Walking away from Antonin the next morning was harder than Hermione expected it to be. She'd been able to forget about the rest of the world when they were alone. Maybe it was all just an illusion that she was allowing herself to use to pretend her world wasn't complete shite, but it was effective. She could almost imagine when she was lying next to Antonin that there was a future to be had that was worth having. Delusions that perhaps there would come a day when the power struggle would end and she could walk away relatively unscathed seemed possible when she wasn't alone. Whether it was the fact that Antonin was who he was or if it was just the general feeling of not being alone that gave her courage she wasn't sure. All she knew was that when she kissed her husband goodbye and stepped out into the early morning sun, she felt a profound sense of anxiety, fear that nothing good was ever going to happen to her again.