A/n: I'm not even sure how many day's it's been, so I'm sorry. The best I can tell you is that since the last chapter I stopped working (by choice) but I didn't anticipate how hard leaving would be. I'm a nanny and I've watched my little nanny kid since he was 2 months old and he's over 3 now. So I've been dealing with a bit of depression. I suffer from depression, anxiety and PTSD, so sometimes life and my self-care takes over. I do apologize dear readers, I love you but self-care is a must. If you don't know what self-care is, please message me!

Anyways, chapter 4 is being written, so never fear.

Beta love to kanewolfe and gidgetmalfoy. If I missed a translation at the bottom please PM me!

As always your reviews are the currency for my work and the time spent by me writing, so please show your love!

Hermione picked at the blueberry muffin on the table in front of her, unable to find her appetite. Her foot tapped a quick rhythm against the leg of the chair that she sat at in the small tea shop just outside of Diagon Alley. It was a common practice of hers to venture into the muggle shops within a few blocks of Diagon Alley, and enjoy her culture. There she wasn't Hermione Granger, War-Heroin. Outside of Diagon Alley, she was just Girl-with-Shopping-Problem.

After the war ended, the Ministry enacted several pieces of legislation, one of which was to gift every member of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army a small bit of money. For Hermione it was blood money, money that was hard bought with many lives. But for some, it allowed them to pick up the fragmented pieces of what they the war had left them. Hermione was the latter. After the war was over and her parents memory charm was successfully undone, she still had to make her way in the Wizarding World. While her parents had to attempt to pick up the pieces of a life they once had but had disappeared from. Hermione took the money, helping her parents as much as they would allow, and with the remaining bought her tiny loft above Obscurus Books. Now, with no mortgage to pay, she shamelessly spent her decent ministry income on shopping. Her bookshelves were overcrowded and she had lost count of the number of times that she had expanded her closet.

She was about to give her breakfast up as a lost cause when a thought occurred to her. Hermione wrapped her muffin back up, and headed back to the counter. Once she had her new order, she walked quickly back through the Leaky Cauldron, and to Diagon Alley's Apparation point.

She turned on the spot and laid her eyes on the beautiful seaside cottage. As she neared the door, her steps faltered. Why had she thought to come here, and with breakfast no less? She shook the thought from her head, her curls falling from her bun. She was just worried about him. He was very sick and needed her to check on him, plus this saved him the energy of feeding himself.

Hermione raised her hand and knocked twice. Listening carefully, she didn't hear any response to her knock or movement within. Waiting a minute, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Still no movement. Sighing heavily, she tried the knob. It opened for her and she pushed it open. Peeking inside, she was relieved to see the room empty.

"Mr. Dolohov?" she called to the house, hoping her voice would carry upstairs. As she took two steps inside the house, she heard a loud thud, followed by a quick yell, before she finally heard footsteps thundering down the hall towards the stairs.

Hermione stepped back towards the open door. When she caught sight of Antonin Dolohov her breath caught in her throat.

Antonin came running down the stairs, dressed only in grey pyjama bottoms, his chest completely exposed and his clean hair falling about his face. His eyes widened as he saw the witch, before he realised his state of undress. Pulling his new wand from his pocket, he summoned a plain white shirt and quickly pulled it on. As he took the last two steps, he noticed the redness that covered her cheeks. The sight brought a small smile to his lips, before he quickly schooled his features once again.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Dolohov. I knocked, it's just I...well I brought you breakfast," Hermione stuttered as she stood in the open door, unable to move from the spot. She licked her dry lips and swallowed. It had been a few years since her last date, and even longer since she had seen a man in that state of undress, and her body was betraying her mind in her reaction.

"Miss Granger, you have nothing to apologise for. I am sorry. I was having a bit of a lie in," Antonin explained, sitting down at the dining table.

Hermione's face fell as the guilt overtook her. "Of course you were having a lie in, you were just released from prison. I'm so sorry. I can come back. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry," the words tumbled from her mouth quickly, and her feet still hadn't moved from the doorway.

Antonin ran his hair through his curly hair, he took a deep breath, "I wasn't saying that to make you feel guilty, don't feel bad about showing up at this late hour."

Hermione nodded, still unable to erase the mental image of Antonin Dolohov shirtless. Her body had physically reacted to the sight in a way she hadn't felt in a very long time. His body still needed some meat on it, and his pyjama pants had hung low on his too-narrow hip bones. However, her traitorous mind had also taken in the smattering of chest hair that led all the way down under the pants. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't banish the thoughts of what was under those pants, the prominent bulge was seared into her mind.

Taking a step into the room, she wandlessly shut the door behind her, setting the two drinks on the table and the bag of muffins. "You seem to feel better today."

Antonin took stock, and realised that he had sprang out of bed at a speed he had been incapable of in months. "Now that you mention it, I do feel much better. Your friend prescribed some wonderful medications."

"Hannah is the best, top of her class when she studied to become a healer. She has a real talent for medicine," Hermione replied, and to her surprise the muffin before her suddenly looked very appetising and she dug in.

Silence fell around them for a few minutes while they ate their muffins and drank the tea.

Antonin was surprised that she had remembered how he preferred his tea. He closed his eyes as the warmth from the cup seeped into his veins, he stared at his long fingertips, following his skin to his hands, rugged and callused from years working manually, to his wrists. He could tell you exactly how many days, months and years they had been shackled. Unlike his last release, which wasn't legal, this time he was truly free of the them. Freedom, that's what he had before him now.

The concept was foreign and he had only just begun to scratch the surface of what this new life could become. While some dreams might never be realised and seemed near impossible at this point, he had, for the first time in his life, hope.

"May I ask a few questions?" Antonin began, breaking the silence around them.

Hermione nodded, her eyes raised to the man before her. She struggled to keep her eyes on his face. While, his shirt may have adequately hid his chest hair, it did nothing but perfectly accentuate the lean muscles beneath. Despite the fact that he looked too thin, his muscles had not lost their definition, and he looked positively fit.

"No one really explained why I've been released, and while I'm not complaining, I was given a life sentence," Antonin said slowly, his words careful. From the moment the guards had informed him that he was being released he struggled to think of the reason why. He had no redeeming qualities, and he knew he deserved the time he was sentenced to.

Her head titled to the side, pondering the man before her, "Mr. Dolohov were you not forced to become a death eater because of a blood oath your father coerced you into?"

His jaw clenched, unwilling to relive the memories that plagued him from that time in his life. The pain, thirty years later, was still too great. "But a blood oath does not negate the crimes I've committed, and those are numerous."

Hermione could see the tightness around his eyes, and was overwhelmed by the fury and the palpable emotion the wizard was showing. His eyes showed her everything she needed to know. This man wasn't cold and thoughtless, but conflicted and struggling. She chose her words carefully before she replied, "No, it does not. Wounds inflicted will not heal because you were compelled to commit them. However, the difference is the intention. In this circumstance, you did not freely choose to join Voldemort," she paused for a moment when the wizard hissed but continued. "So you will receive early release from Azkaban. We will be reviewing all of your crimes, all of the crimes you witnessed and we would appreciate your help in the matter, but won't force you either. What you did while serving him, you are still guilty of, but the difference is joining willingly and by force, with your magic being threatened."

Antonin swallowed hard, his mind a flurry of activity, how much had she seen of that night? Who of the numerous people at his Uncle's house had been the one to produce the memory? But the thought at the forefront of his mind, what did the witch before him think of him now, knowing his hand had been forced? He shook his head, he couldn't allow that train of thought to continue. He still had committed unspeakable acts under the Dark Lord and it wouldn't do to forget that he deserved his sentence and more for his actions.

Hermione swallowed as she watched the wizard go from panicked to angry to distant in mere seconds. "I'm sorry Mr. Dolohov, I can't imagine those are pleasant memories."

Dolohov let out a cold chuckle, and ran his hands through his hair, "No, they are not. Why is the minister waiting to announce my release?"

"We have a leak within the Ministry, specifically, close to Harry and Kings. Your release would be big news, which is why we've leaked two sets of false information, that you've been moved to two different locations, neither of which are true. When the reporters show up to one of those locations we'll be able to find them," Hermione's voice was even, but it still angered her that someone within the Ministry was passing information to the Prophet.

Antonin watched as the ends of her hair bristled the longer she spoke, until the tips started sparking with static electricity. Moving his gaze to her eyes, he found she didn't seem to notice her hair. Was it something that common to the witch that she didn't even realise? He thought she must not have known how potent her magical energy must be for that to happen.

"What if they never share the information? What then?" Antonin asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Hermione bit her lower lip, "We hadn't really thought of that. I suppose we'll have to move forward and announce your release."

He nodded his head. He was a prisoner again, just under better living conditions, but he was not about to complain. He assumed that at some point he would indeed be free, to design a life without a megalomaniac running his life.

"One last question, well it's more of a favour," he said, his voice low and he fiddled with the cup in front of him. He had thought about it late last night, before the comfort of the bed had engulfed him.

Hermione gave him a small smile and nodded, "If it's within my power, it's yours."

Antonin couldn't help but smile, he had no doubt in the sincerity of the witch's words. It was such a change of pace from his whole life, where everyone operated under deceit and double meanings. "I would love some of the latest in depth charms books. I know I don't have much money, but whatever is in my Gringotts vault is yours. I'd love to get a job with charms eventually and I need to brush up on my skills, and test out this new wands abilities."

Hermione's small smile grew, to a full beam. It was such an innocent request, and really did give a good glimpse of the man sitting in front of her. His eyes were alight with excitement at just having his hands on new charms books. "I can run out tonight and grab you some, but I can't believe I forgot to tell you. The Ministry, well Kingsley, has set up an account for you, temporarily of course, until you can begin work that will cover your expenses. If you need anything, clothes, new robes, books, potion ingredients, anything, just let me know."

Antonin's eyes widened, and though he fought the reaction, a slow blush spread across his cheeks, "I couldn't take that money." His statement was simple but his voice was low and determined.

"Mr. Dolohov, you can't work right now and you've spent the last six years in Azkaban. You'll need to buy some things, I had to use some from your account to buy you the basics yesterday," Hermione watched as the stubborn man continued to stare at her.

"I will figure something out," he said, his jaw set as he refused to budge.

Hermione sighed, it was her lot in life to be surrounded by stubborn men. "How was the soup last night?"

Antonin's mouth watered slightly at the mere thought of her wonderful soup, "It was delicious, thank you for making it. Once I'm well, you won't need to cook for me."

Hermione's eyebrow rose in surprise, most men would love to have their meals cooked for them, at least her men. "Can you cook?"

He chuckled, the pleasant sound echoed around the small room, making Hermione's heart speed up, "I can, and I'm not horrible. My mother taught me when I was very young."

The corners of Hermione's mouth quirked up, "Lucky you, my mother tried, it never stuck. Soup and toast are about the only thing I can cook."

"I could always teach you. The things I know, they're fairly simple," he said before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips. Antonin swallowed hard, he couldn't believe how comfortable he was with this witch.

Hermione looked down, trying to think of a reason to decline, but she came up with none. She wasn't sure what was prompting her sudden comfort around this man, but he did deserve a chance. "That would be nice, I'll take you up on it, if for no other reason than to learn not to poison people with my cooking."

Antonin laughed again, "I've heard you're the brightest witch of your age, I'm sure I can teach you not to kill people with food."

Hermione smirked, "It's a deal," she bit down on her lip, hoping her reddened cheeks weren't a dead giveaway. "Well Mr. Dolohov, I think you need another round of medication."

He couldn't help the pang in his chest when she reverted to calling him Mr. Dolohov, effectively distancing them again. "I'm feeling better, I don't know that they're necessary."

Hermione smiled, "I might agree but I value my life, and my dear friend Hannah would be inclined to threaten bodily injury if I neglected to treat you per her instructions."

Antonin smirked, nodding in understanding. He had his fair share of experience with bossy and demanding witches, and while the one before him tried very hard to appear low-maintenance, he thought he could see a glimmer of some high-maintenance tendencies. "Alright, do your worst."

Hermione couldn't help but smile wider, thankful he was being a decent patient. She grabbed the vials and reading Hannah's instructions carefully, picked the correct bottles. "It seems that she noted that your fever might be gone, but she wanted you to have another dose of the fever medicine, so you'll be loopy again."

Antonin groaned, he did not relish the loose tongue the medicine seemed to leave him with, especially around this witch. He chastised his younger self for not studying harder at Occlumency. "I beg your forgiveness in advance for whatever comes out of my mouth."

Hermione offered a small smile to the man before he grasped the small vial and chugged it down. Once he had taken the other potion Hannah had instructed, she turned and cleaned up the bag from their muffins and set the kettle on for some more tea.

Antonin stood, his gaze focused on the brunette curls he'd dreamt of for years, his feet moving automatically to stand behind her. Just as he was moving to lean forward, his witch turned.

"Mr. Dolohov!" Hermione screeched, her voice shrill and piercing. As she took a step back into the counter.

"Solnyshko, Ты такая красивая," Antonin said, his voice almost a purr, and though he did step back from her, his eyes stayed locked on hers. His face so close, that she could make out the subtle flakes of honey intermixed with his chestnut irises.

Hermione swallowed, "Mr. Dolohov, you startled to me, but I think it's the medication. Why don't you come sit down on the sofa?"

"Will you sit with me, Kotyonok?" Antonin said, a devious grin on his face.

"No, I'll sit in the chair and we can talk. Will you talk with me, Mr. Dolohov?" Hermione asked, her voice timid, as she moved her body around his to go sit in the red stuffed chair.

"What did you want to talk about Kotyonok?" Antonin said as he walked to the couch, throwing himself down he lounged comfortably keeping his eyes on the brunette witch.

Hermione bit her lip, she wasn't sure what she should talk to him about when an idea struck her. It surprised her when she didn't even feel guilty for manipulating the man, she reasoned that he had needs and pride wasn't a luxury he should have right now. "Why don't you tell me what other things you need or want that you don't want to use Ministry money for?"

"Did you know, Pchelka, that I loved Muggle clothing? Hate the people, but they seem to have a penchant for fashion. I especially love jeans. So much more comfortable and useful than trousers. Robes tend to get in the way, and I love the way jeans and a tshirt fits. Before, I assumed the role as a Death Eater and the Dark Lord took over my fucking life, I had loads of Muggle tshirts, the ones for their musicians had the best designs." Antonin stopped, taking a deep breath as he lost himself in memories. "You know what else no one knows about the big, bad Death Eater Antonin Dolohov?" Hermione smirked when he roared his name. "They don't know that I love charms, inventing spells is my specialty, something you know all too well."

Antonin sighed, moving his gaze from her eyes to glance over her body, and the scar from his curse tingled under the scrutiny. "You know I never meant to hurt you, Pchelka. No one will ever believe that though. It took me years to figure it out. You surprised me, Merlin, did you ever. The years I spent in Azkaban, I thought about it, and no one, not a single person, ever managed to get a spell on me that I wasn't anticipating. Except you, you bright, wicked girl, you silenced me and as I stared at you, I realised I didn't want you to get hurt in the mayhem, and with too many of my brothers around you would. So I threw my выводить из строя at you. I heard it not only made you unconscious but cut your body, I'm sorry. It was intended to be spoken aloud, I think the effects changed when I was silenced."

Hermione tried to swallow past her dry throat. "You-you didn't try to kill me?"

"Try to kill you, I never tried to kill witches or wizards if I could help it. Magical blood is too precious, and to my recollection, I have yet to kill any witch or wizard," Antonin explained everything as though Hermione's world wasn't suddenly tilting on its axis.

To be continued...

Kotyonok - Kitten

Pchelka - little bee (think "honey")

шрамами сна - Scarred Sleep

Solnyshko, Ты такая красивая - Little Sun, you are so beautiful.