A/N No, you're not imagining it: this is a genuine update. I am SO relieved to finally bring you the next part of this fic. I am incredibly sorry that it has taken over a year. I never would've predicted that length of a wait. I can't say that there's a particular reason for it except that I lost enthusiasm for Harry Potter ff in general (I haven't read any in AGES) and I found that I was inspired to write for other fandoms instead over on AO3. Sorry for cheating on you all but I can honestly say that it never crossed my mind to abandon this story, so hopefully that reassures you if there's ever a long wait again.

Thank you for those who have faithfully stuck by me and prompted me with reviews to check that I'm still alive - sorry that I haven't replied to you guys this time. But I'm here now! Let's get on with Chapter 14.

Harry stared after Hermione's retreating figure in quiet dismay and frustration as she made her way out of the Great Hall. She'd left her chicken and mushroom pie half-eaten and hadn't bothered with a helping of apple crumble and custard for dessert. In contrast, the loud scraping sound of cutlery from beside him proved that Ron was having no difficulty in completing his own dinner. If Ron was aware that his manner had driven Hermione away then he seemed to be showing little contrition about it.

A balled up piece of parchment hit Harry's forehead and he instinctively caught it before it tumbled into a tureen of buttered peas. He glanced around, hoping to spot the culprit and his stomach jolted when his eyes met Ginny's gaze. So often had he found his thoughts drifting to her that day that for a moment he wondered if he was imagining it, but then he noticed her aggravated appearance - his unprompted fantasies of Ginny had certainly not featured such a ticked-off expression so he realised this must be real. She nodded her head at the parchment in his hand and Harry flushed, aware that he had been staring at her for far too long. He averted his gaze down to the rumpled correspondence and read: If you don't tell my dickhead brother to stop being a prick to Hermione then I will…

Harry grimaced for a number of reasons. Firstly, there was the reference to Ron's recent behaviour. His best friend had already been in low spirits because of his sub-par keeping skills, but ever since last night's bizarre argument between Ron and Ginny about kissing he'd been cold and cutting to everyone, but particularly Hermione. As far as Harry could tell, the reason behind Ron's unpleasantness towards her was down to Ginny's revelation that Viktor Krum had snogged Hermione and, well, Ron hadn't, but apparently wanted to. It wasn't something that Harry was keen to dwell on: the thought of his two best friends being 'together' was confusing and unsettling. For a while he'd sensed that there was something there between them but whatever it was seemed to have cooled not long after Hermione was struck with Dolohov's curse. Regardless, Ron had still been acting like a jerk to her for no good reason and that had made Harry more uncomfortable than any qualms he had about the two of them dating. Hermione didn't deserve to be spoken to that way and Harry was a little ashamed of himself for not calling Ron out about it already. That was the second reason for his displeasure at Ginny's message. He felt bad enough already - he didn't want Ginny to think of him as being a shitty, unsupportive friend to Hermione. Thirdly, he knew very well that if Ginny followed through on her pledge to talk to Ron, it would end in disaster, detentions and most likely a couple of trips to the Hospital Wing. After all, it was their initial argument that had caused this mess in the first place.

Harry quickly screwed up the parchment once more in his fist to prevent Ron from seeing it (because that would cause a Weasley showdown that nobody needed to witness) but a glance at his best friend proved that it was hardly necessary: Ron was happily stuffing large spoonfuls of apple crumble into his mouth, staring into the bowl of dessert as though it was the answer to life's problems.

Harry glanced over at Ginny and tried not to flush when he saw that she was still staring at him. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and Harry nodded quickly, silently reassuring her that he'd talk to her brother. If he thought that this would please Ginny then he was quite wrong. Instead of smiling, she simply eyed him for a couple of seconds as though assessing whether she believed him or not, then sniffed (Harry could tell, even if he couldn't hear her do so) and turned back to her dinner and Dean bloody Thomas.

Harry frowned at the remains of his rapidly cooling pie as he contemplated Ginny's opinion of him and, more worryingly, the forthcoming conversation he had to have with the man next to him. Ron had been his first ever friend and they were incredibly close - how could they not be after all they had been through? Although Harry didn't know what it truly felt like to have a sibling, he considered Ron to be akin to a brother. And (apart from when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire) they'd always had each other's backs. Harry could easily name half a dozen times over the years when he wouldn't have blamed Ron for walking away from their friendship, but he hadn't. He had stood by Harry from day one on the train, defending him ever since from Malfoy, attention seekers, Death Eaters and everything in between. He and Ron were loyal to each other, and an unwritten part of their friendship seemed to include not criticising your friend when they were being a bit of an arse. Ron hadn't really called Harry out for his angry outbursts last year, even though he'd definitely been unfairly venting at his friends. In fact, it had been Hermione who had calmly asked Harry to stop jumping down their throats.

If Ron had been loyal, then Hermione had been even more so. She had never stepped away from their friendship. In truth, Harry realised with a guilty lurch, he had been the one to distance himself after she'd told Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt in Third Year. Hermione had been a far better friend to Harry than he'd been to her. She didn't deserve to be treated the way Ron was acting towards her. Not only was it none of her fault (she was obviously free to kiss whoever she liked) but Harry was sure she'd stand up for him if the situations were reversed (however strange that scenario would be). He'd been attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione without actually addressing the cause of the iciness between them. So now, whether it would cause friction in his friendship with Ron, whether it upset his keeper further only a couple of weeks before their first match, he needed to step up and tell Ron that he was out of line.

Harry contemplated doing it right then and there in the Great Hall, but he held back. Most people would do their best to avoid losing their cool in such a public setting but he wasn't sure that Ron wouldn't kick off regardless of the couple hundred witnesses. Instead, he held his tongue and glumly ate some apple crumble.

The two of them started the journey up to Gryffindor Tower in silence and Harry waited until they were in a deserted corridor before he tentatively said, "Er, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

Harry tried to ignore the dejection in his friend's voice and ploughed on, "Look, I know that you've not been in the best of moods since, um, yesterday." Ron gave him a grouchy look but didn't say anything. "And, well, I know I got angry a lot last year and I took it out on people who didn't deserve it."

"So?" Ron snapped as they turned the corner.

"I don't want you to be an arsehole like I was," Harry said.

Ron halted and looked at Harry with a narrowed gaze and surly mouth. "Yeah? Maybe I feel like being an arsehole," he said belligerently.

Harry tried not to let his frustration show. He decided to get to the point in the hopes that it would bring the conversation to a close quicker. "The way you've been speaking to Hermione today - it's not on. She doesn't deserve it." Ron's glare intensified as red crept up his neck. "I can understand you being angry at Dean and Ginny, but Hermione's done absolutely nothing wrong. You're supposed to be her friend."

Ron's mouth twisted silently at those words and he breathed noisily through his nose, fists clenched at his side.

Harry felt for his friend - for both of his friends. This wasn't easy for any of them to go through. "I know what Ginny said last night upset you," Harry continued gently and that was as direct as he would let himself be in reference to whatever Ron felt towards Hermione, and it was conveniently vague enough that they could both pretend that Harry was referring to any other caustic comments Ginny had made. "I would be hurt too." An unwanted image of Ginny and Dean snogging flashed up in his mind and he swatted it away instantly. "But you know how much Hermione needs our support right now," he said, his voice low.

Ron finally glanced away and swallowed thickly. "I know," he admitted hoarsely. "She's got to see that bastard every few days… She doesn't need me being a complete dickhead to her." His fists unclenched and his shoulders slumped. "I- I'm sorry."

Harry patted Ron's arm, hugely relieved. "It's okay, mate. I'm sure you can make it up to her."

Ron nodded morosely and they resumed their journey to the Tower. Harry tried to lighten the mood with a few different conversation topics but received only grunts from Ron in response.

Hermione eyed Ron coldly as they approached her table in the Common Room, not that Ron could really see as he stared down at his shoes. Through his own gaze, Harry tried to silently beg Hermione to give Ron a chance. She caught his eyes for a moment and her expression became slightly less hostile. Harry gave Ron an encouraging pat on the back and then discreetly held his breath.

"I'm sorry for being an arse," Ron said glumly, barely raising his head from staring at the floor. "I was out of line." He shrugged dejectedly. "Everything's so shit right now."

Hermione's eyes quickly darted around the immediate vicinity, probably checking that there were no innocent younger students around to overhear a prefect cursing. Upon finding none, she sighed. "Yes, it is," she agreed sadly, which was the closest Harry had ever come to hearing her swear.

Ron finally risked looking up at her, but his expression was still hesitant. "Are we OK?"

She stared at him for a few seconds and Harry could see Ron becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the moment stretched out. It hadn't been much of an apology but bearing in mind that it came from Ron, that actually made it semi-decent.

Hermione nodded but she didn't smile or soften. "We're alright," she said, the lack of great warmth in her voice casting doubt on whether Ron's behaviour truly was forgiven - it certainly wasn't going to be forgotten.

Ron lowered his gaze again as his ears turned pink. "I'm going to bed," he muttered. "Night."

Harry would've much preferred for the three of them to stay together in the hopes that things would start to go back to normal, but he knew that he was hoping for too much too soon. Besides, he wanted to spend time with Hermione and having Ron around in his current state might end up pushing her to leave instead.

Even though he spent hours with her every day in class, Harry missed Hermione.

Over the summer, all of her free time was taken up with her studies of Russian and Dolohov's notebooks, and then they'd returned to school where there was also her mountain of homework, her apparation tutoring and her Occlumency lessons with Snape - not to mention her prefect duties and Harry's quidditch commitments as the new captain. She'd even attended a couple of Slughorn's Slug Club meetings that Harry had steadfastly refused to attend.

It felt like Hermione was drifting away from him.

He wouldn't let that happen.

"Can I join you?" he asked, indicating a chair that was currently occupied by a few of her books.

She'd been watching Ron's retreating figure with a frown but her expression brightened when she turned to Harry. "Of course. I was saving this seat for you, that's why I always have books there."

"Oh, sometimes it's hard to tell," he murmured honestly.

She threw a bemused look in his direction then glanced down at all the homework spread out on the table. She frowned and sighed. "I guess I can see how this looks less like an invitation to you than it was intended. Sorry about that."

Harry helped her start to dislodge all the books so that he could sit down. "That's alright. Now I know that a massive pile of homework is actually your secret code to join you, I won't hesitate to interrupt your studies whenever I see you." Hermione paused at his comment, looking faintly alarmed, and Harry gave her a teasing grin.

"Ha, ha," she said flatly, which only made him smile wider as he finally sat down. After lightly rolling her eyes and shaking her head, her expression became more earnest. "You can interrupt me though - you know that, don't you? If you need me for anything. I know that I always look busy - "

"You are always busy," Harry pointed out lightly because it was true.

She looked a little pained at his comment. "But I'm never too busy for you."

He nodded. "I know that," he told her seriously. "I promise, I do."

She held his gaze for a moment and then looked satisfied that she believed him. "Good."

"And you know that I'm always here for you too, right?" Harry said. "Whatever you need."

"Of course," she replied warmly. "You're my best friend."

Harry's stomach lurched guiltily. "I should have said something to Ron as soon as he started acting like a prat this morning - I'm really sorry, Hermione."

She shook her head. "It's not your job to police Ron - he's more than old enough to be accountable for his own behaviour."

"I know, but I still should have stood up for you more."

Hermione frowned. "Did I do something wrong to make him upset?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "No. He had a fight with Ginny last night, it turned a bit ugly and personal."

"So why did he decide to take it out on me?"

"Errr…" The word stretched out as Harry internally panicked about how to answer her question without making things worse. Hermione's eyes narrowed on him and he could swear that sweat started to trickle down his spine.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes again. "You look like you're about to pass out. Forget I asked before you faint into my Charms essay."

Harry tried not to slump with relief. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his face flooding with heat. Was he being a shitty friend? It certainly felt like it, particularly after he'd just promised Hermione that she could count on him.

"If it was something you thought I should know, you'd tell me," Hermione stated, her gaze intense where it met his own.

He felt awed by her faith in him and more than a little humbled by it. "I would," he rasped, his throat suddenly dry. "I swear."

She half-smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. "I think that's enough promises and vows for one night, don't you?" she said kindly.

He chuckled somewhat self-consciously but he squeezed her hand back. "Yeah, probably."

"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked conversationally.

"Nothing in particular," Harry replied. "I just wanted to spend time with you."

The slightly surprised expression he received from her at those words was quickly followed by a warm smile that lit up her whole face, and it only confirmed his recent realisation that he needed to make Hermione more of a priority in his life. I'm sorry, he told her silently as she talked to him about the Slug Club meeting she'd somehow found time to attend last week. I'll do better.

All the air rushed out of Hermione's lungs as though she'd been hit in the gut with a bludger.

She'd only turned to see what had gotten the packed, lively crowd to start cheering and whistling amidst an already rather raucous celebration at Gryffindor's emphatic win over Slytherin.

It had been a day of strained emotions, following what had already been an uncomfortable couple of weeks ever since Ron had entered into his foul mood. He had only actually been rude to Hermione that one day but his dark and surly frame of mind had persisted, making him gloomy and despondent. Honestly, it was quite pitiful, especially because Hermione knew that the prevailing reason for his depression was his unhappiness at his quidditch skills. Obviously, she knew that Ron, Harry and plenty of others took the sport incredibly seriously but, at the end of the day, it was just a game. Her sympathies could only stretch so far, especially given everything else that was currently happening in the country. Still, she tried to be supportive and patient, and she did appreciate that he at least attempted to be more cheerful around her - even if his efforts were sometimes painfully awkward in their falseness.

Hermione still didn't know what she'd done to earn his initial displeasure but when she'd tentatively raised the matter with Ginny, the other girl had scoffed so hard that it sounded like she had her pygmy puff stuck in her throat. "Forget him," Ginny said, now rolling her eyes. "He was just being a jealous priggish prick," she'd added hotly, which only confused Hermione more.

She'd been hopeful that they'd all be able to move on once the match against Slytherin was over, regardless of the result. What she hadn't counted on was Harry using her in his scheme to make Ron believe he'd ingested a dose of Felix Felicis. She hadn't meant to imply that the only way he could've saved all those goals was through a lucky potion - Ron had believed exactly the same thing himself, after all - but he'd lashed out at her all the same before storming off. Harry had looked incredibly guilty that his trick had produced unexpected consequences. As they walked up to the Common Room, he'd apologised for unwittingly involving her and her law-abiding indignation to sell his deception. Hermione had forgiven him and decided to cut Ron some slack - he had been under immense pressure lately and suffering with his self-esteem. She'd give him time to cool off and then make amends in the morning because she did feel rather awful for hurting his feelings.

Still, the most important thing was that Gryffindor had won and her friends had all played well: there was finally some good news to celebrate after months of constant worry and stress. She had begun to enjoy herself until she turned around to see Ron kissing Lavender, and it felt like she couldn't breathe.

She had to get out of the Common Room. There was too much noise. There were too many people. It was just too much.

She almost stumbled as she moved hurriedly through the crowd towards the portrait hole, but the rushing in her ears hardly diminished once she'd stepped into the quiet of the corridor. Still struggling to draw in enough breath, she shakily made her way over to the nearest abandoned classroom and braced herself against the desk to try and regain control of herself. There were tears in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

"Hermione?" Harry called tentatively and she tried not to cringe. She'd so hoped that nobody had noticed her leaving, and she rapidly blinked her unshed tears away.

Harry was at her side in an instant, his hand placed comfortingly on her back. "It's OK," he told her, though he sounded slightly uncertain. "You're alright. Just breathe." She momentarily turned her head so that she could make eye contact with him and attempted to give him a reassuring smile while she did as he instructed.

After a couple of minutes, her breathing was much steadier and she was able to stand up straight, but she couldn't bring herself to face Harry yet. While she'd been focusing on just getting air in her lungs, her emotions had been quietly simmering but now they rushed to the forefront of her mind. "I hate him so much," she said bitterly, her fingers curling into fists.

"What?" Harry gasped, removing his comforting hand. "Just for kissing Lavender?!"

Hermione whirled around and looked at him like he'd gone mad. "Dolohov," she stated firmly. "Not Ron!"

Harry flushed red. "Oh. I thought… When you ran off…" He trailed off into silence and Hermione would've been tempted to laugh if she didn't feel like simultaneously screaming and crying.

"I can see how you might have thought that," she said instead and crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her shoes. She gave a half shrug of a shoulder. "A few months ago you would've been right." She said the words casually even though it was the first time she'd ever even hinted to anyone that she'd once had feelings for Ron, and she could feel a blush breaking out on her face too. "I can't say that it made me happy to see him snogging someone so blatantly for all the world to see." Her voice was getting heated and it certainly didn't sound like she was completely over her crush so she took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. "He's perfectly entitled to kiss whomever he likes - that wasn't what made me react like that." She gave another little shrug. "Not really."

Harry's continued silence made her glance upwards. His face was strained, as though he was trying very hard not to look confused. "OK," he said, but the inflection he put on the word made it sound more like a question.

"It reminded me of what Dolohov's taken from me," she confessed quietly. "While I'm dependent on him, I've lost the chance to be normal - to have a sweetheart." To have Ron, Hermione added silently. She didn't feel that way anymore but if Dolohov hadn't cursed her would she feel differently? Would they be together, celebrating Gryffindor's win and making plans to go to Slughorn's Christmas party in a few weeks?

"But you can still have that if it's what you want," Harry told her, stepping forwards to take her hands in his. "You can," he insisted in response to her sceptical look.

"I'm damaged goods," Hermione said bleakly, withdrawing her hands.

"Hey - don't say that!"

"Why not? It's true," she retorted defensively. "I'm literally cursed to spend my future with a merciless man who tried to kill me. You think anyone would want to be with me when their touch would cause me pain every few days? That they wouldn't be revolted whenever I returned from Azkaban, knowing that his hands had been on me? And what if it gets worse? What if I have to see him every day? I wouldn't subject anyone to that - it's better for everyone if I'm alone."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "It's not going to come to that - you're going to be cured, Hermione. I know it."

"No, you don't," she stated firmly, her anger still simmering.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue but then his face became pained and she hated Dolohov all the more. He'd taken her health, freedom and future from her and the way his touch made her feel left her feeling dirty. He'd robbed her of her innocence and happiness, and he thought it was all a game.

For the first time since that night in the Department of Mysteries, white hot fury welled up in her for all she had lost because of Antonin Dolohov.

At that moment, the classroom door opened. A laughing Ron entered, pulling a giggling Lavender behind him by the hand. Hermione's heart twisted at such a cruel visual representation of her loss. She knew Ron hadn't been trying to hurt her when he'd kissed Lavender in front of everyone, that he'd have had no idea that she was in this classroom to get away from her pain, but her wand was suddenly in her hand.

There was a split second where her eyes connected with Ron's, his shock and confusion evident as the smile faded from his face.

As an incantation formed with eerie calm on her tongue, Harry's arm darted out and forced her aim wide. At the same time, Ron instinctively took a step backwards and the spell flew a couple of feet away from him, impacting harmlessly against the stone wall.

Horrified, Hermione dropped her wand and her anger instantly vanished, replaced by a deep shame, disbelief and revulsion.

"Ow, Ron, you stood on my foot," Lavender complained, still half-giggling. Ron's step backwards must have blocked the spell from Lavender's view, but Ron didn't reply. Hermione could feel him staring at her, just like Harry was. "Come on, let's go somewhere else," Lavender suggested.

"Er, yeah," Ron said dazedly. "Sure."

Hermione glanced over at him before Lavender could pull him away. He was looking at Hermione as though he'd never seen her before and she tried to convey to him how sorry she was before the door swung shut, hiding him from view.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and hid her face in her hands. What had she just done? What did she nearly do? "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Harry's reassuring hand was on her back again and she turned, throwing her arms around him. He stumbled back a step at the sudden intensity of her embrace and then he held her return. "It's OK, no harm done."

She shuddered. If Harry hadn't jolted her arm, he wouldn't be saying that. "It was a hex from one of Dolohov's books," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

His hand faltered where it had been rubbing her back soothingly and she felt him swallow thickly. "The spell missed. It's alright. Nobody got hurt."

"It would've made him feel like he was on fire," she whispered, still utterly horrified by her actions. "I don't even know if there's a counter-curse." She pulled away from Harry so that she could look him in the eyes. "Why would I do that to someone I care about?"

Harry looked almost as terrified as she felt. "You didn't - you missed."

"Only because you stopped me!" she cried, and backed away from him. "I'm a horrible, wicked person."

"No, Hermione. That's not true," he denied, making a grab for her hand. She gasped when their skin made contact, her eyes widening in surprise and a wave of despair flowed through her, nearly forcing her to her knees. "Oh no," Harry breathed, dropping his hand at once at her reaction. "It hurts?"

"It doesn't burn," she replied, her voice thick with suppressed emotion. "But it's definitely uncomfortable."

Harry looked pained at the admission, his face pinched and pale. "But it's early, isn't it?"

She nodded stiffly. "By a couple of days." It couldn't be a coincidence but neither mentioned the fact.

He sighed dejectedly. "Do you need to see him?"

Hermione looked upwards and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that were forming at the prospect of having to see Dolohov after everything that had happened that day. It was only a prickling sensation, nothing terrible, but it could evolve into something much worse quite quickly so she knew what she had to do. She nodded.

Harry swore softly but she was too dispirited to chastise him. "Come on, let's get you to McGonagall. I doubt Snape's in a good mood after we thumped Slytherin earlier - not that he's ever in a good mood."

Hermione hesitated. "I should tell Professor McGonagall what happened. About the hex. I deserve to be punished for what I did."

Harry shook his head. "Nobody needs to know what happened because you didn't do anything. But - " he added quickly when she tried to protest. "I'm pretty sure that having to go to Azkaban and see Dolohov qualifies as being punishment enough."

Hermione's stomach lurched even as her heart started beating faster. It was a punishment, yes, but it would also bring her great pleasure that she didn't deserve. Pleasure that she absolutely didn't want. She didn't, even if she could feel her body reacting excitedly in anticipation. It made her want to throw up.

After a quick diversion so she could grab her cloak and a potion, Harry escorted her down to Professor McGonagall's office, murmuring reassurances to her most of the way.

"It's going to be alright. I promise," he told her before he knocked on the Deputy Headmistress's door. Hermione only wished that she could believe him.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall didn't question why she was needing to visit Dolohov ahead of schedule and they made a swift and undisturbed journey through the school and into the grounds.

Hermione knew that she should be using the time to prepare her mind for the upcoming encounter. Her hard work with Occlumency had finally begun paying off because on her previous two visits to Azkaban she had been able to distance herself from the effect of his touch much more effectively than she ever had before. She hadn't been swept away by the sensation of the relief and she had felt in control the entire time. Unfortunately, she knew that wouldn't be the case this time: her thoughts and emotions were far too intense and erratic. However, as they got closer to the gates, she found that she wasn't particularly annoyed about that because she hadn't received the full pleasure of his touch for nearly a month and, although that was the aim, she'd missed it.

Her self-disgust at that fact diminished with every step she took through the hellish prison, but her anger with Dolohov grew. After all, everything was his fault. She hated that he made her body respond eagerly to his touch so much that she craved it beyond all reason, hated that he'd ruined her blossoming feelings with Ron in such a way that she'd attempted to curse him with such a dark hex, hated how much just one curse from him had hurt her and those she cared about.

There was a gleam in his eyes when she entered his cell. "This is an unexpected pleasure," he said silkily, closing the distance between them, and she hated the way her heart fluttered excitedly when their gazes met and he came close enough that she could breathe in his intoxicating scent.

A/N I imagine some of you are cursing my name right now - a 17 month wait and you only see Antonin for two seconds! He was supposed to be in this chapter more but it was getting too long and I wanted to have his PoV included, so the next chapter will continue with this scene through his eyes. I am really hopeful that it won't be long before the next chapter is written (but I know I've said that before so you are perfectly justified in doubting my word).

I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter - or if you guys are even still out there!

Take care, everyone.

Red