Chapter Seven
Sometime after three in the morning Antonin found himself wide awake. He wasn't sure what exactly woke him up to begin with, but he knew returning to the deep sleep he'd been enjoying earlier would not be easy. The damned dog was still snoring in front of the fireplace. He couldn't believe he'd actually allowed the witch to convince him to leave the animal in the bedroom. If anyone else attempted to do what she did, he would've thrown the witch out of his bedroom with the dog.
He picked up his wand off of the nightstand to send a silencing charm at the smelly dog. His snores immediately silenced allowed the tiny, almost charming snores coming from the woman next to him to be heard. Antonin carefully rolled over onto his side to examine the source of the noise. At some point in the night, Hermione had shifted closer to the middle of the large bed. She'd kicked the bedcovers off of the right side of her body. Both of her arms were raised over her head. Her pajama top separated from her bottoms to reveal several inches of creamy white skin on her stomach. Antonin had to resist the urge to reach over and touch the bare flesh illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the uncovered windows. He clenched his fist to resist the enticement.
She would likely be embarrassed if she knew how closely he was watching her in her relaxed state. Especially considering the small, adorable snores still coming out of her body. Antonin felt a bit guilty for staring, but he knew the chances of this opportunity presenting itself again were slim. She was still very awkward and ill at ease in his presence. It was to be expected, of course. He could only imagine the rampant fears raging through her obviously overactive brain.
He had seen the fear in her eyes when he pulled her body into his chest during their argument. Her eyes had grown wide and despite his assurances that he wouldn't assault her under any conditions, he knew she was afraid that he was about to do exactly what he said he wouldn't do. Of course, to be fair, if she'd shown any indication that she was interested, he would've thrown her on the bed and made her scream. He settled for the barest hint of a kiss. She didn't slap him or scream. He would consider that progress. It was encouraging at least.
Antonin continued to stare at the young witch in his bed. He'd been denying his desires to himself for so long when it came to her. Now that she was inches away in the most personal of places he couldn't deny that he wanted more than just to simply keep her safe. He wanted her, all of her. Of course he couldn't imagine his fantasies moving anywhere close to reality. Their history wasn't exactly an easy one for them to move past. How many successful relationships began with attempted murder at first sight? Even in the semi-darkness he could see the hints of the scar on her belly. He didn't have to see how long it was to know that he'd done irreparable harm to her body in the past.
Part of his hatred for Lucius Malfoy was because the damned wizard accused him of being the tiniest bit obsessed with the woman back when they were in cells next to each other in Azkaban. At the time he denied his interest in her vehemently, but Lucius never gave up his mocking taunts throughout their months-long incarceration. Lucius was relentless. When he found out that Antonin specifically requested her from the Dark Lord, Lucius had a veritable field day. The blonde wizard was a constant reminder to him of the harrowing days following the massive Department of Mysteries fuck-up when he thought, feared that the girl who silenced him was dead. He hated, hated when Lucius reminded him of those long, lonely months in his freezing cold cell.
Hermione shifted further across the bed in her sleep. When she rolled over to lie on her stomach, she brushed her body against Antonin's. Her pajama top slip up just a little bit further to expose more of her delicate back. Antonin clenched and unclenched his hand several times before giving in to the temptation. He laid his left hand on the exposed skin with only the smallest hint of pressure. She stirred a bit when his palm made contact. Antonin prepared himself to rip his hand away, but at the last second she just sighed and settled back into what seemed to be a restful sleep. Antonin was surprised by how warm the small of her back felt. He'd expected her to be cool to the touch now that she was no longer suffering from a high fever.
He hardly dared breathe while his flesh made contact with her flesh. A small voice in the back of his subconscious told him he was being pretty creepy by touching a sleeping woman's back, but he had a lifetime of experience ignoring the voices telling him not to do something he wanted. Thoughts of earlier in the evening flashed through his mind. He wished he'd kissed her harder and longer. He hoped another opportunity or several would present themselves to him. She looked like a woman who needed to be kissed by a man who knew what he was doing. He might be a little rusty, but it was like riding a broom. It would all come back to him at the required moment.
His thoughts strayed to that morning when he entered his room… their room to find her standing there wearing nothing but a towel. He'd had to almost fly out of the room to prevent his inner primal beast from coming out and ravishing her right then and there. She couldn't imagine how beautiful she looked in that moment. How fresh, how unbelievably, god-damned sexy. Antonin pulled his hand off of her back like she was formed of molten lava. Those kinds of thoughts didn't bear thinking when he had no outlet. If there was ever a time that the gorgeous, young witch in his bed allowed him the liberties he so desired, it certainly wasn't that moment. Certainly not while she was still asleep and scared to be in his presence.
Antonin carefully rose from the bed. He needed a distraction that would allow his mind to shut off those kinds of thoughts. He covered his pajamas with a warm bathrobe hanging just inside the closet and slipped on a pair of slippers one of the elves left warming by the fire. Argos lifted a sleepy eye at his movements, but upon realizing Antonin wasn't the human he was interested in, the immense dog went back to sleep, his obnoxious snores still silenced.
The wizard pushed the bedroom door open carefully in an effort to prevent waking up the other occupant of the room. A quick glance at the bed proved his efforts to be successful. He slipped out into the corridor. There was a full bottle of fire whiskey waiting for him in the library. A drink or two might be just what he needed to feel tired enough to fall back asleep.
Loud shrieks sounded from the inside of the master's suite when he passed it in the corridor. Antonin readied his wand for a potential threat until further sounds from within filtered out to prove that Rabastan was in no danger. He rolled his eyes at the noises before quickening his pace. The last thing he needed to hear was evidence that his friend was active in the bedroom. He shuddered as he thought about the variety of available women Lestrange brought home. Some of them Antonin wouldn't have touched with a ten foot wand. Rabastan was a man of varied tastes. The reminder that others in the manor were enjoying intimate acts didn't make Antonin's problem any easier.
Thankfully the library was empty and the fire whiskey was waiting. He lowered himself down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The elves always kept a fire going in the room for Argos' benefit. He wondered if that would change now that the dog had claimed his witch as his human. To make Hermione happy he'd be willing to put up with the animal despite his protestations earlier. It was really a small thing that obviously made her happy. At this point there wasn't much in her life that brought her joy.
He hated how unsure he felt when it came to her future. The Dark Lord ordered him to keep her safe. Why? What kind of nefarious purpose did he have planned for the witch? There were so many possibilities he could imagine and none of them were good. In a perfect world he would be able to take her somewhere private where she wasn't subjected to the whims of his master.
Two glasses later he found his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He returned to their room making sure to rush past the master's suite. Antonin was careful not to make any noise or shift the bed too much when he crawled back under the covers. At some point in the hour he was gone Hermione rolled back over to her own side of the bed. He couldn't suppress the feeling of disappointment at that fact.
"Were you just summoned?"
The quiet voice surprised Antonin. He'd just closed his eyes when she spoke. He opened his eyes to see her lying on her side staring at him.
"No, I wasn't summoned," he answered.
"Where'd you go?" Her voice was low and sleepy.
"I couldn't sleep. I went to the library."
She closed her eyes and softly nodded her head in approval of his answer.
"Reading always helps me too."
He didn't want to admit that he'd been drinking. A book hadn't even been cracked the entire time he was down there.
"The bed was getting cold," she added. "I almost invited Argos to take your place."
He could tell she was teasing him and chuckled in response.
"I guess it's a good thing I returned when I did."
"Mmm hmm. He would've been overjoyed taking your place, but I don't think you would've been happy taking his spot on the rug."
He chuckled again at her words. They gave him the tiniest bit of hope. If they could have light, teasing pillow talk maybe this situation they'd found themselves in could be successful. Maybe there was some kind of future.
"Yes, you're right. I'm too old to sleep on the floor. I might've had to kick you out while Argos and I enjoyed the bed."
She snorted a quiet, indelicate snort that was utterly adorable.
"I don't think so," she replied. "I get the feeling, Antonin, that now that you've got me in your bed, you're not going to let me leave it."
Well, he couldn't exactly argue with the witch.
More than a solid week passed of daily summons from morning until late in the night. Some days it felt like Antonin had only been in bed a couple of hours before his mark was burning again. There were several days that he left the manor before Hermione woke up and then came home long after she was asleep. There had been no time to discuss the kiss and no opportunities for another try. It had been frustrating to say the least.
Antonin stood on the edges of the Headmaster's Office attempting to tune out the screams of the poor woman lying across the ornate desk. He would never get used to the callous sexual tortures that so many of his fellow Death Eaters employed. It was beyond disgusting. There were really no words for how horrific the sexual assault of an innocent woman was. He struggled to keep an impassive countenance while the woman screamed and cried as Walden Macnair raped her in front of the thirty or forty of the Inner Circle assembled before the Dark Lord.
The poor girl's crime? Simply being the beloved sister of Thorfinn Rowle. The young, naïve Death Eater made a foolish error a week earlier when they were closing in on a meeting of Undesirables. The top four Undesirables Longbottom, Shacklebolt, George Weasley and Dumbledore's little brother were in the same location in a rundown London warehouse. Thorfinn had knowledge of their whereabouts and despite having a dozen Death Eaters at his disposal, every single one of them escaped. In an effort to impress upon Rowle that his failures had consequences, the Dark Lord called for his younger sister Reina to be brought to Hogwarts. Macnair volunteered for the retrieval mission. Sick, demented bastard.
Thorfinn expected repeated exposures to the Cruciatus Curse or perhaps death. When he was dragged into the Headmasters Office and thrown at the feet of the Dark Lord, he had the resolved countenance of one who was willing and ready to die. His courage in the face of what he was thought was certain death was admirable. Even though Antonin found a lot to despise about the man, he felt that Rowle had a lot to be proud of in the manner with which he met his death.
Except he was still very much alive. Tied up in front of the desk in perfect view of the defilement of his little sister. It was a running joke amongst the Death Eaters that Reina Rowle was a changeling left by the fairies. She was a sweet, good-natured Hufflepuff who was about as different from the heavily cruel Slytherin Rowle family as ice is from fire. If she hadn't been born with the same piercing blue eyes of her elder brother and didn't look like a much more attractive and feminine Thorfinn, there would've been speculation that she was the product of an illicit liaison. Her brother was intensely protective of the twenty-one year old witch. Their parents were both dead and they were very close. Many an unsuspecting Death Eater had found themselves at the mercy of Thofinn's wand or his beefy fists after making a disparaging remark about his little sister.
Antonin couldn't believe that what he was witnessing was considered an appropriate punishment. It was beyond cruel. Slitting the man's throat inch by inch with a rusty blade would've been kinder. Rowle had done exactly what just about every other person in that room would've done in his position. Begged, pleaded, sobbed, vomited, begged some more, offered his life in exchange. It all fell on deaf ears. The Dark Lord had a nasty habit of taking what one of his followers loved or cared for most and destroying it in creatively harsh ways. It was enough to make Antonin hope that in the event of a massive fuck-up of his own that it was bad enough that he was killed by the enemy. He didn't want anyone else to have to pay for his own failures.
"Thank you, Walden," said the Dark Lord, effectively ending the rape of Reina Rowle.
Walden pulled away from the young woman and adjusted his trousers. The feral grin he beamed down at the girl was enough to make Antonin's stomach twist and turn.
"Please take Miss Rowle to the room prepared down in the dungeons for her. She will be our guest for a few days."
Macnair dragged her out of the room screaming. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the poor woman's assault would continue when she was taken to the dungeons. It was easy to tell from the glint in Walden's eyes that he believed his fun was just beginning. Antonin choked down the bile that was slowly rising up his esophagus. He turned his attention away from the sobbing woman to fall on the sobbing man tied up at the foot of the desk. Thorfinn was lying on the hardwood floor despite the magical bounds still wrapped around his arms and legs. Every inch of his usually fair skin was deathly pale. A swift kick to his abdomen from Gary Goyle at the Dark Lord's behest stilled his sobs for the moment.
"I do hope you have learned your lesson, Thorfinn," the Dark Lord wheezed. He had been steadily growing weaker since the day he killed Harry Potter. There were rumors that he was dying, but no one was certain if he even could die. "I know that you desire to be closer to your young sister, Thorfinn, so I have had a guest suite prepared for you as well down in the dungeons. As long as your sister remains in our custody, you will remain in the castle."
Goyle and Vince Crabbe took their cue from the Dark Lord to lift the massive young Death Eater off of the floor. While he was still bound, the two wizards drug him out of the office on towards his "guest suite". No doubt he was simply going to be thrown into the cell next to sister where he was sure to be able to hear and witness every single subsequent assault made upon her person.
"I am very disappointed in the failure to apprehend those rebels who have been fighting so diligently to overthrow what we have created," he continued. "Let this evening be a lesson to you all that there will be consequences to your failures in following my orders."
He dismissed them all moments later. Antonin was close enough to the door to the office that he didn't have to wait long to be able to escape. His thoughts were consumed with simply getting back to the manor as soon as possible. There was a bottle he wanted to crawl into waiting for him.
The manor was dark when he arrived at the front door. Even the elves were off in their little nests for the night. A clock in the entrance hall showed that it was past two am. His mind was still racing from the events of the evening. No way he would be able to climb up the stairs and prepare himself for bed. Antonin headed straight for the library where he had a fresh bottle of fire whiskey calling his name.
Antonin pushed open the door to the library with such force that the unexpected occupant of the room squeaked in surprise and dropped the book she was reading. Argos lifted his head up from Hermione's lap to view the intruder.
"I'm sorry," Antonin apologized. "I didn't expect anyone else to be in here at this hour."
Hermione smiled a tentative little smile in his direction.
"I had trouble sleeping," she explained.
Antonin crossed the room to the small table that held the whiskey and glasses. He poured himself a single glass, swallowed it down immediately, and then proceeded to refill his glass and another. Argos hopped down off of the couch when he approached. The wizard seated himself on the center cushion right next to Hermione. At first she tried to wave off the offer of the whiskey, but he wouldn't take no as an answer.
"It's been a long time since I had anything to drink. I'm not sure I will be able to handle it."
"If you get too drunk to walk after one glass, I'll carry you to bed," he promised.
Antonin leaned his head on the back of the sofa and released a loud sigh. Hermione watched his movements as she sipped at her drink. Based on the scrunched up expression on her face when she took a drink, he assumed that her experience with the liquor was limited. Witches in his experience usually stayed away from the fire whiskey. Or at least the ones who weren't wild enough to make him nervous.
"Bad evening?"
"Like you would not believe." He was surprised that he actually answered the question. The experiences of his night were best left unspoken. She was too innocent to know the details of what he had seen that night.
"I'm sorry."
Antonin turned a bit in his seat to take a closer look at the woman next to him. She was dressed in her purple pajamas with a thick dressing gown on over the pajamas. Her hair was pulled back but the loose locks showed that she'd spent part of the night already in bed trying to sleep. He reached across the distance between them to push a loose curl behind her ear. Hermione tensed at the initial contact, but didn't push him away. Because he could sense that she still was not comfortable with the physical touch, he dropped his hand back to his lap.
"May I ask you a question?" she asked after several minutes of an awkward silence.
"You may."
Hermione pulled a newspaper off of a nearby table. On the front page was a small article about a woman arrested on suspicion of Revolutionary Activity. The name wasn't familiar to Antonin, but he knew that "Revolutionary Activity" was simply a blanket charge used against potential enemies of the state. Most of them were completely bogus.
"Right here it says that she was remanded to the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies."
Antonin's stomach began to twist once more. He hated any mention of that damned "home". Too many men he knew enjoyed their visits to the prison for young women. It was depravity at its finest.
"When I was being held in the Ministry the guards were talking about the Umbridge Home. No one would tell me what that was. I've read all of the Daily Prophets since I arrived here, but there's no explanation that I can find anywhere on what it is."
He knocked back the rest of his glass in one gulp.
"What is this place?"
Antonin couldn't help the groan that escaped him at the repeat of her question. It had been a difficult night. He really didn't want to have this discussion with her, but if he could read the look in her eyes he knew she wasn't just going to drop the subject at his request. Besides, she did have a right to know. He was positive that some of the unfortunate young ladies who found themselves locked up there were her friends.
"The Ministry ran several studies at the end of the war measuring birth rates of the last forty or fifty years," he began. "Unsurprisingly, there has been a decline in children born since the beginning of the First Wizarding War."
"What do birth rates have to do with this?"
He could hear the frantic note that was creeping into her voice. If she was already upset before he gave her the meat of the answer, he feared her reaction when she learned the purpose of the prison. Antonin summoned the bottle of whiskey and pushed a full glass into her hands. When she's swallowed half the liquid in two choking gulps, he continued.
"An idea was proposed about a month after the final battle. The idea was to take all of the young, fertile pureblood and halfblood witches out of Azkaban and place them in their own separate facility where they would be secured and monitored."
Silent tears were pouring out of her eyes. She was an intelligent woman. The pieces were already coming together in her head. Antonin reached across the sofa to take her free hand in his. She didn't move to pull it out of his grasp so after a quick, reassuring squeeze, he continued once more. There really was no easy way to explain. He would just have to be blunt.
"The Umbridge Home for Young Ladies was established so that the prisoners could provide magical babies for Ministry-approved adoptive parents."
A sob escaped from her throat, but she silently pleaded with him to continue. He leaned over to place the lightest of kisses on the top of her head. If she was unnerved by the act, she didn't express so.
"How are they getting pregnant?" she asked. "Is it all done clinically or…"
"I imagine that it is being done the old fashioned way."
"How? Who?"
Antonin exhaled and took a large swill from his own glass.
"There are certain Ministry-approved men who are allowed to visit the Home. Ministry officials, members of the Wizengamot…"
"Death Eaters?"
"Death Eaters."
"Have you ever gone?"
"No, of course not. I will not participate in government sanctioned rape."
The silence grew between them for several long minutes. She still had not released his hand. In fact, she tightened her grip on it to an almost painful degree. Antonin finally had to release her hand to prevent any broken bones. He chose instead to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the embrace without really giving much thought otherwise. Progress.
"Are they just stuck there forever?" she asked, sniffing. "Doomed to spend the rest of their lives getting raped and pregnant repeatedly?"
"I believe they are eligible for parole once their twelfth baby reaches its first birthday."
"Twelve?"
Hermione burst into tears at this new bit of knowledge. Her empty glass went crashing to the floor as she covered her face with both hands. Antonin pulled her tiny body closer to his to allow her head to rest on his shoulder.
"Is that where all of the girls from the DA were sent?" she asked after a few minutes of solid crying.
"I believe so, yes. If there were any that were Muggle born…"
"No, I was the only Muggle born witch. There were a few wizards, but I don't know what happened to them."
Another silence fell between them. Neither knew what to say. She hadn't removed her head from his shoulder and he hadn't removed his arm from around her. Part of Antonin feared to breathe in case he broke the spell. For the first time since he took her out of Azkaban she actually seemed comfortable around him. He didn't want her to come to her senses and return to a frightened state.
"I think we should go to bed," Antonin suggested when the clock struck three.
Hermione allowed him to help her up from the sofa. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but the tears had trickled down to almost non-existence. Antonin took her hand in his once more without any protestations. She allowed him to lead her back to their bedroom with Argos only steps behind. She was already dressed in her pajamas so he led her straight to her side of the bed. When he slipped under the covers on his side several minutes later he could feel the mattress shake with her silent sobs.
"It's my fault they are there, Antonin," she cried.
He scooted closer to the middle of the bed to take her body into his arms. The distraught young woman allowed the comfort he offered.
"You're not to blame, Hermione," he said, placing a soft kiss amongst her curls.
"She's held a grudge against me for years. That's why she had all of the DA members thrown in there."
"Who has held a grudge?"
"Umbridge. She hates me more than anyone else in this world hates me. Even Rowle couldn't hate me as much as she does."
The casual mention of Thorfinn after the evening he'd experienced made Antonin's stomach clench just a bit. He struggled to push thoughts of the Rowles out of his mind. The knowledge that one of the most influential and powerful Ministry officials held a grudge against a young woman not even twenty was surprising. What could she possibly have done to make Dolores Umbridge hate her so much?
"Why do you believe that?" he asked, still unwilling to believe she was guilty.
"In my fifth year I led her out into the Forbidden Forest with Harry."
That certainly didn't sound bad enough to warrant a serious grudge.
"I knew that the centaur herd was restless and angry with humans after I'd visited Hagrid's giant brother Grawp. I thought maybe if we made enough noise tramping through the forest that the centaurs would hear. They promised that they wouldn't hurt foals so I knew Harry and I would be safe. Do you know what centaurs do to captured human women?"
"Yes."
Antonin released a deep breath he'd been holding. And this woman was a supposed warrior for the Light? She knowingly led an enemy into a situation that resulted in her sexual violation at the hands (hooves?) of a violent centaur herd. Obviously neither side in this war was innocent. It was a reminder to Antonin to never cross the petite woman spooned up against him in his arms. She could be downright vicious.
"She crucioed me when I was in the Ministry before my farce of a trial."
Antonin tensed at those words. He found his arms tighten around her instinctively as if he could prevent the pain. Of course he could've prevented the vindictive cunt from attacking his witch if he hadn't been forced to turn her over to the fucking aurors that night in Inverness.
"It wasn't the first time I was tortured," she said. "I daresay it likely won't be the last either."
"Not if I can prevent it."
"Yes, well, that would be preferable. I could feel how much she hated me. When Bellatrix tortured me the pain was unimaginable. When Umbridge did it I sincerely thought I was going to die. I'd assumed Bellatrix was the more powerful witch. I don't understand why Umbridge's hurt so much worse."
"Intent," he answered simply.
Hermione turned around in his arms to look into his face. The room was dark, but with the minimal moonlight and their eyes adjusting to the gloom, they were able to see each other. Antonin ran his left hand through her curls. He was enraptured by their unruliness.
"You have to mean an Unforgivable. Really mean it," he explained. "Bellatrix hated you, I'm sure. She hated a lot of people. That bitch was insane, but it sounds like Umbridge's issues with you were much more personal."
"I'm the reason she was raped and probably multiple times. Doesn't get much more personal than that."
"No, it doesn't. She obviously put her personal hatred for you in when casting. She might not be a powerful witch, but if her hatred for you was powerful enough, the Cruciatus Curse would be much worse."
"You must think I'm a horrible person."
Antonin smiled at her and tried to keep from laughing.
"Yes, Miss Granger, I think you are a terrible person and my opinion as a vicious Death Eater who once tried to murder you… no, excuse me… twice. I'm forgetting the little incident in the café where you stripped me of my memories. I've tried to murder you twice and now I've kidnapped you and forced you to share my bed. Yes, my opinion really matters on whether or not you are a good person."
He leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead. She smiled at him in return. They both were painfully aware of how bizarre their situation was even without him putting it all into words.
"This all is really weird, isn't it?" she asked.
"Very."
"I suppose I should be asking you again why you're doing this, but considering I'm warm, fed and not in Azkaban, I'm going to keep my concerns to myself for now."
"I meant what I said when I promised to keep you safe."
Hermione flipped back over so her back was facing him once again. She snuggled back into his chest, non-verbally letting him know that he could wrap his arms around her again. He complied immediately.
"Strangely enough, Antonin. I believe you."
She was still in his arms when he woke hours later. It was definitely a sensation that he could get used to. He snuggled her closer to his body and inhaled the soothing lavender scent of her hair.
"Is it morning already?" she asked in her sleepy voice.
"I'm afraid so," he answered. "I want you to come downstairs for breakfast with me."
Hermione stiffened in his arms. She'd been able to avoid running into the master of the manor in the two weeks she'd been there. Getting used to living with one Death Eater was hard enough. The last time she'd seen Rabastan Lestrange was the day at the Ministry when he tried to send a Killing Curse in her direction.
"Do I have a choice?" she asked.
Antonin sighed.
"Not really, no."
Hermione pulled herself out of his embrace. She crossed the room towards their closet. Antonin could understand her reluctance, but he didn't want her to hide away in their bedroom or the library forever. Was it wrong that he wanted to show his witch off?
If the angry glare she was shooting at him across the breakfast table was any indication, then yes, it was wrong. From the moment they entered the small dining room set aside for casual family breakfasts and lunches, she had not said a word. Rabastan was already seated in his usual place when they arrived.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," he greeted. "How lovely to finally see you up and about."
"Rabastan…" Antonin warned.
"You are looking well. I assume that Rosie has been taking adequate care of you."
Hermione shoveled a large bite of eggs into her mouth, no doubt in an effort to avoid speaking to the wizard. Antonin rolled his eyes. She was being unpleasant and petulant. Her young age was evident that morning. He gave her a pleading look across the table. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
"Yes, Mr. Lestrange. Rosie has been wonderful," she answered.
"Mr. Lestrange? So formal!" Rabastan exclaimed. "Please, my dear, call me Rabastan. We do live together now after all."
He winked at her causing her to immediately scowl.
"While you are here as my guest, please be certain that you do not lack anything you desire," he continued. "If Antonin is leaving you dissatisfied for any reason, please know that you are always welcome to come knock on my door. It's just down the hall from yours."
Hermione glared at the smirking wizard. She rose immediately from her seat, threw her linen napkin on her plate and rushed out of the room. Based on the direction she turned once she left the room, Antonin assumed she was headed towards the library. Argos who had been waiting patiently for her out in the entrance hall bounced after her.
"Was that necessary, Rabastan?" he growled.
"Lighten up, Antonin. I was just teasing the girl."
Antonin stabbed at the sausage at his plate with an increased fervor.
"Not making much progress, are you?" Rabastan asked. "You need to hurry up and claim her completely before rumors spread that she's not actually your little Mudblood whore as everyone suspects."
Antonin dropped his fork with a clang.
"What exactly are you implying, Rabastan?"
"I'm not sure what your relationship is with the girl or what your hopes for the relationship with this girl could be, but if you're not careful and don't make it perfectly clear that she belongs to you, there might be some others willing to step in and take her from you."
"Like who?" His voice was low and dangerous.
"Oh, I daresay that Thorfinn would be interested once he recovers from that bit of unpleasantness from last night. You know he's obsessed with the girl," Rabastan answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'd suggest buying her gifts. Witches love expensive gifts. You should get her something today."
He was stopped from making any further remarks to the man who owned the home he was living in by the sharp burning on his left forearm. Antonin made his excuses as he exited the manor.
Hours later Antonin walked up the High Street in Hogsmeade with Rabastan's advice ringing through his ears. Maybe there was something to be said for buying her a gift or two. Nothing too extravagant. She wasn't the kind of woman who was impressed by fancy, costly gifts. He saw several patrons enter and exit Honeyduke's. While he wasn't sure that she even liked chocolate, it was a traditional gift. Hard to go wrong with a nice box. And if she hated it, he'd eat it himself. He'd always liked chocolate.
He pushed open the door to the candy store and groaned. In the excitement of the past week or so, he hadn't kept track of the days. Based on the lurid displays of reds and pinks around the store, it was obviously Valentine's Day. What a ridiculous holiday. Nonetheless, he pushed past several patrons to make his purchase, sincerely hoping that no one recognized him as he did so.
When he returned back to the manor before dinner, Antonin didn't have a difficult search to find the witch. As she had been almost every single day since she arrived and was able to move about the manor freely, she was ensconced within the library with a drooling, shedding animal in her lap. His arrival elicited a glance up in his direction. She seemed neither pleased nor displeased to see him standing in the doorway.
"Have you been in here all day?" he asked though he didn't need the answer.
"Yes, it's quiet and I've never seen Rabastan in here once. Is the man afraid of books?"
Antonin shooed Argos off of the sofa to sit next to the woman. The dog gave him a dirty look before he loped over to the rug in front of the fireplace.
"I wouldn't be surprised to find that was the truth," Antonin replied.
He reached into his robes to pull out a garishly wrapped box. Feeling embarrassed, he dropped the box on top of the open book she was reading.
"I didn't realize what today was," he said while she unwrapped the paper.
Hermione pulled the paper off of the large box of chocolates and immediately burst into a violent fit of giggles. Yet again that day, Antonin was reminded of her age and by extension, his.
"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "These are wonderful. I didn't mean to laugh."
He was curious now.
"What was so funny?"
"I was just thinking that if a year ago you told me that my next Valentine would be a Death Eater who almost succeeded in murdering me, I would've thought you lost your mind."
She began to giggle again as she opened the box. He could see the humor in the situation and conceded with a small smile in her direction.
"I'm honestly not sure I've ever had a Valentine," she admitted. "Well, maybe if you counted Viktor Krum in my fourth year, but he certainly didn't buy me chocolates."
"The Bulgarian seeker?" He raised his eyebrows with interest.
"Is everyone else in the world Quidditch mad besides me?" She rolled her eyes and popped a truffle between her teeth. "I've never been a fan of the game personally."
Antonin chose a chocolate from the box she held out to him.
"How can you not have had a Valentine before?" he asked. "I mean, other than world famous Quidditch players of course."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"No one ever asked me."
"Are all Gryffindor boys idiots?"
She laughed.
"I always thought so," she answered.
Hermione leaned across the sofa and placed a quick peck on Antonin's cheek.
"Thank you for the chocolates."
