This extra update is for one reader who had their birthday yesterday! Cheers and happy birthday (belated) :D :) Thanks for reviewing and reading.

~o~

Many hours passed by, excruciatingly slow, in the cabin while Dolohov was gone back to Britain.

She wondered what Antonin would tell Voldemort? Couldn't Voldemort read minds? Wouldn't the Dark Lord, as he was so reverently called, want to speak to her or get information out of her since she was so closed to Harry? How could Antonin get away with keeping her as some kind of pet? Or had he told Voldemort that he was torturing her...which wasn't even remotely true. Even if Antonin Dolohov was a capital arse and an entitled misogynist who thought he could just marry anyone without their consent, he hadn't really hurt her.

She bit her lip. The thought really frightened her that Antonin might never come back, if Voldemort killed him. Or even someone in the Order killed him. It was not above the Order to occasionally kill Death Eaters.

She tried not to dwell on the possibility of something bad happening to Antonin. Not because she cared about him. She didn't. But if he didn't come back and no one was told where she was, she would most definitely starve to death in this cabin. A slow and agonizing death.

Hermione searched the cabin for something to do yet there wasn't much to amuse or distract herself with. The cabin wasn't very large and she had already covertly searched most of the house whenever Antonin had turned his back. There was just the washroom, the hall closet, the main kitchen-living room area and a small study. The study room was probably the most interesting room, with its green wallpaper, shelves and wood desk. Many books too, which surprised her, since she hadn't expected Antonin, the great oaf, to read anything at all. He seemed more of the jock type.

All his books were in Russian except one dual English-Russian translation of Anna Karenina. She picked up the well-worn cover and read Karenina for awhile though Tolstoy wasn't her favourite type of author. She generally preferred nonfiction to fiction and all of Tolstoy's books were notoriously long and serious. Though the ever persistent Vronsky, who kept pestering married Anna, reminded her vaguely of Antonin. Were all Russian men so persistent when unwanted by the object of their affection? Poor Russian women must have to deal with a handful, Hermione thought.

In his closet, she searched for other sources of amusement or a weapon of some sort. The only sharp object she found however were the knives in the kitchen. She took one of the sharper steak knives and hid it between the mattress of the bed in case she could use it later.

After a few hours of reading and wandering through the cabin, she was so bored, she took to staring out the front window, waiting for Dolohov to reappear. Why did she feel like a bored dog locked by its master while he was at work?

I'm going to go mad like this, Hermione thought and pulled at her hair. I have literally nothing to do here except worry about everyone else.

What was Harry doing? Were Harry and Ron trying to get the Order to get her back? What if Antonin or Voldemort hurt them while she was gone? She hoped Harry didn't take any risks trying to save her. Dammit.

She tried to imagine who the king that needed to be slain was in Dolohov's version of the Matimutka's story. "He can't mean Voldemort can he?" She wished he was a turncoat or spy like the late Severus Snape had been, but if Dolohov was a spy, they'd have known by now. He's just the bad guy, Hermione, quit kidding yourself.

It was nearing 4 o clock on the Russian clock by the fireplace when Hermione went to the washroom to take a bath out of pure boredom. It had been several days she she had been able to do anything but a scourgify while she had been on the run with Harry and Ron. And maybe it was her muggle background, but she still preferred to wash her hair and face the muggle way using actual water and nice-scented soaps.

Luckily, there were bottles of shampoo and soap and even running hot water.

So there is a small piece of civilization here, Hermione thought in relief as she threw off the ugly nightgown and slipped naked into the water.

She sat for awhile soaking in the sudsy, hot water when she heard noise from the front door. Somebody had swung the front door open. Antonin undoubtedly. Though she couldn't be so sure.

She panicked for a moment, not wanting him to find her in the bathtub. He had never seen her naked yet and she intended to keep it that way, his lust for her could not stand more encouragement. Things were tense enough as is between them.

"Bloody great!" Hermione swore, trying to wash the shampoo hurriedly out of her hair so she could get out of the bathtub, fully dressed, before Antonin came in.

"'Ermione!" he called from down the hall, "V'Where are v'you?"

"Shit." Hermione dunked her head quickly under the water to rinse the last of the shampoo out of her hair but unfortunately some of the shampoo suds had gotten into her eyes a moment before and had stung her eyes blind her for a bit. She tried to open her eyes underwater so get the sting of the shampoo out of her eyes. "Aghh! Bugger it, he just had to walk in now."

"Ermione! Vhat is wrong?!" Antonin called from the other side, hearing her cry of distress, before he barged into the washroom.

Hermione yelped as her worst fears were confirmed. Dolohov walked into the washroom just as she re-emerged from the water.

She stared blankly at him, her vision still semi blinded by the shampoo, at him as she sat up in the water.

Dolohov was not speaking. What had gotten into him?

Why were his eyes staring down at her like that? Like she'd grown three heads.

She yelped again as she realized the bubbles in the water no longer covered her breasts and he was staring at her naked upper body with an almost thirsty look of lust on his handsome features. Unconsciously a thrill fluttered in her stomach again. Yet she managed to put her head together and use her hands to cover herself.

"Can you leave?!" she snapped. "Am I not allowed any privacy here?!"

"V'You are beautiful," Antonin said lustily. "Magnificent."

"Err okay. Uhm ya, can you go now?" Hermione stammered, still holding her breasts to hide them from him.

"Can I join?" Antonin asked sheepishly and tugged at his collar.. "I am of in need of bath too!"

"NO YOU ARE NOT. YOU ARE PERFECTLY CLEAN," Hermione insisted in panic. Though he did look sweaty in a sexy way like he'd been running and fighting all day whilst gone. "Just go!" she shouted. She didn't care anymore that Voldemort hadn't killed him, or anything. What made him think he could just intrude on her like this? The bastard.

"No!" Antonin said and leered at her more.

Should she just jump out of the water and wrap herself with a towel, before he got an idea to jump in? But then he'd see naked for a moment as she stepped out of the water. Oh bloody hell.

As she saw Antonin start to take off his socks and then throw his sweater off, so his chest was naked again, Hermione dunked one last time under the water to rinse herself completely before she practically jumped out of the water and ran to get the towel.

Antonin followed her with his eyes like a wolf as she ran naked in front of him before she was shielded from his eyes again, wrapped in the fluffy towel.

She pointed at the door. "Please leave!"

But Antonin had other ideas. His hands came to rest on his belt buckle as he stood shirtless before her. "Make me, v'wife."

.

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~O~

a/n: Uh oh. Antonin is sorely lacking in manners isn't it? Not very respectful of her boundaries.

Please review I will update again tomorrow if we can get past 75 reviews. I really want to finish this story, before the internet goes down or anything else bad happens.

cheers