Hi everyone i am back. And i have decided nit to post the next chapter till i get at least one review. Also Antonin's dialogues are in bold. Hermione's are in italics
Hermione opened her eyes to see that Antonin had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed. She vaguely remembered him viewing her memories and whispering comforting words to her. She wondered exactly what kind of a person he was. The one last night or the one who had cursed her. Well she would soon find out. After all it wasn't like she had any other work than figuring him out. She was aware that she most probably wouldn't be returning to school. She badly wanted to completer her education. Her parents had always said that education came first. The left later.
Antonin woke up with a stiff back ache. He realized he had spent the better part of day on a chair and he mist probably was suffering due to that decision. He did not find his Dorogaya in the room and assumed that she was in the bathroom. His dorogaya returned almost 10 minutes later with a very uncomfortable look on her face. She was dressed in a light blue half sleeved dress which fell till her knees. She looked beautiful. But Antonin knew that that wouldn't be the best thing to tell her at this moment.
How are you feeling now Dorogaya? Are you in pain? I am really sorry for what happened during my absence and also how i treated you the night before. I thought you actually liked me. I am sorry again.
Hermione was totally taken aback by his apology and the truth she sensed in it.
I am feeling fine now. I suppose it is ok. I don't exactly blame you.
We should do have lunch.
Yes, sure i am ready.
Antonin freshened up and came he gave Hermione a tour of the house after lunch
The tour began in the gardens. Outside the mansion, the sheer size of the mansion was revealed. Climbing ivy scaled the western side of the mansion, constrasting starkly with the ice white bricks.
Dolohov Mansion is over 300 years old making it it the youngest of any Pureblood estates. It is one of the largest, rivaling with the Lestange Estate. Hermione gaped in awe. With Antonin leading the way around the gardens, Hermione couldn't help but feel dwarfed by all the exotic plants. Flowers of every possible colour waved at her in the light breeze; some towering over her miniscule height.
My mother loved Herbology. This was all her work, although Father would try and claim some credit - mostly for just buying the plants. In fact she was a qualified herbology mistress
What were your parents like? Hermione asked, as she turned to him with a tender look. A small smile crept onto his face, memories swimming before his eyes.
My parents were unlike any other Purebloods. They married for love, not some political scheme. They were doting parents; playing with me, teaching me about the world Mother would insist on my help in the garden, and then give me a tell off when I began throwing mud at the house-elves. Father would watch and laugh, before sprinkling leaves over Mother's hair.
They sound wonderful Hermione commented. Envy crept into her mind. The former heads of the family had married for love, just as she had dreamed she would - yet, she was bound in a loveless marriage. Antonin nodded, gesturing towards the front door.
Rooms swept by, most were rarely used. Eight sitting rooms, four parlors and a dusty ballroom later, Hermione was ready to collapse. Her feet ached from walking, but she didn't want to stop, in case it angered Antonin. More rooms whisked past, the mansion was a maze of corridors and rooms. She counted twenty-nine bedrooms throughout the mansion, each with their own bathrooms.
After three hours of walking, her husband stopped. We can resume the tour tomorrow if you would like? Antonin asked, concern etching itself on his face - taking note of her slight limp. Blisters had formed on her feet, and painfully pushed against the confining ballet shoes. Hermione nodded, eager to rest her feet. I would like to show you one final room.
Concealed in the East Wing of the mansion was the renovated library. Taking a few turns, Antonin stopped them before the doors. Emblazed on the oak was a large wolf - resting in the jaws was a cobra. The Dolohov emblem - Snape had told her about it. Pulling her hand forward, Antonin held it to the oak. A faint vibration ran through her body.
The doors only open when they register a Dolohov's magic signature Her hand fell to her side once again, as the doors swung open to reveal its treasures. Hermione gaped in wonder and shock.
Bookcases filled the room; spiral staircases leading to second and third floors of knowledge packed books. Aged parchment and dried ink filled her nose as she slowly entered the room. The walls were pale blue, gradually darkening the closer it got to the crystal chandelier. Gold accents reflected tiny rays of light; her ballet shoes clicked on the lamenated flooring. Each piece of wood polished to perfection. A few books floated over to a table in the centre of the room. Antonin smiled; seeing his young wife speechless, her eyes glinting with happiness made his heart flutter.
Atop the table, was a tray bearing food. Green grapes, cucumber finger sandwiches and glasses of elvish wine enticed her. Having walked quite a biy, Hermione's stomach rumbled on cue.
Sit, you must eat, Dorogaya, We have walked for many hours, you should rest, Antonin suggested, gesturing to the wingback chairs. Taking a seat, Hermione picked at the food immediately - catching herself before she caused herself any embarrassment.
Why did you want to show me the library so much? Hermione asked, intently watching her husband's face. He took a sip of his glass of wine before he answered.
I intended it to be my wedding present to you. The day we sealed our proposal, Dumbledore mentioned in the passing your passion for books and knowledge. That sealed my decision - you would require a space that you could feel completely at ease, so I chose the library
Hermione felt touched. He is giving me the entire library, she thought. Tears welled in her whiskey eyes; no one had given her such an extravagant gift. It reminded her of her favourite story, the fairytale of a beauty and a beast - a life she was now living. Rising from her seat, Hermione approached her husband.
Thank you she whispered. Leaning down she brushed her lips on his cheek; a feather-light touch. Antonin didn't move - he was a wolf and she was a deer, one move would startle her. Drawing away, he was surprised to see a light blush on her pale cheeks, drawing his attention to the little scar on her cheek. Antonin decided in that moment that a drop of her blood would never be drawn again - he would ensure it.