Hermione gnawed on her lip as she watched the quill in Antonin's hand flow smoothly over the parchment - or, more accurately, her eyes stayed fixed on the fingers themselves. Why had she agreed with his suggestion that they hold off a few hours on treating the curse so as to build the anticipation?
It was a Monday and, for the first time in a month, she was visiting him in the evening after a day of lessons. Her visits during the Easter holidays and the two following ones which had taken place during the weekend meant that she'd been able to visit earlier in the day, when the curse hadn't progressed as far. So, not only was her wait between relief longer than she'd been used to lately but Antonin's suggested delay these last few hours was pushing her to the equivalent of early into the next day.
At first, it had been relatively easy to study alongside him, completing a couple of her homework tasks and exploring his family's book together. But now she was beginning to struggle to concentrate on anything other than the prospect of his touch. The heat inside of her was almost unbearable even though she knew the temperature was cool in this cell. The warmer late spring weather had also lately seen her forgoing tights under her school skirt for the first time since the autumn, but her bare legs and short-sleeved school shirt were having little effect on her internal heat. If anything, the look on Antonin's face as he ran his eyes slowly from her ankles up calves, knees, thighs to the hem of her skirt only ignited a further burn deep within her.
Hermione was surprised that he had held off touching her at that moment, that he still hadn't laid a single fingertip on her even though his touches and caresses were normally so frequent now. She wondered if he was as distinctly aware as she was that she had lost an additional barrier of clothing. Thin as the fabric of her tights had been, they had still completely covered her from her waist to the tips of her toes. Now all that remained between his touch and her sex was a strip of fabric. Almost like a last line of defence.
Did she feel vulnerable? Perhaps a little. But she was reassured that the decision seemed to be completely hers. Antonin had let her dictate the terms or her surrender so far with little push back on his part, even though she knew he was probably very frustrated. The prospect of them having sex, of her crossing another milestone into womanhood, was not as daunting to her now as it had been last week but it was still a significant moment. You could only have a 'first' once and she didn't want to come away with regrets. Of course, Antonin would never have been her thousandth choice to lose her virginity with but the reality of the pull of the curse meant that she didn't really have a choice in the matter - not unless she propositioned one of her fellow students (and that wasn't going to happen). So if she wasn't in control of the identity of her first sexual partner, she was at least going to make sure to exert whatever control she had over the circumstances.
Besides, there were a few benefits to having Antonin as her first. Obviously the effect of his touch should make the experience more enjoyable than she would have with anyone else. Also, he had come to know her quite well over the last few months (perhaps, shockingly, only second in that regard to Harry and Ron, and there was a side to her that the boys had never seen, knowledge that only Antonin possessed and it wasn't all about their physical relationship). She was also reassured by the fact that she was in no doubt that he was attracted to her - she had blushed several times over the last few days whenever she recalled feeling the hardness of his clothed erection against her body last week. Lastly, he seemed to know what he was doing when it came to sex. She could imagine that though it might be more heartfelt, a pair of inexperienced sexual partners would make for a very awkward time. Relations between the man and the woman she had seen in the daydream had definitely not been hesitant or uncertain and stemmed from Antonin's experiences and imagination.
Hermione, herself, had found watching the couple surreal and a little embarrassing, but though those feelings didn't completely disappear, they were surprisingly overshadowed by how arousing she'd found it. Antonin's remark about how he wanted everything that they were about to see to happen between them was mostly to blame because Hermione had found herself imagining just that, craving it too. Those previous vague fantasies when she'd pictured the two of them together were now crystal clear after the 'mystery' of sex had been revealed to her. The sights (and a fair few sounds) had been quite an education. Antonin had offered her more - the chance to feel it all before it truly happened, the opportunity to overcome her anxieties in a completely safe environment - and with the desire swirling in her veins, lust making her body yearn for his touch more than ever, it had been incredibly difficult to turn him down. But she'd meant what she'd told him and she didn't regret her decision: she wanted their first time together to be real. To her, engaging in dream-sex with Antonin would cheapen her first true experiences. It would be cheating themselves. She didn't want unconscious comparisons to how things felt differently compared to a dream. The chances were that it would feel better in reality but what if it turned out worse? What if her sexual encounters could never live up to a dream? She'd rather be oblivious.
Hermione had found herself thinking about the dream quite a few times over the last week. Not just a recollection of the arousal she'd experienced but little details she'd not really paid close attention to at the time and now had the chance to consider - the man's narrow hips, the body hair leading down to his crotch, the shape of his penis, the trimmed pubic hair at the apex of the woman's thighs, the size of her breasts, her cry when he had sucked on one of her nipples, how her chest had flushed as he lavished her with attention, how he hadn't pushed into her the whole way at the start, how her feet had locked together behind his back, the slick sound of their bodies meeting…
The dream had done its job. She knew her first experience of sex wouldn't be exactly like that but, with time to reflect on her research, she felt like she knew enough. That she was prepared. That it was no longer this huge personal taboo that she'd built up in her head even if she still wasn't comfortable or confident talking about it openly. She doubted she'd ever have entered the daydream last week if Antonin hadn't been there to witness her cowardice if she refused. She hadn't wanted to appear timid, anxious or embarrassed in front of him about witnessing what was essentially lifelike pornography, so she had acted as cool and unruffled as possible throughout, even though her face was on fire and she was sure her eyes looked ready to fall out of her head. There was no doubt that the viewing of such illicit material was definitely unseemly in society and she would be mortified if anyone other than Antonin knew what they had seen in the daydream but… she wouldn't be opposed to seeing more one day - for research purposes, obviously. She still had holes in her knowledge in terms of other aspects of sex that both Tonks and Antonin had mentioned, and she was curious about what sex looked like between two men or two women, though she doubted that she would be able to use a daydream charm to find out about homosexual sex unless Antonin had knowledge or experience of it.
But that could definitely wait for a while.
She wanted to experience sex for herself first.
Would it be tonight? More importantly, did she want it to be tonight? (Because she was pretty sure that if she said to Antonin that second that she was definitely ready to have sex now, he wouldn't object. It was in her hands.) But she didn't actually know what she wanted. Travelling to Azkaban that night, she had known for the first time that it might be a possibility; that her time with Antonin could lead to them having sex. It hadn't occurred to her that it might happen on her previous visit because she hadn't anticipated the sudden reduction in her anxiety around sex nor her heightened state of arousal after witnessing the daydream, but she was almost sure that they would have had sex last week were it not for his Mark.
Hermione had been caught up in the powerful grip of lust and yearning, her body eagerly responding now that it knew what to do, her fretful mind at peace now that it had answers. She had let go, turned herself over to Antonin, and was just living in the sensations they were creating together.
Seeing the Dark Mark on his arm for the first time as he'd reached for her had felt like being the victim of a freezing charm. Her passion was doused, her mind became clear and alert, her breath struggled to get past a suddenly tight throat, and her heart stabbed painfully.
She hadn't forgotten who he was. Not really. But it was still a rather nasty reminder of reality.
Whereas in the past she might have felt fear and disgust at the black, twisted shape inked into his flesh in a pledge of allegiance to an evil man and his ideals (and those emotions had not completely vanished), now she predominantly felt sadness - with a hefty dose of anger.
She had learned much about Antonin and his past over the last months and, just as he knew her quite well now, she also believed that she understood him and how he came to be the man he was. That didn't exonerate him in her mind of his crimes - he had committed some truly awful acts of his own free will and showed little, if any, remorse for his past deeds so he deserved imprisonment - but with her understanding came her empathy and compassion, as naturally as breathing. She couldn't help it. It was in her nature. Antonin might see a symbol of devotion when he looked upon his mark, but Hermione saw a brand of slavery - what else was it called when your life was owned by another? She saw a future wasted, a life sacrificed to the altar of Voldemort's wickedness, a child abandoned by the adults around him who were supposed to care for him.
That Mark belonged to someone that she wanted to save.
And maybe - just maybe - there was a greater chance now that she could.
Towards the end of her evening prefect duty two weeks ago, Professor Snape had unexpectedly approached her in the Charms corridor. Ernie Macmillan, with whom she had been completing her patrol, had opened his mouth in anticipation of reprimanding a curfew-breaking student but at the sight of the Defence professor he made a shocked, gagging noise and stumbled out a respectful greeting. Hermione was immediately alert and suspicious of Snape's presence, locking her mind down tight and ready to defend herself against a hex or jinx, but she doubted that he would be reckless enough to attack her with a witness present. She walked to and from the castle gates with him a couple of times a month and surely that was a far more opportune moment to strike. But she still felt on edge at this irregular meeting.
Snape's impassive gaze slid from her to Ernie. Ignoring the Hufflepuff's greeting (and Hermione's lack of one), he said, "I need to talk to Miss Granger about her unsatisfactory homework. Wait on the next floor."
Hermione's mouth fell open - but not as much as Ernie's. It was a ridiculous excuse for wanting to be alone with her - why would a professor talk to any student about homework in a random corridor late into the night, let alone such a diligent student as her - but the very fact that it was her who had supposedly performed so poorly in her work seemed to have stunted Ernie's own ability to think with intelligence. He looked dumbly between her and Snape for a couple of seconds, clearly trying to figure out how such a shocking thing could have happened, before walking down the corridor with his mouth still open.
Hermione tried not to let her hurt or anger over Snape's unnecessary besmirching of her reputation show - partly because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction if he'd purposefully intended to wound her pride, but mostly because an excess of emotion could cause her mental shields to falter.
Neither said a word while they waited for Ernie's footsteps to fade away and even then Snape's voice was little more than a low murmur. "The headmaster wishes to see you when you have completed your rounds."
She worked hard to prevent a slip in her shields but her heart started thumping anxiously in her chest. "Why?" There was a slight tremble in her voice.
Snape shook his head. "He did not say. I have an idea but it's not safe to discuss it out here in the open."
That wasn't reassuring. "Will you be there?"
"Yes."
And she wasn't sure she found that reassuring either. Two against one. Not that she would have had much chance going one-on-one with the greatest wizard of the age. Was she overreacting? Or was this the moment her fate would be decided? With a sickening lurch in her stomach, she wondered if Dumbledore had somehow discovered the time flow magic she had created and used with Antonin just two days previously. Had the aurors in the prison found her runes and informed the headmaster? Was she about to be expelled? Arrested? Killed? The weight of the rune disc hidden beneath her school shirt suddenly pressed down on her chest like a boulder.
Snape's hand was at her arm. It wasn't painfully tight like the last time, but it was firm enough to jolt her out of her spiralling thoughts. "Guard your tongue and thoughts carefully." His voice was barely audible. "It would be better if he remained unaware of certain things," he hesitated, "about your interactions with Dolohov and myself."
Even though he was being vague, Hermione felt like he was speaking more truthfully to her than he normally did. Perhaps she was being too trusting but what reason did he have to lie about this?
"For one," he continued, "I neglected to inform the headmaster that you've ceased to attend Occlumency lessons."
The night she had stormed out she had confronted him about her safety within the Order, told him of her belief that Malfoy was behind the recent attacks in an attempt to kill Dumbledore, and had accused Snape of not doing enough to protect the Slytherins. Had he not told the headmaster about her refusal to continue her Occlumency studies because it might lead to questions about why she had walked out on him?
I am trying to protect you… Snape had said a couple of weeks ago. Was this proof? Had his choice to withhold that information from Dumbledore bought her a few more weeks of life?
Or was this an act? Was he trying to regain her trust by telling her Dumbledore was unaware of what had occurred in that meeting when actually he'd known for over a month and was biding his time? Perhaps this was really some complicated test of her honesty and trustworthiness or a way to lower her defences.
Her head throbbed with the intense uncertainty and pressure of the situation.
Whose side was Snape on? In her eyes it didn't seem to be a simple choice between light or dark, Dumbledore or Voldemort anymore because both of those options had reason to wish her gone. She was loyal to Harry, and that would have to be enough for her. And for Snape? If he was truly devoted to Voldemort, her vulnerable position would surely have been exploited by now. And yet apparently Snape was also keeping information from the headmaster about her. Was Snape merely his own man, playing both sides, trying to navigate this war without losing either way? If so, Hermione still had to be incredibly wary around him: someone like that could act an ally now but turn to an enemy in an instant, especially with what he knew about her.
"If you are going to lie, you must be convincing," he warned her. "Sometimes speaking a half-truth, stopping at a precise point when more could be said, is enough to satisfy."
Hermione was hit with another wave of nausea at the prospect of having to lie to Albus Dumbledore.
"The password is toffee eclairs. I will see you shortly."
Then he was gone.
It took her a few moments to start woodenly moving her legs along the corridor and down the stairs until she met Ernie. "Er, everything alright, Hermione?" he asked a little awkwardly.
"Yes," she said quietly. No doubt her sombre demeanour would reinforce Snape's lie about her homework and she expected her uncharacteristic shortcomings would become common knowledge amongst the student population tomorrow. The idea was upsetting but at that moment she was more concerned with surviving the next couple of hours.
They completed their patrol in silence, and only shared a few words when completing their report and filing it in the prefect office before bidding each other goodnight.
Her time with Ernie had given her the opportunity to think - and plan. Instead of heading straight to the headmaster's office, she made a small detour.
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall's initial expression of surprise changed into concern. "Is it your curse? Do you need me to accompany you to the school gates?" The deputy headmistress was still in her robes even though the hour was late, and Hermione saw her reach towards her cloak, which was on a hook next to the door.
"No, Professor, the curse isn't troubling me at the moment," she replied, shaking her head. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see me." She made sure to keep her voice level and turned her body halfway back towards the corridor.
As Hermione had hoped, the movement had given the impression that she expected Professor McGonagall to step through the door and join her. "The headmaster has returned?" the transfiguration teacher said as she pulled her office door closed and took out her wand to seal it. "Why does he wish to see you?"
"I don't know," she said truthfully.
"Let's hope that it's nothing to worry about." Professor McGonagall briefly sent her a tight but bracing smile and then the women began the relatively short journey.
Hermione wondered how Dumbledore and Snape would react to McGonagall's unexpected presence. If the headmaster wanted to see her late at night then it was likely to be for an important reason. Surely it wouldn't be unreasonable for Hermione to seek reassurance from the presence of her head of house. Was it rather indicative that McGonagall clearly hadn't been asked to attend? McGonagall had been involved in all the other decisions regarding Hermione's safety afterall. Did that suggest that Professor McGonagall wasn't an active part of the threat Hermione faced from the Order? Hermione was sure that the deputy headmistress was loyal to Dumbledore but was there a limit? Professor McGonagall cared about her students but would she ultimately stand aside if her old friend decided that Hermione posed too great a risk to their cause? Hermione never would have thought it possible before but her precarious position in this war was making her question everything. Because of her doubts, she was aware that she was taking a risk by bringing McGonagall along, but she had little other option.
Ultimately, there was now going to be another witness to whatever was about to happen. Had Hermione chosen to make this journey alone and anyone - a ghost or portrait - saw her going to the headmaster's office, any excuse could be made if she subsequently disappeared. It still could, of course, but the more people who knew the truth, the harder it would be to cover up.
She had only been in the headmaster's office once before - when she had returned from Azkaban after questioning Antonin about the curse with Kingsley. As she rose up the spiral steps, she reflected on how much had changed for her nearly ten months later. Back then, she had been so grateful to Dumbledore for waiting in the Entrance Hall for her return, buoyed by his support in her decision to research the spell herself and completely certain in her faith in him. Now, she was wary of being in the same room as him, and the secrecy around the sessions with Harry proved that he no longer trusted her. While her position was more precarious, under threat from all sides, she actually felt much stronger within herself - not as naive, more independent, mentally fortified by her shields and capable of standing up for herself.
The headmaster looked tired - that was Hermione's immediate thought upon stepping into the office (as well as that the lack of aurors present implied that she wasn't about to be arrested for illegal time magic) - before his haggard expression tightened and his posture lifted. Dumbledore's eyes flickered ever so briefly over to the side, where Snape stood, but apart from that he showed no reaction to McGonagall's unexpected presence. "Good evening, Professor McGonagall, Hermione," he greeted, nodding to each woman in turn.
"It's good to see you, Albus," McGonagall replied and there was clear concern around her eyes as she, too, took note of his tiredness. Hermione hadn't been this close to him all year (not since she'd woken to him at her bedside in the Burrow back in the summer) only catching sight of him from afar a handful of times during dinner, and she was shocked at how old he looked. Obviously, she knew he was old but he'd never really looked it before despite his white hair and wrinkled skin. She found it disconcerting.
Averting her gaze, she unintentionally caught Snape's eye. He discreetly raised his brow a fraction in her direction but she wasn't sure whether that was a response to McGonagall's presence or a reminder of his earlier words of warning.
"I'm glad to be back," Dumbledore said, regaining her attention. "I apologise for the lateness of the hour but I expect that I will only remain in the castle for a few days, and there are matters that require immediate attention before I depart again."
Hermione's unease grew at the seriousness of his words - in what way did she require immediate attention?
He gave Hermione an apologetic smile. "It is remiss of me that before now I haven't met with you this year, Hermione. I've been neglectful in my duty of care towards you, though I know that you have been left in very safe hands," he said, lifting his arms to indicate Snape and McGonagall.
"You've been busy, Headmaster," she said in as reasonable a tone as she could muster. His words had reminded her of her anger at Dumbledore for failing to help Antonin, Draco and all the other children in his care that he had left vulnerable to Voldemort's influence in the past and present. She knew he wasn't exactly to blame for where their lives had led - that guilt lay strongly at Voldemort's feet and those of the children's parents - but, as headmaster, Dumbledore had a responsibility to protect all the students and to her mind it felt as though he had abandoned those who grew up in bigoted, dark-magic-associated households to their fates.
"As have you," Dumbledore replied. "Gaining your apparation licence at the first attempt six months ahead of your peers, progressing to a high conversational level of Russian according to your tutor, and Professor Snape tells me you have gained a mastery of Occlumency - all on top of maintaining your excellent academic record, fulfilling the demands and expectations placed on you as a prefect and managing the consequences of the curse. I cannot think of any other student - past or present - who would be able to match your level of bravery, commitment and strength in withstanding all those combined pressures."
"Nor I," Professor McGonagall added, looking immensely proud.
Snape said nothing but nobody had expected him to.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said humbly because there was nothing else she could say even if his praise made her feel uncomfortable.
He inclined his head then steepled his hands on the desk. "Is there any progress in finding a counter for the curse?"
She couldn't admit that Antonin believed that her curse damage was irreparable. His lack of cooperation on the spell could subsequently tie her to him for the rest of her life. Where would that leave her in Dumbledore's eyes?
But what else could she say? The wrong words could seal her fate.
Half-truths, Snape had said. Be convincing.
"I've never seen him work harder than in the last few weeks," she said honestly but failing to mention that he'd been focused on other spells. "And I'm making more progress through his notes now that I have a better understanding of the language and runes he uses. I won't give up on trying to find a cure."
Dumbledore nodded slowly but in contrast her heart was absolutely hammering at the misleading words, even if they had been truthful. "That is encouraging to hear," he said. "Do your Occlumency shields help you block out the effect of his touch?"
"Yes, definitely. If I focus my mind on my shields, it greatly reduces the intensity." Again, this was true. She just didn't bother using her shields in front of Antonin anymore.
"Excellent. It is good to hear that the efforts of yourself and Professor Snape have been worth it," Dumbledore said with a glance in Snape's direction. "And what of Antonin's behaviour towards you? You intimated to me how unpleasant your encounters were the last time we spoke. Has there been any change in him these last months?"
"He's not as bad as he used to be," she said simply.
"Good. Do you converse much?"
"A little. We sometimes discuss what I've been learning about in lessons. Apparently he took the same subjects as me at NEWT level."
Dumbledore's eyes momentarily rose in thought. "I believe he did. You have done well to endure and overcome his antagonism, Hermione. And - forgive me, but I must ask for your safety - the appropriateness of his touch?"
She had known the question was coming because he had asked it during their last conversation. Then, she had been able to truthfully claim that Antonin had never crossed the line of propriety. Now? The adults in the room would be utterly horrified if they knew even the least of how she let Antonin touch her now. Could she half-truth this like she had with all her other answers? She couldn't give them even an inkling of the full truth because that would probably see her doomed to an 'accidental' death even quicker than revealing that Antonin had stopped working on the curse.
She nodded, trying to remain calm. "He touches my arms," she said firmly, looking straight into Dumbledore's eyes.
She had anticipated a long stare or a follow-up question that definitely would require her to outright lie, but instead he merely nodded again and lowered his hands. Despite his question, perhaps he didn't think it possible that Antonin Dolohov would want to touch someone like her - or maybe that she would mislead him about it. She resisted the very strong urge to look at Snape. He knew that an attraction between them had been present months ago. Did he believe that their touches remained innocent?
"Good," Dumbledore said again. "I'm relieved to hear that you are coping as well as can be hoped for in the circumstances. However, the lack of progress in finding a cure for the curse - despite yours and Antonin's efforts - is becoming an increasingly pressing concern that we cannot ignore."
Hermione swallowed around a suddenly tight throat.
"But what can we do, Albus?" McGonagall asked anxiously.
"There will be an attack on Azkaban in the next few months, if not sooner," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. What will happen to you then, milaya? echoed in her mind but she fought not to let her fear show. "Voldemort will not leave his Death Eaters imprisoned forever."
"But if Antonin Dolohov escapes…" Professor McGonagall's voice trailed off and she gave Hermione a look of dismay, foreseeing that Antonin would happily leave her for dead. I'm actually minded to keep you when I get out. Hermione had no idea how he thought he could bring that about, but she didn't plan to meekly surrender to him, to endanger herself and betray Harry, even if her curse was burning her up. But she was increasingly sure that Antonin didn't wish her dead.
"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely. "We cannot let that happen."
He'd see her dead before she compromised Harry. In the end, they both wished to avoid the same thing and yet Hermione would like the choice to die if she must, rather than that decision being made for her.
"I intend to write to Rufus Scrimgeour to petition for Antonin to be transferred into the custody of the Order," Dumbledore told them.
Hermione's eyes widened in amazement and then she rapidly started to think about the implications should that come to pass.
"If we find somewhere safe, somewhere hidden and well-protected with enchantments, the Death Eaters might never find him again," Professor McGonagall said, similarly wide-eyed. "You'd be safe to continue seeing him," she said to Hermione with a smile before turning back to Dumbledore. "Do you think it's possible? Do you think Scrimgeour will actually agree to hand him over?"
Dumbledore gave a little sigh and focused on Hermione. "I won't deceive you - it will not be easy. Months of my refusing the Minister's demands for greater communication between us will not be quickly forgiven nor forgotten now that I seek something from him. With the tables turned, I expect him to make me wait before agreeing to an initial meeting where he will probably be insulted at the implication that I don't consider Azkaban and the aurors stationed there to be good enough protection. Following that, there's likely to be stubborn - and possibly lengthy - negotiation proceedings. The Minister will demand much in recompense."
The old Hermione would have been appalled at that and would've felt wretched that Dumbledore should go to such effort and potentially be put in a compromising position because of her. It still didn't sit completely right within her but her heart had hardened through these last months, and maybe it was worth more than a little sacrifice from Dumbledore to prevent Antonin from rejoining Voldemort. However, there was a chance this wouldn't just affect the headmaster. "He'll want Harry."
Dumbledore inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Most probably," he agreed. "You have borne witness more than once to the lengths the Minister is prepared to go to gain Harry's support. Should discussions between myself and the Ministry extend that far, we will then let Harry decide what he wishes to do."
Hermione frowned. She wished it wasn't necessary. They had held out for months against Scrimgeour's attempts to use Harry as a political tool. She hated that her situation might force Harry's hand into misleading the public about the true state of the war.
"I know you have strong feelings about the matter," Dumbledore continued in a somewhat softer tone. "And they do you great credit, Hermione. It is why I wished to discuss the possibility with you before I draft my letter."
He was giving her the chance to stop him. She half-wished that he hadn't because now she couldn't pretend that she didn't bear any responsibility for whatever followed. It was a weak thought but she was only human. Actions had consequences. She had forcibly rid herself of any self-pity in regards to the curse months ago. She had chosen of her own free will to go to the Ministry with Harry last summer, knowing how dangerous it might be. That choice had led her here. It was her responsibility.
"Thank you, sir," she said. "I appreciate what you are willing to do for me." And the fact that he apparently was prepared to fight for her loosened the tiniest knot of tension in her shoulders. Had Antonin's words convinced her of a deadly threat that wasn't really there? Surely it would be easier to dispose of Hermione than give in to Scrimgeour's demands and risk undermining the war? Did Dumbledore believe her life was worth that? Or… Was this all a ruse? The headmaster had already made a point about how difficult it would be to bring Antonin's transfer about. He could claim to have failed without even writing the initial letter - all to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him, to leave her more vulnerable to attack. Did he know of her suspicions? She again resisted the urge to look at Snape but the tension returned tenfold. She would not let them catch her off guard.
There was a knock at the door, making Hermione's heart jump in alarm at the unexpectedness of it. After a brief nod at Hermione to show that their meeting was over, Dumbledore called, "Enter."
"I've got it, Professor!" a familiar voice called as the door was enthusiastically thrown open.
Hermione and Harry stared at each other in shock.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, worry etched across his face. "What's happened?"
"Everything's fine," Hermione told him soothingly.
"Miss Granger was just giving me an update about the effects of the curse," Dumbledore added. "It has been some months since I've seen her."
Harry came closer to Hermione, looking round at them all with lingering worry and suspicion. "You're really, okay?"
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I promise. We've just finished." She could ask him what he was doing there but, with a clench of her heart, she knew it was something to do with his private lessons. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh." He still looked a little troubled. "Okay."
Hermione had left the office with McGonagall and Snape, wondering - despite all the other thoughts racing through her head - what the vial of strange liquid in Harry's hand had been.
Two weeks on, she had heard no update about Dumbledore's plan - she hadn't even seen him anywhere in the castle. After much deliberation, she had tentatively broached the subject with Snape on the walk down to the school gates for her previous session by enquiring whether the headmaster's plan to write to Scrimgeour had been genuine. Snape had fixed her with his intense stare and said with conviction, "Yes." Hermione was inclined to believe him - or at least that he believed that he was speaking the truth, but her doubts remained. She couldn't afford to trust anyone.
While she obviously couldn't say for certain that Antonin would be moved out of Azkaban, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about - and hoping for - that possibility. With Antonin under secure Order control, there was the chance that he might be kept from Voldemort's grasp forever.
It might save him just as much as it saved her.
If his new location was bound by a secret-keeping spell, known only to the smallest number of people possible and therefore his escape almost impossible, would he finally see that his path didn't have to be tied to Voldemort's? Would he take the opportunity to become his own man? The way Antonin had spoken about his upbringing recently had hinted that maybe he wasn't at peace with his past, that there were cracks beneath the surface. It would take a lot of time and patience on her part to undo a lifetime of conditioning, but he had already changed so much since they had first met. Could she displace the greed, power and hate that ruled him and help him find a new purpose to his life? She was willing to try.
All those thoughts had been running through her head as she'd stared at his Dark Mark. The two of them were tied together - maybe for weeks, months or even years. There was no point in her trying to hide from who he was, just as she knew it was pointless to fight the attraction between them. If she wanted to usurp Voldemort's hold over Antonin, every moment they shared was important, an opportunity to show him something different. Her choice to sit beside him, to continue kissing him after witnessing the Mark, told him that she saw his past but it didn't have to dictate his future. Their future - however long that may be.
Antonin's mouth was suddenly kissing along her jaw and she gasped in both surprise and delight at the burst of pleasure it sent through her. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts, her eyes fixed on his hands, that she hadn't noticed him leaning in towards her.
"Are you struggling, milaya?" he murmured between kisses.
She whimpered. Now that he was finally touching her, she realised how desperate she was for him. "I can't," she panted, pulling the quill from his grip and bringing his hand to her cheek. "I can't wait any longer. Please." The look in his eyes told her that he enjoyed her desperation but he eagerly responded to her plea, bringing his mouth round to hers and kissing her deeply.
When Hermione was so far gone with the curse, she was aware of little other than her state of bliss. Her body responded to him automatically, her movements without much conscious thought, only able to focus on what was happening and what she wanted for a few seconds at a time before becoming swept along in another wave of pleasure.
"More," she gasped as she tore her mouth from his so that she could breathe. "I need more." She pulled ineffectively at her tie but he brushed her hands away.
"Let me," he murmured breathlessly. "I want to do it. Buttons too."
"You're too slow," she complained. "I need more."
She nearly let out a cry of distress as he pulled away from her but he only did so to pull off his robe, revealing all that wonderfully bare skin underneath just ready for her fingers to roam over (and her eyes didn't even register the Mark this time). She was broken from her ogling of his torso when he pulled her up from her chair. As smoothly as if they had rehearsed it countless times before, Hermione found herself sitting astride his hips, her heated core flush against the hard length of him. His groan matched her cry of delight. Oh, it felt good. It felt so good to have that little bit of pressure right where her body had been craving it for weeks.
"Fuck, milaya," Antonin moaned, one hand at her waist, while the other stroked from her bare knee to a few inches up her thigh. "You feel fucking perfect. So fucking perfect pressed against me like that. Can you feel how hard you make me?" He bucked his hips, sending a spark of hot arousal shooting from her sex to the tip of her toes, making them curl in almost overwhelming pleasure. She whimpered and her hands dug in tighter at his shoulders.
He kissed her, and she wasn't sure if she was more disappointed or relieved that he didn't move his hips like that again, but once he started kissing down her neck, removing her tie and slowly licking and kissing at the skin that was revealed at each shirt button he undid, she stopped thinking anyway. Lost once more in her euphoria.
He kept talking - telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how delicious she tasted - but the words barely registered in her mind. When his touch reached her scar, her thighs tightened around his and she threw her head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much.
His voice was nothing but a buzz in her ears, as he worshipped her scar.
"You're mine, Hermione… You feel it too, I know you do… You belong to me… You and me, together… I'll deal with anyone who gets in our way… No one can stop us…"
His hand reached for her cheek, trying to get her to focus on him and not the way he was making her feel. "Tell me who the Order bastard is, milaya."
"Snape."
The name slipped out of her mouth, the words not even registering on her tongue, let alone her brain.
Antonin's body went rigid beneath her. "What?" Both hands were at her head, trying to bring her to clarity. "Hermione," he said sharply and she started to blink away the haze.
"What?" she questioned, unaware of what she had said, of why he was staring at her so intently.
"Snape."
"What?" she repeated in confusion. Why was he saying Snape's name? A trickle of fear ran down her spine.
"I asked you who the Order bastard was and you named Snape," Antonin said, watching her closely.
Horrified, Hermione pushed herself off of him. The all-consuming heat momentarily doused by icy dread. "N-no," she stammered. "I-I didn't know what I was saying - I didn't even hear the question!" Her voice had become a little hysterical in her panic. "Forget it, please," she urged him. "It's not true."
Antonin shook his head slowly, eyes still fixed to her face. "I don't think so, milaya."
Hermione barely resisted the urge to hide her head in her hands in despair. Oh Merlin, what had she done?
A/N We all love a cliffhanger, right?