December 28th

Even with the potion used to calm her nerves when she was confused or the least bit out of sorts in the past, Hermione's sleep was restless. How could she be expected to find any rest at all when the horror of Mr. Akingbade's confession consumed her every thought? What he told her was worse than the stuff of normal nightmares. It was enough to ensure that she might never sleep again. Not as long as Rodolphus was still alive and able to follow through on his plan.

Her next session with the memory charms expert could not come soon enough to satisfy her. With the block no longer in her mind, she felt vulnerable. If her path crossed Rodolphus' any time soon, he might be able to do whatever horrible, disgusting thing he had planned. She didn't want to consider the possibilities. There was nothing that was going to keep her out of the Hogsmeade Caves once it grew dark. Even if she had to lie to say that she no longer felt any pain in her head, she was going. Antonin would have to stupefy her and tie her to the bed to keep her away. Not that she believed he'd resort to such drastic measures. He seemed just as anxious to get rid of Rodolphus' spell as she was. Though he hadn't said a single word to her about the spell and Rodolphus' plan, she'd seen the way he kept looking at her. He was terrified and afraid to tell her so.

When the calming potion wore off, Hermione couldn't bear to stay in bed another minute. At some point Antonin was able to finally fall asleep. He'd spent most of the night awake, watching her sleep. Several times she woke up for just a few moments to find him staring at her, unmoved from his previous position since she last caught him staring. It was as if he was afraid that she would disappear if he dared to even blink. Careful not to wake him up by shaking the bed, she slipped out from under the covers.

The book that cast a dark shadow over the entire house sat on a table in the tiny kitchen. As much as it sickened her and made her even more afraid, she knew she had to read everything she could about the spell Mr. Akingbade suspected still resided inside her mind. Maybe knowledge would help her find some comfort in the whole sordid affair. Ignorance had rarely been bliss in her opinion.

Of course, that thought quickly changed once she read the description of the spell. First designed by another depressed widower longing to bring his wife back from the dead, its purpose was just as Mr. Akingbade explained. The first step was to implant a trapping spell inside the mind of the poor soul chosen as the body they wished to steal. When the spell-caster was ready to begin the second part of the disgusting scheme, they would lock away the host's consciousness into a small corner of their mind. Unable to control a single part of their own body, they were forced to be a prisoner, able to watch and feel. Nothing else.

There was some speculation as to whether or not their thoughts could be shared with the spirit of the deceased person taking over control. The spell had been used successfully so infrequently in the past that there weren't enough examples to understand it fully. The very idea of only being able to interact with Bellatrix inside her mind filled Hermione with indescribable fear and horror. While she certainly deserved to pay for all of the terrible crimes she'd committed over the previous twenty years, that fate sounded worse than a thousand days locked in a side-room on Level Eleven with Rabastan. Death of her body would be her only escape from her prison and she wouldn't even have the ability to kill herself if she so desired.

The second step of the process to call Bellatrix back from the dead and insert her into Hermione's body was just as disturbing. Consisting of a number of different parts, she couldn't believe how complicated it all was. It was no wonder that the ritual had rarely been completed. There were numerous ways in which it could go terribly wrong. At least the high likelihood that she would die in the process gave Hermione some comfort. Even a painful death was preferable to sharing a body with Bellatrix.

It had to be completed in the very spot the deceased breathed their last. Hermione would never forget the moment Molly Weasley bested Bellatrix in a duel in the middle of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. It was a moment that Molly should've always been proud of. Pity she was murdered painfully shortly after the battle ended. She didn't even have a chance to enjoy her victory.

A great deal of blood was required. Not just any blood either. No, the ritual required 'blood of the innocent'. In the past, Hermione hadn't been terribly squeamish about murdering children, but a lot had changed. Just the thought of some poor child being sacrificed so a lunatic could bring his lunatic wife back from the dead was sickening.

An asterisk next to the mention of the 'blood of the innocent' caught her attention. At the bottom of the page in tiny print she could hardly see was an important caveat. The potency of the spell, and thus the likelihood of it succeeding, would be improved by using the innocent blood of the spell-caster's own child. If it wasn't possible to use one's own child either because there wasn't one or none of the ones available were 'innocent' enough, a sibling or niece or nephew could be substituted. Though not necessary as any innocent child would theoretically work, it was highly encouraged.

Rosalind Nott's purpose in Rodolphus' horrible plan became quite clear. Thanks to Rodolphus' inability to father children, he had to rely on his younger brother to provide him with an innocent child to sacrifice. Offering up one of the children he shared with Gemma would've never been an option. Rabastan loved his own children too much to offer and the only one who would likely be innocent enough would be his youngest Gwendoline. It was obvious to everyone that if he had a favorite, she would've been it. No, Rabastan wouldn't even do that for his brother.

But, he probably would seduce a lonely girl without family or a friend in the world. Likely he didn't even know why Rodolphus ordered him to get Rosalind pregnant, but it wasn't a hardship for him to comply. Maybe he even believed what he told her that day in The Three Broomsticks that it was an attempt to have more power on the Wizengamot in their hands. Though Rabastan had a lot of faults, she struggled to believe he would willingly offer up his child, even unwanted and illegitimate, for sacrifice.

Hermione was glad once again that she took Rosalind to Augustus. He would protect her, to the death, if necessary. Naturally, she hoped it wouldn't come to that. There had already been enough senseless violence and she still cared a great deal for her ex-lover. She desperately wanted him to have his second chance at a family, even another chance at finding real love. Rosalind and her unborn son were both innocents in that horrible game. Augustus would do what was necessary to keep them out of it. She had no doubt that he would even smuggle them out of the country to do so.

"Why aren't you in bed? I was worried."

So engrossed was she in her reading and her own horror that Hermione didn't even hear Antonin's footsteps. Only when his hands rested on her shoulders and he pressed his cheek against the side of her head did she even know she was no longer alone. Her research was making her too afraid to pay attention to her own surroundings. It was a fault she needed to remedy. Next time, it might not be her husband walking up behind her. She couldn't afford to forget for even a moment that she was in constant danger.

"I couldn't sleep. Not as long as I knew that this horrible book was out here."

Antonin sighed heavily as he took a seat in the chair closest to hers. She'd seen him looking at the book the night before, but not opening it. Perhaps he could feel the malevolent power within its cover too. Every bit as curious and eager to learn as his wife in normal circumstances, she knew that he was afraid to learn what was wrong with her. Alain explained it to him while they were in the cave as best he could. Hermione wondered if Mr. Akingbade was correct and her husband required both of his brothers there to keep him from rushing off into the night to do something foolish that could get him killed. He seemed unnaturally calm, like he was forcing himself not to move or even breathe too hard. It was clear, to his wife at least, that Antonin was only moments away from snapping the tiny bit of composure he was holding on to. She knew that if Rodolphus was suicidal enough to walk through the door, Antonin wouldn't rest until one of them was dead.

"Did you read it when I was sleeping?"

He shook his head, but she suspected she already knew the answer.

"I didn't want to know what was in there, what the bastard wants to do to you."

"I understand that, but Antonin… darling, you need to know."

Even though he visibly flinched when she opened the hateful volume to the pages describing the spell, he didn't move away or demand that she stop. Deep down he knew that she was right. As much as she hated to bring him even more stress, she needed him to know because there was something very important that she needed him to promise her, something that she would trust no one else in the world to do. When the explanation of what the spell was designed to do and the ritual required to bring it into fruition was completed, Antonin's pallor was concerning. Hermione leaned across the table to kiss him, hoping that it would distract him enough that he would actually listen to what she had to ask him.

"Antonin… I need you to make me a promise."

Something in her tone gave away that he wasn't going to like what she said. He stared at her, unblinking, clearly not eager for what she was going to ask him. Hermione didn't allow his reluctance to dissuade her from her purpose.

"If Rodolphus succeeds and I'm trapped inside my mind…"

"He won't."

"He might. He's very determined and I'm sure he's been planning this far longer than we even realize. Every step of the way has been planned and even executed. I think if he gets the opportunity, there is a very high possibility that he will succeed."

"He won't."

She kissed her husband again, desperate to believe that he was right, but knowing that at least one of them had to be pragmatic. It wouldn't do if they were both burying their heads in the proverbial sand.

"If he succeeds, I can't live like that, Antonin. Stuck inside my mind with no way out and no control? Spending whatever time I'm left on this Earth trapped with Bellatrix my only companion? It's a fate that's worse than death."

"Hermione, don't ask me."

"I'm sorry, but I have to. If he succeeds, I need you to kill me."

Unable to look at her another moment, Antonin laid his head down on top of the table. She could tell that he was struggling to breathe, struggling to keep the emotion that was threatening to rush out of him in a torrent under control. It was an impossible request to make of her husband, but she trusted no one else half as much. Existing trapped in her mind was a future that terrified her beyond measure. She placed a gentle hand on his back, hoping that he could truly understand why she was asking him to do something so terrible if it was necessary.

"You should move on and be happy again."

Antonin lifted his head to stare her in the face. His dark brown eyes were filled with unshed tears. Every wrinkle that had crept up on his features in recent months was on prominent display. Though still quite handsome, she hated that he was starting to show his age. How much of that was her fault? If they were able to get away, would he be healthier? She didn't even want to imagine what would become of him if he had to do what she begged him to do. Likely he wouldn't be able to to move past that horrible moment. Taking a deep, calming breath, Antonin reached across the space between them to run his hand gently through her curls.

"I'm not even sure why we're discussing this. It's unnecessary. Mr. Akingbade will be removing the spell from your mind tonight and then I'm going to kill Rodolphus."

His statement drew a chuckle out of his wife.

"Oh, you're going to kill him? Because I had my heart set on doing it myself."

"As long as he's dead, what does it matter which one of us does it?"

She kissed him, eager for the physical reminder that she wasn't alone. Somehow she didn't think she would ever get used to that feeling or stop needing the reassurance that it existed. Antonin, to his credit, didn't seem to mind. When she broke the kiss, she grew serious again. They needed to discuss what they were going to do when it was all over. Before, they'd simply been fantasizing about a possible future. The closer it seemed to get to becoming a reality, the more she wanted to know without question what their plans were.

"And what do we do when he's dead?"

"We take our family to Brazil like we planned and start over."

The definition of their family didn't mean what it used to mean.

"Maisie too?"

"She's my daughter and her mother is gone. I can't just leave her behind."

"No, of course you can't."

Most women might have been horrified by the idea that she might be expected to help raise her husband's illegitimate child, conceived of an affair in the middle of the marriage. The situation with little Maisie was much different and it wasn't exactly as if Hermione was like most women. Besides, a large part of her felt like she owed it to Ginny to make certain that her daughter was kept safe and given a home. Guilt would likely plague Hermione for the rest of her life where it came to her former friend. If she had just been honest and stopped keeping that damned secret, she could've prevented that horrible night when Ginny was murdered. She knew that Antonin struggled, and would continue to struggle, with his own guilt. Together they could try to make it up to Ginny by loving her daughter and giving her a home where she was happy and allowed to be a carefree child. Something stirred deep within Hermione when she imagined the possibility of the four of them becoming a true family. She could open her home and her heart to the innocent four year old girl. It was the least she could do after what happened to the poor child's mother.

"I'm not sure how we're going to explain her to Ollie. How I'm going to explain to him that I have a daughter with a woman that is not his mother."

"He'll be okay. He's smart. He'll understand. Maybe he'll be angry in the beginning, but he'll make a wonderful big brother. And he adores you."

Trusting that his wife was correct and desperately wishing to change the subject, Antonin made the suggestion that they return to the bedroom. When Hermione replied that she wasn't in the least bit tired any longer, he simply winked and informed her that neither was he. There were many hours to kill before they could return to the Hogsmeade Caves. What better way to spend that time than with each other?