and here you are living

despite it all

- Rupi Kaur

31st December 2014

Jean Granger had been a smart woman and a great mother before she became Monica Wilkins. Only as she aged herself did Hermione realise some of the wisdom her mum had passed onto her before she no longer knew she had a daughter. One of the things that Hermione remembered shifting her perspective when she came back from Hogwarts for her Christmas break, still struggling with fitting into the Magical world, was the saying; ' everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. And everything we see is a perspective, not the truth '.

She'd applied that lesson to her everyday life, especially in the past few years. Whatever healers said was an opinion, not a fact. Magic was unpredictable and whatever they tried or suggested was just that, a suggestion or an opinion that didn't define her experience. The pity in people's eyes and the impact of seeing a war heroine with actual physical damage were still very visible every time she walked through the halls of the Ministry. They saw it as weakness, but that was their perspective, not her truth.

She walked with her head held high because she had nothing to be ashamed of. Her name was Hermione Granger. She was a war heroine, Order of Merlin First Class, muggleborn witch, but most of all, she was a wife, she hoped a good friend, and despite pain being a part of her daily existence, she was still herself. And when she wavered, he was there to remind her of who she was.


Thump. Step.

Thump. Step.

Thump. Step.

The rhythmic sound of the ornate cane announced her arrival and Antonin smiled at the festively set table, heading out of the kitchen to greet her after a day spent with the Minister despite it being New Years Eve. They wouldn't be joining the celebrations outside, but he looked forward to their quiet night in with dinner and maybe watching the fireworks in bed. He rounded the corner and leaned against the doorway with a smile which grew worried when she leaned the ornate cane in its spot in the corner by the door, and picked up the very simple wooden cane she used at home on tough days.

His wife lived her life on a spectrum of good days, and days she didn't wish on his worst enemies.

Well, most people wouldn't wish them on another. He wouldn't blink an eye if this cursed existence befell the Lestrange brothers. If that failed, he could always get creative with some of the dark curses his arsehole of a father taught him. Alas, they were sitting in Azkaban, dry, warm, and semi-sane, and out of his reach. So instead of seeking vengeance, he focused on his beloved. For now. Antonin Dolohov never forgets his foes and if the opportunity arises they will be dead.

The good days were the best days, because her face relaxed, the tightness around her eyes and her smile, if she mustered one, was gone. For a few hours she glowed with magic and he adored making her feel invincible, taking the world on with him. The tough days were more difficult to navigate as they were a spectrum of their own, from mild to bordering on constant pain and truly exhausting. And then there were the bad days. Bad days meant she didn't leave the bed, looking so small and exhausted in the cloud of duvets and blankets as she cursed her body with silent tears or agonised cries.

They'd been on all of two dates before the pain became part of her, and he hated seeing her suffering. But despite all the research he'd done in their first year of living together, there was nothing else to do, no cure, no spell he could cast to make it all better. So he did what any person would do for the one who held their soul. He loved her, he cared for her, and took joy in being part of her journey.

Today started out fairly good. She was a little tender when they woke up but as she got ready to see Kingsley, she was smiling and kissed him playfully before leaving through the floo. But he could see her tight posture now, the way she gripped the cane and used it to move around their home. It has clearly been a long day.

" Krasivaya ," he moved to meet her before she walked too far and wrapped a gentle arm around her waist to take her weight for a moment.

"Toñko," she sighed and leaned into him, letting herself soak in his warmth, and breathe in the smell of pine, warm forest honey, and just a hint of gunpowder that was the scent she associated with his deep grey magic. She pulled back to cup his cheek, her thumb running over the short dark beard he kept these days, smiling at the few salt-white patches coming through.

"I thought you would like to relax before dinner, so I drew you a bath. It's all ready for you," he kissed her forehead and offered her his hand in case she needed help getting there.

She smiled but shook her head, and headed for their bedroom and en-suite with the help of the cane instead. "Thank you. I'll just eat a little bit later, go ahead if you're hungry," she called over her shoulder and the door to the bedroom closed nearly all the way, never completely shutting him out but letting him know she needed some time to herself.

He looked back at the set up dinner table and decided that maybe a quick change of plans was in order.


She sat on the edge of the bed, stretching her leg out before her tiredly. It has been a long day and her body was making her feel it today. The days when she resented every twinge of pain were long gone, but that didn't mean she wasn't exhausted from the hard chairs and stiff conversations all day. She had hoped for a good day, and it felt like one this morning, but as the arm on her watch moved closer to dinner, she felt her leg and hip protesting its treatment. She took a deep breath and slipped out of her flats before using her wand to undress and send all the clothing into the laundry basket.

Magic had so many avantages, she could only imagine the struggles of their muggle counterparts, trying to navigate life of chronic pain without the ability to lessen the impact of some tasks with a simple spell. It was a simple thing, to get dressed and undressed, or at least it was for most people. When the pain was zapping her magic in the early days, even that had been a chore that left her exhausted.

She stood up and headed for the bathroom, pausing when she noticed her reflection in the tall mirror on the open wardrobe door. For many, the scars of war had been a curiosity, a physical reflection of her war survival. For the couple of partners she dated since the war, they were a blemish, and the familiar twist of the lips at the sight of her scars, large and small, dented her confidence day in and day out. She was so used to seeing them now it barely phased her, but there was a time when she cried herself to sleep at the sight of the long dark purple flame bisecting her torso, and the constellations of little cuts and scrapes that scarred her dark skin. It took a long time to come to terms with her body, and work on the way she saw herself.

She could still recall the way Antonin had paused and stared at the large scar with his intense gaze for long moments, before kissing it reverently when they were first intimate.

The spell he sent her way was actually meant for Yaxley, a man of deplorable taste who preferred his witches very much on the young side, who had been creeping up on her with an ugly glint in his eyes. Some Death Eaters didn't respect the early days of the Code, and while she accepted her husband had done deplorable things, he had never broken the code, never needlessly harmed a woman or a child, and never ever committed the most vile acts such as rape. Yaxley though had had no such reservation, and though they had been on opposite sides of the divide, Antonin would not let the vile man touch a young girl if he could help it, no matter her blood status.

But she stepped in his way, silenced the casting and the curse morphed as it cut her chest in half, and left her in recovery for long weeks. It was a clever spell, the purple fire. Under normal circumstances it caused instant death and left no trace behind, no scar, no indication of just how the person died. Her scar was just one example of the unpredictability of magic. And she knew him well enough that when he kissed the scar reverently with the softest apology on his lips, he was equally fascinated by her magic managing to connect with his to morph the curse, and remorseful for her pain.

She leaned on her cane a bit more firmly as she turned slightly, taking in the intricate dark webbing over her right hip, cheek and soft belly. It had been a result of an ambush five years ago. She'd grown complacent, enjoying her life with friends and family, celebrating turning thirty and finally admitting to herself that she's in love with the mercurial man, then her colleague in the Special division of the Unspeakables and now her husband. On the way in between pubs with Ginny and Luna, she was ambushed by the Lestrange brothers and though the Aurors were called and she was managing to hold her own, they cast the blasting curse in tandem and it shattered her protective shield, landing with unerring precision on her hip, blasting her backwards into a brick wall.

She didn't see what happened but when Ginny retold the events, she always stuttered over the bit where Antonin appeared as if summoned by fates themselves, with murderous glint in his eyes and battled the Lestranges fiercely until they were apprehended. As she heard it, he would have killed them on the spot if he didn't catch sight of her crumpled form and rushed to preserve her life before transporting her to Mungo's.

They tried their best, she knew, but the complicated fracture of her femur gave them trouble to regrow, not to mention the fact that her pelvis was practically shattered and impacted her joints in the area. Even healing magic had its limit. She would never know a day without pain, she would never bear children, and she would always be thus. Scarred and tired of the bad days.

Her chin dipped before she took a deep breath and raised it again, looking at herself unflinchingly. Yes, she was in pain but she was alive. Some days she wished she wasn't, but today she was glad to be alive and have the home she did, and the care of the man who worshiped and challenged her in equal measure. And though she didn't always feel beautiful, she was just that in his eyes every time he looked at her. And on the bad days, that was enough for her.

Limping over to her vanity, she unlocked the small cabinet which held her strongest pain potions and took a small measure, just to take the edge off so she could still go ahead with the rest of her evening plans. The bath that awaited her was steaming and shimmered with a mixture of salt, peppermint, fennel, fir needle, sweet birch to ease achy muscles and yarrow milk to soothe and calm her tired body. It was a mixture Antonin made for her based on his babushka's recipe, and she swore by it several times a week.

She piled up her curls atop her head with a clip and set her cane aside, slipping carefully into the bathtub, feeling the supportive caress of the wards and charms around it. If she wasn't able to recognise his magical signature, she would still have known it was his work. The way the Russian wizard wielded magic was beyond creative, whether dark or light. For him, there was only the magical fabric and the many ways he could use his intent to shape it. So spells that would normally suspend someone by the ankle were instead amended to support her in the event that she slipped, suspending her above ground until she was able to carefully sit up and support herself.

They'd been in place ever since the day she returned from Mungo's. She was still living by herself in the house then and she didn't even bother asking how he got in. If Azkaban couldn't contain him, resulting in the Ministry recruiting him to put him to good use instead, there was no way her wards would keep him out. Antonin had everything set up for her, including an emergency call button, protective wards and anti-slip charms on the bathtub and shower, and even a little charm she discovered while walking small laps in the garden no matter the weather, protected from the elements with the gentle caress of his magical weather shields.

They'd worked together for a couple of years before she finally agreed to go on a date with him. And she was smitten despite her earlier reservations towards the reformed Death Eater. He was brilliant, sarcastic, intriguing and beyond gorgeous. In hindsight, she never stood a chance. But they'd barely begun dating when the attack happened and her life was turned upside down. She never expected him to stick around or to be there for the worst of days. Instead, he moved in with her nearly straight away and never left her side. She counted her blessings every day.

The hot water was soothing on her skin and she pulled her knees up carefully with a soft grimace at the bend, resting her cheek on the knees as she breathed through the twinges. A minute or two more and the potion will kick in, she just had to breathe through it.

"Lacewing flies, to twine and bind together the self and the other… Leeches, to suck the essence from self to the other… Bicorn horn and knotgrass, to reflect the duality in a single body bonded together… Fluxweed, the mutability of my body as it temporarily changes into another… Boomslang skin, to represent shedding of an outer body while preserving the inner world…" she listed, breathing slowly as the pine and salt soothed her whirlwind mind and pained body. "And-"

"A little bit of the person you wish to change into," Antonin finished for her, familiar with her routine of listing the ingredients for Polyjuice potion and the steps to prepare it while she waited for the pain to lessen. She could probably brew on in her sleep, having managed such an intricate brew at the age of twelve. "Tell me milaya , are you contemplating changing to someone else now? Because I came to have dinner with you," he teased, the wooden board floating beside him effortlessly as he pulled a stool beside the bathtub and stretched his long legs before him to get comfortable.

It was what they did on quiet cosy nights in, just the two of them in the bathroom as she soaked her tired body and he read to her or helped her clean up on the worst days.

"I hope you're hungry?" he asked.

She nodded but her smile stretched at the sight of his tattooed fingers prying apart the tender chicken meat for her. "Starving…" she whispered, her amber gaze sparkling as he raised a dark brow at her husky tone.

His gaze trailed her beautiful dark golden skin, the goosebumps along her shoulders, the hard peaks of her nipples and fullness of her breasts, the desire reflective in her amber eyes. He adored her like this, playful despite the long day she'd had. He was good at math and judging by the signs and the date, his beautiful wife was ovulating. That would explain her hunger, both actual and figurative.

"Then I have dinner for you, krasivaya ," he chuckled darkly and pressed a piece of the tender meat to her lips.

Hermione took it between her teeth and moved her lips over his fingers, sucking on his somewhat greasy thumb suggestively. She watched his piercing grey gaze darken with heat and nipped the digit before retreating to chew her mouthful and lean back against the bathtub. When her leg and hip stretched out before her, she noted with a sigh of relief that the pain was down to an occasional stiff dull twinge, still there but manageable for her to have her husband tonight. Their sex life was never boring but sometimes it was more sparse than she liked, due to the need for pain management. That didn't mean they didn't get creative when they could, a quality the dark man before her had in spades.

"I don't think dinner will fill me," she admitted before accepting a piece of roasted carrot, chewing slowly and humming at the herbaceous buttery flavour.

"Is that so?" he asked, gaze flicking to her hand which picked up the sponge, lathered it up with her delicious bergamot soap, and began running it over her skin, leaving it covered in suds and fragrant little soap bubbles. "And what would fill you, milaya ?"

She crooked her finger at him, silently asking him to come closer as she leaned back against the bathtub. He set the board down and dipped his hand in the fragrant water, washing the food residue from his touch before his fingers slid up her calf tenderly, feeling the slightly tight muscle, tired after the long day.

He inclined his head but she only smiled and reached up to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the skin above the edge of the short beard. And he knew she was well enough, this was her choice, this is what she needed, and he would be a fool to deny her. She dropped the sponge and leaned up to kiss him, a flutter of a kiss, barely there, as she took his hand and pressed it against her mound.

He could only feel the hot water of the bath for a moment before his fingers slid through her folds and he felt the slick of her arousal coating his digits with her eagerness. He swiveled up to tease her hooded clit, running his finger along the side and the top of it, stimulating her gently just as she liked to start with.

"Is my kotenok eager?" he hummed as his touch caressed back down to her quivering opening and pressed inside with one long digital without hesitation.

She arched beneath his touch, hand tightening in his thick hair as she tried to hold onto something to ground her. She nodded in response to his question, biting his lip until he kissed her properly, his tongue thrusting past her lips to claim her mouth for himself. Her responding moan was sweet as ambrosia as he felt the flush rising on her skin from his ministrations.

Her hand reached down to twine with his as he continued to gently thrust one of his fingers inside her, but slowed at her urging, feeling her twist his hand sideways for a moment. He pulled back from her lips to watch her with a curious gaze before she pressed on his ring finger, pushing it further below until it circled the tight rosette already pulsing with need beneath as well.

Having caught onto her desire, this only confirmed their path for the evening but his lips stretched into a grin she could only describe as devious. "You want me here as well?" he asked as he pressed lightly on the puckered opening, never breaching, only stimulating enough to have her hips squirming against his touch.

She nodded eagerly and clung onto him, breathing erratically now that he was finally touching where she needed him. Her disappointed groan a moment later however cut through the otherwise hushed atmosphere in their bathroom as his touch withdrew completely, his hand caressing her inner thigh sensually instead.

"Use your words, milaya . I will give you anything you ask for but you must ask for it," he reminded, his voice honey on gravel and thick Slavic accent only making her all the more eager to have his touch agai.

Despite the five years they've been together and explored each other's desires, she still sometimes found it difficult to get over the barrier of verbalising her need. But not tonight. Tonight she wanted to feel him, forget completely about her long day and the pain, to be thoroughly taken by this incredible man.

"I want you to fill me…every hole," she whispered against his lips but he heard her loud and clear, groaning at the admission spoken so brazenly.

He claimed her lips as he sent the food back to the kitchen under statis and vanished his own clothing without the need for his wand. She eyes his beautiful body, tight with the constant workout of helping her on the bad days, tattoos and scars littering his pale skin. It was her favorite map, and she longed to bury her fingers into the patch of dark hair on his chest. His arms reached down to hook beneath her knees and he pulled her out of the bath, uncaring for the water sloshing around them at the sudden movement. Another murmured spell had the tub empty and the both of them dried off as he walked them to their bedroom, setting her down on the semi-firm mattress with utmost care.

"Get comfortable," he instructed with a quick kiss to her forehead as he headed for their wardrobe which had a hidden compartment in it for a few essentials for their pleasure.

Hermione shifted around a little, knowing her hip would struggle with being too wide open or being scrunched up for any position on her back. Instead she turned to lay down on her stomach, her right leg stretched out comfortably, nice and stable for any pleasure, and her left knee bending up, eagerly opening herself up for her husband's view and access.

Judging by the soft groan of approval from the foot of the bed, she succeeded. The mattress shifted and she felt him straddle her stretched out leg, careful not to press his weight into it as his hands caressed her soft skin. He squeezed her cheeks roughly for a moment, pulling them apart to expose all of her to his gaze, making her gasp at the stretch on her tender skin. But he soothed the flesh shortly with a caress, leaning down to nip the generous curve of her good hip before trailing a path up to her shoulder, kissing her neck reverently as he breathed her in.

"Comfortable?" he checked in as he licked a trail up her spine to her neck, making her shudder at the dark tone and ministrations that were only making her more slick with anticipation.

"Yes…" she confirmed, her hand reaching back to caress the top of his head where she could reach. "Please, I need to feel you…"

The sound of her sweet begging and the trust in her eyes and posture was a balm for his darkened soul as he kissed her shoulder once more before sitting back again and admiring her beautiful soft curves, the constellations of scars on her soft skin and her flushed dewy sex that was calling to him. He pushed back to better lean down and access her sweet arousal, pressing his tongue flat against her beaded clit and licking her firmly all the way past her quivering quim to jab against the clenching opening between her cheeks. She was exquisite, he adored the taste of her and his tongue plunged inside her moist heat for long moments, enjoying the desperate pleas, her fingers reaching back to tangle in his wavy locks to press him closer and to give her more of the pleasure she sought.

His tongue moved up, coated in her slick and unrelenting in its journey, back to the clenching hole, jabbing at the puckered flesh until she pressed her hips back against the onslaught, shuddering under his overwhelming touch. He pulled back, applying a bit of his favourite lubricant onto his finger and pressed it carefully against the clenching hole, pushing gently past the initial resistance before she relaxed into his touch and allowed him to slide in smoothly, stretching her with care but with precision, thrusting the finger in a gentle rhythm. What he had in mind wouldn't require much but he wanted her pliant and just on the edge of it being too much without hurting her.

He pulled out after a few moments of pressing against her sensitive walls, much to her dismay which she whimpered in his direction. He kissed her shapely cheek and nipped the jiggly flesh fondly before reaching for the cool metal plug he'd pulled from their drawer, and made sure it was slicked well before carefully resting it against her barely stretched opening. She hissed at the feel of the cool metal but pressed back against the touch, his cue to press it inside her slowly. She tensed at the widest point and he gave her a moment to breathe through the intrusion with a gentle touch on her back, but she pressed back against it again until it was fully seated, only a pretty red gem glistening back at him from the valley of her perfect arse. He gripped the flesh of both cheeks again and pressed them together before pulling them apart, her sharp gasp followed by a moan as the short stem of the plug rose towards him before once again being swallowed by the eager muscles.

He slid his fingers on either side of the stem under the pretty ruby gem and gently thrust the plug, angling it towards her sensitive walls just as one of his fingers slid into her eager sodden cunt. The whine that rose in her throat was divine as she gripped onto the sheets tightly, trying to ground herself as he caressed the plug with his finger through the thin barrier between her channels.

"Fuck…more, please," she pleaded, needing to feel him deeper, squeezing her muscles around the digit to urge him on.

His hand landed with a light slap on her cheek, making her groan at the soft sting and at the plug being jolted further inside her. "In my own time," he warned as he moved up over her body, nipping at her shoulder playfully to make her arch prettily.

He caught the moment her teeth gritted together momentarily and paused, letting her adjust her position a little beneath him and rotate her hip a little. "Need a top-up?" he asked, wondering whether she needed more pain potion.

She shook her head and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "What I need is your cock inside me," she bit out, only making him grin darkly.

"There's my feisty little l'vitsa ," he hummed and leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. "You will have my cock, but there was one more hole you needed filled," he reminded, seeing her teeth dig into her bottom lip with desire, eyes ardent and brilliant golden with need.

He pulled her lip from beneath the grip of her teeth with his thumb before offering her his fingers. "Get them nice and wet for me so I can stretch your pretty arse with them while I fuck you," he whispered against her ear, biting back a groan of his own as she eagerly took two of his fingers inside her mouth and swirled her tongue around them hungrily.

Adjusting his position above her to not smother her with his weight, he reached down and aligned his desperately hard length with her sodden entrance, pressing in with a single thrust that pulled a garbled moan from her around her mouthful.

"That's it… ty tak krasiva... when you take my cock…feel so perfect, taking me like a good girl…" he panted as he set a firm rhythm for his hips, keeping himself in check at the press of the plug against him inside her and her talented tongue on his fingers. The gush of slick at his words only made him swear under his breath, feeling just how the praise affected her.

She whimpered as he adjusted his angle and pressed against her deep spot, making her arch up into his firm body as much as she could with his firm steadying frip on her good hip to keep her stabilised. She was in fucking heaven, all of her filled until she thought she would burst, her walls already fluttering around him as her body hurtled towards completion fast.

Antonin pulled back and sat up, stilling his hips much to her dismay. She tried to push back against him again but was stilled as another slap landed on her cheek in warning. His fingers were a little more impatient as he pulled out the plug, making her arch as he thrust it in and out quickly at the wide bit to make sure she was stretched well. He watched the stretched opening glistening with lube and pressed the two fingers she slicked for him so well smoothly inside, scissoring them open as his hips started to move once again with short, hard thrusts aiming to make her fly apart.

She scrambled for something to hold onto, the sheets bunching beneath her hold as she pressed back against the incredible pleasure, but he reached for her arm with his free hand and pulled it down to her hip, indicating for her to go ahead and touch herself. "That's it… good girl….touch yourself…I want to see you come for me…."

Hermione sobbed with relief as he gripped her waist firmly to hold her steady and increased his pace, filling her so completely that all it took was two swipes of her fingers over her clit and she was shattering apart like fine china beneath him.

He didn't stop, fucking her through the initial wave before hastily pulling his hips back as he hooked his fingers deep inside her back channel and thrust his hand quickly against her G-spot with a triumphant groan as her cry reached a higher pitch and she came again with a burst of liquid across the sheets and his thighs. " Blyat ..that's it…so fucking perfect…." he groaned, pumping his length until he spilled hotly across her cheeks and throbbing cunt.

Her groans of pleasure turned into a shuddering whine and he stopped immediately, giving her a few moments to shudder through the last of the pleasure before gently withdrawing his fingers as well. Hermione was unable to move, her muscles quivering and body completely pulled apart. It always took a while to pull herself back together but she allowed her body the time to come down from the high of her peak as she shifted with a wince, her hip definitely making her feel her choices.

"Stay still, milaya ," he kissed her lower back as he worked to clean them both up along with the bed and blankets they would be sleeping in.

She felt him sit beside her hip and turned to look at him with hooded eyes, her exhaustion even greater now that she was wrung out so thoroughly.

"I have your salve," he opened the small pot and carefully applied it to soothe her aching hip and helped her roll onto her back and under the blankets, joining her a few moments later as the lights were turned out but for the two candles on their bedside.

He rolled onto his side until Hermione turned to look at him and leaned up to kiss him tenderly, her silent thanks for always being there for her, loving her and taking such good care of her. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, smiling when his arm wrapped around her middle and he held her close, humming a soft Russian lullaby into her hair.

" Ya tozhe lyublyu tebya, moye serdtse ," he whispered as her eyes closed and she allowed her mind to slow with her heartbeat.

And though she was starting to feel the pain returning again, she also felt the sweet ache in her sex, the dull throb of his earlier thrusts inside her, and rejoiced. It was alright to feel broken sometimes, but she wouldn't curse her body despite the pain it caused her. She was still Hermione Granger, she was still a powerful witch, and though she had to rest sometimes, she remained unstoppable, with the support of this incredible man by her side.

It didn't matter that she missed the colourful fireworks announcing the arrival of 2015. Antonin watched them as she slept in his arms, safe in the knowledge they will have many fireworks to experience together yet. in the coming years.

Fin.