A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Word count: 5615
Warning: Kidnapping, darkish themes, maybe Stockholm syndrome
"That's not the person you were supposed to kidnap!" Antonin screamed, looking at the bound witch in front of him.
"She's not?" Thorfinn asked, scratching his head. Antonin sighed.
"I told you to kidnap Potter's girlfriend! The red head blood traitor?"
"Ohh, but then what's she?"
"I don't know you idiot!"
"But we can still use her as bait, can't we?" Thorfinn asked. Antonin sighed. There was a reward out of for Potter, the Dark Lord himself would praise whoever captured the boy. He wanted him alive too, which made it all that much more difficult. Antonin looked at Hermione Granger, her mouth silenced with a silencing charm and her body bound.
"Maybe, maybe we can use her," he finally agreed, walking over and picking her up. She glared at him, somehow still able to move her eyes. He smiled tossing her over his shoulder. She was a slight of a witch, scrawny from being on the run.
"Get back to the Manor, no sense any letting anyone know we've got a plan."
"Right," Thorfinn agreed, apparating from the spot. Antonin carried Hermione to the guest bedroom of the cabin they were hiding out in. It had belonged to his great-grandmother, it was also a complete secret from the Dark Lord. Antonin had agreed to become a Death Eater, to try and help claim his rightful place in wizarding society, but he didn't like to let everyone know everything. He cherished his secrets, the time where he was alone with his own thoughts.
"Now, Miss Granger, Thorfinn might have taken you by accident, you'll have to forgive him for that, he's enthusiast about helping me out, but not much in the brains department. However, my dear, you will help us lure Potter, and after we have him, I promise I won't kill you," he stated. She only glared at him as laid her on the bed, noticing the way the neckline of her jacket revealed her collarbone. She might have been pretty if it weren't for the fact she was on the wrong side of things.
"I'm going to undo the spells on you now, one at a time, and if you behave, they'll stay off," he said, waving his wand over her.
"I hate you! I will get you for this, Harry will never be yours and he's going to save us all!" Hermione screamed, fighting to control her body. Antonin rolled his deep moss green eyes.
"You can say that all you want, but we both know he'll come for you. I don't want to harm you, not really, it would be a shame to mar such a pretty face," he added, running this thumb down her chin. She managed to move her head enough to try and bite him which only caused Antonin to laugh.
"Feisty, I like it, now, don't even think about running," he said, undoing the body bind. Hermione tried jumping to her feet only to fall flat on her face. Antonin picked her up by the arm and put her back in the bed, grabbing a tissue for the blood that was now running down her face from her nose.
"Episky," he said, waving his wand almost lazily. Hermione's nose snapped back into place and blood stopped.
"What did I say about marring that face?' he asked, handing her the tissue so she could clean the blood off her face and the front of her jacket. That proved to be hopeless and she slid off the pale pink jacket, tossing it aside.
"Why do you care?" she snapped.
"Why do I care about how you look? Let's see, it might have something to do with the fact once Lord Voldemort wins, I'll have my pick of little witches to use as I see fit, and if I'm the one who brings him Potter, well, I'd get my first choice, wouldn't I?"
"You want me to be your slave, to use and abuse me," Hermione spat.
"Ouch, you wound me with such an accusation. I would never abuse someone, that only leads to them trying to kill you the moment they get a chance, or leaving you naked in the snow. No, if you were mine, you'd be my princess. I'd buy you the finest laces, dress you up like a little doll," Antonin said, reaching out and toying with one of Hermione's curls. She yanked away from him.
"Let me go!"
"We both know that's not going happen. Now, how do you want to spend our first night together. I could make you some dinner, yes, I think that's what I'll do. You'll stay here, in this room. I'll be back with dinner," Antonin stated, rising to his feet. He closed the door, locking it and making sure to cast a silencing spell on it. Hermione could scream herself hoarse if she so desired, but he did not have to listen to it. Every word he'd told her was true, that she'd be his if he got his first pick. He remembered her from the Department of Mysteries, how she'd fought, the fire in her eyes. The fact she'd survived his spell showed him how strong she was, he'd killed stronger wizards with the same spell. No, she was special and she was going to be his, one way or another.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHHA
Hermione threw herself against the bed. She'd tried apparating. It was possible theoretically without a wand, but she hadn't been able to. Maybe this place was warded against it? No, she'd seen Thorfinn do it, therefore it had to be possible. She just couldn't do it. He'd had a wand though.
Giving up on that, she looked around at her prison. The walls were made of wooden planks. The floor was also wood. There were no windows and she could feel a slight draft coming from one wall. That had to lead outside. If she could figure out how to get outside, she could get home, couldn't she? She paced the room. There was a desk with a quill and several sheets of parchment. There was the bed Antonin had thrown her on.
It was a decent bed actually with sheets, pillows and a quilt with swirling silver, black, and navy blue designs. They almost looked like stars if one squinted at them. Where was she even? This couldn't be Malfoy Manor, that's where she had heard Lord Voldemort was staying. No, this was somewhere else. Why had they brought her here? There was a door besides the one leading to the main part of the house. Hermione opened it to find a toilet and a sink. Quickly she cleaned her face, scrubbing off as much dirt and grime as she could. She'd just turned the water off when she heard him returning.
"Dinner," Antonin's voice called out. The door clicked opening and he walked in carrying a tray. Hermione started to move towards him, planning on pushing past him and escaping. He must have sensed her plan because he expertly closed the door behind himself. She could hear it locking.
"Family magic," he stated, putting the silver tray on the desk. Hermione could see a bowl of something red and a small plate with crusty looking bread.
"Borchst,"he stated. "It's a soup made-"
"Of beetroot. I know," Hermione stated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Good, you enjoy it then?" he asked, sitting down on the chair. Hermione didn't answer. She actually had loved her grandmother's borscht, not that she'd ever admit it to her captor. Instead, she grabbed the bowl and threw it at his head. He dodged and it hit the wall, leaving a red splat pattern.
"Or you could redecorate my home."
"Your home?" Hermione asked, curious despite herself.
"One of them at least. You do realize I am doing you a favor not leaving you tied up in the basement."
"Go to hell."
"I would, Poppet, I would, but I think I am already there," he muttered, opening the door and stepping out of the guest room, leaving Hermione to her splattered soup and the piece of bread. He turned and walked to the kitchen, making himself a bowl and eating it as he thought about the best way to lure Potter to him.
Maybe he should let her owl him, no, she could find a way to warn him. He'd heard about her, how brilliant she was. He could see it, the intelligence in her eyes. He smiled. There would be more than enough time to trap Potter later, for now, he was going to enjoy having the wrong house guest in his home.
Hermione slept fitfully, having tried to stay awake, only to finally crash in the dark of the night. She hadn't touched the bread, refusing to eat anything he brought her. How could she trust his word that it wasn't poison. He was a Death Eater!
"Killing you wouldn't accomplish any of my goals," he stated the next morning setting down a bowl of porridge on the desk. Hermione could see the steam rising from it.
"I do not know if you like raisins or not, so I put them on the side," he said.
"I hate them," Hermione muttered, thinking about throwing them in Antonin's face.
"Same. I don't even know why I had some, Thorfinn probably left them. He likes to do that, leave things I hate."
"What's he to you?" Hermione asked, walking over to the desk and looking at the breakfast in front of her. She hadn't had much to eat on the run and it smelled so good.
"One of the few people in the Inner Circle that isn't a complete idiot," Antonin stated.
"Death Eaters," Hermione mumbled.
"Not all of us chose that life, Poppet, or believe everything."
"Then why do it, why take the mark, kidnap me, plan to kill my friends?"
"Means to an end," Antonin replied, leaving the room, the door locking behind him. Hermione waited until she was sure he wasn't hanging around outside the room before picking up a little bit of the porridge on her spoon. She wanted to resist, to not eat anything he gave, but her stomach growled in protest. She took the tiniest bite and blinked her shock as the taste of cinnamon and apples filled her mouth. Before she had a chance to stop herself, she ate the whole bowl.
Antonin peeked in on Hermione, having not heard her moving around for a bit. She was curled up in the bed, the empty bowl sitting on the tray. He smiled. He knew he was going to have to put the plan into motion soon, capture Potter, win the day. But... would his lord give him Hermione? Would he actually allow her to live? Those thoughts haunted Antonin as he tried to sleep that night. Maybe he'd made a mistake allowing her to interact with him, for him to take care of her as though she were a guest and not just bait for a trap he was having second thoughts about setting.
"Why are you keeping me here?" Hermione asked when Antonin brought her lunch.
"Where else would I keep you?" he answered, setting the tray of sandwiches down. Hermione eyed them.
"Oh, I don't know, where ever your boss is currently hiding these days," she answered, not moving from where she was sitting on the bed. Antonin noticed how her jeans were covered with smears of dirt, maybe dried blood. He hoped it wasn't hers. How could he have been so careless as to not think of that sooner.
"Malfoy Manor, no, I would not keep you there, Poppet. I know how his prisoners scream in their cells. Kept like animals, no, I could not do that to you," he stated. "Would you like some fresh clothing? I do not know much about witch's clothing, but I am sure I could procure something suitable," he suggested. Hermione looked down at her clothes.
"I'm fine," she snapped. Antonin merely nodded his head once before leaving her to her lunch. Despite what she said, he left the house for about an hour to visit a nearby town and find Hermione a few things; tops, a few skirts, and a clean robe. He had no idea about witch's undergarments, and knew better than to try and find something suitable for his guest. When he arrived home, Thorfinn was sitting on the front porch.
"Tony! There you are, it's been almost a week and we still haven't set the trap yet! What's taking so long?"
"I am working on it," Antonin said through gritted teeth. "It needs to be perfect and I do not want to be taken by surprise if it turns out Potter had more people on his side."
"Oh, right, good idea. So how's the little bitch? Have you broken her yet?" Thorfinn laughed.
"Now why would I want her broken?"
"So she's easier to deal with. Screamed her head off and tried to hex me when I nabbed her. Thought she'd be giving you even more trouble?"
"I've got her contained," Antonin stated, thinking about the fact he was still holding a bag of clothes for the witch. "Are you here for an actual reason or just to question my plan?"
"No reason, just letting you know our lord is toying with Lucius again, apparently he's making his son part of the group. Thought you'd find it funny," Thorfinn replied. Antonin nodded, despite the fact he did not find it interesting and the idea of forcing the young Malfoy to take the mark was making him queasy.
"Thanks, I needed that. I need to head inside, make sure that little witch hasn't done anything stupid," he said, hoping Thorfinn would get the hint and leave. Thankfully, Thorfinn agreed and apparated off, probably back to the manor to torture the prisoners being held there. Antonin sighed in relief. Thorfinn might be his best mate, his only mate at the moment, but that didn't mean he agreed with him on some, well, most, things. He opened the front door and made his way to the room he was quickly starting to think of as Hermione's.
"Got you something," he announced, unlocking and opening the door. He tossed the bag over to the bed. Hermione glared at him.
"Can't have you wearing the same dirty clothing day in and out. Had to guess at your sizes a bit."
"Why?! Why are you doing this! Treating me like this, I thought I was nothing more than bait," she said, nudging the bag with the toe of her shoe.
"Doesn't matter to me if I torture you or treat you like a guest, although, always heard you get more flies with honey, not sure why one would want flies though."
"They're not talking about real flies, just that you get better results if you're nice," Hermione commented absentmindedly, almost forgetting who she was talking to for a moment.
"Oh, that makes sense. I shall leave you to change clothing if you wish, maybe if you agree not to destroy my home I can let you out of the room?" he suggested. Hermione threw a shoe at his head.
"Or not," he laughed, locking her back in the room.
Hermione looked at the clothing he'd brought her. It would fit and wasn't horrible. She still didn't understand his logic. She was nothing more than bait for Harry. She'd be killed once they had him, so why did he care about her comfort. And offering to let her out of the room? What was that about? She remembered him telling her about his master plan, about her being his. She bit back a laugh. That was never going happen, no matter how many outfits he gave her or how many meals he made her.
The next few days followed the same pattern for Hermione and Antonin. He made her meals, she threw things at his head, refused to speak to him, or glared at him from the bed. He ignored her behavior and continued to bring her things. The latest was a volume from his library.
"I heard you like to read, Poppet, I thought maybe you'd care for a book, something to alleviate the boredom?" he suggested, setting it on the desk.
"When are you going to do it, capture Harry? I thought you'd have used me by now," she said, pretending to ignore the book.
"The Dark Lord's out of town this week," Antonin said, shrugging his wide shoulders. Hermione pretended she didn't notice how his shirt moved against his chest. It was tight, but not overly tight and if the situation were anything other than what it was, she might find him attractive.
"Book's probably in Russian," she muttered.
"Yes, and no, it, like all my books, has a translation spell on it, one of my own creation. They can become any language the reader desires, and nothing is lost in translation," he added, giving a small laugh. Hermione eyed him.
"A spell you created, like the one that you used in the Department of Mysteries, the one that almost killed me?"
"Yes, that was one I created also," he admitted. "But, you're not dead, so maybe it's not as good as I thought," he chuckled, leaving Hermione in the locked room. She watched the door for a minute before standing up and walking over to the desk. The book was thick with a red leather cover and golden lettering. She picked it up, half wondering if it was booby trapped. She realized she didn't think it was, that it was exactly what it appeared. She still didn't understand why he was doing this, why he wasn't just getting this whole thing over.
Ever since that first night, when he'd made her dinner, she'd been confused. She knew she had heard him talking to his friend, Thorfinn, the other day, was it the other day? She'd lost track of how long she'd been here. She looked at the title and a small smile crossed her face. She had no idea how Antonin had known she loved Greek mythology, or why he had a first edition on the subject. She had a guess on the last one. She was realizing there was a lot more to Antonin than met her eyes.
Antonin debated peeking on Hermione. He wanted to know if she'd decided to read the book, or if like everything else he presented her, she'd thrown it somewhere. She was something else, he had to admit that. The plan was not going at all how he'd wanted it to. It should have been simple, kidnap Potter's girlfriend, the blood traitor, and then use her to catch Potter.
Hermione Granger was not part of that plan, neither were the feelings that were starting to stir in Antonin's heart for the girl. She would never see him that way, he was sure of that. To her, he was her captor, a Death Eater, the person who wanted her and all her friends dead. If only Thorfinn had managed to kidnap the right girl, then they'd not be in this situation. Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just throw her to his lord's mercy, not now. With a sigh, he grabbed a bag of store bought biscuits and opened the door to Hermione's room. She was sitting on the desk, of all places, her legs hanging over the side, her face buried in the book he'd left her.
"Brought you a snack Poppet," he said, setting the biscuits down on the chair. She raised her head and looked at him.
"That's nice."
"I might consider letting you out of this room, you know, if you could behave and not try to escape or destroy my things."
"Not happening. I might as well break something before you have me killed."
"I told you, Poppet, I don't want you dead. I want you as mine."
"Same thing," she replied, slamming the book shut and dropping it on the floor. Antonin tried not to say something snarky. It was a first edition after all. He stared at Hermione for a moment, pretending he didn't see the same agony at treating the book horribly in them. She turned from him, staring at the wall. Antonin left, locking the door behind him. Part of him wondered what exactly Hermione would do if he did 'accidentally' leave it unlocked. It wasn't as if she could leave the house. It was warded to keep her inside. That was another small stroke of brilliance. He could come and go as he pleased, Thorfinn could come and go within reason, but only because Antonin had added him to the wards. He was starting to think about changing that. Thorfinn could be the one who brought all of this crashing down. Antonin made his way to his library, grabbed another book that he thought might interest Hermione and set it on the small hall table outside of her room. He'd give it to her tomorrow, maybe, if she didn't throw her breakfast at him.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Hermione picked up the book, making sure she hadn't damaged it. The look on Antonin's face when she'd dropped it, that horror. She'd felt the same thing, and for a moment, she'd felt almost sorry for him. She knew better. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything about him. He had had her kidnapped, was going to use her to kill one of her best friends, and add to that the only fact he wanted her alive was to be some sort of plaything, she hated him! She nestled herself in the corner where the bed met the wall, the book in her lap. She would never admit it was interesting, seeing the stories in something more akin to their original telling.
"Wonder what other kind of books he has," she muttered, flipping the pages and smirking a little a bit at the story of Hades and Persephone. It was fitting, seeing as how she had been kidnapped by a man associated with death. Her mind whirled thinking about how Persephone didn't really escape, about how she was trapped her in much the same way. How long? That was the question that was starting to bug her. How long until they used her as planned? Maybe then she could escape? They'd have to take her out of this house for that, wouldn't they? Maybe to Malfoy Manor, that's where he was, and they'd want to bring Harry straight to him, without a chance of him getting away. If they brought her there, could she escape, steal someone's wand maybe? She hadn't even seen Antonin's wand. He did everything with the wave of his hand it seemed. She knew it was because he'd set up the spells in advance, he was cunning, planning, calculating, and... for a moment the word kind came to her mind.
"He had you kidnapped," she reminded herself. "Just because he's not torturing you doesn't mean he's kind," she added, wondering what in the world would possess her mind to think such a thing. It was getting late, she could tell even without a window. Putting the book aside, she pulled the quilt over herself and fell asleep.
"You're taking too long! We need to get him sooner than later and you're lollygagging about doing this!"
"It's not the right time yet," Antonin stated. Thorfinn had shown up just as he'd been making breakfast for himself and Hermione.
"And what's this, feeding her? Have you gone soft Tony?"
"Quit calling me 'Tony', you know I didn't like it in school and I don't like it now."
"You're going soft, feeding her like she's a person."
"She is a person, Thorfinn," Antonin sighed. He had never completely believed the ideology that muggle-borns were lesser. Hermione was certainly proving that maybe the whole thing was wrong.
"I don't have time for this, you always were too soft, Antonin. That girl at school, and now this?" Thorfinn stated, pushing past Antonin and yanking open the door of Hermione's room. She was on the bed, reading. She looked up and screamed seeing Thorfinn charging at her. Nimbly she somersaulted off the bed and started crawling to the door. Antonin had caught up and grabbed her arm, running her down the hallway. Thorfinn's footsteps followed them.
"Stay in here, you'll be safe, Poppet," Antonin said, opening an unassuming wooden door and shoving Hermione inside. She heard it lock and sank to her knees on the white and grey swirled granite floor. The room was silent. She couldn't hear what they were saying outside. Taking a deep breath to sturdy herself, she rose to her feet and looked around. Hermione gasped at the rows of shelves on either side of a large open space in the middle of the room. The room was huge, larger than possible for the house. Slowly she walked further in, knowing she could hide among the shelves if need be. Her awe didn't stop as she walked. Each shelf contained more books than she'd ever dreamed of. There were more books here than at the Hogwarts library, than the library in Grimmauld Place, more books than she could ever read in a lifetime. As she walked, it seemed like more shelves just kept appearing. The room seemed infinite. She finally sat down on the floor behind one of the shelves, peeking out and watching the door. What was happening out there? Was Antonin alright? It was his house, he surely had some advantage, didn't he? She debated leaving to see if she could help. Yes, he was a Death Eater, yes, he'd had her kidnapped, but then again... he had been taking decent care of her.
"He told you to stay," she reminded herself, remaining where she was sitting. Hermione wasn't sure how long she sat, her feet going numb causing her to stand and stretch her legs. Part of her wanted to grab something and start reading, but what if Thorfinn came, she wasn't about to be caught unaware again. Finally she heard the doorknob turning. She darted back to her hiding place, watching as the door opened and Antonin stepped inside. Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. Antonin stood there for a moment, looking around. His bottom lip was cut, there was dried blood down his chin. Hermione slowly rose to her feet, wanting to run to him.
"Poppet?" he called, his voice trembling. Hermione flew from her hiding place and threw her arms around him.
"You're alright?" she asked.
"Fine. Thorfinn, he's not going to be a problem again," he stated. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
"No, Poppet, I did not kill him. He is stunned and bound. I thought... at one point, I considered him a friend. It is clear now that him and I have very different ideas about somethings."
"What is this room?' Hermione finally asked. "It's obviously a library, but it...it seems like more."
"It is both, this is my library, Poppet. I have worked for years to collect many of these tomes. Some were inherited from my family, from other places."
"An extension charm?"
"Not quite," Antonin laughed softly. Hermione realized she was still hugging him and quickly dropped her arms to her sides, her cheeks flushing slightly. "It is a spell of my own creation, that was one of my focuses in school, spell creation. Durmstrang was good for that, especially if one wanted to learn to create dark spells."
"Like the one you used in the ministry."
"Yes, like that one. This one, however, is not dark at its core. It's a linking spell, linking the tiny library that fits in this house to the one in my manor."
"Of course you have a manor," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. It did seem like every Death Eater was rich, or came from some sort of old money, maybe that was part of Lord Voldemort's plan, to use all their riches to fund is ideals without having to spend a sickle of his own.
"It's much more magnificent than this place, but I have not been there in years. Now, back to what I was saying. I can also link this library to any library that I have access to," he added, his eyes sparkling as he watched Hermione's mouth drop open.
"Any library, say the one in Malfoy Manor?" she asked.
"If Lucius were to grant me access and allow me past the wards, then yes," he stated.
"And you could put this charm on any library to link it?"
"I could, Poppet, why do you have something in mind?"
"It's nothing," Hermione quickly stated, looking away. If Antonin's charm could really link libraries, could allow him access to places without anyone knowing.
"You're wondering if I could use this to defeat him, aren't you? Or are you simply planning on escaping?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I very much would, but it wouldn't work that way. I would be able to access the library of these places, but not the rest of the building unfortunately."
"But couldn't you alter the spell?"
"I have tried, Poppet, but if I alter it too much it does become quite unstable and completely unusable by living creatures. I learned that the hard way."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, biting her lip. She realized she meant it, that she really was sorry Antonin had to suffer in any aspect.
"It was a time ago. Look, Poppet, I need to figure out what to do about Thorfinn. If I release him, it wouldn't bode well for either of us, he's claiming I've gone soft."
"And have you?"
"Possibly, for you, possibly."
"What if you used him?" she suggested.
"Used him for what?"
"Leverage. He knows things, things that the Order would love to know. Turn him in, a good faith gesture to the Order?"
"And why would I want anything to do with the Order, as if they wouldn't kill me on sight."
"Not if I were with you," Hermione said softly, reaching up and wiping some of the blood from Antonin's face.
"Poppet? You'd do that for me, vouch for me?"
"I know I should, I should hate you. You did kidnap me, plan to use me, but you're not going through with that, are you? That's what Thorfinn and you fought about?"
"It is, there is no way I could do that to you now. I was a fool, I am a proud man, Poppet, but I am admitting I was wrong about this, about you. You are right, my lord would probably kill the moment he had the chance. I do not see him caring about how I feel about that, about my wishes. I should have seen that before, but I was blinded by the promise of a future that now can not come to fruition."
"Then you'll join the Order?"
"I can not, I will not serve another master, nor will I be part of a group where decisions are made for me. I will join you, be at your side in this war if you'll have me?"
"I will," Hermione whispered, looking at the man before her. She'd only ever seen him evil, a Death Eater, never before had she realized he was a person, same as herself. "I will," she repeated, taking a deep breath before planting her lips against his in a kiss that seemed to last forever and end too quickly.
"We should bring Thorfinn in, meet back up with Harry and Ron, I'm sure they're going mental worrying about me."
"I am sure they are. Come along, Poppet, let's get you back to your friends and Thorfinn to the correct people. Then, what though?"
"Then I come to you, once Harry and Ron realize I'm alright. Then I come back to you, through the library perhaps, I really didn't get to see much of since I was kind of hiding in terror," she said, a smile crossing her face. Antonin kissed her again, before nodding.
"I will see you then, Poppet," he promised, releasing the wards that kept her in his home. She apparated out, leaving him to clean up the mess Thorfinn had left. He grabbed his former friend, apparated him to the auror's office. He knew it hadn't been compromised. Leaving him there bound and gagged, he returned home to find Hermione sitting in a leather cushioned oak wood chair, her fingers flipping through a book. She looked up and smiled at him.
"I told you I'd come back."
"That you did, Poppet, now, shall we plan to the downfall of my former master together?" he asked, taking a seat next to her. She nodded, as he summoned several volumes of books she'd never heard of, all dealing with the darkest of magicks.
"Ever heard of horacruxes?" she asked.
"I have, that is what we are dealing with?"
"It is, we need to destroy the rest of them before we can end this war."
"Let's get started then," he said, his face lightning up at the idea of working with Hermione, at the idea of her and him together. She reached over and put her hand on his.
"We can win this, and when we do-"
"You'll make sure I don't get kissed by one of those horrid things?"
"I will," she promised, giving him a quick kiss before they both settled into their research, knowing it would take both of them together, and Harry, to win this war once and for all.
