Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews and messages! Enjoy!
Part III
June 10th, 2010, St. Petersburg
Magical theorist and Charms mistress Hermione Granger was glad to have tucked on some days for relaxiation after the highly interesting but exhausting conference in Moscow. She had travelled from Moscow to St. Petersburg by train, had visited the more touristy sights of the old city and now was trying to find out more about the ordinary people living here. The city had a wizarding district where she had shopped extensively in the book shops. Russian wizarding culture had a different approach to categorisations of magic being light, grey or dark, bolstered by a strong sense of individual responsibility and an Auror force so effective it made the KGB look like a crotcheting circle.
After spending some time at the market at Sennaya square Hermione let herself drift, following chatting shoppers here and stopping to look into a shop window there. A not quite in tune piano was heard from open windows over her head. In rhythm with the music a voice was calling comands. The sign next to the open door showed this was a private ballet school, a handwritten timetable told Hermione – after a silent and wandless translation spell – that an adult class was about to end. Intrigued she went into the building and followed the sounds of the piano upstairs. Hidden in the dark corridor she watched through the door of the classroom which was open like the windows due to the oppressive heat of the last days. Adults of all ages and shapes were doing their exercises, men and women alike. Most wore yoga pants or leggins. One birdlike old dancer, Hermione guessed her to be close to eighty, astonished her with her posture and grace. Murmuring voices alerted her to the end of the lesson. Dashing into the loo next to the classroom she washed her face and thought of Dolohov's comment long, long ago about the barre being fine for working out. Yoga worked fine for herself. The dancers were getting dressed. Through the open door of the washroom Hermione heard two male voices talking in Russian, one terribly familiar, if a bit rougher than she remembered. With the translation charm still on she understood every word.
"Your chassé was quite spirited today. If you don't tone down a bit Natalia will want to cast you again for her exhibition."
The other man sighed, "Yes, yes. Today I was feeling like twenty again. I don't know what came over me."
"Twat. Trying to impress the young ladies?"
"No, certainly not. Something is happening, I can feel it."
"All right, Cassandra, let's make our way to the market, you know that Wassili doesn't hold our chops forever." A snort and the sound of a thrown towel, followed by laughter was heard. The two men passed the washroom and left. Hermione waited for five more minutes before making her way down the stairs as well. She still could not place that voice. Lost in her thoughts she never saw the two shadows waiting at the bottom of the stairs until a wand was pressed into her kidney. Hermione realised that the faces of her attackers were disguised by a spell. They made a sharp turn into a back alley and then she felt the disconcerting sensation of an Apparition against her will.
Landing in a wooded area she found herself bound to a tree. As a Charms mistress her situation was by no means desperate, she could undo everything wandlessly and silently, but she wanted to know the identity of her attackers. When their Glamours fell she gasped.
"Professor Snape! Dolohov!"
Dolohov gave her a short bow, his mien serious. Snape looked at her with no expression. Both men still wore tracksuit bottoms and sweaty t-shirts.
"Ms Granger, we felt your magical signature at Natalia's. I must insist that you tell me how you found us."
Astonishment flooded her.
"I haven't been looking for you! I was playing tourist after that conference in Moscow last week. After the market square I was looking for a cafè to sit down when I heard the sound of the piano. I have to admit that's when I thought of your comment that the barre is good for working out and so I went upstairs to see what kind of people took ballet classes. Professor Snape can look at my memories if you do not believe me."
The men exchanged looks. Then Snape came nearer.
"Ms Granger, allow me." Hermione nodded and met his eyes squarely.
After two minutes Snape unbound her and addressed his friend, "She speaks the truth, and she feels no ill will towards us, not even towards you, Antonin."
"Ms Granger, please accept our apologies. Could we make it up with dinner?" Hermione remembered that eleven years ago she had been right to trust the Russian and decided to take a leap of faith again.
"I would be honored to accept that invitation. I do hope that you let me pick your brains about that post card. I still haven't unravelled every little charm on it."
Snape snorted, "Antonin's a show-off."
Dolohov retaliated, "I could not have applied my charm without your potion. You may have noticed that the postcard reacts to you mood. It will emit the smell of your favourite comfort food if you are down, it will smell like a forest if you are angry. The charm is tricky, but without a potion I could not have anchored it on the postcard for such a long time."
Hermione had at least twenty more questions for Dolohov but Snape intervened, "Antonin, take her home, start the potatoes and get a shower. I'll pop back for the chops."
"Aye, aye, captain." The elder man held his elbow towards Hermione in an invitation. She felt a tug and moments later they landed in a shed. Casting a Lumos Dolohov led her towards a door that opened into an impressive garden. There were potions ingredients, to be sure, but also nearly every imaginable vegetable and herb. Seeing her interest the former Death Eater offered, "If you will take a look around the garden I could take a quick shower?"
"Of course, Mr Dolohov, I'd like that."
"Would you call me Antonin, Ms Granger?"
"Why?"
"Severus says you are to be trusted. You are the first witch we brought here. You are special."
Hermione felt like she was missing a crucial piece of information.
"Then you must call me Hermione. I am not sure whether I can ever call Professor Snape by his given name."
"He listens to dushka as well."
Dolohov found himself flipped over and hung up by an ankle. Snape was back.
"Don't listen to that oaf, Ms Granger."
"What does dushka mean?" She still had the translation charm on but she was curious about the relationship between the two men. Snape raised an eyebrow.
"It means dear, as you well know. But it is mostly used in a non-romantic way, like `Pomona Sprout is an absolute dushka´."
Dolohov laughed, "You think that if it gives you comfort."
Hermione sat down heavily on one of the sturdy kitchen chairs, looking from one man to the other.
"You've just tilted my worldview again. Am I to believe that you are a ballet dancing, Austen quoting intellectual and all that Death Eater business was just a big misunderstanding?"
Snape put tea on the table.
"You opened that particular can of worms, Antonin. You deal with her questions while I take a shower."
Dolohov put an ungodly amout of sugar into his tea and summoned a bottle of firewhiskey, pouring a generous dash in his cup.
"What do you want to know, Hermione?"
"You told me about the Prewetts and about your father's pressure to join Voldemort. I have since read old court transcriptions. For the crimes proven by the Wizengamot your sentences, with the exception of Bellatrix', seemed excessively harsh, Crouch Sr's doing, I suppose. There were also some descriptions of Riddle's earlier years and even I, as a Muggleborn, can understand where he came from. Even Harry thought it a sensible idea to integrate Muggleborns earlier than at eleven. My parents were supporting and understanding, but a lot of Muggles came to hate what they thought unnatural or even demonic powers in their children. I have since met quite a few Muggle-raised or Muggleborn who suffered abuse, like Harry. And my view of Dumbledore changed, too. What was he thinking, sending a child back into London during the Blitz? Tom Riddle may or may not have been a psychopath from childhood on, but living through something like that is bound to leave a mark. It goes a long way to explain his obsession with immortality. I do not believe that conception from somebody influenced by a love-potion causes the child to be unable to feel love. Sometimes I wonder what would have become of Riddle if somebody would have cared about him."
"We will never know. Severus and I try to think as little as possible about him and everything connected to him. To answer your unspoken question – personally I think one cannot atone for some things and I have done such things. On the other hand no one gains from me sitting around doing nothing. Most of my fellow Death Eaters, who have committed comparable crimes, are out of Azkaban by now. I try to do my best for my fellow human beings, be they wizarding folk or not, and for society in general. Sev and I have developed several medicinal charms-potions-combinations that are well on their way to become standard in wizarding hospitals around the world."
"And you live here together?"
"We do, but we might have to relocate soon. Two men living together is frowned upon in Russia. It was easier in former times, as there was quite a lack of affordable living space and all kind of people lived together. As it is quite obvious that we do not lack money the pressure is getting higher and higher. This datcha has wards against a homophobic mob but neither Sev nor I like to be accosted during shopping for dinner. We are used to watch out for Aurors or for Brits in general, but we do not want to have to hide who we are. The big irony is that we aren't gay, even if we sleep with each other occasionally. We saved each other's lives for decades, we fought the demons in our lives together, we need each other like air or like water. If you know about women who would understand this and that Sev still strikes out to hurt if the memories become too much or that I have times I do not get up from my bed for weeks feel free to introduce them to us."
Hermione had listened with growing astonishment and now was deep in thought. She looked Antonin square into the eyes.
"You are lucky to have each other. Professor Snape and you have been in a difficult place far longer than my friends and I but we still had issues. This war should never have rested on the shoulders of school-children! Dumbledore and his damned secrets!" She drew a shaky breath, "After the war the friendship of Harry, Ron and I crumbled. We had different needs and different approaches to healing. Harry has found his rock in Ginny, and he was seeing a Muggle therapist to work through his issues from the abuse before daring to have children of his own. Ron was looking for a woman like his mother to soothe his pain and I could not be that for him. I went to counselling as well, I told them I was kidnapped and tortured and glamoured my scars to look like cigarette burns and random slashes of a knife. My parents understand now why I Obliviated them but our relationship is not as close as before. Luna Lovegood has a way of understanding I find very helpful but we see each other not very often due to her travels. I fear I have become quite anti-social, and also quite lonely. I tend to work to forget everything, but sometimes I get the feeling that I am missing something vital."
Neither had noticed that Snape had already fired up the stove and had dinner nearly ready.
"For this evening you won't be missing dinner, at least. Fetch some parsley and chive, set the table and open the wine, please."
Hermione went into the garden for the requested herbs and took her time. She was heartily glad that both men had carved themselves a niche in this post-war world and that they were as comfortable as possible. Still filled with many questions she made her way back into the kitchen.
Dinner was simple but very tasteful. Their conversation started with the spellwork on Hermione's postcard and ran from there. Somewhere along Snape – Severus by now – remarked how refreshing it was to talk to someone with whom they needn't to watch every word, either because their counterparts could not follow or because of the need for secrecy. Antonin tended to look at her in a way that made her feel tingly all over and her former Potions master used his very dry humour to make her laugh until her sides ached. After her third glass of firewhiskey she blundered on in typical Gryffindor fashion.
"Are you two flirting with me?"
Snape answered with a guarded look, "And what if we were?"
"I might be a tad overwhelmed."
"We can work with that." A glance passed between the two men.
Antonin spoke up, "A walk to clear our heads might be beneficial."
The wording brought a whiff of Austen into the room again. Hermione stretched in her chair and took her time to look them over. They were working in tandem to clean up the kitchen. Dolohov was wearing loose linen trousers and a shortsleeved shirt, Snape a black t-shirt and jeans cut off above his knees. Both were barefooted. Of very different build, one compact and muscled, the other lean and light, it was clear that both were in good shape physically. The Dark Marks were faded to a light grey, only visible if on looked very closely.
Snape passed his wand over all three of them before they left the datcha. He murmered, "Just to keep the gnats away. Come on, a white night is waiting."
They were silently making their way through the woods surrounding the datcha, up a hill. On the top, under an oak-tree, Dolohovs handkerchief became a blanket. Sitting down Severus pointed out the city, various ships and explained about the peculiar night sky.
"In two days time this place is filled with families watching the fireworks on June 12th. If you have no fixed timetable you should stay until then."
Dolohov cut in, "We have tickets for ballet at the Mariinsky tomorrow. Scottish Symphony and In the night. I guess we could get a third, if you like."
Hermione did not need to think about the offer for long. She had not felt in sync like now with her body and soul for a long time.
"I would like to stay."
"A good decision, thank you for your trust."
They sat for a while longer, watching falling stars, and when Hermione could no longer suppress a yawn they beckoned her to follow another path down the hill. Soon they reached a small stream. With an impish grin she wouldn't have dreamed to see on the solemn man's face Antonin asked her, "Care to wake up?"
He was already unbuttoning his shirt and hanging it over the branch of a small tree on the bank. A splash alerted her to the fact that Severus was already in the water. Dolohov stripped down to his pants and looked at her questioningly.
After the postcard with instructions for healing her wound from the Department of Mysteries the scar was not as noticeable as before, a silvery star on her sternum and a line along her torso. Usually Hermione put a Glamour on it when wearing a swimming costume or a dress with a plunging neckline but today she didn't care. Wherever her actions during the last two days were taking her, hiding what Antonin had caused was not the way to go, even if she had forgiven him long ago. Dropping her trousers and top she stepped closer to the water wearing only her undergarments.
Testing the temperture with her toes Hermione shuddered.
"That's as freezing as the Black Lake!"
"What did you expect? We're even farther North than Inverness!" Both men laughed and Antonin was splashing little amounts of water in her direction.
"Best way to do it is quick." Snape quipped. As she still hesitated he turned towards his friend and mock-whispered, "Classic case of wrong-sorting. She should have been in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor!"
"That is remarkably unsubtle for the former Head of Slytherin." Hermione walked a few steps upstream and threw herself into the water. The river was rather deep and slow near the bank they had undressed on and therefore allowed her to dive right under the two paddling men. She only hoped that she got the right one – Snape – when she slung her arms round his waist, dragging him under water. Not being suicidal she released the body quickly and used a few underwater strokes to put some distance between her victim and herself.
Antonin was laughing so hard he had to grapple the branch of an overhanging willow as he couldn't paddle anymore. Severus was standing in shallower water, clearly torn between outrage and laughter. His eyes narrowed into her direction before he dove back in. As Hermione hid behind Dolohov the waterfight soon went three ways with lots of dunking, grabbing and splashing. The water was very cold therefore they could not keep it up for very long and found themselves panting and wet on the river bank.
"We should Apparate back, I do not want to sneeze during the ballet tomorrow," Severus said. Antonin did a Hominium Revelio as they had made quite some noise and might have attracted spectators. When the spell didn't show anything both men stepped right and left of her and Apparated back to the datcha. Landing right in a spacious bedroom Hermione looked at her companions with a raised eyebrow. The Russian smirked, "I directed us to Sev's room because that's where the linen cupboard is." He threw her a thick towel, "If you want to interpret my actions differently we are open to negotiations."
"Negotiations?"
The Potions master cut in, "Well, yes. Two men, one woman, partly opposite sides of the war, the difficulties of long distance relationships et cetera, et cetera. We got to know your intentions."
Hermione was not sure she was been had. Relationship? Intentions? The surreal feeling of the last hours and the admittedly good company Snape and Dolohov were might have led her to thinking about maybe, maybe having a threesome with the two men. And then go back to her flat, her friends and her life in London as a consultant. Her after three years of owning it still impersonal flat, her friends busy with their growing families, her life that consisted of the odd visit to a museum or bookshop and otherwise of work, work, work. Seeing her pensieve mien Antonin took Severus' elbow and dragged him out of the room, "We'll put the kessel on while you dress."
The young woman nodded distractedly. Thinking about it properly it occurred to her quickly that neither man had the temperament for a fling. They either commited or made do with the life they had. But what about her? Hermione had met some interesting people over the last years but no one that had made her thinking about settling down. The family life she observed with her friends sometimes frightened her. They were always exhausted, their life was nearly always chaotic and plans tended to crumble at a moment's notice because of a child's stomach bug. Having thought of theoretically having one or two children at one point in her life, raising them with two highly organised, grown up men might be the only way her personality could stand the inevitable upheaval such an endeavour would mean. The need to plan had surely been a character trait of her before going to Hogwarts but the constant stress and the war had made it grow exponentially. Deeply buried under the veneer of successful, confidential witch was a woman insecure about her ability to be a relaxed enough mother. Hermione Granger did not fear to be a mother not good enough, no, she feared to be too stifling, too controlling.
But such thoughts were in the far future. She squared her shoulders and made her way to the kitchen to negotiate a courtship as a way to get to know each others quirks.
