A/n: This chapter came along A LOT faster then the previous have, yay! I think my depression is finally being controlled, also yay!
6 is being written as we speak, and hopefully I'll have that done this week (but as always please don't hold me to it!
A lot of your reviews for the last chapter were awesome. I love how you all tended to guess the same woman as Antonin's attacker, but I won't give anything away, sorry.
Tons of beta love, as always, to gidgetmalfoy and kanewolfe. Who love me hard and cheer me even harder.
Please leave lots of love for this chapter, it's short but powerful.
Hermione sat on the edge of her seat looking at Antonin. Unconscious and pale, she couldn't help gnawing on her lip as she watched him. Even with Harry and Hannah's attempts to send her home she wouldn't budge. Frankly, she couldn't understand the need to stay with him, but she knew she wasn't leaving until he woke up.
When she had arrived at the little cottage, thanking Merlin for the charmed ring on her finger, to see Antonin being attacked and bleeding profusely, she had rushed to action. First protecting Antonin and responding to his attacker in kind. Second attempting to heal Antonin which proved to be incredibly ineffective, something the healers were stumped over for the first 6 hours while he was given copious amounts of blood-replenishing potion until they could close the Sectumsepra wounds covering his body.
Once he was finally stable, she rested, closing her eyes, but not moving from her watch at his side. The worry and fear overwhelming, and the idea that his attacker might just come back to finish him off.
Hermione had awoke in the wee hours of the morning to find Antonin's dark brown eyes locked on hers. Blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes, she turned to fully face him.
"Hi," she said, her voice low, barely a whisper in the quiet room.
Antonin looked over the small witch before him, still wearing the robes she had worn the previous morning when they had yelled at each other. Her hair was high on her head in a beautiful mess of curls, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. He swallowed before he croaked, "Hi."
Hermione tilted her head to the side, looking at him carefully. "I'm really really angry with you right now, but I'm too tired to deal with you right now."
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." Antonin watched her as she nodded, and sat further back in her chair. "May I ask why you're here."
"You may ask," Hermione said, before a smirk broke over her lips. "I guess I'm worried about you."
"Why are you worried about me?" Antonin asked before he could stop himself, his heart hammering a strong beat against his ribs.
Hermione bit down on her lower lip, convinced that one day she would gnaw it right off. She let go of her lip, fixing him with a serious look. "I don't know, maybe I don't want anything to happen to you."
Antonin's heart stuttered, skipping a beat like a young school girl, and before he could stop himself he smiled widely.
"I'm going to go get the nurse and let her know you're awake. I'll be right back." Hermione said, standing before the grin on her face was noticed. "By the way, I found that book beside you when you passed out. I grabbed it before we apparated." She nodded towards the leather journal on the table beside him.
The rest of the day was spent with Hermione stubbornly removing the journal from his hands every time someone came into see him. He would cry out in frustration and they would fall into playful banter while he tried to convince her to give it back to him.
"You stubborn witch, it's not even yours. And I am paying attention to what they have to say." Antonin said, grinding his teeth in frustration. He had just gotten to a good part in his notes about charms.
"I'm just ensuring that you give them all of your attention." Hermione said, her voice clearly demonstrating how unrelenting she would be about this.
By mid-afternoon he sat before Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt to explain what had happened, in as much detail that he could provide, before they extracted the memory from him. The Minister proceeded to explain how incredibly reckless his actions were, and that while they looked into the matter further that he was no longer allowed to leave his cottage.
"Harry, do you think you could stay for a few more minutes? I'm going to run home, feed Crooks and change clothes." Hermione said, standing up from the chair she had occupied for the last day and a half.
"Of course," Harry said as he took her seat.
Antonin watched from the hospital bed as the Minister and Hermione left, having a friendly conversation. He wondered how his witch became so close to someone of power.
"It's not because she's a war heroine, they fought side by side multiple times during the war. Kingsley also helped her get her parents back," Harry said from the side, his green eyes carefully observing Antonin. It had been years since a person's behavior went unnoticed by him. He had spent too many years as an Auror.
Antonin looked at the Boy Who Lived, a child the first time he had ever laid eyes on him, now an Auror, Head of his department, and Hermione's best friend. He said nothing, wishing he could cast a Notice-Me-Not and escape from Harry's knowing gaze.
"Hermione is my best friend, and above all I trust her. If she wants to sit at your bedside and make sure you're ok, instead of assigning an auror team to your door, who am I to stop her? You seem to be feeling the same unknown feelings for her as she is for you, just don't hurt her. If she doesn't hex you into oblivion, you'll find almost every corner of this country unforgiving." Harry finished his warning with a flourish of his wand as he summoned a copy of the Prophet to him. Opening it up, he hid behind it, effectively shutting off communication.
Antonin blinked a few times, completely unaware of what to say. His mouth was dry, forbidding him from speaking either way. He stared at the headline of the Prophet, where Harry Potter's head had been. A moving picture of his own face, an old mugshot, graced the cover underneath the headline: "Antonin Dolohov Released from Azkaban, Ministry Quiet."
He knew between his attack and the fact that his release had been leaked, his witch was now stressed beyond belief, and it was all his fault. He longed to go back to his tiny cottage, and possibly hex a few objects just to take his rage out on something. It had been years since he had felt his life was so outside of his control. Thirty years if his math was correct.
The minutes stretched by as they waited for Hermione to return and interrupt the silence that had descended around them. Antonin had summoned his journal back to him, and was carefully reading his detailed notes on area of effect charms when the door opened and his curly haired witch came strolling back in.
Antonin's mouth dried out again at the sight of her in comfortable muggle attire. Every other time he had seen her she'd been dressed in modern muggle business clothing and long witch's robes, but here she stood her hair swept into a large bun on her head, dark jeans and a tight maroon sweater. He truly couldn't imagine a more beautiful look.
"Goodness, I love hot showers," she sighed as she walked over to Harry who folded the prophet and left it on the table.
Antonin watched as they exchanged a few more comments and hugged before Harry left to go deal with a crisis at the Ministry.
Hermione smiled at Antonin before she settled back into the chair to his side. "Did Hannah come back in with any news while I was gone?"
"No," Antonin replied simply as he tried to think of something other than her in the tight maroon sweater. His voice was quiet when he asked, "What's a Crooks?"
"What?" Hermione said looking up at him, her bright brown eyes finding his.
"What is a Crooks? You said you were going to go feed a Crooks." Antonin explained.
"Oh, that's my half-kneazle, Crookshanks. I've had him since third year," Hermione smiled, clearly happy to talk about her orange fluff ball.
"Ah, I've only ever seen full kneazles, smart creatures," Antonin said, as he sat down the journal on his lap.
"He is very smart. Did you have any familiars before you went to Azkaban?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I was always a cat person, but never owned one myself. My parents had one when I was younger," Antonin said, thinking of his mom and his old cat Kasina.
The rest of the afternoon passed with them making some conversation about the charms he was reading up on. When it was nearly eight that evening Antonin finally looked up at Hermione getting comfortable in the chair beside his bed.
"Why don't you go home? You don't need to stay with me," Antonin said, as his stomach clenched uncomfortably.
"Yes, I do. I'm in charge of you until your probation is up in a year. So, until then I'm to make sure you don't get hurt," Hermione said her voice clear and matter of factly.
"You do remember the many, many duels I was in throughout my life? I know how to defend myself," Antonin said.
"Yes, I know, but we don't know who attacked you. And until we do, I'll remain here to make sure you're safe, till we can get you moved home," Hermione said, finally sighing and standing up. She pulled out her wand and quickly transfigured the small chair to a flat bed, and settled down.
"Why do you care if I get attacked again, they have security here?" Antonin asked, his voice low as his heart raced.
Hermione bit her lip, she had been asking herself that same question for the past 36 hours, unable to reason why she cared that she be the one to protect him. She shrugged her shoulders, "Just want to make sure the job is done correctly." As Hermione laid down on the small bed, her body turned away from him, she sighed. She knew logically that you couldn't help who you developed feelings for, but after his attack she was overwhelmed by the sense of protectiveness she felt for the ex-Death Eater.
She had spent much of the twenty four hours he was unconscious studying his features, and had finally admitted that she found him very attractive. Especially now that he'd started putting on a little weight since his stay in Azkaban. She had also spent most of the evening wrestling with how worried she was for Antonin. The image of him laying on the ground bleeding out was something she was sure she wouldn't forget for a long time.
Antonin turned over, smiling and with thoughts of the curly haired witch beside him he fell asleep.
By the next morning Antonin was beside himself, furious at being confined to the bed, to this room, to this very hospital.
"Send me home witch, I'm fine." He growled at the blonde before him, his gaze narrowed.
"I'm going to give you a few more blood replenishing potions before I even think about that, Mr. Dolohov. And if you're not a good patient, I'll knock you out and allow you to heal that way," Hannah grinned evilly at the wizard pouting in the bed.
Antonin turned his gaze from her to the brunette witch at his side, she smirked at him. "I told you to behave, or Hannah will actually knock you out to make sure you're more compliant."
He couldn't believe his luck, waking up to find that he was not only laying in a hospital bed, being cared for by his stubborn witch. However, having to deal with his healer, who was an equally stubborn witch, was exacerbating. "I want out of this bed. I'm fine!"
"You can get out of the bed and walk around your room, but you're to stay in this room. That's final." Hannah said fixing him with a glare before she winked at Hermione and left the room.
"Why can't you just apparate back to the cottage and grab a book or something, there is nothing to do in this tiny room." He growled in the direction of Hermione.
"Because, I'm not letting you out of my sight, you moron." Hermione raised one eyebrow, challenging him to contest her assessment.
Antonin sighed, giving up. He had tried in vain for the last twenty four hours to get out of the room, but his witch wasn't one to relent. And with the threats of restraints and sticking charms, he had no choice but to relent. He sank deeper into the bed, and fixed her with a raised eyebrow of his own before she huffed and gave him his notebook back.
"Stubborn wizard," Hermione muttered as she handed over the leather journal to Antonin.
"Stubborn witch," Antonin said, smirking as his fingers closed over the soft leather. He had been so relieved that the book was still in his possession when he awoke twenty four hours ago, that he had spent much of the time laying in the bed memorizing the notes and ideas he had thought up over two decades ago.
Around dinner time the door to his room opened again and Hannah swept into the room, with a smile on her face. "Well Mr. Dolohov, your last test was good, so one more test and if you're still holding up we can send you home."
Antonin smiled as her wand moved over his body leaving him with tingles over his flesh. His smile grew when she declared him healthy enough to return home.
Hermione created a portkey from an old vial of pain potion, and turned when he got dressed. With Hannah's firm instructions to continue applying dittany and come back if a fever set in, they held onto the vial as it pulled them by their navels.
Antonin took a deep breath of the sea air and turned to smile at Hermione. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. He was certain she had never looked more beautiful in her life.
"Thank you for taking such good care of me," he breathed, taking a step towards her, closing the distance between them.
Hermione swallowed, craning her neck to look up into his deep brown eyes. "It uh...well you were...and I just wanted to-," her words cut off when his lips crashed on hers. In that second Hermione was overwhelmed by his soft lips and the earthy masculine scent that seemed to be completely Antonin. When he pulled away, his lips quirked in a small smile, she noticed his brown eyes and turned even darker.
She took a step backwards, suddenly aware of his eyes and his hand that had been on her back. "I...I think...I need to go." Hermione turned and ran the ten feet to the edge of the wards and spun on the spot. The last thing she saw before she disappeared was Antonin's eyes narrowed in concern, and his flushed cheeks.
Her feet slammed into the floor of her flat, her heart hammering against her chest. All she could think was how badly she wanted to turn again, go back, and finish that kiss. That's when she noticed the blood drops on her floor.
To be continued...