A/n: Last week I forgot to include the translation for the spell that Antonin had used on Hermione at the Ministry, so sorry.

выводить из строя - incapacitate

In my mind, Antonin desired to never harm a magical person, let alone a child, so he would have invented a spell that would look worse than Stupefy. Obviously he couldn't use it all the time, otherwise Voldy would become wise to what he was doing, but in this instance my Antonin would have never wanted to harm Hermione.

Thank you Shaya for the wonderful name for the charms book.

So much beta love to GidgetMalfoy & KaneWolfe

As always your reviews are my currency, and while I continue to battle depression they are wonderful, and I want to thank you all for your incredibly kind and thoughtful words. You all mean the world to me, thank you.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, while the wizard before her leaned further back into the couch. "Mr. Dolohov, are you saying that you've never killed a witch or wizard? How is that possible? You were in Azkaban for murder charges."

"I think you'll find that I was actually in Azkaban under the charge of using unforgivables, though my memory might be wrong. To answer your question, no I've never killed a witch or wizard?" Antonin said, his voice still loud and carrying, in his medicated state.

"What about Gideon and Fabian Prewett?" Hermione's brain was running wild, and her palms had begun to sweat, if he had truly never committed murder this could change everything.

"Nope, I was knocked unconscious during the fight, and when I came to the Ministry was swarming around. I was arrested and charged with murder. The Prewetts were dead, and the Ministry sentenced me with proof that my wand had fired the curses, but I have no idea what happened after I was knocked out." Antonin's voice even as though he were reciting a recipe.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly running through his case file in her head. She knew the wand evidence had been the only proof of the Prewett's murders, that and eyewitness testimony of him being at the scene. It just didn't make sense that they hadn't investigated further. On top of that, his wording was still bothering her, so carefully in a low voice she asked, "Mr. Dolohov, you said you've never killed a witch or wizard, does that mean you've killed muggles?"

Antonin's hard laugh cut through the quiet room, before his brown eyes locked onto hers. "Only two muggles, and they deserved every ounce of suffering they received."

Hermione stood up quickly, "Why? Because they were muggles?" She hadn't been around anyone in the years since the Battle who openly talked about muggles that way, let alone in her company. Her reputation as the war heroine who happened to be a muggle born was enough to silence most people.

Antonin stood up, slower and more calculated than she had, his steps carefully measured he stood in front of her. With only a few inches between their bodies he looked down at her. "No, Pchelka, because they deserved it. I was too late, and I caught them murdering a little girl, so I let the rage overtake me and I killed them."

Hermione continued to stare into his eyes, her anger forgotten. She blinked a few times, finally letting go of the breath she was holding, her voice low she asked, "Do you hate muggles, Antonin?"

"I used to, Pchelka, but I've had quite a few years to appreciate the brilliant things they've provided the wizarding world," he said. His voice low and husky as he pushed a curled tendril out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Antonin woke early the following Tuesday, his wand gripped tightly in his hand as he heard footsteps a floor below. It had been the snap of the door shutting that had woken him, and made him alert. Years of living in fear of Death Eaters who might want to kill him, and the Ministry who was out to capture him set him on edge, even with his new freedom.

Antonin quietly crawled from between the sheets of the large bed, thankful that, for as old as this house was, the floors were sturdy and didn't creak. As he made his way from his room to the hallway, he heard a rustling noise but nothing else.

Slowly he crept down the stairs, his body relaxing when he saw his witch's long curls. He put the Aspen wand back into the pocket of his pyjama pants and cleared his throat.

Hermione screamed turning on the spot with her wand pointed at Antonin Dolohov, as though he had broken into her house, not the other way around. Behind her on the large dining table were boxes of shopping bags.

She took deep, steadying breaths forcing her heart to slow down, as it beat a fast rhythm. "Mr. Dolohov, you startled me. I'm sorry."

"Miss Granger, I didn't expect you this early, I'm sorry to have startled you."

Hermione looked away, trying to ignore his shirtless figure, again, as though the man before her hadn't appeared in her dreams in the days since Saturday. After she had hastily left his house after his admission, she had cleaned her entire flat. She had even scrubbed areas that hadn't been seen in years, and when there was nothing left to clean had turned on movies as distraction. She imposed her company on Harry and Hannah earlier than expected on Sunday and ended up spending most of the day with them. When it was time to go back to her extremely tidy flat, she once again tried to allow movies to keep her brain from thinking too much of the wizard who hid in his castle by the sea.

Monday's work day involved more meetings than she normally took, as she was trying to empty her workload onto her coworkers, at Kingsley's request, and it left her no time to research Antonin's claims from Saturday. When six struck, she heaved a frustrated sigh, knowing she had accomplished nothing in the way of finding out if Antonin Dolohov was as innocent as he had said. She instead made her way into Diagon Alley, purchasing as many Advanced Charms books that she could find, before making her way to Muggle London. Once there, she relied on his old pyjama pants size as an approximate fit for the jeans and tshirts she found for him.

"I, uh, well, I came early to drop off these." Hermione muttered, moving away from the table as he came closer to inspect the parcels.

"What is all of this Miss Granger?" Antonin asked, his voice confused, but he still smiled at her, happier than he cared to admit at seeing her.

"The things you wanted, the sizes might need adjustment but you said you were handy with charms." Hermione finally raised her gaze to the man as he watched her curiously.

Antonin narrowed his eyes in confusion before recollection of the conversation they had shared on Saturday when he was out of it from the fever medicine raced through his mind. After the medicine had subsided he had woken on the couch and watched her make more soup, and assumed that nothing significant had happened. He cursed under his breath, causing the witch to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Miss Granger it was very kind of you to buy these things, but I don't have the money. And all of those admissions about things I wanted were made under duress."

Hermione felt a moment of guilt before she pushed it down and forced herself not to roll her eyes, "You do, Mr. Dolohov, it's the money the Ministry has set up for you until you can begin working."

Antonin growled, "I won't use that money, I have my own."

Hermione's heart rate increased. "Your money barely paid for two of the charms books. You need clothes, all you have are decade old robes and a few meager possessions. You will need to purchase things to keep yourself busy in this place."

Antonin narrowed his gaze at the fiery witch, he hid his embarrassment at his impoverishment with anger. "Then take it all back, every last bit of it. I'll figure something out. But I'll keep the two books."

Hermione pulled herself up to her full height and thundered, "I will not take these things back you stubborn man. I spent hours shopping for the right kind of shirts, trying to make sure they had what you described you liked. The money is for you, and I cannot understand why you can't accept some help until you're allowed to make your own way."

"I don't need to owe anyone anything." They stood face to face, less than six inches between them, as he stared down at her. He could appreciate the fire in her eyes, and the crackle of magic coming off the tips of her curls. His mind recalled in perfect clarity the same stance from Saturday when he touched her hair. And his body was reacting in the same maddening way, by being aroused in the presence of this stubborn witch.

"You won't owe anyone anything, it's a fund for you. It's not a loan," Hermione said, her voice low and dangerous.

Antonin balled up his fists, "Fine," he growled, lowering his face even closer to her's. "I'll keep it all, but only because you bought it for me, Pchelka. Only for you." He turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving her by the dining table.

Hermione let out a cry of frustration loud enough to be heard upstairs before she mimicked his movements and stomped to the door. Slamming it behind her she turned on the spot, arriving in the lobby of the Ministry. As she made her way to her office, she only offered grimaces to her coworkers who tried to speak with her along the way.

As she sat down at her desk, shuffling papers around in the pretense of being busy she ran over the early morning in her mind. She had intended to drop the packages without being seen, much like a house-elf. Not only had the wizard heard her, but nearly frightened her out of her skin when he appeared shirtless at the bottom of the stairs, again. She hated her traitorous mind for recalling in perfect detail the trail of hair that went under his pyjama pants, and the pale skin covering the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

And what did he mean when he said 'only for her?' She couldn't help the blush spread across her cheeks, it had been years since she felt significant to a man, any man. Hermione sighed, this was not a man she should be getting attached to. This man had aimed his wand at her on multiple occasions. Even with his admission, he was still a registered Death Eater, and she still wasn't sure if he was trustworthy. She carefully banished the thoughts, and spent the rest of her work day attempting to work.

Across the country, Antonin shut off the water to the shower. A lot of his previous frustrations, both physical and mental, were making their way down the drain. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he smirked recalling Hermione's face when she had seen him shirtless in only this towel. Walking downstairs he made his way over to the dining table, which was full of wrapped parcels, shopping bags and even a bagged muffin. He smiled, overwhelmed by the gesture. Even if he had no desire to actually accept what sat on his table. Antonin opened the muffin bag, and his smile grew when he saw that she had brought him, a blueberry muffin, his favorite.

His fingers traced over the wrapped parcels, obviously from Flourish and Blotts, and what he knew would be advanced charms books. He had to hand it to the brunette witch, she had used the situation to her advantage. In a way that was almost Slytherin, but he knew that just showed how she truly was the Brightest Witch of Her Age. The first night when he had unpacked his dismal belongings that hadn't been confiscated by the Ministry, he had been unsure what to do about clothing. With only two sets of robes, one set of trousers, his favorite grey pyjamas, and a few shirts, he had been trying to figure out how to buy clothing with no money.

Twenty minutes later his dining table was covered in tissue paper, parcel paper and an entire wardrobe of clothing. He smirked at some of the tshirts she had found for him. He couldn't even find it within himself to be mad at the witch anymore. He gathered all of his new clothes into his arms, and took them upstairs. He carefully put everything away before grabbing a soft grey shirt and new jeans, and he headed back downstairs.

He set the kettle on the hob, needing a large mug of Earl Grey to shake off the cloud he already felt brewing for this day. He was thrilled at the attention she had paid him, and his mind was a whirlwind just trying to figure out her motivation. But his pride was currently being stomped on just wearing the clothes and looking down at the neat stack of books that he had opened and put into order by author.

Antonin sat in near silence until the kettle began whistling. He stood up to prepare a cup with a dash of firewhiskey to take the edge off. Seated once again, he flipped open the front covers of all the new charms books one by one, until he sighed in frustration and shut them all again. The witch really was incredibly detail oriented, and while he could see the similarities between himself and the clever witch, it annoyed him. She had gone so far as to write his name into "This Book is Property of" label of each book in, what he would bet a galleon he didn't even own, everlasting ink.

This witch would surely be the death of him. Her stubbornness was maddening and endearing simultaneously, but her fire and courage took his breath away and made him want to pull his hair out at the root. Picking up Challenging Charms for Clever Casters, and smirking at the title, he settled down onto the couch with his mug and blueberry muffin.

Antonin's perusal of the first charms book took him into the late afternoon, when the theory of area of effect charms gave him an idea. He sat the book down quickly on the coffee table, and dashed up the stairs to his box of meager possessions. Pushing aside the dismal clothes, and other books he grasped the two leather bound notebooks on the bottom of the box. Sitting down on the bed, he flipped through them twice before he gave up and sighed heavily.

Before he was placed in Azkaban the first time, he had spent much of his time in the Dark Lord's service trying to develop complex charms and spells for his Lord's use. He had studied an area of effect spells and had found an intricate wand movement that seemed to aid in the creation of new charms. However, that detailed information and research was in the other leather bound notebook that was missing from this box.

Antonin could think of only two places that that notebook could be, and before he could give it a second thought he was dashing down the stairs and out of the front door. Once he felt the wards melt around him, he spun on the spot and stood before the small cottage that had once belonged to Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and the place where Antonin's freedom had been lost.

Like many houses from the war, this one had been preserved and turned into a sort of memorial for the Prewett Brothers. Pulling the cloak he had quickly grabbed tighter around him, he steeled his resolve and set off for the tiny cottage.

He opened the gate quietly, thanking Merlin that the tiny property didn't have wards on it. The yard seemed manicured and well maintained and he pondered if that was because someone came to care for it, or a magical stasis charm on the property. When he pushed against the front door, he was pleased to find that it also remained open. The room looked exactly as it had the first moment he had set foot in the cottage, before the Prewett brother's died, and the wand fights damaged the interior of the small sitting room.

Antonin raised his wand and muttered a quick summoning charm for his lost notebook. His eyes moved around the small room, and quickly a sense of unease settled over him. As he focused on the low embers still red in the hearth, he noticed an open book on the small table near a chair. As he was turning to leave, two movements happened simultaneously, the leather bound notebook hurtled toward him, which he caught quickly in his hand, and the door behind him swung shut with a snap.

"I knew you would come back here, Dolohov, to enjoy the sight of where you killed them." A cold, disembodied voice called from somewhere opposite him.

Antonin turned, raising his wand, his once honed battle reflexes immediately engaging. He spun slowly trying to find the person who had spoke. "I just came here for my notebook."

"You killed him, Dolohov," the voice cried, angry and bitter.

"I didn't-," Antonin's words were cut off by a loud cry, and he was hit.

Blood pouring from his side, he threw up a shield charm, and made his way towards the door as more hex's came towards him. He reached a hand behind him, trying the handle, which blessedly opened, before he ducked around the side of the house.

In the seconds it took him to press his wand tip to the ring on his hand, he was hit again with a more powerful Sectumsepra than before. He could feel the cuts along his chest and legs, and he fell down from the pain. Raising his wand again with a shield charm. At his vantage, with a deep cut across his forehead, and blood streaming into his eyes he couldn't see his attacker.

The woman's screams kept coming, as she bared down onto Antonin, his shield charm starting to weaken as the blood seeped from his body, draining him of his strength.

Hermione stared down at the ring on her right hand, feeling the distinct burn of being called. Grabbing her wand from her desktop, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Down the hallway, past Aurors who yelled after her, to the designated Apparation point. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Antonin, his chiseled chest and dark brown eyes, and spun on the spot.

Opening her eyes, she caught sight of a woman shrouded in a dark cloak, over her whole body and covering her face. A wand held tightly in her hand as she fired curses at Antonin who's shield finally broke, and Hermione screamed.

Firing off her own hex she caught the women in the shoulder before the women looked in her direction and spun on the spot. Hermione cast an immediate bubble shield over herself as she ran the three feet to Antonin, his wand at his side, having fallen from his hand.

"Antonin? Antonin!" Hermione wrapped her hands under his head, her wand moving over his body, healing charms stitching him back up.

Antonin's face was covered in blood, and his eyes remained closed, but his lips moved, "Pchelka, you came for me."

"Of course I came, Antonin, what happened?" Hermione looked down at the wounds, that had begun to stitch themselves when they suddenly opened back up again, more blood pouring from his body. She raised her eyes to his face, which had suddenly laxed, his breathing shallow. Pulling him into her arms, she shook him, to no effect.

Hermione screamed, "Antonin! Antonin hold on."

To be continued...