A/N Happy New Year! Just a little reminder that Voldemort said that he was going to modify Hermione's memory...


Antonin was even more restless in the lead up to Hermione's next visit than he normally was. Before now, his mind would entice him with scenarios and fantasies about what might happen when she arrived. He'd enjoyed the thrill of the unknown and had happily let his mind wander as he plotted to make his will into a reality. But however confident he'd been that Hermione would eventually succumb, there'd still always been doubt about him actually being successful during that visit.

That was no longer the case.

Hermione had given herself to him, admitted she was his with both her body and words, and he was fully expectant that this visit would be a repeat of that night. Her usual pattern of retreating after they'd crossed over a significant barrier hadn't presented itself lately, and he'd seen no hints of regret or panic, no sign of her becoming withdrawn as their time had wound down last week.

He was going to get to fuck Hermione again in a few hours and he didn't know what to do with himself.

No book could hold his attention, no new spell creation leapt into his mind for him to ponder over, his anticipation made him too restless for sleep, and he refused to indulge in his fantasies of what the night would bring because he wanted to save himself - his passion, his hunger, his seed - for her. He had been forced to step under the shower a couple of times to cool his ardour. The icy water did its trick physically but he was assailed with memories of his zhar-ptitsa's squawks of protest at the temperature as she'd cleaned herself after he'd fucked her the second time. Her teeth chattering, she'd vowed to bring some portable flames with her this week so she could heat the water to a less tortuous temperature.

Antonin had made his own request of her - more sweets. He had managed to eat his way through a packet of some rhubarb and custard flavoured ones she'd brought from Honeydukes alongside some other snacks she'd swiped from the Great Hall. His finger had reflexively dug into the packet for sweet after sweet when they'd wound down after sex by reading and working until, before he knew it, they were all gone. Hermione had admonished him, peeved because the packet normally lasted her weeks, and she'd correctly predicted that he'd get a headache from the excess of sugar his body was so unused to but it hadn't stopped him wanting more - he'd always had a sweet tooth. Hermione had told him not to get his hopes up because there wasn't another Hogsmeade trip planned for a while and she had point-blank refused to go to the kitchens to request some of the small chocolate and hazelnut tarts he recalled the school serving. Her reason was something to do with house elves. She'd talked to Antonin about the creatures and their unfair treatment for a good ten minutes without needing any sort of input from him to sustain her, which was good because he was mostly fantasising about her lips wrapping around his cock.

She had been far more insistent on having his full attention when she pushed the book about muggle science towards him again. Upon seeing his disinclination to read it, she'd rolled her eyes.

"You're being ridiculous," she told him frankly. "You enjoy seeking out new knowledge almost as much as I do. What's written in here will deepen your understanding of the world around you and begin to explain the very fundamentals of life. I honestly think the knowledge you can gain from here will help with your spell creations, open your mind up to new possibilities that you didn't know existed."

He scoffed at that. "I'm not going to be inspired by muggles," he insisted.

"I think you're scared," she said simply.

He let out a short laugh. He was in a good mood after what they'd shared over the last few hours but irritation was starting to creep up his spine. "Scared?" he repeated scornfully. "Of a book?"

"Of the implications," she corrected, not at all bothered by his attitude. "You've been taught that muggles are stupid, primitive beings. A thousand years ago that might have looked comparatively true because they didn't have magic to come to their aid and solve their problems like witches and wizards did. But in the last few hundred years they have worked and striven for advancements, to find the solutions magic-users didn't need - though magical society has been happy to latch on and use them when it suits like with trains, photographs and the wireless. In nearly every respect, muggle understanding of the world far surpasses those of magical communities. You're scared to read that book and find out that I'm correct and what you've been told your whole life is wrong."

Antonin angrily jabbed a finger into the cover of the book. "It doesn't matter what they've done and discovered - they don't have magic and therefore they're lesser."

He wondered if he'd gone too far but she gave a dainty little shrug. "Well, if that's what you think then there's no harm in reading it, is there? It's only knowledge - it can't hurt you, Antonin. Besides, it's not like you've got much else to do." She pointed towards the piles of his own books. "You've read all those before. You might as well try something new for a change."

Antonin knew full well that she was attempting to manipulate him, that she thought he would read the science book simply to avoid her accusation of cowardice. Unfortunately, part of that was working because he was definitely irked that she had pronounced him to be scared and he wouldn't allow that to stick - but he was going to ensure that he got something out of the situation for himself.

"I'll read it," he said grudgingly, "if you read a book of my choosing, milaya."

For the first time, her expression faltered and she uneasily glanced again at his books. She sighed. "My exams are only a few weeks away. I don't want to mess up my revision timetable."

"It's only one book and I'll make sure I don't pick one as big as the one you've chosen for me," he replied smoothly.

She still hesitated. "Nothing too dark."

He looked back at her, all innocence. "Why not? You said that knowledge can't hurt you."

Her look was sharp. "We both know it's not the same when it comes to many of the books you like to read."

He merely smirked and went to look through his collection. She'd read nearly all of his books on spell creation by now. Most of what was left were books that contained various dark curses, spells and other types of magic that he had used as inspiration in the past. Eventually he decided on one that was a little darker than those he'd previously given her, but it should only unsettle her slightly rather than outright disgust or horrify.

Over the last few days, Antonin had diligently read the science book - not all of it, he didn't want to appear too keen - but enough to probably satisfy her if she decided to question him about it. Its contents were…interesting. The word 'science' was deceptive in his opinion because it gave the impression that it was one area of study, but he soon discovered that it could be broken down into many subtopics, each of which spanned a wide range of matters. Although there were many theories and hypotheses within the book, the vast majority were then proved with experiments, evidence or inventions that made it very difficult for him to argue (to himself) that the muggles were wrong. As Hermione had said, a lot of the developments were the muggles seeking to solve problems magic users didn't have, but they were also exploring questions that Antonin had never really thought about before: How did humans come into existence? What precisely were physical objects - living or not - made from? How were illnesses and diseases caused?

His fundamental belief that muggles existed beneath magic-users wasn't at all troubled or questioned by what he read though. Some muggles might not be as ignorant or backwards as he'd assumed, but that didn't make them in any way his equal. Magic should rule over those without. For too long they had hidden themselves away. It was time to take their rightful place at the top. Natural selection, survival of the fittest, should play out as the muggles suggested.

He'd wait until after sex to say so to Hermione though. He wasn't an idiot. And she was delusional if she thought she could change his beliefs with one bloody book.

As the hour of her visit approached, he resorted to restlessly pacing up and down his cell, growing more and more frustrated when she didn't walk through the door. He had no proper way to gauge the time, resorting to judging the amount of light coming through the window (which was presently very little) but surely she was later than she'd normally arrive on a school night?

When his cell door finally opened, he was shocked to see her helped into the room by some blond, scarred auror.

Her desperate gaze locked onto him immediately and she stumbled in her eagerness to get to him. She surely would have fallen had the auror not been holding onto her arm.

"What happened?" Antonin asked the auror sharply even though he could clearly see that the curse was affecting her severely. Her skin was incredibly flushed and there were beads of sweat on her forehead.

The auror bristled at being spoken to in such a manner by a prisoner, and he glared as Antonin walked over to them. "She just turned up like this," he replied shortly.

Antonin took Hermione from him, being careful not to put his skin against hers quite yet whilst the auror was still there in case her reaction was too indicative of the recent progression in their relationship. He could feel her struggling in his hold, trying to get the relief she desperately needed, but he held her firmly and ignored her whimpers until the auror had turned away with a sneer and shut the door.

Antonin lifted his hands to her burning cheeks. She shuddered beneath his touch, letting out a desperate whimper, but her legs started to give way without his support. He dropped one hand to curve around her waist, and stared at her in concern and confusion. "How did you let the curse get this bad, milaya?"

She made no reply. In fact, it looked like she wasn't even aware that he'd spoken. One of her hands was trying to latch around his neck while the other scrabbled at his robes to try and find a way to access more skin. He recalled the last time the curse had been pushed so close to the limit - the night he'd first seen her scar - and how she had been insentient for a while to anything other than her drive to find and receive relief, how her true self had been hidden beneath the curse's pull. There was little point in talking to her until the severity of her reaction had begun to ebb. Instead, he moved his arms, prompting a small cry of anguish from her, but he quickly picked her up and carried her over to the bed. She didn't make the journey easy for him because her attempts to find more of his skin had her wriggling and writhing so much that she almost fell from his hold, and yet he almost had to wrestle her to make her relinquish the grip she had on him so he could place her on the mattress and take off his robe. Hermione's hands chased the material as it rose up his torso and she pressed her cheek firmly against his bare chest as though she could sink right through his flesh. He let her cling to him as he worked at removing some of her clothes too. Even though heat was absolutely rolling off her, his progress was slow because she was uncooperative whenever he had to manipulate a sleeve down her arm - which unfortunately happened frequently given he had to remove her cloak, robe and school shirt before he got to her heated skin. It would've been quicker to try and rip the clothes off her but there was no way they could repair them before Hermione would encounter one of the aurors, and that would surely lead to unwanted questions.

He hesitated when he got to her bra but decided to leave it on. There'd be time for that later, and he didn't know how she'd react to being stripped completely naked when she gained a bit more sense and awareness. Better to show a little restraint and decorum even if he was no longer a stranger to the most intimate parts of her body.

It was much easier to remove his trousers and her skirt, but he paused when he caught sight of her scar. The lines were so much more vivid than he'd ever seen before, almost blood-red in their intensity. Was that what happened to the scar when the curse was close to burning her up? He didn't recall the marks being so bright the first time he'd seen her scar but he'd soothed some of the worst of the curse away by then. Maybe this had been hidden away under her shirt earlier that night.

Entranced by its beauty, he moved his fingers towards it. As usual, he could feel the hum of the magic against his fingertips before he even made contact with her skin. But it felt different. Turbulent and unsettled. Hermione flinched beneath him with a distressed sound, which grew into a cry as he gently stroked the scar. He knew she was likely to be extra sensitive there but he was surprised when she forcefully pushed his hand away. One arm remained gripped around his waist but she curled her body inwards, like she was trying to protect herself and prevent him from accessing her scar again. There was a hitch in her breathing and he lifted his gaze from her chest to see tears in her eyes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, milaya," he said, running a soft hand over her cheeks and kissing her forehead. "I didn't realise that would be painful."

He held her closely as he joined her on the bed, keeping her back against his chest so that his skin wouldn't touch her scar. One of his hands stroked over her arm and side, and gently encouraged her to relax her defensive position and straighten out her legs so that she could slot hers between his to get even more relief. Her little arse pushed into his crotch. He was already semi-hard and he knew it wouldn't be long until that was no longer the case but with all the time they had together, he was happy to let his desire for her just simmer for now. He pressed kisses into her neck and cheek and she reached one hand behind her to hold his head close.

As he waited for her to return to herself, his mind pondered over what had triggered such an extreme reaction from the curse. The most likely explanation that he could think of was that the curse was trying to claim another day from her cycle, that waiting until the evening of the eighth day was now too much for her to endure - though he was still surprised that she'd let herself deteriorate so far before coming to see him. Last time she'd sensed a shift in the cycle, she had skipped lessons to come and see him so why the delay tonight? He would have to ask her.

It hadn't been very long since she'd had to cut down from nine days to eight. He didn't know the dates exactly but he was sure that it was a significantly shorter length of time than when she'd gone from ten days to nine. Was the deterioration of the curse speeding up? Quite possibly.

Or had the change been triggered by something else? Could it be that the intimacy they'd experienced during sex last week had impacted the curse's need for his touch? With all the research he'd done on the spell, nothing had indicated that might be the case but he'd been trying to reverse the curse damage - not increase it…

Was there another possible explanation for her current state? He knew that the curse had once been triggered by her using one of his dark spells. Yes, he'd been drip-feeding her knowledge of dark magic, but she was so vocally opposed to using it that he thought it unlikely that she'd use a curse. Yet she'd done so once, hadn't she? And if she'd been attacked or provoked? His stomach clenched in fear and anger at the possibility but he reassured himself that - aside from the effects of the curse - he'd seen as he'd undressed her that she was completely fine. He could feel the bracelet where her hand was curled around the back of his neck and that gave him additional relief, but he still reached up and traced his fingers over the metal. His breath caught in his throat and his fingers stilled. Was that a crack?

His heart was beating strangely fast as he pulled her hand around so that he could see it better. He had to rotate the bracelet slightly to bring the part that he'd felt into his line of sight but, yes, it was definitely cracked. He glared at the marking and the threat its presence posed to his zhar-ptitsa. Who the fuck had tried to harm her? Had the Order attempted to make their move? Had she fled here to escape them? Would they follow her here, throw open the door to his cell and end them both? The possibility - admittedly rather extreme - unnerved him and he stared at the door intently as he rapidly thought about what options he had to protect them both should that happen. But the truth was that apart from trying to take any Order killers by surprise and physically attacking them, there was little he could do.

"Moya mechta," he murmured, stroking his hand over her cheek. He needed to get the truth from her, he needed to know what had happened to crack the bracelet and what had caused such a severe reaction from the curse. But her eyes were closed, her face content and peaceful. "Hermione," he said more firmly. "Look at me."

Her eyelids seemed to unwillingly obey him as they dragged slowly upwards but there was still no awareness in her gaze as she looked at him. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Forget it," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "It's OK."

He hated feeling powerless. Yes, his touch had provided him so much influence over Hermione in recent months, but beyond this cell he had no control. When would he be free from this fucking prison? Surely his Lord would strike soon and allow his faithful to return? But thoughts of that moment worried him because he didn't know how he was going to ensure that he brought his zhar-ptitsa safely to his side. They would need to come up with a plan today - a destination she could escape to when the Order inevitably turned on her. He knew that she would struggle with the idea, even if she no longer trusted those two-faced bastards who claimed to care about her. But if he promised he wouldn't lead her to the Dark Lord, would she trust him enough to meet him? She wouldn't really have a choice if she wanted to live but just how strong was her sense of self-preservation? He got the impression that she didn't want to die because why else would she agree to wear his bracelets? Why else had she confronted that Order bastard about the lies that he'd told? Was her wish to continue living strong enough to allow her to believe in Antonin; to put her life in his hands and trust that he wouldn't lead her to harm? Because he didn't, he absolutely didn't want anything to happen to her. She was his. Fully his in a way nothing else in his life ever had been before. His hold over her was complete and he was never going to let her go. Others might try to take her but Antonin would curse them a thousand times over for even trying to lay a finger or a wand on her, let alone to truly stand in his way.

But what if that was the will of the Dark Lord?

Antonin's hold on Hermione unconsciously tightened even as his mind pushed back at the idea. Surely his Lord would see the advantages of keeping the girl alive to act as bait whilst Potter remained a threat? Once the boy was dealt with, Hermione would be of no consequence to anyone and Antonin could keep her all to himself, hidden out of harm's way from all threats. Antonin just had to limit the danger she faced before Potter was killed. Most prisoners of the Dark Lord experienced torture and suffering at the hands of bored Death Eaters, and there would be many of his comrades who would enjoy seeing such a close friend of Potter suffer, especially those who had been imprisoned alongside him last summer. Maybe the Dark Lord himself would want to make a spectacle of her capture. Fury and horror raged within him as his mind presented him with images of Hermione being cursed, her body writhing and screaming as bruises, burns and blood blossomed over her skin, her eyes pleading with him to make it stop, to save her as she was mercilessly humiliated and violated for the collective pleasure of the men and women watching. His firebird. His dream. His Hermione.

And if Antonin didn't want to face the same fate he would have to let it happen.

No one denied the Dark Lord what he willed.

But Antonin wanted to with all his being. He had never dared to think about defying his Lord before but Hermione was his. He couldn't bear to let them mark, degrade or revel in her suffering. It grated against every part of him, threatening to tear him to pieces and ignite him into a vengeful fury. But how could he stop it? Right now it was only a possibility, of course, but as soon as Antonin brought her to the Dark Lord the chances were dangerously high. Even if his Lord agreed to keep Hermione in Antonin's care in reward for her capture, it was no guarantee that his master's mind wouldn't change. The Dark Lord was difficult to predict, sometimes acting on a whim or lashing out in a moment of fury or victory.

No, the best way to ensure his zhar-ptitsa was kept from the dangers that were ever-present in the Dark Lord's ranks was… to not bring her to him at all.

He tensed as the thought crossed his mind, as though just thinking about circumventing his Lord's wishes would be enough to condemn him to a Cruciatus curse from somewhere across the sea. But after a few heartstopping seconds passed without incident, he focused on the possibility again. Could he keep Hermione completely away from the Dark Lord's knowledge if he managed to hide and secure her away somewhere? No one from his master's forces could be aware of her dependency on Antonin otherwise they would have acted to take advantage of that fact by now. News would eventually reach the Dark Lord of the disappearance of one of Potter's friends but that shouldn't point the finger of suspicion at Antonin if knowledge of the curse was kept quiet. And what of the Order themselves? Would they blame him if she ran away? They couldn't possibly think that Hermione had given herself over to Antonin as fully as she had - yet they might think that she would flee to save her life if he were freed from Azkaban. But if the Dark Lord didn't start parading the fact that they'd captured Hermione, would the Order believe her to be dead when the curse had run through a full cycle?

Was he crazy or could that actually work? If they were careful, agreeing to meet somewhere only the two of them knew about, travelling to a magically secure location with the tightest of wards… Antonin would have to be perfect in his mental defences in front of the Dark Lord. He had never attempted the smallest deception to him before but he hadn't had a strong enough reason to try like he did now, never had something that wanted only for himself until now. He'd never thought it possible that something else might pull at his allegiance. He shifted the arm that was curled under her body, raising it so that he could see the Dark Mark that dominated his forearm. Maybe if it wasn't for that and the bind it placed on him…

He shook his head. No, it was utterly pointless thinking about it. He had no escape from the Dark Lord.

He needed to focus his thoughts on circumstances that were actually possible. He had one plan but there would need to be back ups in case events didn't play out as he hoped. And he still needed to find a way to convince Hermione to find him when he escaped. Without her trust and belief in him, nothing else that he planned would follow. At least now he would be sincere when he told her he didn't want to give her to the Dark Lord.

At length, she stirred in his arms and he reluctantly loosened his hold.

She gave a little gasp and sat up, looking around her with wide eyes.

"You don't remember arriving here?" he said, also sitting up.

She furrowed her brow. "No. I remember disapparating to come here but after that it's a haze. The curse must have taken over." She sighed and he pulled her back against his chest. "It was getting stronger all day but I thought I could last it out until I got here."

"Do you think the curse is claiming another day?" With everything else that was running through his head, it was little comfort to hear that the curse hadn't been triggered by some violent attack. Even if she wasn't on the run from the Order, the bracelet was still cracked.

"Perhaps," she said. "I'll have to be more vigilant in the lead up to my next visit. The last time I lost a day it became clear not long after breakfast that I needed to see you. I'd rather not miss any more lessons so close to my end of year exams."

He smiled a little at her unnecessary dedication - his witch could probably pass all her tests tomorrow if required - with Os to boot, he was sure.

"How does the curse feel?" he asked, stroking down her side and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. He wanted to talk to her about the bracelet and about how he planned to save her but he didn't want her to be distracted by the curse during what might end up being one of the most important conversations they would ever have.

"It's still strong," she said. "How long have I been here?"

"Well over an hour, I suspect. Probably almost two."

"That long already?" she asked in surprise, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The curse must have really taken hold of me this time. I don't know why." She leaned back against him with a small moan. "Every muscle in my whole body is aching so badly."

He frowned. "Are you sick or is that an effect of the curse?"

"I don't know. I don't remember being achy earlier so maybe I'm getting sick." He couldn't recall her ever being ill in the months she'd been visiting but if she was unwell then maybe it was having an impact on the pull of the curse, making her body weaker to fight it off. She made a half-hearted effort to move. "Maybe you shouldn't be so close to me."

"I'll risk it," he said and she settled against him without any resistance. "You can sleep if you need to, milaya, it's alright."

She made a humming noise. "Maybe. You can touch my scar if you want. You must be bored, you haven't even got a book."

"Are you sure you want me to touch your scar? When I briefly grazed a finger there earlier, you pushed me away like it hurt you."

"Oh. I don't remember that. It's never hurt me before, I'm sure it'll be fine now."

He craned his neck forward so he could catch sight of her scar. It wasn't as vividly red as it was before, but the colour was still heightened. Cautiously, he made the gentlest contact with a small branch of her scar and then pulled away when she flinched. "Is it still painful?"

She took a moment to respond. "It was intense, like always, but it strayed more towards uncomfortable than pleasant. It felt raw somehow."

"I think you just need more time to recover," he said. "We've still got a long time before you have to leave. There's no need to rush. I told you that you can rest, and if you're worried about me…" She let out a noise of surprise as he rose from the bed, leaving her without his touch as he picked up a book from his desk. "…I'll keep this nearby to occupy me if you fall asleep."

Fuck, she looked beautiful perched on his bed in her underwear, her body still flushed and her scar on show. His eyes raked over her, letting himself recall the feel of her breasts under his fingers, the taste of her slick on his tongue, the sensation of her cunt clutching his cock. He was going to risk it all for her, if she let him. And he'd still try even if she didn't.

Hermione's cheeks grew redder and she glanced away as he continued to stare. Maybe she'd seen the large bulge in his underwear. It amused him that she was still so shy after what they'd done the last time she was here. "That's not the science book," she said to his pillow.

"It's not," he agreed amiably as he returned to her. "The science book is far too big to be comfortably read in bed."

He got back into position but she rotated her hips so that she was face to face with him instead. "Have you even read any of it?"

"Yes. Have you read any of yours?"

She nodded. "Yes, I finished it at the weekend but -"

"Milaya," he interrupted with an accompanying stroke across her shoulder, "I will talk about what we've read later. You need more relief and we both know you can't hold the sort of in-depth conversation that you'll want when the curse is still so strong."

She pouted like a child and he kissed her protruding bottom lip. She kissed him back for a couple of seconds then pulled away. "You shouldn't kiss me - I might be ill."

"From what I've been reading about germs and bacteria lately, I think it's too late for that," he said. "If you're contagious, you've probably passed it on to me already."

She smiled widely at his use of the scientific terminology and snuggled up close to him. He rolled his eyes and lifted his chin so she could tuck her head into his neck. She was so easy to please sometimes.

He soon felt her breaths even out and he quietly closed the book he hadn't bothered to read a word of. Instead he mentally rehearsed what he was going to say to her later in his appeals for her trust. How was he to be persuasive whilst still being believable? There was no point pretending to be some righteous, heroic saviour because they both knew that wasn't who he was.

Hermione trembled in his arms. For a moment he thought it was just a passing shiver, but her muscles continued to quiver, her entire body shaking. He stared at her in alarm. Was she having some sort of fit because of the curse? Was this further evidence of illness? "Hermione?" He ran his hands over her, trying to soothe her trembling. "Hermione?" he repeated more keenly.

She opened her eyes. "Ow," she groaned, voice thick with sleep. "Everything hurts."

Relieved that she wasn't mentally affected by whatever had brought on the muscle spasms, he held her close and continued his soothing actions and whispered reassuringly to her until the shaking stopped. Fuck, that was scary. He deeply wished he knew its cause. If it was the curse, if she was going to face increasingly serious side-effects, then he was going to have to go back to researching it once again to see if there was something he could do to prevent or slow them.

Twice more during the next hour her muscles seized and shook so he just held her until it passed, gritting his teeth against the sound of her pained whimpers even in her sleep. When she woke, she told him that the curse almost felt soothed but her body still ached. He got her to eat some of the food she'd brought with her and drink some tea. The cup trembled in her hand as her arm spasmed and he had to take it off her before she scalded herself.

She let out a dramatic sigh of frustration. "I hate being ill," she muttered, cradling her shaking arm. "I'm going to go straight to the Hospital Wing when I get back. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will have a potion I can take to stop it before I get any worse." She held out her arm in front of her for a few seconds and it remained steady so she took the tea back. She took a sip then winced, momentarily holding her fingers to her throat.

Antonin frowned at the gesture. "Sore throat?"

"Only a little," she said dismissively. "Can we talk about the books now?" she asked after taking another sip, followed by another small wince.

"Later," he replied, holding out another bread roll for her to eat. "If your throat isn't bad."

She rolled her eyes. "Are we just going to sit in silence while you watch me eat? I'd much rather talk about something. It doesn't really hurt while I'm talking."

"If you stay quiet, hopefully that will remain the case. I do want to talk about something with you soon but just indulge me for a little longer while you take in some sustenance first."

"Fine," she sighed, taking the bread from him and tearing off a piece with her teeth. "I brought you some more sweets," she told him after swallowing (and wincing around) her mouthful. "I looked over a friend's transfiguration homework for her in exchange for some exploding bonbons. She did offer a pack of chocolate frogs instead but I thought that sweets that cause small explosions in your mouth might convince you to eat them more slowly this time."

"It's nice to know that you're as concerned about my health as I am about yours, milaya," he replied smoothly. His words had been teasing but they weren't lies. It actually was quite nice to know that there was someone who cared about him in some small way. She was the only one since his parents' murders. His witch. His Hermione.

"Yes, I take dental hygiene very…" To his surprise, the humour visibly drained from her. She stared down at her lap. "…seriously," she murmured. "I've had enough to eat." She made to rise from the bed and he grasped her arm to support her as she got unsteadily to her feet. "I'm fine," she told him, even though he could see she wasn't. "Stop hovering over me like I'm fragile."

"Do you want me to let you fall?" he argued as she stubbornly pulled her arm from his hold.

"I'm not going to fall," she insisted and walked with determined but slightly unstable steps to the desk to put down her half-eaten roll and tea. She gave him a triumphant look but then her right leg spasmed and she had to slam her hands onto the desk to stop herself from collapsing.

Antonin was at her side in a moment and swept her into his arms. "You're so fucking stubborn, zhar-ptitsa." He walked back to the bed. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I'm not - " she protested.

"I'm only trying to take care of you." He set her down on the mattress but before he could straighten she placed her hand behind his neck and held him in place.

"Take care of me then." Her tone was suggestive as she looked meaningfully into his eyes but he could barely believe any of it.

Conflict battled within him. "You're sick." His voice came out a little strained.

"You said you didn't care," she argued, rubbing her other hand up and down his bare chest.

"That's not what I said," he denied. "I told you that I don't mind that you've probably already passed your germs onto me."

She gave a little shrug to show that she thought the difference was negligible. "So what's the problem?" she murmured before pressing her lips against his. "Don't you want to have sex again?" Her teasing tone faltered and he saw insecurity flicker across her face.

How could she possibly have uncertainties about his desire for her? "I've barely been able to think of anything other than fucking you again since the moment you left, moya mechta."

"But -"

"You said your whole body aches. You're in pain." He lifted a soft hand to her cheek. "I don't want to hurt you." His words were entirely honest even though his body craved her in every way.

Her gaze softened and she leaned in to kiss him again. "You're being very considerate today."

"I'm a very attentive and solicitous man," he said dryly, making her bite down on her lip to stop a smile.

"Ow," she muttered, running her tongue over her lip slightly, then she shook her head. "Antonin, I appreciate your concern but my limbs are going to ache whether we have sex or not - but being with you might take my mind off it for a while, make me forget what I'm feeling." Her hand had started roaming over his chest again and his small amount of self-restraint gave up its half-hearted fight. He instigated the next kiss, pulling her hungrily against him then laying her down on the bed.

"I can't believe you thought for even a moment that I didn't fucking want you." He kissed each of her fingers then his gaze caught on her bracelet.

"What is it?" she asked at his pause.

Should he speak up now or wait until later? She'd potentially be more amenable after sex, more pliable to bend to his will, but that cracked bracelet and the potential dangers she faced now and in the future had been the focus of his attention for the past few hours and wouldn't be so easily dismissed. He didn't want to wait any longer. He needed to know what had triggered the protection charm.

He rotated the bracelet until she was able to see the crack and then pulled most of his touch away from her so that she could focus. "How did this happen?"

Her eyes widened and he could immediately tell that she'd had no prior knowledge of it. She brought her wrist closer to her eyes for further inspection. "I don't know."

How could someone have attacked her without her knowledge? "When was the last time you saw it clearly enough to be sure that there was no crack?" he asked.

She frowned, trying to remember. "Last night. I had a bath before bed and I took it off."

"Why would you do that?" he asked, momentarily distracted from his main concern. "Surely you're more vulnerable when bathing than practically any other time."

She looked for a moment like she wanted to argue with him but then her irritation smoothed and she nodded. "I'll leave it on from now onwards."

"Good." He was reassured that she was thinking rationally and he hoped that continued for a while yet. "Can you think of anything that might have happened since your bath that could have caused the crack?"

Her gaze lowered and he could see her mentally going through her movements of the last twenty-four hours until her eyes snapped up to his. "Defence class. We were revising casting non-verbal spells before our exams. I took the bracelet off again so that it wouldn't be accidentally triggered while I was facing opponents. I didn't look closely at it when I put it back on because we had to hurry to get to our next class. Could it still offer me protection without having skin contact, just tucked away in my pocket?"

"It's possible," he replied after considering it for a few seconds. "We know that using actual supplies of metal to create the bracelet rather than transfigurations of other materials makes them very strong. Did you not notice it blocking a spell?"

"I know I successfully shielded myself from all the spells I faced directly from my opponents," she said, "But I suppose there's a chance the bracelet protected me from a rogue spell from somewhere else in the classroom." She sighed. "And there are Slytherins in that class too. I wouldn't put it past one of them to try and hex me behind my back."

Could it be as simple as that? An opportune moment for a sly attack from a house rival or a misdirected spell from a stupid classmate? It would explain why she hadn't noticed because the guilty student was unlikely to speak up about nearly hitting her. It also explained why no further harm had come to her. If someone had meant to seriously attack Hermione, like he was sure the Order was plotting, then they wouldn't have just given up at one spell but sustained their fight until she was brought down or she escaped.

He wanted to believe that this was the answer but he still felt uneasy. "Can you think of anything else that might have triggered it?"

Her expression was thoughtful again until she shook her head. "Not unless anything happened on the way up to your cell when the curse took over, like they had to restrain me or something. I don't have any memory of that."

"The auror didn't say anything about that when he brought you in but he was holding on to you," Antonin replied. "You were desperate to get to me but your legs were weak. Maybe they did try casting something to help you."

Hermione let out a large sigh and gave him a relieved smile. "It must have been either Defence class or here." She reached out and slotted her fingers through his. "No need to be too worried."

He didn't return her smile. "But I am worried," he said, holding onto her hand but resisting the urge to touch more of her, "about what comes next. About what might happen to you. About losing you."

She cast her eyes down. "Antonin," she sighed.

"The Order are going to turn on you, milaya," he told her solemnly. "You know you cannot trust them. The moment the Dark Lord breaks me free - or even before then if they decide it's safer to cut their losses - they will not let you live to be such a weakness to Potter. You're only safe with me."

She pulled her hand away from him and sat up to lean against the headboard, breaking all body contact between them. He couldn't tell if she was upset or angry when she looked at him, but there were definitely strong emotions in her expression. "But I'm not safe with you, am I? I'm not stupid. However much we like to pretend in here, the lines are much deeper beyond these walls. I might need you to keep me alive but you cannot keep me safe if you serve him."

"I can," he insisted, his recent reflections on the matter driving the emotion behind his words.

He hated the exasperation he saw on her face as she shook her head. "How many times have you told me - threatened me - with the fate I would receive at the hands of your master and his followers?" she asked.

"That was before," he responded quickly. "Before things changed, before I saw you for who you are, before I decided to make you mine. I won't let them hurt you, moya mechta."

Again, she shook her head. "You're betrayed by your own words, Antonin. He will want to use me against Harry and you have told me over and over again that you cannot defy his will."

"But he can't have you if he doesn't know I've got you," Antonin said. She looked very surprised by his words and he continued almost feverishly, "When you make your break from the Order, you can meet me somewhere - we can agree where tonight - and then I can hide you. No one will know. You'll be safe."

"Do you really think you can trick me that easily?" she asked, looking almost hurt. "That I'm gullible enough to fall into such an obvious trap?"

"No -"

"You'll hand me straight over to him."

"No -"

"It's been your intention all along."

"Not anymore, I -"

"You're lying!" she cried hoarsely, holding a hand to her throat.

"For fuck's sake, milaya!" he snapped, rising to his feet in frustration. "Will you just listen?"

"Why should I?" she croaked.

"Because I'm trying to save you," he told her desperately.

"So you can throw me at Voldemort's feet," she spat.

His whole body jerked as fear rushed through him. It was already bad enough that he was voicing his willingness to hide an important asset from the Dark Lord, but for her to say his name aloud was inviting his wrath to rain down upon them both. "Don't say his name," he hissed.

"If you're not brave enough to even say it, how could you possibly expect me to believe you'd betray him?" she questioned incredulously.

"It's not a betrayal," he quickly denied, because it almost felt like the Dark Lord could hear every word they were saying. "The Dark Lord can win this war without you, he doesn't need you. I can protect you - I'm the only one who can keep you safe."

She opened her mouth to respond but her body started shivering again. Antonin returned to her side at once, using his touch to try and soothe her spasming muscles.

"I- I don't b-believe you," she stammered as he held her close.

"I understand," he replied, running his hand up and down her back as her trembling started to subside. "I wouldn't believe me either. I don't know how to convince you that I'm being sincere." It had been so, so easy to lie and manipulate her over the past months. Why was it so much harder to convince her when he was being honest? He had to make her trust him otherwise he was surely going to lose her.

"He'd kill you, wouldn't he, for hiding me?" Her voice was slightly muffled against his chest.

Antonin closed his eyes to ward against the possibility but replied, "Almost certainly."

She leant backwards so she could look him in the eyes. "Then why would you risk it?"

He lifted a hand to her cheek. He'd been careful not to touch her too much while they'd been talking so that she couldn't accuse him of trying to influence her, but he couldn't hold back anymore. "Because you're mine, Hermione. They'd want to hurt you, use you and break you - and I'd be powerless to stop them. I won't let that happen. Not to you."

"You'd risk what you've dedicated your whole life towards just to keep me safe?" Scepticism and disbelief were still very much evident on her face as she seemed to gaze into his soul.

"I want you always by my side, moya mechta," he said, attempting to make his gaze open and clear under her scrutiny. "You're a part of me as much as I'm a part of you. The future promised to me isn't one I want if I don't have you with me."


A/N This is NOT the end of this scene - we're going to pick straight back up from this point next time around. The chapter was getting too long (this part alone is somehow 8000 words!).

Some of you have been calling for Antonin to wake the f up to reality for months! Too bad for him that Voldemort already knows about their link through the curse and therefore his plan to hide her from the Dark Lord probably isn't going to work out the way he hopes... But still, MAJOR progress in his developing feelings for her.

It was fun to write this part because the readers know a lot more about what has happened than either of our main characters here. Hope you enjoyed it!