A/N Hi everyone. I tried to update this story a couple of weeks ago but the site was down, and then I forgot to check it was working again so I could post the new chapter. Sorry about the delay.

Severus had not been surprised to hear that Albus would be absent from the school for the entirety of the Easter holidays, even if the headmaster had only just returned from an eight day leave. He still had no idea what Albus was doing on these trips but he didn't question the necessity of them. He would say that he'd come way too far to start doubting Dumbledore now but that wasn't entirely true. If it was, he'd have told the old man about Granger.

Her name had yet to come up but Severus knew it was only a matter of time. Whenever he and Albus met alone, their discussions mostly consisted of three topics: any communications he'd had with the Dark Lord or his followers, Draco, and Granger - the last two usually as mere footnotes in which Severus said that he had no updates to report. Regrettably, that was still the truth in Draco's case: the boy was avoiding him like dragon pox. Severus had no idea what Draco's next attempt on the headmaster's life would entail but he feared that the boy would resort to even more desperate and reckless attempts in order to get the job done as his time slipped away. They would soon be entering the final term of the year. Only three months left… But until Draco made another move or decided to let him in, Severus was helpless to do anything.

Granger was quite a different matter. Her situation had worsened (and not just because she was now needing to see Dolohov more frequently) and there were things that Severus could do in response to the quietly alarming way his relationship with her had shifted, but instead he had chosen not to act. So far.

There were a few justifications for his inactivity - some that had been valid for many months - but also his observations of Granger since she had confronted him (her interactions with her friends, performance in her studies and duties carried out as a prefect) suggested that she was keeping what she knew about Draco and the precariousness of her own situation to herself. For now.

After their conversation a couple of nights ago, Severus had spent the wait for her return replaying everything that she'd said, gleaning what he could from her reactions and body language. He was both concerned at her slipping further away from his own control, and grudgingly impressed with her composure. It was clear that she no longer trusted him, which was frustrating after the months he'd worked on building up her faith in him and the small personal compromises he'd made to his own strict rules in order to keep her alive. But he didn't blame her for cutting her ties to him. The smartest thing for her to do would've been to pretend that she didn't know the truth - and while she appeared to be doing that with everyone else - with him she had chosen not to for some reason. To him, that proved that she had not been lost to Dolohov's sway, not completely. Severus's deception had hurt her and she wasn't cold-hearted enough to mask that wound completely. Though she stated that she didn't trust Dolohov, Severus could only see that man worming deeper and deeper into her mind - especially now that the prisoner had been proved right about the danger she potentially faced from her allies. How was Severus supposed to fight back against him now that his own standing in Granger's eyes had been so devastated? He couldn't compete with Dolohov's access to her, to the power of the other man's touch, to the bond that he'd sensed beginning to form between them during their time together. No, Severus had to hope that Granger remained steadfastly loyal to Potter, even if her trust in the Order had been broken. He'd seen no evidence to suggest that she was any less devoted to her friend - even when they'd drifted earlier in the year, Granger had been doing so because she'd naively thought that she was protecting Potter. Dolohov would have to work a minor miracle to convince Granger to abandon the boy, which was a small relief in the wider pit of concern Severus felt about the whole situation.

So if Severus could no longer protect Granger by being her confidant about her sessions with Dolohov, he would need to find another way to help keep her alive.

"And what about Miss Granger?" Dumbledore eventually asked, when Severus had finished speaking of his most recent summons to the Dark Lord over a fortnight ago. "Minerva tells me that the curse has recently progressed to demand visits to Antonin every eight days."

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I escorted her just two evenings ago."

"A worrying development," Albus said sadly. "I had hoped that the curse had settled at a nine day cycle but this indicates that it will continue to demand more and more from her."

"Indeed."

Dumbledore stared at one of the whirring contraptions on his desk. "And there has been no progress in Antonin's attempts to find a cure?"

"Miss Granger hasn't spoken of any," Severus replied.

"Perhaps the damage is truly permanent," Albus said, still watching the golden metal spin. "Or Antonin has decided it's in his best interests not to find a way to relinquish his hold on Hermione."

Severus remained still. Was this the moment that he had been dreading? Pain throbbed in his temple. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence - a product of the strain he was under, which seemed to have grown in the last months. Obviously, fulfilling his role as a spy within both camps had never been carefree nor easy, but by utilising his skills he felt like he'd managed to navigate the treacherous paths effectively and with a decent amount of control. This year, with Draco and Granger thrown into the mix, that control had become sand slipping through his fingers. The situation with both students was so precariously balanced. For someone whose expertise was to work in the shadows, Severus uneasily found himself at the very centre of both their troubles, that he held the responsibility for making sure that the scales didn't tip into disaster. There was only the whole fucking magical world at stake if he made a wrong step. No pressure.

"Either way," Dumbledore continued, his voice strangely toneless, "we can assume that Hermione will be dependent on Antonin for a long while yet."

"He needs to be incarcerated at a new location," Severus said, unable to stand the inaction any longer. If he was somehow now responsible for Granger, he must do what he thought was best for her chances of survival to aid Potter. "We know Azkaban is vulnerable. The Dark Lord will strike to free his followers again."

"Has there been any mention of an attempt recently?" Dumbledore enquired calmly.

"Nothing to suggest that there is an imminent move," he replied. "He has been speaking vaguely about storming the prison for months but always 'when the time is right'. With the way he is gaining strength, I cannot see him waiting more than a few months - perhaps in the summer when all the students are vulnerable, back in their own homes. With some of his most dangerous followers unleashed back into the country he could create chaos and misery."

Albus nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to another oscillating device at the side of the office. "That sounds like a reasonable assumption."

"Then we need to get Dolohov moved somewhere more secure before that - earlier, if possible," Severus urged.

"Unfortunately, such a move is not in our control and I fear that Scrimgeour and his Ministry will not be keen to do our bidding, Severus. I do not wish to antagonise them by insinuating that their defences are inadequate, not when they could prevent Hermione's entrance to the prison at all." His calm acceptance of the situation was beginning to aggravate Severus.

"I understand that," he said, tone sliding towards coldness. "Relations with the Ministry are very prickly at present because of your unwillingness to play into the niceties of politics - Potter and Granger, too. But surely this - Granger's continued safety and therefore Potter's peace of mind - are worth the compromise?"

Dumbledore finally looked at him but his expression was guarded.

"Potter needs her, and she needs Dolohov," Severus stated simply. He'd always believed the old man thought too highly of Potter, but how Dumbledore couldn't see the amount the boy depended on Granger's brains and sense was astonishing. How much he underestimated her! Everything that Albus had been working on to try and stop the Dark Lord would be rendered pointless if they lost Granger. Why was Dumbledore willing to risk it all by not fighting harder to save her? Would it really be too high a cost if Potter and Dumbledore had to play nice with Scrimgeour for a few minutes? Even if her reliance on Dolohov was a risk, she was worth so much more alive than the safety they'd gain at her death.

"I will consider it whilst I am absent," Albus eventually said. "It would have to be delicately handled but I can, of course, see the merits behind your suggestion."

A tiny part of the Granger-related tension that Severus had been carrying around for weeks lessened.

"Have you gleaned anything from her mind lately?" the headmaster asked.

"No," he replied truthfully. "Her shields are now too advanced. Even if someone were to break through or catch her unawares, she has mastered creating false memories as well, so you would have a difficult time determining their validity."

Dumbledore actually smiled. "Ah. It appears you have taught her too well, Severus, but we can hardly be surprised at her proficiency. She is a quite remarkable witch. It would be a great shame to lose her."

"Quite." Severus only hoped that he'd done enough to convince him that it was not a loss worth enduring.

Hermione was so swept up in her eagerness to see Antonin again that it took her a few seconds to realise that she had pulled well ahead of the auror who was meant to be accompanying her up to his cell. She and her otter turned around and saw the auror a few yards back, staring in consternation at her wand. Hermione retraced her steps, glad that they were currently in a corridor that housed no prisoners.

"Expecto Patronum," the auror muttered agitatedly, but not even a wisp of silvery mist emanated from the tip of her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" Still nothing. She glanced up at Hermione.

Perhaps it was a bit rude but Hermione never paid much attention to the aurors stationed at Azkaban - they never spoke to her and she was usually deep within the hood of her cloak, focused on her oncoming session with Antonin. The aurors often seemed resentful about having to leave their warded guardroom to escort her and she could hardly blame them. Many aspects of an auror's job were vital, and guarding some of the most dangerous criminals in the country was certainly up there, but Hermione doubted that any aurors volunteered for this particular role.

She had assumed that she had encountered every auror who rotated through Akzaban duty but as she peered below the edge of her hood, she now saw that this was a different face. The woman was on the younger side - late twenties or early thirties perhaps - with reddish-gold bobbed hair, a pale complexion, a smaller than average mouth and deep blue eyes. Her black auror robe was in very good condition, almost brand new, but the dragon-hide fingerless gloves she wore appeared both well-used and looked after. "Sorry," the woman murmured tensely, her small mouth only parting a fraction. "I'm a bit out of practice - been away from the job."

"Oh." This was the most any of the aurors had ever spoken to her before and she still suspected that they'd been ordered not to converse with her. She didn't think any of them even knew her name. But she could feel the shame rolling off the woman and so she tentatively asked, "Um, were you injured?"

The auror's mouth twitched. "No. I had a baby."

"Oh."

The auror gave a small defensive shrug. "It's been a bit of a struggle to adapt."

"I can imagine," Hermione replied with sympathy. Everyone was anxious in the wake of the war but it was surely worse for parents. A new parent returning to work as an auror - and to Azkaban in particular with all the horrors this place possessed - would understandably find it challenging. Hermione wondered whether the dark circles beneath the auror's eyes were the result of the demands of caring for a baby or the effect of many hours in close proximity to the Dementors. Probably both. "Well, we've got my otter," she said, half-turning to continue the journey.

The auror took a step forwards and the two women walked together. "I'll keep working on the spell while you're in the cell. If I still can't get it, I'll trade places with my colleague so he can escort you back."

They continued the rest of the short journey in silence until they were before Antonin's door. "Please don't doubt my capabilities," the auror said as Hermione stored her wand away. "The rest of my defensive and offensive spells are some of the strongest in the field. The patronus is just proving a bit elusive at the moment."

Hermione gave her a small nod. "I understand. Thank you."

The wards were modified to allow Hermione entrance and the eagerness that had been tempered by her interaction with the auror surged within her once more. Heart fluttering with excitement, she fought to keep a grin off of her face until she was safely through the door and away from the auror's scrutiny.

Instantly, she felt Antonin's intense stare on her, causing a completely different thrill of anticipation to pulse through her. Merlin, he was already an unfairly handsome man but the hungry expression he was sporting had her locking her unsteady knees. She desperately wanted him close, to feel his touch on her as she grounded herself to him but that could wait a few minutes - she had something to tell him.

"I did it!" she announced, smiling broadly as she lowered her hood. "It took a lot of work, and together we could probably refine it further, but I've tested it a few times and it definitely works." She thrust her left hand out beyond the sleeve of her cloak to reveal a thin unmarked silver-coloured bangle around her wrist.

"My spell?" Antonin asked, wide-eyed. He brought her hand closer to his face, his fingertips gently creating notes of pleasure into her skin that had her pressing her lips together. "It really works?"

She nodded.

He slid a hand across her jaw so that he was cupping her cheek and she automatically leaned into the exquisite relief of his touch. "My clever little witch," he murmured in his native tongue, his praise tingling through her skin and sparking along her nerves. But before she could revel in that sensation for too long, his lips were on hers and that was all she could focus on. She was aflame from the curse (the touch she was currently receiving from him was not enough to lessen the intensity of her burning yet) and Antonin's lips pressed firmly against hers ignited an additional sweeping heat within that threatened to overwhelm her - but she only wanted more.

To her disappointment, he kept the kiss short, pulling away after only a couple of seconds. But his fingers traced tickling patterns behind her ear as he stared into her eyes. "I want to hear all about it."

"I made notes, just like you asked," she said in a breathy voice and, after a moment's reluctance, she pulled away from him completely so that she could access the pockets of her cloak. Moving over to his work table, she retrieved his potion, the books he'd leant her about honing new spells and his notes on his creation, which were now bolstered by her own findings. Antonin instantly picked up the large bundle of parchment, tugging at the twine that bound it all together so that he could start leafing through its contents. "I had underestimated the number of different wand actions - it took me days to find the one that would bring forth the spell. Here." She took her parchments from him and shuffled the notes until they showed her methodical workings through the different wand gestures as described in Antonin's book.

He glanced down at them, turned the parchment over, and then looked over the next sheet too. "You tested them all?"

"Of course," she told him as she unfastened her cloak. "I wanted to be sure that I found the action that produced the strongest spell outcome. I wasn't going to stop at the first action that succeeded, not if it could be bettered." She frowned. "That's what your book said to do."

He smiled at her tone and reached out to cup her face again, his thumb tracing over her cheek. "I know, zhar-ptitsa." His tone was both reassuring and a little amused, and he followed it up with another quick kiss that thrilled and then disappointed her in equal amounts when he pulled away. "It's what I would've done in your place, of course. You did the right thing - I just wasn't expecting you to be so thorough."

"Oh. Well, that's just the way I work," she replied honestly, but she had to repress a whine when he returned his hand to her notes.

"Strong methodology produces strong results," he agreed, waving the parchment slightly. He moved onto the next sheets. "You needed to refine the incantation?"

"Not the words themselves. Any adaptations I tried produced no results," she explained, pointing out the notes that showed that aspect of her work. "But changing the stress pattern of the incantation's syllables produced a stronger result. The charm's indication of a successful cast is the object becoming momentarily hot to the touch. I kept playing around with the pronunciation and wand action until I found a combination that made one of the bracelets almost burning hot. Bracelets using that combination were able to protect the wearer against more forceful spells than the other models."

He nodded. "How did you go about testing it?"

"Well, my friends thought that I was working on a project for Arithmancy," she replied, feeling a small twinge of guilt at the deception. "Harry and Ron don't have any idea what Arithmancy is about even though I've tried to tell them a few times, so they believed me when I said that I'd been set a puzzle, the basics of a spell, and I had to try and figure out how to cast it properly without looking it up."

Antonin let out a small snort. "They believed that?"

Her cheeks warmed. "Yes."

"Even when they heard you say the incantation in Russian?"

Hermione shook her head. "They never heard me cast it - I did all of that on my own. They only helped me test the bracelets. We used an empty classroom to take turns to cast spells at each other - only mild things like levitations, disarming or harmless jinxes at first, until I was more confident about the correct casting technique. Then we moved onto more powerful spells - stunners, curses and hexes. It blocked them all." She smiled at him, flushed with the exhilaration of their success. She was beginning to understand how he had become so passionate about spell creation. Her previous experience in modifying the daydream charm hadn't been anywhere as satisfying as this - creating something completely new, sparking original magic into existence. And she hadn't even done most of the work. It had also been a welcome and absorbing distraction from her greater concerns about the Order and the mess her life was in.

But Antonin didn't look as pleased as she'd thought he would. "And those boys won't tell anyone about the spell?" he asked. "You told me you were going to be discreet. The whole point was to give you a small bit of protection that the Order won't know about. If they start blabbing -"

"I told you, they think it's all work for a project," she interrupted. "How else was I supposed to test it without getting friends to help me? I couldn't cast spells at myself."

He scowled. "Alright," he muttered after a slight pause. "But don't you have other friends you could have turned to? Ones that aren't connected to the Order?"

"No, I don't." It had been hard enough to get Harry and Ron to help her at first - even though they had almost nothing but free time thanks to the two weeks of Easter holidays. Admittedly, she'd probably phrased it badly by asking them to do schoolwork with her, but once they saw what she was actually working on and how the bracelet could block a spell, they were a bit more interested, seeing it as a bit like duelling practice. There had, unfortunately, been a casualty beyond the injuries sustained during the tests: Ron's relationship with Lavender.

Hermione had gotten the feeling that Ron was less enamoured with his girlfriend lately, choosing to spend more time with her and Harry, turning Lavender down for their formerly-frequent public kissing displays, and looking more and more uncomfortable every time his girlfriend called him 'Won-won'. But Hermione obviously wasn't going to raise the subject with Ron, even if she couldn't understand why he didn't just break up with her. It wasn't at all fair on Lavender, considering that she still seemed very keen on the relationship, but Hermione felt that Ron deserved loyalty from her after the months when she had tried to keep their friendship at arm's length.

A couple of days ago, Lavender had unexpectedly stormed into the classroom they'd been practising in, finding only Hermione and Ron present after Harry had decided to try and spy on Malfoy in the Room of Requirement for a bit. The scene that followed had not been pretty. Hermione had tried to leave, but Lavender was blocking the only exit, screeching at Ron about being unfaithful - even though both Ron and Hermione truthfully insisted that it wasn't true.

"Well, why are you two always together?" Lavender demanded hotly.

"We're not always -" Hermione began but Ron cut her off.

"Because we're best friends."

"I thought Harry was your best friend," Lavender spat.

"He is," Ron replied, his tone and shrug suggesting that he was far more comfortable than Hermione at present. "The three of us are best friends - you know that. We've been together since First Year."

"Well, I don't believe that it's all so innocent between you two," Lavender said, crossing her arms over her chest and sticking up her nose. "I don't want you alone with her. It's me - or her," Lavender declared, shooting Hermione a filthy look.

"Hermione." Ron said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Her heart filled with affection for her best friend but she knew had to keep any trace of it from showing at that moment.

Lavender flinched. "What?"

"I choose Hermione," he repeated with another casual shrug.

There was a horrible stretched out moment of stillness and then Lavender whirled around and exited the room with a sob.

Even though Hermione knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she still felt guilty. "You could've at least made it look like it was a difficult decision," she chided Ron gently.

He gave her a funny look. "Didn't you want me to pick you?"

She smiled. "Of course I did. I just feel bad for her - you've been seeing each other for a long time and that seemed like a rather brutal way to end it."

"Maybe - but I've been dropping hints that I wanted her to break things off and she wasn't picking any of it up," Ron pointed out. "This finally worked."

Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes. "You could've just broken up with her yourself, you know. Now she's probably going to be just as angry at me as she is with you - and I'm the one who shares a dormitory with her!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're working on this protection spell for your project," he said. "Looks like you're going to need it."

She snorted lightly. "Yeah, thanks for that." He chuckled in response to her smile, but then she held out a hand to his arm and altered her tone. "Seriously, though - thanks."

He nodded, his ears going slightly pink. "Anytime."

She broke the eye contact and took a few paces back. "You okay to carry on?"

"Sure."

Lavender might have sent plenty of glares Hermione's way since but luckily she had yet to attempt any curses - and Hermione would now know if she had because of what happened to the bracelets when the charm had done its work.

Because of the break from lessons, she was wearing her own clothes - jeans and a large geometric print t-shirt that left much of her arms bare for Antonin's touch. She held up her wrist to bring the bangle back into sight. "You were right about them only being capable of absorbing one spell. The bracelets always crack when it's over, usually just a small fracture. But they won't hold the protection charm again, even when I repair them." This seemed to suitably distract Antonin from his annoyance that she'd been aided by Harry and Ron because he reached out for her hand to draw it closer. "I, um," her breath stuttered at the potency of his touch on just a small part of her skin. "I've had to make dozens of bracelets just to get through the testing process."

"They were transfigurations?" he asked, the fingers of one hand tracing around her wrist, the others stroking up her arm.

She nodded, taking a moment to gather her words when his touch was so diverting. "This was what I thought you might be able to refine. I tried wearing more than one charmed item at a time but it threw off the accuracy of the spell and therefore neither of them worked successfully. I had no idea how many tests I'd need to do so I just used blades of grass because they were easy to get hold of. Do you think if I transfigured the bracelets from something else, something already stronger in structure or something that pairs well with magic, it might be able to be re-used if the charm is reapplied?"

"Perhaps," he murmured after taking a long moment to consider it. "Though I'd like to think you won't have a need to seek protection over and over again."

"But it might be useful in a longer altercation," she said. "If there was a lull in the spellcasting, a second for someone to recast the charm to give them that additional protection again."

"Someone?" he repeated, his previously thoughtful gaze narrowing and his grip tightening. "This spell is only for you, milaya. You've not made these for anyone but yourself, have you?"

She briefly considered lying to him but Antonin seemed to be able to tell when she did so. "Only Harry, Ron and Ginny. They're my friends - of course I'm going to help protect them if I can," she added as he walked away from her, looking angry.

"I didn't work so fucking hard on that spell for you to use it to help Potter!" he snarled.

"I'm not sorry," she said defiantly. "I love my friends and that's never going to change. You might have succeeded in making me cautious about some of the adults in the Order, but you're not going to be able to turn me against my friends. Ever."

"Your unconditional devotion is admirable," he said, but it sounded rather sarcastic to Hermione's ears. "But do you actually think that it's reciprocated?"

"I know it is," she said firmly. Harry and Ron had never given up on her when she'd tried to push them away earlier this year. Ron had chosen her over Lavender without a moment's consideration. Harry had flown after her last summer when she'd tried to make her own way to Azkaban. The whole reason her life was at risk from the Order was because Harry cared so much about what happened to her.

"Oh, really?" Antonin said, still contemptuous as he closed in on her. He threw her notes carelessly onto the desk and then slotted his hand back into its familiar position cupped against her cheek, the other gripping her hip. She swallowed with nerves and anticipation, her hands braced against his chest as he dominated her view. "Do they know?"

"Know what?" she asked in confusion, heart hammering in her chest.

"About this," he said, the hand at her hip rising to stroke teasingly down her arm, his other hand pushing gently into the tension at the base of her neck. Hermione fought not to close her eyes and savour the gloriousness of the sensations. "About how good my touch makes you feel." Hermione pressed her lips together. "Do they?" he asked more insistently but she refused to answer. "Of course not," he scoffed and Hermione couldn't deny it. Antonin brought his face closer to hers but she couldn't bring herself to push him away. "And if they don't know about that," he said, voice low, his mouth only a few inches from her own, "then they definitely don't know about this, do they, milaya?" His kiss was slow, almost torturous in its pace as his mouth seemed to come to a halt against hers. She let out a desperate whine and tried to coax him into returning the pressure and movements that she was powerless to stop from herself.

He pulled his lips away. "No," she gasped, frustrated, eyes flying open. Her fingers bunched into his robes to try and keep him close.

"No," he echoed, his gaze fixed on hers. "Because what would they think of you then, hmmm? Their clever, innocent, good girl, Gryffindor prefect…"

Pain stabbed in her chest. Even though his voice had trailed away, she could still hear the unspoken words. Their clever, innocent, good girl, Gryffindor prefect… kissing a Death Eater, wanting a convicted murderer to touch her all over, willingly leading herself down a path of increasing intimacy that would likely lead to her sleeping with him.

No, of course none of her friends knew about that. She instinctively closed her eyes to ward off the distressing possibility, but that only allowed a brutally clear mental image of her friends' horrified and disgusted expressions to appear in her mind's view. What would they do if they found out? Hermione felt physically sick at the prospect because, even though it broke her heart to admit it, she couldn't say with certainty that they would stand by her. And that was no slight against the strength of their loyalty and friendship for her - not after everything they'd been through together over the years - but because there were some betrayals that couldn't be tolerated. And it was a betrayal, she knew that. However much she had come to see beneath the surface with Antonin, he still represented everything that they were fighting against. She wasn't sure she would possibly be able to explain even if they gave her an opportunity to do so.

Antonin's touch was suddenly at her cheek, and she soaked up the pleasure of it even though she was irritated with him. Her annoyance only grew when she opened her eyes and saw the self-satisfied expression on his face that her friendships were not as solid as she claimed. "You see, milaya? It's as I've been telling you - there's only you and me."

She forced his hand away and took a couple of steps back to free herself more effectively from the pull he had on her. "It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "Even if they find out - and there's no reason why they should - if they don't want anything to do with me, I'm not going to stop caring about them or looking out for them. Nothing will change that."

His expression became somewhat sneering as he rolled his eyes but he refrained from making a comment. Perhaps he'd never experienced the sort of friendship that she shared with Harry and Ron, and that was why he found it so hard to believe her. She almost felt pity for him if that was the case. There was nothing more important to her than her best friends. He claimed that he knew her, and there was much that he certainly could discern about her, but he underestimated her love for her friends. He should've known that she'd make protection charms for them too.

"The more of those charms you give out, the more likely it is that your potential attackers will become aware of them and you'll lose the element of surprise," Antonin said through slightly gritted teeth. "All my efforts would have been wasted and you'll be more vulnerable than ever, falsely believing that you have secret protection." He closed the gap between them and Hermione couldn't find the will to back away again. His fingertips ran down the exposed skin of her lower arm until they stopped beside the bracelet. "Why do you make it so difficult for me to keep you safe, zhar-ptitsa?" he asked in a softer tone, lifting the bracelet up for inspection once more.

Hermione's heart stuttered a little at his words before mentally chastising her body's reaction. Antonin didn't really care for her, she knew that - he only cared about getting to enjoy the effect his touch had on her. He was still loyal to Voldemort's cause and he therefore didn't care about her happiness, ambitions and freedoms because she would certainly lose all of that and more if Antonin's side won the war. But sometimes…with the way he looked at her, how he held and caressed her like she was something precious, the things he said, it was almost enough to trick her into thinking that he wasn't purely acting for his own selfish reasons. Almost.

"I'm not trying to make it more difficult," she protested.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Could've fooled me," he said, but there was no heat behind his words.

She was still burning for his touch but she wanted to discuss the spell further with him, so she took a sidestep without breaking his hold on her arm and picked up her notes again. "Is there some way you can think of for the charmed object to be reused after it's been repaired? You said there might be a better base object to transfigure from."

Antonin shrugged, tugging the parchment out of her grasp and dropping it back on the desk. "I can work on that after you've left," he said and then pulled her closer, hands sliding into her hair and around her waist. She barely had time to suck in a gasp before he was kissing her. The torturous slowness he'd displayed before was replaced with a needy enthusiasm that left her completely unable to think of anything other than how wonderful he made her feel: lips moving eagerly against her own, his teasing tongue sending sparks right down to her scrunched up toes, the fingers he'd slipped under the hem of her t-shirt stroking across her back and squeezing gently at the curve of her waist. When she pulled her mouth away to breathe, he kissed along her jaw and down her neck whilst murmuring expletives and praises into the sensitive skin that had her shifting her thighs restlessly against each other as desire pooled in her core. The stiffness of the denim created more friction than she usually got from her tights and she couldn't hold back little whines at the incredible sensation. The lustful thought of grabbing his hand and guiding it between her legs suddenly entered her mind, shocking her out of her haze. Yes, the thought excited her, but it scared her more and she found herself breaking free of his hold. She could feel his eyes on her but she avoided his gaze and turned away from him, her shaky fingers coming to rest on the desk.

"Everything alright, milaya?" he asked. She felt the warmth of his closeness and then there was a hand at her waist and another running up the back of her arm.

Her attempt to hum in confirmation never made it past her throat so she gave a little cough and said, "Yes." The hand at her waist curved round to splay over her abdomen and his thumb and index finger landed directly over her scar with just the cotton of her t-shirt in between. Again, thrilled and nervous, she sought a delaying tactic. "I just…Um, the Easter holidays will nearly be over by my next visit - I won't have much time to test any spell modifications you come up with because of schoolwork and my revision schedule. Can we not work on it now? Together?"

She half turned so that she could see him over her shoulder. His mouth was tight as he chewed over her suggestion - no doubt he had hoped to spend much more of their session engaging in mutual pleasure.

"Never enough fucking time," he muttered as he removed his hold and bypassed her to snatch up her notes. "But we'll see…" He brandished the parchment at her. "If we make a stronger version of the charm, promise me you'll keep it just for yourself this time."

Hermione's brow raised in surprise. Promises? Who was he to ask her to keep a promise? That level of trust wasn't a part of this…thing between them.

But she was supposed to be developing trust with him, wasn't she? Even if she did promise him, she wouldn't have many misgivings about breaking it so that she could try and keep her friends safe.

Antonin moved a hand to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, his fingers pressing with a slight firmness into her skin and his expression serious. "I mean it. You must not create additional charms to give to your friends. Promise me."

"I promise." She said the words before even thinking about it any further.

He scrutinised her face for a few seconds, perhaps looking for an indication of any deception, and then sighed. "Alright. If we work quickly, there might be time before you leave to pick up where we left off."

Hermione said nothing as images of his hands flush against her scar and fingers stroking over the seam between her legs burst into her mind, and she shakily pulled out a chair to sit next to him. Oh Merlin, how on earth was she supposed to concentrate?

A/N I know many of you like the Snape scenes. I always find it interesting to write his involvement because of his unique perspective so I hope you enjoyed that bit. I had someone ages ago ask why Antonin was still in Azkaban, why the Order didn't just move him so that it wasn't such a risk, and I think it's sometimes easy to forget that there are rules and procedures that need to be followed in a lawful society - Dumbledore can't just do whatever he wants! The mistrust between him and the Ministry - and the delicate state of the war - certainly doesn't help things in terms of cooperation.

It was also nice to get that little Ron scene in. On surface level, I like Ron's character because he often has the best lines in the book. But whenever I dig a little deeper, he definitely frustrates me, particularly in the way he treats Hermione (and Lavender in this book). I haven't tried to fix him here but he is capable of sweet moments of friendship and loyalty.

And then there's Antonin being Antonin, of course.

Hope you're all well.