Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to favourite, alert and review. This is new territory to me writing about Antonin, and I'm learning new things about my plot the more I write! Definitely darker than I had first envisioned, but I have pages of notes to keep me going! I hope you're enjoying it so far!


Chapter Six – Hermione's New Home

Hermione could only stare dumbfounded at the Dark wizard who stood before her. His eyes bored into hers, and she found her cheeks were flushed. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It was as if he didn't believe she was real. There was something else behind that look though, a feeling she knew all too well. Curiosity.

"What did you say?" she said, her voice no higher than a whisper.

He merely blinked at her, as if he had not understood her although she was speaking plain English. And it was no use him pretending that he didn't know the language – he had studied at Hogwarts for seven years before devoting his time to bigoted, power hungry tyrant.

"We must make tracks," he said, stepping closer to her. He held out his free hand to her, but she couldn't move her feet. Her knees knocked together as the man towered over her. "Things will be much simpler if you comply, Miss Granger."

His voice was soft, yet commanding, and Hermione weighed up her options. Although she was still technically a prisoner, if she agreed to go along with him, she could find as escape route. She might be a girl, but she knew how to handle herself in a fight. Knock him out, get his wand, get to the Ministry. She would be safe there – Minister Shacklebolt still considered her an old friend. He would protect her, alert the Auror Office, and then Dolohov would have nowhere to hide. Harry would have the whole team out, and he'd probably alert the rest of the Weasley family too – George and Ron would most certainly be up for a fight. It would not bring back dearly, departed Fred, but to see another Death Eater go down, would lighten their heavy hearts.

Taking a deep breath, sure that her new plan would work at some point, Hermione placed her hand in Dolohov's.

His hand stiffened around hers, but only for a minute. He urged her through the back of the theatre, Rowle following closely behind them. Brass candle holders burned low, creating a warm, cosy atmosphere, although several times Hermione stubbed her toe. She stumbled, but still she continued, her eyes flitting around her.

Dolohov led her down a set of stairs, towards a small door marked with faded red block letters. Hermione bit her lower lip in anticipation as Dolohov knocked sharply once on the 'Stage Door Exit'. The door swung open into a crowded alley – there was so much junk piled up unnaturally high around that Hermione knew if she tried to scale it, it would come down within seconds and she would lie beneath it, battered and broken.

Instead, there was a wizened wizard waiting with a scroll of parchment. He stared at Dolohov and Rowle, before his eyes settled on Hermione.

"What was your purchase this evening, sirs?" the wizard wheezed.

"Miss Granger," Dolohov said. Hermione was surprised he had not called her a Mudblood. In fact, he had said her name with a gentleness she did not expect.

"Location?"

This time, it was Rowle that spoke, delivering an address in London that Hermione did not recognise.

The wizard checked a mark against his parchment, and reached down into a plastic box. He muttered a few words, before he straightened his back with a snap, presenting Dolohov with a shabby one-eyed teddy bear. It glowed briefly.

"Take it," the wizard grunted. "One… two… three."

Her hand was still entwined within Dolohov's, when he and Rowle grasped the stomach of the bear at the same time. Hermione felt a tugging sensation behind her naval, the familiar pull of travelling by Portkey. An illegal Portkey, she realised. These people who had organised the auction must have a hand in the Ministry, and that thought scared her more than she would admit.

Hermione's bare feet landed on a thin carpet, in a dull lit hallway. Magnolia floral wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and a purple bicycle was propped beside a flat marked 'A'. The smell of dog and takeaway mingled in her nose, making her feel sick.

"Home sweet home," she murmured, and Rowle chuckled behind her. He dropped the bear he had been holding onto the carpet, sending dust into the air.

"Nah, we're a bit classier than this." Thorfinn pushed aside, thundering up the set of stairs. Paint peeled from the wooden bannister.

Hermione turned to face Dolohov. He looked thinner than the last time they had met, and a light dusting of hair grew sporadically on his face. Still, his intense eyes focused on hers.

"We live upstairs," he said, starting to move forwards. Hermione dug her heels into the carpet of the hallway, trying not to let her body be jerked by the collar and leash. She slammed into the bannister rail, grazing the skin of her breast, and she groaned. He stopped, his foot on the stair, turning to face her. He wasted no time in descending the few stairs he had climbed. Ducking low, he pushed his arm into the back of her knees, so that she dropped into his arms.

"Careful," he said, and bringing her close to his chest, he hurried up the stairs. She bounced against him, although there was no mistaking a pounding heartbeat. They arrived in the entryway to flat 'B', and Hermione could see a sparse sitting room, a clean kitchenette attached to it where Rowle was opening cupboards. Dolohov walked to a deep red sofa, and lowered his arms. "Please, sit."

Hermione did as he suggested, although her mind was now working overtime. Okay, a well- known pair of Death Eaters had her in their flat. She had no wand, and she couldn't see a sign of one on either of the two wizards, so far. She crossed her arms over her chest, the graze starting to pain her. Her plan was certainly not working.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Dolohov crouched before her, his hands linked together.

"Would you care for some tea, Miss Granger?"

"Tea?"

"Yes. Or we might have a jar of coffee somewhere, if you would prefer that?"

"You're offering me a drink?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you offering me a drink? Wouldn't you sooner, oh I don't know," she paused, ending with a flippant, "kill me?"

Dolohov smirked. "Why would I do that, Miss Granger?"

"Maybe because you're a Death Eater, and I'm nothing but a dirty Mudblood?"

"You are rather straight to the point, aren't you, Miss Granger? Let me assuage some of your fear." He reached across to her, and she shrank back as far as she could against the back of the sofa. Her body shook. She closed her eyes as his strong hands came towards her neck and –

A great weight was lifted from her body, and a breath rattled from between her lips. Cracking her eyes open, she looked down. In his hands, was the leather collar and leash.

"How do you feel now, Miss Granger?" he said softly.

She couldn't speak, although her eyes remained on the collar. What did this mean? What was happening to her now? Her thoughts roamed far and wide, before she finally said, "May I have a cup of tea please?"

Dolohov smiled – a smile that she was not ever used to seeing. "Certainly, Miss Granger."