antonin dolohov

[dolohovboy-blog]

wxmacnair‌:

    The Ministry, on most days, made him a bit bitter– giving his usual cold, placid edge a bit more of a stiff jaw. Being surrounded by those he deemed foolish so often ate away at him, lost in thoughts of a tirade against the vapid nature of some individuals from the department when the shoulder of another brushed forcibly by him. Walden froze, gaze darkening as his looming six foot one frame went rigid. Always composing himself eloquently, despite the irritability that currently lurked beneath the surface. His exasperation forced down, not even letting it waver in his tone once his gaze saw the familiar features of one Antonin Dolohov. 

A man he had little opinion of, but on name at least was inclined to be polite to. “Not to fret, eager to get as far away from the Ministry as possible – I imagine.” Walden gave a graceful wave of his hand to dismiss the apology, keeping Clara’s wishes in mind. As, the petite blonde had directly admitted to him that at the very least she wished for the pair of individuals to be civil. As far as he knew, there was no real reason not to be. 

if only antonin had grown up with the purebloods, instead of made to feel lesser by his own family -- could his relationships have been any different? maybe, he wouldn’t have such a burning jealous for the macnair heir. who seemed to have it all, in the eyes of the dolohov man. the money, the reputation, the seemingly-okay family, that he was quite close to clara pomfrey. of course, he wouldn’t know anything past what was shown to the public. 

he knew clara wanted him to stay civil, knew that he would probably offend her if he did anything that wasn’t deemed respectful. he couldn’t help that his smile was sharp, and his eyes were dark as he looked upon walden. “oh yes, and all those bumbling idiots.” there were only a few in the ministry that he could actually stand. “it seems to always be such a hub of irritation.” 

standing before walden, he couldn’t help the flaring of jealousy. it was there, waiting in the back of his throat to growl out some unnecessary insult -- to cause ire. how another man could earn clara’s affections so easily, how maybe walden was a better man then him, how he had everything that antonin could want. “how goes your life? i dare say we haven’t interacted much since hogwarts, but i’m sure nothing out of the ordinary could happen to you.”

[lyanna-rowle]

There had been a coldness in the torpid air that morning and almost as though the wind’s (or lack there of’s) stagnancy had been symbolic. A premonition for how the rest of her way were to play out. Days often went this way, with nothing of note happening just hours upon hours of complacency waiting for a moment to remind her why she had taken on her role in the first place. She yearned for excitement, she craved some sort of boon.

 Cerelia Greengrass sat at her desk with impeccable posture, the kind her parents had paid good money for. Her raven locks pooled on her shoulders as she scribbled somewhat madly with her quill, half enjoying the menial work, half watching the clock waiting for the clock to strike an hour where it wouldn’t look suspicious for her to duck out for the remainder of the day. As she dipped her quill once more into the inkwell on her desk she could hear footsteps approaching. There was something about the clicking of shoes on the Ministry’s marble flooring that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her forearms covered themselves in a sheet of goosebumps. It was like her body was ready for whatever or whomever it was that was approaching her. Without looking up she smiled, her lips curling into her cheeks as though she was a housecat in a morsel of sunlight. 

“Do you have an appointment?”

[dolohovboy-blog]

it was his lunch break, and with a sigh he got up from his own desk. he began to made his way to cerelia, as he had planned to enjoy his lunch break with some of her company. he had been sort of friends with her, as she was one of the girls that clara was friends with. as he came upon her desk, she didn’t even bother to glance up at him. he put his hand over his heart, and mocked a hurtful expression. 

“ah, you wound me, greengrass.” a smile spreads across his face, letting his hands now come to rest on the edge of her desk as he leans forward. “have you forgotten our little rendezvous, hmm?” she was one of the few ministry workers he could actually tolerate. rodolphus was either too busy or not in the mood to have any company during his work schedule and it wasn’t as if antonin had a plethora of friends. acquaintances, and people who he thought useful to him, sure -- but companions, they were hard to come by. it wasn’t as if he felt he needed anyone else besides clara, though. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

silentlionsroar‌:

It was frightening to see just what a matter of upbringing could do. Of course there was more too it than that. Des had once liked his dad and home. Unknowing at the time that the feeling wasn’t at all mutual. His dad didn’t like them the moment he was born. To his dad, Desmond was competition. He hadn’t wanted a child at least not one that questioned a lot and would fight him later on. A child that took away his wife’s attention, Desmond had been told at age eleven, being magic was vile.. it meant he was cold blooded his father had uttered. No, it wasn’t magic that made someone that way and as he looked up at Antonin.. saw the look in his eyes. He wondered what it would be like if things were different. Would they have been friends? They would have seen more of each other had the hat chosen slytherin. After all, it almost had.

He bit down on his tongue almost wondering if he could bite straight through it. There was no one that would hear him. The only thing he could do close to noise was whistle. It required no voice but there wasn’t any part of him that would, this was between them and even so, he wasn’t sure at the time if he could even summon one. He glanced down at the blood on his fingers.. the blood one his shirt and he knew there was some specks on his cheek. It could feel his body protesting him even trying to move but he gripped into the earth and pulled forward, fighting the urge to be sick. Looking up He glowered and settled into looking at the mark on Antonin face. It possibly wouldn’t go away.. he wondered. Well, now they both have scars. Antonin could bleed, no matter how arrogant he acted, now matter how he carried himself. He could bleed because he was human. He went again for a slash this time ankle level, he could possibly knock him down again

It wasn’t much but he saw the split second change and that enough. It didn’t matter what he did with the words, didn’t matter if he erased him or attacked him further for it, yelled.. whatever he did or in this case laugh. He saw it. He could have gone for another jab, another swing of his knife, a kick but this.. this said something. It was humanizing and for a second just a Second they were on uncharted and humanized ground. Magic outside of it. The grit in his teeth, his frown, his eyes he watched in case. Now he waited, waited for him to get closer, this was going to end.. he let his body relax.. come to an almost fake slack state but ready to spring forward. He would get home.

the blood dripped off antonin’s face, and the cut that ran across it was now starting to ache and burn. he desperately wanted a mirror to see what the damage was. he began to try to heal the slash, but was interrupted by a slash to his ankle. he stumbled, the cut on his face opening again as the spell was not completed and the pain slapped him in the face as if he was getting hit by the jinx all over again. a pained expression spread over his face, but was quickly replaced with anger. 

a deep breath escaped him as he stood up to his full height. there was a cold darkness in his eyes as they laid upon desmond. the air around them seemingly becoming suffocating and crackling with tension. antonin’s hands shook as the murderous thoughts overtook him, trying to seduce him into gruesomely killing the man. he had to withhold, though, as he wasn’t quite sure what sort of mess would stir if he killed a prevalent person from the ministry. although, he wanted to take his life so badly. he licked his lips, the blood getting into his mouth -- tasting of iron. 

with all that he had in him, he began whipping out different combative spells. anything to subdue the man, his pain and anger and bloodlust fueling him. his attacks came hard and fast, until he managed to get close and decided to aim for a punch right to desmond’s jaw. “you are a stain on this world.” he growled out, his voice echoing throughout the night. “you don’t deserve our magic. “sang de bourbe indigne et dégoûtant.” 

“it ends here, filth.” 

it was then that he used his very own curse again, the purple streak shooting out from the tip of his wand and aimed right for desmond. this time, though, there would be no hesitation. nothing would divert antonin’s mind from knocking him unconscious and ripping any memories of this night away from him. he’d gather the necessary observations from his own curse, understanding that it still needed more work. maybe, in the future, he’d have to try it out again on the pitiful punching bag. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

antonin walked down the street, hands in his pockets and a small smile plastered on his face. he was just now leaving his shift from the ministry, couldn’t wait to get home and fall into bed. he’d probably pen a letter to clara, maybe, he could invite her over for the rest of the night to whisper sweet nothings and just hold her in his arms until they both drifted off to sleep. it had become one of his favorite things. 

he hadn’t know walden that much, knew clara and him were friends but had never tried to get to know the macnair heir. there was a pit of jealousy that always festered whenever his eyes fell upon the other man. as he walked down the street, eyes narrowed at the macnair man he pretended not to notice who it was when they came upon each other. shouldering him a little too hardly and whirling around with is fake smiles and apologies. 

“ah, excusez moi.” it came out so easily, and not that he really meant it. 

@wxmacnair

[dolohovboy-blog]

silentlionsroar‌:

Desmond stares for a second in disbelief. He watched as Antonins head was knocked back and the blood started to drip down his face. He wasn’t sure it would work mainly because he was already exhausted and non verbal no matter how many years still took some energy. His eyes focused in on him noticing the moment he almost fell He nearly sprung forward but Antonin kept his footing. It wasn’t that the other kept his footing that left a knot in his stomach it was the grin on his face. It was the fact that he seemed to look almost delighted that made him feel sick to his stomach. He seemed to almost find some amusement in the matter, in his opinion. Still, the spell did hit and only proved that Antonin was as he knew just another human like him. Though, people like Antonin considered themselves somehow above the rest.

It was that laughter that emphasized the thought he had deep woven that something had indeed gone very wrong years ago. That perhaps him and Antonin had more than being human in common. It wasn’t the first time he had that thought, the wonder. Given, their interactions, it wasn’t a thought he had time to linger on. He knew what it was like to takes blows and to hear the harsh voice as they were delivered or that sinister laughter, the evenings in that crawl space till he earned his room back..still even now he couldn’t bare to be in a small space, behind that laughter Antonin gave.. a human being just like him.

His body tensed but his eyes darted back and forth trying to make some sense from his words, something about the sun and moon? Whatever other thought he had about it disappeared like it never was there when the curse fell upon him again. His body jerked and the feeling of blood pooling in his throat returned. The physical exertion just to take a breath he had to think about. A silent yell left his lips as he dug into the earth turning himself over. Move. He mentally ordered himself moving slowly forward. He couldn’t just get up. It might be what the other was expecting. He had to think carefully about his next few moves.

Again, he felt his muscles almost give out on him. The curse struck once more. His brown hues hardened into a glare once the two were level as Antonin knelt down. Whatever spell he was going to fire next.. he couldn’t no longer. He heard the snap almost felt it breaking within him and his breath left him. It was Gone. He couldn’t repair it. Wands didn’t work that way. Still, he couldn’t think about it anymore. He had to push it down. Think. Think. Dad hurt me too It was written in the sand. A risk but not all moves needed to be physical, words could effect just as strong as any spell fired. His shoulders fell his arms went slack along with the rest of him.. it was something that had worked on his parents before.. and temporarily gave them the illusion that had the upper hand, believing him to be unconscious and it gave him precious seconds to think though in his state it didn’t require much acting.

maybe, in another life antonin could have been friends with someone like desmond. they could have bonded over their tragic childhood and trauma filled lives. they could have whispered all the terrible things their father told them and remind each other that none of it was true. they could have been friends in another life. there might be a parallel universe out there where they are. but this is a different reality and nothing turns out like how it should. life is tragic here, and that’s just how it was. 

antonin watched as the boy tried to scream, but there was nothing coming from his mouth. it was comical and satisfying to see. he couldn’t stop the laughing that rumbled from his throat as his eyes laid upon his victim, silently wailing and struggling in the dirt. there was blood on both of them, bruises to pop up sometime in the hours to come and trauma for desmond that would probably take awhile to heal. that was, if he ever remembered it after antonin was done with him. he was going to do a little memory charm on the man after all this was said and done. no one would know that it was the dolohov man who had tortured him so. 

my dad hurt me too, was written before antonin. his eyes taking in the sentence and then falling back onto desmond’s face. his laughter ripped from him and his smile turning into a hard frown. he grit his teeth, getting to his feet to wipe at the words so that they would disappear. he didn’t want to think how the mudblood and him could have anything in common. he didn’t want to know anything, didn’t want to bond in any sort of way with his victim. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

pomfreyheir‌:

“I want to spend the night in your arms again.” Clara’s cheeks burned with heat as she made her confession, but it was only made a deeper shade of red as his lips danced across her skin. The tiny heart in her chest fluttered, clearly affected their proximity and the way his lips caressed her supple skin. “I don’t believe I’ve slept as well as I did that night since. No blanket nor pillow feels as wonderful as being wrapped in your arms.” And that was the beauty of it all. Clara would be content to just be with him; she was sure other physical things would be wonderful too, but his presence was more than enough.

He tugged her forward, and then Clara all but wound her body around his own as if having space between them would somehow ruin their moment. “You..You’d take me with you?” She murmured, peeking up at him to find his eyes closed. Clara knew she was important to the man, but to know that he was ready to plan for a future with her made her feel an ounce better about their relationship. “I wish we could just go now. That our place in the world wasn’t here.” Clara says gently, shaking her head as her own eyes closed. She wished they could be happy without the impended war looming over their heads.

“I don’t know if they would still like me very much.” She murmured, knowing that Cerelia, Estelle, and Priscilla might very well have words about her being spineless and weak. Walden..might be more forgiving, but he could also be disappointed with her. “No one likes a girl with too many fears.” She admitted, licking over her lips as she shrugged. “But as long as I have you, maybe I could try to forget about the rest of it.” That could be enough. As long as Antonin stayed with her, she would have someone who loved her regardless of everything else. 

Clara could feel her body calming down with every pass of his hand over her hair. Her eyes went to his own as his hand closed over his hip. She listened to him as if every word he said were the salvation she’d been looking for over the last few years. “Have you ever wanted to change who you are?” Her voice is small now as well, but Clara doesn’t see another way. The things they are speaking of are too precious to risk exposing to the rest of the world. Then she’s reaching for him again, finding one of his hands and knotting her fingers through with his own so she has a tether to him at all times. There was no such thing as being close enough to the man. “Thank you for listening without looking at me differently.” She whispers back, pressing her lips to the pulse of his neck.

antonin’s own heart fluttered at her confession. he had to lean back just to look in her eyes and noticed her blush -- which made his smile just grow a little more on his face. he would love to hold her in his arms again, to fall asleep to her face and wake up to it. “if that’s what my lady wishes.” he murmurs, leaning in to give her a kiss on her lips. he had to agree with her, though. there was nothing like sleeping with her around. “i have felt the same. it seems lonely in bed without you.” 

“of course, little bird.” a tilt to his head as his eyebrows furrow. “did you think i wouldn’t? i would hate to be part from you.” antonin couldn’t imagine being away from her. he had only just got her now and didn’t even want to let her out of his sight. it would break his heart to have to leave her or she him, to even just be farther away. “i know, i do too.” if only he could sweep her up and run away to france. it was a shame he was so caught up in the death eaters and lord voldemort’s cause. he was quite sure that if he had ditched their cause, he’d probably end up hunted down and murdered. probably clara along with him. he wasn’t about to put them both into danger.

he hummed, his hand motioning soothing circles on her waist. “i think it could be a chance to see who your real friends are.” antonin tells her, his eyes moving to stare at the blue sky. “if they don’t like you, they aren’t true friends.” antonin hadn’t grown up in the pureblood elite circles like the others had. of course, he had known them and tried to fit in but he was always a street rat in his heart. “it is okay to be scared.” he whispers, his lips going back to pressing soft kisses to her skin. “i’m always going to be here. i’ll protect you from anything.” 

her question made antonin pause with his kisses. he had to lean back now, sit up too and address this question. he wanted to be honest with her. “when i am alone at night, staring at the ceiling -- i do.” his voice is quieter, and softer as well. “sometimes, i am filled with much shame and guilt that i wish i was someone else. maybe, maybe -- someone better.” he breathes out, and his heart feels as if it will beat out of his chest. “je n'ai jamais dit à une âme que.” he holds her so tightly know, burying his face into her neck. 

[sugarsources]

[dolohovboy-blog]

do you want children one day?

vi. we went walking through backyards, asking what is in store for us.

“it’s, well–” he stumbles with his words for once, as he tries to think about a long distant future, with a family, with a home of his own. it is hard to think of, and he tries not to want something that probably won’t end up coming to fruition. was it nice to think about, having his own little ones running around with a precious wife with no cares in the world? sure. 

he shrugs his shoulders, eyes drifting off towards the floor as it brings down his mood a little. he knows that he would not deserve the things like a family, or any sort of happiness and certainly doesn’t expect it. “–would be nice, but highly doubtful i will ever have that.” his own family, he means.

then, he thinks about his own childhood and how terrible it had been. with a deadbeat mom and a father who didn’t come into the picture until much later. how he had to struggle, how he was beaten, how terrible everything had been and he worries that he wouldn’t even be a good father in the first place. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

do you worry clara will be harmed by the war or as a consequence for something you've done?

v. la belle et la bête

antonin sighs, and can’t help but nod his head. “it has crossed my mind.” of course it has. it’s something that haunts him – follows him around. he use to believe that they shouldn’t be together, and still sort of does. his life is full of danger and – and blood and brutality, and he doesn’t want her to have any part of that. yet, he can’t help but want her and to be near her. 

it worries him when he lays in his bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. when the guilt rolls in and the impending, suffocating thoughts that maybe – just maybe, he shouldn’t be doing all that he’s been doing. clara will float into his headspace, like she so often does, and he’ll fret and shake and holds his head in his hands as he tells himself that he can change. 

it makes him grit his teeth, his jaw going tense as he thinks of anything bad happening to the woman. she was an angelic presence, and it was unfathomable to think that anyone would want to bring harm to her. he’d kill anyone that even looked at her wrong. 

“i’d never let anything happen to her.” he says this so strongly, with so much emotion held behind it. he loves her, gods, he loves her so much it is frightening. “tant que je vivrai, je la garderai en sécurité.” for as long as i live, i shall keep her safe. and he would. he would fight till his last breath to make sure no hair on her head was harmed. 

ironically, much of the outside world might not be as dangerous as the man himself. clara gets protection, yet is not protected from the monster, himself. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

Three people you’d like to break?

iv. i won’t deny i’ve got in my mind now, all the things i would do. so i try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i’m imagining you.

antonin licked his lips, as if he were a hungry predator. his eyes turn a little darker, and a smirk plays on his lips. “there are many people i’d enjoy crushing.” he murmurs, pulling his wand out just to fiddle with something. the atmosphere around the room turns sour – cold and antonin taps the tip of his wand on his chin as he putters around who he’d like to break the most. 

“i suppose it would be something to see potter completely torn apart.” he says this so nonchalantly, as if it isn’t something he has dreamed about before. it may not be him that would do the potter man’s undoing, but how delicious it would be to see the aftermath. to watch james potter who was so full of ego, so full of himself, to be winded down into nothing but a sobbing and begging man. “not that i’d do it – of course.” he flashes a fake smile, as if this would somehow soothe any suspicions that he’d go out and hurt the man. 

“you know, i’ve always been fixated on those damn prewett twins.” he admits this, as if it is nothing. little does he know that years down the line he would be the one to help with their murder. “shut them up one day, wouldn’t that be nice?” antonin hums, twirling his wand in his hands. “–watching molly prewett cry about it. i don’t think i wouldn’t be able to hold my laughter.” he rambles on, his voice going quieter as he whispers to himself all the awful and evil things he’d bring upon that family. 

he continues on, though, to throw one more name out there. it’s more than three, but he doesn’t care. “mm, love to fuck up caradoc.” he sits back in his chair, eyes turned to the ceiling as all the scenes in which he’d torture the dearborn man play through his mind. to have his blood on his hands, to see the fear light up in his eyes, to hear the whimpers and pleas that tumble out of those lips. “–see his blood… begging– “ he lets out a groan, letting his hand rub over his face and trying to pull himself out of all his dark and twisted thoughts.

[yafictionquotes]

[dolohovboy-blog]

@pomfreyheir

[dolohovboy-blog]

pomfreyheir‌:

CLARA’S LASHES FLOATED up and down as she registered that he always wanted more of her. “Do you know what I want?” She questioned, a wry smile filling her lips as his nose brushed against her own. 

“Alright, but promise me you won’t go running should I frighten you with anything I reveal.” Clara toyed idly with the buttons of his shirt as she lay perched on his chest. There were many things she desperately wanted to confess to him - to have him comfort her through. She nibbled on her lower lip, reddening the otherwise pink flesh as she sighed. Honey-hued waves floated around her cheeks as she lifted her head enough to find the warmth of his gaze. “I don’t very much like who I am.” Clara whispered, eyes dropping back to his chest as she fumbled over her feelings about it all.

Clara’s fingers freed the button loose, opening more of his skin to her view, and she decided to focus on that rather than his face as she spoke. “I mean, the girl who the public wants me to be…she’s perfect. She doesn’t have doubts or fears. She handles the weight of the world with grace. And the whispers of war? They aren’t supposed to terrify her.” Clara said, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she swallowed the thick lump in her throat as she gazed at Antonin. “I can pretend to be that girl, but I don’t know that I am her. I’m afraid all of the time that I’ll disappoint someone- the war petrifies me. What if somethings happens to me? Or to you? You…You are the only one that makes me feel safe.” Sniffling softly, Clara brought a hand up to wipe the wetness from her oceanic hues.

“I just - We just found each other. I can’t-” Panic bubbled in the blonde’s chest as she tried to get closer to him, seeking comfort as her emotions got the better of her.

antonin truly felt happy in this moment, so close with clara and somehow it was all peaceful. yet, there was also and underlying heat that threatened to burn him up. “hmm?” he whispered, pressing chaste kisses to her cheek, her nose, her forehead. as he pulled a little away, he could only smile -- smile, smile, and smile. it was so new to him, this feeling of smiling for too long. 

there was no way that antonin was going to tuck tail and run now. not that he had any intention in the first place. he had been the one to woo after her, all this time -- he was pretty committed to her and all that she was. “je suis lié à vous. je ne pouvais pas courir même si je le voulais.” he murmurs so sweetly to her, the absolute truth. as she whispered her confessions, he opened his mouth to say just how much he thought she was amazing and beautiful, but he closed his mouth so as she could keep going. 

as he listened to her speak, he wanted to hold her oh, so much tighter. his arms around here pulled her close to his body and he let his forehead rest against hers. closing his eyes, and took a deep breath. “clara, clara--” he coos, freeing one hand from her waist to stroke her hair. “if anything dire were to happen, i’ll sweep you away and we’ll fly off to france.” he says this, although, he is sure if he were to up and ditch voldemort -- the death eaters would probably hunt him down. he knew way too much to just be left alone. 

still, he wanted to comfort her. to protect her from everything and everyone. wished that life could be easier -- simply. but it was complicated and messy and things didn’t always turn out how you wished them to be. “i think it’s all normal.” he tells her, opening his eyes to stare into her own. “you shouldn’t have to pretend. people -- i think, everyone would understand your qualms.” 

he lets his hand flow through her blonde locks, his hand soon going back to resting on her waist. he gives her hip a little squeeze, and a soft expression overcomes his face. “we can always change.” he tells her. “figure out who our true selves are -- we can change.” antonin’s voice is so soft, he almost doesn’t recognize it. he wants to believe the words he speaks. how is it that this little lady evokes such a tenderness from him? he’d do anything for her. “thank you for telling me.” he gives her another little kiss on her cheek, holding her so close to him -- wishing that they could just melt into one another. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

do you have any real trust in your fellow Death Eaters?

iii. i’m a mess, i don’t know how to impress anyone.

in truth, antonin does not trust many people in his life. his mother, clara pomfrey, and maybe, alecto carrow. other than that, he can’t help but be paranoid with others. to suspect them and for them to suspect him – too. of what? maybe the guilt he feels when he’s alone, the turmoil of whether he wants to stay to fight this fight or trance off to france. to bury his head in books and go after something that truly interests him. 

shaking his head, he frowns. “how silly it is that we all form these groups – only for us to be distrustful of each other.” a bemused expression falls onto his face. “comment on continue comme ça?” how do we go on like this? sometimes, he even wonders if they would be able to win with how their side is oftentimes has issues with one another. 

“the few people i do trust i can count on one hand.” he starts counting them off on one hand. “my own mother, my lovely clara, rodolphus, and that carrow woman.” 

[dolohovboy-blog]

If you had to date another girl besides Clara, who would you choose?

ii. parce que je te donnerais toutes les années de ma vie

antonin seems affronted by the question, a scoff coming from him as he shakes his head. “elle est la seule.” she is the only one. he says it so sincere, so obviously in love with the woman and with eyes that sparkle for her. “why would i think of such things with her right in front of me?” antonin shakes his head. 

there was no one else, besides the pomfrey woman. she was what he had been pining for – for years. his heart beating only for her, basically melting with the attention she would spare for him. the poor boy from the rough side of life – the beast, and she could calm the storm with just that soft smile of hers. 

“she is… she is it.” he says it rather slowly, a softness overtaking his face. the only woman to bring such a tenderness out of him. with his little smiles and heart aflutter, it was all real. “i couldn’t.” antonin says this with such conviction. 

“je suis im dans cette vie et la suivante. mon coeur est le sien. si je ne l'aurai pas – alors je n'aurai personne.” i’m hers in this life and the next. my heart is hers. if i shall not have her – then i shall have no one.

[dolohovboy-blog]

Do you regret anything you’ve done?

i.  how will you exist? (how will i exist) i don’t want to know.

“hmm,” he hums, tapping his finger on the table as he delves back into his memories. there is much that antonin has done through his life, much pain and torment that he has spread. guilt that creeps in when he finds himself alone. “it’s such a heavy question.” he says, eyes glancing off as he is faced with his own brutality and quite sickening ways. oh, how he tries to hide it. 

antonin remembers the look on his mother’s face – one of pure shock and horror as he stood over some street kid in a dirty alleyway. how he had been so close to inflicting terrible misery onto the poor boy. a pocket knife stuck in his hand, it shakes as he finds the gaze of his mother who looks at him like he’s never seen before. the woman who use to stare at him with stars in her eyes, with something like reverence and the sun all turned to ash in a mere accidental incident. 

he would have tortured that kid, with no mercy in his bones – he would have brutalized the boy unrecognizable. his mother, with all her faults and flaws and her fuck ups – still, with that gentle mercy glued to her bones which was something he never got to inherit. instead, it’s the dolohov blood raging in him, that she sees it in his eyes. the cruelty and the darkness that threatens to drown her only son – her only boy, and she falls to her knees and weeps hysterics for the son she will ultimately lose and for what she has brought to the world. 

“out of everything?” he sighs, leaning back in his chair and his face grows a little colder – a little haunted. “il n'y a qu'un seul.” there is only one. antonin whispers in his native tongue, it feels like safety with it – as if he can whisper secrets untold and no one will quite understand. “à ma mère qui je souhaite toujours me regardait comme si j'étais divin.” to my mother who i wish still looked at me like i was divine. 

[dolohovboy-blog]

Honesty Hour

come on, hit me.

[dolohovboy-blog]

pomfreyheir‌:

CLARA GIGGLED SOFTLY. “Good. I was aiming to please.” Clara whispered as she ran her thumb over his lips. She wasn’t able to find enough of Antonin to satisfy her. She’d been withholding herself from him for so long that she felt that they had years of soft kisses and closeness to catch up on. He urged her closer, and Clara dipped her head that last few inches to connect their lips again. Fingers sifted through his curls, tugging him closer and closer with every moment that slipped away.

Eventually, Clara’s cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming in short bursts between kisses. Her heart pounded against her chest, but nothing, even oxygen, seemed a worthy enough reason to pull away. Gently, her hands fell to his shoulders, carefully pushing so he’d ease back into the grass. “-How are we ever going to stop this?” She teased, pecking his lips as she laid her head down against his chest.

it had been so long that he had wanted for her, wished for her and it was all blissful now. it was a happiness that he wasn’t use too, such a foreign thing to a man who had a childhood of trauma and such unwantedness. did he deserve to have something so soft now? did he know how to be gentle enough in the long run so as to never cut her on his sharp edges? 

antonin tried to convince himself that yes, he should have something soft in his life -- if just this once. 

as they pulled away, he couldn’t help to think of how lovely she was. her cheeks tinged with pink, her breathing uneven. he had this affect on her and it was something to behold to him. antonin let her push him to the grass, where he relaxed and whispered, “i don’t know. i always want more of you.” he brushed his nose against hers, such an innocent gesture but one that made his face soften and his smile even softer. 

“i want to know more about you.” he tells her, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. it was so sincere, something he truly wanted. antonin wanted to know her inside and out. everything that made her giggle with happiness, everything that frustrated her -- everything that brought tears to her eyes. he wanted to know her, more than he already did. wanted in on all the secrets she had kept hidden, wanted to know the intricacies of her heart -- wanted to peer inside and truly know her.