Spring was swiftly approaching and with it the first hope of renewal Hermione had felt since before she had gone on the run with Harry and Ron nearly two years ago. She enjoyed being able to work again, to use her mind for something other than reading or staring out at the grounds around Malfoy Manor. Not that the grounds weren't lovely, with the dormant rose garden and the icy beauty of the fountains throughout. Work was a well-needed break regardless.
That, coupled with the regular use of her body, was helping her regulate herself in ways she hadn't since war broke out.
Everything should have been fine.
"Alright there, Granger?"
Theo Nott slid a cup of breakfast tea toward her along with the files they'd go through for the day.
They'd developed a bit of a ritual since she started working with him. She arrived in their private office and went over whatever he'd done since she'd been in last (Hermione worked Monday, Wednesday, Friday) or whatever might have come in during the weekend, then set up her station just how she liked it. Nott came in roughly ten to twenty minutes later with a freshly brewed teapot and a plan of action for the day. The pair of them exchanged little in the way of small talk, then got right down to work as they sipped their tea.
"Right as rain, thanks."
He nodded and smiled wanly and eyes the grey of ink spilled in water dipped toward her nervous hands. "Ah, that's right. You get your NEWTs results this week, don't you?"
Hermione had forgotten, against any odds even the stingiest betting men would have lain. "Yes."
It was better that he thought that was the source of her nerves, rather than the fact that she felt like something was off. What that something might be, she hadn't the faintest, but it was as though a sword dangled just above her head. Instead of it symbolizing the dangers and duties of rulership, it represented the mystery of her former captor and his plans. And no one else could take her place and the threat that accompanied it.
She was not foolish enough to think Antonin had given up. He'd been obsessed and possessive in the way of a fanatic, so it was only a matter of time before he appeared. Each day that passed without him put her that much closer to his inevitable reappearance. At this point, she thought she could see his shadow, the silhouette of her enemy creeping at the edges like a foe glass.
Hermione shook herself from thoughts of misty reflections and swigged her tea. Today, she needed it.
The pair worked in silence for most of the morning, until Nott cleared his throat to get her attention. "Could you look this over for me, Granger?"
"Sure." Hermione stifled a yawn. It must have been important, because he was biting his lip in trepidation. "Ugh, don't know why I'm so tired. Is there more tea?"
"Er, I think so?" He slid over the parchment with his calculations and grabbed the teapot to check. "Ah, no. I'll go make some more."
Hermione waved the offer away. "It's fine, Theo. I'll survive."
"It's no trouble," he insisted, already rising from his seat. His eyes darted to her as she reached for the parchment, and he froze. His pale eyes slowly rose from her hand to her face.
As her fingers met the smooth paper, her stomach lurched. Hermione feared she might hurl. Was she sick?
Then her body jerked, and she began spinning.
It was only when her gaze fell on a guilt-stricken Theo Nott that she thought, Portkey.
She did throw up upon landing, shaking and weak and wiping away tears from the action. If she were half a second faster, she'd have been able to defend herself from the smooth disarming spell sent her way.
Hermione was in a foyer. Her eyes darted around the cold, dismal place until she found the front door, turned on her heel and ran.
That had unfortunately been anticipated. Lithely leonine, her predator caught her round the waist and held her back to his chest as she flailed.
"Settle, katyonok ."
"Go to Hell," she growled, kicking back at him.
He laughed and let her fall to the floor where she glared at him with all the fury of a hurricane. Slowly she reached for the purse somewhat hidden by her robes, hoping to grab from it a spare wand, but Antonin watched her too closely for her to get away with anything. Another flick of his wand, and she was bound and at his mercy.
Black boots bracketed her thrashing body, but Hermione was unable to unbalance him no matter how she tried. "My poor, soft kitten. Are you having trouble?" His eyes were wells of black ink in shadowed sockets, silhouetted as he was by the candelabra. "It seems Malfoy has done you no favors."
"More than you ever did," she spat, and shuddered as his features twisted.
Antonin bent over her to grab bound forearms in hands like steel. She could feel the print of his fingers bruising her flesh. It was too easy for him to haul her from the floor and over his shoulder.
Her body bounced when she landed atop a plush mattress. He spelled away her beaded bag and her clothes and she began fighting again, rope burning against her in concert with her anger and desperation.
The bed dipped to accommodate the dark man, and she stilled just long enough to truly take him in.
Black curls fell to his shoulders and tickled against his crisp white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal pale forearms, and she could see a sliver of chest since he had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Black slacks tightened as he crept across the duvet toward her.
But it was his expression that caused her to freeze. A light of hunger shone in the darkness of his eyes, and his lips were parted with heavy breath.
"I've missed you, kitten," he purred against her throat. His hot breath turned her stomach and pebbled her flesh. When he ground against her, she barely repressed her shudder of disgust. "Have you missed me?"
Hermione's nose wrinkled. "You know I haven't."
"We shall see." One large hand ran down her nude body to dip between her thighs despite efforts to press them together. He rubbed circles over her clit until she couldn't help but feel the stirrings of lust, and grinned when he noticed the wetness from his ministrations. "It seems a part of you has missed me after all."
"It's only an autonomic response." She attempted to turn her head, but he caught her jaw in a vice-like grip so hard she could not close her mouth. His lips sealed over hers, his tongue diving in to plunder her mouth. She gagged and thrashed, but to no effect.
The hand from her core disappeared and then her legs were freed only for Dolohov to insinuate himself between them before she could lash out. He rose to his knees, cheeks flushed and eyes dark as he stared down at her. Hermione could see their mixed spit shining on his lips and knew hers matched. His fingers worked at his trousers.
She looked away. She knew what was coming next.
When he pushed into her, Hermione choked on her breath. He was thicker than Lucius. She'd forgotten, so used to the pale man now that he was her measure for what her body needed. Now, she was stretched too far.
Antonin groaned when he was fully seated. "So tight, katyonok. " His hips rocked back and forth to the song of her abated whimpers. "That's it, my love."
He didn't last long, spilling his seed so that it stung her abused core, then he curled around her like they were true lovers.
She had never hated him more.
Commissions available: /folly/commissions
: freyaschance
tumblr:
and AO3: freyafallen
