TWENTY-FIVE

"Yours," he went on to clarify, "is the only blood I've had since crossing the border into Lviv and being struck by this curse."

Hermione had no idea about how to feel at his words. Dolohov, for his part, seemed content to give her the time she needed to have this clearly very necessary conversation with herself as he merely continued holding her gaze. Watching her expression, waiting for it to change from dumbstruck to … anything else, she thought.

Though he knew she might view it as unnecessary babbling—and sensing that she still had many more questions—Antonin recognized that this was probably the only time he'd get to ask something he'd been wondering.

"All right," he started, clearing his throat in an uncharacteristically awkward manner. He tried to ignore how it bothered him that she was so stunned. "While you work on that, I've to say I feel this conversation would be benefited by you telling me what you're doing here."

"In Lviv or in this cemetery?" she echoed his earlier question, seemingly without notice, in a lifeless tone.

His lips twitched as he held back a laugh. "Let's start with the first one, since I'm rather sure you're in the cemetery because you wished to confront the vile fiend who took your blood?"

The witch in his lap blinked a few times, her eyes slowly receding to their normal size, and her mouth working to form words without much success as she shrugged. "Well … yes." Though even as she agreed, she found herself wondering if she'd have put it quite that way herself now—which was ridiculous. He was still a murdering Death Eater … who'd somehow restrained himself from drinking blood until last night when he must know he had the power and the ability to take from whomever he wanted.

Oh God, she was so confused!

Shaking her head, she concentrated on his question. Anything to get her mind off her suddenly, uncomfortably muddied emotions. "I … I'm on mission from the Ministry, they want me to find The Book of Veles."

Dark eyes narrowing sharply, he shook his head right back at her. "The Book of Veles? Wasn't that some Muggle rubbish?" A supposed supernatural tome that didn't actually exist.

"No, um …. Well, yes, but not precisely."

"Cleared that up nicely, thank you."

She sighed, her frame drooping. "Stop the sass. What I mean is the Book that was uncovered and eventually lost again in the mid-1900s was Muggle rubbish, but that's precisely it. The Ministry has reason to believe a real book exists and that the version of it that was found and subsequently lost all those decades ago was an intentionally created forgery in order to dissuade Muggle interest in such a find." Despite her state when she'd began this part of her answer, the very fact that she was speaking of history and lost texts had affected her, so that by the time she finished, her voice was spilling out in a breathy, exited tumble.

Antonin felt his spine stiffen as he watched her expression light up. The way her exhalations tickled against his skin, the sound of her rushing pulse beating at him, the enthusiasm in her chestnut eyes. She was … adorable … warm … tempting … good enough to eat. In more ways than one, as he was already well aware.

With another clearing of his throat, he gave himself a shake and forced his mind to focus on the information she'd just furnished him. "So, you're telling me an ancient text on the Slavic old gods and magics actually does exist?"

"The intel would seem to indicate," she said with a nod. "The Ministry is so certain, in fact, that this is the second time since the forgery vanished that they've sent someone to search for the real thing."

Everything came together very immediately and clearly in his mind. "You … that book …." Fate. "You might really be the thing that breaks my curse!"

Hermione never expected the way he caught her face between his hands, his lips crashing down over hers.