I found a lovely window-seat in a little turret and settled down to try out the information I'd found in my new text. Over the course of an hour, I managed to make a pen move twice. Once it hovered for a moment before touching down, and the second time it came rocketing towards me so quickly I'd had to duck to prevent losing an eye. It was like being a first year again, except that I didn't think I'd been this bad at magic even as a firstie.

After another hour I'd developed what promised to be a splitting headache if I didn't stop, so I reluctantly hid the book and leaned back to close my eyes for a second.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I should be feeling guilty about having sex with two different men in one morning, but I dismissed that though quickly. I reminded myself that I had a mission, and that was part of it. Plus, a sly voice in my head that sounded exactly like Ginny added, it was damn fun. I quickly pushed those thoughts aside with the help of the goblin history book I'd snagged for some light reading.

It must have been late afternoon by the time I heard heavy footfalls climbing the winding stairs to my reading spot. Dolohov's head crested the staircase and he sighed when his eyes found me.

"You missed lunch," he groused.

"I forgot."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"Ummm..." I had completely forgotten to eat all day in the excitement of the library, and suddenly I noticed that I was very hungry. Dolohov climbed the remaining stairs and sat by my side.

"Mopsy?" He called. She blinked into existence, took one look at me and disappeared again, shaking her head.

"We can't eat in the library!" I said, scandalized.

"Of course we can. You'll just have to put down the book," Dolohov argued patiently.

Mopsy reappeared with a crack and set down a huge tray in front of us with at least 5 different dishes of hearty food.

"Anything else, Master Antonin?" She squeaked.

"That'll be all, Mopsy." He answered. She disappeared with a crack.

I huffed indignantly, still not sold on the idea of eating in a library. Antonin took the book gently from my hands and replaced it with a fork.

"What is this anyway? I can't even read the title."

"Oh! It's fascinating really. It's a 2nd century account from one of the original instigators of the first Goblin wars."

"You can read ancient Goblin?" Asked Dolohov incredulously, as he cut off a piece of what looked like lamb.

"Oh just a bit," I answered modestly. "Believe it or not, before this whole disaster started I wanted to be a historian. Professor Binns gave me extra lessons in ancient languages."

Dolohov chuckled, "Surely, you must have always suspect."

"Suspected what?" I asked, nonplussed. I grudginlg began to eat, overpowered by the fantastic aromas.

"That you couldn't really be a muggle born." My stomach soured instantly.

"Not at all," I answered stiffly. "There are plenty of brilliant muggle borns out there."

Dolohov snorted.

"Dirk Cresswell, Johannes Jonker, Marianne Curie-" I argued hotly.

"Okay, okay, yes there are exceptions," he cut me off.

"And how many exceptions does it take to make a rule?" I snapped back. I wasn't sure why I was bothering to argue it with him, but I couldn't stop, "And while we're at it, Bellatrix is a pureblood and she's an absolute nutter."

Dolohov's face clouded over at the mention of Bellatrix, "She is disgrace. She respects no customs or traditions. She revels in pain of others. I cannot think why the Dark Lord-" He cut off abruptly, but I had been sure that Dolohov had been teetering on the edge of a criticism. Very interesting.

After a moment, he rallied. "Okay is true that muggle borns can be clever, and some Purebloods are not, but it remains that the truly great wizards and witches are Pureblood. They understand customs of our world."

"And yet your Dark Lord's a half-blood." I replied before I could think better of it.

Dolohov's eyes widened, and he dropped his for with a clang. He leaned quickly down the staircase to check that there was nobody nearby. Then he cast a silencing charm around us and gripped my upper arm. "Don't ever go say that again," he growled.

"You're hurting me." I whispered.

His grip lessened, but the intensity of his gaze did not. "Don't say things like that," he repeated.

"Even if they're true?" I asked.

"Look, mishka, I know your Order told you things, but is not possible. The reason we all came to the Dark Lord was to protect and preserve pureblood wizarding tradition. How could he be half blood?

"Because his dad was a muggle. Yes, his family is the Gaunts, on his mother's side. But his father is muggle, Tom Riddle, born in Little Hangleton."

"Lies."

"It's not lies. Who does he say is father is, then?"

"He does not say."

"And why do you think that is?"

Dolohov sighed deeply, and growled "I do not want or need to know why that is. It is dangerous to question him."

"Don't you want to know the truth?"

Dolohov's expression softened. "Look, Hermione. I do not want to see you hurt. No good will come of this. Please, for me, drop it?"

Contrary to popular belief among some boys I know, I do actually know a lost cause when I see one. "Fine," I acquiesced, "I won't mention it again. But will you do something for me?"

"What?" He rumbled suspiciously.

"Think about what I've said. Just think about it."

...

Dinner that night was a surprisingly pleasant affair. Lucius and the Lestranges had been called away on business, so Dolohov, Daphne, Narcissa and I dined alone. Afterwards, we sat around drinking coffee and listening to the wizarding wireless. I was surprised to see that Dolohov could be surprisingly outgoing in the right company. When we finally retired to bed, my head was buzzing with that lovely combination of coffee and elf-made wine.

I was actually giggling as Dolohov shut the door to our room behind us.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually enjoyed myself," I said happily.

"I couldn't wait to leave," he replied.

"Really?" I asked with surprise, "you seemed to be having such a good time."

The corners of his eyes crinkled, "Oh, I was. But I was a little impatient for his part."

Without warning, Dolohov picked me up and I instinctively wound my legs around his waist. Before I knew it, I was pushed up against the door and kissing him for dear life. I pushed his shirt off impatiently and kissed my way across his shoulders, sucking and biting as I went.

"Fuck, witch," He growled. He pushed my body higher against the door and ripped my robes open. Pushing the cups of my bra out of the way, he set to tormenting my breasts with his mouth. I hardly recognized the needy whines that were leaving my mouth.

I was vaguely aware that he was walking across the room, with my legs still wrapped around his waist, when we dropped down into one of the chairs by the fire. He grabbed my hair in an almost-painful grip and tilted my head back to kiss me again. However, this time I was determined to regain some control. I pulled back and dropped to my knees before him, sliding out of my robes as I went. I unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its confines.

I remembered that it had felt big yesterday, but I had no idea how I could take it all in my mouth. I wrapped my hand around it tentatively and looked up at Dolohov. He was looking down at me, eyes almost black with lust. I could imagine the picture I made, kneeling in front of him in only my underwear, bra askew and hair wild.

I gave him a tentative lick and he growled appreciatively. Summoning my Gryffindor courage, I began in earnest, taking as much of him in my mouth as I could and fisting the base of his cock in my hand. A very short while later, Dolohov pushed me roughly off him. I looked up in confusion.

"Did I do something wrong?"

He chuckled darkly, "Something too right, mishka. I want to come inside of you tonight, and you were about to prevent that."

He yanked my arm towards him so I fell on to his lap, straddling his thighs. His mouth caught mine in another bruising kiss, while his hands ran down my back and squeezed my ass. I moaned into the kiss and ground myself against his cock, loving the way it rubbed up against the thin fabric of my knickers. I felt Dolohov shove them to the side, and spear two fingers inside of me.

I gasped at the sudden intrusion, and he growled in my ear, "So wet for me, little wife."

"Yes, Antonin, please" I begged.

He flicked his thumb against my clit, "Say it again," he growled.

God, I love his voice.

"Please!" I panted, squirming against him.

"Say my name," he ordered.

"Antonin!" I moaned.

With a satisfied growl, he lifted me up and lowered me on to his cock. I gasped and dropped my head on to his shoulder. Dear Merlin. Oh god.

After a moment, I began rocking back and forth on his lap. Antonin sat back and let me ride him slowly, seemingly content to watch me bounce up and down on his cock. Very soon, I felt myself nearing the precipice. I rocked against that special spot inside me and suddenly fell apart. Antonin's hands were around my waist, guiding me through my orgasm. Afterwards, I stilled and dropped my head back into the crook of his neck. I was still very aware of his cock inside of me, stretching me in the most delicious way. His large, callused hands stroked my back gently.

After a moment, Antonin's grip on my hips tightened and he was guiding me up and down again. We gained speed quickly, and soon he was slamming me down on his cock, groaning "Yes, so tight. So perfect." I was aware of pain, but it barely registered in the waves of pleasure.

Seconds later, I felt him come inside me and I ground my hips gently into him, drawing out his orgasm. Rather than pulling out immediately after, he pulled me closer to him and snuggled my head under his chin. We sat like that for several minutes as our breathing returned to normal.

Eventually, Antonin reached into the robes still on his shoulders and muttered a cleaning charm. He stood up, his softening member finally slipping out of me, and carried me over to the bed. He laid down next to me without another word, I curled into his side. As I drifted off to sleep, I realized I'd forgotten to use legilimency on him again.