Chapter Six
August 3, 2003
Magical Births Department Begins Approving Adoptive Parents
After an astonishing show of interest in the magical babies being provided by Minister Umbridge's new program for Azkaban inmates, the newly-formed Magical Births Department at the Ministry of Magic is pleased to announce that the first round of adoptive parents have been selected. Those who will be able to adopt one of the first babies should be receiving an official owl within the next seven…
Every single cell in Hermione's brain was screaming at her to stop what she was doing. Despite knowing that this moment would have to come eventually, she wasn't fully prepared for what it would feel like to have Antonin Dolohov's hands on her body, his tongue invading her mouth. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. Whether it was the potions she had been forced to consume in order to eat or if there was truth in what Lucius used to say every time they argued, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that other than her mind, the rest of her traitorous body begged for more.
Antonin was not gentle in his touches or his movements. She never expected him to be. When she allowed her mind to wander to what the actual act would be like whenever they had to face the terms of the program they were enrolled in, she assumed he would be rough, brutal, perhaps even a bit mean. There were times he would stare at her across the narrow corridor between their cells with the most vicious expression on his face. Usually when she was in some state of undress. She could only imagine what debauched thoughts he possessed. Never would she ask him for clarification. He was a cruel man who would hurt her given half a chance. Hadn't he already proven that the day before when he slammed her head against the door and threatened to squeeze her throat until the gentle bones in her neck snapped?
And yet, she didn't want to push him away. Either it was temporary madness or the potions. He didn't seem in any rush to escalate past kissing. For that, she was thankful. Too much, too soon and she would likely panic and run away. But where was she going to run exactly? She was terrified of stepping out the front door.
No one had kissed her since Ron, since the moment in the middle of the final battle when she dropped the basilisk fangs to press her lips firmly against his. It had been an innocent kiss, one that helped to boost their spirits in the last push of the battle that would claim the life of their best friend and irrevocably change theirs. Antonin was going to bruise her lips, her mouth, who knew what other parts of her before they broke apart. She wanted more. With her eyes closed, she could imagine he was anybody. As it was, his assault on her mouth was the only thing keeping her fears suppressed. How could she dwell on how big the world was outside and how cruel the Ministry of Magic was when every nerve-ending in her body was charged and practically singing?
Unsure what to do with her hands, but knowing that she wanted him closer, she placed her left around his neck and ran her right through his dark brown hair. A low groan sounded in the back of his throat. Antonin's grip on her body tightened. With his hands on her hips, he dragged her into his lap. The evidence that he wasn't as horrified by the turn of events as he should have been was made perfectly clear. Feeling how hard he was might have scared Hermione away if she wasn't so terribly interested in finding out what was going to happen next.
She meant what she said to him the night before when they were lying in bed. It had been years since she was a 'quivering virgin'. A couple of fumbled, but charmingly sweet times with Viktor when he was staying at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament and a few late nights with Cormac in an abandoned classroom she would've liked to forget took care of at least some of her inexperience. Maybe it wasn't enough to be impressive or to mean that she would likely be any good. Somehow, based on the animalistic moans that came out of Antonin's mouth every time she just barely moved against him, she didn't think it would matter.
There was no reason to push him away, to tell him to stop. If they wanted to get off of that island alive and have some hope of having a life outside of the walls of Azkaban, they had to get started on creating the babies the Ministry planned to steal. She pushed those thoughts away. If she chose to dwell too much on the details of the program, she wouldn't be able to carry through with it. What they were asking of the former inmates was inhumane. How anyone other than the horrendous toad thought it was a viable option for increasing the amount of magical births was beyond her. Were that many witches and wizards outside the confines of their deserted island able to forget the fact that despite their perceived past crimes, they were still human beings with real emotions?
Antonin removed his lips from hers just long enough to pull the thin shirt she was wearing over her head. He was practically devouring her mouth again as he moved his hands behind her back and deftly removed the final barrier to her bare flesh. She couldn't think anymore about the program details and the horrific conditions with his hands alternating between sliding up and down her back and gently, almost tenderly, rubbing her breasts. Another low groan exited his throat the moment his thumbs brushed against her hardening nipples. The sensitivity in that part of her body so long untouched by anyone but herself caused a great shiver to course through her entire being, inadvertently sliding against his own sensitivity.
His hands moved to grab her sides just under her breasts. In one sudden movement, she was off his lap and lying on her back against the cool tiles. She gasped at the unexpected sensation. Antonin's dark brown eyes were darker than she had ever seen them before. He stared into hers, unblinking, as he removed his own shirt. Some of her good senses started to return as he ripped the clothes from the lower half of her body in one rough tug. Completely and entirely exposed to the madman, she feared what she knew was going to happen next. Would he make it hurt? Would he channel his obvious hatred of her into a painful experience? Was there something wrong with her that she hoped he would?
They didn't like each other. Not at all. Lucius and the others in their cellblock might have been convinced there were feelings underneath the surface that they were unable to express to the other, but she knew better. She loathed Antonin. Truthfully, she couldn't even imagine there being a time when that would change. His feelings for her were clear. She was an annoyance, one he would snuff out if given half a chance. Only the fact that he would be permanently removed from the program if he murdered her kept him from acting out his darkest fantasies. If either of them even still possessed the capability to love another person after the horrors they'd witnessed in their lives, the targets of their respective affections didn't exist in their fucked-up excuse for a family unit. So, unable to ignore that they would rather kill each other than kiss each other, why was she anxious to keep going down the very slippery slope they were on?
A scream she didn't anticipate ripped from her body when she felt his tongue in a place only one other tongue had been before. Cormac tried to show off one night many years earlier. Placed her on top of an old teacher's desk and attempted to prove what a skilled lover he was. It had hardly been a pleasurable experience, even if it was memorable. There was a clear distinction in a young teenager with very limited experience to a grown man who had time and opportunity to hone his skills. Emboldened by her response, Antonin grew more confident in his actions. No longer able to form a coherent thought, Hermione lay on the bathroom tile with her eyes closed and focused on nothing but the unexpected pleasure she never would've dreamed would come from a hardened and dangerous Death Eater.
She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could hardly breathe. If these were the enhancements they were to expect from the potions they had to consume with each meal, she would never hesitate to swallow one again. And if they were simply because of a talented partner, she was certain any repeat performances would hardly be viewed as a hated chore in the future.
Antonin's tongue and his long fingers worked her up into a frenzy the like she couldn't remember experiencing before with anyone else. When she feared she would completely lose her mind if he didn't stop, her release ripped through her, threatening to tear her apart from the inside out. She didn't recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth. Before her shaking thighs ceased their trembling and the waves of bliss dissipated, her partner squeezed the underside of her legs with his hands to enter her in one swift thrust. Her back arched off of the tile floor, offering no resistance to the intrusion.
His pace was careful to start. Afraid of what she would see when she looked up, Hermione opened her eyes. The man's intense gaze didn't move from her face. He was a man that wanted to watch the effect his actions had on his partner, chosen or not. Their eyes met. Neither could look away as he sped up. When his motions became more erratic, less controlled, he leaned over her body to capture her mouth in a fierce, searing kiss. He groaned into her mouth, his body collapsing on top of hers.
Neither of them spoke or moved. Not until their rapid heart rates decreased and their breaths came out evenly. As soon as Hermione could no longer feel the pounding of Antonin's chest, the wizard rose with red cheeks, pulled his trousers up, picked up his discarded shirt and exited the bathroom. The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut followed moments after his rapid departure. Hermione didn't stir from where she lay on the tiles, completely naked and thoroughly mortified by what just happened. Was this what her life was going to be from now? A series of humiliating moments where they both hated themselves for what they were forced to do?
Speaking about what happened on the bathroom floor was never an option. Not even hours later when Antonin returned back to the cottage for their next meal and promptly exited when he was finished. He seemed every bit as ashamed as Hermione felt. Hardly even able to look at her. When it was time for bed that first night, they slipped under the covers and slept as far away from the other as physically possible without tumbling out of the bed.
Several days passed after their arrival on the island where Hermione tried and failed to leave the small house. She would stand in the doorway, face the gigantic world outside, and be unable to make a single step forward. Leaving hadn't been a problem for any of the others she shared a home with. Antonin disappeared for hours at a time. Other than meals and nights spent lying next to each other, she only rarely saw him seated near the fireplace with one of the books they were allowed to borrow from the Ministry's extensive library. If she tried to sit in the same room with him for the same purpose, he would rise to his feet and leave through the front door. Rain or shine, he would escape. He never had to worry that she would run after him. She was too terrified of the open space.
It was difficult to live in a cottage with another couple who was clearly, and disgustingly, in love. At mealtimes, Hannah and Thorfinn tried to keep their hands to themselves so as not to make their housemates uncomfortable. In the privacy of their own bedroom, however, they didn't worry about how they behaved. Every night and most mornings, sounds not only of their passionate lovemaking, but of their laughter and private conversations, would bleed through the walls into the other bedroom.
Two nights after the bathroom floor incident, Antonin reached across the bed for her when it became impossible to ignore the noise next door. She didn't push him away. Even if they weren't in love, even if they could hardly stand the sight of the other, they could block out the rest of the world for a few pleasure-filled minutes. It became a habit, a pattern each time they couldn't sleep. As they became as familiar of the other's body as they were of their own, they could almost forget. Almost.
When each of them found their release, Antonin would climb off the bed and hide in the bathroom, scrubbing his body raw under the stream of the too-hot water he preferred. Hermione didn't blame him for his ritual. What they were being asked to do by the Ministry was unnatural, cruel. How their fellow human beings could justify what they were being forced to do was something she wasn't sure she ever wanted to know or understand. After his long showers, she would pretend that she had fallen asleep in his absence. It was easier that way. For both of them.
After two solid weeks of the program, Hermione woke up feeling better than she had in a very long time. Since before the war. The combination of health potions with actual food and adequate sleep was doing wonders for her recovery. And each morning after breakfast, she'd stand in the doorway and will herself to take a step outside. A few times she'd managed to make it a few meters from the door before she had to turn back around to the security of the small cottage. She sincerely hoped that her fear of open spaces wasn't an affliction that would haunt her for the rest of her life. While no one seemed terribly happy outside in their makeshift village of the damned, she knew the fresh air and exercise was good.
She laced up her shoes and decided that that would be the day. If she could make it out to the gravel path that connected all sixteen of the cottages without bolting back inside, she would consider it a success. Small steps eventually became big steps. Expecting too much of herself wasn't wise.
Antonin sat in his usual spot next to the fireplace with another thick book. As much as he teased her back in Azkaban about her love for reading, he was every bit as guilty. Their eyes met across the room, but neither of them said anything. Whenever they had the chance to speak, they didn't. They focused on speaking with Hannah or Thorfinn instead or they remained silent. Gone was the bickering they used to do in prison when they were bored. Hermione hated to admit that she was beginning to miss it.
Having him staring at her from across the room was the added incentive she needed to finally make it out of the door that day. He was a man who didn't appreciate weakness. If he saw it in her, he wouldn't rest until he berated her for it to his satisfaction. She didn't have the energy to deal with his condescension. Pulling open the front door, Hermione stood in the doorway to survey the outside world. The sun was out and she could almost convince herself that she wasn't still stuck in prison. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart, she took a single step.
Ordinarily, the panic didn't start to fully set in until she'd gone a bit further. Sounds across the common area in the center of the square of cottages echoed throughout the immediate area. Several of the other unfortunate souls involved in the Ministry program were taking advantage of the beautiful day. There was even someone laughing to her surprise. She hadn't felt the urge to laugh about anything for a long time. Even when she made the mirthful sound, it usually wasn't real. Just another act. Just another fake assurance that she was all right when she knew that was far from the truth.
Everyone expected her to be all right. Expected her to be able to brush off the horror of not only the breeding program but five years stuck in Azkaban with no hope at all for a life outside the fortress. Why she wasn't allowed to be flawed and terrified was a mystery. In the two weeks they were on the island, several of her old DA comrades stopped by her cottage to ask her what they were going to do next. Did they seriously expect her to be able to go without using magic for five years and then somehow engineer a plan to get sixty-four half-starved prisoners off of a Ministry-controlled island? What did they think she was going to do? Suddenly learn how to use wandless magic just by thinking it possible? Very few wizards or witches could perform wandless magic and that was usually only after decades of practice. Hermione Granger was not some all-powerful being who could do whatever the hell she damn well pleased. She was human just like the rest of them. It was unfair to put such pressure on her shoulders. No, she didn't have a plan beyond 'have ten children and be let off the island'. Or die trying.
She could feel her breathing become more labored. Her heart was racing. One step out of the door before having a meltdown was hardly a record. It had been a mistake. She wasn't ready. It wasn't safe out there. Something bad would happen if she went any further.
"Would you like to see the ocean?"
Antonin's question startled her enough to keep her from immediately bolting to the safety of their bedroom. They hadn't said a word to each other since the morning after they first arrived. She stared at him over her shoulder with wide eyes, unsure what she wanted to say.
"It's not far. The island isn't very big."
When she still didn't respond, he lowered his voice to a soft whisper.
"You can't stay inside forever, Hermione."
She didn't know where his change of heart was coming from. It seemed so unlike him to treat her with any amount of tenderness. Outside of the bedroom, at least. She'd had the opportunity to learn that while he certainly enjoyed being rough and harsh when it suited him, there were times he preferred to take his time, preferred to savor the experience.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she brought her other foot across the threshold of the cottage. Two deep breaths and two more steps. Antonin closed the door to the cottage behind him and with as solemn an expression as she'd ever seen on his face before, reached for her hand. There was no question if it was all right. He just grabbed it. Hermione was thankful. She wasn't sure her pride would've been up to the task of asking or giving him permission.
The silence that had become so familiar between them returned as they walked behind the cottage and into the trees. He walked with confidence. Considering he usually spent most days completely outside the cottage between mealtimes, she assumed that he had done his fair share of exploring. She had so many questions for him, but each time she tried to ask one, the words caught in her throat.
It still wasn't easy to keep moving forward. Fear raced through Hermione's mind with each step. She had to continually remind herself to take deep breaths. The thick forest surrounding their little village was quite stunning really. Everything was so green. Wild animals continually crossed their path. She could understand why the man still holding her hand was so anxious to walk through the woods. It was so quiet and peaceful. So very different from the hellish prison that had been their home for so long.
"Just a little bit further."
Antonin gently squeezed her hand. Maybe he'd been able to pick up on the panic that was still threatening to come exploding out of every pore of her body. She nodded her head once in response, still not quite able to formulate more than a syllable or two.
When the sounds of the forest began to fall away to the overpowering roar of the ocean waves, Hermione had to force herself to keep going forward. They broke through the trees to one of the most breathtaking beaches she had ever seen. No one else was near. Either they hadn't taken the opportunity to explore as thoroughly as Antonin or they found the ocean every bit as intimidating as she.
"It's so…" She surprised them both by speaking even if the full thought didn't quite make it out of her mouth. Even though she had seen the ocean countless times in her past, she didn't remember how vast it actually was. "… and I'm so small."
He seemed to understand what she was getting at. Instead of insisting that they walk onto the sand and closer to the water, Antonin sat down in the grass on the edge of the beach. Still holding on to her hand, he carefully tugged her down to sit beside him. She sat almost in his lap. Afraid to break any contact, she made certain that her hip was against his hip, her shoulder against his. Neither of them felt the need to speak. The ocean took her very breath away. She couldn't believe she was so close to it again. What had seemed like such an impossibility earlier that morning was a reality.