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SEVENTY-ONE

They each looked toward the Book. "I suppose this is it, then," Antonin said, his voice impossibly soft despite the sound still going on around them. Hermione marveled that they'd been able to carry on conversations with all of that noise, let alone that they were about to ….

"Yes, and you saying it like that only adds to the ceremony of it all," she quipped.

Yet in that quip, he heard it. Her hesitation, her uncertainty.

He watched as she stood, taking the book from him and walking the few steps to set it upon the altar. Following suit, he came to halt behind her, his head tipped so he was looking at the ancient tome over her shoulder.

"Since you can't read it yet, I'll have to, won't I?"

She nodded, her voice still with that little hitch. "Yes. While we … I mean, when you …. Funny, we've done this and more than a few times by now, and suddenly I'm nervous."

He stepped around her, removing his cloak to drape it on the ground between them and the altar. He turned her so that—eventually—he would simply be able to look up and see the words inscribed on the page.

"Hope you're right about all this. I recognize the phonetics, and what bit I read to you already, but a lot of the words aren't in any language I've ever seen." He did have to wonder if that was deliberate, the book allowing him to understand just enough for them to get through this part.

"Just follow the terrible advice we give people learning English—sound them out."

A smirk curved his lips. She was stalling and he didn't blame her.

Crooking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face to meet her gaze. "Are you so nervous because we have an audience, or because our audience is, well, that?"

"Certainly doesn't help," she admitted before holding up her wand. "Then, there's relinquishing this while they're out there."

His heart sank suddenly, but he kept his expression untouched by the concern gnawing at him as he realized. "I think it's all part of the ritual."

"For me to be unable to defend myself?"

Antonin shook his head. "You already proved once you trust me. I think you have to do it again. This time … this time you have trust me enough to let yourself be vulnerable. Prove that you trust me enough to protect you if those wards break."

Chewing at her lower lip, she looked at her wand in her hand. "My God. I get it now! It's not only the ritual. This entire thing … the casting of the wards, your burst of hunger, figuring out how to get the book, it showing me its past … it was all prep work for the ritual."

Realizing she was probably correct, he gave a slow nod. His gaze followed hers, landing on her weapon. "Now is when you really have to decide if you want to go through with this, моя кошеня."

Hermione's gaze attention swept upward, locking on his eyes. She would miss that beautiful glinting ruby, she considered, as she reached backward to set her wand upon the altar.