Fire flashed in his eyes at her defiant words. His hand twitched at his side. He wanted to do something, but he wasn't sure what. Hit her again? Draw his wand? Neither would really solve anything. He could silence her, either through magic or force, but he wouldn't be able to take that smug look off of her face. She did know — or had guessed, at any rate. Nothing short of muddling her memories would take that knowledge from her. The idea bounced around his head once, but then he discarded it — even in the heat of his anger in this moment, he had no use for a witless wife. Lucius had had his mouse long enough to get half a dozen children from her, but Antigone couldn't even do that; if he ruined her mind, there would be no reason to keep her around. He may as well just kill her — and after working so hard to keep her alive during her last pregnancy and through the disastrous labor, letting her die now seemed almost like a personal failure.

Tiberius Lestrange was not a man used to failure, and he'd had quite enough of it already. He wouldn't let her ruin everything with this one needling moment in the hallway. Shooting her an ugly look, he shoved the arm she was still holding across him out of the way and turned back towards the door.