Description: This is my own submission for the Dolohoes Hanukkah Fest over on Facebook. 8 chapters – 8 stories – All Dolohov!
Characters: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsAntonin Dolohov/Bellatrix Black Lestrange Antonin Dolohov/Hermione GrangerAntonin Dolohov Hermione Granger Luna Lovegood Bellatrix Black Lestrange Corban Yaxley Thorfinn RowleEight Crazy One Shots Hanukkah Fest Fanart
This is my own submission for the Dolohoes Hanukkah Fest over on Facebook. 8 chapters – 8 stories – All Dolohov! Prompts:Ch 1: Winter — Antonin x Bellatrix drabbleCh 2: Laughter — Antonin x Hermione photomanipCh 3: Melody — Antonin x Hermione drabbleCh 4: Crackling — Antonin x Bellatrix drabbleCh 5: Expectation — Antonin x Hermione drabbleCh 6: ReunionCh 7: BreathCh 8: Heaven,Summary:
Winters in England are absolute trash, and Antonin craves nothing more than to burn the whole trash country to the ground and go back to Moscow. Okay, maybe he wants Bellatrix Black a little more than he wants to commit grand-scale arson, but he’s pretty confident she’d be down to help him with the vandalism.
In response to a prompt by
LumosLyra in the Eight_Crazy_One_Shots_Dolohoes_Hanukkah_Fest
Will update pairings and tags as I go along! Enjoy!,Notes:
Antonin x Bellatrix pairing, rated M for language & diet spice.CW: Use of a certain 3 letter word that is a slur in America but a synonym for cigarette in the UK. There’s only so many alternate ways to say “cigarette”, and though my works aren’t fully Brit-picked, I do try my best.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.),Notes:
Translate: Krasotka: Gorgeous; used as a term of endearment, not an adjectiveBlyat: the colloquial equivalent to “fuck” in EnglishA huge thank you to everyone participating in the Eight Crazy One Shots Hanukkah Fest! I hope you enjoy my contribution to my own fest lol. If you wandered onto this fic by sheer random happenstance and have no idea what I’m talking about – I co-admin a Dolohov fangroup on Facebook with the lovely HweatWeGardena & ArdentlyAdmired called “Dolohoes: Antonin Dolohov Supremacy”; currently we are putting on a Hanukkah fest. For each day of Hanukkah, we have a new daily challenge to complete a one-shot in under 5k words. If you’re interested in learning more or joining our group, feel free to look us up on Facebook. You will need to be sure to answer all of the questions AND select the box to indicate that you have read and agree to follow the group rules; if one of the questions is not answered, or the box is not selected, one of our admins will reach out to you via messenger to ask you to resubmit your request. It is an 18+ group so we need to make sure everyone agrees to uphold the rules. Thank you again for giving this a chance, and for all the love and support! You’re all wonderful, and I hope you all have a very Happy Hanukkah! <3
Chapter 1: Winter
The embers burned his throat, and he felt his lungs fill with the thick smoke. That deep burn within his chest warmed him from the inside out. He held the smoke for a moment, just enough to savor the sensation, before exhaling the toxic cloud tinged with the faint scent of cloves. The flavor stayed heavy on his tongue.?The frigid slush that fell down on him, not quite frozen enough to be considered sleet, stung his cheeks with each icy drop. He made a deep hacking ¡°bah!¡± sound in the back of his throat, fast and irate. He fucking hated weather like this.?Antonin brought his cigarette back to his lips, taking another deep drag as he waited outside the muggle deli he found himself loitering in front of. With his hand not holding fag, he popped the collar of his woolen coat, blocking his neck from the damp frost he found himself in. He should have worn a fucking scarf.?He shoved his spare hand back into the heat of his pockets, less because of the cold, and more because of his attempt to appear unapproachable rather than chilled .?Ever since his father had moved them to London when he was just 10 years old, Antonin had hated late autumn in the UK. Back home, they didn¡¯t have this bullshit frozen-rain fuckery that Britain seemed to produce for months on end. In Russia, it went from chilled late-summer winds to snow to blizzards, the way weather is supposed to work. He didn¡¯t have to spell his shoes against snow and rain. Blyat.?Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of muggles, young women huddled together at one of the deli¡¯s outdoor tables, laughing and giggling, growing progressively louder. They kept looking his direction, and he kept pointedly ignoring them. Fucking shameless bints.?One of them got up, he¡¯d have to give her points for bravery, and attempted to saunter his direction. Ridiculous.?¡°Got a light?¡± The muggle – American he had to guess, by both the accent and the audacity of the chit? – held up her own menthol; Antonin knew she planned to finish the damned thing in his presence if he offered his lighter. He looked down on her, and she was pretty, he¡¯d give her that much credit, despite what she was. All honey-blonde curls tucked under a blue and grey knit cap, small curves displayed well with her synched pea coat and suede gloves. Even the heeled boots she wore gave her legs the illusion of length despite her still barely coming up to his chin. Antonin scoffed and turned away from her.?¡°No.¡±He turned back to his own smoke, taking another drag. The muggle let out a disbelieving laugh as he blew out the smoke.?¡°Seriously? I saw you light that with your Zippo.¡± He didn¡¯t look at her, but Antonin was sure she was scowling. He took another hit before responding as he exhaled.?¡°I don¡¯t feel like entertaining you. Go back to your table.¡±There was a beat of silence, and Antonin knew she wasn¡¯t about to drop it.?¡°Excuse me? What the hell is your problem?¡±He shrugged, unconcerned.?¡°I¡¯m waiting on someone, and you¡¯re bothering me. Run along.¡±?¡°Are you kidding me? You¡¯ve been standing here alone for almost a half an hour; you don¡¯t really expect me to believe – ¡°¡°Why are you harassing my things?¡±?Antonin turned towards the new voice – smooth and sultry, like an old jazz singer – and felt the world increase in temperature as he absorbed all he could of his woman.?Slender legs, mid-thigh velvet dress, and black stilettos as far as the eye could see. Her trench coat open, billowing as she glided over to them. Hair black as midnight fluttering in wild, silken coils flowing around her like a river or eternity. Her lips painted the color of blood. Her ice-grey eyes glowing behind her thick lashes. Fuck – he¡¯d never get tired of seeing her.?Bellatrix approached like she had no care in the world, walking past the muggle tourist and plucking the clove cigarette out of Antonin¡¯s hand, and even though he wore gloves, he swore he could feel her manicured hands sear his skin beneath them as she lingered. She took her own deep drag, handing the now lipstick stained fag back to him as she exhaled.?Antonin felt his eyes lock with her, enraptured and unwilling to break this connection, this electric fire burning between them, as he took one final drag before dropping the butt and crushing it between the toe of his boots. Bellatrix, all half-lidded eyes and devilish grins, placed both her hands on his chest.?She took her time, sliding both hands along his pectorals and around his neck, following their trail by pressing her body tightly against his as she continued. She laced her hands into his hair at the base of his skull, tugging just slightly as she took hold.?Antonin gripped the flare of her hips in both hands, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to trap her in his grasp as he leaned down to shorten their height difference. When their mouths close enough to share breath, Bella¡¯s voice softened.?¡°Hello my love.¡±?Antonin¡¯s own voice lowered as a slow smirk spread across his face.?¡°You¡¯re a vision as always, Krasotka. What took you so long?¡±?By the flash in her eyes and the almost invisible drop in her smile, Antonin knew this was going to lead to an actual discussion; rather than hashing out whatever problem Bella is having in front of the muggle interloper, he bridged the minute gap between them to capture her lips in deep yet far too brief kiss.?And fuck if she wasn¡¯t the most delicious thing he¡¯d ever tasted.?They pulled away from each other, and Antonin dropped one last lingering kiss to the crown of Bellatrix¡¯s head before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and turning them in the direct opposite direction of the shameless American; they started on the brief walk to the park by his house.?As Bellatrix started to tell him about her father and his stubborn insistence towards the idea of her marrying the Lestrange heir – an ongoing argument between the two that caused her to be late for their tryst today – Antonin savored the feel of her arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He relished in the feel of her warmth and softness pressed against him and the softness of her curls as they brushed against the frozen skin of his neck and face.?He couldn¡¯t help thinking that these shitty British winters were worth it if it meant he could continue possessing this vicious, vivacious vixen of a witch.?But he still thinks she¡¯d appreciate winters in Moscow far better anyway.