Hello! This will be my first Hermione/Antonin story. I've got most of the story planned, though if your muse is anything like mine, it changes sporadically so there's no telling where this story will wind up. I don't have an update schedule, though I am almost done with the second chapter. It's essentially a battle of my muse vs time I can write. :/

At the moment, the story will be a bit of gollywhopper, so I have no idea how long its going to be. Chapter lengths will vary as well. Please leave reviews, as it does feed the muse. :)

Pairings: Hermione/Antonin Luna/Rabastan

Most fugitive muggle-born, half-blood, and blood-traitors had been picked down one by one. In the beginning, after the battle had been lost, they scattered by roaches. It had been easy enough to find various safe-house as they stupidly hid in hordes, clinging together. Sure, one or two would fight, however the others would look on with hopelessness shimmering in their eyes. However, as time passed, it grew harder to find the fugitives, and so the bounties placed upon them were astronomical.

Not every fugitive was returned to Azkaban. Most of the males were killed simply because they brought more trouble than they were worth. The Weasley family, for example, was almost completely terminated except for three of the children.

Life carried on. Not peacefully, not normally. But it continued.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember anything besides slaughter. Killing, raping, torturing at every turn. None of this occurred with any Purebloods, of course, unless they were blood-traitors, or were actually committing the acts. Only the inferior population were spit upon.

However, most of the wizarding population fit into the category of being inferior.

The inferiority presented a great problem: there was a severe lack of suitable mates to carry on family names.

There were whisperings of course, throughout the ranks. Rumors began to spread, and suddenly, the idea of complete pureblood supremacy began to seem impossible.

The disreputable scandal that occurred between Rodolphus Lestrange and the muggle woman he impregnated seemed to be the straw to break the camel's back that lead to a great amount of uncertainty throughout the Death Eater ranks. Would they have to resort to Muggle women to carry their heirs?

The Dark Lord, charismatic in every area but physical, proposed a solution. The half-blood and blood-traitor women were to be given to the male members of a pureblood house. These women would be chosen by Death Eaters to carry on their family names and blood. The muggle-born women were to be left for those of lower prestige and lower rank. Or, as play toys for the most odious of Death Eaters.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing. (William Shakespeare)

April 5, 1999

Antonin Dolohov held an indescribable amount of disgust for the decree declared by the Dark Lord. Of course, he never told this information to his fellow Death Eaters except for a select few trustworthy as even the thought of it would be treason. His acquaintances, if he could even call them such, had lined up at the opportunity to be in possession of their own play toy.

Even Rabastan Lestrange, a man he had come to trust in a short amount of time, seemed to find little problem with the law. After the scandal with Rodolphus, Rabastan seemed to mature overnight. Despite the inevitable wear that sprung from years in Azkaban, Rabastan had still managed to retain a youthful, somewhat cruel spirit. Now, however, the lines in his face had deepened and his eyes had grown weary. There were many a night that Antonin and Rabastan spent in the Lestrange parlor with a glass of Fire Whiskey and the bitter tongue that came from the fatigue spawned from a cause that neither had enough heart left to advocate.

As he and Rabastan looked upon the row of girls with hollow cheeks and sickly skin, Antonin could not identify who he hated more: Rabastan who convinced him to come, or himself, who agreed.

The girls, though they were imprisoned in Azkaban, were always presented in a special room deep within the Ministry. Initially, the "choosing" room was a damp room in Azkaban, however there was little turn out from the Death Eater population. Few were willing to return to a place where they spent many maddening years.

The girls wore the dirty, striped rags of Azkaban prison. Some had bruised faces. Others still had the tears of dried blood stuck in place that told of past punishments. They were connected by glowing shackles on their wrists that emitted a power surge of energy.

A few of the girls cried silently, while others held no emotion on their faces. They knew what it meant to be chosen by a Death Eater. It was essentially a coin toss as to whether they would be treated kindly or tortured brutally upon arrival. One of the girls chosen prior had committed suicide a few weeks after being selected by one of the more depraved of the bunch. Since then, curses had been placed upon the girls to ensure that any suicidal thoughts or actions were snuffed out quickly.

It was abhorrent.

Alecto Carrow seemed to take pleasure in her position as warden to the new women's ward in Azkaban. Her cruel eyes and yellow sneer in the direction of the girls was disconcerting. Upon further examination, Antonin spotted a large, blunt ring on one of her fingers that seemed the exact size as some of the marks on the girls' skin.

Rabastan looked over the girls, the excitement worn away as he took in the appalling sight. Antonin chose to stare at the floor.

They weren't alone, as a handful of other Death Eater's had taken interest in the girls as well. Some more than others. Walden Macnair looked utterly thrilled at the prospect of picking out a new toy. There were rumors that he had already broken the first one. Young Theodore Nott, followed by his father, was a sick shade of green. It was highly likely he had attended school with most of the girls before him.

"Finally convinced to pick one out, Dolohov?" Macnair sneered. Antonin, the large man that he was, stared down at Macnair.

"Not today," He stated, his tone stolid.

Macnair scoffed and walked over towards one of the girls, her gaze focused firmly on the floor. He grabbed a handful of her dull, black hair and pulled her head back, revealing her face. She could have been attractive in her past life, with brown, almond eyes. However, it was difficult to tell from the cuts on her face.

"What's your name, Chit," Macnair growled. The girl glanced around, searching for anywhere else to stare besides Macnair's sweaty face. Her dead eyes met Theodore Nott, who held his hand over his mouth, likely to keep anything unsavory from coming back up. They looked about the same age.

Cold eyes still on Theodore, the girl answered in a raspy voice. "Cho."

Macnair smirked, releasing Cho from the grip he held. He glanced over at Alecto. "This one. I want this one."

Alecto gave a shark's smile. "Maybe you won't break this one."

A flash of fear passed over Cho's features as Alecto removed the restraints placed upon her. The girl would have a better chance at life in Azkaban.

Macnair left with Cho in tow. Antonin could not feel worse for the girl. Theodore Nott and his father left as well, likely because Theodore could no longer hold the contents of his stomach.

Throughout the exchange, Rabastan had kept his eyes locked with girl that Antonin could only describe as wispy. Antonin watched as his friend took a step towards the wispy girl.

"You have a lot of sadness in your eyes," She said, her voice like a lullaby. The trance she held Rabastan in was broken by the barking of Alecto for the girl to "only speak when spoken to". Rabastan glared at the squat woman.

"Please remove her restraints," He said.

"You don't want that one. She's barmy," Alecto jeered.

"Remove her restraints," He growled, the statement no longer a request but a demand. Alecto huffed but did as she was told, though she pulled on the wispy girl more than necessary. The girl smiled at Alecto as the last of the restraint was removed.

"Maybe one day the nargles with give you back that missing tooth in the back of your mouth," The wispy girl said, eliciting an uncharacteristic snort from Antonin. Alecto looked as though she wanted to murder the girl right where she stood, however one glare from Rabastan led Alecto to stand down.

The trio left the cold, "choosing" room and walked towards the office where Rabastan would sign papers official making the wispy girl his. It reminded Antonin of purchasing an owl.

The girl, whose name they learned was Luna, turned out to be pleasant even as everyone around her essentially decided her fate. Rabastan was utterly captivated, causing him to write down a majority of information on his paper work incorrectly. Dolores Umbridge, or the Toad, as most Death Eaters dubbed her, grew very impatient with his mistakes, though refused to say anything in fear of the Lestrange name.

The Toad eyed Luna up with a curled lip, and Luna did just the same. The blatant loathing was not lost on anyone save for Rabastan. Once the paperwork was done, Antonin was all too ready to leave the tense air that had built.

"Umbridge!" A voice shouted, accompanied by the sudden opening of the office door. In the doorway stood Amycus Carrow with a meek girl in tow. He threw her to the floor at Antonin's feet.

"What is the meaning of this Amycus?" The Toad shrieked in her shrill voice. Amycus sneered, and glanced down at the tiny girl with a rat's nest for hair.

"She's already been claimed, Dolores! She has the stench of another wizard's magical signature all over her!" He raged, spitting ruefully on the girl. The Toad gave out a 'tut'. Amycus shoved his way to Umbridge's desk, stepping on the girl in the process. The cat pictures that covered the office wall meowed in unison.

While Umbridge and Carrow argued back and forth, Antonin and Rabastan made no move to stop Luna as she made her way over to the girl and crouched down. She moved the girl's hair so that her right cheek was visible. Luna softly touched the girl's cheek, wiping the spit away.

"Hermione," She whispered. The arguing stopped as the room became focused on the two girls.

"I will have you know, Amycus, that Hermione Granger has not already been claimed. I saw to that myself!" Umbridge huffed indignantly

Antonin could not keep his eyes off the Hermione Granger. He'd had encounters with her during and after the war, however the most vivid he could recall the was Battle of the Department of Mysteries. She'd silenced him, taking him completely by surprise. Then, he hit her with a curse of his own design. Her internal organs should have contracted into themselves, essentially crushing her internally. She should have been dead. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he still thought of her occasionally, wondering if his curse has left any lingering effects.

"Check then. I tried to bond her to me, and the bond was rejected completely." Umbridge, scoffed and moved from around her desk, taking her wand out and pointing it at Hermione, whispering an incantation. The Toad frowned as a glowing line began to form from Hermione's breastbone to hip bone.

"How is this possible?" She whispered in bewilderment. She looked at Antonin, suspicion in her eyes. "It's your magical signature."

"What the hell Dolohov," Amycus growled, pulling his wand from his pocket. Antonin returned the gesture, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"I wouldn't, Carrow," Antonin stated, his voice low and intimidating. Amycus Carrow might have been a brute, but even he had enough sense to realize there was no sense in engaging in a fight he wouldn't win.

"Remove your magic, Dolohov. She's a mudblood. My mudblood." Amycus stated. Through the exchange, Luna had helped bring Hermione to her feet and the two stood in the background, watching the exchange of Hermione's fate.

"I don't believe so, Carrow. In fact, it sounds as though she's mine." Antonin smirked, eliciting a growl from Carrow as he waved his wand. Carrow was quick, but Antonin was quicker, especially with Rabastan behind him, wand drawn.

Wand still trained on Amycus, Antonin backed away until he had reached Hermione, putting a soft grip upon her elbow. "I'll be taking her with me."

"Mr. Dolohov, there are still piles of paper work to be completed," The Toad shrieked. Antonin put a steady arm around Hermione and began to guide her from the office.

"Owl me," He yelled back into the office, leaving a bewildered Dolores Umbridge, an enraged Amycus Carrow, an amused Rabastan, and a smiling Luna. Rabastan grabbed Luna's hand as they left, turning back towards Umbridge to wink, booming laughter emitting from his lips.

July 10, 1998

Hermione Granger's life had been nothing short of almost endless perdition. She should have died months prior, and yet somehow, life was cruel and allowed her to trudge on through the sludge of adversity. Harry was dead. Ron was dead. Somehow, she was alive.

Dwelling on the things she could not change did her no good, and so every thought of death, whether it be that of a loved one or the contemplation of her own was put away from her mind.

She had lived on the run for a while, though that was nothing new. She was an expert in the art of being a fugitive at this point. For the two months after the battle, she had survived alone with no sign of anyone else even alive after the battle.

Then, she found George. Or rather, George found her.

She had been camping out in a wood almost two hours from London. The day was abnormally hot, and Hermione was on the verge of losing her mind. There was a small creek near where she had set up camp, and she was positive that, with the help of a few wards, only a few minutes of just soaking in the wonderful creek would give her peace.

She left her camp swiftly, wand clutched tightly and invisibility cloak set firmly. The trickle of the water through the creek was the most glorious sound Hermione had ever heard. Before losing herself in her dazed euphoria, Hermione hastily set up strong wards around the creek.

A red fox watched her from a rock.

A giggle sounded from Hermione's lips as she threw off the invisibility cloak and promptly flopped into the creek, almost splashing all the water out. Hermione did not care, however. The moment was wonderful. The cold of the water caused goosebumps to crop up all over her body. Shivers ran down her spine, but she paid the mundane annoyances no mind.

The red fox continued to watch her.

She lay in the creek for half an hour, the water flowing lazily past her.

The fox jumped from its podium and crept suspiciously towards her, sniffing as he got closer. Hermione glanced at the creature, noting that it was missing an ear. Still laying in the creek, she frowned at the fox and promptly sat up.

Before her eyes, the fox transformed into an even more wonderful sight than the creek. George Weasley suddenly stood in front of her. She grabbed her wand, and pointed it at his chest.

"How are you feeling, Georgie?" She asked.

"Saint-like," He answered. Hermione dropped her wand and jumped into his arms, hardly believing what she saw. He held her tightly, as though she were an anchor, meant to keep his feet on the ground.

The world seemed to spin again.