A/N: Remember, we're picking right up from the end of the last chapter.
The first few paragraphs are a Hermione POV and then we move into a shared POV. Hope that makes sense!
"You're a part of me as much as I'm a part of you," Antonin said, his eyes gazing steadily into her own. His expression seemed more frank than she was used to, his voice oddly calm. "The future promised to me isn't one I want if I don't have you with me."
Heart pounding, Hermione could only stare at him even though she desperately wanted to look away. His words were making her mind as much of a mess as her body. She refused to entertain the chance that he could be telling the truth because, quite honestly, it scared her deeply. In some ways, it was more frightening than the possibility of being brought before Voldemort. At least if that happened (horrific though it would undoubtedly be) she had some idea of what she could expect from the evil man and his followers, but also what reactions and emotions she could expect from herself in her attempts to fight back or escape from such peril.
Even though she and Snape had been hoping that Antonin would gain a serious attachment to her, she didn't have the first idea of what she was supposed to do if that should truly happen. There were no books she knew of that told you how to proceed if you had made someone care about you, and certainly not in a situation as complicated as theirs. She didn't know what to do with the power she might have over him, nor did she actually want it. And she definitely didn't want to risk letting him inside her heart because she was all too aware that the damage he could potentially do there would completely devastate her.
No, far safer to ignore the tendrils of deep affection produced by his recent words and actions that threatened to sneak under the defences protecting her heart and emotions, and block him out as best she could. After all, he was almost certainly lying to her. She just couldn't believe that he would betray Voldemort - and it would be a betrayal no matter how much he denied it. Far more likely that he thought she was stupid enough to run straight into his arms and into Voldemort's clutches. How could he possibly think she could be fooled so easily? He'd have to try much harder than that to convince her.
But, of course, he didn't know that his plans (whatever his true intentions) might be completely futile. She was still waiting for Professor Dumbledore to return to the school and bring news with him about their hope that Antonin could be transferred into the Order's custody. Should that happen, the chances of Antonin returning to Voldemort's side were incredibly small and her safety within the Order would no longer be so threatened. They would both be safe. His reaction to that move would tell her much about how he really felt towards her. If he cared more about being further prevented from rejoining the Death Eaters and Voldemort's hateful cause than he did about her greater safety, then she'd know that his words here were all for show. He didn't want his expected future beside Voldemort without her? Well, he could have his freedom to serve Voldemort or he could 'have' her - he couldn't have both. Supposing that Dumbledore and Scrimgeour could come to an agreement, of course…
She could tell Antonin about it now and see the truth in his eyes, but she didn't want to speak of something that might not come to pass. She actually didn't want to talk about anything and not just because her throat was sore. Her heart was still aching from what she'd done to her parents just hours earlier and she'd come here hoping that she could hide from her own thoughts and emotions for a while in the pleasurable escape that only he could give her. His protective and possessive words had now given her even more that she wished to escape from. Although she knew that her actions would imply that she was accepting his vision of their future when she definitely wasn't, her cowardly need for distraction was greater.
She kissed him.
Antonin's eyes widened a little, his hopes soaring - was that her answer? Was she truly putting her trust in him? Had he actually won her over? Knowing her, it seemed unlikely. But perhaps this was the first step towards her full concession. He would take what he could get for now and use this opportunity to show her that she wasn't mistaken for opening herself to his words.
He eagerly returned her kiss, his hands pulling her body even closer to him and Hermione gladly let herself be moulded against every line of him. This was what she wanted, what she needed. No thoughts, just this, just him. She could worry about everything else later.
Her scar was pressed close to his chest, the hairs tickling the overly sensitive markings and she squirmed against the hand at her back. "My scar," she murmured, pulling her lips away from his for just a moment. The pressure at her back eased enough for her to shift herself a couple of inches away from him. Even though much of the rest of their bodies were touching, they both missed the feeling of being fully entwined.
Determined not to be broken out of the escape she craved, Hermione used the slightly increased space between them to slowly drag her hand down his chest. Antonin was vaguely aware of her fingertips tracing a pleasant path through his chest hairs, but he was more focused on slowly stroking his tongue against hers and the hand he'd moved to cup her arse. However, when her hand didn't cease moving once it reached his navel, he unconsciously stilled in surprise. Was she really going to - ?
Hermione felt a rush of satisfaction and heady arousal as Antonin pulled his mouth from hers with a low groan in response to her rubbing her palm down the semi-hard length of him. She stroked her hand up and down a couple more times, feeling him stiffen beneath his underwear.
"Fuck," he hissed, eyes closed and just reveling in the feel of her hand pressing on his cock. He would've happily let her stroke him for a while - hell, he was half-tempted to encourage her to use her mouth on him - but a tiny voice in his mind was able to overcome the powerful sea of arousal he was swimming in and remind him that he was supposed to be the one working for her trust. He pressed his lips to hers and then kissed along her jaw. "Wanna keep you with me forever, moya mechta," he murmured against her skin. He licked up her throat, making her gasp and press her palm against his cock a little more firmly. "Just you and me."
Hermione turned her head away but it did nothing to prevent her from hearing his words. Just the two of them? Who was he trying to deceive - her or himself? If she currently wasn't so intent on escaping from the outside world, she would've pointed out the inaccuracy of that delusion given that he was bound to the most evil dark wizard there had ever been. She was tempted to demand that he stop talking, but the easiest way of making sure he was quiet was to keep his mouth occupied and his mind distracted.
She kissed him again, moving her lips sensually against his, then slid her hand under the waistband of his underwear so that she could properly touch his erect cock. It was still an unfamiliar sensation for her to feel him - the coarse hairs tickling at her wrist, the warmth of him, the soft skin and the firmness beneath. Antonin's hips bucked at the contact and she chased his lips as he tried to pull his mouth away, swallowing his moan down her throat as she curled her fingers around him.
Antonin could barely think straight. The voice of reason had disappeared from his mind completely as all his concentration dropped to the feel of Hermione moving her bare hand up his cock. He didn't know why she was being so forward but he was momentarily powerless to stop her, feeling himself twitch beneath her as her fingers found the pre-cum leaking from his tip. He could feel her touch hesitating, her fingers almost torturously delicate as they explored the head of his cock. His hips jerked with no conscious intention from him, chasing firmer contact with her. There were a couple more seconds of uncertainty from her, and Antonin was on the verge of reaching down to help guide her, when she took him in hand once more and resumed her stroking. She wasn't fast or firm enough for what he'd normally need but he'd spent so much of the day in a state of arousal in anticipation for her visit that he found himself much closer to the edge than he wanted to be. He didn't want to come yet - he didn't know how long Hermione's strength would last and though he knew his lust for her would never be sated, there might not be time enough for him to recover before she needed more rest. He'd much rather shoot his seed into her cunt than over her hand if he could only come once before she had to leave.
Hermione was broken out of her own lust haze as she felt Antonin's hand pull her from his underwear. Had she done something wrong? His responses had been so positive until that moment - the movement of his hips, the firm press of his fingers into the swell of her rear, the heated and breathless kisses. She let him pull his mouth from hers this time and tried to squash her insecurity.
"You're getting me too excited, milaya," he said breathlessly, nudging his nose against hers as he ran his hand up her side so that his thumb made teasing contact with the side of her bra cup. "Been spending most of my time thinking about fucking you again. Don't wanna finish early." He pulled her bottom lip between both of his own for a moment and paused his wandering hand long enough to brush against her covered nipple. "I want to savour you." She shuddered in anticipation and arousal, but he pulled back with a searching look on his face as his eyes swept over her. "Do you feel alright?"
"Nothing hurts much doing this," she replied honestly. "You're a good distraction."
His gaze remained assessing for a couple more seconds before it shifted into something much more calculating and lustful, making her core clench and desire sweep through her once again. "Oh, I haven't even gotten started yet."
Antonin shifted on the bed, encouraging her to lay on her back so that he was above her, their legs tangling. He rested his forearms either side of her head and braced his weight on them to make it easier for him to arch himself away from touching her scar. One of her hands went to the hair at the back of his head, the other stroked his upper back, and her hips lifted upwards to make contact against his cock. There were two layers of fabric between them but the feel of her was still stimulating, and he relished in her neediness for him. He'd wanted her for so fucking long and now that she was his he could still hardly believe it. His beautiful, clever, feisty zhar-ptitsa. He shifted his weight again so that he could trace his fingers over the lines of her face as he stared into her eyes. She was here. She was his. He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't. He had to persuade her. "Moya mechta -"
Hermione was unimpressed to see his heated expression soften again. She didn't want to hear what false entreating words might come out of his mouth so she encouraged his head further down her body. When he was level with her breasts, she slid her bra straps from her shoulders and pushed the cups down. Thankfully, Antonin was suitably diverted, needing no further invitation to use his mouth in a more pleasurable way, and she arched into him as he swirled his tongue around her nipple and reached behind her to unhook the bra completely.
Fuck, he loved listening to the sounds she made when he kissed and stroked her tits. She was so fucking perfect keening, moaning and sighing for him as he teased and pinched her, but he loved it best of all when her fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair and her legs thrashed between his own in response to him closing his mouth around her and suckling her sensitive peaks. Knowing how much it excited Hermione increased his own enjoyment and arousal. None of the other women he'd fucked had been as aroused by his attention to their breasts as she was, and he suspected that it wasn't just the influence of the curse - it was just uniquely her. Fuck, those women had never meant anything to him at the time and now they mattered less than nothing. There was only Hermione now. No other would be able to give him what she did. He wanted no one else and never would. She was everything and she was his.
Hermione moaned as Antonin increased the pressure from his mouth and flicked his tongue back and forth across one nipple while pinching the other. This was exactly what she wanted - her mind was focused on what her body was receiving and nothing else. A pulsing line of desire seemed to run from her breasts to her core and she was desperate for some pressure there. She rolled her hips and clenched her thighs together but it wasn't anywhere near enough. "Touch me," she gasped breathlessly. "Touch me lower, please." She was sure that she could feel his lips pull into a smile as they remained latched onto her breast but his hand did creep lower, carefully avoiding her scar, until it slipped beneath her underwear, mirroring her earlier actions.
She whimpered at the sensation of his finger slowly sliding down her sex and her hips bucked in anticipation. She hadn't realised how wet she was but she could feel him gliding with ease down the most intimate part of her. His finger teased around her opening but the palm of his hand was delivering wonderful pressure slightly higher up, to the area close to the spot which had been particularly sensitive before - her clit, he'd called it. She rocked her hips against him, eliciting those sparks of arousal once more as she chased her own pleasure.
Antonin could hardly believe that his formerly sex-shy virginal zhar-ptitsa was basically humping his hand. Highly aroused, he switched his mouth to her other breast then pushed more firmly against her clit and rubbed his palm quickly back and forth to give her the friction she was seeking. Her breaths were coming in quick, shallow pants and she'd lifted her whole pelvis a couple of inches off the bed in response to the hand stroking quickly inside her underwear. Fuck - was she going to come already? He hadn't even got a single finger inside her yet.
Hermione's whole body was coursing with desire and she could feel the pressure coiling inside her. "Yes," she urged. "Keep going. I can feel it coming. Please."
Antonin lifted his eyes to watch her as she came, transfixed by the sight of her flushed face, her eyes screwing closed, her teeth momentarily biting into her lip before her mouth let out a shuddering cry as her body undulated beneath him. After a few seconds, he eased and slowed his strokes over her clit and pressed soft, open mouthed kisses over her flushed breasts. The fingers he had cupped against her cunt were slick with her arousal and he found it extremely erotic that his hand was still hidden inside her underwear.
He kissed a heated path upwards (skirting her rune key and barely resisted dragging his teeth up her throat because he couldn't risk leaving a mark someone might notice) and stroked a lazy finger through her folds. She bucked against him with a slight whimper, probably still sensitive after her orgasm, but he was level with her mouth once more and she eagerly pulled his lips against hers.
Hermione's whole body was tingling pleasantly in the afterglow of the waves of sexual bliss but she wasn't at all ready to return to reality - she only wanted more.
One of her hands travelled downwards to start pushing at the waistband of his underwear and he smirked against her lips as he complied with her silent request, before tugging her own down her thighs. Once he'd tossed the fabric aside, she parted her knees and rested her feet just below his arse, as though pushing him closer to her heat. He hardly needed the encouragement but took a few seconds to transfer some of the wetness from his fingers to his cock. He tried to lift his head from her lips so that he could look down to guide himself through her folds to pick up more of her slick but the hold she had on the back of his neck wouldn't budge, so he did it blindly instead, which was actually fucking hot when he got his cock lowered in the right position because he was so focused on the feel of her rather than what he could see.
Hermione shivered at the sensation of him - hard and hot - sliding back and forth through her folds, delivering teasing glances to her sensitive clit. She moaned against his mouth, making her lips tingle.
Antonin reached down to guide himself into her but he couldn't seem to find her opening. He needed to look and see what he was doing. Hermione still didn't want to let him go so he had to speak in a muffled voice against her lips, "I need to see, milaya." She removed the tight hold she had on his head and he shifted his bodyweight backwards so he could get a better view of what he was doing. He took a moment to admire her gorgeous pink pussy before placing the tip of his cock at her opening. Slowly, he started to push in. She was so fucking tight and he heard her suck in a breath. Glancing up, he saw that her face was creased in pain so, with immense self-control, he drew back completely. Even though she'd already come once, apparently she wasn't ready for the full size of him yet - at least not in a way that wouldn't hurt her to begin with, and he'd recently discovered how little he liked the idea of Hermione being in pain.
Antonin stroked her thighs and was once again looking at her too softly. She didn't want this Antonin: the one who would whisper sweet lies to her, that thought he could persuade her to betray all those that she loved, who tried to convince her of what could never be true, the one she had to harden her heart against. No, she wanted the Antonin that was filled with lust for her, who would say crude things that would make her thighs clench and her core throb, the one whom she could turn her body over to and lose her ability to think as it was replaced with a world of pleasure. He was right there, she knew he was, but he kept slipping away.
Taking him by surprise, she half sat up and leant back on her elbows. "Need to get you ready," he told her, teasing his finger at her opening as his other hand continued to stroke her inner thigh. "You're too tight." He was taken further aback when she moved down the bed towards him, and he allowed her to manipulate his position until she was straddling his thighs, with most of his cock nestled between her arse cheeks. Antonin could barely breathe at the sudden but incredible feeling of her heat pressed against him, let alone think.
She brought his hand back between her legs. "Go on then," she said simply before pressing her lips against his once more.
He responded instinctively to her kiss as his brain tried to make sense of what she'd said. After a few seconds, she pressed his fingers further into her cunt and rocked her hips slightly, and he finally recalled why he wasn't already fucking her senseless. Helping her lift a little, he eased his finger into her silky heat. He stroked her walls as he sank deeper and swallowed her mewls of approval when he lazily started to pump in and out with shallow thrusts. The movement of her arse against his cock was only giving him a small amount of gratification so he marginally bent the finger that was buried inside her and rotated it to stretch her out more before he could work in a second. She was still so tight, her walls clutching at him and trying to pull him in deeper, but he didn't sense any pain from her and all he could think of was how good she would feel around his cock.
"Are you ready for me, milaya?" he asked, lips at her jaw. His voice was husky with lust and Hermione's toes flexed and curled at the timbre and deeper pitch. "You think you can take my cock into your tight cunt now?"
She felt her walls clench around the fingers that were already doing a wonderful job of igniting her body with heady desire but she was eager for more, almost desperate for the sensation of feeling completely full with his desire for her. "Yes." Her voice came out like a hiss in its enthusiasm. She could feel his rigid length beneath her and she instinctively ground down on him, rocking her hips to demonstrate how much she wanted him, and she delighted in his resulting groan.
"Fuck, witch," he cursed, bucking his own hips in desperate need. "Been waiting for this ever since you left." She whimpered as he removed his fingers but he helped her lift up so that he could free his cock from where she'd been warming it between her arse cheeks, then guided her back to recline on the bed once more. Her hand at the back of his neck kept his lips against hers as he positioned himself at her opening. She canted and wiggled her hips, taking the first inch inside her. She was still gloriously tight around him but with the way she continued to kiss him, he assumed that she wasn't in any great pain. "More," she murmured against his lips, her nails scratching teasing paths over his back. Antonin pushed in a little deeper before rocking his hips to produce small thrusts that gradually increased in depth until he was nearly all the way in. He wanted to tell her how good she felt, how perfect she was, but she seemed intent on keeping his mouth busy and he was more than happy to revel in finally receiving the pleasure he'd been denying himself all day.
Hermione was meeting his thrusts with rolls of her hips, feeling him sink deeper and deeper into her. It all felt just as good as she remembered from last time. Why had she been so scared of something that felt this incredible?
He stilled when he was buried in her completely to relish her clutching heat around his entire length and he blindly reached to caress her breasts. She twitched when he pinched her nipple and he could feel her legs moving restlessly. She whined into his mouth and flexed her hips in an attempt to get him to move. Releasing her breast, he moved his hand to her thigh and lifted it so that it hooked over his hip. The change in angle caused her nails to bite into his skin but she needed little encouragement to raise her other leg so that her thighs hugged him snugly and her heels rested on his arse.
Hermione rolled her hips again, seeking the friction produced by his thrusts but unable to find it. She turned her head aside and gasped, "Move - please."
Antonin languidly kissed down her neck. He was having to ignore his body's own desperate instinct to resume his thrusts because he was enjoying the effect inaction was having on her more. "You want me to fuck you nice and slow?" he asked.
Hermione's mind was becoming fraught, her body moving restlessly in the wake of his cruel torture. Raw lust was coursing through her but it felt like it had nowhere to go as long as he remained still. If he moved slowly, as he'd suggested, she thought it might just drive her insane. "No," she practically whimpered. "Not slow."
"No?" he echoed, nuzzling at her cheek and nipping at her ear lobe, making her gasp. "How do you want me to fuck you then, moya mechta?"
Hermione turned her face to glare at him as hard as she could, which was not easy in her current state of restless arousal.
He smirked back at her, forgetting that he was supposed to be convincing her of his trustworthiness - riling up his little zhar-ptitsa was much too fun.
She let out an inarticulate sound and rolled her hips in frustration.
"Oh, you want me to fuck you deep and fast until you come so hard that your cunt milks the seed from my cock?" he asked and she whimpered again, her walls tightening around him. It didn't matter that this was what she'd been wanting from him, such filthy words shouldn't arouse her so much, but her body had acted without conscious thought.
"Well?" he pressed after a long moment of silence. "Is that what you want?"
She could only hold on to her stubbornness for a few more rapid heartbeats before she admitted through gritted teeth, "Yes."
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and lust. "That's my perfect witch," he praised softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her swollen lips.
He suddenly drew his hips back, only to snap them forwards, repeating the movement over and over so that she was soon gasping for breath. Merlin, it was all she could do to hold on both physically and mentally. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the intense pleasure rippling outwards through her body from her core.
Antonin's mouth was alternating between kissing, licking and nipping at the slope of her shoulder and grunting out expletive-filled praises in both English and Russian. His fiery passion for all aspects of her fuelled him into fucking her deep and fast, just as he'd promised. He wanted to fill her, possess her, so that she could never be parted from him. "Mine, mine, mine," he chanted in time with his thrusts as he picked up the pace even further. He was close and he knew by the increased pitch of her moans that she was too. "Rub your clit," he told her, not wanting to break his rhythm. "Bring yourself over the edge so you can take me with you."
Hermione eagerly obeyed, desperate to find a release from the pressure that was building inside her. She whimpered as her sweaty fingers made contact with that sensitive spot between her legs and it felt like a spark of electricity zipped across her skin. The coiling pressure quickly tightened as she feverishly rubbed her clit. She came with a cry - a flood of ecstacy bursting through her.
"Fuck," Antonin groaned as her walls clenched and fluttered around him, stimulating him towards his release while her whole body rippled with the force of her own orgasm. Her eyes opened, half-lidded with the intensity of the waves of pleasure that were probably still flowing through her, the pleasure that he and he alone would ever bring her. His balls tightened and he rode out his release with another deep groan that was cut off as she covered his lips with her own. A surge of longing for her unexpectedly swept over him even though he was still buried in her cunt, and he reached a hand to her cheek to keep her close. Through his kiss, he tried to convey to her all that he was struggling to put into words to convince her to put her faith in him, that he was prepared to do whatever he could to keep her safe and his - things that he never would've been brave enough to think about, let alone actually do. But for her, he would do them. He only wished that he could make her believe him.
Hermione shut the Arithmancy book with a grateful sigh, glad to have completed her revision on that particular chapter and its tricky problems. It was a rarely used formula but she wouldn't be surprised if Professor Vector included it on one of their upcoming exam questions to really test the Sixth Year students.
Beside her, Nott was quickly organising his haphazard collection of parchments into a neat pile.
It was the third time that the two of them had discreetly studied together in the last couple of weeks - not that the first time really counted because on that occasion Hermione had forced him to share a table with her and he'd tried his best to indignantly ignore her presence. They had studied near each other rather than together.
A few days ago, Hermione had taken the risk of sitting at Nott's table again even though there were other seats available nearby. He'd glared at her and called her a slur again, but she had ignored him and politely asked him about the rune translation homework he was working on. After he snarled at her to mind her own business, she took out her own runes homework and completed it next to him, making frequent enquiries over his answers until she and the difficult task wore him down and he (apparently unaware that he was doing so) started responding to her in a normal tone. The extension question at the end was fiendishly hard, requiring multiple steps and translations through different runic alphabets, and they quietly voiced their ideas and frustrations aloud as they worked until they had cracked it.
"Won't Professor Babbling accuse us of cheating given that we worked together to solve it?" Hermione had asked with a frown as she finished neatly writing out the completed translation on her parchment.
"Collaboration isn't cheating providing that contributions are shared - neither of us did all the work to the benefit of the other," Nott replied, looking carefully between his notes and his copy to check that he'd written it accurately. Hermione supposed that he was right - she'd only ever completed her homework on her own before because she knew that if she tried to work collaboratively with Harry and Ron, she'd get frustrated with the speed of their work and end up doing it all herself. "Besides," Nott continued, "it's likely that we both would've worked it out on our own eventually - this just saved us time." He gave a little snort. "And Babbling would never dream that a Slytherin and Gryffindor would work together, much less you and I." He'd looked up directly into her eyes for the first time since he'd called her a mudblood and hissed at her to leave him alone. But he wasn't glaring that time, though his expression could hardly be called friendly either and that was okay - she wasn't expecting miracles. It was definitely progress though.
When she'd sat beside him tonight, he'd rolled his eyes but didn't tell her to fuck off (more progress) and spoke with clipped civility when he told her that he was revising Arithmancy in preparation for their upcoming exams, and even tentatively asked her how well she understood the methodology in the chapter they'd then ended up working on.
"I really struggled with that formula when we studied it in class," Nott admitted quietly as he packed his things away in his bag. "But I think I've got it now." He looked at her and there was a drawn out moment of silence where Hermione briefly thought that he was going to thank her, but he eventually gave the smallest inclination of his head towards her. She gave him a genuine smile - from a bigoted pureblood that was surely akin to a thanks for a muggleborn, and she tried to moderate her hopes that Nott wasn't lost to Voldemort's sway, that there was something she could do to save him.
Nott stood and left without another word. Hermione began to pack up her own things but less than ten seconds later a hushed voice called, "There you are."
She jumped and looked up to see Harry walking towards her. Surprised and a little alarmed, she quickly glanced around to check that there was no sign of Nott. Harry didn't look angry or confused so it seemed that the Slytherin had left just in time. She hadn't told her friends that she was trying to establish a cordial relationship with a Death Eater's son because she knew that they'd think she was being stupid by putting herself in obvious danger. She was aware that they weren't exactly wrong but nothing had happened to her during her time with Nott so she felt the risk was justified, even if they wouldn't be able to see it. Yes, she felt guilty for lying to them but, well, she had gotten used to that feeling…
Harry gave her a half smile. "I knew you'd be in here somewhere."
Hermione prevented herself from commenting that he could've used the Map to locate her because she really didn't want Harry to see her name next to Nott's should they choose to study together in the future. Instead she forced a smile and a shrug. "Well, it's now less than a month until the start of our exams." Harry just smiled and nodded, used to her intense revision schedule after all their years together. "Why were you looking for me? Is everything alright?"
He sat in the seat that Nott had just vacated and his expression became more serious. "I've just been to see Dumbledore."
Hermione tried not to flinch at the headmaster's name. Months later, it still stung that she was not to be trusted with the knowledge of what Harry was learning with Dumbledore.
"He told me about the plan to move Dolohov," Harry explained in a whisper.
Hermione gave a little gasp. She knew that Scrimgeour had finally begun responding to Dumbledore's owls but she hadn't received an update in a few days. "I see." If the headmaster was talking to Harry about it then that must mean…
"Scrimgeour wants to meet me as part of his agreement to hand Dolohov over," Harry said.
She had known from the outset that the Minister would make such a demand but she still lamented that her friend had been dragged into this mess. Part of her was relieved and another part upset that Dumbledore had told Harry himself instead of letting her break the news to her friend, but it was too late to do anything about it now. "We thought that might happen," she told him sombrely, "I would've told you sooner but we didn't know for sure what Scrimgeour would want in exchange. You know I'd keep you out of this if I could."
Harry nodded. "I do know. The last thing either of us want to do is give in to his manipulations after everything he's put you and the Weasleys through - and the way he's deceiving magical kind about the war but…" He hesitated then put his hand on hers. "You're too important to me, Hermione. I'm not going to put you in danger if there's something I can do to avoid it."
Conflicting emotions battled within her as she squeezed Harry's hand - relief, guilt, hope, sadness, and an underlying anger that their integrity was being compromised in this war by adults who were supposed to be on their side. "I'm sorry," she said.
Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. This was my choice."
"And it was mine to follow you to the Ministry last summer," she reminded him so that he wouldn't take all of the burden on himself for how that night had ended. "This war is making us grow up very fast."
Harry gave her a grim look. "Let's just hope that we can live with the decisions we've made when it's over."
She tried to prevent it, but her thoughts turned uneasily to Antonin. She was a small step closer to removing him from this war and though she didn't feel any regret about that (both for her own sake as well as his) she was uncomfortable with some of the things she did on her last visit. She'd used him for sex to distract herself from her own worries and emotions. Antonin might have been a more than willing partner but she still felt a little grubby for diverting him whenever she suspected that he was about to say something she didn't want to hear. Yet when she did listen to him a little while later after they had cleaned up and she'd gotten some more rest, she'd felt no better. Her muscle spasms may have worn off but it internally so felt just as sick because it had occurred to her that if she 'agreed' to go to him should he escape from Azkaban, that would be their chance to recapture him (and anyone else he brought with him to help seize her and take her to Voldemort). Misleading Antonin about going to him and springing a trap would ensure her safety within the Order when her life was at its most precarious. Games upon games. It didn't matter that he was surely trying to manipulate her just as much as she was leading him on when she told him to name a location, the deceit was beginning to weigh her down.
But now that Harry was willing to meet Scrimgeour, she hoped that the falsehoods would soon be over, that Antonin would take the opportunity to grow into the man he'd been denied from becoming since the moment he was born. Then everything she'd been through would be worth it…
Antonin stared at the folded piece of parchment that had been hidden beneath his daily bowl of broth, his heart racing with nervous anticipation.
He could tell by the way that the parchment had been carefully folded and placed precisely to fit snugly inside the recess at the bowl's base without betraying its presence that it wasn't a random mistake. It was surely a communication of some sorts and the fact that it had been secreted to him suggested that it wasn't from an approved Ministry source. Was he about to hear from someone in league with the Dark Lord for the first time in almost a year? Had they turned or broken one of the aurors to their side? If so, surely his days inside this prison were soon coming to an end as he'd predicted.
His thoughts flew to Hermione, to the old well approximately a mile and a half to the north-east of his ruined family home where he had told her to come to him when she learned of his escape. Would she do it? Or would she let her foolhardy noble Gryffindor sentiments get in the way of her saving her own life? He'd spent most of his waking hours since she'd left a few days ago planning the practicalities of where he would take her to keep her hidden, or working on restrengthening his mental shields in case he were ever required to mask a small deception about her from his peers or even, Merlin forbid, the Dark Lord himself. No one would ever need to know the truth and then he could keep her his forever. His plan would work. It had to.
He snatched up the parchment, eager to read its contents, but after the first few words his blood ran cold.
It was too late.
The Dark Lord already knew about Hermione and the curse.
Antonin's hopeful dream of the future lay in tatters at his feet.
He read further and realised with a mixture of horrified nausea and fury how Hermione's bracelet had really cracked and why her body had been wracked with spasms - it was an occasional aftereffect of being subjected to the Cruciatus curse. There was no mention of it in the note but he knew in his gut that it must have happened. Fuck - her throat hadn't been sore from a sudden illness but from the screams she didn't even remember tearing away at her insides. They must have given her something to mask the damage but it had worn off whilst she was here.
It was so fucking obvious now and he felt like a fool for not realising it sooner, but the unexpected and extreme deterioration of the curse had confused the symptoms in his eyes. Yes, her bracelet had been cracked so he knew something had happened, but they'd managed to explain it away. It had never occurred to him for a moment that anyone who might actually manage to take Hermione (be it the Order or the Dark Lord) would torture her and then send her on her way with a carefully modified memory like nothing had happened. It made no fucking sense. Why would the Dark Lord let her go if he knew how valuable she was? Why was Antonin still in this bloody cell?
Against his will, his mind conjured up sickening images of Hermione suffering at the hands of the Dark Lord and those who remained at large, and Antonin let out an anguished yell. His body seethed with rage at the knowledge that anyone had dared to hurt her. He could only hope that it was just the Cruciatus and not a more intimate assault because the thought of his mechta enduring such a fate made him want to burn down the whole fucking world.
This was exactly what he had hoped to keep her from but he was too late. Too late. The Dark Lord knew and Antonin would never be able to hide Hermione from him now. That dream was dead. He had been a fool, really, to even contemplate it. Circumventing the will of the Dark Lord was impossible. Deep down Antonin had known it all along. Turning your back on the Dark Lord wasn't an option so what the fuck was Antonin supposed to do now?
The parchment shook in his hands as he read on.
And then his mouth dropped open in astonishment.
A/N: So many of you were frustrated that Antonin didn't pick up on the Cruciatus side-effects last time! I know that it was so obvious to you but hopefully you can see here why he didn't notice. Also, I think the muscle spasms side effect is made a much bigger deal of in fandom than canon. Personally, I can't recall Harry suffering from them during the books whenever he was subjected to the curse. Perhaps I'm mistaken.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one. It was really fun to write the shared POV for Antonin and Hermione, showing how different their emotions were in that scene. Antonin far more emotional and needy, Hermione trying to distance herself and just have the pleasure.
We can also see the Dumbledore and Voldemort are secretly going head to head with their plans for Antonin. Which do you think you succeed - an Azkaban break out or move into Order custody?
Until next time - take care, everyone.