A/N: Sorry for the short hiatus. Pull up Google translator for more Russian translation if desired. I have never had any issue copy/pasting but sorry if you do. I did not provide translations because Hermione does not speak Russian and does not know what he is saying. I included what context she can figure out but honestly, you don't have to know what he's saying (just like she doesn't know) in order to read this chapter).
The Austere Stonewall, Book 3: Hermione
Chapter 12: The Escape, Part 2
She awoke with a start, very disorientated. At first she was unsure what woke her. She was warm underneath the blanket and on the bed again. She still had horrible cramping that made her want to crawl into a warm tub of water or to down a pain potion. Her head was aching so badly she thought it might split open.
There was a boom from a distance and Hermione saw Dolohov was sitting up on the couch across the room in the dark, his wand poised.
Terror washed over Hermione as she sat up and listened to the deafening sound of cannons nearby. The ground underneath the cabin shook with them and for a confused second, Hermione tried to determine why muggle cannons or bombs were going off in the middle of the night. It was Dolohov's cursing that gave her hope that the noise wasn't muggle at all. She had a vague recollection of the last time she'd hear that sound before: the battle of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters had attacked the wards surrounding the grounds to gain access and it had sounded like cannons.
Leaping away from the couch, Antonin strode to the window and looked out. She wasn't sure if he could see anything or not but she knew he was a little worried by the Russian mutterings and the nervous way he stroked the beard on his face.
The bed underneath her was suddenly the most uncomfortable thing in the world. If there was even a chance that someone was attempting to break Dolohov's wards, there was a slight chance of her being rescued and she wanted to be ready.
By the window, her captor was waving his wand around the cabin, casting and recasting spells over and over again. Hermione slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her quietly. She used the toilet and replaced a new towel underneath the flannel button up men's shirt she wore. She glanced at the door before easing open the cabinet under the sink. Seeing the dark night beyond the gap in the wall where the pipe had previously been, Hermione shoved the bloody rag out the hole so that someone could use it to track her. Even if it fluttered away in the breeze, it was good to leave a breadcrumb trail.
She pressed her ear to the bathroom door to listen for signs that Dolohov was paying attention to her. When nothing gave her the idea that he was outside the door or evening listening to what she was doing, Hermione took her heel that she'd left under the sink and started trying to shove it through the hole in the wall. It was difficult with her broken wrist aching and shooting pain up her arm. She managed to get the front part of the shoe through with only a muffled thud-like sound that had her pausing in fear that he'd heard and gotten suspicious. When Dolohov hadn't burst through the door, Hermione began angling the stiletto of her heel through the hole and when she had it mostly out of the hole, she concentrated harder than she ever had on casting a wandless, nonverbal blue bell flame.
For a moment she was transfixed, sitting there awkwardly on the disgusting floor of the ramshackled cabin in the middle of who knows where. The blue glow from the flame looked like a beacon that only stretched to a four foot circumference but it was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in almost a week. With her back pressed to the bathroom door, Hermione gathered as much leverage as possible before using her foot to push the blue flame-engulfed high heel out the hole in the wall.
She maneuvered under the sink in the dank cabinet to press her eye to the hole. She was certain she could see a faint blue flickering in the air.
The sounds of cannons were still renting the air, coinciding with the pounding of her heart. Wait, that wasn't her heart. It was the bathroom door.
"Milaya! Out! Now!"
Closing the cabinet quietly, Hermione flushed the toilet and stood.
The door slammed open and a hand grasped her by the upper arm.
"What are you doing?" Hermione struggled against the harsh tugging of Dolohov, not wanting to be dragged anywhere.
"Stop resisting! Sit!"
Hermione was pushed roughly to sit on the couch as a panicked Antonin paced in front of her, wand waving in the air in a complicated pattern.
This went on for what Hermione determined to be five minutes. He would curse under his breath before renewing his efforts and she was able to spot a pattern to his wand movements. Whatever he was casting, he was having to re cast it as soon as he completed it which meant someone was countering it repeatedly.
Hope flared in her chest.
There was a loud boom so loud that not only did the cabin shake, but Hermione was knocked to the floor off the couch. She felt a pain erupt in her skull as she hit the side of her head on the coffee table.
Her eyes squeezed shut involuntarily, as her stomach lurched with sudden nausea.
Struggling to her hands and knees, Hermione forced herself to look around the room.
About five feet to her right, Dolohov was on the floor in a position similar to herself, his wand was trapped beneath his palm. If she was quick enough, maybe she could wrestle it away from him. With people on the outside of the wards attempting to break through, she was sure a distraction from her on the inside would help them much faster.
She didn't think about her actions, she just reacted.
A nonverbal, wandless gential cleansing charm aimed at Dolohov hit its mark only moments before she lunged at his wand.
The jerk of his body told her she must have overpowered the gentle cleansing charm. She was certain she'd stung his arsehole with it by the way he arched off the creaky wooden floor of the cabin.
Her fingers clutched around the tip of his wand and she very nearly had it away from him when he tightened his grip with a horse shout in Russian.
Even in the final battle, Hermione hadn't been in as much pain as she was in currently. Between the lack of food and water over the course of a week, the broken wrist, the cramping in her uterus, the concussion, and the bruising in her neck, Hermione was running on adrenaline.
She managed to straddle the Russian Death Eater but she wasn't fooled into thinking she had the upper hand. One hand held his wand tightly even as Hermione attempted to take it. His other hand reached up to choke her again.
Her breathing stuttered and she wrapped her fingers around his hand even as it squeezed tighter.
"Ne boris' so mnoy!" Dolohov shouted at her.
She didn't know what he was saying but she was sure it was telling her she couldn't win or to stop.
She could barely get any air in her lungs as she tried to stand up to escape his grasp. He followed her as she backed away from him. He sat up, his hand still wrapped around her throat even as she scooted backward down his thighs, gasping and struggling to remove his grip.
"Sdat' sya," he crooned to her, jerking his wand away from her slackening grip.
She used both hands to attempt to dislodge him from her neck. His grip loosened a little as he aimed his wand at her.
"Vremya ukhodit, a ya yeshche ne poluchil svoy priz," he murmured to her beneath the noise of what now sounded like thunder.
"What?" she shouted, hands around his one on her throat, scrambling backward as he pushed on her neck until her back hit the floor.
"I was waiting for it to be your idea but we don't have time for romance, it seems," he replied.
An icy fear shot through her body as she felt the hand holding his wand ruck up the tails of the shirt she wore, exposing inch by inch of her thighs.
The floor underneath her shook so violently that for a moment, Dolohov was knocked to the side. Blessed air rushed into her body in gulps and it was all she could do as she lay there. She didn't get to catch up on breathing before he was back on her, ripping the last three buttons on her shirt in an effort to get to her.
Only 7 months ago she'd been in a similar position in Malfoy Manon only then she'd been pinned down by Bellatrix Lestrange with Fenrir Greyback pawing at her body. Now she had Antonin Dolohov trying to beat the clock as someone attempted to get to her.
The difference this time was that Dolohov only had one goal on his mind which was to have her before she was rescued. He was no longer recasting his wards so she knew that he'd come to the conclusion that they would get through the wards soon. It seems he'd decided to get as much from her as he could before caught.
7 months ago she'd had no idea or hope of being rescued. The only people who knew where she was then were also wandless captives. She'd done her best then to endure it and hope they tired of her before she was dead.
Now, though, she knew help was coming and that if she could just distract him, she could hang on long enough for Severus to come for her. There was no doubt in her mind that Severus was doing his best to save her.
"Wait!" she shouted at him, hands thrown up in surrender. "Let's do this properly."
There was a hesitancy in his actions as he fingered the edge of her knickers. Never had Hermione wished for a man to be squeamish and immature at the sight or thought of menstruation but now that she did, she was horrified to see that it didn't seem to bother Dolohov.
A small part of the back of her mind was scoffing at how Harry and Ron gagged and ran from the room at the mere mention of it yet here was a Russian Death Eater with only a portion of his sanity in tact, resolved to raping her despite the crimson fluid staining the towel he'd given her to soak it up.
"Mne zhal', moya lyubov'. U nas net vremeni dlya medlennogo," he whispered in her ear as he leaned over her.
She didn't know what that meant but he said it so softly and almost sweetly that she recognized regret in his tone.
A tear slipped over her cheek as he gripped the thin fabric of her skimpy knickers on her thigh and tore it away from her body.
She gasped in dear as he gripped the other side and tore it as well before wadding all the fabric between her legs up in his fist. The sound of the wad of fabric hitting the wall he threw it at resounded in her head over the thunder booming around them.
What happened next was a blur. She knew she should struggle and fight but her wrist and head hurt, her body hurt and she was frozen in fear as she watched him unfasten the front of his trousers.
Antonin's dirty fingernails pulled himself out of his pants and her eyes widened in horror when she saw that he was even bigger than her husband. She hadn't seen a lot of naked men but she knew her husband was well endowed. Anything more than Severus was obscene. He was fully erect for the act he was intent on performing and there were no barriers between them.
She brought one of her knees up to her chest and began kicking at his chest.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" She shrieked, scrambling away from him.
The hand not grasping himself, gripped her thigh painfully as he tugged her back towards him. His hulking figure loomed over her as balanced himself on his elbows.
"If you love me, don't do this," Hermione whimpered.
"Ya delayu eto, potomu chto lyublyu tebya," he answered.
She had no clue what it meant but it was probably an excuse or a justification. She thought she recognized the word for 'love' in there.
A resounding thunder echoed across the room as light flooded the cabin. Hermione turned to look at the disturbance and relief zipped through her veins at the sight of a silhouetted body illuminated by wandlight.
"Stop and back away before we cast an Avada, Dolohov," said someone she didn't recognize.
Hermione raised a knee up but Antonin's hand was still grasping her thigh and pressing her leg to the floor. She struggled to raise it in a plan to knee him in the groin. It would have been impressive, the amount of strength and presence of mind he possessed while having a wand pointed at him, if her rape wasn't the action he was concentrating on.
More light lit the cabin as more people entered behind the person in the point position. By the clothing, she determined they were aurors based on the robes. Every fiber of her being was crying out for Severus but any person aside from Antonin Dolohov would be acceptable at this particular moment.
In a matter of moments, aurors surrounded them in the tiny cabin. She hadn't even thought to be embarrassed at the fact that she was lying on the floor surrounded by blood with her bottom half exposed as her captor was poised over her with his penis exposed.
"Let Granger go," shouted one of the aurors from somewhere behind Hermione's head. "Do you want to get her hurt?"
Dolohov shouted in Russian, "Ona ne postradayet, yesli ty uydesh'."
Her eyes flitted from Dolohov to the 6 or seven wands she could see pointed at him, not counting the aurors behind her where she couldn't see.
One of the aurors behind her started telling Dolohov his rights and she saw him look up. She had a brief second to get the element of surprise. She put all her weight into pulling the knee of the leg he wasn't gripping up to her chest. She used her momentum to roll, knocking Dolohov to the side as she did.
Before she could execute the roll, Arms were grasping her around her middle, hauling her away from the center of the firing ring. Spells of red, green, and sickly yellow all sailed through the air at Dolohov.
Hermione watched as his body arched off the floor as he was hit by several spells at the same time before falling to the floor with a thud.
Relief so strong that Hermione lost control of her legs rushed from her chest along all of her limbs. The pain exploding in her head, wrist, neck and uterus came to her attention again as she attempted to stand. A pain in her rib where someone's arm was holding her stung.
"No, no! Get off me, get OFF ME!" Hermione screamed, pulling away from whoever was holding her. Nothing made sense to her at the moment; her brain was wrapped in cotton and the only thing she knew was that she hurt all over and that she wanted Severus.
"I've got you," a familiar voice in her ear whispered, baritone and silky smooth.
She relaxed and turned to see Severus' worried face and that was the last thing she saw as the tunnel of black closed in on her.
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