Draco laid her out on top of a kitchen table on his birthday. With her eyes closed, even knowing it was her husband, all she could imagine was it was the other wizard and she was back in Number Twelve. How wretched of a person was she that she couldn't even enjoy the encounter with Antonin without thinking of Draco? She hated herself. Every second of pleasure that passed, she loathed herself even more. It was wrong. Antonin deserved better than that. In a paltry attempt to make up for her traitorous mind, she made certain that she screamed out her husband's name when she came.