A/N Hi guys! Thanks for your support on this story.

Antonin couldn't resist smirking when he saw her stride into his new cell with a defiant glare.

He'd be lying to himself if he denied that he'd been starting to doubt his prediction that she'd be in need of his touch to keep the curse away, and he was now very selfishly pleased to see that he was right. After all, if she didn't need him, he was absolutely certain that the new accommodation he'd negotiated for himself would be stripped from him even quicker than it had been given. And that was something he was keen to avoid at all costs. The simple quarters he now lived in were nothing short of a luxury compared to the grim and barren stone walls of his former cell. He could no longer hear the shrieks of the other prisoners as they gradually descended into madness, which was also a welcome change. But, most importantly, the bone-chilling effects of the Dementors were at a minimum inside his warded room. He would almost be able to believe he was no longer on this godforsaken rock were it not for the moments when the enchantments were briefly lowered as his meals were delivered. And it was all possible because of the angry young woman who was glowering at him, arms crossed defensively across her chest.

Antonin quickly ran his eyes over her frame. He noted that she wasn't hiding under the hood of her cloak this time. In fact, the swathing, black material was tied a lot more loosely, giving him a glimpse of the casual muggle garments she was wearing underneath. It was only a couple of hours after dawn and, though it might be summer, Antonin had never known the temperature in the isolated fortress to rise much above freezing but he could see from the flush on her cheeks that Granger was feeling the effects of a heat that he very much suspected had been caused by his curse. He recalled her fever-like appearance when she'd been first brought to him and reasoned that the rise in temperature would occur whenever she was away from his touch for too long. He wondered whether it was simply the rise in temperature that had instigated this trip or if she had experienced other symptoms too.

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of another person in the room. He had been expecting the return of Shacklebolt but was only a little surprised to see the young, female auror instead. Nymphadora Tonks had also been a suspected member of the Order of the Phoenix before her allegiance was confirmed at the Department of Mysteries. The last Antonin had seen of her, she'd been duelling her aunt, Bellatrix, and he was sure that Bella was disappointed that her half-blood niece had survived.

Antonin was pleased with the change in personnel – the young auror definitely didn't have the presence of someone like Shacklebolt and that was certainly to Antonin's advantage. The smirk he'd been sending in Granger's direction morphed into a sneer as he looked at the auror who'd levelled her wand at him.

"My business is with Granger, not you," he told her icily as he rose from the battered armchair the Minsitry had reluctantly gifted him for his quarters.

Tonks's wand followed his movements and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "You can't possibly think I'm going to leave Hermione in here alone with you."

"You'll do as I say," Antonin insisted menacingly, his hard gaze reinforcing that the topic was not up for discussion. If he hadn't already read intelligence that Tonks was a metamorphagus, he would've thought the streaks of red that suddenly flashed in her limp brown hair to be purely his imagination and he felt a thrill of satisfaction that his words had unsettled her.

"You're not the one in control here, Dolohov," she argued, shifting her position in an attempt to maintain her authority.

"Well, Nymphadora, you obviously don't understand the situation, do you?" he mocked, covertly pleased at the return of the brief red streaks in her hair. "Hufflepuff, weren't you? That would explain it…"

She simply glared at him in response so he continued. "The mudblood's here because the curse has clearly started affecting her again and my touch is the only known way of keeping it at bay. If you want me to touch her, you wait outside."

"You've already been given these quarters and your books in exchange for your cooperation, Dolohov," Tonks pointed out, her voice even despite the trace of anger he'd seen in her eye at his use of the blood slur.

"Wrong," he corrected harshly. "The books and accommodation were the terms for my assistance in researching the curse. Nothing has been negotiated for the cost of my touch."

A look of disgust adorned the auror's face as she closed the distance between them so that her wand was digging into his chest, directly above his heart. "You seem to have forgotten that your touch can be arranged against your will, Dolohov. Do you really think anyone would care if I stunned you whenever Hermione has to visit?"

Dolohov grinned wickedly. "Oh, I'm sure the powers-that-be would only be too happy to hear that such measures were necessary to control me. However, I should warn you, that if you have to resort to those extremes, my mental faculties are likely to suffer and I shall be in no state to find the counter to the curse; the mudblood will be dependent on me for the rest of her life." He casually took a couple of steps backwards so that the auror's wand was no longer jabbing into him. "Consider your options wisely, Nymphadora," he suggested before nonchalantly returning to the old armchair, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time.

The silence lasted a few seconds before it was broken.

"It's OK, Tonks," Granger said softly, drawing the attention of both adults to her. "I'll be fine. He can't do anything to hurt me, can he?"

Antonin didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed that the girl underestimated him and Tonks certainly looked unconvinced. She finally lowered her wand and walked over to Granger to engage in a soft conversation that, despite his best (but discrete) efforts to listen, Antonin couldn't hear a word of. He observed the young women closely, deducing through their body language and expressions that they were quite familiar with each other and, remembering Granger's previous comfortability with Shacklebolt, he wondered how many members of the Order of the Phoenix she had been exposed to in the last year.

Tonks placed what Antonin could only assume was a reassuring hand on Granger's arm before the auror turned to face him once more. "You hurt her and you'll regret it," she vowed solemnly and then walked out of the enchanted door, disappearing from sight.

The silence returned as Antonin fixed his gaze back on Granger and she looked back uncertainly; the defiance she had entered the room with had greatly diminished. She glanced down at her hands and then back up to him. "How… how do you want to do this?" she posed, looking more nervous with every second that passed.

He rose once more from his seat and walked towards her. She flinched but forced herself to stand her ground as she watched his approach warily. "Not so fast, zhar-ptitsa," he admonished lightly, coming to a halt when there was just a couple of inches between them. "First, you and I need to negotiate terms for my touch."

Her forehead creased as she frowned. "But – " Her eyes darted briefly to the door the auror was waiting behind. She turned accusing eyes on him but held her tongue.

Antonin chuckled. "You didn't think my demands were as simple as being alone with you, did you?"

Her gaze regained some of its former hostility and her shoulders tensed in anticipation. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.

"What do you have that I might want?" he countered silkily, curious about what her response would be.

Her lips flattened into a thin line. "What do you want?" she repeated in a voice not far off a hiss. "This is not a game."

She froze as he leant forwards so that his mouth was close to her ear but he was careful not to touch her. "Are you sure?" he queried softly. He sensed her shiver and he pulled back, smirking at the effect he'd had on her. Her pupils were blown wide and his intrigued eyes followed the movement of her slender throat as she swallowed.

Her small hands suddenly pushed him back, increasing the distance between them. Her eyes sparked defiantly at him but Antonin was far from displeased at the fieriness in her demeanour. "It's not a game," she insisted heatedly. "Now, name your terms, Dolohov."

Antonin found he preferred this side to her. He'd loathed every Gryffindor he'd ever come across but, strangely, this little lioness standing up to him, the Death Eater who'd tried to kill her, only interested him more.

"Talk to me," he told her simply. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "Tell me what's going on in the magical world."

Her suspicion morphed into uncertainty. "You know I can't do that."

"I'm not asking you to tell me the plans of the Order of the Phoenix," he explained, "Just whatever I'd read about if The Daily Prophet delivered here." She still didn't look convinced. "It's not like I can do anything with the information you choose to share with me," he pointed out, indicating the four solid walls around them.

"That's why you wanted Tonks to leave, isn't it?" Granger accused. "So she can't influence my decision."

Antonin shrugged. "Think what you like but that's the price for my touch. If you want me to soothe the fire in your blood, you'll tell me what's happening out there." He turned away from her dismissively and lay back onto his bed, folding his arms behind his head and shutting his eyes as he waited for her to decide.

He could almost sense the internal battle raging within her as she deliberated what to do and, as the seconds ticked by in silence, he actually began to doubt whether her self-preservation would triumph over her strength of will. She was certainly loyal, no doubt about that, but he hadn't even asked that much of her! There really was nothing he could do with the news from the outside world whilst still a prisoner but, by her reaction, you'd think he'd asked her to betray the Order's deepest, darkest secrets! Fucking noble Gryffindors. That old fool Dumbledore certainly had this little mudblood wrapped around his fingers…

"N-nothing's really happened yet."

Antonin's eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice.

Finally.

He had to resist the strong urge to smirk, aware that it would probably make her clamp up. Instead, he fixed an inquisitive expression on his face and he sat up. "What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

She bit her lip, looking a little distressed at having spoken at all and he held back a scoff at how affected she was by her actions. The girl was ridiculously soft hearted; she wouldn't last long when the Dark Lord triumphed over magical Britain – if she even lived that long; being the mudblood best friend of Harry Potter certainly made her a target and, if she kept recklessly throwing herself into dangerous situations like at the Department of Mysteries, it would only be a matter of time!

He wondered if he might be able to gradually instil a bit of Slytherin self-preservation in her so that she might live long enough for him to see out the rest of his sentence (before the Dark Lord's forces broke him free) without having to move back to his old cell…

Taking this notion and her unease into account, he decided to soften his strategy slightly: maybe a bit of give-and-take would be a bit more effective in this case.

He got to his feet and approached her slowly, his hands held out in front of his body where she could see them. Her expression showed a range of different emotions as she watched him come closer and he noticed her fists clenched at her side. When he was a couple of inches away from his fingertips grazing the backs of her hands, he paused, and raised his eyes back up to hers, waiting for her consent.

She gave him the smallest nod but it was definitely there. He pressed the pads of his fingers around her taut fists and he saw the tension melt away from her at once. It really was fascinating to watch her body respond to his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed and there was a hitch in her breathing as he gently manipulated her hands so that they lay flat against his own.

He knew that he ought to be disgusted that he should have to endure this mudblood's touch but if it was the price to pay to keep the Dementors at bay then he would do so every day if necessary. Besides, it didn't really feel so bad…

"What did you mean when you said nothing's happened yet?" he pressed quietly as he gently traced the pads of his fingers up and down her palms.

She made a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like contentment to Antonin's ears but her eyes remained closed. "There have been no attacks or suspicious activity," she replied breathily. "None that the Prophet's reporting, anyway."

"The Dark Lord's return has been reported?"

She sighed. "It only took them a year," she murmured wryly but he could detect a deeper anger within her than her tone suggested. "But that was mostly Fudge's doing," she allowed with a small shrug. His fingers travelled higher, disappearing beneath the sleeves of her cloak as he explored the smooth skin beyond her wrists; his touch silently encouraging her to keep talking. "He's still Minister but the calls have started for him to resign. If he's got an ounce of decency he'll leave so that someone else can start fixing the mess his months of denial have left the country in. Mr Weasley thinks –"

She stopped abruptly and he felt her body tense, her eyes flying open. He realised at once what had brought about the sudden change – her mention of Arthur Weasley. Her knowledge of the bloodtraitor's opinions on the state of magical Britain were not likely to be published in the pages of The Daily Prophet. It was much more likely that she had discussed this topic with Weasley first-hand and, therefore, the Weasley residence was logically the location at which she was spending her summer. That, or she was able to converse with Arthur Weasley one another occasion – an Order meeting, perhaps? Antonin suspected not. Either way, Granger looked concerned with her slip of the tongue – as though her telling him would directly lead to the death of the red-haired man and his family. It was interesting information, of course, as was her reaction, and Antonin tucked it all away in his head, but he couldn't foresee it of being great consequence.

Having temporarily paused at her sudden rigidity, he resumed his massaging actions along her forearms in an attempt to distract her but she watched him warily. "I imagine the Ministry will be seeking out a strong candidate to replace him," he mused, hoping she would respond. "No doubt someone with a background in law enforcement – perhaps even someone from the auror department?"

Her stony gaze and sealed lips were all the response that he got.

Antonin withdrew his hands and took a couple of steps away from her, watching with satisfaction as disappointment at the loss flashed across her face before she covered it with a stubborn clench of her jaw as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"You seem to have forgotten the terms of our arrangement," he said with the slightest hint of menace in his voice.

She let out a huff of frustration and looked away from him, eyes downcast as she chewed at her bottom lip again.

Antonin was beginning to tire of her overly emotional responses. Were all Gryffindors this hard work? On principle, he'd avoided them all as best he could whilst at Hogwarts so his personal information on the matter was lacking, but he suspected that he'd been landed with a particularly cumbersome one.

"It feels wrong," she muttered, glancing up at him. "Telling you that information – I…" she trailed off and shook her head.

"What exactly do you think I'm going to do with the news you tell me?" he questioned, his voice giving away some of his exasperation. "I see no one. I will see no one apart from you until the day I die if the Ministry have their way," he reminded her bitterly, a scowl marring his features.

"And what if you escape again?" she posed, looking troubled. "What then?"

Antonin let out a bark of laughter. "You really think the Dark Lord is going to care about Arthur Weasley's opinions on the Minister for Magic?"

Her cheeks flushed at his argument, perhaps seeing the validity of his words. "It still feels wrong," she murmured defensively.

"Isn't it wrong to deny prisoners any knowledge of the outside world?" he proposed, attempting to play on the damned fucking morality that meant so much to her.

She sent him a sharp look. "You killed people," she pointed out flatly.

"Only people that tried to kill me first," he replied coolly and she frowned.

"I didn't try to kill you," she reminded him.

"And I didn't kill you," he retorted.

"Not for a lack of trying," she shot back.

"True," he admitted in a voice not far off from a growl as his irritation with her morals began to show through. "I've done some terrible things and I expect I will do more if I ever get out of this fucking hellhole. You are perfectly vindicated in thinking me a monster and to be suspicious of my motives, but…" he paused, realising he had advanced on her with such wildness in his demeanour that she had backed herself up against the wall for the first time. He forced himself to take a deep breath so that he would continue in a calmer manner. "Not knowing what is happening in the world beyond your cell is maddening – like nothing exists outside of the four walls, like you don't exist anymore. Maybe I don't deserve to be accorded the right to be treated like a human being but I have been given you; gifted you, it might be argued. And I am very much the type of person that will take advantage of your visits and the influence the necessity of my touch has over you to make my life as bearable as I can make it. You think you would be able to cope with not knowing what's happening out there if the roles were reversed?" She frowned and he gently touched his fingers to hers again, making the most of her uncertainty. "It feels uncomfortable because you're giving me what I want. In your mind you can't accept that it doesn't automatically make it wrong… But it's just knowledge of the outside world, Granger, nothing more," he assured her as his fingers traced up her arms, making her shiver and close her eyes once more.

"Knowledge can be very powerful," she pointed out cautiously, as her fingers instinctively grabbed at the fabric near his elbows to prevent him from pulling away.

Antonin smirked. "Very," he agreed softly. "As it will be for me; whatever news you give will feed me, sustain me, through my research."

The next few minutes passed in silence and Antonin was satisfied enough with the encounter to not push for more information. If there had been no activity from the Dark Lord's forces then there wasn't much she could tell him (or, more accurately, would be willing to tell him) that was of interest to him. It would be far better for her to feel like she had gotten more out of this first exchange without there being any implications. On her next visit he would push for a lot more and he fully anticipated that there would be a lot more to say on that occasion. Antonin was sure that the Dark Lord would start his attacks soon whilst the Ministry was still attempting to organise itself in the wake of the revelation that their worst nightmare had returned. Delaying for much longer would be a wasted opportunity for the Dark Lord to strike when his opponents were so weak, especially if the Ministry elected a stronger, more capable leader.

Granger let out a contented sigh and shifted her feet slightly to position her body all-but flush against him. She had to have done so unconsciously because even Antonin was mildly uncomfortable with how close they were to each other and he could only imagine her reaction should she open her eyes to see the gap between them to be almost non-existent. He focused on continuing the soothing actions of his hands as they explored the length of her arms as far as the material of her sleeves would allow him. He had half a mind to suggest that she remove her cloak to allow him easier access when she murmured something he didn't quite catch.

"What did you say?"

"Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour," she said slightly louder this time, leaving him a little puzzled until she clarified. "They're the favourites for the Minister job."

"I see," he murmured lowly, hiding from her just how pleased he was that she had chosen to divulge this information without any persuasion from him. If he'd thought he was happy with their first exchange before, that satisfaction increased tenfold after her words and he determined not to say or do anything antagonistic to set him back again. He would make slipups along the way, he was almost certain of that, but he felt a renewed confidence that he'd have his little zhar-ptitsa eating out of his hand before long…

"I know that you'll want to curse me if I ask this again," Tonks began apologetically as she and Hermione walked up to the Burrow after returning from Azkaban, "but are you sure you're OK?"

Hermione resisted letting out a noisy sigh of exasperation because she knew Tonks was just worried for her. "He didn't hurt me, Tonks, I promise," she replied wearily. "He just used his hands on my arms and I don't think he even called me a mudblood once after you left the room."

Tonks frowned. "Well, just be careful, Hermione. He's a sly, manipulative bastard that one. You'd think all those years in Azkaban would leave him a bit more unhinged, wouldn't you? But he knew exactly how to play his hand to get me to leave you and he kept calling my bloody Nymphadora just to get under my skin. How do you think he knew that would work?" she posed and then smiled wryly at Hermione. "Well, it is a ridiculous name, it's a safe bet that I'd hate it, I suppose."

Hermione let Tonks' words fill her mind so that she didn't have to think too much. She wasn't surprised that the auror kept asking her if she was alright because, the truth was, she most definitely wasn't. However, the last thing she wanted was Tonks and the others hovering over her in concern; she just had to keep her feelings buried until she was alone.

Mrs Weasley hurried over to her as soon as she entered the Burrow's kitchen, anxious to know that everything had gone smoothly. Hermione tried to inject a little more emotion into her wooden replies, knowing that Molly would need a lot of convincing before accepting Hermione's claim that she was fine.

Other members of the family arrived in the kitchen as news of Hermione's return spread through the Burrow, while Molly forced Hermione into a chair at the table and pushed a plate of toast towards her.

"You barely touched your dinner or breakfast, dear," Mrs Weasley reminded her. "You eat your fill now that it's over."

Hermione eyed the toast apathetically, not in the least bit hungry, especially with the way everyone was trying not to stare at her. "Actually, Mrs Weasley, I'm just very tired. Would it be alright if I went to bed for a little while?"

"Of course, dear," she replied, a look of motherly concern showing on her face. "The plate's charmed to keep the toast warm so just take it up with you in case you get hungry."

Hermione thanked Tonks and the Weasleys for looking out for her before forcing herself to walk at a reasonable pace up to the room she shared with Ginny. She placed the plate on the bedside table, resolving to eat a little at some point so as to keep Mrs Weasley pacified, before unclasping her cloak. As she returned the garment to the wardrobe, she shivered, realising just how much her body temperature had been lowered by Dolohov's touch. Involuntarily, she glanced down at her previously concealed arms and felt her stomach clench in shame at the recollection of how wonderful his hands had felt tracing patterns across her skin; about how she had given him what he wanted just so she could feel his touch…

She couldn't bear to look at the offending flesh so she roughly grabbed a sweater, pulling it over herself as the first tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

When Ginny cautiously entered the room a couple of minutes later, Hermione's tears had developed into full blown sobs as she sat on the floor, hugging her legs to her chest as she cried into her knees.

Ginny immediately sank next to her friend, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "Oh, Hermione…"

A/N Thanks for reading! Hopefully this made up for the lack of Antonin in the last chapter! Let me know if you liked it.

Love,

Red

PS Happy New Year! I hope 2018 is a great year for you.