A/N: Mwhahahahaha! Happy Christmas, everyone!

xx-Kitten.


Witch Hunting

By Kittenshift17


Chapter Three


Hermione was certain she'd never ingested anything fouler than whatever the concoction was that Bellatrix had forced on her before she'd been set loose and instructed to run. She could feel it sloshing about inside her as she raced into the dark forest, the crimson cloak swinging from her shoulders and brushing her bare ankles enticingly. All around her, the other witches ran, too, and a bellow of fury in the distance caused her to look back.

There, on the hill in the distance, wizards were racing down the slope in their direction. Hermione couldn't see far enough in the low light to figure out which one of them bore a crimson cloak identical to the one wrapped around her own shoulders. She would've been tempted to rip the wretched thing from her own shoulders were it not for the fact that, to avoid having her do just that, Bellatrix and the others had stripped her and the other runners of their clothing. She was as naked as the day she'd been born, but for the cloak, and the icy bite of the wind ensured she wouldn't be parting with the cloak any time soon, if she could help it.

"Hermione, run!" Luna gasped from beside her and Hermione glanced toward the little blonde witch running parallel to her, gasping for breath as she was.

"Don't stop, Luna," Hermione encouraged, already forming a stitch in her side, unaccustomed to running in the cold and the dark. It was by luck alone that she'd yet to put her foot in a rabbit hole, or trip over a tree root.

"I have to," Luna gasped. "It hurts to run. I think my ribs are broken."

Hermione winced.

"I'll heal them," Hermione said. She'd been given back her wand, but she'd already tried apparating to freedom to no avail. The property was obviously warded against apparition, and so that route for escape had been cut off. It looked like the only way she'd be getting free would be if she was captured and someone forced a wedding ring onto her finger, or if she managed to evade capture long enough to find a way off the property on foot.

"You can't," Luna puffed. "Then we'll both be caught. Leave me be, Hermione. I think I know who I was matched to. I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you, Luna," Hermione said, taking the blonde girl's hand and tugging her sharply behind the trunk of a nearby Angel Oak tree.

"You need to go, Hermione," Luna protested when Hermione shoved her against the tree and aimed her wand.

"Episky," she said, her heart racing in her chest.

Luna moaned as her ribs clicked, knitting the bones back together.

"Now, run," Hermione said. "Otherwise we'll both end up raped and forced into marriage with Death Eaters."

Luna didn't protest when Hermione pulled on her arm, dragging her through the forest.

"They're catching up," Luna said, listening to shouts as trees in their wake were set ablaze to better light up the night.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, watching as Fenrir Greyback, running on all fours, leaped at a witch out of the night, tackling her to the ground in a tangle of limbs to a soundtrack of screams escaping the girl Hermione vaguely recognized as a Ravenclaw witch from Fred and George's year at Hogwarts. She winced when he pinned the girl under him, lying on her face in the dirt before he buried his teeth in the top of her left shoulder, marking her in the traditional werewolf way, rather than bothering with a ring.

"They'll never take me alive," Hermione growled, running faster. She leapt over tree roots, dodging around trees and boulders.

"YOU!" an angry voice shouted from behind her.

"Oh, goddess, Hermione," Luna squealed. "Run!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Luna diverting from the path Hermione was taking, running around the far side of a big rock, her periwinkle cloak glittering in the glow from someone's Lumos Solem charm just before she disappeared. Hermione's heart stuttered out an uneven beat inside her chest when a dark-haired wizard gave a little crow of delight, dashing after Luna, his own cloak of periwinkle gleaming, before he, too, disappeared from view.

"Luna!" Hermione shouted as she rounded the boulder.

She spied Luna a way ahead of her, having taken a more direct route. The wizard was gaining on her, and he was laughing wickedly, catcalling to her, apparently familiar with the blonde witch that had been held prisoner for so long by the Death Eaters.

"You're mine, witch!" a voice came from behind her as she leaped a fallen log and Hermione looked back on the landing, her eyes widening in horror when the hulking shape of an enormous wizard met her gaze from the other side of the log.

"You'll never catch me," Hermione vowed when she spied the rich crimson of the cloak swinging from his broad shoulders.

"Oh, I will, Princess," he snarled, leaping the log.

Hermione knew in an instant that she'd never be able to outrun him. His legs were much longer than hers, and she wasn't a strong runner to begin with.

Dashing for a clearing between the trees she spied in the distance, Hermione flicked her wand when she reached it, creating a ring of fire to hold him off. He skidded to a stop just on the far side of it, reeling back when the flames leaped high, ready to devour him should he come too close. Narrowing her eyes on him, Hermione squinted through the flames, trying to make out his features.

Thick blond hair hung to his shoulders and a golden-brown beard lined his strong jaw. Bright blue eyes were narrowed on her hatefully and the breath left Hermione's lungs in a screech of fury when she recognized him

"Thorfinn Rowle?"

His eyes widened in surprise when she flung a Stunning spell at him, though he dodged it quickly.

"Granger?" he asked, sounding incredulous and furious when he realized it was her.

"I'm never going to let you have me, Rowle," Hermione warned, hissing in fury when he twirled his wand, somehow extinguishing the ring of flames she'd cast in a single blow.

"I don't reckon I want you, Princess," he sneered through the smoke that filled the dark.

Hermione ran. Flinging a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him, she laughed when it hit him, sending him sprawling while she ran for it.

She screamed when, only a few meters further into the forest, someone tackled her from the side. She went down in a tangle of limbs to a symphony of her own shriek and a rough Russian curse.

"Lumos" the wizard snarled, flipping her to her back and pinning her with one arm as she writhed under him.

"Stupefy," Hermione snarled, trying to blast the Russian bastard off her.

"Granger?" Antonin Dolohov asked, frowning down at her as she struggled under him. He looked surprised to see that it was her, and Hermione realized that he'd mistaken her for Alecto Carrow, thanks to the short stature, slim build, and long dark hair she shared with the other woman.

"I'm not your witch, Dolohov," Hermione hissed. "Carrow went that way."

She jerked her chin in the direction of a thickly wooded area to her right.

"Of course, she did," Dolohov growled, narrowing his eyes hatefully when he looked in that direction and saw how dense the forest grew there, obviously knowing it would be a nightmare trying to track down his woman in the thick foliage. "And what color have you got, eh?"

"Oi, Dolohov, you bastard!" Rowle shouted. "Get off my witch and lift this fucking jinx, would you?"

"You and Rowle?" Dolohov asked, laughing wickedly, still pinning her and being sure to get an eyeful of her bared breasts while he was at it.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Hermione hissed, kicking him furiously.

"Better get in my taste of you now, then, hadn't I?" Dolohov sneered. "Before you're claimed, and I'm chained to that harpy."

Hermione squealed and clawed at his face when he darted down her body, still pinning her with one heavy hand on her chest. She tried to kick him when he used his knees to force her legs apart. She tried futilely to fight him off, trying to snap her legs shut, and Hermione screamed in furious protest when he laughed before ducking his face between them and dragging his tongue over her naked flesh.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione snarled, jabbing her wand at him.

Dolohov laughed when the spell didn't do anything more than zap him, barely even making his hair crackle with it's power and certainly not strong enough to kill him.

"I'll kill you for this, you bastard," Hermione snarled furiously, writhing under him when he dipped his tongue inside of her. He hummed in appreciation for her taste, lapping at her like a dog at peanut butter and Hermione screamed in frustration, loathing that despite her revulsion, her body reacted favorably to the caress.

"Damn it, Toshka!" Rowle shouted. "You better not be putting your mouth on my witch, or I'll wring your neck, you fuckin' cunt!"

Hermione didn't know if she should be grateful or appalled that he was laughing as he said it. Dolohov licked his lips and grinned at her wickedly before latching onto Hermione's clit and sucking hard, making her writhe and drawing a ragged gasp from between her lips, unbidden.

"Just taste-testing her for you, Ditya," Dolohov drawled to Rowle when he let up on Hermione only after managing to drag a ragged moan from her.

"Bastard," Rowle snarled. "Go hunt your own psycho bitch."

"Crucio," Hermione hissed at the Russian still pinning her. She couldn't ever recall being so angry and Dolohov gasped when pain invaded his frame, making him shudder, gritting his teeth on the urge to scream.

"Get the fuck off me, you twisted, foul, wretched git!" Hermione demanded, kicking the sod angrily when he let up on his chokehold thanks to the power of her curse.

"You've got some Darkness in you, after all, eh pchelka?" Dolohov asked, his voice just the faintest bit strained.

Hermione bared her teeth, clawing him with her nails and drawing blood from his cheek.

"Toshka!" Rowle was still laughing and struggling, before throwing off the hex she'd hit him with and rolling to his feet. "She's mine, you git! Or she will be, just as soon as I kick the shit out of you and hunt her down again."

"Run, then," Dolohov laughed in Hermione's face when Thorfinn was on his feet. "Run, run, run, as fast as you can, little mudblood."

He rolled off her, still laughing despite the threats and despite the Cruciatus curse he'd endured under her wand. Hermione scurried to her feet, flinging another hex at him that he blocked, before firing one over her shoulder at Rowle, hoping to knock him out to better get away. Rowle was expecting it and blocked the hex with ease while Hermione darted away into the night, her fingers wiping at the unnerving wetness between her legs after the rough treatment.

She heard the dull crunch followed by a groan behind her and glanced back to see Rowle had punched Dolohov for tasting her.

"Paws off my witch, cunt," Rowle said.

"Going to claim your little mudblood, then?" Dolohov sneered, laughing barely phased by the blow or the curses Hermione had hit him with.

"Yes," Rowle vowed before springing after her. Hermione fired more hexes over her shoulder, putting on a burst of speed and dashing for the thickly wooded area to the right where she'd seen Carrow run, knowing Rowle would have a hard time squeezing his wide shoulders through the closely growing trees. She'd lost sight of Luna in the chaos, but Hermione didn't dare call for her, lest Rowle follow the sound of her voice.

Ducking between the trees, her small stature and slim build allowed her to slip between them easily. Hermione dashed away into the night, hoping against hope that if she could find somewhere to hide, she'd be able to evade Rowle until dawn and then make her escape. She'd prefer that to suffering the indignity of being bound to Thorfinn Rowle for the rest of her life. A more annoying and ruder wizard she was sure she'd never met, even after having endured Dolohov's lack of manners. The deeper she went into the woods, the thicker the canopy became and the harder it was to see. Eventually, Hermione had to slow her pace to a brisk walk, not daring to light her wand, lest Rowle see the light and follow her. She squinted in the dark and stumbled her way through the forest without direction other than to be pushing on away from the direction she'd come, hoping Rowle was struggling to find his way through the dark, too.

Hermione held her breath when she reached a spot where she couldn't see a thing at all, groping around until she found a tree to lean against, trying to catch her breath. She sighed softly, trying to forget the wicked feel of Dolohov's tongue between her legs and cursing the fact with that one, quick assault, he'd proven that, Death Eaters or not, the men hunting them all tonight were very real, and very much more interested in sex than murder.

She shuddered when the thought of Rowle doing the same thing occurred to her, her body tingling and making her think that whatever the foul concoction was that Lestrange had forced her to drink, it was laced with potent aphrodisiacs. Just before she could think to either touch herself, or to push on for a better place to hide, a voice hissed from the darkness and ropes shot out to constrict around her, tying her to the tree.

"Incarcerous!"