When Antonin returned, he was not pleased with me.
"What did you do to yourself this time?" He demanded. "You almost died last week, and today you try to get yourself blown up?"
I shrugged. I reached for him to kiss him hello, but stopped at the last second. I was still a little nervous around him after the last week's revelations.
He noticed my hesitation and leaned down to kiss me. I put my book aside and kissed him back, sitting up all the way in bed to kiss him deeply.
He sank down next to me and leaned his forehead against mine. I wanted to pull him into bed with me, but I wasn't sure how he would react.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.
"Just fine," I replied, "Draco said the burn will take a week or so to heal, but besides that nothing. If only it had burned off that awful scar."
Antonin's forehead furrowed. He picked up my other forearm and kissed it delicately, directly on the mudblood scar I tried not to look at. I smiled at him and kissed his forehead, then smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows with my finger.
"Long day?" I asked.
"You have no idea," Antonin grumbled, "We spend all day chasing dead ends. Bad information, I guess, but we are wandering around some muggle neighborhood for hours looking for house that does not exist."
Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief, and the knot of worry in my stomach unclenched just a bit.
"Sounds deadly boring," I smiled placidly at him.
Antonin shrugged, and his eyes trailed down from my face to the skin exposed by the thin camisole I had put on before I got in bed.
"I want you," he whispered. He looked me in the eyes and put a hand on my cheek, "Is that okay?"
"More than okay," I whispered back.
We woke up the next morning still naked, wrapped around each other. I didn't want to move, but I could hear my stomach growling and I realized I had forgotten to eat again. I rolled out form under Antonin's arm and padded quietly into the bathroom.
When I came back, Antonin was gone.
My stomach twisted in a knot, and I tried to fight the feeling of foreboding taking over my body. I knew Antonin had been summoned, and I could guess why. I hadn't thought that my deception wouldn't be discovered quite so soon. I pulled on a pair of warmly lined winter robes, and descended the stairs quickly. I grabbed a sandwich off of the abandoned breakfast buffet and ran out the door. Lucius never had remembered to re-establish the wards keeping me inside the manor and I'd been careful to never draw attention to that fact.
I was intending on hiding myself in the woods until Severus got back and could extract me. Even if my cover wasn't blown, there was still a pretty good chance Voldemort would kill me anyway.
I had barely made it three steps down the grand staircase when Antonin popped into being just in front of me, holding his silver mask in one hand. He didn't ask where I was going or why. He grabbed my upper arm and shook me roughly.
"What happened, Mishka?" he demanded. I shook my head. "You have to tell me!" he insisted, "I need to know!"
I shook my head again, "It's safer for you not to know."
"DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" he roared.
"I won't let you get killed for my actions!" I yelled back.
He shook me again, "Don't do this, little one!" he growled. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. We stared at each other for a second, and then he grabbed his arm. I knew he was being summoned.
"Do it," I ordered him.
"Hermione-" he started, but I grabbed him and kissed him hard.
"Do it," I begged him, "Please."
For a moment Antonin looked at me with a wounded, confused expression. Then he crushed me to him and we disapparated with a pop.
We landed in the middle of a circle of masked faces, and Antonin replaced his own. They were all looking at someone behind me, and I turned around slowly to face the evil, snake-like face that haunted my dreams.
Voldemort gestured at Atonin, and he fell back into the circle. Voldemort stood up and stalked towards me. My knees shook, and I could feel my chest prickling and sweaty. I wished I'd worn less-warm robes.
"So, Madame Dolohov," he hissed, "Even after all we have given you, you still betray us."
I didn't say anything. I was determined I'd die with dignity. I though of Harry, of Ginny, and the Weasleys, and I thought of Atonin returning tonight to an empty bed.
"Show our dear friends what you've done," he hissed. I realized what was happening just in time, and I called the memory to the forefront of my mind, hoping that Voldemort wouldn't dig any deeper.
He hit me with a charm I hadn't seen before, and I felt a sickly, yellow bubble slide out of my mind and envelop the whole room. I supposed that they were all watching the memory of me changing the addresses. I hoped I'd managed to cut it off before the part with Draco.
It was odd, everyone else was clearly immersed in the memory, and I was just watching them as they stood immobile. My eyes darted to the door, but any thoughts of escape were quickly foiled by Nagini, who was curled around a column staring at me with hungry eyes.
I simply waited, for the longest five minutes of my life, until the sickly yellow bubble popped. Everyone in the room gave a small jerk, and to my surprise I saw the bulky form of Antonin charge towards me. Even with his mask, I recognized his stride immediately. He crossed the space between us in seconds, and before I could say or do anything he had backhanded me across the face. I flew back several paces and hit the floor hard.
"HOW DARE YOU!" he roared at me.
I picked myself up gingerly, shocked but still determined not to reveal my mission.
"I'm sorry, Antonin," I whimpered, "I didn't mean to betray you, but Harry is the only family I have left. With my parents gone, it's just the two of us."
He grabbed me by the front of my robes and raised his hand again.
"Please!" I whimpered, "I didn't want to betray you, but I just couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to him. He's my brother in all but blood." Tears were running down my face and I made no effort to stop them.
Antonin slapped me again, holding me up so that I didn't fall over.
"Dolohov," said Voldemort smoothly. Antonin jerked to attention, releasing me and whirling around as if he had just remembered the rest of the room. He dropped to one knee. I followed suit, falling more than kneeling.
"I humbly beg your pardon, my Lord."
"I admire your fervor, Dolohov, but you have still failed me. A man should know what happens in his own household. Crucio!"
Antonin writhed on the floor next to me, but didn't make a sound.
"Please, my Lord!" I cried, "He had no idea."
After a long moment, Voldemort raised his wand and Antonin's body relaxed.
He pointed it to me, and I steeled myself.
"Wait, my Lord, I beg you!" Antonin interjected. I looked over at him, stunned, as he picked himself up off the floor. He slaps me across the face, but then intervenes in my torture? What was going on?
Voldemort raised an eyebrow.
"My lord, she is carrying my child. I promise you she will be punished, but I beg you not to do anything that will make her lose my heir."
I couldn't hide the expression of shock on my face. Voldemort cackled.
"Well, more Purebloods are always a cause for celebration, I suppose. You will discipline her, Dolohov?"
"Most severely my Lord," he confirmed. After a pause he added, "If my Lord permits, might I take her to my family's cabin until the birth to ensure that she has no more opportunities to... interfere?"
Voldemort nodded, "A sensible precaution. You may go."
Antonin bowed low, "Thank you, my lord. You are most merciful."
Without looking at me, he grabbed my by the arm and disapparated. We landed in the snow outside of a small cabin. I stumbled back a few paces, still in shock at not being dead. Antonin opened the door and gestured for me to enter.
I followed him in and stood just inside of the door. Antonin stepped toward me and raised his hand again. I flinched, and put an arm up to catch the blow. After a second, when it didn't fall I opened my eyes.
Antonin was standing in front of me, arm still outstretched, looking stricken.
"Hermione," he said in a soft voice, as if talking to a small animal.
I let my arm drop, and sunk into a chair. I was too shocked to even process his abrupt change in attitude. Somehow the first thing that popped out of my mouth was,
"Am I really pregnant?"
"Of course not," replied Dolohov, still in that same soft voice. I finally caught on,
"You were acting?" he nodded, "You must be an amazing occlumens," I marveled.
He shrugged awkwardly. He still looked deeply disturbed. I spotted a whiskey decanter on a shelf and crossed the room to retrieve it, snagging two glasses. I set them on the table between us and poured us each a stiff drink.
"I can't believe I'm alive," I said bluntly.
"I can't believe I hit you," whispered Dolohov. I looked over at him, somewhat surprised that hitting me was the part of the evening that bothered him the most. "I promised myself," he explained, "As a child, my father... hit my mother. Often. I promised myself I'd never be like him."
I stood up and walked over to the chair he was sitting in. I curled myself into his lap and pillowed my head on his chest.
"You saved my life," I said quietly, "I'm grateful."
"What the fuck," he said quietly, "I never imagine I'd hear my own wife thanking me for slapping her across the face."
He wrapped his arms around me. I knew if I was ever going to succeed in turning him away from the Death Eaters, it was now. I knew that wasn't the purpose of the mission, but I wanted it so desperately. I couldn't stand knowing that this good man, this loving husband, was under the power of the Death Eaters and Voldemort.
"Please leave them," I said quietly, "You see what these people are like, you see what they make you do. They're not who you thought they were."
"Hermione, you know there are so many reasons I can't."
"What are your reasons?" I demanded.
"First of all, I've done things for this cause. Things that the Order can never forgive."
"We've all done things in war," I argued, "I've killed. Hell, I sent a woman to be raped by a pack of centaurs."
"But-" he started.
"We've all killed," I interrupted him, "My point is that if I say you're with us, the Order will accept you. I promise."
"Little one, I admire your idealism, I do. But that same type of idealism is what got me into this mess in the first place."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"They can't win, mishka. The Dark Lord can't die."
"He can and he will!" I argued back, and I decided on the spur of the moment to risk it all, "We've destroyed all of his horcruxes but one, and that one's being hunted down as we speak. Very soon, he will die like every other man."
"He made a horcrux?" asked Antonin, stunned.
"Seven," I corrected, "He destroyed the one in Harry at the battle of Hogwarts, and we've been destroying the rest ever since."
"That evil fucker," Antonin growled, stunned. I pressed my advantage.
"Yes, he is. But you don't have to follow him any more. Be free. Please."
After a minute that felt like a century, Antonin finally nodded.