Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter universe.

Full Summary: There has never been a safe place for Antonina Dolohov. Terrorized at home by her tyrannical mother and Death Eater father, she lost three years of her life to her mother's Imperius curse at the height of Lord Voldemort's power. Upon her mother's death she discovers she must protect her little sister Kira from the aftermath of a terrible war and the vestiges of their powerful, bloodthirsty family. Can she cooperate with the Ministry and the Order to bring her father to justice?

Warnings: Violence, language, post-war, with mentions of abuse both mental and physical.

Author's Note: I lost my way for a while and haven't posted here in more than a year. It was about time I came back, and I thought this was the perfect fic to post. Please review if you like this. I really enjoy writing it, and it's good practice to bust through my writer's block.


Kira's pale face peered at me in the gloom, her blue eyes huge with terror. Reaching out to clasp my sister's hand, I pressed my index finger against my lips to indicate she should be quiet. We stood tense and rigid in her bedroom. Light from the hallway crept under the crack beneath the door, reaching for the toes of our shoes. Looking down, I stared at my sister's flimsy sandals, wishing desperately that we'd had more time to do this.

Was that our father downstairs? Or someone else... He could be dead, or captured, and we wouldn't know until we read about it in the Prophet. I scoured rubbish bins outside the Ministry hoping to find a copy of the newspaper, but there was nothing about Antonin Dolohov anywhere besides the occasional printing of his wanted poster. I wasn't sure what I'd feel if I found my father's name in the obituaries. Relief, perhaps; one less evil man in the world would benefit everyone.

"Nina," my sister breathed. I squeezed her hand and hoped she wouldn't say anything more. The floorboards creaked in the room below us. Kira trembled. I took her by the shoulders and looked at her.

"Take my broom," I hissed, lifting one hand and pointing at the window. "Climb out and fly away." I let my sister go but she scrabbled for me in fear even as I went to pick up my broom, the handle blissfully familiar in my hand as I took it from where I'd left it, resting against the wall. The bags we'd been packing with our things sat on her bed, mine zipped up and ready to go, hers still opened and bulging with clothes and the few precious things she loved. I came back to her and thrust the broom into her hands.

"I can't," Kira said, her voice rising with fear. I clasped her face between my hands and fiercely kissed her forehead.

"You have to," I told her when my lips left her skin. I urged her towards the window. Reaching out, I unlatched the lock and flung the window open wide. We'd come in through the back door, having paced the perimeter of the house until I'd broken through the magical wards. They felt like my fathers; sturdy and hard. Father had run when Lord Voldemort was defeated, but mother stayed. She was killed by Aurors in a wand fight a few days after, and though I didn't find out the details straight away I knew she was gone when all the strings holding me up snapped. I was free, and she was gone. Reading about it in the Daily Prophet was inconsequential.

"Come with me." Tears were welling up in my sister's eyes. "Don't make me go on my own."

"You need to get somewhere safe," I said softly. I could hear voices now, from downstairs. It seemed likely that they didn't know we were here yet, but soon they would. The prickle I'd felt running down my back spelled out danger. I attempted a smile to bolster my sister's courage. "I'll come find you soon. I'm just going to see who's downstairs."

"No," Kira gasped, her dark eyes blowing wide. "Please, Nina. Don't do it."

"Hey, don't worry about me," I said. "I'll be fine." Zipping up her bag, I set the strap over her shoulder and brushed her hair away from her forehead with my fingers. "Be brave for me, mola lyev."

My sister hesitated before slowly climbing out the window and onto the sloping roof outside her bedroom. She looked back at me and I nodded encouragingly, watching her climb onto the broom. She was so little, her frame fragile. Kira was so tiny a gust of wind could throw her right off the broomstick, but her grip was strong on the handle. Like I'd taught her.

When she kicked off into the air, I blew her a kiss and shut the window. Standing in her room, I waited until she'd disappeared from sight before I focused on the noises downstairs again. My steps towards the door were as silent as they could be on the wooden floor. Drawing my wand I stood and listened, hearing several people talking. After a few moments I determined there were two men and one woman. Perhaps more.

Stretching my hand out towards the doorknob, I carefully twisted it and opened the door a crack, enough to hear the intruder's voices better. "Are you sure Dolohov isn't here?" one of the men said, his voice bristling with anger.

"Why would he come back here, anyway?" the woman countered. "He doesn't care about his family. He's hardly even human. He's been working for you-know-who from the very beginning. He's a monster, and monsters don't die easy. He's still out there, I can guarantee it."

Listening, I leaned my weight forwards and started to inch out of Kira's bedroom. I held my breath for so long as I shuffled towards the landing of the stairs that my chest began to ache. My own body felt like a prison again as I desperately begged it not to give me away, not to tread too heavily or breathe too loudly. I hadn't been in control of myself in three years. I wasn't sure if I was in control now either.

"We'll find him," another man said. All their voices were unknown to me. I wanted to know who they were, to see their faces at least once, but in my distraction my foot came down on a creaky floorboard. As the others fell silent I felt myself become still, nervous and unsure. "Did you hear that?"

"There's no one here," the woman said impatiently. "We should get back to headquarters and let them know this was a waste of time."

"Hold on, just be quiet." The voice was closer to the stairs now. My heart bolted like a frightened horse at the shock but I lifted my wand out in front of me and waited, my muscles tightly knotted, for the man to come up the stairs. I heard each footfall as he climbed the steps. The instant I saw his head, caught his eye, I fired off a curse that narrowly missed his left ear and scorched the wall behind him instead.

"Bloody hell!" the other man swore, a few more choice words tumbling from his mouth as he came racing to his comrade's defense. Furious and scared I rattled of jinxes and curses one after the other, pushing the man back down the stairs as I took up the high ground on the landing. I could hold them off, maybe incapacitate one of them, then run. From the balcony of my parents room there was a way down to the ground. The woods bordered the property and led out onto country roads and fields full of grazing livestock. There were places to hide, if it became necessary. I couldn't think straight, though, and fleeing would just lead me further away from my sister.

Hitting the man who'd come up the stairs with a full body-bind curse, I ducked out of sight and stood panting with my back against the wall as I heard the wizard's body thud down the steps. "Harry!" the other man yelped. My ears strained for any sound of attack, I heard someone being dragged across the floor; probably the one I'd hit with the body-bind. "Dolohov? Are you up there, you son of a bitch?"

Furrowing my brow, I contemplated the disgust and fury in the man's voice. "No," I called back. "I'm the only one here." There was silence from downstairs for a moment and I smiled to myself. "I'm his daughter, but I'm no soft touch myself." Comparing myself to my father made my stomach lurch, but over the years I'd done terrible things. Free will was not a concept grasped by Lord Voldemort. Nor by my mother, it seemed.

The Imperius curse was like a dream, a strange and confusing dream that oftentimes turned to hellish nightmares. Coming out of it hurt after being under for so long, especially since it was broken in the most volatile way: by the death of my mother, the witch who'd cast it on me in the first place. I was just as guilty as my father, who took other people's pain and made it his pleasure.

"Where's Antonin?" the woman yelled up the stairs.

"Rotting in a shallow grave somewhere," I said venomously. Hugging the wall, I edged towards my parents bedroom and pushed open the door. Pausing, I struggled to imagine my parents spending a happy night in this room. Their entire marriage was punctuated by slavish devotion and cruelty. Love was not a factor in this household. Love was a rare gift that was strangled like a sapling on the forest floor before it could ever reach the light.

"Why did you attack?" The woman sounded as though she didn't care about the answer. Perhaps these people had painted me as a Death Eater, so naturally attacking would be my first instinct. I rolled my eyes at her comment.

"You're in my house. What do you expect?" I swallowed and ducked into the room, shutting the door behind me and speeding across to the French doors leading onto the balcony. Flinging them open, I wondered how long it would take for the intruders to realize I was no longer on the offensive. Not long at all, as it turned out.

I'd only just thrown both legs over the railing of the balcony when the bedroom door splintered and flew open. Almost slipping, I turned my head to see a dark-haired older woman brandishing a wand. "Impedimenta!" she cried. I didn't have the time to cast a shield charm and the spell hit me in the back, freezing me on the spot with my wand only half-raised. Off balance, my stunned body slipped over the edge of the balcony.

The ground came roaring up towards me.