After rising from an empty bed after another night without her husband home, Hermione sat at the kitchen table looking over the copies of Andromeda's file she smuggled out of the Ministry. If Antonin came home to find her reviewing the documents, she might be in for another row. She wasn't worried. Her husband no longer frightened her. The amount of time she spent away from him on the run morphed him in her battered mind as some sort of unrealistic monster of mythical proportions. In her worry and fear, she forgot that no matter what he was capable of doing, he was still just a man. He wasn't the Dark Lord yet, and besides, she knew him well enough to know that he had no aspirations for immortality. The insanity that plagued their master from the very beginning wouldn't color her husband's reign.