Hermione sat at the table in the kitchen waiting for her husband to return home with a churning in her gut. Intuition told her to worry. Antonin left the protection of their home before the sun even rose that morning. An entire day and much of the night had come and gone with no word, no indication if he was alive or dead. It was clear that she would have to leave again the first real chance she had. Sitting around waiting to hear bad news was no way to live.