The Dolohovs did not linger long in Ginny's house after the murder and the unconventional celebration of sorts concluded. Both of them felt a large measure of shame at their behavior. Acting in the moment was no longer a proper excuse. There had to be some level of propriety. Once they were dressed again, Antonin led his wife out of the house. His frequent travel around the country in recent weeks afforded him the knowledge of a more suitable place for them to spend the night. Neither one of them wished to spend another second in that house.

As soon as he was satisfied that they'd found a safe place to pass the night, Antonin began covering the vacant holiday cottage with all of the usual enchantments and wards he used to protect his family. He spared no effort or energy. With the increasing number of enemies they had, he couldn't afford to be careless. Though it upset Hermione to consider, she knew that something had to be done about Ginny.

"What's going to happen to her?"

Saying her name was a struggle. Antonin paused in his spellwork to press his lips against her forehead. She appreciated the gesture even if it didn't make her feel any calmer than she was before.

"I will take care of her. Don't worry about anything. Why don't you take another shower or try the bathtub? I'll come back when I'm done."

There was no sense in arguing with his plan. She might have felt better not being alone after such a chaotic and emotional evening, but he needed to clean up the mess as quickly as possible. Neither one of them knew if she would have anyone come searching. Rodolphus hadn't made it a secret to Hermione that he often sought out the pleasure of her company when he was in need. It would be just like him to find the body. Somehow she didn't get the impression that Rodolphus would take the murder of his spy well.

Antonin didn't return until Hermione was already asleep. She asked him for no details when they both woke up with the sun and he didn't offer. Maybe when emotions weren't quite so high. He didn't linger long in bed once he was awake. With a kiss and a promise that he would be back as soon as he could, her husband was gone again. It was the life of a normal Death Eater wife, one that she'd been fortunate enough to not have to endure because of her own Dark Mark.

It was well after midnight before he returned again. She wondered how long their impossible schedules would continue. Seeing him while she was awake for a only a few minutes every day wasn't conducive to a happy home. Not that she knew what one of those was. Or that they even had a home to go to. As much as it rankled her nerves to not be told what was happening, she understood. Until they knew what Rodolphus did to her mind, no one could afford to be careless enough with their secrets in her presence.

When he slipped into bed carefully in order not to wake her up, Hermione worried that Antonin hadn't forgiven her yet for keeping the secret of his daughter from him. Once they came down from their emotional high in Ginny's bedroom, he'd grown distant, even a little cold. She knew that eventually they would have to face reality. What she had done was a terrible thing. If the situation was reversed, she would've been incensed. The way that he seemed to just try to avoid all mention of the truth bothered her. If they didn't address it sooner, they would come to regret it.

"I'm very sorry that I kept the secret about your daughter for so long."

Antonin's heavy sigh was his initial response. Clearly unaware that she was even awake, when she rolled over to face him in the dim light of their borrowed bedroom, she could see that he'd been hoping to slide between the sheets without confrontation. Realizing that she wasn't going to let him sleep until he made some sort of answer, he leaned across the small distance between their bodies to kiss her.

"I understand why you kept it. I'm not angry."

"You're being awfully calm about this, Antonin."

"What do you want me to do, Hermione? Scream at you? Insult you? Curse you? Hit you?"

"Do you want to do any of those?"

He sighed again, deeper than before.

"If I could get through the rest of my life never having to do any of those things again to anyone, I'd die a happy man."

Wishing to see his face as he spoke, Hermione turned the lamp on next to the bed. Light filled the room, but he didn't complain. At once she could see the changes that had overtaken him since their ordeal began with the fall of the Dark Lord. He was exhausted in more ways than just physically. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him looking so tired and drained. There was more silver showing in his hair than she remembered seeing. It was easy to worry about him. Perhaps Kingsley had a point about his blood pressure even if he was attempting to make a joke when he said it.

"I knew there was something Ginny wasn't telling me. She disappeared so soon after we…" He cleared his throat. "And I didn't see her again for nearly a year? I should've been able to put the pieces together."

"She was in love with you."

"I know… poor girl."

The emotion was thick in his voice. She had so many more questions for him that she feared she would never have the courage to ask if she didn't go ahead and just do it.

"When did you know? How did it happen? Did you love her back?"

His dark eyes widened in shock as he met hers, surprised by the bluntness of her inquiries. He rolled over on his side to face her without straining his neck. She knew based on previous experiences when he'd done the same thing in bed that they were about to have a long talk. As much as it was evident that he didn't want to have the conversation they were having, he knew it had to be done.

"One time. One time we have this conversation and I never want to have it again."

"Sounds fair to me."

"But I want to talk about Malfoy too."

She was hesitant to agree to his terms, but knew that she must. He shouldn't be the only person in that marriage revealing the ugliness of secrets they'd tried to hide. Both of them were guilty of being the worst sorts of spouses. If there was any hope of a better relationship for them in the future, which Hermione still wasn't entirely certain was possible, they had to get all of the ugliness out and on the metaphorical table. With a nod of her head, she accepted because she was tired of the secrets too.

"I suspected she loved me right before you came back home on Ollie's birthday. I knew the night I told her we couldn't see each other again days later. She was angry that I wanted to make it work with you, but I realized later it was because she was hurting. She even told me that night that all it would take was one word from her and I'd leave you in a second."

"Is that true? If she told you about Maisie, would you have left me to start a family with her?"

Part of her was afraid to learn the answer. What if it wasn't what she wanted to hear? She hated that she still felt so inadequate next to the other witch. It was embarrassing to be stuck in the mentality of a teenager. Some aspects of her life, however, she feared would never change no matter how old she grew.

"No, I wouldn't have left you for Ginny. I would've taken responsibility for Maisie, but no, you are my wife and I've never wanted another. And, no, I never loved Ginny. I was cruel to her."

An awkward silence fell between them. Ginny's death was going to haunt Antonin for the rest of his life. Just like she couldn't go a single day without thinking about Oliver Wood, she knew that he would feel the same about the mother of his daughter. Regret would follow him around forever.

"When did you and Malfoy..? Did you love him? Did he love you? Do you love him?"

It was her turn to release a heavy sigh. She really didn't want to talk about Draco, but at least they both made the promise that they would only have that conversation one time.

"I was staying at his flat after you found me at Augie's. Nothing happened until the night of the twentieth anniversary in May. We drank too much and…"

She trusted that he could use his own imagination. There was simply no way that she would provide any details of the encounter or of any of the following. The other questions were even more awkward to answer though she knew it was necessary. If she didn't tell Antonin the truth, his imagination would likely make it all much worse than it really was.

"No, I'm not in love with him. Even if I'd managed to fall in love with him, I would've stopped because of all of the times he betrayed me to Rodolphus."

Antonin was uncomfortable by her confession. She didn't understand why. Shouldn't he have been relieved to know that there hadn't been real feelings involved in her dalliance with Draco? He seemed to be holding something back, acting as if he had something he wanted to say but was unsure how.

"And would it have made a difference to you if you learned that he only 'betrayed' you to Rodolphus because I asked him to?"

She felt her forehead crinkle up with her confusion. He wasn't meeting her eyes. Instead he stared at the blankets covering them.

"What are you saying, Antonin?"

"We couldn't afford for Rodolphus to become suspicious of Draco, so he had to keep up the act of still being on his side. When Rodolphus ordered him to do something, he did it. He had to keep telling the truth about where you were or what you were doing or who you were seeing because if he didn't, Rodolphus wouldn't trust him anymore."

Armed with the new knowledge, Hermione wasn't sure if anything would've been different. She just really didn't know. Still unable to offer up an honest answer to his question, she stopped to think it all over before she attempted to form a response. The more she considered the events of the past almost year, the more she was convinced that even knowing that he was only betraying her as a way to keep his status as a spy under wraps wouldn't have made a bit of difference. There was something off about Draco that she couldn't quite describe or explain. She'd felt it many times, especially when their relationship became so convoluted.

"No, Draco represents what my life could've been like if the Dark Lord died instead of Harry. Maybe a part of me was in love with the idea of being in love with him, but no. That's it. I don't love Draco and he certainly doesn't love me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm not sure Draco even knows how to love someone."

There was a disconcerting truth that she admitted only to herself. Antonin might claim to understand if she tried to share, but she knew in the end she would only end up hurting him. Hadn't she done enough of that already? She recognized the cold detachment from the world in Draco that she was all too familiar with. For most of her life she was exactly the same way. Only in recent days did it feel like she was waking up from that coldness. If Draco loved anyone, it was deep down and hidden, probably even from himself.

"Do you have any further questions, Antonin? Because I don't. You've told me all I want to know."

With a shake of his head, her husband leaned over to kiss her one final time before she turned out the lamp and they both fell asleep.