Hermione felt more like herself when she woke up on Sunday morning. The potions that she'd been taking at the request of her Healers and the demand of her husband were finished. She didn't have to take another one unless her head started to hurt her again. And if it started hurting, she had no intention of actually telling Antonin. While she appreciated him taking care of her while she was stuck in bed, he was getting on her nerves. There was such a thing as too much nurturing. If she had to endure him entering the room one more time to stand over her just staring, she was going to snap... again. They'd been having such a pleasant time together, for the most part, since she returned home. She would hate to have to stab him again.