A/N Unprecedented mid-week update because I felt like it!
It took a long time for the afterglow of Hermione's visit to wear off. Antonin didn't leave his bed for hours. Basking in his glorious success, enveloped by the lingering scent of her, relishing in the fact that he could still feel the extra warmth she'd brought to his sheets, and his mind giddily reliving the heady sights and sounds of her stay - a feverish release shortly after her departure was not enough to sate his overpowering lust and he took the time to luxuriate in his own pleasure over and over again.
The scar. He'd finally got to experience her scar again. It was even better than he'd lived in his daydreams, and not just because of the thrill at knowing that it was fucking real - the tangible sensation of his magic existing within her, calling out to him, responding to his touch with a hum of energy against his lips, tongue and fingertips, proving his claim on her as every kiss, lick and caress had her writhing and squirming in pleasure, her moans and cries the most beautiful music.
The burn of her curse would've been soothed long before she left but they had remained on his bed anyway, both content for him to continue tracing and stroking her scar and her fingers carding through his hair, even if her reactions had faded in their intensity over time. Sure, he'd been horny as hell, but he'd also been content for the first time in… he couldn't actually remember. That didn't mean to say that he didn't want more - there was still so much more he wanted from her and his life - but he was satisfied with his progress, his mind momentarily at peace. It had felt good.
The comedown hadn't resulted in as deep a low as he usually experienced in her absence, maybe because a couple of fast flowing days had already passed by that point (and the satisfaction of knowing he had managed to manipulate fucking time to his will was still quite sweet) and he knew it wouldn't be too long before Hermione was there once again.
He was struck with no new spell inspirations so he spent most of his time reading, mentally making note of what he could expose her to over the next few weeks to further her education that she wouldn't reject as being outright dark magic. If it had only taken her a couple of days to overcome her strong objections to experimenting with dangerous time magic, he held out hope that with careful management he could turn her to the Dark Arts down the line. He had to make these extra hours together count. He was still sure that his Lord was planning to release him soon - it had been nearly ten months. What possible reason could there be to delay the bolstering of the Dark Lord's ranks that he and his fellow inmates would provide? It was the moment that he was anticipating but he was more than aware that it might lead to Hermione slipping through his fingers. If he could continue to prepare her, to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him but every reason to escape from that fucking Order, then he might be able to get everything he wanted - his freedom and his witch.
He clamped down on all mental mockery of that word - freedom - because it was pointless. Nobody was truly free in this world anyway. Everyone had to pay their fucking price.
It was her fault that those unwelcome thoughts kept popping up in his mind. He thought he'd gotten over his futile questioning of his identity a couple of months ago but, to his annoyance, Hermione's questions about the Nott boy had disturbed his shored-up defences.
But at least that should be the end of the matter on her part because he'd finally gotten through to her about the reality of his past. Hopefully now she would stop hinting from her sanctimonious high horse that he should look back on his life with regrets. His future had only ever been leading in one direction. Regrets implied a wrong choice but he'd had none. He didn't find that nearly as upsetting as she clearly did because what was the fucking point of that? He could do nothing to change what had happened. Not to mention that if the Dark Lord was victorious, Antonin would likely end up leading a much more pleasant life than the majority of those not currently residing on this island. It was where you finished that mattered, not how you got there. And if the outcome of that honest talk with Hermione resulted in him having unrestricted access to her scar from now on then it seemed like a fair trade to him.
The rest of her body would succumb to him soon and with the way she'd been looking at him lately, he might even claim her heart not long after.
His long-term aim had always been to get her hooked on him, addicted to the pleasure she received from his touch. The potency of the relief would do all the work for him and it almost didn't matter what she thought of him because she'd still have to keep coming back for more. Indeed, their early encounters had been so antagonistic that he would've thought it impossible that they might ever get to the place where he was seriously pondering whether he could make her fall in love with him. He knew that she certainly liked him a lot more than she used to - but love? That was another matter, and something he'd never concerned himself with before.
Just as with most other aspects of his life, he had always known that the choice regarding his future wife wouldn't be his, and in this case his mother and father would have been the ones to settle on a bride they approved of - though if the Dark Lord had had someone in mind, his parents would not have argued, no matter who it was. So Antonin - his primary focus on creating new spells to best serve his Lord - had never bothered thinking of love. He might learn to love the woman he married, just like his parents had done, or he might end up merely tolerating her. He hadn't been particularly concerned. Afterall, love was merely a weakness that was easily exploited by one's enemies, and the Dark Lord cautioned against such in his followers. Instead, Antonin had found women to have fun with, but it'd never been more than a few fucks with no feelings involved on his end. He hadn't cared about their feelings or emotions, never tried to make them happy beyond getting them to agree to spread their legs. In his early twenties, his mother had planned to summer in her home country, with Antonin to join her for a couple of weeks towards the end of the season to find a potential match, but the Prewetts had put paid to that.
With Hermione's body now beginning to yield to him, was it worth trying to play for her heart? He was already going to achieve his ultimate goal, wasn't he? But it was another aspect of her to claim, another part - and surely the most difficult to obtain - that would be his. The victory complete. His dominance assured.
So how did one go about making a woman fall in love with them? He knew about the cliches - the flowers, the poetry, the sunkissed romantic walks, the twilit dinners. Even if Antonin wasn't restricted by his incarceration, he still would have been reluctant to fulfil some of those obligations. Poetry? There was no fucking way. But he must be doing something right because his zhar-ptitsa had notably softened towards him over the last weeks. She no longer bothered to portray indifference behind her mental shields, conversing with her was easier, her smiles more frequent, her touches more tender. The increased physicality would've played its part with that, as would their academic discussions, but was that enough to foster love? Inexperienced as he was, he still didn't think so. And it wasn't lost on him that he had to fight against the fact that she wouldn't want to fall in love with him. Even though her entire future was tied to him, he knew he wasn't her idea of the perfect romantic partner. Hermione would want someone sweet, brave and noble. Those were characteristics that Antonin would never possess and, in less volatile times, he might think that an apt match for her. But not only had she changed these last few months, the world around her was set to turn on its head when the Dark Lord was victorious. What good would the sort of man she wanted be then? Bravery was merely one foolish step away from recklessness; noble principles were no protection from the Dark Lord's merciless forces; a sweet temperament wouldn't survive long under the onslaught of war. No, what she needed was someone who wasn't hindered by the moral debate of right or wrong to do what was necessary to keep her safe, someone with the nous to help them both survive in a changing world. And no matter whether they were in a time of peace or war she'd grow bored without someone to push and challenge her intellectually. Where Antonin might be lacking in other areas, he could offer her all that and more. He'd created a whole damn spell just to try and keep her safe, opened her eyes to the threats and hypocrisy of the Order, and he'd kill every single fucking one of them when he escaped if they tried to stop him getting hold of what was his.
As for his own heart, Antonin knew he was in no danger there. What he felt for Hermione was not love - it was an obsession. Even if he'd not experienced romantic love before, he knew this wasn't it. His motivations were always selfish. Even when it appeared he was acting with her in mind, it was only ever to serve his own ends. He was no fool for love.
But he was prepared to fake it a little in front of Hermione if it helped him get what he wanted.
"What's this?" Hermione asked when he presented her with a book upon her next arrival.
"I started sorting through my books the other day and when I saw this one I thought of you," he replied, watching her gently run her fingers over the front before flipping it over to read the details on the back. "It's rare - been in my father's family for generations. I know that it's in Russian but I thought it might be a good challenge for you to put your language skills to the test." There was only a slight narrowing of her eyes to show she was focusing harder on what he was saying but he could see that she understood the Russian. From behind his back, he pulled a couple of sheets of parchment. "I've already translated the first few chapters if you need help with the odd phrase or technical word."
Her eyes lit up in surprise. "Antonin! You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged modestly. "It's given me something useful to do to pass the time."
She smiled, looking briefly back down at the book before returning her warm gaze to him. "Thank you - both for your translation and for trusting me with something important to you." She hesitated a moment before rising on her toes to chastely kiss him. Caught by surprise by her affection, Antonin was only just in time to place a hand at her hip to hold her in place. His lips chased hers as she pulled back, making her whimper when he tried to deepen it. She stepped out of his hold with a gasp then breathlessly said, "I- I don't want to drop the book."
Antonin chuckled at her priorities and fondly watched her walk to the desk to take the book to safety. "I actually have something for you as well," she said over her shoulder. "It's not as special as this though so don't get too excited."
Intrigued, he followed her, placing his translated pages back with the rest and watched as she started pulling items out of her enchanted pocket. "You brought me your homework?" he asked, eyeing with nostalgia the textbooks she'd pulled out after his sleep potion. "I think you'll find that would be cheating, milaya, and I'm sorry but I don't feel comfortable breaking the rules like that."
"Funny," she said dryly and continued to root around in the pocket. "I hope it's not broken," she murmured. "I bought it a few weeks ago. Ah, got it." She pulled out her hand and held out a brightly coloured oval object. "It's Orthodox Easter today. I don't know if you had any particular custom to celebrate but, well, here. Happy Easter."
She transferred the gaudily-wrapped chocolate egg to him and he stared at it in surprise.
"I didn't know if you'd want one with magical effects or not, Honeydukes had a few, but I got you a plain one to be safe," she added as she took off her cloak.
The gesture didn't meet the same level of thoughtfulness as her Christmas gift, but he was still mildly astonished that she had thought of him whilst carrying on with her life beyond these walls: out shopping with her friends in Hogsmeade she had seen the confectionary and made the effort to buy something for him, holding it in reserve for this day. "Thank you. I actually have quite a sweet tooth…" He looked up from the egg, saw what she was wearing and a pulse of heated lust had his cock twitching with arousal. Her cream coloured t-shirt seemed tighter than usual, the curve of her breasts tantalisingly outlined by the fabric and a little bump showed the hidden time-flow pendant. But the centre of her breasts were covered by thick straps that were attached to the waistband of her black trousers and stretched over her back and out of sight. If Antonin wanted to access her scar this time, he was going to have to peel or push those straps aside and untuck her top from the high waist of her trousers. "…but frankly, milaya, I'd rather eat you."
She gave him a bemused look and laughed. "Eat me?"
He hummed low in confirmation, enjoying the vibration in his lips. "Do you not know what that means?"
Her expression became slightly suspicious. "No." So pure, so innocent, just waiting for him.
The cautious voice in his head telling him to back off was ignored in favour of his eager wish to push her just a little to see how she reacted. He placed the chocolate egg on the desk and took a step towards her but still left a little room between them in case she reacted negatively. "It means I want to put my head between your legs and lick - " She gasped loudly, her eyes very wide before she looked away. " - and kiss your cunt until you come apart on my tongue."
The words hung hot and heavy in the air between them. Antonin could feel the blood thudding strongly in his head and chest as he awaited her response. She hadn't slapped him or backed away in horror, so that was a big positive.
Her head was still averted though, her eyes cast down. "Oh," she murmured.
He waited for more but when a couple of seconds of silence passed, he said, "Oh?" He chuckled in an attempt to ease any worries she had. "Is that all you can say, milaya?"
She opened her mouth as though to respond, hesitated, closed it again and gave a little shrug.
Antonin blinked in genuine surprise. "I can't ever recall you being speechless before." He took another couple of steps towards her to close the gap and her eyes flew up to him, her shoulders tense. He held his hands up reassuringly. "It's only sex. It's nothing to be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid," she claimed but the confident tone she'd started that sentence with wilted away at Antonin's sceptical raised eyebrow and she pressed her lips together. He smoothed his expression and placed his hands on her shoulders to ensure he wasn't touching her skin.
"I only want to take care of you, to bring us the pleasure we both crave. I am not going to hurt you, Hermione," he told her, looking her dead in the eye and trying to let her hear the sincerity in his voice - because he was being honest. He had absolutely no intention of harming her.
"I - I know that," she said.
He took a moment to savour a sweet rush of victory then said, "Then what is it that unsettles you so?" She held his gaze for a couple of seconds, and he could tell that she was deliberating within herself but then she looked away again. "Tell me," he prompted gently, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over her shoulders. "Let me help you. They say that fears that are locked away only grow stronger."
She silently considered his words then grimaced and sighed. "I don't like not knowing what to expect," she said, her voice quiet and reluctant before she glanced up at him. "It's different for you - you've done it before." She paused, her demeanour faltering and she looked at him quizzically. "I mean, I assume you've… had sex before?"
He bit back a smile at her awkward questioning. "Yes."
She nodded. "Well, I like to be prepared for whatever situation I'm facing."
"Why?" he posed, even though what she'd said hadn't surprised him at all.
She stared at him as though she'd never heard that word before. "It's just the way I am," she said eventually, her brow furrowing. "I suppose it gives me comfort and reassurance."
"You don't experience a thrill stepping into the unknown? A rush at the unexpected?" he asked and she pulled a conflicted expression. "Sometimes thinking too much before a leap just makes it worse, milaya, getting caught up in your own head when you don't need to." He was sorely tempted to lift his fingers to her cheek but he refused to give her any grounds to accuse him of using his touch to influence her in what felt like a pivotal discussion.
She nodded. "Yes, I know but I enjoy myself in new situations more when I'm relaxed and, for me, that comes with being informed. My brain can switch off when I know what to expect. But that's been hard to do in terms of us…"
" …having sex?" he finished after she trailed off.
She nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "I feel like I don't really know enough to feel comfortable about it yet. I have talked to one of my friends - I didn't give her specifics though," she added quickly before Antonin could even ask. Antonin briefly wondered who this female friend could be because Hermione had only ever mentioned the youngest Weasley, and though he knew it wasn't impossible that it was her, he thought it unlikely. "She answered some of my questions and gave me some advice, which was useful and reassuring," she said, though her expression became frustrated, "even if there are still many unknowns. It's not like I can look sex up in a book."
Antonin gave a little snort. "Sure you can."
She looked at him in astonishment. "What?"
He shrugged. "To be fair, 'book' is probably too generous a term for that sort of publication. Very enlightening though if you want to get an actual look at sex."
"A dirty book?" she all but spluttered. "You can't be serious?!"
"Why not? You said you wanted to know more," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "And if the students of your day are anything like the ones in mine, there will definitely be some pornography exchanging hands in those dormitories. It probably wouldn't be that difficult for you to get your hands on some even if they are a bit used."
"No," she said shortly, face still red, and he tried not to laugh.
Then an idea struck him that might just give her what she wanted. "Well, what about using one of your daydream charms?" he suggested and he instantly found himself getting hot at the thought of her living out her sexual fantasies like he had. "You can see it in front of your eyes - live it if you want to." He knew damn fucking well how true that was.
She shook her head. "The self-directed ones don't work like that. Your brain, your imagination does almost all the work and if there are any large gaps in your knowledge then your mind can't accurately fill them in any more than it does in normal daydreams." She lifted a hand to his face and he felt her tremble at the impact of the contact on her curse. "Thank you for listening, for trying to help me. I think it's just going to be a matter of time and patience for me to get more comfortable."
But Antonin already had been patient and though he might have gained more hours with her, he wasn't confident that, day by day, time was on his side. What if the Dark Lord freed him tomorrow and the Order decided to cut their losses? The closer he came to claiming her, the more concerned he was that she might end up slipping through his fingers. Fuck that. He needed to think of something else.
She tilted her head upwards to press her lips against his but, for the first time, his mind wasn't focused on their kiss as the analytical side of his brain got to work to try and solve this new puzzle. The daydream charm had been so close to the answer. If only he could show her a toned down version of what was in his head… He pulled back abruptly, leaving her blinking dazedly. "Could the charm work on two people?" he asked and she frowned at him as she came back to her senses. "If we were both holding onto the envelope - maybe onto each other, too - when the spell is activated, could we enter the same daydream?"
"I…" She trailed off and he could see her mind rapidly working through what he'd said. "I don't know," she said eventually. "Fred and George never said anything about that in their original charm. The person who triggers the charm is the one who experiences the daydream. If two people initiate the spell at the exact same moment it could result in a shared dream. But, then again, maybe it would lead to separate ones, or perhaps not even take effect at all. I think you'd have to try it to find out."
He smirked. "Well, milaya, what do you say to us attempting to do just that?"
"What - now?" she called as he backed away from her and strode over to his cabinet. "I gave you those months ago!"
"I held one back in case I had a desperate need for it," he said, carefully taking his final daydream envelope into his hold before turning back to her. "And that hasn't happened yet." Hopefully it never would.
She traced her fingers over the large number three stamped on the front. "Did the others all work as they were supposed to? I would've asked before but I didn't want to pry."
"They worked perfectly." The self-satisfied edge to his voice made her look at him curiously. Antonin could tell that she wanted to ask about the contents of his daydreams but was too polite to do so. He would happily confess if there wasn't a possibility that it might put her off trying to share an imagination with him. "So, shall we give it a shot? It'd be nice to see you somewhere other than these four walls for once."
Her gaze switched between him and the envelope as she considered. "It's your gift - are you sure you want to use your last one on this?"
"Well, if it fails you can just make me another one, right?" he pointed out then snorted. "Even if it does work, it wouldn't exactly be a hardship for you to make me a new one, would it?"
She smiled. "True. Okay, I don't think there's any actual danger in trying. The magic isn't volatile." She looked at her wristwatch. "And we've certainly got a lot of time to fill before my usual 'hour' is up so we might as well use some on this."
It was decided that they would place the envelope on the desk to make it easier to open one-handed while their other hands were joined. Antonin had no idea whether it would work but he was excited at the prospect of leaving this cell for only the third time in roughly nine months - even if it was just a daydream. After a countdown of three, they pulled open the envelope and there was a familiar blinding flash of pink. When he opened his eyes, he was standing on a sandy beach with a smiling Hermione at his side.
"It worked," she said, then frowned. "Or are you just a figment of my imagination?"
Oh. "I know I'm real - perhaps you're just a figment of mine," he countered.
"I guess we won't know for sure until the daydream is over," she mused. "But I'll assume it's the real you otherwise I think I'm just going to get confused."
"Likewise." If that wasn't really her, there were plenty of other ways Antonin would choose to pass the daydream, but he couldn't take the risk when he'd been steadfastly building up her trust these last months.
She raised their hands, which were joined like their true counterparts in his cell. "I suggest that we don't let go in case it causes the dream to rupture."
He nodded his assent. "Good idea." He nodded to their entwined fingers. "Do you still feel it soothing?"
"Yes, but it's not as intense as usual unless I focus on it," she explained.
He kissed the back of her hand and then looked around. It was a beautiful location - golden sand that stretched for miles, turquoise water leading towards the horizon and an infinite, vivid blue sky. In his life before captivity he had never particularly appreciated nature, preferring the warm, dry company of his books. Being here now was, in truth, a little unsettling. So much open space after such confinement made him feel strangely exposed and vulnerable.
"What now?" Hermione asked. He turned to her, glad to be given a distraction. He'd instinctively changed into the refined clothes of his youth but she looked the same, only shortening the length of her trousers a few inches. Her bare feet were scrunching the sand between her toes and a breeze ruffled the hems of her trouser legs above the tantalising glimpse he had of her ankles and lower calves.
"We came here for one main purpose, didn't we?" he asked, lifting his gaze to hers.
She blanched. "Right away?"
"Why not?" he countered. "There's nothing to be scared of in here, surely? Time to show some of that damned Gryffindor courage your house always harp on about."
Her fingers seemed to involuntarily tighten around his as she gnawed her lower lip. "Okay," she murmured. "You're right - there's absolutely no reason to be scared of this. Better to rip off the plaster and be done with it."
He wasn't quite sure what that last phrase meant but he could hear the determination in her tone. When he pulled her forwards a step, the scene around them completely changed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden dark interior before he could see the long hallway with multiple doors leading off it.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked, peering about her.
"This isn't a real place," he replied. Their earlier talk about explicit publications had reminded him about one he had favoured in his youth about a building that held a different delectable delight behind each door. "It's just acting as a gateway for what you want to see."
"Alright."
"So," he let the word drag out. "What exactly do you want to see?"
"Well, normal sex, I suppose. Between a man and a woman."
"From the point of penetration? A few minutes before? As they're about to come?" he asked matter-of-factly.
She was momentarily frozen then she blinked and hesitantly said, "Is the before important?"
"If it's done properly - builds the excitement and tension. You won't want a cock driving into dry cunt. Wouldn't be very pleasant for either person. Wetter is better. All that touching and teasing…" He was picturing all their times together, her whimpers and moans, the shifting hips. "Do you know what I'm talking about, milaya? Do I get you wet when I touch you?" He probably wouldn't risk asking the question outside of this daydream but the separation from reality emboldened him. "Do you get slick when I kiss down your neck and lick the sweat off your skin?"
He wasn't sure whether she'd answer but then, "Yes." The word came fluttering out of her throat, her eyes averted. Fuck. He hoped this was the real her because she'd never looked more beautiful to him than at that moment.
"Good," he said, bringing up his free hand to cup her face and kiss her briefly. "That's good. Your body knows what to do," he reassured her, remembering her need for praise. He turned towards the nearest door and pushed it open, bringing her with him as they stepped into a bedroom where a half-naked couple were kissing enthusiastically on the bed.
Hermione gasped, eyes wide and staring. "Oh, Merlin."
Antonin kissed her cheek reassuringly then turned his eyes back to the couple. Their upper faces were obscured by bejewelled decorative purple and gold masks but he knew damn well who they were - or who they were based on, even if there were just a few subtle changes in case Hermione was unnerved by the sight. The woman had no beautiful scar on her chest and her slightly lighter hair was more tightly curled. The man had a well-maintained medium black beard but his hair had been cut shorter, and showed no distinguishing tattoos on his upper body.
As he and Hermione watched, the man lowered his head to the woman's bare chest, licking and kissing one breast while his hand caressed and teased the other. The women let out a throaty moan, one hand grabbing a fistful of his hair.
When his mouth closed around her nipple, making her cry out, Antonin leaned his head closer to the Hermione at his side and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "Be under no illusion, milaya, all that we're going to see here is exactly what I want to do to you." She whimpered but her eyes didn't stray from the couple on the bed, her chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths. In truth, he wanted more than just what was on display here but he was mindful that anything too hardcore at this early stage might put her off rather than excite her. So the woman didn't take the man's cock into her mouth, but just stroked it a few times to bring it fully erect; the man didn't lick a stripe down her sex and suck on her clit, but kissed her inner thighs and ran his fingers through her slick a couple of times to transfer it to his cock.
It was, without doubt, one of the strangest experiences of his life to watch himself begin to slide his cock into Hermione's cunt when his witch was standing right next to him. Surreal, yes, but also fucking hot. He was wound almost unbearably tight, his own erection demanding relief. He didn't know it was possible to be jealous of himself but he envied the version in front of him that was getting to bury himself deeper into her velvet heat even if it wasn't actually real.
In quiet desperation, he turned to his Hermione again. "Just say the word and that can be us," he said softly and he felt her fingers twitch against his. "Right now. Feel it for yourself, experience it, live it, before you decide you're ready and comfortable for the real thing."
Her eyes still remained on the couple on the bed. The woman's legs were wrapped around the man's hips and her nails raked across his back as she moaned until he stopped her with a deep kiss, picking up the pace.
"I want it to be real," Hermione said but the ambivalence of the statement left him holding his breath. "I don't want my first time to be a fantasy. I want it to be genuine even if I have to wait a little longer."
For fuck's sake! He wanted to yell his frustration for all the world to hear but he choked it down.
This had to be the real her. His imagination wouldn't intentionally be this cruel, would it? For a few moments he tried to mentally will her into changing her mind but she merely continued to stare at the fucking couple, apparently unaware of his sexual frustration.
Thankfully, his mind did listen to his wish for his torture to be over because judging from the moans a few feet away this show was soon going to meet its climax. The man was driving into the woman even faster, one hand rubbing at her clit. She cried out her orgasm and the man jerkily carried on thrusting until he came with a groan a few seconds later.
Lucky fucker.
"So has that filled in the gaps in your knowledge?" Antonin asked her huskily.
She finally turned away from the bed, looking a little startled by what she had seen. "Some," she admitted.
He frowned. "You want to see more?"
"Well, we're here, aren't we? What else are we going to do until the charm runs out?"
He could think of a number of things but she'd already turned him down. "As you wish," he said and moved back through the door into the hallway. "What do you want to see next?"
He saw her open her mouth to speak and then he was suddenly staring down at the envelope on his desk again. The daydream was over, which was a relief because he didn't know how much more of that he could've taken. His blood still sang with desire, his fingers itching to reach out for her, his cock desperate for relief. How was he going to survive the rest of his time with her? He was going to have to hope that she chose to sleep for a little bit so he could discreetly take care of himself.
"That can't have been an hour," Hermione said, removing her hand from his so that she could check her watch. He couldn't help but notice that her voice sounded rather breathless. "It wasn't. It clearly can't last as long when it's working on two minds."
Thank fuck for that.
"Was that the real you?" she asked, and he saw that her face was very flushed. "I know it should've been because my imagination couldn't have…" She cleared her throat. "Did we truly share that daydream?"
He was pretty sure he knew the answer as well but he said, "Ask me something I'd only know if I was there."
"What colour were their masks?"
"Purple and gold."
She pressed her lips together and nodded, then moved a trembling hand towards the envelope. "That's quite - " She paused to clear her throat again. Maybe she was as turned on by what she'd seen as he was. He needed to touch her properly. Now. " - quite a clever bit of magic even if it wasn't inten-mmph!" The word was cut off as he kissed her, pulling her towards him with one hand sliding into her hair and the other at the small of her back. The kiss was hot and frantic, lips moving needily against each other, her fingers clutching at his hair but not pulling him away. With just a little more pressure at her rear, he brought her flush against his crotch for the first time. She didn't show any reaction but it almost had him twitching as sparks shot along his nerves.
He removed his hand from her hair and blindly searched for one of the black straps that arched over her torso. His hand snagged on it and he curved his fingers inside, then followed its path upwards, making sure that his knuckles brushed the cotton over her scar and then the curve of her breast before it rounded over her shoulder and he could pull the strap to one side. She whimpered against his lips. He switched hands at her back so that he could repeat the process on the other strap, but he made sure to progress up her chest more slowly and he was sure his knuckle grazed over a hardened nipple - not only did he think he could feel the stiffness but she made another mewling noise and her nails momentarily dug into his scalp. With both straps out of the way, his hand stroked, danced and teased the cotton over her abdomen until with a sound of frustration she snatched the fabric free from the waistband of her trousers and forced his hand under to meet the soft skin of her stomach. Her cry was too powerful to be contained by his lips and she jerked her head to one side as the note pierced the air.
"Fuck, you make so hard when you scream like that," he panted as he kissed along her jaw, his hand still tracing unseen patterns over her scar. "Can you feel me, milaya?" He gave a small roll of his hips, pressing his crotch against hers, producing another whine. "Can you feel what you do to me? Tell me."
"Yes," she gasped.
"It's because you're so good for me," he told her feverishly, almost delirious with how well this was going. "My beautiful, clever witch. Such a good girl." He inched his hand higher so that his fingertips brushed just underneath her bra. "I need more of you, need to see you." Even though he could tell that she was mostly lost to bliss, he still felt her hesitancy so he kissed her before she could voice an objection, distracted her with further touches to her scar and another roll of his hips. He pulled back completely. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she nearly stumbled, but he didn't notice as he was pulling off his robe, leaving his upper body completely bare. It took only a couple of seconds and then he was right back where he was before. "Want to feel your skin against mine," he murmured close to her lips before kissing her again. Her hand ghosted across his shoulder and then came back more firmly, sliding down his chest while the one in his hair migrated down his back, making him shiver. "Yes, milaya," he hissed. "Let me feel you." He took a chance, tugging at her top and her fingers met his - but instead of pushing him away they helped him lift the garment up higher and over her head.
He was desperate to take a step back to let his eyes feast on his reward but he didn't want her to become self-conscious. Instead, after the smallest glimpse of her beautiful scar and simple white bra, he kept her close, revelling in the sensation of having so much of her hot smooth skin against his own.
He walked backwards, bringing her with him, so that he could sit on the edge of the bed and hopefully persuade her to straddle his hips. He wasn't going to offer her an out. If she wanted to stop, she was going to have to let him know.
The back of his legs hit the bedframe and he sat heavily, reaching for her, but also taking the opportunity to gaze at her. His face was roughly level with her tree-shaped scar and he marvelled at the way it seemed to come alive with the rise and fall of her breaths. He couldn't wait to explore every branch and bough all over again.
His gaze lifted higher to her covered breasts, the swells and curves hidden so delectably behind her bra. His already hungry mouth was desperate to taste her. It was only as his eyes continued the journey upwards past her wondrous rune pendant that had gifted them so much time together, that he saw that she had frozen. At first he thought that the move to the bed had been a step too far out of her comfort but then he saw what her gaze had fixed upon: his Dark Mark.
She had never seen it before.
Perhaps these last few weeks she had been able to make herself forget that he had one. Maybe she had convinced herself that he was someone different at heart so that it eased her conscience when she let him under her clothes.
Had she not fully comprehended what he had been telling her last week? His path was aligned to the Dark Lord's for life. He had as little choice now as he had the moment he was born. Inexorable. And why the fuck would he even want to change? The Dark Lord would free him, give him power and greatness. Anything else would keep him locked up for the rest of his miserable life. There was no comparison even if he were able to decide his own fate.
How fucking naive was she to hope or think otherwise?
She couldn't erase that part of him no matter how much she wanted to.
But he didn't blame her. After all, he was guilty of the same thing.
The recent use of her first name - both in his mind and out loud - was a deliberate choice, an erasure of her heritage. She was simply Hermione. His witch. As far as he was concerned, she had no life prior to joining the magical world. And at the dawning of a new age with the Dark Lord's victory, their new life would begin together. It would be easy. She would soon forget who she thought she was when she had Antonin to guide and control her…
But, first, this delicate moment had to be navigated.
He was braced for her to cringe away, to cry or yell, and with his passion already high from the last few minutes, he knew it was likely he was going to angrily tell her things that she didn't want to hear. His chance of getting to fuck her today had gone when he had been so damn close. Hell, she might even walk out right now.
Should he try and reassure her? Or pretend he hadn't noticed her reaction? If he leaned forwards and started kissing her scar, there was a chance she would forget about what she'd seen within seconds and maybe he'd be able to salvage the situation after all. But before he could, she sat on the bed - not on his lap as he'd been hoping - but next to him. There was far more clarity in her gaze as she looked at him. She didn't look disgusted or angry, just a little sad - which was probably the better of the three options even if it was quite irritating to be on the receiving end of. But he was pleasantly surprised when her eyes dropped down to his lips a couple of times and her head moved closer. The kiss was no match to the scorching lust of before and he doubted it would be possible to get back to that point now no matter how much attention he paid to her scar. He might get lucky enough to lift his hand to her bra - perhaps even manage to get under it - but any further was out of reach this time.
But she had seen his Dark Mark and seemed to have accepted it. Sure, he was disappointed that it had prevented him from getting further, but overall this was definitely a big fucking win.
A/N Again, I would be very interested to hear your thoughts on this one! I've tried to keep Hermione in character as much as possible when it comes to sex. Although today we've got so many more ways to discover about sex with the internet and media etc. (FF taught me way more about sex than anything else 😄), as a witch in the 90s, Hermione wouldn't have had as much access to that so I thought the daydream was a neat way to show someone like her who wants to know everything a bit more about it.
I'm not sure how many of us would've been able to resist daydream sex with Antonin but I, like Hermione, wanted their first time together to be real. It would have felt a bit like cheating you guys out of what you've been waiting for.
I don't know if you've noticed but I've been trying to dress Hermione in 90s era clothes in the last few chapters. I was image searching on Google because even though I was a child in the 90s, I don't remember what teenagers were wearing. In this chapter Hermione was wearing a type of what in the UK we'd probably call dungarees - bib and brace overalls to some of you? - but without the panel over the stomach/chest. It's a good thing Antonin doesn't know what they're called because hopefully he described them well enough anyway🙈.
Hope you have a lovely rest of the week, everyone!