A/N Hello, lovely readers! I told you it wouldn't be insanely long for this update. Hope you enjoy it!


Having learned her lesson from Professor Snape's barbed comments the first time, Hermione knocked on his door at the precise moment designated for their lesson. As usual, the door opened without a sound and Hermione walked into the office. She had been coming to the Occlumency tutorials for nearly two months now, but she doubted she'd ever rid herself of the nerves she experienced when coming before her disdainful professor. She'd made progress in the art, she knew she had. Last week, each time that Snape had cast legilimens, she'd managed to expel him from her mind within just a couple of seconds. Her efforts had earned her a grudging acknowledgement from him of her improvement.

It was good that she was more capable of fighting off a direct attack but that wasn't the reason why she was receiving tuition in Occlumency. She needed to learn how to adapt the skills to help her keep a hold of her thoughts and emotions when Dolohov touched her. She'd tried to put things into practice during her latest visits but, much to her embarrassment, she still found the potency of his touch too overwhelming to focus on maintaining any mental strategies. Having to admit that to Professor Snape would be absolutely mortifying, but she knew that her best chance of continuing to develop was to be honest with her instructor.

"We will begin by making sure that last week's efforts were neither a fluke nor been left to deteriorate because of an arrogant assumption that you no longer need to practise strengthening you mind daily," Snape began, forgoing any sort of greeting as he rose from his desk, wand in hand.

Hermione tried to let his intentionally provocative words roll off her back, which was easier said than done. However, if she didn't lose her emotion then she'd never be able to keep him out of her mind. "Yes, sir," she said politely, withdrawing her own wand.

She took a series of calming breaths and went through the motions of preparing her mind, shutting away her emotions and erecting her mental shields. She nodded at Snape to show that she was ready.

"Legilimens."

Hermione sensed his mental exploration on the fringes of her defence and she confidently pushed him away before he could evoke any thoughts or feelings from her. He nodded once to show his approval but offered no further praise.

"This time I want you to maintain your defences - instant repulsion of an attack is one thing but we need to work on your endurance. A sustained defence is much more of a challenge, and one that should benefit you in your encounters with Dolohov," he said. "Firstly, you will attempt to keep me at bay for a count of five before repelling me. If you are capable of doing so, then we will increase the length of time you need to keep me out." He didn't sound particularly confident about her chances of succeeding and she tried to let her irritation pass through her.

"Yes, sir," she replied calmly and prepared herself. Despite her intention to remain composed, she felt a small thrill at the prospect of taking her study of Occlumency to the next level and the personal challenge it presented to her.

"Legilimens."

Initially, the sensations were familiar and she had to fight her instinct to push Snape out straight away. Her barrier was strong, but as soon as she began to think about counting the passage of time, she found her defence crumbling. In a moment of panic, she thrust Snape away before he could get through.

He arched an eyebrow at her, his disapproval clear. "A count of five, Miss Granger," he said slowly, as though he was talking to a young child, and she tried not to flush. "Let's try again."

Hermione now had a greater understanding of the amount of concentration needed to maintain her shield and leave enough consciousness available to count the passage of time. On the second attempt there was a moment when she nearly slipped up again, but she kept her nerve and saw out the five seconds, letting out a deep breath as she pushed her professor away from her mind.

"You nearly let me in," Snape said with a shake of his head. "We go again."

It took two more efforts before he was finally satisfied.

Hermione's head had begun to ache but she resisted the urge to rub her temple and show weakness to her professor.

"Legilimens."

The attack was so out of the blue that Hermione was completely unprepared this time. She had no defences in place as Snape surged into her mind, and she was completely helpless to stop the images that were thrown up. Unlike her previous experiences - where a variety of memories and thoughts were shown - to Hermione's embarrassment, only her visits with Dolohov were brought up but in reverse. She knew that she should be trying to mount some sort of defence but she was still reeling from the surprise, and she wasn't helped by her feelings of embarrassment and shame at Snape seeing any of her time with Dolohov. Her latest trips were relatively tame but she was soon seeing that charged moment when Dolohov's hand hovered above her lower chest, then Dolohov was covering her mouth when she began to speak the incantation for the Dark Mark, she was seeing his reaction to her using Voldemort's name, then him calling her a whore and the heated argument that followed, his mockery of her experiencing pleasure from his touch for the first time in his old cell. Snape delved further, back to the Department of Mysteries. At once, it felt like something within her fractured. With a blink of her eyes, she was suddenly looking out over Snape's desk once more, but her Defence professor had been knocked backwards into the shelves behind him.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth in horror as her body flushed with heat. Snape was looking at her intently.

"I'm so sorry, sir," she said, removing her hands as he straightened. "I don't know what happened."

"I gathered as much," he muttered, still eyeing her speculatively. "How do you feel, Granger?"

"Feel?" she repeated in surprise. "My head hurts a little but that's to be expected, isn't it?" Her annoyance with Professor Snape at attacking her when she wasn't ready along with her embarrassment at what he'd seen had been pushed aside in her shock at accidentally knocking him over. She didn't even remember casting a spell at him, and she felt a bead of perspiration drip down from her forehead as she continued to burn with the mortification of it all.

"You look flushed," he stated, his eyes still narrowed on her, and she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her at Snape's awareness of her humiliation. She brushed a hand across her clammy forehead in her consternation. To her surprise, Snape stepped out from his desk and walked towards her. Her immediate instinct was to back away from him but she didn't want him to sneer at any fear she displayed. He came to a stop just a foot from her, hesitated, and then to Hermione's great astonishment, touched the tip of his fingers to the back of her hand. Her shock at his actions was not enough to override the sharp burn his touch produced.

She gasped and snatched her hand away, shuffling backwards a few steps as another wave of heat swept through her. Her eyes widened in comprehension and she felt somewhat foolish for not realising what Snape's words and her flushed body meant sooner - the symptoms of her curse had been accelerated.

It had been only four days since her last visit to Azkaban but she felt more like she would on day ten of her cycle, worse even. If her symptoms continued to progress, she needed to see Dolohov immediately otherwise she might slip into the strange trance that had occured a couple of times previously.

After seeing her reaction, Professor Snape recognised the seriousness of the situation because he said, "You need to see him, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Urgently?"

"I think so," she replied and then made a sweeping motion down her body. "This shouldn't be happening - I only saw him a few days ago."

"I see. The Headmaster is currently away from the school so I will alert Professor McGonagall that I am escorting you," he told her calmly. A Patronus message erupted from his wand a moment later and then they were moving quickly through the castle.

Hermione was left perplexed by the turn of events. What had triggered this? Was it a coincidence that Snape had been exploring her memories of Dolohov at the time? Then she remembered that fracturing sensation she'd experienced… Despite the heat raging through her body, a shiver of unease ran down her spine and she pressed her lips together anxiously. That fracturing was linked to her condition, she was sure of it.

She was vaguely aware of Snape glancing at her frequently as they started the journey through the grounds but he said nothing, and she was glad. She was grateful to him, and Professor McGonagall, for pledging to give up their time to escort her to and from the Hogwarts gates now that Tonks had been forbidden, but trying to converse with Snape now after everything he'd just seen would be excruciating.

Eventually, the flaming bracketed torches on the gates came into view. The heat inside Hermione was becoming intolerable and she had to remind herself that she'd be relieved of the burn soon. She'd be with Dolohov soon...

Just before they reached the gates, Snape looked at her with a pensive expression. "Miss Granger, I feel that it's necessary to accompany you to the prison. Your deteriorating condition concerns me and gives me reason to doubt your success in completing such a precise apparation, particularly when you have only recently earned your licence. And, as the aurors on duty have had no warning of your arrival, they may not realise the jeopardy you are in."

Hermione nodded and mumbled her thanks, but the truth was she was now finding it difficult to focus on anything other than how the curse was making her feel. She was vaguely aware of Snape steering her through the school gates and the familiar sensation of side-along apparation.

Their abrupt arrival in the harsh weather of the North Sea helped to clear her mind as the wind, rain and sea-spray lashed at them ferociously. Hermione welcomed the cooling effect the conditions had on her even though she knew the benefits wouldn't dampen the heat for long, and allowed Snape to hurry her towards the entrance.

The two aurors on duty were surprised to see her. Although they could quickly see that she was affected by the curse, they refused to let Snape enter with her.

"It's Ministry personnel only now, remember?" the older, thin-lipped auror snapped in response to Snape's acid tone.

"Then one of you had better escort her up and you'd better pray that nothing happens to her," he warned lowly.

Hermione felt a tug at her clothing and faintly realised that Snape had thought to cover her face with her hood before she disappeared into the prison with the irritated auror. Thankfully, they were through to Dolohov's cell very quickly. From his place seated at the table, he looked up towards the open door with clear surprise.

"She needs you," the auror told him bluntly.

Dolohov ran his eyes over her, taking in her flushed and clammy appearance. "You're burning up," he muttered, setting down his quill as he stood up to come and examine her more closely.

Hermione made quick work of removing her sodden outer robe and carelessly threw it to one side. The auror muttered that he'd be just outside if they needed him, but neither Hermione nor Dolohov paid him any attention as their focus was entirely on the other.

Dolohov was obviously curious about her current state given that nothing quite like this happened to her before, and his gaze was analytical - like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. Hermione, meanwhile, was acutely aware that she was looking at the source of the balm that would soothe the fire raging inside her. She had never consciously been so far gone with the effects of the curse before, and in the last few minutes her mind had narrowed down and focused on the need to find relief - the need to get to Dolohov and his touch. Nothing else mattered.

"What's brought this on?" Antonin asked but Granger ignored him, hurrying forward a few steps to close the gap between them at once. She grabbed his hands, nearly whimpering at the immediate sweet sense of relief that swept through her but it wasn't enough. She attempted to slide her fingers quickly up his arms so that there was more skin contact between them, but the restrictive material of his sleeves prevented her from getting far. "Fuck," Antonin cursed lowly as he jerked in surprise at her desperate movements, nearly sending them both to the floor. With a whimper, Granger halted her attempts to get further up his arms. Instead, she roughly grabbed his hands and forced them into contact with her neck and lower face, leaving her own hands free to pull at the black robe that hid his soothing skin from her. Her forceful tug caused the fabric to rip slightly and he dropped his hands from her, snapping, "Enough!" He had never seen her like this before and he presumed that she was close to entering into her trance-like state. For the moment, there was no sign of purple flames in her wild eyes but he had no idea how long that would remain the case if he didn't give her relief.

She let out a desperate sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whine. "Need you," she told him breathlessly, reaching out to him again, but Antonin stepped backwards beyond her reach. His hesitancy wasn't borne out of an objection to touching her, but was more a combined product of his shock at seeing her in this condition and his uncertainty about the best way to give her what she needed. Her rough movements were almost violent, and if he let her carry on in this way then one or both of them would end up getting hurt.

Before she could throw herself at him again, Antonin accepted that the intention behind her frantic earlier action might actually be the most sensible choice. With a muttered oath, he yanked his black robe over his head, leaving him bare-chested. He barely had time to brace himself before she had wrapped herself around his torso, her hands and exposed forearms sliding over the skin on his back and her cheek pressed eagerly against his upper chest. She let out a low moan and he could feel the vibrations passing through her into his own body, so closely was she stood against him. Her skin was almost feverishly hot to the touch, the sensation contrasting strongly compared to the chill in the room and the icy rain droplets on her damp hair that brushed against his throat and shoulders. He swallowed thickly as goosebumps rose in the wake of her skimming fingers.

He was much more used to being the one doing the touching rather than receiving it, and he knew which one he preferred. It wasn't that her attentions didn't feel good - of course they fucking did - but he took particular gratification in possessing control of Granger in their interactions. She was normally so responsive to his slightest touch and he relished knowing that he was the only one who could elicit such reactions from her. But when she clung to him like this, content for him to just stand there as she pawed at him, he was reminded that she'd be just as enthusiastic about rubbing herself against a suit of armour, troll's leg or even the Dark Lord himself if any of them offered her relief from the curse. That was enough to put a bit of a dampener on his enjoyment of her actions.

He could always drop the passivity, of course, and return some of her attentions so that he was engaged in the production of pleasurable relief. He lifted a hand to her chin and tilted her face upwards as she nuzzled into his palm. He was used to her gaze being somewhat unfocused under his touch but the current look in her eyes reminded Antonin of someone who'd single-handedly polished off an entire bottle of firewhiskey in a couple hours. She was completely out of it, either because of the potency of the curse, the cure or a heady combination of both. His desire to actively participate in her relief sunk even further. He would get no enjoyment out of touching her when she was so oblivious of her surroundings. She wasn't his zhar-ptitsa like this.

So, what, was he just going to stand there in the middle of his cell for the next couple of hours while she used him? The prospect wasn't particularly appealing. With another muttered Russian curse he helped steer the still-attached Granger over to the corner of the room, grabbing a book from his desk as they went. He hesitated for a moment and then lifted her so that he could maneuver them both onto his bed. She let out an unhappy sound as she lost some contact with him but he ignored her and made sure to get himself in a comfortable position before she joined herself to him again.

Within five minutes, he realised that it wasn't going to work. He had been staring at the same sentence the entire time without taking in a single word. Granger was too fucking distracting. Her voluminous hair tickled his face and her hot breaths ghosted across his neck. What was more, instead of being content to just lay still with the more than adequate amount of skin contact he'd given her, her hands continued to roam freely over his upper body. He gritted his teeth as the fingers of one hand trailed through his chest hair, moving up to smooth along his neck, along his jaw, burying themselves in the hair at the back of his head where they momentarily tightened in his curls, before her hand wandered back down to his chest to repeat the whole process again. It was like some cruel, endless cycle of sexual torture.

And despite his best efforts to distance himself from her ministrations, it was certainly having an effect.

His cock was rock hard.

This wasn't the first time that he had been aroused during one of her visits, and he'd wanked off to fantasises about her numerous times since that charged moment a few weeks ago. He'd been fairly disgusted at himself the first couple of times - someone with his impressive breeding should not get sexual gratification from the prospect of fucking a mudblood. But over the days and weeks that followed, his sense of shame was eroded away. Sex was just sex. He was attracted to women - mudblood she may be, Hermione Granger was still a woman. Besides, it wasn't as though her body was actually filthy. Her deficiencies were more subtle than that and easily forgotten as he fantasised about what it would be like to let his hands wander below her shirt and skirt; what her reaction would be like as he used his touch to part her slick folds; what it would feel like to have her come undone on his cock...

One of her nails gently scraped over a nipple and he hissed, his body jerking violently. "Fuck," he growled. This was no good. He couldn't take this any more - he needed her back.

Antonin threw his book to the floor and sat up, momentarily dislodging Granger and she was forced to cling to his side.

"Granger," he said firmly, but she ignored him and twined her arms around his torso. He reached out and gripped her chin to bring her face towards his. "Granger," he snapped. Her eyes blinked open and he scrutinised her gaze. Was there more clarity there than before? "You seem to have forgotten yourself." Her roaming touch faltered and she blinked a few more times, her brow furrowing as his words began to penetrate her haze. This was promising. He removed his hand from her chin and forced her arms away from his body. Instead of her earlier frantic and desperate reaction to being away from his touch, she merely looked hugely disappointed. "This is a transaction, remember? Not a charity," he told her as he climbed off the bed, leaving her to stare forlornly at his back. He retrieved his discarded robe from the floor and pulled it on. He knew this served as a good visual to her that she was being cut off from his skin, but he'd been more interested in trying to hide his erect cock from her because he had a feeling it would scare her off. As eager as she was for his touch right now, pushing her too far would ruin all his hard work. When he was satisfied that his robe did a good enough job of hiding the bulge, he turned back to her. "I'll let the lack of potion slide this time as your visit seems to have taken you by surprise. Suffice to say I expect a double dose next time."

She swallowed thickly as she rose from the bed, and he didn't miss the way her eyes followed the movement of his hands as he brushed the dirt from his robes. "I only saw you a few days ago," she said breathlessly. "I haven't got any news."

He made a show of musing over his response as he closed the distance between them. He brushed a spare lock of her hair away from her eyes, his fingertips ghosting over her cheek. "Then maybe you could tell me why I haven't seen your auror these last couple of weeks?" he suggested softly.

Hermione stared at him, fighting against the overwhelming urge to throw herself against him and bury her hands into his hair. She couldn't really remember entering his cell, the recent past was all a bit hazy and, although her mind had achieved some clarity, the fire of the curse was in no way sated.

"Is she dead? Sick?" Dolohov asked, arching an eyebrow. Hermione thought hard to work out what he was talking about.

"No," she replied, giving her head a hard shake in an attempt to clear it even further.

"So, where is she?" he pressed, his fingers brushing teasingly across the bare skin of her forearms.

"I, I- " Hermione stuttered, but she didn't have any idea what she was trying to say. His soft, fleeting touches were driving her mad with want and she couldn't think straight.

Antonin had spent enough time over the past months to know when she was trying to keep something from him. That could only be good news for him but he still wanted to be sure. He was enjoying himself now, eliciting from her the gasps and shivers that proved the power of his touch. "Will she be here next time?" he asked, punctuating his question with a sweep along her neck that was disguised as a motion to brush her hair away again.

Hermione tried to glare at him even as her head automatically leaned into his hand. She'd always known that she wouldn't be able to hide the reason behind Tonks's absence from him forever, but she still didn't want to admit to him that she wouldn't be so closely supervised any more.

"I'll take that as another no," he murmured. "Now, what about the visit after that and the one after that? Surely your auror hasn't abandoned you?"

Despite her overwhelming need to keep him close, Hermione pushed Dolohov's hands away and took a couple of quick steps back. With Tonks not here, she needed to come across as stronger than ever, not a simpering, defenceless victim. Best to just own up to it and act like it was no big deal. "Tonks was reassigned."

Antonin tried not to smirk at his zhar-ptitsa's show of defiance. He liked it when she showed some fight. "I see. And that idiot was chosen to replace her, was he?" he scoffed, nodding his head at the door where the male auror had shown Granger into the room.

She hesitated for a second. "No. A replacement wasn't needed."

Antonin was surprised at the revelation but he did his best to hide it. "Why not?" he sneered.

She tilted her chin upwards, her eyes trying to show defiance, but he could still see that she hungered for his touch above everything else. His fingers itched to give it to her but he held back. "I'm of age," she declared.

Hermione tried to keep portraying an assured air, but she could feel it crumbling as a smirk spread across his mouth and his eyes glinted in a way that made her stomach flutter.

"I see," he murmured. He saw it all - well, most of it. There was no way that Dumbledore would have willingly allowed her protection to be cut back so severely. Relations between the Minister and the old fool must be less than amicable. Good, that would only aid the Dark Lord's cause. Antonin only wished he knew what had produced the breakdown in comradeship in the last couple of weeks, not that it really mattered. His hold over Granger was now stronger than ever. The fates were finally smiling kindly on him. He knew exactly how he wanted to celebrate and if he could get Granger to think it was her idea then all the better.

With each second that ticked past, Hermione could feel her need to get relief increasing. Whatever had happened in those early hazy minutes in his cell hadn't been enough. She knew that she should be more concerned about what she'd revealed to Dolohov, but her mind was focused on what she needed from him.

"So, are we done here?" Dolohov asked casually. He turned towards the work on the table, almost like he was dismissing her. She felt an overwhelming feeling of dismay and just a tinge of surprise. Did he think she'd gotten enough relief from him? How long had she been in that semi-conscious state?!

"No," she blurted. "I still need you." She grimaced at how those words tasted on her tongue.

With his back to her, Antonin was free to smirk at her admission. He liked hearing her say that. He dropped the piece of parchment he'd pretended to peruse and turned his gaze on her. She was watching him hungrily - literally wringing her hands in her desire to have him touch her.

He closed the distance between them at a measured pace. "Where do you need me?" he asked and then drew her clasped hands in his, dancing his fingers across her palms. "Here?" He felt her own fingers twitch in response and she closed her eyes at the relief.

Antonin watched her face closely. For a few seconds she seemed content, but the moment her brow started to furrow he moved his hands to her forearms. "Here?" he asked and she let out a contented sigh. Antonin let her have her moment though he did not use his hands as skillfully as he knew he could. His touches were slightly more disjointed and blunt than normal, but hopefully not so much that she would know that he was doing it on purpose.

Hermione was feeling distinctly frustrated. Dolohov's hands felt good against her skin, of course they did, but it somehow still wasn't enough. She needed more of him but she had too much presence of mind to resort to requesting a half-naked Dolohov, which was apparently the lengths she'd gone to earlier in the visit. Before she could get too worked up about her discontentment, she felt one of his hands move.

"Do you need me here?" The sound of his husky voice swept through her, quickly followed by the heady scent of him as his fingers moved to the back of her neck. She bit back on a moan as his hand brushed the sensitive flesh.

"Yes," she breathed, stumbling when his fingers dug into the tension in her shoulder. His other hand went to her hip to steady her. After a small squeeze of pressure there his hand moved away, a couple of his fingers snagging on the buttoned part of her school shirt as they moved up to aid with the attention to her neck and shoulders. Her body quivered in response and something pulsed deep within her - not because of where his hands were now, but because of where his hand had almost been.

She tried to ignore the renewed desire she had for him to slide his fingers under the hem of her shirt. But the more she attempted to push it away, the more the need rose within her. Normally, she found Dolohov's ministrations at her shoulders to be akin to bliss; now they hardly passed as satisfactory.

"Do you need me anywhere else?"

She whimpered and then bit her lip.

One second passed. Then another.

One of her hands moved to her abdomen. "Here," she whispered, eyes still shut.

"Where? Where do you need me?" Antonin asked throatily even though he knew exactly where she meant. He was so close to getting what he wanted but he was determined that she should know that it was of her doing.

Her hand reached up to guide one of his down to her stomach. "Here," she repeated breathlessly, holding his hand to the place they were both so eager for him to explore. "I need you here."

Antonin paused, trying to preserve the moment in his memory - the way she looked with her flushed cheeks and wanting expression, the sound of those words coming out of her mouth, the feel of her gripping his hand tightly, and the power and satisfaction that coursed through him. Yes, he wanted to remember this for a long time. There was only one way this moment could be bettered...

"Look at me," he ordered gruffly.

The command was so unexpected that she obeyed at once, her eyes instantly becoming caught in his hungry gaze and another pulse of anticipation throbbed through her. She sucked in a breath as his hand started to move, even though his eyes remained locked on her face.

Antonin felt the lowest button give way under his manipulations and the next one followed soon after, but he was careful not to make contact with her skin. Not yet.

Hermione squirmed with anticipation as she felt her tie be pushed aside and a further slight tug at the fabric of her shirt - another button undone. He'd freed enough room to be able to part the material over her stomach with ease, and they both knew it.

Antonin paused, one hand moving back to place a steadying hold on her hip while the other teasingly brushed its knuckles over the covered area. She was gripping his shoulders tightly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she waited for him.

He desperately wanted to see the place where his curse had hit her, but that could wait - he didn't want to miss her first reaction to his touch. Not taking his eyes away from her face, he carefully positioned his fingers so that they were right at the point where the fabric overlapped. Then he inched them across the invisible barrier and onto the soft, smooth skin of her stomach.

Hermione gasped and then quickly pressed her lips together to try and stifle the sounds that wanted to pour out of her in appreciation at his touch. Her whole body tingled with pleasure as his hand gradually moved to cover that half of her stomach, until he was able to curl his fingers around her side. They momentarily tightened there, pulling her a little closer, then began to trail back the other way, fanning up slightly as they went. Antonin was greedily drinking in every detail of her response. He saw her pressed lips as a personal challenge to the effectiveness of his ministrations, and he was hell bent on playing her body to the point where she could no longer keep back her voice.

The pads of his fingers began to cross her ribcage when they both felt it.

A cry - almost like a whine - burst from Hermione's lips and she jerked in his hold in response to how sensitive that particular part of her body seemed to be to his touch. Antonin could actually feel magic tingling along his fingertips as he watched Granger's face melt into a picture of ecstasy. He swallowed thickly, aware that his breath was coming in ragged pants, and continued to let his fingers explore the new skin after they had unconsciously paused at the unexpected sensation.

A low moan escaped from Hermione's lips as his resumed movements sent waves of rapture through her body. The sensation was almost too intense for her to bear, and she was forced to close her eyes and toss her head back.

"I want to see you," he murmured huskily, but she knew it would be too much for her to look at him now. However, when she felt his body shift, she realised he intended something else. His hand moved away from her chest and though she was grateful for the chance to catch her breath, she missed the lack of contact immediately.

His hands holding her hips, Antonin knelt down and then turned her slightly so that she was bathed in the flickering golden light from the torches. His previous caresses had left the fabric rumpled where it spilled out over her skirt, red and gold tie still sitting proudly atop it. He reached out for the stripey fabric and let it run silkily through his fingers, before tugging the knot free and dropping it to the floor. He could wait no longer. Both his hands surged under Granger's shirt, pushing the material up and away. She cried out again, her hands burying themselves in his hair. Antonin gazed upon the smooth, creamy skin of her stomach, enjoying the sight of it shifting as she breathed. His hands resumed their journey up her sides, pushing the fabric until it was bunched just beneath her breasts.

He could see it now and he unconsciously let out a growl of approval.

The scar reminded him of a tree in winter. A bold line crossed her rib cage, with thinner strands branching off it.

It was beautiful and it was his.

His magic had put it there and now it was a part of her.

He brushed his thumbs over the winding strands, feeling the same awareness of magic that he'd sensed earlier. Granger was responding enthusiastically to his touch: her fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair and her whimpers music to his ears.

He took his time to trace every inch of the pattern from end to end with his touch, and then repeated the whole process again. Time lost all relevance as Hermione found herself happily trapped in bliss, just surrendering herself to the sensations. She was so caught up in the experience that it took her a few moments to realise that he was saying something. Her already overloaded senses strained to make out his words, but she soon realised that his low murmurs were not meant for her and, most likely, were in Russian anyway.

She felt Dolohov pull her body forwards slightly, and as his hot breath met her skin, she realised just how close his mouth was to her body. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down. She swallowed thickly at the sight of him on his knees before her, her hands buried in his hair as he gazed, entranced, at her scars. The feeling of attraction swelled within her stronger than ever before and she clenched her thighs together tightly, her core throbbing with desire.

"I've marked you," Antonin murmured, repeating his earlier words. His lips were so close to her skin now that it was like he was intoning them into her flesh. "My magic is here, within you. I can feel it." He drew one of his hands along a branch of her livid scar to prove the validity of his words and Granger squirmed. "It's mine," he said, moving his mouth even closer. "Mine," he breathed. He glanced up at her and felt a throb of arousal when he saw that not only was she watching, she looked desperate as fuck for him. His zhar-ptitsa. "Mine," he said again, louder this time, and keeping hold of her gaze, pressed his lips to her skin.


A/N Um, so, yeah... That happened... What did you think? I did promise you guys Antonin, didn't I!

I can't remember the last time I did a shared POV in one of my fics, but I feel like it was necessary in this chapter. I hope it flowed OK.

Keep safe everyone!

Love,

Red.