Chapter 2
"What. The. Actual. Fuck!" After the nausea subsided the witch stood and checked over her two companions. Dog on the ground absolutely fine, massive feline rolling in the snow, questionable. But nonetheless surviving, if not thriving in these wild conditions. Turning around the witch let out a little squeak as she realized she must be in the right place with the wrong season. There stood the beautiful log cabin, smoke billowing out of the chimney and looking oh so inviting. Only thing wrong with this picture was the snow, it was late fall in Britain. This was definitely some form of winter! Snapping her eyes to the iron key in her hand, this witch realized that the portkey was definitely not a local portkey. "Fuck!" After a moment of being angry this witch decided a pep talk and then a hot cup of tea would probably do her a world of good. "Common you two, we should go inside. None of us are dressed for snow." Having dressed for work that day, the witch trudged through the snow in her favorite heeled booties and made offhand comments about her luck. "Fucking hell Vicki, what have you gotten yourself into this time!" The writer berated herself upon unlocking the front door.
There she stood for several seconds while admiring how beautiful the little cabin really was. A small kitchen in the back left corner with a pantry tucked in beside it, a small square kitchen table set dividing the kitchen from the living room. A dark green sectional couch with a small table perfect for taking tea sat just in front of a warm fireplace. In the back right corner were stairs headed up to the loft she could only just peek at. To her right was a coat rack full of heavy wool and fur coats, boots, pants for heavy snow and on top of a shelf were baskets with gloves, mittens, scarfs and hats. Whomever had owned this cabin prior to the ministry taking it really was ready for winter. Allowing her familiars to pass inside, the witch shut the door behind her and slid the heavy metal bar across the door adequately locking herself inside. Knocking the snow off her booties Vicki continued to stray through the cabin looking around and becoming familiar with her new home. "Home…" something about this felt like home. She laughed and shook her head "only home for ten days…" she muttered as she found her trunks and started to unpack. The muggle way.
It was during a business meeting at the Russian ministry, that Antonin Dolohov felt his skin prickle and crawl alerting him that a witch or wizard had just passed though the wards of his Babushka's cabin. A cabin so heavily warded by none other than himself that no one had dared try to enter the property in over 30 years. Besides himself of course. The British ministry had claimed it as their own after the first Wizarding war when he had been sent to Azkaban. Never able to access the property due to the warding, they were happy to have gifted the property back to the Russian ministry after the second wizarding war, when it was requested. What the British ministry didn't know was that Antonin was alive and well living in his mother country, staying in that cabin as it was gifted back to him as the only remaining Dolohov.
Antonin didn't get nervous, he however did know how to be cautious. Tonight he would apparate into the woods away from the house and inspect his wards, because there was no way someone just got through blood wards, or his own flavor of deadly warding that he had learnt and created himself. His time as a curse breaker before the war in Britain had taught him lots, and he used that daily now that he worked for the Russian goblins banks. Thing was, if the goblins at Gringotts had been harsh with their wards, Russian goblins weaved evil. Needless to say, no one could simply just apparate inside his wards. Not without dying at least.
Later that evening Antonin apparated just inside his wards with a disillusion charm wandlessly cast as soon as his feet touched the snow. Weaving his wand and pulling apart the different layers of his wards to see what was going on and how the intruder had been allowed passage. It wasn't until Antonin had pulled the sticky black strings of his oldest blood wards that he seen wards that concerned him. Milky white wards he couldn't poke his wand at were weaved all over the outside layers of his. Suffocating wards of entrapment that were engraved with some sort of ruins.
Blast it all to hell. Ruins take time to destroy, he was going to be well and truly trapped for at least the night. Antonin had the smallest sliver of anxiety trickle in with a wave of rage and curiosity. Who set these wards, who was being contained by them and why the fuck was it happening at his cabin. Antonin shook with rage as he took his time reassembling the magical warding, re-weaving all of the sticky black bubble gum strands back into place. As he completely removed himself from the hot squeezing layers of warding into the chilled Russian air he realized with a startled jump that a massive and angry ball of fluff was watching him, even with the disillusion charm the cat watched his every move, if you could call something that feline and large just a cat.
Antonin took a step towards the animal, with liquid grace the feline had moved to a predatory stance and let out a much deeper and angry growl than should have been allowed. Before he had much of a chance to try and calm the wild beast down, his front door opened to reveal a witch. No, not just a witch, a short and plump witch with wild red hair that had Antonins blood flowing quickly and in the wrong direction for the current situation. Scamander's balls, she was going to freeze to death on his front porch. The blue silk shorts she had on had lace on the edges that matched the lace top that looked like a bra. Half draped over one shoulder and hanging was the tiniest excuse for a house coat he had ever seen, Salazar! Was royal blue her color. Gray eyes scanned the yard, stopping on the wild beast in front of him. "Bass get your fluffy arse in here! It's fall in Britain! You have no winter coat and I will not slowly defrost you by this fire. NOW!" She had moved her hands to her hips and was tapping her moccasin covered foot on the porch.
What little blood that had managed to not travel south was soon gone as she wrapped her arms around herself, pushing her tits up in the process. Whatever she was wearing for a top was most definitely see-through. Antonin could not tear his eyes from the little vixen in front of him, so many soft curves, crazy wavy red hair and he could already tell she was going to destroy his life. All would be worth it if he could sit and watch her wrap those soft full lips around his cock. What? What was wrong with him! This bitch was in his home! He briefly wondered if she had been naked in his bed, and how it was that he was going to get her there. While he was having a hard time thinking he noticed the mongrel she had called Bass, start trudging towards her though the snow. The beast was mewling and almost barking in ways that sounded like complaining even to him. What truly blew his mind was when she picked him up this giant predator of a cat wrapped his arms around her neck and turned to glower at him. As the tiny little witch turned and headed back inside, he could still see the glowing green cat eyes peering at him through all the massive red hair. He was almost distracted enough by the cat to not notice just how seductive she looked walking away from him, the sway of her hips having caught his attention until the door closed.
Antonin really didn't understand what had just happened to him, his cock wouldn't calm down and he realized he wouldn't be sleeping naked in his bed until he knew what to make of the vixen in his house. The white milky wards were also a concern. He couldn't leave. At least not yet, the ruins would slow him down immensely while he tried to dismantle the wards keeping him trapped. Best he not try to apparate out of here in case it triggered an alarm to whomever had put them in place. Best he found a warm spot to settle down into for the night, and he knew just the perfect place.