December 29th

Midnight never seemed so far away than when Hermione was waiting to meet in the Hogsmeade Caves again with Babajide Akingbade. It took all of her self-control not to rush there before the agreed upon time. Even as her husband did his damndest to keep her mind and her body occupied before it was time to leave, she was anxious. Would she finally be free of Rodolphus' curse? It seemed almost too much to hope for.

She would've never believed when the year began that she would discover that the true villain of her life was Rodolphus Lestrange. For many years he had been one of her only friends inside the ranks of the Death Eaters. It was a lonely, dangerous place to find oneself without allies. While it was a known fact that she always would've had Antonin on her side no matter the circumstances, she appreciated that she wasn't so isolated when other Death Eaters began to treat her like an equal. She thought Rodolphus cared about her. How very wrong she turned out to be. He just wanted the use of her body, in more ways than one.

"You've never told me the story of why you and Rodolphus hate each other so much."

Surprised by the randomness of the question, Antonin stopped in the middle of buttoning up his shirt to stare at his wife with an expression of incredulity. After a very pleasant day and evening spent alone again savoring every possible moment together, they were preparing themselves for the moment that the signal was given for them to make their way back to the Caves. She knew it was a bizarre question to ask at such a time, but she wanted to know. Every time she'd asked either man in the past, they'd simply shrugged her off and refused to answer. It forced her to imagine all sorts of terrible possibilities.

"I've never told you because it's nothing. I never hated him. Not until the day we found out he was the reason why you tripped on the stairs that day and what he had been doing to your mind. I didn't always like the arsehole, but I had nothing against him. Not even when I suspected the two of you were much more than the friends you claimed you were."

"He hates you. Always has. Never made a secret about it. Why does he hate you, but you didn't hate him?"

Antonin sighed and shook his head. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter why the two wizards didn't get along, especially not after all the evil that Rodolphus committed. Her husband finished buttoning his shirt and pulled his trousers on. She was determined to be patient. Before they left their temporary home, she would have the answers. Hadn't she waited long enough?

"It's very stupid. Hardly even worth mentioning."

"Evidently it wasn't stupid to Rodolphus."

"Fine. It was back when we were in Azkaban. Before then, we never had a single problem with the other. I never much cared for his wife, but that wasn't an unusual feeling amongst us."

"Because none of you liked a woman with any sort of power?"

"No, Hermione. It had absolutely nothing to do with what she had underneath her robes. Don't accuse me of that. You know how much I respect and appreciate powerful witches."

It was a topic of conversation that had come up many times over the course of their friendship and subsequent marriage. Each time it annoyed her husband to be accused of not appreciating women who were powerful. Most of her didn't believe it, but there were times when he could be so ridiculously old-fashioned that she thought he'd prefer that she just stayed entirely at home and was quiet and subservient. Other wizards might have wanted that; Antonin Dolohov did not. He had to concede, however, that there were plenty of wizards within their society, especially in the Inner Circle, that didn't believe a woman should ever have cause to leave the safety and security of her husband's family manor. She was thankful that most of those were steadily dying out.

"I insulted Bellatrix, though I'm not sorry I said it and I still believe what I said to her. But, you know how prickly Rodolphus is about his 'honor as a Lestrange'." He rolled his eyes. "You would think that I threatened to murder every member of his family. Yes, I was certainly tempted to do so, but how could I when I was still in a prison cell?"

"What did you say?"

"Bellatrix was in the cell across from mine. For almost fifteen years I had to look at her face every single day. Used to imagine that one day I'd get a chance to slice all of the skin off of her face."

"Sounds like there might have been some unresolved sexual tension on your part."

Hermione couldn't help but tease him. When he wrinkled up his nose and turned to stare at her with a look of disgust, she laughed. A smirk appeared on his lips.

"Well, maybe a little. She used to be a beautiful woman. Azkaban stripped a lot of that away. But, on this particular day, she was being an absolute terror. Screaming and throwing the few possessions we were allowed in our cells. I was trying to sleep and she was making it impossible. When I screamed at her to stop, she just got louder, so I yelled at Rodolphus. Told him to get control of his cunt wife or the rest of us would figure out how to break out of our cells to shut her up permanently."

"He hates you because you threatened to kill his wife?"

"No, I certainly wasn't the only one who has done that before. He resented the language I used to express my frustrations."

"So the whole reason that Rodolphus hates you so much is because you called his wife a cunt while you were in Azkaban?"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders, an expression of complete sincerity and seriousness on his face.

"Act like a cunt, I'm going to call you a cunt. I think the real issue Rodolphus had was the fact that he knew I was just telling the truth."

A bubble of laughter that Hermione couldn't stifle any longer burst out of her mouth. She had no doubt that Antonin was telling the truth. Rodolphus could indeed be prickly about his honor. Being unable to protect his beloved wife from such a disgusting, though appropriate, term had to have been maddening. No doubt he stewed on that single moment for the rest of the time they were unfortunate enough to be in Azkaban under the constant influence of the dementors. Amused by the sound of her laughter, Antonin joined in. Soon they were both laughing so hard that tears rolled out of their eyes. It felt amazing. She couldn't remember the last time they'd been able to share such a moment together. When they still had their home in Hogsmeade, there was a great deal of laughter in their bed. She'd missed it. Desperately she hoped that one day they could find those experiences again.

"There is such a thing as being too preoccupied with honor, in my opinion. And that prickly arsehole is the perfect example of that."

Hermione couldn't argue with her husband about that. Many times in the past she'd thought that the wizard was too obsessed with his family honor. Perhaps it had something to do with being a Sacred Twenty-Eight family or maybe it was because he spent such a significant part of his life in Azkaban that the shame of it all made his desire to be seen as honorable more important. She didn't know and she didn't care. At least it finally made sense why Rodolphus never told her the true story. He might have had to admit that perhaps there was some truth in what her husband said.

The vibration of her husband's silver mirror startled them both. No longer laughing and smiling, they were instantly reminded that there was a still a lot of danger outside the door of their bedroom. When she first saw that her husband continued to use the silver mirror despite knowing that it was possible for others to listen in to his conversations, Hermione had been annoyed. Did he truly not see Draco Malfoy as a serious threat? She still didn't understand his motivations for anything, but she knew that it was always dangerous and foolish to ignore those society deemed somehow 'inferior'. Kicked dogs eventually rose up to bite their offenders. But, Antonin wasn't stupid. Far from it. He acknowledged her concerns and assured her that they were all being very careful with what they said in the mirrors.

When Antonin opened the mirror, no one spoke. Too far away to see what he was seeing inside the mirror, she didn't know what was happening. With a single nod of his head, Antonin snapped the mirror shut and put it inside the pocket of his trousers. He crossed the room to where she stood to wrap her in his arms. A heated kiss threatened to take her very breath away. Why was he acting so strange? Like they were about to walk into battle with an uncertain outcome?

"You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry."

The grin on his lips seemed to indicate otherwise. Maybe he was more excited for what was coming than she was. Taking hold of her hand, he laced his fingers through hers. Still unsure who the signal from the mirror was from, she got the impression that it was time to leave. Before they made it out the front door, Antonin stopped three more times to kiss her. While she appreciated the affectionate gestures, they also made her nervous. Was he afraid that they would have no more opportunities for kisses after that night? She didn't want to believe that was even possible.

Outside in the freezing night air, she felt some of her courage from earlier begin to dissipate. What if it wasn't possible to remove the spell? Or worse, what if it wasn't the right one to begin with and they were all just wasting their time? Rodolphus might've come up with something truly terrible and dark that no one else would've considered. Babajide Akingbade could've been researching the wrong spell.

As soon as those thoughts threatened to take hold of her troubled mind, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. It was natural to be worried and skeptical that their nightmare could soon be over. But, what she absolutely could not afford to do was to talk herself out of finding answers and moving on just because she was scared. Was she or was she not a Gryffindor, after all? They didn't go bravely ahead because they weren't afraid. They did it in spite of being terrified. She squeezed Antonin's hand, grateful that she had his support. It wasn't just any man who would've stayed with her after everything that she put him through, intentionally and unintentionally. No one would've blamed him if he'd left her years earlier before they knew what was really wrong with her, least of all Hermione. She hoped that no matter what happened to her, Antonin would find the happiness he deserved.

There was an eeriness hanging over the Hogsmeade Caves that Hermione couldn't ignore. Had it always been there and she'd just been too preoccupied to notice? She hated those caves. Since the day she was forced to kill Oliver Wood to prove her loyalty to the Dark Lord, and to a certain extent Antonin, she'd loathed the place. Too many hurtful memories. Antonin couldn't give her a good enough reason to explain why his brothers chose the wretched location. They hadn't asked him for his opinion in the decision. Still, it felt almost poetic that the moment she crossed over the line years earlier to become the terrible person she'd been happened in the very place she wanted to turn away from her past self. Because the moment it was all over, she planned on spending the rest of her life becoming someone that Harry wouldn't be ashamed of any longer.

Antonin led her back into the intricate cave system. Each step she took further inside only increased the unsettling feeling she had in her guts. Were they making a mistake? Was this all some sort of trap? Only when she saw her two brothers-in-law waiting with both Mr. Akingbade and even Thorfinn at the edge of the fire did she relax somewhat. She was just feeling paranoid. It was normal, was it not? Before he would release his hold on his wife's hand, Antonin kissed her once more and pulled her into his arms. Sensing that she was nervous, he was offering the support that he could. It helped. She also got the impression that he was just as nervous as she. Sometimes he could be painfully transparent.

"We'll be waiting out here for you."

There was an unspoken reminder that they were there to make certain that Mr. Akingbade and Hermione were safe while they removed the last bit of Rodolphus' treachery from her mind. Both of them would be in a very vulnerable position while they worked. It was imperative that there were strong protectors steps away in case anything went wrong. As much as she wanted to believe that nothing could possibly go wrong, Hermione wasn't an idiot. Sometimes, especially when it seemed that life was cooperating too fully, it had a dangerous tendency to throw out a rogue bludger.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you read the book."

"Yes, I did. It was… awful."

"I agree. This Lestrange wizard is a terrible person. I sincerely hope that when we are finished here, you are able to rid this world of his presence. People like him are a sickness, an infection that will spread if they're allowed to keep living."

It was the first time she'd ever heard Babajide Akingbade use such harsh terms about another human being. Even when he was steadily uncovering the worst of Rodolphus' acts, he'd been careful in what he said. A born diplomat, it was no wonder that he'd been elevated to the lofty position of Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Only his loyalty to Albus Dumbledore and his insistence that the Dark Lord had returned removed him from his position. While he might have found some success in his native Uganda as a professor and around the world as a respected memory charms expert, she knew that his past had been something of an embarrassment to him. She could relate. There was very little about hers that she was proud of.

"I'm afraid that removing this spell will hurt you. There's simply no way around it."

"I'm not afraid of pain."

"If it becomes too much, I will stop."

There wasn't a single exaggeration in his statement. From the moment Hermione could feel the wizard inside her mind, she thought she would pass out from the pain. Unwilling to allow herself to scream out in case Antonin came running in, demanding that he stop, she bit her bottom lip to hold it in. What was a large amount of pain for a short period of time compared to a lifetime trapped in her own mind? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She wouldn't allow Rodolphus to win.

The familiar tugging that she remembered from the days that Mr. Akingbade removed the blocked memories in her mind was impossible to ignore. Unlike those days, however, was the fact that there was no gentle way to remove the disgusting spell. She knew that he was trying to be careful, but any movement at all, no matter how gentle, resulted in extreme pain. If she'd been able to keep her eyes open, she knew that she would've struggled to see anything.

Time was either passing by very quickly or creeping along. It was impossible to tell. She tried to keep focused on the fact that once the pain was over, she would be free from Rodolphus. Free to kill him and then free to move on with her life. The future was frightening and full of possibilities, but it was infinitely better than the plans that were made for her already.

She wasn't sure when she first became aware that something was terribly wrong. Maybe when she could hear the distant screams in the background. Sounding as if they were miles away, she almost didn't even recognize that they were real. They might have belonged to the people inside a television set that had the volume turned down too low to hear properly. When she first became aware of the sounds, she could sense urgency from the wizard inside her mind. Less careful with how he was pulling apart the spell, she suspected there were problems. Had the caves been chosen because they were easily fortified? Or because they were imbued with an ancient magic that her protectors could use to their advantage? Surely there was a reason.

A shout from a voice she thought she might have once recognized sounded unnaturally loud in her ears. Moments later the connection with Mr. Akingbade was severed. Immense pain, even more than she'd already been experiencing, flooded Hermione's head. She fell backwards on the bed. Without the wizard inside her mind, she could hear the shouts and voices outside more clearly. They were under attack. That much seemed obvious. How did anyone know they were even there? One voice was raised higher than all of the others shouting orders. She couldn't focus on it long enough to identify it.

"Alex! Protect them!"

Her husband's demand cut through the cacophony of other voices shouting curses and orders. It brought her a small measure of comfort to know that regardless of what was happening, Antonin was still all right. As the pain in her head lessened to a dull throb, Hermione forced her eyes open. Thankful for the dim light of the cave, she made herself sit up.

"Mr. Akingbade, what..?"

Her question hung in the air. The moment she saw the open friendly eyes of the wizard as his lifeless form laid on the ground beneath her feet, an indescribable fear mingled with her pain. She didn't believe what she was seeing. A glance up showed her youngest brother-in-law dueling fiercely with at least two masked attackers. It might kill her, but she knew that she had to help. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the wand she was given when she was on the run. While not nearly as effective as her wand that had been broken in her attack by Tiberius Zeller, it would have to do.

Alexandre was very gifted in Charms. His dueling skills were phenomenal, but even he was just one man. The most talented duelist would eventually meet someone who was better. Or be forced to face down too many at once. Hermione had a curse on the tip of her tongue ready to shout out if she could keep her trembling hand steady. Before she could utter it, she witnessed the quiet, bookish man crumple to the ground. All she could see in the dim light was the blood running down from the top of his head.

Once the attackers were inside the section of the cave Hermione was in, it was obvious their true purpose. A spell was cast up at the ceiling just above her head. Rocks of varying sizes, each more painful than the last, began to rain down. She tried to run, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Not after the assault on her mind. A flash of red light hit her chest just moments after she felt the intense pain of one of the rocks hitting her in the head. Then, there was nothing but darkness.

Her eyes felt too heavy to open. A throbbing pain in the back of her head proved to Hermione that she had yet another head injury. How many would that make in her lifetime? She'd lost count. Enough that there should be actual concern for her mental capabilities. Didn't repeated blows to the head take away the cognitive abilities of many professional athletes? She thought she remembered reading an article about that in another lifetime.

Every muscle in her body screamed out in pain when she tried to move. Laying down too long on a hard surface wasn't good for anyone's joints or bones. She didn't know where she was, only that it wasn't a plush mattress with high thread count sheets. Based on the ambient sounds of the location, she didn't know either. She thought she heard footsteps and maybe voices raised. Was that a scream in the distance? She hoped not. Rarely did screaming indicate safety and security.

A few minutes passed before she was brave enough to try to open her eyes. Everything hurt. Her head was excruciating. She longed for one of her potions just to help her get through the never-ending pain. As her eyes began to adjust, she could tell that she was on a stone floor. The space was small and dark. An odd odor permeated the room like cleaning potions or disinfectants. A wooden bucket in the corner caught her eye. As her eyes began to adjust fully to the darkened conditions, she recognized a mop, a box with writing on the side advertising some sort of miracle substance guaranteed to clean stains, and then finally, a broom. She thought she might be sick. Frantically searching the area, ignoring the pain that wouldn't stop, she took in her surroundings. It was just as she feared.

She was back inside the damned broom cupboard.