A/N: Thank you for the continued support and review!

It was a little past four in the early dawn hours when Dolohov arrived at a fishing village, Davenport. He would have apparated instead of taking the trains and carriages, but it would have gone against his doctor's advice – one of the generational medi-wizards of their time. Dolohov looked up to the dark sky and blew a sigh. He had no problems at all going against Lord Durness, the Violet-Eyed Jester, the Mad Alchemist, the Death Eater or even fighting the Flame Wizard but fighting the doctor was just suicide. At this moment when he was dependent on Yaxley's knowledge to heal him, it would be in his best interest to be an obedient patient lest he destroyed his own body.

Dolohov adjusted his coat and patted his arms and torso. In the time he had been asleep and dead to the world, his best friend had gone to retrieve his weapons. It should not have been a simple mission and no doubt, Yaxley would have cursed him but… he was thankful.

He had secured all his weapons onto his body and had been ready to leave Yaxley's Hall only for the little elf to stop him. She had fussed over him and groomed him thoroughly: stripped him down completely, washed and scrubbed every inch of his body, and washed his long, grime-filled, disgusting hair, and then proceeded to dry and cut it, and shaved and his overgrown beard. He had been expecting his head to be in patches from hair loss or whatever hair disease he contracted in Azkaban but Potsie – obviously had been learning from her master – had somehow salvaged a good, refreshing look for him. He had resembled more like his former self, and away from the unkempt and dirty Gandalf look.

Dolohov had no doubts that if Yaxley had not chosen to be a Death Eater and instead stayed on the path of Alchemy and Medicine, he would have probably spearheaded the theory and possibly the surgery for Facial and Anatomy Reconstruction like what those muggles did. He would not even be surprised if Yaxley would have discovered ways to clone the dead; but that knowledge would have made him a target for every organization in the world. And what would follow that would have been a tragedy – he was absolutely certain that the Dark Lord would have ordered him to get Yaxley on their side or removed the threat by any means necessary… Would he have killed his best friend?

Dolohov squeezed his eyes and growled, as he clamped a hand tightly over the dark mark. It was useless to think of an alternate future when it was impossible, and bordering on foolish, to think he could undo all the things that had happened. Needless to say, apologies would not fix what had happened and he would never blame his younger self for the decisions he had made. It was not pride nor arrogance that sealed his mouth shut but it was the refusal to regret and spit on the lives and sacrifices, and the pain suffered by those involved. He might be a Death Eater with a merciless streak but he was not without honor. He owed to them who suffered the consequences of his decisions to continue his path with his head held up. He could only try to make amends and fix what he could, and he swore he would not apologize for whatever was beyond his abilities.

Dolohov took a deep shuddering breath. As he expelled the air slowly, he reopened his eyes. He was no longer in Azkaban. He no longer had the luxury of time to slowly reflect on his life and decisions. He was a soldier who had returned to the war, and short of waiting for the King's Order, he had to pave the way for His Majesty's return. Patting his dark mark once, he waited for his heart to steady its beat before he finally continued his journey into Davenport with a clear mind.

Dolohov walked through the silent town. A lot of the shops had shuttered and been closed for a long time. Davenport used to be a bustling village, and its port was always full of all sizes of vessels. It used to be center of trades and where innocent commoners, and Aurors from the Ministry would mingle with the unsavory types that included thugs, pirates, and even assassins. Davenport was a special town that was governed by its own laws – there would be no fights, no crimes and no arrest, no prejudice and no suspicion. Of course, this meant the town was only safe when it was daylight hours. Under the cover of the darkness, everything could be done and there would be no revolt and no investigation. However, things changed drastically when the Dark Lord turned his interest to the town and deployed the Execution Squad. In broad daylight, the squad turned the safe town into a horror show of blood and death. In a matter of a few hours, the Dark Lord's soldiers turned the business town into a ghost town. Since then, Davenport became a part of history and a living museum of what could have been.

Finally, Dolohov reached the end of a road and stared at the half-broken hanging sign. Matteus' Inn. Pushing the swinging doors, he walked into the dusty pub and calmly made his way to the bartender while electing to ignore all the patrons. He slipped a galleon coin forward, and placed his hands on the table. He leaned forward and asked loud enough for his voice to carry through the bar, "Do you have Alexander?"

The bartender looked at him and then to the shiny gold coin. He smiled a crooked smile, and placed different bottles on the table. As he was concocting the drink, a hand land around Dolohov's shoulders before the Galleon was swiped away. Grey eyes looked at the thick scarred hand before it trailed upwards to look at a burly-sized man who had slipped onto the seat beside him. "You won't find Alexander here," he gruffly informed as he pulled Dolohov closer to him, "follow me."

Dolohov nodded mutely as he pushed against the table and got off his seat. He followed the short man towards the exit when suddenly, they were separated by the other patrons. As they cautiously surrounded him, they trained their wands at him threateningly. Slowly, the rotund man turned around and his lips were pulled into a greedy grin. "Hand over your money, cocksucker!" he demanded as he opened his palm as if expecting a bag of coins. This made the entire shop explode in raucous chortles.

When Dolohov continued standing in his spot with a blank look, the chortles gradually softened into awkward, uncomfortable laughter even though the greedy wizard continued to hustle and threaten. Irritated at the deadpanned expression, the wizard pulled out his own wand, roared a spell and everyone watched the curse whizzed past its target. Dolohov had simply bent forward to tie his laces before he looked up curiously at the wizard as if to ask if that was his best. Furious and agitated and unwilling to look bad in front of his followers, the greedy wizard attempted a dark spell he had only heard of but never used. "Avada Kedavra!"

The tip of his wand glowed a bright green light, before the light spluttered out lamely and fizzled into nothingness before it could even fly half a foot. Dolohov stared at the wizard who began to visibly panic, as he tried to cast the unforgivable repeatedly without any success. Feeling the strain of his weak body, Dolohov knew it was time to wrap things up. It would look ridiculous if he collapsed now, and surrounded by fodders who would have been nothing more than playthings for his younger self.

Dolohov took a threatening step forward, and the crowd took an awkward step back. "Attempting to use an advanced dark curse on me?" he asked as he shook his head and slowly raised his wand to point at the greedy wizard, "It takes a high level of stupidity and courage to try that on me. However, you're not fit to die by my wand…"

As he trailed off, he kept his wand in his coat and withdrew a black-bladed dagger. "Perhaps, I shall show you a more effective way to kill than the feeble attempt you tried." He shot the dagger forward and watched it sliced the air swiftly, and very easily dived through the greedy wizard's head before it escaped and embedded itself vertically into the floorboards, between the wizard's legs. Very slowly, the burly wizard was split cleanly and symmetrically in half, and both halves fell away from each other.

Startled gasps and muffled screams haunted the pub as the other patrons stared at him in fear. Their bodies stood rooted in fear as some recognized him and they whispered his name hoarsely, "The Executioner. He's the Dark Lord's scythe!" Some frantically tried to flee as they knocked over the tables and chairs but Dolohov in an almost regretful voice apologized that none of them was granted mercy, and they had to die for their crime – opposing The Executioner. In the frenzied chaos where everyone was casting spells against the Death Eater, he simply threw out two more enchanted daggers and watched them dismember and kill.

As the blades went about their job swiftly, Dolohov pulled out the jammed dagger and shot it into the air to join its peers. Then, he settled himself comfortably into a seat and rested his head on one of his hands as he waited for the show to end. Blood splattered the walls and pillars and even onto his clothes, as helpless cries of agony and fear filled the rusty pub. As the final few bodies fell, the weapons spun in the air before they flew towards Dolohov and jammed themselves upright on the table. Sighing tiredly, he pulled them out one by one. He cleaned them thoroughly on his jacket before he slipped them back onto his belt.

Dolohov was about to reach out for the last dagger's hilt when he noticed a hand with long red fingernails had already wrapped around it. Dolohov withdrew his hand and raised his head to look at the woman calmly. "Alexander," he spoke softly as he fixed his grey eyes on her beautiful blue eyes, "that's a nice new codename but I still prefer your real name."

She tucked a stray of glossy sable-black hair behind her ear with her free hand as her red-painted lips curled into a seductive smile. One of her pencil-thin eyebrows arched a little as her azure eyes that lit with reckless playfulness gazed sultrily at him. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward until her nose was barely a hair's breadth away from nuzzling his as her tongue peeked from between her parted lips to lick her lips. "Antonin," she whispered sensually as she ran her index finger lightly on the hem of her strapless dress before deliberately running it down the valley between her breasts, "I've missed you. Eight years is too long, my darling."

Dolohov dragged his eyes away from her hands to her eyes. He stared coldly before he wrapped a hand around her hand that was still holding onto the dagger's hilt. "I don't have time to play games," he warned softly as his grip tightened on her hand.

Her luscious lips pouted before she quickly swung herself around until she sat on the table perpendicular to him. Crossing her legs at the knees, she looked at him from the corner of her eyes as she rested her free hand on her knee. Spreading that hand open, she slowly dragged it until it was touching the hem of her dress. Leaning as far back as she could without hurting her other hand, she made sure her tight dress was riding up her thighs and her cleavage was in front of him. "Antonin, you're so cruel," she whined at the man whose eyes barely glanced at her little playful touches, "but… I still love you."

"Allison," Dolohov warned, and there was a steel under his tone.

"I love to play, darling. Have you forgotten?" she interrupted as she licked her lips as she looked hungrily at the face of the cold, untouchable man. "You want my information just as much as I want you, so play with me, darling. One game, just one game, Antonin."

Dolohov kept quiet for a long time while his eyes remained unreadable. "Fine," he finally and reluctantly agreed as he released his grip on her hand and ignored the victorious Cheshire grin that spread over her face. Pocketing his dagger, he had barely stood up from his seat when she wrapped her arms around one of his without invitation. Giggling, she pulled him towards a rundown house. Once they were there, she invited him to sit in the living room while she hurried into the small adjourning kitchen.

A moment passed when she returned to his side with two cups of coffee for him before she sat opposite him. "Which will you drink, darling?" she asked as she smiled charmingly.

Dolohov looked at her and sighed audibly. He picked one of them, breathed in the overpowering aroma deeply before he took a polite sip and then a gulp, and finally, he emptied the mug. It took a while before his body began perspiring and his heart began racing. Dolohov shook his head as his eyes began losing focus and everything seemed to be and swirling.

Against his better judgement, his fingers worked to remove his clothes and groaned when a pair of hands began caressing his face. Dolohov's head lolled back as he huffed as nails grazed his clammy chest and a weight was placed on his lap. Lips began tracing along his jawline before they covered his own. Heat blazed through him as Dolohov chased after the lips only to burrow his head in the valley between soft flesh. He groaned and huffed as nails scratched his chest. As his body continued to surrender willingly to the foreign tongue licking him, he was barely aware of the hands removing his pants.

"Relax Antonin, my darling," a voice coaxed him as teeth gently bit his ear, "Let go and let me love you. Surrender to me…"

Surrender to me…

The words thundered through the red haze as Dolohov jerked and shuddered violently. When he opened his eyes, the glassy look was quickly disappearing and his grey eyes stared coldly at her. Clarity had returned. Hands that had been roaming her naked flesh stopped. One of his hand gripped her hip in a little violently while the other hand curled around to her nape. He pulled her face a little closer to his. "I will never submit to you," Dolohov whispered coldly as his hand released her nape to stroke her cheek lightly and tuck one of her stray strands behind her ear. Very gently, he carried her off him and placed her in the seat. He picked up his clothes and began to dress to leave. "You'll never win if you continue asking for that," he continued as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, "You know it has belonged to someone since a long time ago."

He was about to leave the house when she wrapped her arms around him, and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. She rested her head between his shoulders. She held him for a while before he patted her fists and they unwillingly opened. "One day, I'll be in your heart," she whispered defiantly as she summoned a file. "Take it, darling. You've won this time."

She watched him sadly as he took the file and left without a reply nor a backward glance. There was no need for him to say anything. For as long as they had been acquainted, since she fell in love with him, she had always asked for the same thing and she had always lost the game. Over and over and over again.

When he first met her, he had killed all the hitmen she had hired and he had been ready to kill her too. She had been an inch away from death when she had surprised him with her defiance. She had claimed to know a lot more about him than almost everyone else.

His curiosity had been piqued and he brought her to meet Dr Altair who had begrudgingly cured her. On her road to full recovery, she spilled to him all she knew about him and he was impressed even when her wizardry was considered deplorable by his standards.

It was at that point, that he had promised he would keep her alive and should she ever be hurt, he would seek revenge for her. She had not believed him and tested him – she had lied about being abused by a brothel and that same evening, the news came out that the men that she had lied about had all died a gruesome death. She knew that he knew she lied and yet he went ahead only to prove to her his word. Since then, she had never lied to him again and instead went about her business fearlessly.

With him as the might behind her, she had not feared dealing with anyone nor did she fear digging the dirt on anyone. She had enjoyed the protection his name provided her. Nobody dared to touch her as soon as she name-dropped him. She continued slipping in and out of social circles, getting the bits about everyone he wanted to know about and then playing it hard with him – trading information for little presents. He gave her whatever she wanted – new clothes and shoes, diamonds and gems, apartments, and he even killed anyone she wanted dead – except for his heart.

That was the only thing he would never give her and it was the only thing left that she truly wanted from him. That was why she proposed trading information for his love but he had rejected her proposal. He had told her it would not be fair on her because he was certain she would never worm herself into his heart regardless of what she did. Yet, even as he told her that, that did not stop her. She would propose a new game with him – she would continue to give him any information he wanted; but should he ever fall for her, she would reject him and she would stop feeding him information of his targets, and he would have to let her go.

She knew he was wary but he still went along with whatever she tried. She tried to beguile her with all of her feminine charm but he was unmoved. With every failure, she was even more determined to get him and she began trying different combinations of aphrodisiacs and love potions… but just like today, he would break out of the effects and walk away with his prize, and she would be left behind like a scorned woman.

"One day, Antonin," Allison vowed as she redressed and left the little house, "I'll reside in your heart."

Dolohov stood on the train station platform and waited for the train that would begin his journey back to Yaxley's Hall. Allison was just as he remembered her. Resourceful and efficient. The file held all the details he needed to find the wizard, and then some. It was the little dirty bits that he had scanned that were enough to infuriate him.

Had he not promised Yaxley that he would return to recuperate some more, he would have hunted and destroyed the wizard. Dolohov gritted his teeth as his fingers curled tightly around the file until his knuckles turned white.

"From now on, you're a dead man walking," he swore softly as he boarded the train, "Peter Williamson."

Please let me know what you think. :)

P.s. Due to unforeseen circumstances at work arising from the current international situation, I have decided to post this chapter much earlier than expected. It will be a while until the next chapter. Until we meet again, please take good care of yourselves and of your loved ones! God bless!