A/N: Thanks ever so much for all the love and review, you guys. It's those of you who take the time to enjoy and react to every chapter that really make my day. I love waking up to see all your kind words and all your excitement. Much love! xx-Kitten.
Firewhiskey Nights
By Kittenshift17
Chapter 4
Thorfinn Rowle looked up at the sharp crack of Apparation inside his flat and nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of Antonin Dolohov clutching a half-naked Hermione Granger, her legs wrapped around his torso, her shirt open and her hair mussed.
"Dolohov!" Granger snarled, "This is not what I meant!"
"They can't interrupt us here," Toshka told the witch in a completely reasonable tone as though she were being irrational.
"Toshka?" Thorfinn asked.
"Thorfinn? Oh, I didn't know you'd be home," Antonin grinned at him, "Hermione, say hello to Thorfinn."
"Would you get off me, you crazy Russian bastard?" Granger demanded, slapping at Antonin's arms as he lowered her until her back rested against the back of the couch, "Put me down and desist with the assault, you barbarian."
"That's hardly polite," Toshka frowned at her, "Barbarian seems a little harsh. Were I a barbarian, I wouldn't be bargaining with you about options to see the effects of this while you come, witch. I'd simply make you come and get my answers."
"Toshka, what the fuck are you doing? Do you want to go back to prison?" Thorfinn asked the bastard, getting to his feet and moving towards the pair, concern gnawing at him over the state they were both in and the argument they seemed to be having.
"Of course not. Why would you ask me that?" Toshka frowned at him, "Say hello to Hermione, it's rude not to."
"Granger," Thorfinn nodded at the witch he recalled fucking so deliciously.
"Rowle," she nodded, "A little help? Your friend seems to have gone off the deep end."
"I'm not insane," Toshka assured them both, "Thorfinn, would you be open to the idea of bringing this delightful witch to orgasm while I watch? I want to see if I can remove my magic from her person."
"Your magic… you want me to fuck her for you? What? You're going to end up in prison the minute you let her go!" Thorfinn snarled, snatching hold of the Russian idiot and giving him a shake while he tried to muddle through the confusion the bastard was so good at inducing in others.
"She's not going to file a report against me," Toshka rolled his eyes, self-assured.
"What makes you so sure?" Granger challenged him, looking rather outraged and like she would very much consider pressing charges if he didn't release her.
"The wet spot you're leaving on the front of my trousers, Zaichik," Toshka replied, smirking at the witch, "Don't think I can't feel it. You're protesting because you have a misguided sense of self-consciousness but I know you're more curious than scared right now."
"Seriously?" Thorfinn asked, raising an eyebrow at the witch wondering if it were true that she was, in fact, turned on over being manhandled and essentially assaulted by the Russian.
"He's barmy," Granger assured him.
"I will prove it, little witch," Toshka threatened her, "Do you want me to? Here, Thorfinn stick your hand in her knickers. Tell me they're not soaked."
"Dolohov!" Granger hissed, pulling one of her legs back and kicking the bastard with it.
"I don't know why you're being so disagreeable, Zaichik," Toshka shook his head, barely budging.
Thorfinn tensed when Antonin grabbed his hand and stuck it between his body and Hermione's to press against Granger's knickers which were, in fact, damp. She gasped in indignation but made no other effort to remove Thorfinn's hand from her person or to protest the idea of being touched so intimately.
"I told you," Antonin told him, "This little mouse is entirely too curious for her own good, I'm sure, but I do need to watch her come."
"And you want my help for that?" Thorfinn asked, "Forgotten how to do it yourself because you spend too much time chasing this one instead of fucking girls?"
"She doesn't trust me," Antonin informed him, looking exasperated as though her distrust of a man who'd tried to kill her was a most perplexing conundrum, "And she has moral issues because I tried to kill her that one time. I don't know why. She fucked you even though you tried to kill her during the war too."
"Is he always like this?" Granger asked Thorfinn, eyeing Antonin as though he'd gone mad.
Thorfinn glanced at his friend, "Not always, but it's not uncommon that he gets hyper this way. Were you at work?"
"Yes," Granger nodded, "Arguing with my ex when Dolohov interrupted, put something cursed in his pocket and shoved him out of my office before assaulting me. He seems to think the flames dance because they're part of his magic, attached to mine."
She waved a finger at her open shirt and her bared midriff, not at all looking like she cared that he was seeing her partially clad body. Then again, given the things he'd done to her naked body two weeks earlier, Thorfinn supposed she knew she had nothing to be self-conscious over and logically rationalised that there was little point being embarrassed to have him see her in her bra when he'd been up close and personal with every inch of her.
"Thorfinn, it's remarkable, watch what happens when I do this," Toshka said excitedly before tracing his fingers over Granger's scar.
The witch moaned softly and arched into the touch while the flames climbed from her ribs all the way up her chest to lick at her neck.
"My magic responds to it. When she performs a spell while I touch it, I can feel her magic pulling on mine, right through my hands and out her wand," Toshka told him, his eyes bright with an almost manic gleam in his excitement over his discovery.
"You realise that you're assaulting her, don't you Antonin?" Thorfinn asked him seriously, pulling his hand from Granger's knickers – realising suddenly that he'd been cupping her cunt the whole time and she hadn't protested – to grab his friend by the shoulders and give him another shake.
"I…" Antonin frowned at him for a moment, his thoughts obviously having run away from him in the excitement of his discovery.
He glanced down at Granger, sprawled awkwardly over the back of their couch, eyeing his own hands upon her ribs, her shirt open, her legs around him, her expression exasperated and perhaps a little worried.
"Am I hurting you, Zaichik?" the man asked the little witch, his voice lowering to a soft murmur of concern.
Granger opened her mouth to answer before frowning slightly.
"Not hurting me, no," she admitted truthfully, "Worrying me a little, yes. And the Ministry is likely going to raise an alarm if Ron reports what you did."
"Not if he sticks his hand in his pocket," Toshka disagreed, smirking suddenly.
"Shit. What did you give that prick this time, Toshka?" Thorfinn asked before glancing at Granger, "Did you see what he put in there?"
Granger shook her head.
"It was just a hexed ball that will give him a crippling erection for about six hours and cause him to spend those six hours unable to fantasise about anything other than goats," Toshka waved away their concern.
Thorfinn blinked and he watched the way Granger's lips twitched before she began to giggle at the very idea.
"And if he doesn't put his hand in his pocket before raising the alarm?" Granger asked, giggling.
"He will," Toshka rolled his eyes, "I put it in the pocket where he keeps his wand. And I took his wand."
He pulled the wand he spoke of from his pocket and held it up to show them.
"He'll stick his hand in searching for it and brush the ball. It will be fabulous and he'll forget all about anything else except for the need to find somewhere to go to keep from being spotted with an erection. And when he tries to handle the problems, goat fantasies will kick in," Antonin assured them, "Now, if we could get back to the discussion at hand? I believe that this mark is actually my magic latched onto yours, Zaichik, and I believe that we'll have a better understanding of what about it is preventing you from falling pregnant if you let me see what happens to it when you orgasm."
"Is this how you proposition a witch?" Thorfinn asked his friend, raising one eyebrow.
"I'm not propositioning her. Despite the wet patch she left on my trousers, she's not sold on the idea of letting me bring her off. So I need you to do it."
Toshka glanced up to meet Thorfinn's gaze and Thorfinn could see that he was one hundred percent serious. If he weren't so used to the idiot by now, Thorfinn would likely have punched him and told him to get fucked. However, he'd had a number of years to acclimatise to Antonin Dolohov's oddities and so he could tell that not only was the man serious about his request, he very much wanted Thorfinn to do it, or he wouldn't have asked at all.
Thorfinn glanced at Granger and raised a single eyebrow, doubting she'd let him fuck her just because Dolohov want to watch her come.
"You've done it before," Antonin reminded them both, "And I know for a fact you haven't been laid since, Zaichik. Might do you good to unwind a little. That project about wormholes you've been working on is making you very grouchy."
Thorfinn eyed the curly haired little witch, watching the way she narrowed her eyes on Antonin.
"You know I don't fuck for an audience, Toshka," Thorfinn reminded his friend.
"Ordinarily," Toshka rolled his eyes, "But it's not as though I haven't watched you fuck her before. And it's not as though I haven't watched her fuck her used weasel before too."
"If you've seen her do it, why do you need to see it again?" Thorfinn frowned.
"I didn't get a good look and I didn't know the magic was potentially preventing her from falling pregnant, or that it was actually my magic latched onto hers," Toshka explained as though it all made sense.
"You can't just ask us to fuck on command," Thorfinn sighed.
"You wouldn't have to fuck her. Actually, if you finger her or lick her out it will actually let me get a better view," Antonin told him, looking utterly reasonable and not at all like he was kidding.
"Is he serious?" Hermione asked of Thorfinn, frowning as though she thought it might all be some joke.
"He very rarely makes jokes, Princess," Thorfinn sighed, "And when he does, his sense of humour is so twisted that they usually aren't funny."
"I'm very funny," Toshka disagreed, "You simply don't appreciate my humour because you don't understand the things I'm joking about."
"I'm not having this argument with you again," Thorfinn sighed, not at all in the mood to be told he was too thick for Antonin's humour, "Get off the poor witch. Now."
"I don't want to," Antonin protested, frowning at the idea like he were a petulant child rather than a grown man in his mid-thirties and a powerful wizard to boot.
"And she doesn't want to fuck for your amusement or want to have you touching her, Toshka. Let her go before you land back in your cell in Azkaban," Thorfinn told the bastard, giving him a shove until he was no longer touching the little witch.
Granger sat up and attempted to regain her equilibrium. Thorfinn watched her pull on the hem of her skirt, trying to straighten it. She reached for the two sides of her shirt as though she was planning to button it up again before frowning slightly.
"You alright, Princess?" Thorfinn asked, watching her smooth a hand over her scars and then further down to rest on her flat stomach.
"Um… where's your loo?" she asked, still frowning, her shirt still open.
"Down the hall, first door on the left," Thorfinn told her, also frowning and feeling a prickle of concern for the witch that he wasn't sure he liked.
She nodded, walking off in that direction. Thorfinn watched her go, noting idly that she was barefoot. The skirt she wore hugged her arse in a most becoming way and he found himself thinking fondly of the time he'd spent licking parts of her. Despite having been assaulted by Toshka, she still walked with dignity. Her hair was falling out of the bun she'd pulled it into and her blouse hung open, but she didn't seem concerned by those things.
"Where are her shoes?" Thorfinn asked, glancing at Toshka and finding the wizard watching her leave the room with intrigue in his eyes again.
"In her office. She kicked them off before I showed up."
"You are aware that you just assaulted her, yeah?" Thorfinn asked him seriously.
In reply, Antonin pointed to the front of his trousers. Thorfinn could tell he was hard, though the wet spot she'd left on his clothing was obviously what he was meant to be seeing.
"You snatched her from her work and dragged her home with you, Toshka. I know you're obsessed with her and you're excited over the discovery, but this isn't ok. She's probably in there sobbing and fearing for her life. She's afraid of you," Thorfinn chastised.
"She is not," Antonin rolled his eyes, "She hasn't been afraid of me since she realised I had no intention of raping her whenever I break into her house."
"You can't just grab the witch and drag her wherever you want, Antonin. You can't grab her, period. She's not a doll or a toy, you bloody sod, she's a witch! A powerful one who will fuck you up if you mess with her."
"You should check on her," Antonin told him, frowning slightly, "She didn't shut the door. She's not in there because she needs the toilet."
Thorfinn shook his head, wondering how big a betrayal it would be considered if he had his best friend and flatmate admitted to St. Mungo's to have his head examined. He seemed to be coming slightly unhinged in regard to that little witch. He opened his mouth to tell the bastard that he wasn't going to barge in on the witch when she obviously wanted privacy right at that moment. Before he could speak, Antonin held up his hand.
"She's not going to appreciate it if I go in there," he said quietly, "I know I unsettle her. I'll continue to do so. And she's upset about something right now. When she gets upset, she gets dangerous."
"Dangerous in what way?" Thorfinn frowned.
"In a way that means she overthinks everything and does something stupid. I'll bet her mind has just caught up with the fact that the Weasel called her a sloppy whore and fought with her about fucking you and her infertility issues," Antonin told him quietly.
"And you think I'm equipped to handle that shit?" Thorfinn raised one eyebrow.
"No, but I can't go in there. She'll hex me."
"She'll probably hex me too," Thorfinn sighed.
"She'll probably fuck you again if you distract her by kissing her neck. It always works when she's stressed out."
"Which you know…. How?" Thorfinn wanted to know, knowing for a fact that Antonin had never laid a finger on her in that manner until today.
"Seen her react to it. Weasel used to try it, but she always swatted him away. When Potter does it, she listens."
"I wasn't aware she and Potter were fucking," Thorfinn frowned, feeling a prickle of what felt alarmingly like jealousy.
"They're not," Antonin shook his head, "But he does it when she's stressing and she stops thinking for a little while. If you do it, she'll fuck you."
"Why?" Thorfinn asked.
"She fucked you before," Antonin shrugged, "And she moaned your name the last time she finger-fucked herself."
Thorfinn smirked to hear that before it occurred to him that the assertion meant Antonin had been stalking her more obsessively. He knew for a fact that the witch had moved again and had made herself Secret Keeper of her own house to keep Toshka out of her place.
"How did you get into her house?"
"Please, I'm the best Curse Breaker alive," Antonin rolled his eyes, "A Fidelius Charm can't keep me out. I can dismantle it in about an hour. That, and she had to write the address down for Potter because he's forgetful. He left it in his desk at his office."
"You broke into the office of the Head Auror?" Thorfinn demanded.
"What? You think that's bad form?" Antonin asked curiously, "They'd really benefit from hiring me, actually. The security at the Ministry is atrocious. I mean, if that lot could break in as teenagers, it's bad. But the Head Auror should have better security on his office. I've begun sending him gifts from the evidence room that's supposed to be secure so he'll realise there's an issue."
Thorfinn wondered if the bastard was aware that he was psychotic.
"Go and check on her, please," Toshka said quietly, "And try to seduce her. I want to see those flames dance when she comes. I don't think she's infertile and while the spell I used wouldn't prevent pregnancy, my magic being latched to hers might be causing the problem."
"You think you might be the only one who can knock her up?" Thorfinn asked, another prickle of jealousy niggling him over the very idea.
Antonin shook his head slowly, "No, I think my magic prevents it from occurring unless she's fucking someone I approve of."
"What?" Thorfinn frowned.
"She's got my magic in her, and I think it's been protecting her from anything harmful that might happen to her. She survived my curse. She didn't go insane under Bella's torture and she didn't bleed out when Bella cut her with that cursed blade the bitch always liked to used when torturing muggles and mudbloods. She also didn't fall pregnant to Weasel, either. And I think my abiding hatred of both of them and my fascination with her is the reason," Antonin shrugged his shoulders and glanced up to meet his gaze for a moment, "It's something of a concern because I don't hate you or wish you ill. I rather approve of the idea of you and the little mouse, actually. And you need an heir. Could be that if my magic is preventing things I don't want from happening to her, then there's every chance that you could knock her up."
"If that were the case, wouldn't she already be pregnant?" Thorfinn asked him, "I fucked enough of my spunk into that witch to drown a small child two weeks ago. If she could get pregnant, she would be."
Antonin smirked at him wickedly for a moment.
"Who says she isn't?"
