Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Written for Hogwarts Assignment 11 - Notable Witches and Wizards, Task 11 - A dark witch or wizard having a relationship with a Muggle.

Word Count - 2221

Beta'd by the lovely Gus-Gus

Inferior (But I Love You Anyway)

He was in his element. Fires raged around them as they marched, lives taken with a swish of their wands, high laughter echoing behind silver masks. Antonin walked alongside his brothers and sisters in arms, his wand gripped in his hand, a smile on his face as he looked at the carnage they'd created.

"Split up," came a voice from the front of the pack. "Slaughter them all."

Antonin darted off to the left, binding one man as he passed, leaving him to the mercy of Bellatrix. In front of him was a small building, and he didn't understand but something told him he had to go inside.

Sliding through the front door, at first he thought the room was empty, but a whimper alerted him that someone was hiding. Blasting furniture out of the way, it didn't take him long to find a brunette woman cowering behind a desk.

He held his wand steady on her, but then she looked up.

The connection was immediate.

"Fuck it all to hell," he muttered, gripping the woman harshly by the arm and Apparating away to his house. Throwing her into the living room, he warded the place so she couldn't leave and Apparated straight back where he'd come from, hoping to Merlin that nobody had heard the cracks.

He already knew he'd made the wrong decision, but he also knew that he'd had no real choice.

Soulmates were supposed to be rare. Soulmates being Muggles was supposed to be a myth.

Cursing in his mind, he left the building, setting in on fire for good measure. He took his anger and frustration out on the village, until they were called back to formation.

They Apparated away as one, landing in their places around the awaiting Dark Lord.

He walked around them, each one bowing as he paused in front of them. Antonin bowed low, hoping that the Dark Lord wouldn't know what had happened. He knew that their leader would see it as a betrayal for Antonin to have saved his soulmate - a Muggle - over following orders and slaughtering them all.

"Report," the Dark Lord hissed, once he'd rounded the circle and returned to his original place.

"The village is decimated, My Lord. We slaughtered them all and destroyed every structure in the area. Dolohov and Bellatrix were both rather inspired, My Lord."

The Dark Lord nodded, looking thoughtful. "Very good, my loyal followers. You may all leave me… except you, Dolohov."

Sweating behind his mask, Antonin waited behind, feeling the commiserating pats on his back from three of his fellow Death Eaters as they passed.

When they were alone, Antonin was called forward. He fell to his knees before the Dark Lord, keeping his head down.

"You've made me proud, these last months, Antonin," the Dark Lord said. "You're working your way through my ranks very quickly, and that pleases me."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"I wish to move your placing. Three down, between Rodolphus and Avery, if you please. I expect you to be there the next time I call for you."

"Yes, My Lord. Thank you, Mr Lord."

"You may go."

Antonin kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes and stood, walking away with as much restraint as he could. He didn't know what to make of the conversation, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

He Apparated home, taking a deep breath before he opened the door to the living room.

The woman was curled up in the far corner of the room, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees.

"Stand up," Antonin demanded.

She looked up, eyes wide with fear and red-rimmed from the tears she'd cried in his absence. Scrambling to her feet, she kept her head down as he approached her. He lifted her chin with one finger.

"What is your name?" She didn't reply, and he gripped her jaw. "Your name?"

"Annabelle," she whispered.

He nodded. "Very well. Come with me."

He led her from the living room and up the stairs into one of the many spare rooms in his vast home.

"This will be your room. Food and drinks will be brought to you three times a day, and there's a connecting bathroom. If you require anything, leave a note on the desk at night."

"Why won't you just let me go home?" she sobbed, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

He pushed her into the room. "This is your home now. Get used to it."

Closing the door, he locked it firmly and walked down the hallway to his own room. Once there, his demeanor changed and he sat down on the bed, resting his head in his hands.

His soulmate. A Muggle.

What a mess.

…

For weeks, Antonin ignored the occasional bang or scream from the room. For the most part, the Muggle was quiet, and his house elves reported that she hadn't requested anything beyond the food and drink he was already providing.

She cried a lot, they said.

He managed to ignore his curiosity for the most part. He pushed aside the burning desire to go to her, to find out what it was about her that made her his perfect match.

He refused to contemplate that their might be a reason that he'd found her when he had, when she was minutes at most away from death. If not by his wand that certainly another.

And yet…

He wanted.

He wanted to speak to her.

He wanted to look at her.

He wanted to know if her flesh was as soft as it looked.

He wanted to know if she tasted as decadent as she smelled.

He wanted to know if she bled the same red as he, even though she was a Muggle.

Shaking the thoughts away, he poured himself a firewhisky. He was debating on a second when his head elf arrived in the room, wringing its hands - a sure way to know it was in distress.

"What is it?" Antonin asked tiredly.

"The woman, master. The woman, in the water."

Antonin was on the stairs before he'd even fully contemplated moving, racing for Annabelle's room.

He found her under the water in the bath, and pulled her out quickly, laying her on bathroom floor. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he cast three spells in quick succession, one to expel the water from her lungs, one to push air into her, and then enervate.

She blinked her eyes open, coughing.

When she realised that her plan hadn't worked, tears once again streamed from her eyes. "Why?" she sobbed. "Why couldn't you just let me die."

"I can't," he grumbled. "You're my soulmate."

She stared at him. "What?"

He picked her up off the floor, his hands gentle. Her skin really was as soft as it looked. He carried her to the bedroom and set her on the bed, before he crossed to the dresser his elves had stocked and pulled out a night dress for her to put on.

Sitting down on the chair by the desk, he said, "Clearly you've realised that I can do magic. Wizards have soulmates. Usually other magical beings, but apparently not always. That's why I can't let you die."

She pulled the nightdress over her head, her movements slow and weak.

"You… but you… you haven't… I haven't see you once since you brought me here."

Antonin frowned. "I don't need to see you to know you're here," he replied.

"I can't live like this," she whispered. "With no human contact. It's lonely. I don't want it. If this is the life on offer, I would rather be dead."

"I can't let you do that. I'll… leave you to sleep. Please don't make me cast more spells on the room to ensure your safety."

He left her there, the sounds of her muffled cries echoing in his ears.

He ignored the ache in his chest.

…

The next time, she tried to hang herself and he cast the spells to stop her from causing herself harm.

He sent the elves to find her some Muggle books, from where he had no idea, but they managed to find them.

He thought to ask her what she enjoyed doing, but the thought of more conversation with her made him uncomfortable.

The pull in his chest to her had been stronger since the second time she'd attempted to take her life, and eventually, he'd had no choice but to go to her.

He sat at the desk again in silence, ignoring her questions in favour of staring at her, taking in every inch of skin she had on show.

That started a new pattern of behaviour, and a few times a week, he began sitting with her in the evenings, never speaking to her, simply looking.

And then, he slipped up on a raid. A woman looked exactly like Annabelle, the same pale skin, exactly the same shade of hair, and he hesitated in killing her.

The Dark Lord's punishment left him twitching hours later when he finally made it home. He went to Annabelle's room without thinking, collapsing into the chair.

She startled awake at his entrance, staring at him in horror as his body twitched and he winced in pain.

"What… what happened to you?"

He shook his head, reaching out for the vial in his house elf's hand as soon as he popped into the room. Pulling the cork out with difficulty, he drank the contents in one, signing in relief as the pain lowered substantially.

"Are you… okay?"

He nodded, meeting her eyes. "Fine," he grunted. Then, after a moment, he added, "Thank you."

She nodded cautiously.

"How are your books?" he asked, after another minute passed by in awkward silence. He gestured to the small pile on the bedside table.

She swallowed. "I… like them. Thank you for having the brought for me."

He nodded, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "If there's other things you enjoy doing… you should write it down. I'll make sure you get whatever it is."

She hesitated for a moment before she sat up properly in the bed, swinging her legs around over the edge.

"What's your name?"

"Antonin."

She nodded. "You have a nasty cut… over your eye. I could… I could fix it, maybe?"

He blinked. "You don't have magic."

She huffed. "No. But I have hands. If you have a first aid kit…"

"Erm. No," he replied, not having the first clue what she was talking about. "But… thank you for wanting to."

She rolled her eyes. "I can tell you've been trying, you know. To keep me company, I mean. I… I do appreciate that."

He nodded. "I should. Erm. Go."

She sighed and he wondered if he was imagining the sadness in her eyes. He left the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

…

"I'd like some knitting things, if I may," she said to him on his next visit. "And some colouring books and pens."

He nodded, handing her a piece of parchment and a quill. She looked at him like he was insane but duly dipped the nib of the quill into the ink and wrote her requests on the parchment.

When he accepted the parchment back, he noticed there was an additional request.

Cadbury's chocolate.

He felt his lips tilting it up in a smile. "I don't have… Cadbury, but I have chocolate in the house if you'd like some."

She nodded eagerly, and with a simple request to his elf, he was supplied with a large bar of Honeydukes best.

He handed it over to her, and she bit into the corner, her eyes widening.

"That's amazing," she gasped.

He smirked at her. He knew wizards were the superior race, but it didn't hurt to hear it.

"I'll have the other things found for you as soon as possible," he offered, standing up. "Enjoy the chocolate."

She smiled at him.

It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

…

He was in trouble.

He knew he was in trouble because the Auror's were so close to breaking through his wards and he didn't know what to do. Racing up to Annabelle's room, he pushed the door open with a bang, calling for his house elf.

"You need to leave," he gasped at Annabelle. "Jaspar will take you wherever you tell him, but you can't tell anyone about wizards or magic or anything else. Promise me!"

"I promise," Annabelle replied shakily, standing up. "Antonin, whats -"

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers hard.

"If I can, I'll come and find you," he whispered when they parted. "Stay safe."

"Is there another way?" she whispered.

"I wish there was another way… You need to leave. Jaspar, keep her safe."

"Yes, Master."

As they disappeared, the Auror's broke the wards.

He didn't have time to run now.

But at least Annabelle was safe.

…

Azkaban had destroyed him. But, when he called Jaspar, his elf came to him immediately.

"Annabelle?" he'd asked.

The soft shake of Jaspar's head had been all the answer he needed. Because being separated from his soulmate had been excruciating for him, but his magic was enough to shelter him.

He'd always known that Annabelle didn't have that.

Also Written for;

The Brand's War - Silver Surfer - Betrayal / Decision / Wrong / "I wish there was another way." / Silver

Showtime - 3 - "Is there another way?"

Insane house - 20. Antonin Dolohov