A little earlier that evening…

All the weeks and months Antonin had spent waiting, waiting, waiting were finally worth it. Here he was, free at last and with Hermione safely in his hold.

He didn't want to close his eyes in case he opened them again and found it was all a dream. It was a weak thought, and one he wouldn't be sharing with anyone because he knew better than to voice any hint of doubt in the Dark Lord, and nor was it any wiser to divulge a weakness of his in front of others. The latter, Antonin knew he was already struggling with - hiding how important having and keeping Hermione was, and not just as a tool for the Dark Lord to use. He would need to work on that if he didn't want to be exploited by his fellow Death Eaters.

From what Antonin had seen during his escape, Azkaban had fallen without much of a fight: the aurors on guard dealt with before they could raise any alarm, the remaining dementors choosing to join the rest of their kind that had already defected to the Dark Lord's side. He had known the breakout was imminent because his Mark had been burning for some minutes beforehand - a call from his master to come back to where he belonged - and he had waited in nervous anticipation for the moment that fucking door would be opened for the final time. Yes, he was about to regain his freedom, but it might also be the moment that Hermione slipped through his fingers despite his best efforts.

Thankfully, he had been prioritised in the escape: his cell had been one of the first to be unlocked and a wand thrust into his hand. It wasn't his original wand nor the one he had used during his previous stint of freedom, but that hardly mattered. He finally had a fucking wand once more. He was whole again.

"Do you feel the Dark Lord's call?" the voice of the Death Eater who had opened his cell asked. Antonin didn't recognise them behind the mask. "Do you know where he wants you to go?"

Antonin had smiled. "I feel it." His Mark was still painful but it was welcome. He visualised it burning away this part of his life, anointing him for what would come next - this new start that was promised if he could see his plan come to fruition.

The Death Eater nodded. "The Dark Lord wants you to leave at once, don't bother staying to free anyone else - the Ministry might have been alerted in a way we haven't anticipated. Hurry."

His liberator had left but Antonin had no issues with his orders - it hadn't actually crossed his mind to help any of his fellow Death Eaters escape. He had other priorities. Inspired by Hermione's method of moving items in and out of Azkaban, he spelled two pockets onto his robes and charmed them to have hidden depths, then summoned all his books and various pieces of parchment tidily inside. Apart from the last few vials of sleep potion, he had no other personal items to take. The runes for the time spell were invisible and could only be unstuck by Hermione's magic so he was forced to leave them behind. Their magic was neutralised without the presence of the rune key so it hardly mattered.

Antonin had cast a final long look around the cell. He'd been stuck in that room for almost exactly one year. Though it was a huge improvement on the rest of the cells Azkaban offered, it was still a far cry from a pleasant location. He had spent all those months desperate to leave and yet something had pulled at him that felt almost… sad? That didn't feel like the right word but he couldn't quite come up with the right emotion. He was definitely ready to leave but the relationship between himself and Hermione was about to change. They'd shared some good moments here, the cell had made them what they were to each other and bound her to him utterly. The coming change might go well, or it might go to shit, but things would definitely never be the same for them. The illusion, their safe haven, had been broken.

It was time to return to the real world.

There were shouts and yells from most of the cells he passed on his way out of the prison from those who wished to know what was going on, those clamouring for their freedom. The Dark Lord's numbers would certainly swell tonight. Not only would he have the return of so many of his faithful, but the other prisoners would be given the opportunity to join his ranks to earn their release. Antonin doubted that many - if any - would spurn the offer, and the liberators probably wouldn't even need to threaten death as the alternative choice.

A trio of Death Eaters stood guard at the gates, facing the apparition point on the small outcrop of rock that protruded from the fortress's walls. If the Ministry launched a counterattack, it could only come from there, but it was also the point at which the prisoners would all leave this cursed place. Antonin felt no urge to look back at the towering walls - he hoped he never saw the fucking hellhole again. The vast sky in front of him was aptly blood-red, and he took it as an auspicious sign. But the sheer force of the wind buffeting across the sea was trying to drive him back into the prison's hold, the powerful waves crashing over the rocks were doing their utmost to suck him down into their turbulent depths. Antonin's step didn't falter. This place had no hold over him any longer. With half a dozen strides, he reached his means of escape. He concentrated on the pull that was being exerted on his Mark and disapparated.

The first rasping pull of air into his lungs was even sweeter than the various treats Hermione had brought him recently. He turned quickly to survey his surroundings, taking in the large rich vestibule of some town house, the enormous table against one wall that was laden with food (but none of it rich enough to turn the stomach of those who had been sustained rather than fed lately), the grand staircase leading to an upper floor, another table that held steaming bowls of water, towels and clothing, and a closed ornate door that surely led to the outside world. It was obviously the home of one of the Dark Lord's followers but Antonin didn't recognise it. There wasn't another living soul in sight. He was the first to break free.

"This way, master," said a nervous voice at his knee. Antonin didn't even bother to look at the elf - he was much more concerned with finding the Dark Lord and entreating him for permission to get Hermione. "This way to freshen up."

"No, I must speak with -" His impatient words cut off as a shadow at the top of the stairs detached itself and came into the light. For a moment, Antonin had thought that maybe it was the Dark Lord himself, but it only turned out to be Bellatrix.

"So it is done," she said, her large dark eyes fixed intently on him as she descended the stairs. "The Dark Lord -"

"I must speak with him," Antonin interrupted. "Is he here? It's urgent."

Bellatrix had already started scowling at him from the moment he'd cut her off, and she clearly wasn't impressed with his tone, either. "The Dark Lord will speak with you when he wills it, Dolohov," she snapped.

Antonin had known Bellatrix Lestrange for a long time. Being a classmate of Rabastan had exposed him to her more than most in both public and private settings. She had known how to hurt the younger boys in ways to bring about the most pain, like she could sniff it out, but he wasn't going to allow her to get in his way now. He raised his new wand at her, the tip pointing straight at her heart. "I need to see him. Now."

To his immense irritation, she only laughed. "Don't be so dramatic, little Ant," she mocked, the name and her babyish tone bringing back vivid memories of her past torments. His hackles rose but unfortunately she knew - just like he did - that he wasn't stupid enough to do anything to hurt her. "The Dark Lord is in the process of having your muddy pet brought here. Stop letting your tiny, desperate prick's hunger for her filthy cunt addle what little brains you possess. The Dark Lord will speak with you when he wills it," she repeated as though she were speaking to a particularly stupid child. Antonin struggled to contain his rage and hatred. Oh, how he would love to blast her to smithereens, or have her screaming and at his mercy - but he wanted Hermione more, and pissing off the Dark Lord by taking out one of his favourite followers wasn't how he was going to get her.

Reluctantly, he lowered his wand, muttering quiet insults in Russian as he did so, which only made Bellatrix smile sweetly and blow a kiss at him. A crack announced another apparition arrival, swiftly followed by another, but neither Antonin nor Bellatrix looked at the newcomers. "All our master needs from you for now, bug," she said, using another of her irritating monikers, "is confirmation that you did as you were told in his letter."

"I did," Antonin replied shortly through clenched teeth.

"And?" she asked expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

"The Dark Lord was right, as always."

There was a gleam in Bellatrix's eyes. "Good," she purred. "What fun we shall have with her!"

Bellatrix made to move past him but Antonin grabbed her arm tightly. "She's mine, Bella," he said in a low, intense voice. "I'm the one who cursed her. I'm the one whose magic lies within her. I'm the one with the hold over her. Get your own toy to play with - you're not going to have anything to do with mine, I'll make sure of that, unless you want to suffer some very painful consequences."

He knew that his grip must be hurting her but she showed no sign, merely giving him a mock sympathetic look. "You never did like to share." Her face split into a malicious smile. "I can still see the look on your ickle First Year face whenever we caught you trying to keep your sweets to yourself instead of paying your dues." Antonin glared at her, irritated by the reminder of how Bellatrix and the other Sixth and Seventh years had bullied the youngest students when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts. Over twenty years on, she was still a cruel bitch and, no matter what he did, he could never get the upper hand, couldn't manage to intimidate her. He would have to figure it out - for Hermione's sake more than his own, because he couldn't stand the idea of Bellatrix having any 'fun' with his zhar-ptitsa. Unfortunately, she'd only want to hurt Hermione even more if she knew how desperately he wanted to avoid that. It was a precarious line to tread. If only he could talk to the Dark Lord…

Bellatrix's smile turned sickly sweet. "We always got what we wanted then, and I promise you that I still get what I want now. You'll see, bug." She raised her free hand towards his face but he flinched, jerking his head aside and reflexively letting go of her arm so he could take a step away from her. "Twitchy little ant, aren't you?" she mocked before her expression smoothed in an instant. She nodded towards the hot water and supplies. "Now, clean yourself up - you might not be as filthy and bedraggled as those who truly suffered for their loyalty to the Dark Lord these last months, but you still stink. You're not fit to be in his presence yet, whatever gifts you've procured for him. After that, enjoy the feast." She waved her hand at the food at the other end of the hall, and Antonin saw that half a dozen escapees had arrived by now. Another materialised just a couple of feet away and he croakily called Bellatrix's name. She gave Antonin one last sneering look, said, "Do try not to be sick, Dolly," and then went to greet her husband.

Antonin turned away and stalked over to the basin of hot water. He hated how Bellatrix was still able to so easily to get under his skin and he also hated that she was right - he did need to change before seeing the Dark Lord, and he wasn't going to let the other prisoners sully the water with the filth and grime that had built up on their bodies over the last year before he got a chance to wash. With the use of his new wand, he was quickly able to switch the pockets of his prison clothes over to one of the finer robes laid out for the prisoners' use, then stripped off so he could set the offending garments on fire. The flames warmed him just as much as the water that sluiced over his face and body. Others began to join him, but they only grunted out gruff words in greeting as they began to transform themselves back into human beings - wet, naked and recently freed from prison was not the time for conversation. He didn't see Bellatrix travel back up the stairs as he redressed, nor did he notice a few minutes later when Severus Snape looked down at the escapees from the upper level: Antonin's eyes might have been carefully watching the progress of the scissors he had charmed to cut back some of the wilder curls of his hair in a mirror, but his mind was focused on what he was going to say to the Dark Lord as he ignored the anxiety chewing away at his stomach about how they were to safely get Hermione.

"Free again," said a hoarse voice at Antonin's side. Rabastan. The only man that Antonin really considered a friend. They had grown up together since infancy because their fathers had been well-acquainted, thanks to their service to the Dark Lord. Their beds had been next to each other's in the Slytherin dormitory, they had been initiated into the Death Eaters on the same night, and carried out many orders together for the Dark Lord before Antonin had been imprisoned - but men like them didn't have true friends. They weren't weak like most people. Sure, they would discreetly look out for one another, do each other favours and spend a lot of their free time together, but there was no trust, no selflessly putting the other's needs ahead of their own, no allegiance to anyone or anything above the Dark Lord.

"Free forever this time," Antonin said solemnly, as they grasped each other's forearm. After staring at his own reflection for the past few minutes, the contrast in Rabastan was quite evident. The little weight that Rab had gained during his months of freedom last year had disappeared. That, combined with the effects of the Dementors and the lack of mental stimulation that Antonin had been provided, left Rab's face gaunt and shadowed. Whilst Antonin had also had means of looking after his hygiene and appearance, Rabastan's lower face was obscured by a ragged beard and his hair was still a disheveled, matted mess even after he'd washed it. But it was in the eyes that he could see the greatest difference. Antonin had struggled to adapt to his life away from Azkaban last time. He might have physically been off that hellhole of an island but his mind had often returned him there against his will. Without having to endure the Dementors this time, Antonin had been able to keep himself whole. He doubted any of the other inmates had been so fortunate. Glancing beyond Rab at some of the other escapees, he felt more grateful to Hermione, the curse and everything it had brought him than ever. Those men were all broken, whether it had been their first trip to Azkaban or not, and though they would slowly begin to pull themselves back together, Antonin was saved from having to scale that mountainous struggle again.

"Forever…" Rabastan repeated. There was a flicker of doubt in his expression that he wisely shuttered. "Yes, now is our time at last."

Antonin put a bracing hand to the other man's shoulder, silently willing him the strength to quickly fight off his ordeal. The man beside Rab stumbled, almost falling to his knees, but they grabbed him before he impacted against the stone floor. "Easy, Mal," Antonin muttered, helping old Nott find his feet again. "You'll get over the shock soon, trust me."

He and Rab managed to support Nott into a nearby chair as the old man muttered to himself. Antonin didn't understand most of what he said but he definitely heard Mal calling weakly for his son and dead wife.

"Dolohov," a voice called as he straightened and removed Mal's arm from over his shoulder. He turned and saw Yaxley at the top of the stairs. It was almost laughable how much more Yaxley was than all the men below him - the health, the confidence, the cut of his clothes, the alertness behind the eyes as he looked Antonin over… Yaxley seemed to approve of whatever he saw in Antonin because he made a beckoning gesture. Antonin gave parting nods to Rab and Mal but neither seemed to notice.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," Yaxley said quietly after Antonin had reached the top of the stairs.

Fear and excitement rushed through his body. After all the months of waiting, he was finally going to be reunited with his master, the greatest of all wizards, the man he had pledged his life to. It was an honour to be singled out before all these other faithful followers. Surely no one else had given the Dark Lord what Antonin had. Was he pleased? Was Antonin to be rewarded? He knew what he would ask for if that was the case. In fact, he was going to ask for it regardless. The Dark Lord would see the merits of Antonin's proposal, he was sure, and then Hermione would safely be his and no one - not even Bellatrix - would have cause to hurt her.

But first he needed to actually have Hermione. Was it for this reason that Antonin had been summoned?

He glanced at Yaxley as they walked towards a door on the upper floor, trying to gauge what the other man knew, but unfortunately Yaxley's face had defaulted to that of a typical Pureblood - aloofness.

As soon as the door opened and he caught sight of the Dark Lord within, Antonin lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head deeply. "My Lord," he said, with all reverence. "I never lost faith that you would bring about my freedom once again. My life is yours, my Lord, as it always has been."

"Rise, Dolohov. You and the others have served your time for disappointing me last summer."

Antonin repressed any emotion he felt at those words as he got to his feet. They had deserved to be punished for letting their master down but it probably would have been more difficult to accept that the Dark Lord had left them for so long in that hellish prison if he'd suffered the presence of the dementors, like his fellows. Most of his time in Azkaban had been pretty shit - but it had also given him Hermione, and he wasn't going to complain about that. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Bella tells me that you are keen for news about the mudblood."

Antonin resisted the urge to slide his gaze a few feet to the right of the Dark Lord, where he could see Bellatrix reclined on a sofa. He hadn't initially realised that she was present and she wasn't a welcome addition to the room. "Yes, my Lord. You have made it clear that the girl is key to your plans. I only wish to see your will done, master. She mustn't slip through our fingers. If the Order have been alerted about the prison escape, they will surely try to kill her to prevent her weakness from being exploited."

"She will be here before the night's end," the Dark Lord told him. "Severus has been instructed to bring her within an hour but if, for whatever reason, he fails to do so, Yaxley has another means of entering the school and will fetch her himself."

Snape and Yaxley. Two of the Dark Lord's most capable and trusted servants. That should be enough to see Hermione captured, shouldn't it…? Hermione believed Snape was a spy for the Order, so he might be able to catch her off-guard - if Antonin hadn't spent months telling her not to trust any member of the Order and given her a bracelet to block spells so that she might have a chance to get away. And Yaxley? Just one man against the strength of Dumbledore and his staff? No, Antonin was just as concerned about their chances of capturing Hermione as before.

If the Dark Lord sensed Antonin's doubts, he chose not to mention them. "When the mudblood is here, I wish to see evidence of your work," he said.

"Of course, my Lord. I know you will be most pleased with her," Antonin replied with a bow of his head.

"Good - I would hate to be disappointed," the Dark Lord said softly, though the threat was blatant. "The girl still has no idea of the true power you have over her?"

"No," he said with genuine confidence. Hermione wouldn't have been able to hide her horror from him if she'd figured out just how vulnerable she was. "I was careful, my Lord, as you instructed."

"Only Bellatrix and Corban know the truth about the girl's curse because they were here when she was brought before me last month, and that will remain the case," the Dark Lord said. "Whatever plans I have for the mudblood, you are to tell no one how they have been achieved."

"As you command, my Lord," Antonin murmured but his mind was a little distracted at learning that Hermione had been here - possibly in this very room - when she had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse. Which of the three had cast it? Which of them had hurt her? Rationally, he knew that it was only to be expected that any captive of the Dark Lord was likely to be tortured, whether for information or just entertainment, but anger still coiled in his gut that anyone had dared to cause her pain. He hoped it was Bellatrix - he already hated her so at least that anger would be familiar. Harbouring any displeasure towards the Dark Lord wasn't a smart nor safe idea.

Antonin couldn't do anything to change Hermione's past suffering, but he could do his best to ensure it wouldn't happen again. "The girl's future -" Antonin began but he was cut off.

"Will be determined after I have seen you test her," the Dark Lord said. "Once I can truly see how she can best be used to hurt Potter."

"As you wish, my Lord," Antonin murmured, inclining his head again. "I have spent much time in her presence this last year and, intentionally or not, she revealed much of herself to me. I now know her better than anyone. I humbly offer my counsel."

The Dark Lord stepped closer until he was only a couple of feet away. "You have done well, Antonin. Though you could not have anticipated the repercussions of your failed curse, I was able to see in her mind how you have cultivated a relationship with the mudblood that will bear additional fruits, even bringing yourself to routinely touch a mudblood."

"My Lord," he said, tone desperate but quiet because he didn't want Bellatrix in particular to hear his main hope for keeping Hermione safe. "She can't -"

"Later," the Dark Lord interrupted again and Antonin obediently pressed his lips together. "It is time to address the others."

The Dark Lord swept past him, the door opening upon command. There was little sound coming from the hall below but a deathly silence fell as the Dark Lord stood atop the staircase where all could see him. Yaxley, Bellatrix and Antonin followed him but remained at a distance so as not to take away from the Dark Lord's presence. After the men below had been stunned into temporary stillness by his sudden appearance, they started to lower themselves to their knees - some more easily than others - with weak cries for their master.

When every head was bowed, the Dark Lord spoke. "Here you all are, before me once more. A year ago I tasked you with the simplest of tasks. Yet you failed me. You were defeated by a small group of children." Nobody had dared to lift their head yet. "You are fortunate, indeed, that you were captured and imprisoned by the Ministry because your suffering amongst the Dementors this past year is nothing compared to the pain and wrath you would have faced had you escaped imprisonment and returned to me."

As voices below them called out for forgiveness, there was a twitch of movement at the edge of Antonin's vision, and he just caught sight of a haunted expression on Bellatrix's face before she repressed it. She was the only one to escape from the Ministry battle, the only one to face the Dark Lord's punishment. For the first time in his life, Antonin felt pity for the woman for what she would have endured for their collective failure, but he returned his gaze to the scene in front of him before she caught him looking.

"Crucio!"

Each body tensed in anticipation of being the unfortunate victim of the Dark Lord's retribution. But their master had been precise with his target and Lucius - the man in charge of the failed assignment - unluckily had a distinctive white-blond head, that now jerked and twitched in agony. No one else moved as the man's choked groans and cries echoed around the large space.

"So many of my so-called best and dependable Death Eaters subdued in a single blow," the Dark Lord continued calmly after rescinding the spell, leaving Malfoy sprawled and wheezing into the floor. "My enemies would have expected my progress to falter at such a setback. Yet, despite your combined absence, I have steadily managed to increase my power. Your Lord stands on the precipice of making our shared dream for the future into a reality. Albus Dumbledore will not live to see another sunrise -"

A ripple of shock went around those knelt on the floor and Antonin let out a small gasp of his own - Dumbledore dead?! He noticed that neither Yaxley nor Bellatrix looked shocked by the announcement and he doubted that it was a coincidence that they had been freed from Azkaban on the same day the old man was to die.

"There is a place for each of you in the new world I intend to create if you are still loyal and of use to me. I could have left you in Azkaban but I am willing to give you a chance to redeem yourselves in your service to me." The Dark Lord slowly began to descend the stairs and Antonin could see the kneeling men inching closer to him, desperate to pledge their lives to their master all over again.

Despite his worries for Hermione, a surge of pride and excitement filled Antonin's chest. It was finally happening. With the old man dead, the rest of magical society would soon be swept aside and the Dark Lord would ascend to his rightful place as leader over the entire country. The dream that Antonin had been told about his entire life would soon be as promised, and he would be there to witness it as a free man, with Hermione hopefully right by his side.

The Death Eaters were reverently reaching their fingers to the hem of their Lord's cloak as he walked amongst them. He spoke to each man in turn, accepting their renewed vow of eternal servitude and ordering them back to their feet.

"Come, we will wait in the study for Severus to return with your mudblood," Yaxley said, walking along the upper hallway. Antonin didn't need to be told twice and eagerly followed Yaxley to a different room. Fortunately, Bellatrix didn't join them.

Yaxley looked quite at home, so Antonin assumed the house was his. To take his mind off the anxious wait, he questioned Yaxley about Dumbledore's expected death (he wasn't surprised to hear that it was the Malfoy boy who was set to complete the deed seeing as he and Hermione had figured that out months ago) and also pushed for details about what he had missed whilst in Azkaban.

"So, did you fuck her?" Bellatrix casually asked as she came into the room some time later. "Your whore? We know she liked you touching her."

Antonin had to fight back his furious instincts. The woman took every opportunity to seek out new weaknesses, to inflict more pain, and he didn't want to give her any weapons. He let out a caustic scoff and sneered, "What do you think?"

"I genuinely don't know, bug," Bellatrix replied, looking at him with a calculating expression on her face. "On the one hand, she's a filthy mudblood - Potter's filthy mudblood at that."

"Pretty, for a mudblood," Yaxley piped up, which didn't help Antonin's temper at all. "No point in denying yourself some young, tight cunny if it's offering itself. Not like you'd've had any other options besides your own hand. A man has needs."

"So, you'd have done her would you?" Bellatrix asked, eyes narrowed. Antonin needed this conversation to stop but he didn't know how without turning his wand on one of them.

"Probably," Yaxley admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "Even if she wasn't offering it."

Bellatrix giggled and Antonin shot to his feet, incensed at Yaxley simply alluding to raping his mechta but, luckily for him, the Dark Lord had entered the room a split second before, allowing him to mask his movement as a sign of respect.

"The assigned hour begins to draw to a close," the Dark Lord announced.

No sooner had he spoken when there was a soft crack, and Snape was before them with Hermione held in his arms…

As the Dark Lord instructed Snape to return to the school and be ready, Antonin gazed down into Hermione's peaceful face. Everything was about to change. He knew that she was going to be angry with him - furious even - but this was the only way, their only chance at a future. He had faith that eventually she would come to accept that he was right. It was time for her to leave her old life behind.

"Does it work even when she's asleep?" the Dark Lord asked.

Antonin glanced up. Snape was gone. The other three were watching himself and Hermione with clear interest. "Yes," he replied. "But I don't know whether that's still the case if she's stupefied." He awkwardly placed Hermione's limp form in a chair (that was conveniently far away from Yaxley), using his hand to prop up her drooping head.

"Wake her," the Dark Lord ordered, "but get her to remain still for now."

"Yes, my Lord." Keeping one hand on her cheek, he withdrew his wand. "Ennervate." As soon as her eyes started to flutter open, he said, "Sit still, milaya. Don't struggle."

His position meant that he was crowding her vision, the only thing she could see. She stared at him in confusion, still groggy. "Antonin?" Her gaze became more lucid as her eyes travelled over his face and clothes, perhaps noticing the changes. Then she suddenly sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide and fearful as she looked beyond him. "No! This - this can't be happening. This can't be real."

Antonin had never seen her look or sound so scared, which was understandable given the scene she'd woken up to - anyone would be terrified at the sight of the Dark Lord. He brushed his thumb soothingly over her cheek but she didn't seem to be aware of the action.

"We have awaited your arrival for quite some time, mudblood," the Dark Lord said, stepping closer to her. "Ever since you left, actually." Hermione's eyes were still wide, her breaths quick and shallow, her lips white with how forcefully she was pressing them together. "But you don't remember that, do you?"

"R-remember what?" she whispered breathlessly, shooting Antonin a quick glance.

"That you've been here before, child. A cowardly auror brought you here on Yaxley's orders so we could discover why you were visiting your dear Antonin," Voldemort explained, his tone unnervingly gentle. "When I delved into your mind, I not only discovered your identity and how the curse has bound you to Dolohov forever, but also something rather astonishing that neither of you had realised. Something that - if I were right - I could use to strike a colossal blow against everyone and everything you hold dear."

Her head was shaking, rejecting his words, and she now looked as confused as she was scared.

"I modified your memory and sent you off to Azkaban to carry on your life as normal until the time was right to use you. Since then, I was able to get a message to Dolohov so he could test what I had sensed within you."

Hermione flinched under his hand and he saw the betrayal in her eyes. The deception had been necessary to bring them both to this point but the look she sent him still cut at him. Her pained expression morphed into anger. "I knew I would be a fool to ever let myself trust you," she spat in Russian and jerked her cheek away from his touch.

"Show her," the Dark Lord said softly. "Let her see how futile it is to put up a fight."

Antonin turned away from Hermione's hateful gaze, repressing a sigh. "Any requests -" He saw Bellatrix's eyes light up and quickly added, " - my Lord?"

"On the ground, befitting of her kind." The Dark Lord looked pleased with the idea.

Antonin touched his fingers to the back of Hermione's hand. "Prostrate yourself on the floor before the Dark Lord until I tell you to get up." For a moment, she looked at Antonin as though he were mad but then her formerly still body slid from the chair and stretched out on the carpeted floor as she'd been commanded.

Bellatrix let out a shriek of laughter at the sight, which grated down Antonin's spine.

From where Antonin stood, he could see one side of Hermione's shocked face. "You can control me?" The question was quiet, partly obscured with half of her face pressed to the floor, but he nodded.

"I could sense the influence he would have over the remnants of his dark magic that reside within you," the Dark Lord told the witch at his feet. "I found past incidents in your interactions where he had unknowingly compelled you to speak or act when he was touching you."

The Dark Lord made a beckoning gesture.

"You can rise," Antonin said but he immediately sensed from the suddenly intense look in her eye that she was planning something. He threw himself forward and managed to stop her from turning. She had been about to attempt wandless disapparition and, knowing how gifted and powerful his witch was, she probably would've succeeded. "Never apparate or disapparate without permission from myself or the Dark Lord," he said quickly once his fingers had found hers.

Hermione wriggled and writhed in his grasp. "Get off me," she cried, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't touch me!"

"Stop fighting," he commanded and she stilled at once. "Don't ever attempt to escape. Never intentionally harm yourself through magical or physical means."

He could feel her chest rapidly expand and then deflate as she let out a couple of choked sobs. He pulled her to her feet and she glared round at them all.

"That nearly worked. Clever girl, it's almost a pity you're a mudblood," the Dark Lord commented. "Antonin might be able to enforce your obedience but you still require punishment." He turned to Bellatrix. "What would you have her do, Bella?"

Antonin tried to hide his internal spike of alarm at the gleam of pleasure in the woman's eyes. If Bellatrix requested something truly demeaning, he swore to himself that he would find a way to refuse her.

Bellatrix's smile was cruel. "I want the mudblood to tell me her dirtiest, most embarrassing secret." The woman was relentless, always seeking what would deliver the most pain - and she was clever and sadistic enough to know that it wasn't always physical suffering that was the most hurtful.

Unfortunately, the Dark Lord looked amused by Bellatrix's request and he gestured for Antonin to obey. Hermione quickly backed away from his touch, her eyes blazing with anger and fear, but Yaxley stepped into her path. She stumbled sideways to avoid him but that brought her close enough to Antonin for him to snag her wrist. His earlier command prevented her from trying to fight him off but she turned beseeching eyes on him. "No - don't!"

If Antonin wasn't sure that he already knew her secret, he might feel more guilty about forcing her to reveal it. He just kept telling himself that this had to be endured for a little while until the Dark Lord was victorious, and then they would be left alone. She would understand in time but it still pained him to know that he was hurting her when he said, "Tell Bellatrix your dirtiest, most embarrassing secret."

Hermione closed her eyes as he spoke, triggering a tear to trickle down her cheek. Then she turned to Bellatrix, and the lips she'd been pressing together parted. "Antonin and I have had sex."

"I knew it!" Bellatrix crowed in triumph, looking wickedly amused as she exchanged smirks with Yaxley.

But Hermione had lifted her other hand to her temple, looking pained.

"Milaya?" Antonin asked in concern.

She glared at him and hissed, "Don't call me that."

"So, did you take her, compel her or did she offer it up like a whore?" Yaxley asked, leering at Hermione.

Antonin furiously levelled his wand between Yaxley's eyes. "Call her that again…" he threatened, voice low and dangerous.

Yaxley stared coolly back and Bellatrix snorted. "Men and their cocks."

"Enough, Dolohov," the Dark Lord said. "Our time is short."

That was the first that Antonin had heard about a need for haste and he turned towards his master in surprise. "My Lord?"

"I wish to see if you can compel her to perform magic that goes against her nature," he instructed.

Antonin could feel Hermione trembling beneath his hold. "Dark magic?" he asked.

"Any spell of your choice," the Dark Lord agreed. "Use Bella and Corban as your victims."

"Yes, my Lord." Antonin threw a quick smirk at the two Death Eaters, who were trying to hide any negative reaction to the orders. "Hermione, I'm going to give you your wand back. Cast no spells other than the ones I order you." She glared at him, eyes shining wetly, but said nothing. He released his hold on her so that he could retrieve her wand from the desk where Snape had left it. She didn't move and accepted her wand without a murmur, but her glare intensified when he dared to put his hand to her cheek again. "Cast the burn forever curse on -"

"I don't know your counter-curse," she interrupted. He could tell that she was unsettled that he had told her to perform the spell she'd deeply regretted casting at one of her friends so many months ago.

"I do," he replied calmly. "Cast the curse at Yaxley."

"Goret'vechno."

Both her wand and voice were steady at the crucial moment, but she flinched as Yaxley let out a terrible scream, his arms and legs flailing to put out flames that weren't really there. Antonin ignored him, happy to prolong his suffering. "Fill yourself with hatred," he told Hermione, stroking across her cheek as she stared at the writhing Yaxley. "Use the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix."

"Crucio."

Sweet vengeance and pride filled Antonin's chest at the sight of Bellatrix falling to her knees. She was biting her lip to stop herself from screaming, her mouth becoming stained red as she twitched and jerked with the intense pain.

The Dark Lord let out a high, unnatural laugh as he watched two of his most trusted followers in the throes of agony. "Very good, very good."

Antonin could feel Hermione's skin heating up under his touch. Concerned, he made her cancel Bellatrix's spell. "Is the curse burning you up? Tell me," he added when she didn't respond.

"Yes," she stubbornly let out through gritted teeth. "A little." She was like stone beneath him - warm stone, yes, - but he recognised the signs that she had retreated behind her mental barriers.

"Dol - hov - you - bas - tard," Yaxley's agonised voice choked out.

"Enough," the Dark Lord ordered.

Antonin non-verbally cancelled the burning curse without taking his gaze from Hermione. He didn't think that any of the tests of his influence over her from the past few weeks had triggered a need for him to soothe the curse - but casting that curse all those months ago had. "My Lord, the use of Dark Magic is having a negative effect on the curse," Antonin said, ignoring the struggles of Yaxley and Bellatrix as they got to their feet. "I would advise that you test her no more for now and allow me to soothe the worst of it - it should only take a few minutes of my touch."

"No, what I have seen is already sufficient," the Dark Lord said. "I believe that your compulsion is strong enough to make her kill Dumbledore."

Hermione's head turned so sharply to stare at the Dark Lord in utter horror that it nearly dislodged Antonin's touch. "No!"

Antonin was almost as shocked as she was. "But the Malfoy boy?"

"Draco has his opportunity to fulfil his task, of course, but I have my doubts that the boy has what it takes," the Dark Lord said indifferently. "He is weak."

"He has breached the castle's defences," Bellatrix said hotly, using the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her lips. "He won't let you down, my Lord."

But their master looked far from convinced. "We shall soon find out. Meanwhile, the mudblood will be an assurance that we will be rid of the old fool once and for all. She will have no difficulties getting close enough to him to carry out the deed - the Order will never see her coming - and having their hero slain by Potter's own pet mudblood will be a betrayal that will devastate them all the more."

"My Lord," Antonin said, desperately thinking of an alternative that wouldn't endanger Hermione and everything they had, "If you are intent on wounding the Order with such a plan, can we not send another, disguised to look like her - perhaps with Polyj-"

"No," the Dark Lord interrupted harshly and Antonin stilled his tongue at once. "I wish there to be no doubt and even if I were inclined to send another in her place, there is no time. The mudblood will do it."

"No, no," Hermione was murmuring over and over, then she suddenly turned desperately to Antonin, clutching at his new robes. "Antonin, please. Don't make me."

"If Draco actually succeeds before her," the Dark Lord continued, ignoring Hermione's turmoil, "instruct her to kill any other Order members or allies of Potter that cross her path on her journey back to us."

"No!" Hermione let out a horrified cry and pulled harder than ever at Antonin's robes as she sank to her knees. "Antonin, please. You can't. Please, no. Don't do it."

Ever since Antonin had seen for himself that Hermione would do as he instructed when he touched her, he had known that he would be forced to make her do something that she would find abhorrent - this was war and she was caught in the middle - but he hadn't anticipated that it would be quite this brutal. The Dark Lord was ruthlessly exploiting his new advantage and there was a good chance that Hermione was never going to forgive Antonin for this after all. But there was no point in refusing the Dark Lord's wishes and nor did he want to. With Dumbledore dead as well as any key Order members, the war would only be over quicker. Hermione was a weapon, and these deaths were necessary to bring about the Dark Lord's peace, the future he had promised. "Be quiet," he told her. She thankfully fell silent immediately. "This must be done," he said in Russian, then looked away from her anguished face.

"Yaxley will accompany the mudblood to deliver and return her safely," the Dark Lord continued, still ignoring Hermione's distress.

"My Lord," Antonin said, appalled. "Surely I must be the one to go with her. I'm the one who can control her. She will be burning up after a single Killing Curse - she will need me. It would be so easy to lose her and we can't let that happen."

"No. I will not risk you getting captured alongside the mudblood," the Dark Lord said. "Even if she's lost, Potter and the others might still want to save her life from the curse and they can't do that without you. We can use that weakness against them. You will remain here. If you instruct her well enough, the chances of losing her are minimal."

Antonin hated that he was entrusting the safety of his zhar-ptitsa to Yaxley. He half-regretted letting the other man burn so long under the curse. Again, he saw that neither Yaxley nor Bellatrix looked surprised by the Dark Lord's orders. This had evidently been the plan for a long time. "As you command, my Lord."

"Work quickly," the Dark Lord instructed. "I want her on her way to Knockturn Alley within five minutes."

Antonin could feel Hermione's head shaking back and forth against his thigh from where she was silently slumped, his fingers buried in her curls. There wasn't much time to prepare her. If something went wrong, she might be lost to him forever. It might end up being futile but he said, "Take off your cloak and robe. If I touch your scar for a couple of minutes, it might be enough to stop the curse taking you over later."

She obeyed him, rising to remove her outer layers of clothing to reveal the simple blouse and skirt beneath. Her cheeks were wet but her eyes were hateful. If he hadn't silenced her, he was sure she would be castigating him right now. He put one arm around her back so she couldn't step away from him then slid his hand beneath her hem and up to her scar. She shut her eyes but the shifting of her expression still made her mixture of anger, despair, disgust and pleasure clear. The intensity of his touch on her scar might be distracting her but he knew from previous experience that it wouldn't prevent her from completing anything he compelled her to do at a later time. And so he gave her the required instructions, adding in safeguards requiring her to remain no more than three feet from Yaxley, forbidding her from any communications, repeating that she wasn't to attempt an escape, that she was forbidden from casting any other spells than those explicitly ordered and that she must fill herself with hatred until her tasks were complete.

Antonin had only just gotten Hermione into his arms and now he was being forced to let her go out into an unpredictable and dangerous situation with only Yaxley aware of the truth.

"Don't worry, Dolly," Bellatrix teased in that damned babyish voice as Hermione reclothed and Yaxley fixed his mask in place. "Corban will look after your little pet for you. But if he loses her or she ends up dead, I'm sure there are lots of muddy holes littered around the countryside that you can stick your tiny cock into."

"At least her cunt doesn't have teeth," Antonin sneered, shooting a pointed glance at Bellatrix before returning his gaze to watch Hermione and Yaxley disappear with a crack.

Fuck, the wait for her return was going to be even more tortuous than before.

But when she was back and the old man was dead, the worst would be over and they could start building towards the future.

It was the beginning of the end.


A/N There you have it. Here is the truth at last. The revelation that Antonin's touch can influence Hermione has been a long time coming and there have been plenty of hints in previous chapters where he's done this without her realising. Can you think of any? I've been paranoid for months (years, really!) that someone would spot it before the reveal but hopefully I've managed to surprise you.

I know that so many of you will be disappointed in Antonin. He had come such a long way but he wasn't ready to turn his back on Voldemort and the grip that man has held over him his entire life. As much as he wants to protect Hermione, refusing the Dark Lord's orders would basically be a death sentence for him (and Hermione, seeing as she needs his touch for the curse). Defying the Dark Lord is not an option. Instead, Antonin has convinced himself that all will eventually be well for him and Hermione in the world the Dark Lord makes. We shall wait and see...

Obviously, I would love to know your thoughts about what happened here and what the future might entail.

In two weeks, we'll return to the Astronomy Tower. See you then!