A/N I told you I wouldn't make you wait long for this one - you're going to have your dose of Antonin, as promised.

Remember, this chapter follows on immediately from the previous one :)

The hesitant smile Granger greeted him with probably shouldn't have thrilled Antonin as much as it did - but he was finding the waits between her visits almost torturous and his mind often spiralled into doubts of one sort or another - so to have visual proof that she was pleased to see him and that he hadn't suffered some sort of setback was very satisfying. Plus, the shyness in her smile told him that what was developing between them made her nervous, that she still viewed him as somewhat forbidden. But that was more than okay because desires that were forbidden only became more potent, didn't they?

His blood fucking sang for her, sparking him back to life after days of a grey, empty half-existence. Just the sight of her was enough to quicken his pulse, ignite desire along his nerves, make his mouth water, get his fingers twitching in their desperation to touch her and fire up his imagination with all the sensual things he wanted to do to her. Though in truth, when she wasn't here, merely the thought of Granger was sufficient to bring out these reactions within him, temporarily banishing the purgatory he was forced to endure between her visits as he indulged in his smutty fantasies. But there was no comparison to having her really here in front of him.

Once the door was firmly shut, he closed the distance between them within a couple of strides. There was only time for her eyes to widen and her breath to hitch, before his hand was cupping her face and his lips descended eagerly to hers. She let out high-pitched noise - possibly brought about by her surprise at his actions, or maybe in response to receiving his soothing touch - but it was muffled by his mouth. Her delicate lips were still for a couple of seconds, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone, and then she came alive - pressing her mouth firmly against his, a more desperate sound emanating deeper in her throat, her hand grabbing a fistful of his robes at his chest -

A loud bang made them draw apart.

"Oh," she gasped and ducked down as Antonin looked for the source of the unexpected noise. She stood up, cheeks flaming, holding the book she'd borrowed from him the previous visit. "I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "I didn't mean to drop your book." She turned it over, running her fingers along it. "I don't think I damaged it."

"It's fine, milaya." It was on the tip of his tongue to say that it was only a book, but he knew that she didn't agree with that dismissive sentiment. He was far more interested in getting another taste of her.

Perhaps she could see the intent in his gaze because she averted her eyes and sidestepped him. "I haven't even got my cloak off yet," she chided over her shoulder as she put some distance between them, but the lingering look and quirk of her lips told him that she was secretly pleased by his eagerness.

"I've been waiting eight days to get my hands on you," he reminded her, his frustration evident in his tone, and watched heatedly as she fished the dream potion vial out of her pocket and placed it onto the desk, next to the book.

Again, she tried to hide her positive reaction to his words but Antonin was very good at reading her by now. "Well, there will be more of me to touch if you just give me a moment to get this off," she pointed out, her eyes making momentary contact with his before darting away as she focused on undoing the clasp of her cloak.

Antonin snorted lightly - had that been her attempt at flirting? Perhaps. He couldn't fault her reasoning though, and he watched intently as she removed her cloak, then her school robe, his hunger growing at each layer of clothing she laid neatly over the back of his chair. The cuffs of her pristine white shirt sleeves were already unbuttoned and she moved to roll them up.

"No," he called, closing in on her. She paused, shooting him a surprised look, her fingers hovering over her wrist. "Allow me."

She stared at him with wide eyes, her throat shifting as she swallowed, and then gave a wordless nod. With a light touch, he lifted one of her hands upwards until he could press his mouth to the centre of her palm. Her fingers spasmed, delivering ghosts of touches to the stubble at his jaw. When he replaced his lips with the smallest swipe of his tongue, her whole arm jerked and she gasped. "So sensitive, sweetheart," he chuckled, the Russian pleasantly thick from his throat. She let out a huff of air but made no attempt to tug herself free. He turned her hand over and slowly kissed along each finger.

She let out a small frustrated sigh. "You're going too slow. I -"

"In Russian," he interrupted, mouth still close to her hand. "I haven't heard you speak it for a few weeks."

Her grunt of frustration was even more pronounced this time. "I need more."

He clicked his tongue and smirked down at her. "They say that patience is a virtue, don't they?" He punctuated his question with a couple of open mouthed kisses that inched closer to her wrist. "Just hold on a little longer, firebird, and I'll make sure you're well rewarded."

She let out a huff that quickly turned into a whine when instead of beginning to push back her sleeve, he exchanged her left hand for the right and began the process again. "Antonin," she groused, her free hand grabbing at his arm.

He merely chuckled again and licked a line straight down her palm to the tip of her middle finger. He hummed. "Mmm, I can taste your wand on this hand." Her whole body shifted due to both his words and the sensations he seemed to be creating within her - fingers gripped even tighter into his arm, head tilted back a little, lip pulled between her teeth, chest swelling and falling, weight swaying restlessly from leg to leg, but her eyes stayed fixed on his. "What wood is it crafted from?"

"I - " she began, but abruptly stopped when he greedily went back for another lick down the side of her hand and along her little finger, where the base of her wand would rest. She could only gape at him. Fuck, he didn't think he'd ever get enough of the way his influence over her made him feel. The empowerment of it was addictive. He wasn't ever going to let her go once it was an option, once he was free from this cell.

"You were saying?" he prompted, with another smirk.

"Um…" She temporarily closed her eyes to get a hold of her thoughts. "I don't know the word for the wood in Russian."

He gave a little shrug. "English then." Again, just as she opened her mouth to respond, he indulged in another taste of her. This time, he used the entire flat of his tongue to cover her thumb and index finger. He fought the raw urge to close his mouth around her fingers, to suck and swirl his tongue around them, to graze them with his teeth. However much he wanted it, however significant the progress he'd made with her lately, he had to be so careful not to overdo it. She had said she wasn't ready (and though he knew she was referring to the actual act of intercourse itself, there were plenty of other sexual or lewd things that were equally off-limit for now for someone as inexperienced and virtuous as her) so he had to appear to respect that to ensure she gradually got exposed to what he wanted down the line - even though it was sexually frustrating the absolute hell out of him. Honestly, in the couple of weeks since she'd finally kissed him, his need to find release had probably tripled. The climaxes he had experienced within minutes of her departing from her last two visits were amongst the most fucking intense he'd ever had - clearly that's what nearly an hour of touching, kissing and denial of his own needs did to him.

He didn't know if she would let him push the boundaries more today. After admitting her unreadiness previously, he had thought it unwise to try anything more than guide her into how to kiss more sensually, no matter how damn much his fingers and tongue had desperately wanted to claim more of her. Tonight, though, with the way he was teasing and riling her up, he might be able to push for more so long as he didn't get carried away and give in to his baser urges. So instead of taking her fingers into his mouth, he made sure she was still gazing at him and slowly licked his lips. "Mmmm. You taste so delicious, milaya."

He heard her breath catch in her throat, and then she glanced away, her face even more flushed than usual. He kissed the back of each finger as he waited for her to recover. A few seconds later she cleared her throat. "Um, it's vine. My wand."

Intrigued, Antonin lifted his head a little so that his mouth was no longer flush against her hand. "Vine," he repeated with a murmur."How interesting. That's quite an uncommon wand choice."

Her gaze returned, eyes travelling over his face and she gave a half smile. " know all about wands now, do you?"

He gave a little shrug. "I wouldn't say I'm an expert but I have studied wand lore." He traced his fingers around her wrist."I've found that it can be quite…" He pushed at the cuff, forcing the fabric up towards her elbow as his touch slid along the creamy skin of her forearm. "…revealing about the witch or wizard a particular wand is paired with."He started to languidly kiss up her freshly exposed skin. "The wand chooses you, milaya," he quoted. "Didn't old Olivander tell you that when you picked out your wand?" She hummed her confirmation, intently watching his progress, and her fingers lightly scratched across his jaw as he advanced along her arm. "There's a reason someone matches with that particular wand and if you take the time to study the properties of the woods and cores, it can give you a valuable insight into that witch or wizard, even if they're a complete stranger."

Through her hazy gaze, he could tell that she was trying to concentrate on his words. "But… aren't there dozens of wand woods?" she asked.

He lifted his head away from her arm but she kept her fingers curled around his neck. He smirked, and raised a self-satisfied eyebrow. "Exactly - most wouldn't bother learning them, which gives me an advantage," he explained, hands moving to settle on her waist. His fingers moulded around her curves while his thumbs traced back and forth over the front of her hips. "It tells me about their temperament and any weaknesses within the wand that I might be able to exploit."

He wasn't sure if she was trying to force his head closer to hers (he could feel pressure at the nape of his neck but it didn't feel excessive) or if they were naturally being pulled together, but their lips were suddenly only a few inches apart.

"That's…smart," she murmured, her large doe-eyes staring into his. "Clever of you, tactically."

He chuckled lowly and closed the gap a little further. "A compliment? That's a rarity." He could feel her hot breath fanning over his lower face, her fingers were digging in harder at his arm and neck. He nudged her nose with his own and she let out the faintest whine. "Sounds good coming out of these pretty lips of yours." She tilted her face up ever so slightly so that their mouths met and he tried not to grin - he fucking loved it when she was the one who instigated a kiss.

When he had greeted her by the door, that kiss had been hot and eager - even if it had only lasted a few seconds before Granger had dropped the book. This one was slower, sensual and savoured. Antonin moved his lips against her more like a caress, the pressure rising and falling. Just as he'd taught her last time, she followed his lead, matching his intensity until she was pulling away, gasping breathlessly. "You've got to remember to breathe, milaya," he reminded her, a little amused. She made a humming noise of confirmation as she kissed him quickly three times, inhaling sharp breaths between each one.

"Does this…feel…good…for you?" she asked, between further kisses.

Despite the glorious distraction of her lips, the question took him by surprise and he opened his eyes as he pulled back, shaking his head a bit. What the fuck? "Does it not for you?"

Her gaze was heavy-lidded as she tried to focus on him. "Yes, of course," she said absently, as though it was a given, and he relaxed slightly. "But I don't know if I'm doing this wrong." She glanced away, looking bashful, but he reached up and lightly tugged her chin so that she was looking at him again. "I've never asked you what you like," she murmured, giving a little shrug.

Fuck. "You want to please me." His words came out huskily, mouth going dry at the mental images that suddenly sprung up. A surge of hot desire pulsed low in his belly, making his already straining cock almost throb with need. Would she ever stop surprising him? How had they progressed so quickly to this? But, wait, no - she wasn't suddenly devoted to him, desperate to fulfil all his sexual desires. That wasn't what this was. The potency of his touch hadn't just made her throw caution to the wind and flipped her personality in a couple of weeks. He knew her better than that - this was about her need to achieve and succeed - to be good at anything that she thought mattered. Afterall, he'd seen her react positively to praise from him before about her academics, and he knew that she was top in her year. Maybe it only made sense that she was eager to score top marks in sex too. So, no, her wish to please him wasn't some selfless act but he hardly cared because in the end, it would result in the same thing - once he'd gotten her ready to try, she was going to be a biddable cock-hungry fuck, desperate to fulfill his every whim so long as he told her she was doing a good job.

Another rush of arousal urged him to finally rid himself of his restraints and take what was his - she wanted to please him, didn't she? But he couldn't. He had to be so fucking careful. Her having a fondness for approval didn't mean he could just do whatever the fuck he wanted. She was still Granger. She would have limits - now and down the line. He mustn't ever forget that.

Her eyes widened at his statement. "No," she denied quickly and then grimaced. "I don't… I mean - I… Maybe…?"

He stroked soothing fingers over her cheek and fought down a chuckle because he didn't think she'd appreciate it in her worked-up state. "No need to panic, zhar-ptitsa. And in answer to your original question - yes, it feels good. It feels so fucking good - is that not obvious?"

She let out a shaky breath. "I just… wanted to be sure. I know it's only kissing and not -" She glanced down towards his groin, "that…" Antonin felt another spike of lust and the hand at her hip tightened with need - how was she able to ignite him so fiercely with just a look and a word, a mere suggestion of them having sex? "… but whatever we're doing, now or much later, I want to know that I'm doing it right," she said, her face flushed with colour. Each word was drawing him closer to her mouth. "For you."

Antonin teasingly brushed his lips over hers, letting her words sink into his skin. She tried to chase his mouth, seeking more pressure, but he held her in place and drew his head back a little to see her eyes. "You want to know what I like?" he asked, voice low, soft and seductive.

She shifted restlessly beneath him and pulled the side of her bottom lip between her teeth, but her gaze didn't stray from his as she nodded wordlessly.

He responded with a deep, approving hum and brushed the backs of his fingers down her throat before resuming his hold at her jaw. "For now, it's quite simple, milaya," he told her, delivering a quick kiss to her blush lips before pulling back once more. She let out a frustrated whimper at his teasing and he smirked. "I like how you respond to me. My touch, my voice, my words. I like the noises you make, the way you shudder and squirm, how your fingers grip onto me." He let out a breath of laughter as she consciously or unconsciously did all those things. "Yes," he hissed, "Just like that." His kisses were more demanding this time, worked up by the heady atmosphere between them, and she matched him in his eagerness. He parted his lips and teased his tongue across her lower lip, making her gasp. "I like to taste you," he panted, kissing along her jaw and she moaned beautifully. "Your skin, your scar, your lips - wherever you'll let me." He returned his kisses to her mouth and momentarily tugged her bottom lip between his own. "I like that you're trusting me to show you what feels good. To teach you. Like this, milaya." He repeated his teasing action with his tongue and when she parted her lips this time, he crossed the threshold, gently stroking the tip of his tongue against hers. The fingers she had gripped in the hair at the back of his neck weakened temporarily, almost fluttering in his curled strands, then her hold was back even tighter than before and she started tentatively moving her tongue too. This time Antonin's approval came out more like a growl deep in his chest and he pulled her closer, hand snug into the small of her back with his fingers splayed to cover as much of her arse as he could reach.

She pulled away a few seconds later, gasping in a breath as her chest heaved.

"Fuck - you taste so fucking good," he told her, kissing down her neck and nuzzling his jaw against hers. "So perfect. Just for me."

Both of her hands pulled at his face, to bring him back to her, and he noticed that one of her arms was still covered by her sleeve. No wonder she was so desperate for his kisses - he was barely giving her any relief from the curse's burning. That was hardly a problem for him but he decided to help her out - they couldn't carry on kissing for the entirety of the session because he didn't want to risk the aurors or anyone at the school catching sight of something suspicious in her appearance. Perhaps he could convince her to lose the whole shirt and he could focus his attention on what lay underneath instead. Her breasts, her scar… His mouth salivated at the prospect.

She wavered as he removed his steadying hold at her back but his grip on her arm was strong enough as pushed her remaining sleeve up to her elbow. She gasped at the action and Antonin stilled. Her features hadn't expressed the expected pleasure but pain. It had been fleeting but it was so opposed to what he'd anticipated from her that it could hardly be mistaken.

He looked down at her arm then lifted it for a closer inspection.

"What are you doing?" she asked but he didn't reply.

Antonin could see nothing at her wrist nor along either side of her forearm. He gave an experimental squeeze of the hand that he still had at the bunched fabric at her elbow and her face flickered with a lesser indication of pain.

His gaze was locked on hers. "It's nothing," she told him in response to his silent question, and tried to pull her arm from his grasp. He held on, careful not to hurt her. "Antonin," she began, but he ignored her and returned his attention to her elbow. The white material was obscuring the source of her pain so he pushed it as far up her arm as it would go.

Bruises. Very recent and, therefore, faint. Finger-shaped bruises. Angry eyes flew up to hers. "Someone has grabbed you."

"It's nothing," she repeated.

"To bruise you through all those layers of fabric?" he retorted hotly and shook his head. "I don't think so, milaya."

"It was an accident," she insisted. "He didn't even realise - "

"He?" Antonin broke in quickly, latching onto the word. "One of those idiot boys?" Visions of killing Potter and Weasley swam before his eyes.

"No, it wasn't Harry or Ron." She was glaring at him, probably annoyed that he'd insulted her friends but she had known who he meant so wasn't that rather indicative? He reluctantly halted the vengeful fantasies and turned his mind to who else could be responsible.

"Anyway," she continued. "It doesn't matter. You're overreacting."

"The Order bastard," he said.

There was the slightest hesitation before she said, "I don't know who you mean."

"Oh, you know exactly who I mean," he replied. "The one who's been lying and trying to manipulate you. Did you confront him? Is that why he did this - he got angry when you called his bluff?"

She shook her head. "No, that's not what happened."

"So it was him?"

"No."

"You're lying, zhar-ptitsa," he accused, "I can see it in your eyes, just like I told you you'd be able to see it in his." She glanced away but that only made him more certain. "Did you confront him? Tell me."

"Yes," she whispered, still avoiding his gaze. "A couple of weeks ago."

A couple of weeks? All that time and yet she still lived. Was he wrong? Or was the grim stalking her even as they spoke, waiting for the right moment to pounce? "And?" he prompted. "Did you see it?" The delay in her response was an answer in itself. If she'd felt truly protected by the Order she would be racing to jam it down his throat. "Oh, milaya. I told you. I warned you." He lowered her bruised arm and drew her face into his hands. She refused to look at him. "There is only you and me. You might not want to see it right now but give it time and you will know the full truth of what I say." He kissed her stubborn mouth and then drew away. "Come, I have work to do."

He completely removed his touch and, somewhat surprisingly, she followed biddably - perhaps in her shock or curiosity at his words. "Work?" she questioned as he pulled out the chairs at the desk for each of them.

"I know you haven't had enough relief but I'm going to need all the time I can get before you have to leave, so I'll multitask." He pulled the rune book that she'd brought back closer and a number of sheets of parchment, quill and ink as he took his seat.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She lifted a piece of parchment that was filled with his notes and calculations. "You're working on a spell. The counter for the curse?"

He only just held back a derisive snort. "No. I told you - I've done all I can for the curse."

"So this is a new spell?" she asked, sliding into the chair and lining up her body alongside his.

"Yes." The last time he had started work on a new spell was before his first imprisonment in Azkaban. Even if inspiration had struck in those torturous years with the dementors, he'd had no method of exploring any possibilities. During his brief taste of freedom last year, he had been uninspired; swinging between periods of intense listlessness and rage-filled outbursts as he struggled to adapt to life beyond Azkaban. Since the idea for this spell had taken hold in the wake of her last visit, he had worked ceaselessly, only taking breaks to sleep or indulge in his Granger-filled fantasies. He hadn't been as invigorated as he was when she was here (life without her was still a pale reflection) but it had felt good to have a purpose again instead of just languishing in his cell.

"What is it supposed to do?" she asked. He could feel her gaze trying to take in as much as possible from his various jottings.

He didn't look up from the index of the runes book, eyes scanning for the pages he needed. "Protect you."

For a few seconds there was only the sound of him rapidly turning the pages until he found what he was looking for. He pulled his supplies closer, ready to start his checks. "I can manage with one hand now," he said, turning his head to hers. "You can rest your arms here," he suggested, gesturing to the table, and then swayed his hand away, "or would you rather I was at your back?" His hand rose higher and slid through her hair so that his fingers could curl around and stroke the back of her neck. "What about here?" he proposed.

Her head automatically drooped forwards, giving him some access to the skin beneath her collar, which he happily explored. "That's… that's quite distracting," she said, using movements that looked like she was pushing through treacle to remove his arm. Granger was probably right, he wasn't sure he'd be able to fully concentrate with that hand placement. She scooted a little closer to him. "I think maybe my back might be best but I want to know more about this spell first."

Antonin shrugged. "It's quite simple, milaya. Your life is in danger from your hypocritical Order and if they decide that the time is right to kill you, then there is nothing that I can do about it stuck in this cell. Even if you are alert to the danger, there may be very little you can do either - they won't strike through obvious means. The upstanding citizens within your ranks can't be seen murdering a schoolgirl. They will be cunning and calculating. Vigilance might not be enough to save you." She was staring at him with wide eyes but, for once, she was quiet. "With this spell, I am endeavouring to give you a chance. It's the best I can do - and there's no guarantee that it will work. Without access to my wand, you will have to be the one to test it and hone it." He gestured to his notes. "I've worked on it as much as I can and now that you've brought this book back I can make my final checks on the runes. After that, it's up to you."

"But what does it do? How does it work?" she asked, and he noticed that she wasn't denying her need for greater protection.

"It's a charm. Once cast on an object - something you might wear, like a watch or a bracelet - it will attract and absorb a spell cast at you without you suffering any of its effects." Her mouth parted in surprise. "It's only powerful enough to work once. As soon as it has absorbed one spell, the charm will be broken - though on some powerful spells it might not work at all."

"But if someone attacked me when I wasn't prepared, it might give me the time to escape, defend myself or fight back," she said slowly.

He nodded. "Like I said, it gives you a chance - assuming that we can get it to work."

"Antonin, that's brilliant," she said earnestly.

"Two compliments," he teased, reaching a hand up to stroke over her cheek before kissing her briefly. "What an evening this is turning out to be!"

She gave him a faux-offended scowl and sniffed. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He ran his hand across her back. "You could let me under here," he suggested.

"Oh. Yes."

He watched hungrily as she started to pull the bottom of the shirt out from the waistband of her skirt. "And you can tell me how you got those bruises."

She shot him a quick glance. "He wasn't trying to hurt me."

"I would be more reassured if I knew the context, even if you won't tell me who it is," he persisted. Many times he had gone through the male members of the Order that might theoretically fit: Dumbledore, Moody, Shacklebolt, Lupin, Weasley and his eldest son, but he couldn't pin the bastard down.

She sighed. "He thought I might have told you an Order secret," she said and he watched her face closely for evidence of deceit.

"What Order secret?" She sent him a flat look which told him that she wasn't going to fall for that. He shrugged. "Worth a try. Why would he think you'd blabbed?"

She frowned. "The war has everyone on edge. There's a lot at stake."

So the Dark Lord was gaining strength. That was some good news. All he had to do was keep Granger alive for a little while longer. His master must be ready to release him soon - after all, he'd already done so once and his power and influence had seemingly grown since then. Once he was free, his zhar-ptitsa would never have to be out of reach again. She would be his completely. The only difficulty would be getting his hands on her in the first place. From the moment he was loose from Azkaban, she would be in her greatest peril - not from him and his Lord because Antonin was going to do what he could to get back alive what belonged to him - but from the Order. She would soon start burning for him, and those that knew the risks Potter would take to protect her would rather she was dead than their boy-hero be compromised into doing something foolish. That was going to be a very tricky time indeed. He would have to think further on it. For now, this spell was perhaps her greatest chance of escaping that fate.

He half stood from his seat to grab more of his notes and placed them in front of her. "Well, if you really want to help, you could check some of these arithmancy calculations."

She nodded. "Alright." She reached for a quill of her own but it fell from her fingers as he slid his hand underneath her shirt and stroked over the hot, smooth skin of her back. He smirked and turned back to his runes.

Antonin worked quickly, determined to be as confident in his spellcrafting as he could be before he handed it over to her for the practical tests. After a few minutes, he noticed that she had only made a half-dozen quill strokes on the blank parchment in front of her. She had her eyes closed and a blissful expression on her face as his fingers absentmindedly traced up and down her spine. Grinning, he leaned in close and kissed at the corner of her mouth. "How's it going, milaya?"

"You're too distracting for arithmancy at the moment," she murmured, not even opening her eyes.

He laughed and kissed her again, capturing more of her lips that time. "I can always stop," he suggested, pulling his hand away from her silky skin to rest against the inside of her shirt instead.

Her eyes snapped open. "No. I- I'm sure the curse will ease off soon and then I'll be able to concentrate."

He chuckled and gave her another quick kiss before he got back to work. By the time he dropped his quill in semi-satisfaction, there was a completed calculation on her parchment but he'd seen her do a similar one in less than a minute before so his touch was clearly still holding quite a sway over her attention.

"I'm done."

"Do you think it'll work?" she asked, running her eyes over the various notes and runes.

"I'm as sure as I can be theoretically but putting a spell into practice is very different," he admitted. "Sometimes it runs smoothly, sometimes you have to take everything apart and try again or give up. Spellcraft is a very fickle business and I've never had to work everything out on parchment before conducting any trial spells before." He removed his hand from her back, breaking all physical contact between them. "I'm going to talk you through what you need to know and there are a couple of books you can take with you that will hopefully be able to guide you through any adjustments you might need to make if the spell gives you problems." She nodded, her gaze fully alert, and he was satisfied that she was going to be able to take in everything he had to tell her.

"…so the most helpful thing for me would be for you to make notes as you test it so that I can make further suggestions if we haven't cracked it by the time you return for your next visit," he concluded.

"I will," she agreed. "The Easter holidays start in a couple of days so I should have more opportunity to work on it. I'll be discreet, don't worry," she added as he opened his mouth to request just that.

"Good," he said instead.

She gave him a half-smile and then stood so that she could tuck her shirt in and sort out her sleeves. He watched, glum at the thought of her wonderfully sensitive skin being hidden away from him again. "You never told me about my wand."

"Hmm?" he asked, reluctantly lifting his gaze from her arse.

"You said you know all about the different wand woods but you didn't tell me what you know about vine apart from it being less commonly used for wand-making," she said, running her hands down her skirt to make sure she'd tucked everything in properly.

"Very well. It is said that witches and wizards who choose vine are invariably those who have a sense of greater purpose - a vision beyond the ordinary, if you will," he said. "Plus, they often have hidden depths to their personality, frequently taking those that think they know them by surprise."

She gazed at him thoughtfully as she tugged down one sleeve and then the other. "And you think that matches me?"

"Don't you?" he countered, because from what he knew of her he thought she made a very apt pairing with vine.

She shrugged. "Maybe."

Perhaps she was feigning modesty. "Can I guess your wand core?"

"Alright," she said as she started to pull on her school robe. "You do have a one-in-three chance of guessing it correctly so I'm not going to be overly impressed if you get it."

"I misspoke. I want to tell you your core. I know it, it's not a guess," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. What is it?"

"Dragon."

Her expression didn't even flicker. "And how did you know?"

"So, I'm correct?"

"You said you knew."

"Then that means I'm correct, doesn't it, milaya?"

She gave a noisy sigh and picked up her cloak. "Yes, you're correct. How did you know?"

"You're a quick learner, both academically and in casting spells - you wouldn't be top of your year otherwise. Dragon wands tend to learn quicker than other types, and they're better suited to more flamboyant spells as well. Powerful, too. It fits you," he explained as he rose to his feet.

She frowned. "Thank you?"

"It's only my observations," he replied. "Here." He handed her the bundle of parchments about the new spell and the books that might help her, which all disappeared into the same pocket.

"It's enchanted," she explained in response to his silent question.

"Smart," he murmured. They were standing very close together but neither took a step back.

"Another observation?" she asked.

"A compliment," he corrected, and ducked his head so that he could kiss her. He hated the idea of letting her go. Why did their time together have to be so fucking short and his time alone so unbearably long?

Granger pulled away first, which he knew was the sensible thing to do when she was about to be amongst other people again, but it still made him want to rage and curse. She ran her eyes down herself and then gave him a questioning look.

He swiped his thumb across her lips, collecting the remains of any moisture then said, "You look fine."

She nodded, murmured a farewell, and then she was stepping out of the door. He was alone once more.

Well, well, well. A dragon heartstring core. The wand that was easiest to turn to the Dark Arts.

But he could dwell on that and everything else later. He ran the heel of his hand down the almost painful bulge in his trousers and let loose a guttural groan. Right now, he had some pleasurable business to take care of.

A/N I really hope you liked this one. I'm quite fond of it, personally.

I used the official info on wandlore in regards to vine and dragon heartstring, so that was fun to play around with how Antonin views her.

I have seen online that a popular trope in enemies-to-lovers is 'Who did this to you?' so the Snape bruises were my take on that!

Hope you're all well.