A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Ffnet is still being weird, but I am trying to respond to reviews when I get the chance. So sorry if I've missed one of yours! This chapter, we get to see a bit of Antonin's past and a bit of drama! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks and story updates.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter nine and be on the lookout for chapter ten soon!
Ever since Hermione had found out the truth about her parents' treatment, she had been quite down. She'd practically shunned the magic books, except for a few arithmancy treatises and spent most of her time out in the garden. On the one hand, he thought it was good for her to spend time outside, knowing that winter was nearing. He'd lived through one of Canada's winters already, and even with magic, things had seemed dire more than once.
He knew that she spent a lot of time with the chickens, and the little creatures in turn loved her, following her around, begging for bits of feed. Antonin wouldn't be surprised if she'd given the four hens names by now and was able to differentiate between them. He was thinking about getting her a goat to go with them, seeing how much she doted on them, but he had no barn for them, and he certainly wasn't going to have a goat live inside the cabin with him once the snow flew!
Another benefit was just how much their little garden had flourished with her attentions. Antonin had only been able to get tomatoes to grow with any success or regularity, but Hermione had already harvested carrots, brussel sprouts, and had planted squash and pumpkins, which were growing fat and orange on their vines.
He remembered the first time he'd seen them and had been shocked. "We are meant to eat that?" He'd asked her, only to deeply offend her sensibilities.
"Of course we can eat it." She told him, hands on her hips. "Why do you think I've planted them?" As though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Yes, there were benefits to her extended time outside. But, on the other hand, he hated seeing her spark for learning magic fizzle out. She knew what kind of dark magic was out there, even what dark magic he himself had told her he'd performed, but it never bothered her before. Once she knew the victims, though, it seemed to define the meaning of it to her.
He knew that he needed to do something for her, something to bring a bit of joy into her life. Not for the first time, he wondered just how she'd wormed her way into his life, so much so that he was worried not just about her well being, but her happiness as well. He didn't even care about his own happiness.
Getting oranges in on the latest shipment was a surprise, and really, Antonin was lucky he'd been assigned to help unload the trunks. He knew he was a large man, though not nearly as large as the likes of Rowle, and could always be counted on to do the hard physical labor.
"How much for the oranges?" He asked Lucius, when he and Thorfinn had finished with the shipment. Food staples were equally distributed, but a luxury item like an orange would only go for a certain price.
Lucius raised one dark blond eyebrow at Antonin, before setting a price. "I'll give you one for a galleon, Dolohov." He said, perhaps thinking that it was too rich for Antonin's blood.
Antonin looked over the oranges that had come. A galleon was a lot to spend on a piece of fruit which would be quickly devoured, but there weren't many in the box. They were unbruised, perfectly orange. He wondered if Hermione had ever even had one before. "I'll take it." He said, finally, digging in his pocket for a gold piece, before selecting the best looking orange.
Walking home with a skip in his step, he heard footsteps coming up behind him. "Did you get that for your mudblood?" Thorfinn asked, curiosity piqued.
Antonin turned round on him, hand tightly around his wand, but not drawn. "You would do well not to call my wife that Rowle." Antonin liked Thorfinn alright. They usually ended up working together, but he was very young and very hotheaded. He always spoke without thinking and he'd been in more than one fight because of it.
"Sorry." The blond man said, hands up in surrender. "It's habit." He said, with a frown. He hadn't realized that Dolohov liked his wife quite so much that he was willing to fight over it. Last he heard, Rodolphus had to twist Antonin's arm to even get him to go look at the filles. Said it was important with his standing in the Death Eaters.
"I don't know if Hermione likes oranges." Antonin said, trying to rid himself of his bad mood before he returned home. "If she doesn't want it, I will eat it."
Thorfinn nodded in understanding. "Well, hope she likes it then." Even if Antonin didn't want to admit it, the other man knew that it was a present. Many things had changed since England, and Thorfinn was sure that Antonin feeling this level of...affection for any woman was one of them. Biding his occasional partner farewell, he left to return to his own house.
When he got home, Hermione was inside, cooking one of those suspicious looking pumpkins. She'd cut into it and was working on getting whatever was in the interior into some kind of soup. He was highly suspicious of the plant, but knew he would try it because Hermione had made it. She greeted him with a quiet hello, but didn't look up from her work.
"I have brought you a present." He said quietly, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs that surrounded their table. That certainly got Hermione's attention. She stopped what she was doing and sat down at the table next to him, leaving a wooden spoon stirring in the pot. Antonin reached into his pocket and pulled out the brightly colored orange, placing it on the table for her to inspect.
She gasped in surprise and lovingly touched the peel. "Is this an orange?" She asked, her brown eyes lighting up. When he nodded she broke into a full smile. She felt the weight of it in her hand and was about to peel it, but stopped. "I've never had one of these before. Maybe we should save it for a special occasion?"
He tried not to laugh at her, really he did, but he couldn't contain the chuckle. "Mishka, it will spoil if we don't eat it now. They only stay fresh for a while." He took the orange from her and began to peel it for her.
Hermione liked watching his long fingers make work of the outside peel. His hands always seemed large, but with the tiny fruit in his palms, it exaggerated the look. He was so sure in his movements, and before long, he was offering her a section of the fruit. Hermione took it, biting into it, unable to contain her moan at the taste of it. It was much juicier than she expected. "It's so sweet!" She told him with a smile, before finishing off the section.
He handed her another one. "Aren't you going to have some?" She asked, wanting to share this special treat with her husband. "I couldn't possibly eat it all on my own." Nodding, he took a section for himself, the flavor taking him back to when he was just a child.
"My mother used to love oranges. She would always get them from Italy when I was a child." He told her, sectioning the rest of the fruit so it could be shared between them.
Hermione was eager to hear any mention of his childhood. He rarely talked about what his life was like before Hogwarts. "What was your mother like?" The question came bubbling up before she thought that he might not talk about her for a reason.
"Beautiful. Vain. Stubborn." He told her. "She always wanted the best in life and when my father died she brought us - my sister Iskra and I - to England. She was terribly upset when no English gentlemen were falling at her feet."
She felt a bit badly for her husband. It must have been hard to have your whole life uprooted immediately after losing your father. "What was your father like?" She asked, wanting to know more about the man in front of her. She could understand why he was the way he was.
"Quiet. Angry. Quick to temper." Antonin said with a shrug. "He was not a nice man, but he always looked after us." Hermione felt grateful that she had such wonderful parents, even if she'd only had them for a short while.
"What was it like? Coming to England? Was it very different?" Hermione could tell by his expression that he was getting annoyed with her questions but he kept answering them anyway.
"Russia was familiar, so I hated England when I first arrived. It was never..cold enough. The weather was too weak and I barely knew a word of English. It was difficult at first, but I found my own way. Iskra was quite popular at Hogwarts, as she was quite pretty, but I did not have good looks to fall back on, only my wand."
Hermione gave him a small smile. "I wouldn't say you don't have good looks Antonin." It was the first time that she admitted to him that she found him attractive. To her surprise, it seemed to bolster his confidence a bit. She watched as he puffed his chest out, though she was sure it was unconscious. Really, how could he not know that he was attractive, with his broad shoulders and arms covered in ropey muscle? She'd stopped what she was doing more than once to watch him carry something.
"Well, boys in Slytherin house certainly didn't find me attractive." He said, finally. Hermione giggled at that, thinking that they probably wouldn't. Before they knew it the orange was gone, but they didn't stop talking. Hermione had even managed to wheedle a few childhood stories out of him.
Hermione sighed, unwilling to really eat her pumpkin stew, just moving it back and forth. She couldn't deny the fact that she was bored. Very bored really.
It wasn't that she didn't like spending time with Antonin, it was just...he was all she ever saw. She wondered about Ginny, knowing that she was probably due to have her baby soon. Or Luna. She'd seemed happy enough with her husband, but she'd only seen her so briefly that she couldn't be sure. She needed a little time with other girls. She'd grown up with only women and it was hard to go to only ever seeing one man.
After hearing Hermione sigh for what seemed like the one hundredth time, Antonin finally snapped. "What? What is it that has you sighing this way and that?"
Hermione jumped at his sudden outburst, embarrassed. She hadn't been aware that she'd been so obvious. "I just...I was thinking that it might be nice to see Luna." She said quietly, unsure of how he would take it. "I just get so lonely here, during the day. It might be nice to spend time with another girl."
Antonin rubbed his hand over his face. He frequently met at the tavern with Reuben and Rab and they were constantly pestering him to bring Hermione around to see them. They teased that he was just keeping her locked up to please him, which couldn't be further from the truth. But now Hermione wanted to go as well.
Really, it wasn't fair to her that she be cooped up all this cabin all this time. "Fine. Do you have a cloak?" He asked, getting his own. If she wanted to get out, he would take her out to the bar with him. He knew if they didn't leave quick, he was going to change his mind.
Hermione excitedly got her cloak on and allowed Antonin to apparate her. She was surprised when he steered her to the same bar that they got married in. It was a bit odd to go back, especially when it was not so full.
"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in." A voice said as soon as the doors shut behind them. Hermione felt Antonin stiffen beside her, but he didn't stop the other man from grabbing at her and pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks. "Aren't you looking radiant tonight Mrs. Dolohov?"
"Alright, Rab, paws off my wife." Antonin groused beside her. Oh yes, Hermione remembered. This was Luna's husband. He was certainly flirtatious.
"Good evening Mr. Lestrange." Hermione responded, trying to be as formal as possible so as not to embarrass her husband. "How is Luna?" She asked, politely.
"Ah, you've finally let her away from the bed long enough to come socialize, I see." A second man approached the little trio. Hermione remembered that this one was called Yaxley. Her cheeks colored. Antonin and her had still not talked about what had happened on their couch and they certainly hadn't attempted it again.
Looking at Antonin, she could see that he was embarrassed by Yaxley's pronouncement as well. "Leave it, Reuben." He growled.
"Come, Luna is here. You can chat with her." Rabastan said, sensing that this was deeper than Reuben was expecting. He lead them over to where Luna was waiting. As soon as the small blonde waif saw her friend, she pulled Hermione in a tight hug.
"Why don't you girls sit right here, where you can catch up? We will just be right over there." Rabastan said in a soothing voice that rankled Hermione, but Luna just seemed to fawn over him. Antonin gave her an encouraging look before following his two friends away.
"You barely let me talk to her." Reuben said, laughing to himself as Antonin and Rabastan arranged themselves on one side of the booth so that they could keep a firm eyesight on the two girls sitting at their own table.
"Well, perhaps if you could behave yourself, she would be sitting with us." Rabastan countered, knowing that his friend just wanted to make sure that Antonin was dealing okay with this new person in his life.
"In any case, we aren't here to talk to her." Antonin said with a growl. "You know that we have other business to attend to."
He had been meeting with Yaxley and Rabastan for weeks now and they frequently brought up their frustrations with King Voldemort and the way that he ran things under tightly controlled anti-spying spells so that no one would overhear them. None of them were happy with the way things were working out, but now they were just starting to talk about doing something.
King Voldemort had rode to power on the back of pureblood ideals and traditions. Those in power were too indulgent to mudbloods and outsiders, outlawing many traditions that purebloods had participated in for years. It had been easy to support him and the world he promised. The only problem was he hadn't delivered on his word. Muggleborns were still being forced into their world, and their treatment was something that Antonin could not abide by. Blood status didn't seem to matter much to the King, just how much money someone was willing to give him.
Once he'd gotten what he wanted, King Voldemort had treated his Death Eaters like dragon dung, showing them that they were disposable time after time. He treated them little better than pawns and his moods shifted like the wind. You could never be sure that you were safe.
For Antonin, the last straw had been being sent to this colony and then forced to take a wife. Though things with Hermione seemed to working out for him, it didn't mean that he was thrilled with the way things had been forced on him. He hadn't wanted to come to this unknown land and, in the end, he hadn't been given a choice. His life had no meaning to the King.
The same resentment bubbled up in his two friends. Reuben was glad to get away from his hellion of a wife, but he hadn't enjoyed the hard work and cold weather. Rabastan, as the second son, should be spending his life enjoying court life back in England, fucking girls and getting drunk every night.
Things weren't getting any better in the colony either. People resented the likes of Rodolphus and Lucius doing little work and reaping all the benefits. Others were putting in their fair share and being treated like dirt. Any dissent, though, was met by a stern warning from Fenrir Greyback.
The only problem was the three of them didn't know how to help. "Luna is onboard." Rabastan told them quietly. Antonin was surprised that Rabastan would confide in his wife. The man was not known for trusting people.
Before they could discuss further, though, something caught his eye. To his dismay, he caught Fenrir bothering the two girls. He had his hand on Hermione's shoulder and was looking at her as though she were a steak. Antonin felt hot rage bubble up inside of him, and he almost knocked the table.
He crossed the room in three long strides, hitting Fenrir on the shoulder and pushing him back from Hermione, stepping between them. "What the fuck do you think you are doing Grayback?" He demanded, his voice a snarl.
"Easy there little man." Fenrir responded. "You wouldn't want something to happen to you. Just who would protect your lovely mudblood then?" He asked with a leering smile at Hermione.
Before Fenrir could block it, Antonin was blasting Fenrir back, sending him sprawling into some tables. The werewolf hopped up, snarling back. He didn't like to be pushed around. He charged at Antonin, who was quick with a wand, but not as quick with his movements. Fenrir knocked Antonin onto his back, getting two punches to Antonin's face before Antonin got a swing into Fenrir's kidney. The larger man groaned and Antonin was able to push him off.
Climbing back to his feet, he cast some dark spells, only to be annoyed when Fenrir blocked most of them, until a curse of his own creation got by. He smiled a cruel little smile when he saw the pain immediately register on Fenrir's face, but in his cockiness, he relaxed for a moment and missed the cutting spell sent his way. It caught his side, blood immediately staining the white linen of his shirt.
His rage knew no bounds at this point and he cast the cruciatus curse, taking pleasure in the sounds of pain that he drew out of the werewolf's mouth.
"Antonin!" Hermione shouted. Her hand was on his wand arm, and only when he saw the worry in her eyes did he end the curse. "Please, Antonin, you're hurt." Hermione whispered, blinking quickly to fight back the tears.
He nodded, feeling his energy waning and his side really hurt more than he realized. "This isn't over wolf." He spat at the man, struggling to stand. Grabbing Hermione's arm, he apparated them back to the cabin, eager to get home.
