a/n: Omg 2020 has truly been the most awful year, when does it end? Anyways, I'm back and I'm finishing this thing. Thanks for the support. Re-reading bits of my story actually made me cringe but whatever, some people like this story and I enjoyed writing it at the time. Tho omg has anyone seen 365 days? "Are you lost baby girl?" lol now it was a guilty pleasure but seriously cringey! And filled with some bad italian stereotypes :-( not all italians are like that. I hope I avoided any bad russian stereotypes in my story..except for him drinking vodka of course, but honestly everyone loves vodka around the world not just russians. Also any male chauvinism in Antonin's character is actually directly inspired by my parents family...they seriously think like this and no they are not russian :(

~o~

Antonin had boldly stated that she was starting to fall in love with him. Just flat out accused her of loving him. The arrogance. The cheek of him. How dare he suggest it...with so much confidence.

Or fuck it, did he have a point maybe?

To her shock, when she searched her own mind and heart, Hermione found...perhaps...the Russian was not mistaken. Though how the hell did this happen in just a few days? Surely you couldn't fall in love that fast? Falling for Ron or Sirius had certainly been slow burns that had taken years to build up. She hadn't woken up one day and realized she was in love with those Gryffindors. It didn't happen overnight.

How could she feel something so fast for this preposterous, arrogant, obscene and cruel man?

"Though who am I kidding?" Hermione bit down hard on her lip as she stared into Antonin's dark unreadable eyes. Some of his black ebony hair had fallen across his temple. A part of her wanted to reach out and smooth it back out of his face. And maybe heal the wounds and battle scars he had across his chest...oh god his chest. She may not be quite in love at this point, but she was most definitely starting to fall in love with him. With her kidnapper.

No wonder she couldn't stop kissing him and lost her mind every time he touched her so that she lost self-control around him.

"Oh god, what have I done? He's right," Hermione thought in panic. "I am starting to fall for him. Or hopefully it's just lust. Please let it just be lust. I don't want to love this madman."

Obviously reading her mind through her facial expressions, Antonin reached out a hand to run up her spine, leaving tingles where his large fingers traced against her backbone. She felt so weak. So vulnerable. So stupid. How could she let this happen?

"Ermione vis is true, vis not?" Antonin whispered.

She didn't respond but sat down on the bed again, staring out the window where the sun was now setting.

What a bloody fucking mess. There was no turning back was there, was there?

Even if she got away, there would be a piece of her that stayed here with Antonin forever and in the back of her mind she would always wonder about 'what if she had stayed, what if she had married him' or, forgetting about marriage, 'what if she had stayed longer, what would have happened?'.

Buggering hell. How could she have developed feelings for her own abductor? This was major Stockholm syndrome surely and nothing more.

"I need to be alone," Hermione said quietly, breaking the long pause in their conversation. She removed his hand from her back, gently placing it away from her.

To her surprise, Antonin respected her boundaries for just this moment and he lifted himself off the bed.

Antonin nodded as he looked down at her cheekily, as if he had accomplished something with the past half hour.

"Sure, I v'will bring v'you some tea and v'you will rest." He bit at his lips as he stared down at her. "Then v'you will cook supper."

"I am not cooking supper for you, Antonin," she informed him with a roll of her eyes. She didn't even have the energy to fight him at this moment either. She was too mad at her herself for catching feelings. For a bloody misogynist. And it was the same damn headbutting every time, did Antonin think women existed only for fucking and cooking and sucking and acting like slaves for him? Like seriously? Did he think it was the 1800s? She was a kidnapping victim, not a maid or cook or prostitute for hire.

"V'you are my wife, v'you cook," he insisted and lectured her as if she were a toddler failing to comprehend basics. "I am not wife here, I v'will not cook again."

Hermione shuddered to think of how he might've treated Oliviana, ordering her to cook and clean everything. Was that really genuine love? To have things done so traditionally and demeaning? Did Antonin even cherish that poor woman as much as he claimed to? Maybe he was abusive. Maybe he just acted like he cared so much about her after she died.

"I'd rather not," she said tightly and tried not to sneer.

"Oh v'when we will both go hungry? I v'work all day and come back to empty kitchen?!"

That was it. Hermione stood up, shoulders back and starred daggers at him, not caring how much she sneered at him any longer.

He couldn't speak to her like this, so damn dismissively, as if she were nothing or had accomplished nothing in her life. Did he not comprehend who she was? She was practically Harry Potter's right hand 'man'. She was completely wasting time here arguing with him, or kissing him.

"Look, here, I could full well work and provide for myself, if you hadn't abducted me! I'm completely bored and in arrested development here while there's a war going on. I'm not built for a simple life, I'm not housewife material!" she shouted at him. "I should be out there fighting!"

It was as if she had slapped him with her words.

"V'war is not for women, ptitsa!" Antonin bellowed while clenching his fist.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Did he really think women should sit at the sidelines or act only as war prizes? What about Bellatrix Lestrange? Surely here were some females fighting on the Death Eaters side, weren't there? Surely Voldemort didn't teach that women couldn't be Death Eaters, even if they were fighting for an unjust cause.

Hermione felt her jaw slacken as she tried to comprehend what to say to a man so misogynist and arrogant. She couldn't find the words in time however.

Apparently she had made Antonin so mad, he wasted no time to storm out of the bedroom and slam the door behind him, nearly breaking it.

Hermione looked helplessly at the closed door. "I'm going to go mad here," she thought.

Her stomach growled too out of deep hunger. She'd not had a bite to eat since breakfast.

Would he really let them both starve if she refused to cook herself?

~o~

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Review please and it will be updated tomorrow! Prepare for a kitchen battle though that might get crazy :)