In the next week, Dolohov and I existed in a companionable silence. We read together at night, ate breakfast together in the room and were ignored by the other diners at dinner. I helped Severus during the day. If I survived this, I was starting to think I'd like to take a Potions Mastery. We slept on opposite sides of the bed. He studiously ignored the way I moved closer to his warmth in the chill of the night, and was out of bed before me every morning. I figured he was going to exercise since he always came back sweaty and red from the wind. More than once, I wondered if there was a Death Eater Fitness Center.

By Friday, my plan was in place. I'd complied a list in my head of suitable victims, men who I felt certain the world would be better off without. It's war, after all. Sometimes people get killed. I didn't really think it would come to that, surely Snape had been exaggerating, but better safe than sorry.

Now all that remained was to see who fell into my hands. I reminded myself to be patient and let the right opportunity arise. With that in mind, I dressed quickly to give myself what I judged to be a ten-minute head start on Antonin. He had just gotten in the shower, and I could hear him humming something softly over the running water.

"Dolohov, can I go down to breakfast? I'm famished!"

He growled his assent and a soapy paw reached out of the shower to point his wand at the door wards. They dropped with a crackle and I stepped out the door. As I entered the main hallway, I spotted Scabior entering the kitchen, the door before the main dining room. Making sure nobody could see me, I treated myself to an evil smirk. If I wasn't careful I'd turn into a mini-Snape and take to sweeping around in billowing black robes. But really, it was too perfect. If anyone deserved what was about to happen, it was this little shit.

I stroked the freckle on my wrist, turning my pheromone emitters up to the highest setting. I'd been warned not to use this setting, as it could make the weaker-willed lose all control. Then again, that was kind of the point. I slipped into the kitchen behind him. I couldn't sense the pheromones myself, but I was sure they'd reach him quickly in the cramped space. I felt the warmth of the implant and was certain it was working. I glanced over myself and decided to loosen one more lace on my robes. Can't hurt after all.

Scabior had his back to me and seemed to be stealing from the liquor cabinet. At 8 am. Scumbag. He hadn't noticed me yet, but I'd soon remedy that.

I'd dressed carefully for this morning in a fine acromantula silk robe of a soft, velvety green. In addition to draping my curves in an attractive way without being obviously tight anywhere, I suspected it would rip quite easily to add some drama. It had long, conservative sleeves attached to a bustier top which showed just the right amount of cleavage. I knew I looked damn good without seeming like I was trying.

I knelt down on the hearth rug and scratched the new puppies behind the ears. They were still just tiny, black balls of wrinkles. "You did good, mama," I told the huge black hound who was nursing them. She rewarded me with an enthusiastic lick to the face, and I squealed with laughter. Scabior whirled around in surprise, and then fixed me with a predatory smile. I didn't get up yet, letting him tower over me, with a good view down the front of my robes.

" 'Ello beautiful" he said slowly, smirking.

I rolled my eyes internally. Honestly, is that the only line he has?

I straightened up and didn't have to fake my body's reaction to press myself against the wall, as far from him as possible. "Hello, Scabior."

He stalked closer. "It's been a while, poppet."

"Not long enough."

"Oh, now don't tell me didn' enjoy it." His eyes were black with lust and he was breathing heavily. I allowed myself to look around wildly, but didn't make a break for it. I estimated I still had 5 minutes until Antonin showed up.

Scabior closed the distance between us and pressed himself against me. I fought the urge to vomit as I felt his hot breath on my face. One of his disgusting hands reached for my cheek and I tried to break free.

Scabior gave a cold laugh and pinned my arms to the wall by my side. "Wha's the rush my beauty?" he slurred. Oh fuck. The alcohol would probably increase the reaction to the pheromones, but I couldn't reach my wrists to turn them off. This was going to escalate much more quickly than I'd planned for.

"Let me go, Scabior. Dolohov will kill you."

"Ahhh yes. I heard you'd found another Death Eater. Weren't enough for you, were I? Well we'll see abou' that," Without warning, he attacked my neck and started slobbering on it. No longer acting, I tried to push him off with my legs, but was well and truly trapped. 2 more minutes. I was desperate to free my arms and turn off the pheromones. I couldn't let Dolohov save me until the air had cleared or he might suspect something.

The black hound was barking from the corner, but happily she was too loathe to abandon her puppies to get involved more directly.

Scabior released my arm to rip the bodice of my robes open (I was right, one corner of my brain noted, that did give easily). Seizing the opportunity I brushed my fingers against the freckles on my wrist and felt the implant go cool. Before Scabior could touch me further, I scratched him across the face and screamed at the top of my voice, "DOLOHOV!"

To my dismay, Scabior hissed in pain but didn't release me. He slammed me back against the wall with such force that it knocked the air out of my lungs. Before I could breathe again, he hit me with a silencio . I found myself pinned to the wall again and I could feel his erection digging into my thigh.

Tears streamed down my face as I realized that I'd screwed up. Antonin wasn't coming, and this bastard was going to rape me. Again. I looked around desperately for any means of escape and spotted a block of knives. If I could just get him to release an arm…

However, Scabior was one step ahead of me. He grabbed both of my wrists in one hand and stuck them to the wall above us with a charm. He leaned back slightly to admire the picture I made, stuck to the wall with my dress ripped open. I swore to myself I would kill this bastard if it was the last thing I did.

BANG! The kitchen door slammed against the wall and Antonin came flying into the room. His wand was in his hand and murder was in his eyes. A pack of other Death Eaters stood in the doorway behind him.

"TY CHE, BLYAD?" Antonin roared.

Before Scabior could respond, he was blasted away from me and plastered onto the opposite wall. His head hit it with a sickening crack and he slid down.

"Renervate!" bellowed Dolohov. I didn't want to watch what came next. Sure I'd wished Scabior dead, but in an abstract way. I've seen a lot of people get tortured, and it never gets less awful.

Thankfully, a woman rushed forward and unstuck me from the wall. She wrapped me up in her cloak and pulled me away from the scene. As Scabior's screams filled the kitchen, she hustled me out under her arm. We pushed through the shocked crowd and she didn't say a word to me as she hustled me up to Antonin's rooms. I stumbled numbly along with her. Merlin, why did I think I could handle this?

When we got inside, she turned to me and tried to slip my robes off. I flinched away instinctively and she made a shushing noise. "It's okay Hermione, I'm just helping you get into the bath. You're a right mess." I supposed I was.

Then, it finally clicked in my head who she was: Daphne Greengrass. Even though I had barely known her at Hogwarts years ago, I didn't think twice about trusting her. In fact, I'd stopped thinking or feeling at all. I stripped off my dress and undergarments. I suppose I should have been embarrassed, but at that moment I didn't really care.

Daphne gave me a small smile and held out her hand to me. I took it and she lowered me into the bath tub. As it filled up with warm water, she handed me a bottle from Antonin's cabinet. "Calming solution," she explained "Just take a little sip." I did as she ordered, although I felt very calm. Maybe too calm. Could that be shock? I couldn't even feel the warmth of the bath tub water.

After a moment, I felt a little trickle of warmth slide down my throat, like drinking hot chocolate in a snow storm. Gradually the feeling returned to my body, and my emotions as well. I felt the shame, the anger, the fear and all the rest of it, but I was able to separate myself from them, examine them and acknowledge them calmly.

"Can I wash your hair?" Daphne asked me once the tub was full.

"You don't have to do that."

"Let me. There's blood all in it"

"Blood?"

"I think you have a head wound, but I can't see it through this mess." She gave me a tentative smile, clearly not sure if she should be cracking jokes yet.

I smiled back. "Story of my life."

With a quiet laugh, Daphne began shampooing my hair, feeling gently across my scalp to find the injury. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it, trying not to think about the man being tortured in the kitchen.

Suddenly, Daphne touched a tender spot and I hissed quietly. "Oh yes I see it now. Very shallow, don't worry. Head wounds tend to bleed more than others. I'll fix it up for you. Saludio."

As Daphne finished washing my hair, the door to the bathroom flew open and Dolohov stormed in, looking around wildly. When his gaze fell on us, he froze. For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed wrong footed. I swear he blushed. He turned his back on us and stood hulking in the doorway. With a start, I realized his robes were covered with blood.

Daphne exchanged an unsure glance with me, and at my nod she stood up. "I'll just be going then. Hermione's still got some bruises on her back that need to be seen to".

Dolohov didn't move a muscle as she squeezed past him in the doorway and hurried away. I heard the bedroom door shut, but Dolohov still didn't budge.

The calming draught was wearing off now, and I was starting to feel ashamed. I knew I shouldn't, but knowing and feeling are two different things. Was Dolohov angry at me? Was he refusing to acknowledge me?

"Dolohov?" I tried. He grunted. I wanted to get out of the tub, to talk to him on level ground, but he was blocking the towels. Absurdly, I realized he'd never seen me naked. I gathered my Gryffindor courage around me and stood up from the bath. His back tensed.

"I need a towel" I whispered.

He wordlessly threw one at me, still not looking at me. I toweled off quickly and wrapped myself up. I walked up behind him, and he finally moved, walking ahead of me into the bedroom. I made to scurry into my closet, but he growled, "Stop." Even from that one word, I could tell he was furious.

I froze, not daring to turn around. Dolohov closed the gap between us and it took everything I had not to tremble before him. Was he furious at me? Was he going to kill me? I could smell the blood from his robes.

"You're covered in blood," I blurted out. I slapped my hand to my mouth. Couldn't my inner know-it-all ever shut up?

To my surprise, Antonin said in a softer voice, "Don't move"

I took him at his word and heard the sounds of clothes hitting the ground. He vanished the robes, cast a scourgify on himself and came back towards me. I still didn't turn around, not sure if I could handle an angry, naked Russian head on. To my relief, I head "accio" and saw a pair of pajama bottoms zip past my face.

"Sit," Dolohov ordered. I sat on the bed, still facing away from him. For a long moment, nobody moved. Suddenly I gasped and flinched as I felt a huge, warm hand trace gently over the abrasions down my back to the top of my towel. Again, there was silence.

Screw this. I am a Gryffindor. If he's going to kill me I'm going to be looking him in the eye when he does it. I turned around and looked at him, absurdly aware of how muscular his tattooed chest was. "You're angry?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yes."

Suddenly I realized that along with fear, I felt ashamed. Not of what had just happened, or of being practically naked on a bed with him, but of betraying his trust. I was seized by a sudden urge to tell him everything. I clamped down on that. Come on Granger, don't get soft.

I settled on part of the truth. "I'm so sorry."

Antonin looked shocked. "Why are you sorry?"

Now I was genuinely confused. "What happened… in the kitchen. I'm your wife. And another man…"

He took my hand in a surprisingly gentle grip. It swallowed mine up. "Hermione, it is I who should be sorry. I who did not protect you."

This was not what I'd been expecting at all. All my past experiences had taught me that he should be furious at me, for brining it upon myself, for not fighting harder, for letting another man touch me before he'd had the chance. I shook my head to clear it of my memories.

"You're not angry at me?"

To my surprise he gathered me up in a hug and pressed me to his chest, wet hair and all. "Of course not, kotik. What kind of man do you think I am? You were attacked. From the marks on that scum's face I see you even fought bravely."

I didn't say anything, but I found myself leaning into him. This was the most I'd ever heard him say.

At last, he gently set me back on the bed and strode away from me. I heard him mumbling, half to himself. "I take this girl as my wife. Then I leave her in a house of vipers with no wand, no protection. Idiot. But now they learned, did they not? You do not fuck with Dolohovs."

I shivered and decided on the spot I didn't want to know what had happened to Scabior. Dolohov returned with a small, green pot of something.

"I will fix up your back. Lie face down." I complied, feeling exposed in only a short, white towel. I could still see Dolohov out of the corner of my eye and he unscrewed the little pot. I closed my eyes as I felt his callused hands pull the towel down to just above my bottom.

"Dolohov, what?"

"Antonin," he corrected gently, "I'm just put some bruise salve."

I shivered as the cold air hit my back, but in an instant I felt his fingers rubbing warm lotion into my shoulder. His fingers were gentler than I ever expected as he slowly worked his way across my back. The warmth was seeping into my muscles and I felt surprisingly relaxed. Coming off the adrenaline high of the last hour, I suddenly felt boneless.

"Do not worry, little one" he murmured, "I will make the pain go away."

I sighed, and he shifted slightly. As Dolohov's fingers continued to push into my tissue, I realized that the position we were in was shockingly intimate. All he'd have to do was roll me over, slide down the towel, and… No, I didn't need to think about that right now. However, once those images had appeared in my head, I couldn't shake them. I could feel myself getting wet. Dear Merlin, I realized, I'm so turned on right now. What is wrong with me?

Too soon, Dolohov reached the small of my back and pulled the towel up over me. I sat up, pulling the front of the towel to my chest. He sat looking at me, a look of concern etched on his face.

"Hermione, do you need a contracept-"

"-Merlin, no!" I interrupted. "No, he didn't get that far."

Dolohov's shoulders sagged with relief. "Good."

Suddenly, without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, and he froze for a second. I was about to pull back, thinking I'd misjudged, when he pulled me towards him and kissed back with dizzying fervor. In a matter of seconds I found myself on his lap, straddling him and kissing him with equal passion. I moaned as he fisted a hand in my hair and tipped my head back. Dolohov chuckled darkly against my lips. He kissed me again, softly and then sat back, holding me still on his lap.

"Don't stop," I begged.

He treated me to a rare smile. "I think we must, kotik. Today is not the day."

I shifted angrily on his lap, a little embarrassed to have appeared so eager. Dolohov groaned and his hands tightened on my waist. He leaned forward and growled in my ear, "When you are all healed, little one, I will show show you what happens when you grind against me like that." His voice shot straight the the hot ache between my thighs. I could only whimper quietly in response.

Like I weighted nothing at all, Dolohov stood up still holding me against him, pulled back the covers and dropped me unceremoniously in the bed. He wordlessly handed me a vial of dreamless sleep and smoothed the covers over my body. I looked at the vial and decided that I'd just process whatever the hell had happened this morning when I woke up.