She couldn't finish her sentence. Not with the stricken expression on her husband's face when she brought up the night she was tortured almost to death. It was a failure of his as her husband in his mind. Maybe there would never be a day they could talk about it openly without him looking as if he was going to vomit. Annoyed that it might not work, Antonin kicked at the sofa, knocking it backwards several inches. Hermione had a suspicion where Aubin might've been hiding. And if it was the place she thought it was, Antonin was doing an excellent job of avoiding it. That knowledge lifted her spirits ever so slightly.