December 14th

Hermione didn't have a chance to speak to her husband until very late the night she was approached by Draco. It was maddening to be left alone for so long knowing her location had been exposed to one who didn't seem to wish her well. The only comfort she had and the one piece of knowledge that was keeping her from running out to find Antonin herself was the fact that Draco didn't actually come inside their cottage. He had to wait out in the cold until Hermione chose to exit. That seemed to her an excellent indication that the wards Antonin erected to keep them safe inside were effective at keeping everyone else out. It was a small comfort.

Somehow she managed to fall asleep while she was waiting for Antonin to return to their temporary home. Apparently waiting up long enough made even the most proficient worrier sleepy at some point. The gentle shaking of the mattress as Antonin climbed in beside her woke Hermione out of a series of ever-more increasingly disturbing dreams. Was there ever a time when she was able to sleep comfortably without fear of nightmares? It seemed too long ago in the past to remember.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Is this our life now? You're gone all day and most of the night only to apologize to me when you wake me up?"

She didn't mean for her words to be so harsh, but it was too late to stop them. Antonin wasn't in the mood for a fight. He never really was nor was she. They just always sort of seemed to happen on their own. Realizing she was in the wrong and essentially attacking him when he was contrite and just trying to get to bed, she sighed.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been able to rest all day waiting for you to come back. I shouldn't be taking my frustration out on you."

"Did something happen today when I was gone?"

"Yes."

He turned on the lamp and sat up, exhaustion replaced with concern. Glad that she was finally going to have the opportunity to tell him about his stolen watch, she sat up too.

"Draco Malfoy came by to see me when you were gone."

"Did he come inside this house?"

"No, he followed me when I went outside to take a walk."

He relaxed only slightly at the knowledge that his wards held against the wizard. If he started in with her about how dangerous it was to go outside, she wasn't going to give a damn whether or not he was in the mood to fight. She refused to be treated like a child or a prisoner. They were going to be equal partners or they were going to be nothing. When he didn't start a lecture, she felt slightly less annoyed even if she could tell by the look in his eyes that that was exactly what he wished to do. She could understand the reasons why no one was telling her anything that was happening in the fight against Rodolphus and his minions, but that didn't mean she was going to allow him to treat her poorly.

"What did Malfoy want?"

"To taunt me, I think. I'm not really sure. Who can ever be certain what he means?"

Nothing about her conversation with Draco made the least bit of sense. Only a fool would believe him when he claimed that he'd been honest with her about his feelings. She wasn't stupid. He was playing a game, a dangerous game that could very well end in her death or the deaths of people she loved. The wizard was infuriating.

"What did he say to you? Anything unusual?"

"Everything about the horrible man is unusual, but no, I was the one who asked the most questions."

"What questions?"

She wished she could go back in time thirty seconds to keep her mouth shut. Opening up about the weird confession Draco made in bed months earlier the night before she returned to Hogsmeade wouldn't be a comfortable conversation. But, based on the expression splashed across her husband's face, she knew that she would have to divulge the truth. She was done with secrets in her marriage. They would either be completely honest with each other, once the spell was removed from her head of course, or she was done.

"Draco claimed one night back in May that he thought he was falling in love with me. It was complete lunacy."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't love me! How could he?"

"I've been in love with you for twenty years, so perhaps I'm not the best one for you to convince otherwise. I can think of plenty of reasons to love you."

Maybe a day would come when she wouldn't be so ill at ease when her husband was blunt about his intense feelings for her. Even considering the fact that she was finally able to admit to him and to herself that she loved him back, she didn't know how to have such an open conversation about their emotions. There had always been bits and pieces of Antonin that she'd admired. Perhaps not from the first day when he forced her to stand in place and just stare at the food she wasn't allowed to touch. No, that lesson had been an exercise she wouldn't mind forgetting. But days after that when some of his kindness began to peek through his fearsome Death Eater persona, she found that she liked him.

Men desired respect every bit as much as women desired love. In order to feel like they were in a worthwhile relationship, men needed to feel that respect unconditionally. As she was getting to know the man who once had a starring role in the worst of her nightmares, she began to respect him, even admire him. There was much more to him than she could've ever imagined. More than just some mindless, one-dimensional baddie who served a cruel master, she saw there was more depth to him. It hadn't been hard for her to cling to some semblance of humanity when she was desperate for connection in that horrible time. She knew that it caused him more pain than anything when she disrespected him throughout their marriage. Sometimes she did it just because she knew it would hurt him.

Perhaps that was why she took such offense to women like Ginny Weasley and Andromeda Tonks. She didn't feel an ounce of jealousy towards Gemma Lestrange because she knew that his affair with her was only borne out of the urge for revenge. There had been no love or actual feelings involved. Just mindless fucking that made her sick to her stomach if she thought about it for any length of time. But the other two women? She worried that he could actually love them in a way that she wanted to only be reserved for herself. It was a sick sort of obsession. She knew it was unhealthy. Even when she didn't know that she loved him, she didn't want him to love any other woman but her.

"Draco isn't the sort of person to fall in love. He's too calculated."

"You make him sound like a miserable sort of person."

"I think he probably is. But no, he wasn't being honest. He was just telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. Likely he's been doing that his entire life when around women. With men too, for all I know. The more I think I know the man, the more I realize I don't know anything about him."

It was bizarre that Draco popped back into her life so suddenly almost a year earlier. For twenty years he'd only been on the very peripheral of her world. She didn't pay him much mind. There was no reason. The Malfoys were all jokes in their society. Jokes that weren't funny. Held up as an example for how far a family could fall, few wanted to even speak to them. Hermione didn't know Draco. She never had. If he hadn't appeared in her stolen bedroom right as the new year began, she wouldn't have given him much thought.

"And if it turned out his feelings were genuine? What then?"

She had to stop to really consider how she would answer his question. Draco continued to be an enigma. One moment she couldn't stand the very sight of him and then the next she was worried about him and wished to know that he was all right. Few people had ever had that effect on her. Was it just simply because he was a leftover remnant from an adolescence that was stolen from her or was there something much more complicated at play? It was infuriating to not know the truth.

Deciding that it didn't matter whatsoever whether or not Draco was telling the truth, Hermione was ready to end the conversation. They weren't getting anywhere. If she said the wrong word she knew that Antonin's legendary insecurity and jealousy would take over his better senses. It was amazing how a confident and intelligent man like her husband could be reduced to nothing but a petty, envious child when aspects of his life weren't going as he wished. She wondered if there was something about his childhood that would explain how he could be completely fearless in every area of his life and reduced to such pettiness with the woman he loved. No doubt a Muggle psychiatrist would have a fascinating time exploring the depths of his malfunctions. Hers too, if she allowed one to get close enough.

"I don't love Draco, Antonin. Like I said before, I think I was in love with the idea of loving him when I was at my lowest and loneliest. That's not where I am anymore."

It was as truthful as she was prepared to be about such a delicate topic. As more time passed and the feelings involved weren't so fresh and raw, maybe she would be willing to discuss it in more depth. As it was, she was embarrassed that for even the briefest of moments she allowed Draco to convince her that there was more between them than there actually was. He was possibly the most manipulative man that she'd ever met. Considering the horrible wizards she'd had the misfortune of knowing over the years as a Death Eater, that was saying something.

"I think I was in love with the idea of being in love with Ginny. Maybe I even convinced myself for a moment or two that there could have been something real between us."

Her first instinct was to tell her husband to shut up about his murdered mistress, but she knew that wouldn't be fair. She couldn't allow her own jealousies and insecurities to get in the way of one of the few open, honest conversations they'd had in their entire marriage. Even when they were in the privacy of their Hogsmeade bedroom whispering about their frustrations with the regime and those that they served with, there had always been a large amount of guarding their true feelings. If Antonin was able to sit there calmly as she discussed wishing she could be in love with another man, she could afford him the same courtesy.

"As angry as I am that I haven't even met my daughter yet, I'm glad she didn't tell me about Maisie when she was first born. I think I was so unhappy that I might've been able to convince myself that I would've been happier with her."

"So you would've left me?"

"Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that I might have. I know what I said the other night, but maybe I wasn't being entirely honest with myself. Think about how miserable we were four years ago, love. How nervous Ollie was every second we were both home. What is that saying? 'The grass is always greener on the other side'? It would've been a dismal failure. We would never have worked even if the Dark Lord allowed it to happen in the first place."

"Why not?"

He leaned across the bed to gently kiss her lips.

"Because even when I thought I hated you, I've never loved anyone as much as I have loved you."

Theirs would never be a love that was written about in any sort of romance novel or sappy song. Unless, of course, it was written as a warning to those who heard the tale of what not to do. She hoped that at the very least they were a good enough example for their son to wish to aspire to be better. Already she thought Oliver was a better person than both of his parents combined.

Antonin turned the lamp off and slid back down to lay his head on his pillow. With a simple opening of his arms, he invited his wife to find comfort with him. Hermione decided that if he wasn't afraid that Draco was able to track them, she wouldn't be either.