A/N: Hello Again! It's been so long since I have worked on this, or any of my stories here. I've missed them so much. Life interfered as it so often does and this fell through the cracks. Until by chance I was in conversation talking about this fic, and then later came across two chapters I'd previously written but not posted. I have edited them and continued to develop the fic. It is still not finished, but I have enough to begin posting regularly. I plan to post the next five completed chapters once a week and plan to continue writing to keep that schedule going forward. I hope that you all enjoy this continuation and stay along for the journey.
Disclaimer: As always, I do not claim to own any aspects of Harry Potter. If you recognize it then it's not mine. Although the beautiful thing about fanfiction is the ability to take certain liberties and weave the familiar and the new in a story all of its own.
The Sun gleaned off the bright white of the freshly fallen snow. It caused the ice flakes to glisten as they were reflected by the light. The white winter canvased the vast gardens of Malfoy Manor and presented a view she could get as lost in as she was in her thoughts. Feet curled under her Hemione's head rested on her arms balanced on the tops of her raised knees as she took in the serene scenery. The last two weeks of the Yule break passed in a whirlwind of activity and emotions. Now, the break was drawing to a close with only one more day before she had to return to the castle.
A sigh full of dread let out of the brunette witch. Too many conflicting thoughts and emotions were running her ragged. Morally, Hermione loathed the events going on inside the Death Eater headquarters. She had no warmth for her father or many of his followers. Many of her days were spent in quiet study of the dark arts under his supervision. The books she read, intrigued her, something that scared her the most. She still considered herself on the side of the order, as a witch who used lighter magic or defensive spells. She struggled because her heart hurt from being separated from her friends, yet she was glad to not be surrounded by people who would smile to her in sympathy and shoot disgusted looks at her behind her back because of her parentage. They definitely would not understand her feelings being in a near constant state of opposition.
While she despised the fact that she was the daughter of an insane megalomaniac, she feared that he became this way because he fit the image of the perfect villain. But what if the artist of the portrait was only masquerading as heroic and manipulating what the viewers of the painting saw? Hermione couldn't deny her father was the enemy of her best friends, but a few of his followers had treated her with more kindness and trust than she received from her oldest friends and the leaders they followed in the brewing war. Hermione was beginning to question her own allegiances, not that she was ever going to willingly join her father's cause, but because she had lost faith and respect in Dumbledore and other members of the Order of the Phoenix.
After dinner each night for the last two weeks, Hermione spent time in the library with her betrothed. Hermione had come to accept that she was unlikely to escape her father's clutches before her wedding. She was going to be married this June, almost as soon as the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross station and returned the young wizarding children to their parents for the summer. Antonin was a reserved conversationalist. He preferred the more quiet aspects of life, not unlike herself. Much time passed with them sitting side by side reading their individual books. Often Antonin would jot down notes on curled and yellow-edged parchment with rips and tears that he bound together in a dusty, frayed leather cover. It looked like an ancient and cheaper version of the gift she gave him for Christmas. When she inquired why he wasn't using her gift, he explained that he was modifying some old notes and didn't want to mar the pages of his new journal until he had something worth writing in it. When they conversed she found she had a worthy partner for intelligent conversation. Antonin was patient with her, giving her space but always nearby to protect her. Hermione thought that had he not been lured into the seduction of the dark arts he would have been a gentle soul. After explaining to him on Christmas her fears about being in the presence of all of her father's followers he had ensured her safety. He refused to leave her side at dinner and the beginning of the dancing, glared at anybody who leered at her and even drew his wand at someone who commented on her unfortunate upbringing. As the night went on and the darker aspects of the revel began he led her out of the ballroom and back to her room where he warded her inside.
She could certainly have been paired with a far worse man than Antonin Dolohov. He struggled with anger at times, and was quick to become jealous if Hermione's attention lingered too long on another wizard, with the exception of Draco. There was a darkness to him. However, Hermione no longer found these aspects of him frightening for she felt he would never cause her any harm again. She couldn't say that about some of the other wizards who followed her father, therefore she didn't view this marriage as a bad thing, but she had no idea how to break the news to her friends. They would jump off the walls at the prospect of her bonding with a known death eater. It may be the final cut in their estranged friendship when she told them she was alright with it.
The witch sipped tea and contemplated what awaited her at Hogwarts this next term. While he still hadn't specified any details Hermione was quite sure that Draco's mission was to assassinate their headmaster. Her father hated the man and seemed less than surprised when she voiced her suspicions that Dumbledore was somehow involved in her kidnapping. She was caught in the middle of a war that started long before she was born, and she had stakes to lose on both sides.
The antique tea cup clinked against the matching plate as Hermione put the dark thoughts aside. It was New Year's Eve and the night of the grand ball. This one wouldn't be open to death eaters, at least the known ones. Instead, there would be pureblood families, high-ranking ministry officials, and other prominent figures in their society present tonight. Antonin would be unable to attend as he was a recognizable convict who had escaped from the notorious, dementor guarded prison a year prior. Hermione intended to spend the evening around Draco, Theo, Daphne, Pansy, and Blaise since they were the same age and familiar with each other.
Her thoughts were broken by a loud crack echoing off the walls in her room. Lanny had arrived to prepare her. The witch rose from the window seat and trudged over to the bathroom vanity where her personal house elf awaited her. Her hair was a frizzy mess from having allowed it to air dry after her shower that morning. Using her newly returned wand Hermione cast the smoothing charm from her beauty book, before the creature could berate her appearance.
"Lanny, I would like to keep my hair up tonight but not curly and not in a French twist. What do you think would work?" Hermione asked to keep the elf from bemoaning Hermione's lack of accepting her help.
"I could straighten your hair and braid it in two parts before twisting them around your head like a crown," the tea cloth covered elf responded.
"Have at it," Hermione agreed and watched as Lanny set to work. She had to admit that house elves' magic was quicker and more effective at completing tasks like this. Even with the aid of her wand now, it would still take Hermione more time and hair products to accomplish what Lanny could in minutes. Her hair wrapped around the back of her head above the nape of her neck. Hermione waved her wand over it and a small dusting of white daisies weaved throughout the two braids.
"That is a lovely touch," Narcissa said as she breezed through the doorway into Hermione's room. "Lanny, if you don't mind I would like to assist Hermione tonight. This is after all her first ball where she is being presented to individuals of esteem in our society." Without a word, the house elf disapperated and left the two witches alone.
"I was going to use beauty charms," Hermione mentioned when she saw the box of wizarding cosmetics in her pseudo mother's hands.
"Beauty charms are helpful at times but this occasion calls for a different touch," the elder witch replied as she conjured two stools. Hermione peered into the box only to discover a host of products she wouldn't use herself. "We'll start with foundation," Narcissa decided as she set to work.
Hermione had grown up watching her mum use muggle make-up and was amazed by how much the magic in the wizarding version made the application smoother and cleaner. It was as if the products were absorbed into her complexion instead of being placed on top of it. If she were to run her finger over her face it would not only come back smudge free, but it would feel like her own skin.
Metamorphosed into the picture of a model on the cover of Witch Weekly Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror when Narcissa had completed her make-over. Her skin was even, pores vanished, and cheekbones accented by a rose-gold blush. Eyeshadow adorned her lids in smokey hues of both dark blues and silvery grays with a touch of white glitter was emphasized by blue mascara and liner. Soft pink gloss added a tad of shine to her lips. By far her eyes were the most noticeable and were beautifully done.
"Thank you," Hermione gasped. "It's beautiful."
"You are beautiful dear, I've only given it an extra boost," Narcissa deflected the praise. "Now, Lanny tells me you had Madame Malkin design you a gown."
"I wanted something suitable," Hermione explained. "It's hanging in my closet." The gown, which up until now nobody aside from herself and Lanny had set eyes upon was floor-length acromantula silk in a shade of ice blue. Soft white lace and bright pearls adorned the fabric. The dress was strapless showing off her back and shoulders with a modest neckline. Narcissa was stunned silent when Hermione stepped into the gown.
"I think that is more than suitable, my dear. You look magnificent," Narcissa eventually exclaimed. She looked marvelous herself in a snowy white dress that brushed the top of her knees. The neckline was cut low and a wide, red ribbon divided the waistline from the skirt.
"You're also wonderfully dressed," Hermione complimented. "We might be competing for the best dressed award tonight."
"Nonsense, if such an award was actually being given you would be the victor. I'm sure your Fiancé won't be able to take his eyes off of you," Narcissa said gently shaking her almost completely pale blond hair save for the two large chunks of black which framed her face. Hermione now knew that the contrasted streaks were made with a magic dye the night before the witch married Lucius as a permanent reminder that she was a daughter of the ancient and most noble House of Black. Hermione admired the small act of rebellion and strong statement the look represented.
"I thought Antonin couldn't come. If anybody recognizes him he would be carted back to Azkaban immediately."
"True, but nobody will recognize him. He is wearing a glamor tonight, posing as a distant relation to my husband, on the French side," came her explanation. "Of course, you can't be seen spending all of your time together lest questions be raised but I'm sure you can squeeze in a dance or two."
"Well, I'm glad he doesn't have to hole up in his room all night and can enjoy the festivities," Hermione said.
"If I were you, I would sneak off to the gazebo before midnight. Wouldn't want you to miss the New Year's kiss," Narcissa winked. "Shall we head downstairs?"
The hour was drawing close. The table of fine food was already cleaned up leaving only floating trays of champagne and snacks among the dancing guests. Hermione had danced her fair share, with her friends and young wizards her age and several with various other gentlemen of high society. She had even danced with a handsome, blond, blue-eyed wizard with the same cheekbones as Draco and Lucius. He said his name was Antione, but Hermione looked past the glamor and saw him for who he actually was. Now she saw a moment where she could exit the ballroom to enjoy the enchanting gardens outside. There was a break from anybody attempting conversation with her and a lull in the music so the young witch made her escape. She walked slowly towards the arbor taking in the floating candles lighting the pathway. She cast a warming charm over herself and when she reached the charming wooden structure she cast another one over the whole area as well. The music which had started up again inside floated through the garden and Hermione closed her eyes to savor the peaceful moment.
She didn't have to wait long for him to arrive. She had felt the disguised Antonin's eyes upon her all night and knew he would have been observant enough to see her leave. His steps were so quiet she didn't notice them until he was leaning down behind her to whisper in her ear. "Dorogoy, May I please have this dance?"
"I'd be honored sir," she whispered in reply and turned to place her hands in the proper position. His hands crept to her waist and lower back and pulled her in close. A gasp escaped her at the firm tug yet she found herself liking the feel of his body against her. As the music played the couple swayed and turned in tandem with the steady rhythm of the waltz. Hermione had no practical experience with formal dancing and followed Antonin's feet as they moved over the stone floor of the gazebo. It was the last song before midnight and as it faded away the sound of chanting voices counting down the last seconds of the year began.
"Ten," the crowd said. Antonin handed Hermione a glass of champagne he had brought with him. He was rewarded with her radiant smile. Still, he held her close to him.
"Five," resounded from the ballroom. Antonin raised his wand and removed his glamour.
"Antonin," Hermione breathed looking around panicked.
"We're alone," He reassured sensing her concern. "Nobody is watching us and I refuse to kiss you for the first time wearing a blasted glamor."
"One," Shouts erupted but went unheard by the witch as Antonin lowered his soft lips to her in a sensual kiss. He moved his lips mouth against hers and she kissed him back lifting her hand to cup his cheek.
"Happy new year, kotenok," he said as they parted. They lifted their glasses of champagne and toasted to the fortunes 1997 would hopefully bring.
"How are you going to go back unseen," Hermione wondered as the warming charms turned cold once more. It was time to return inside, but the party was still going strong. Antonin smiled before casting a wandless disillusionment charm over himself and vanishing from view.
"Those ublyudki in there are too drunk and cheerful to notice someone they can't actually see," He muttered lowly as he reached for her hand. "I shall escort you inside, my lady, and none shall be the wiser."
When they reached the brightly lit, bustling ballroom Hermione squeezed his hand gently. "Goodnight," she said in a whisper so soft it was almost inaudible. His hand patted her own and then he was gone. Exhaustion had overcome the witch so she desired to make her rounds and give her good tidings before retiring to her room.
She encountered Draco talking to Theo and Blaise first and gave them each a heartfelt hug and peck on the cheek before moving on. Daphne was dancing with her father so Hermione only waved at her and embraced Pansy briefly. When she reached Narcissa, at last, she thanked the older witch for arranging for Antonin to be able to attend and complimented on the well put together gathering.
"Lanny," Hermione called as she reached her room.
"Lanny be helping Missy to bed," The elf announced as she popped into the bedroom. Hermione's dress vanished from her body and floated across the room to the armoire. Her lack of clothing was replaced by her flannels and her hair was taken down with a snap of Lanny's fingers. Hermione used the scourgify charm on her face to clean it of the cosmetics and turned to the elf.
"Where is Antonin's room?" She inquired. "I know it's nearby but not exactly where."
"Miss belongs in her own rooms," Lanny chided but caved when Hermione pressed on. "He is the last door on the right of the ward."
"Thank you Lanny," Hermione replied. She waited for the elf to cease glaring at her with suspicion and leave before she made her own exit. Creeping down the hallway she reached the door and touched her wand to the wards protecting it. Immediately the wards fell and Hermione blinked in confusion but entered the dark room.
Antonin was sprawled on the bed and sat up as she closed the door behind her. "Hermione?" Her name was spoken like a question but also a warning. Hermione ignored him and approached the bed lifting up the corner of the covers and climbing under them. "You shouldn't be here," He said.
"Shhh. I only want you to hold me," Hermione mumbled and burrowed into the bed making herself comfortable. He didn't move right away, clearly weighing in his head if he should send her back to her room or allow her to stay. Moments later his soft sigh sounded and he too went under the covers and cuddled into her. His front to her back he wrapped one arm over her and tugged her closer to him.
"You are going to get us in trouble Dorogoy," he murmured to her.
"Pish," Hermione replied. "We're engaged to be married. I'm spending the rest of my life with you, who cares if we start a little early?'
"Every pureblood tradition in the history of the wizarding world," He said. "You are determined to defy everything we know and turn it all upside down aren't you?"
"I don't know. Something like that probably. In any case, we are just sleeping, nothing inappropriate for any of them to complain about." Hermione didn't know why he needed to protest so much. Honestly, he said one thing but seeing as his hand was inching up the hem of her shirt and stroking bare skin he wasn't in a rush for her to leave.
"I guess you're right," he agreed. "Screw what anybody else says, you and I both know all we are going to do is sleep tonight. That is all we are going to do, right?"
"Of course Antonin," Hermione said. "Only sleeping. I didn't want to be alone. It's my last night here before school starts." Hermione was almost always alone in the castle now and it was gradually draining her resilience not having a constant measure of social contact.
Antonin kissed the top of her head. "I know. Far be it from me to send you back to your own bed." He was asleep a minute later and the sound of his breathing lulled her into the darkness as well and for the first time in a long while she slept fully through the night without dreaming.
Morning dawned all too soon. It was still dark outside when Antonin woke her with a kiss and a gentle shake. "mmmmm, stop it 'Tonin," Hermione groaned shortening his name with her sleepy slurring words. "I'm asleep."
"Sorry kotenok," he said in a manner Hermione did not at all find contrite. "Time to wake up."
"No," she whined. "'tis dark outside." The witch burrowed deeper under the covers and tried to wiggle closer to his body heat stubbornly refusing to open her eyes. Unfortunately her future husband was far more determined than she was and pulled the covers completely off of her.
"Up you get witch," He ordered. "You need to get to your own room before the others start waking up. You can go back to sleep when you get there."
"I don't want to sleep there, I want to stay here," Hermione pouted.
"I don't want you to go either but it is my duty to protect your reputation. So out," he insisted poking her until she sat up. She glared at him in annoyance when he finally provoked her enough into waking. "I'll walk you back."
"You are a cold, mean wizard Antonin Dolohov," Hermione sniffed. "Kicking a witch out of a warm and comfy bed at the crack of dawn." Antonin pecked her on the nose.
"Said little witch needs to get to her own bed before people start talking about her. She wouldn't want rumors to get to her father now would she?" He smirked when she shuddered at the thought knowing he had effectively won the argument.
"No, she does not want to even think about her father thinking about sex, lest her sex life," Hermione bit. "Fine, I'm going."
"That's a good girl," Antonin praised with a grin when she rose from the bed. His smile was wiped from his face when she pulled the comforter completely free from his mattress and wrapped it around her and stomped from his room.
"Hey," He called running after her, "Blanket thief, give those back." Hermione giggled all the way to her room not relinquishing the warm, Antonin scented covers. She climbed into her own bed after reaching her room and pulled his quilt over her own bedding. Antonin followed her the whole way and waited for her to get comfortable before stealing his cover back and banishing them back to his room.
Her lower lip jutted out and she summoned fake tears. "Nuh uh," he said. "Not falling for it. You have your own comforter right here." He tucked her in. "good night."
"I like yours more," Hermione argued but gave up in favor of going back to sleep. "Good night," she whispered.
"I'll see you at breakfast," he murmured. Hermione made a low noise in the back of her throat as acknowledgement and curled on her side facing away from him already falling back into her slumber. He departed after she began snoring lightly satisfied that no one would be the wiser to her empty bed the night before. She had a couple more hours of sleep before anybody would come looking to get her up and ensure she made the train back to Hogwarts on time.
He was going to miss her when she returned. A part of him had been enamored with the girl since he was betrothed to her as an infant, he had always had a soft spot for her. When she was taken, and he had been too late to find her it felt as though someone had ripped a piece of his heart out of his chest. He became enraged and ended up in Azkaban because he hunted down and murdered Fabien Prewett after overhearing that he had a part in relocating his lord's daughter. He had nothing against Gideon Prewett and if he hadn't stubbornly rushed to his twin's aid Antonin would have let him live. While imprisoned he kept himself sane by thinking of avenging his lord and reuniting with the one he would marry.
He never expected to actually be freed from the dementors but after escaping he wanted nothing more than to assist his lord in seeking revenge on those who dared to harm his family. When he met her in the Department of Mysteries he had recognized her before he cursed her. Her eyes remained the same from her early childhood. He had never felt an ounce of the pride he did then when he saw her fiercely fighting side by side with her friends, however he shook himself out of the trance having his orders and wanting the proof for himself. When she didn't die he was horrified with what he had done.
He couldn't bring himself to hope she would ever forgive him. When the dark lord assured him that she was still to be his bride he feared how she would take the news and worried over being married to a witch who despised him. To say he was surprised by her genuine agreeableness to attempt looking past what happened between them before she discovered her identity and try and get to know him was an understatement.
He had fallen for her in the past two weeks. He knew she wasn't quite there yet, but he had a reason to hope. He didn't know how he was going to get through five and a half months with her absence. He would have to make do. All he knew was that the Malfoy boy had better succeed in getting them inside the castle before the end of the year and dispose of the current headmaster. He had too much riding on the dark lord's vision for changes to the education for the boy's mission to fail.
Dorogoy – Dear
Kotenok – Kitten
ublyudki – Bastards