A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites and follows! It means a lot and I hope you keep enjoying this. I am sure there will be some historical inaccuracies or anachronisms in here, so give me a holler if you find one that is really too awful. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post occasional sneak peeks and other bits. Also, full credit on "Reuben Yaxley" to calebski. I really can't imagine him having any other name after all of calebski's great work.

Antonin is actually in this chapter, so I hope that you enjoy. Please let me know what you thought of chapter two and be on the lookout for chapter three soon!


The day that Hermione was to leave the Merope Gaunt Home for Half-Blood and Mudblood Girls came sooner than expected, but with the new revelations from Minerva, it didn't seem as much like a punishment any longer. If anything, Hermione thought that it would be a great opportunity.

Dressed in her best robes, she was accompanied by Umbridge to the docks, where they would meet the other girls who were also headed off to Canada. Hermione was excited to meet some of the other girls, as she'd really only had Myrtle and Penelope the last few years, and the three of them just didn't really have anything in common.

"There it is!" Umbridge called cheerfully. It looked like their first portkey - to Belfast - was to be a giant metal anchor. Hermione supposed it was a good idea, because there were a lot of girls - perhaps fifteen in total - coming along for the journey, and she would hate to have to jostle to get a hold of the thing. "Go on then." Umbridge said, pushing Hermione roughly forward.

Hermione was glad that the woman didn't try to say goodbye to her, because at this point, Hermione refused to exchange false pleasantries with the woman who had made her life hell for the last seven years. The woman who took her from her parents and was sending her to another country with the hope that she'd be miserable.

With her trunk shrunk in her pocket, Hermione stumbled forward, grabbing onto a piece of the anchor. Hermione had never taken a portkey before, so she wasn't excepting the spinning feeling in her stomach when it suddenly activated, sending the world around her in a blur.

Falling flat on her arse in the docks of Belfast, Hermione looked around, barely paying attention to the handler who was bringing them overseas. It seemed that the next leg of their journey, to Reykjavik, would have to be by boat, because portkey technology did not currently allow travel across such long distances.

She was helped up by a girl with long blonde hair and a pleasant, dreamy expression on her pale face. "Hello. My name is Luna." She said, her voice just slightly lilting. It made Hermione feel welcomed in a way that she hadn't previously experienced in the wizarding world.

"Thank you, Luna. I'm Hermione." She said, returning the smile, and smoothing the skirts of her robes. Biting her lower lip, she wanted to get a bit more information about her traveling companion. "Are you a muggleborn witch as well, Luna?" She knew it wasn't exactly appropriate to talk about blood status in public places.

Luna shook her head, sending her hair whipping back and forth around her head. "No, I am a half-blood."

"Why did your parents send you?" Hermione asked, unable to contain her curiosity, especially considering she had significant anger at her parents for just letting her be taken away. Maybe she and Luna might have a bit more in common.

"Oh, I'm a ward of the state, so I didn't really have a choice." Luna said as though she were discussing the temperature of her tea. "My father was arrested last year for being a political dissident." She told Hermione, matter-of-factly.

Her mother as unspoken and it seemed rude of Hermione to bring it up. "What did your father do?" Umbridge only ever shared good news about King Voldemort, so news that there was any kind of faction working against him was news to her.

"Oh, he wrote some things about King Voldemort that weren't well received." Luna said, before shrugging toward the waiting boat. "Shall we settle ourselves aboard?" She grabbed Hermione by the hand and began leading the way.

Once they were onboard, they found themselves seated next to a girl with brilliant red colored hair, pin straight and perfect. The girl was the epitome of prettiness, Hermione thought, unlike her wildly brown hair and slightly too large teeth. Luna introduced them.

"I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley." The red haired girl told them. Luna seemed to recognize the last name of their new companion, but Hermione didn't.

"Are you...are you a muggleborn?" Hermione asked a bit stupidly. She felt that, like Luna, perhaps she should already know who this Ginny Weasley was.

Ginny laughed. "No, I am a pureblood. Probably the only one out of this whole group." She said, her brown eyes sweeping over the deck, looking at the other girls, before turning back to Luna and Hermione. "My parents couldn't afford my dowry, owing to the fact that I have six older brothers."

"But how could they just send you to another country? You might never see them again." Hermione asked, a bit aghast. It was easier for her to leave - she didn't really have any family left.

"Well, it was really just too much money to pass up." Ginny said, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair. "And I thought that it might be a bit of an adventure." Hermione could agree with that idea, as she thought exploring a new world would be an adventure. A terrifying adventure.

With little fanfare, the boat pushed off from the port and they began their journey to Iceland. The three girls got along quite well with one another, and Hermione felt hope bubble up inside of her that this might not be all that bad.

After all, with such a concentrated population, it wasn't as if she wouldn't ever be able to see Luna and Ginny, and really, it would be wonderful to have real friends.


From Reykjavik, the girls were ferried via portkey from Greenland, to St. John's, to Halifax, to their final destination, which Hermione understood to be an hour's broom ride from Quebec, near to the Saint Lawrence river.

She was so tired at the end of it, getting barely four hours of uninterrupted sleep on the ship from Belfast, she thought she might fall asleep on her feet. With Luna and Ginny, they followed the rest of the girls to a large barracks that had been prepared for their arrival. A comfortable bed to rest on, Hermione fell asleep immediately and then slept until morning.

When morning came, they were woken by the woman that would be running this new barracks. The girls were each given a bath and told to dress. Her trunk returned to its usual size, Hermione looked for something comfortable to wear, but was dismayed to learn that what she had packed really wasn't suited for the weather.

Afterwards, the girls were all brought into a front living room for a short interview with the woman in charge, an extremely prissy woman known as Septima Vector. She interviewed each of the girls briefly, before informing the group that the first set of suitors would be by that day to meet with them, and possibly even select brides.

Hermione couldn't believe that she hadn't even been there a full day and already they were trying to match them up. With her heart beating wildly in her chest, Hermione cursed herself for taking such fastidious care of herself while bathing, thinking that it might make her seem more attractive.

Also, she was a bit annoyed that the men would just waltz in and pick one of them, and then she wouldn't even have the opportunity to decline their suit. It was nearly barbaric.

She sat with Ginny and Luna, and Luna commented on her hands shaking, but nothing the other two said could calm their nerves. The first man to arrive was a tall blond man, with long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. He had decidedly cruel gray eyes, and a permanent scowl on his face.

He scanned the room, looking over all the girls before settling on their little cluster in the corner. He crossed the room in long strides, before stopping in front of them. "You, are you a Weasley?" He demanded of Ginny.

Hermione once again felt a bit stupid that she didn't know who the Weasleys were before the previous day. Ginny stood and curtseyed. "Yes, Ginny Weasley, sir. And you must be Lucius Malfoy." She countered.

The blond man, Malfoy, gave a self satisfied smirk. "Well spotted, Miss Weasley. You'll do. Come along."

And just like that, Hermione's new friend Ginny was pulled out of her life, just as quickly as she'd been put in. Hermione was so thankful that Malfoy hadn't even given her a second glance. "He picked her because she was a pureblood." Luna said, perhaps trying to comfort Hermione, though it only made her wonder what kind of fate she would have if she ended up with a husband who despised muggleborns.

The two other men that came by that day left without choosing a bride, to Hermione's joy.

That night, in the dark of the barracks, Hermione whispered her plan to Luna. She told her that they would be able to claim their dowries for themselves should a husband not be found for them after one year. Luna was surprised to hear this fact, and agreed that it would be preferable to marrying someone she didn't know.

The next two weeks passed slowly, and Hermione and Luna passed their time embroidering under the strict eye of Septima, helping to prepare food, reading quietly, or playing cards with one another. They'd already gotten through a second round of suitors without even being spoken to.

Hermione's hopes were up that they could actually make it. How long would it take before all the men had been by? As she'd heard it said, it was quite the compact little society here in Canada.

The third time that suitors came by, they were not as lucky. Two men came in, who were clearly related to one another. Each had dark hair with bright blue eyes, but one was considerably larger than the other, while the younger one looked a bit rakish. He had an easy smile, and showed off white teeth while he looked around the room like a predator.

To Hermione's horror, his eyes seemed to linger the longest on Luna's laughing face, and before long he was walking over to their table. "Hello Miss…?" He said, his eyes solely on Hermione's best friend. Luna's pale cheeks were quickly overcome with two telltale red spots when he kissed her hand.

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood." She responded quietly. Hermione watched in horror while her new friend's face seemed to transform in shy admiration of the older man. Sure he was good looking enough, but Hermione had thought Luna was on board with avoiding marriage.

The man's face was transformed by a wide smile, making him look much more welcoming, but Hermione still thought he was likely a wolf in sheep's clothing. "I'm Rabastan. Rabastan Lestrange." He asked Luna a few more questions about herself and what she did before she left England, before finally proposing to her. "Luna, I think you and I are well suited. How would you like to come with me, get married?"

Hermione held her breath until Luna finally nodded her head yes. With her eyes closed to blink away surely forming tears, Hermione hugged Luna tightly and wished her all of the best in her new life.

Luna cocked her head to the side. "I am sure it won't be long until we see each other again soon, Hermione." Hermione hated the eerie way Luna made pronouncements like that. They usually ended up being true.

But Hermione wasn't just going to roll over and let some Death Eater take her and marry her. With her two friends gone, Hermione was even more determined to last the entire year, collect her dowry, and then...who knew what her future would hold.

She watched with a heavy heart as Luna and Rabastan walked away, collecting the larger man on their way out. He'd been leering at a pair of giggling twin girls, with annoying names like Flotsam and Jetsam. "Come on, brother. You already have a wife." Rabastan said, clapping the man on the back and leading him from the house.


Antonin Dolohov was a man of few friends and fewer words. He'd come to England when he was just a lad, at the insistence of his mother, newly widowed, and looking for the luxury that was abundant in England. She envisioned herself being a young socialite and England was the promise of a new life without her oppressive husband holding her back.

Things didn't exactly go to plan when she realized that English society had little tolerance for a half-blood witch, with two brats, who couldn't speak a lick of English. By the time that he'd gone to Hogwarts for schooling, he was nearly completely isolated from anyone but his mother and older sister.

When he got to school, he was held back by his thick Russian accent, intense embarrassment from speaking to others, and general misunderstanding of social customs. His sister tried to help out, but for the most part, she'd done her time integrating into Hogwarts, and wouldn't be held back by an annoying little brother.

It wasn't until he'd gotten into his first duel in the hallways that his classmates began to respect him. He'd gotten a week of detention and a reputation for being dark, but at least his classmates weren't shoving him around any more. Plus, he didn't understand why his spells should be considered dark when they were commonly used in Russia.

He passed through the rest of Hogwarts mostly friendless, occasionally spending time with Rabastan Lestrange, but desperate to belong. So, when King Voldemort - just a revolutionary at that point - began recruiting men for his uprising, Antonin jumped at the chance. With his reputation as a dark wizard he was gladly embraced into the Death Eaters.

It was while he was working with the Death Eaters that he became much closer with Rabastan Lestrange and Reuben Yaxley. The three of them went on multiple missions together, and after five years they stood victorious, Voldemort crowned as King.

Only, it didn't take Antonin long to realize that Voldemort was just more of the same. Lavish parties, wasteful spending, and the oppression of a new group. Only now, dark magic was widely accepted. Before he knew it, Antonin despised Voldemort and the whole regime, but he suffered in silence, growing more and more bitter each day, until ten years had passed at it was more of the same.

When King Voldemort told Antonin he was sending him on the expedition to Canada, it was the final straw. Antonin didn't want to go to a cold wilderness, alone with some odd thirty men. Sure, his friends would be there too, but Antonin didn't want to put in all this work to get a colony to run smoothly just to be exploited by King Voldemort.

But, he'd been too stubborn or too cowardly to say no, and before he knew it he was in Canada. Now, a year later, King Voldemort was once again trying to impose his supreme will on Antonin. They were bringing women to the colony, which was a distraction that they just didn't fucking need right now. It was a barely functioning community as is.

Sitting at one of the back tables with Reuben at the bar - which was conveniently the first structure they'd constructed - he scowled at the thick beer he was drinking. They had gone through the firewhiskey the first eight months. "Why isn't Rabastan here?" He demanded gruffly.

His friend smiled at him, little wrinkles at the corner of his sharp blue eyes. "You know that Rab went to pick out a wife today. I would say that because of his absence, he was successful."

Antonin hoped that whatever wife he'd picked was someone that Rabastan would actually like to marry, and not just the best of a bad bunch. "I don't know why he'd even bother with that." It was true. Rabastan had seemed the eternal bachelor, but perhaps after being surrounded by only other men in the colony, he was ready to settle down.

"You should go sooner rather than later, at least just to look." Yaxley encouraged. "Before all the good ones are taken. I heard that Malfoy got the only pureblood of the lot."

That was another thing that made Antonin grind his teeth. King Voldemort preached about the dangers of mudbloods, but then continued to bring them into their society, selling them to pureblood families to serve. And then, he even sent them to the colony to marry. It was hypocritical at best. "You know that's not my game." He told Yaxley with a scowl. As a boy, Antonin had continually been reminded that he was just a half-blood, so blood purity was never something he embraced whole-heartedly.

"Still, there might not be many pretty ones left." Yaxley continued needling.

"I don't see you looking." Antonin countered with a sneer. He didn't want a wife, and if he had his way, he'd never set foot inside that glorified auction house.

"You know I've got a wife." Reuben responded darkly. True, he had a wife he hated back in England, one he was only too happy to leave behind. Really, Antonin thought, it wouldn't surprise him if Reuben did get a new wife to replace one he had back home. "Don't you think it's only a matter of time before they make you get one? We both know they will be wanting us to make a good example."

Antonin shook his head. He thought that the women were supposed to encourage more people to come over from England, but it wouldn't look good if the men in the colony didn't even enjoy the privilege. Still, Antonin known who he was, and it wouldn't push his short temper and terrible moods onto some unsuspecting girl. He was nearly through with taking orders. "Don't see how I could make a good example for anyone."

Reuben gave a hearty laugh at Antonin's words. It was true that his taciturn friend wasn't likely to be made the poster boy for any government sponsored program. He'd rose in the ranks because of his ruthlessness and disregard for the rules, not for being likable. "Well, I can drink to that mate."

The two knocked their mugs together, before drinking deeply. Antonin was determined to press the filles du roi out of his thoughts.