~o~
"All in time, ptitsa," Antonin added. "V'you will understand why I did what I did."
The handsome man leaned back in his yak horn throne. His wand flicked languidly and a bottle of unlabeled clear liquor and two shot glasses flew onto a table before him.
"Care for a drink, ptitsa?" Antonin asked her generously.
Hermione glared at him. Getting drunk with Dolohov? No, thank you. That was a recipe for disaster.
She politely coughed."No thank you. I don't drink." Not with enemies that is.
"Ahh v'you will learn soon enough. In Russia v'we drink to keep warm. It stimulates the v'blood." Antonin poured himself a hearty glass and brought the glass to his lips.
His dark eyes were on hers as he took the first few sips. "Mmm delicious," he mumbled. "You should try."
He eyes lowered to her sweater and the curves hidden underneath by the loosely woven yarn.
Hermione stirred uncomfortably in her seat across from him. Good Merlin, why did she feel herself blushing and her legs tensing? Get yourself together, Granger. This man is your enemy.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and cleared her throat. "So...You were going to explain...?"
Antonin smirked. "Impatient are v'we?" He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. "Okay I v'will tell v'you my story."
As he spoke, she tried not to stare at his lips but it was increasingly hard not to when she remembered how good they tasted against hers and he had pressed himself flush against her body.
"Are v'you listening to me Granger?" Antonin teased her with a half smile on his gorgeous lips below his annoyingly alluring pitch black mustache and goatee. Merlin it wasn't fair when men naturally had facial hair this alluring and sexy.
"Of course I am!" Yet when she met his eyes again that umcomfortable feeling kicked in again.
His eyes were so dark and piercing, like he could see through her very soul, or at the very least he could see under her clothes. Like he could mentally undress her.
She couldn't bare it anymore. She stood up again and leaned towards the table where he had his bottle and shot glasses.
"Actually give me a glass of that." She shakily reached out and poured a full glass of the vodka into her shot glass. She needed any fortification available...unfortunately, this, rather than home or Harry or Ron or actual comfort potions, was the only fortification available to her.
"Drink up, ptitsa, it v'will warm you," Antonin chuckled.
She drank it too quickly and then spat it out again. This was the strongest alcohol she had ever tried. She began to cough.
"Ha ha! What v'were you expecting English v'water? v'You are not used to our strength!"
Hermione frowned as she coughed once more, her throat burning. Yet the effect of the vodka was immediate and she relaxed for the first time since he captured her.
Antonin nodded at her to sit down again. She did but kept her eyes trained on him in anticipation of any change in his mood or benevolence.
"V'Well as I was saying, v'you have taken part in a great ancient wizarding Russian tradition, the magical Matimutka!"
"The magica matee what?"
"The Matimutka," Antonin nodded proudly.
"What is a Matimutka?"
"Not what, but who," Antonin corrected her and finally broke eye contact with her to stare out the window, though she wasn't sure what he saw out there. There was nothing to see outside any of his windows except snow...and more snow. "The Matimutka 'vwas a Russian princess, back in the old days, v'who defied her father, the king, to marry the man she loved! A poor peasant serf!"
"Oh. Right," Hermione said. Well, this was unexpected as hell. The last thing she expected Dolohov to tell her was a Russian princess fairytale story as they sat in his log cabin by a fire.
"'Vit is a true story, you know?" Antonin said as if sensing her doubt.
"Of course, I never said otherwise." Hermione suppressed a laugh at his expense. How gullible was this man he believed fairytales.
Dolohov rolled his eyes at her. "Anywvay! The Matimutka was avout to marry a man she did not love, a prince. Though thee Prince Pushbuskin was wealthy and powerful, the Matimutka did not love him. She wished nothing to do with him. But ah! This clever ptitsa was in love with another by secret, the stable servant Mattheiu! He was a young handsome but penniless serf who fed and trained the royal horses and slept in the palace's stables."
"Of course," Hermione said, and this time couldn't repress a smile. "I'm believing this story more and more."
Antonin saw she was smiling and returned it with his own wider grin. Surprisingly, he did not get mad at her. He simply shrugged. "You may not believe this story, but all magic Russian folks know it is va true story!"
Hermione laughed.
"Vis alright, laugh! V'you English have strange faiytales vourself like v'Merlin and vee knights of round table!"
Hermione shrugged. "Fair enough, that is true. Those are probably made up. Though I do think most are aware Merlin's legends are exaggerated, even if he did factually exist."
"Da da," Antonin said. "The Matimutka was a real person too, vo she existed a thousand years ago." He took another swig of his glass and sighed loudly. "A most romantic woman. Anyvay, she defied her father and told Matthieu to rescue her from the loveless marriage by pretending to kidnap her. Now Matthieu did not have
much at his disposal though he was a clever v'wizard. He took one of the empty burlap sacks which had held horse feed and he grabbed one of the fastest stallions in the kingdom. Then when Matimutka walked in the stables and nodded at him with her father by her side, he ran up towards them, put the sack over head and killed her father."
"Wait, what, she killed her father?" Hermione gasped. "How is this romantic?!"
Antonin tutted at her. "Shee did not kill v'him, Matthieu did, v'you're you not listening again?"
"I did, I heard that part, but she still allowed her boyfriend to kill her father?" Hermione shook her head. It seemed to have turned into rather a dark fairytale rather quickly.
Antonin ignored her disapproval and continued the tale. "She had to do v'what she had to do. With the king gone, the Matimutka would be queen but first she needed to pretend she had been kidnapped and taken by her father's murderer so no one would suspect her."
"Da," Hermione said the Russian word for 'yes' mockingly. 'Da' the word for yes sounded cannilly like 'duh'.
"So Mattheiu rode off at sundown with the princess hidden by a burlap sack and carried her off to his hut."
"Much like this?" Hermione couldnt help adding and looked around the room.
Antonin said "Tisk tisk, do you think a serf would have had a hunting cabin as fine as this? Give me a v'break!" He glared at her scoldingly. "You should see our manor in Moscow, it is a mini palace, ptitsa! A fine house the Dolohov name has!"
"Okay, okay, didn't mean to offend you!" Hermione chuckled. Why was she warming to him? Oh well, maybe she was just enjoying the absurd story and where it was inevitably leading.
"Mattheiu took Matimutka to his hut and they consumated their marriage the only way they could: he took her on a bed of hay! The v'blood of her innocence stayed all over her white gowns she was v'wearing, mixed v'with her father's blood yet she wrapped v'herself with love around her Mattheiu!"
Hermione gulped but Antonin ignored her discomfort and continued narrating the tale proudly.
"In the morning, v'they rode back to the royal palace, the sack off her head and blood on her gown. The kingdom had been mourning the death of her father but when she told them that her stableman had seen the attack and followed the murderer and rescued her, he became a hero! Since the Matimutka was the queen now, she made him a knight and she married him. They ruled 200 years together in a golden era of Russian history!"
"But he was the bad guy?" Hermione said, shaking her head. "He had killed her father and they both lied about it."
"Da!" Antonin grinned wickedly and she felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach again. "But they all ended happilly!"
~O~
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a/n: Btw the Matimutka story is from my imagination. Again this is not actual Russian folklore or Russian wizarding folklore (if that even exists) or anything remotely accurate, no offense intended to actual Slavic people.
What do you think should happen next? How will Antonin use this fairytale to justify his actions?
Please stay tuned, and please please leave a review, thank you for reading!