"PET"
After Harry, Ron, and Hermione are captured by the Snatchers, another obstacle arises. The song "Pet" by A Perfect Circle inspired this short story.
Author's Note: This is a fictional obstacle which takes place during Harry, Ron, and Hermione's quest to find and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. It is not intended to be a romantic story. This is the complete account, there are no additional chapters.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The song "Pet" belongs to A Perfect Circle. I am not profiting from this story.
Hermione awoke with a start. She sat up immediately and her eyes rapidly searched for the source of the explosions, but were only met with darkness. Untangling herself from the papery sheets, she blindly felt the edges of the tent for the tiny tear near the ground—her only window to the outside world. The knick had gone unnoticed to the Snatcher, despite his charming of the tent to prevent anyone from entering or leaving, except him of course. She crouched down and brought her eye slowly to the rip to peer outside. Deeper in the woods a brilliant fire was licking at the foliage and climbing neighboring oaks and beeches. She saw other sparks that stood out against the ominous backdrop: sporadic flashes of green. Hermione knew a little further in the woods from her, wizards were combatting. She began to panic; the fire would likely reach the Snatcher camp within ten minutes and she was trapped inside a hexed tent, with no way out or no one to hear…
"Whatchu doin' there, beau'iful?"
Hermione's fear tersely hindered from the inferno as she tore her gaze abruptly from the secret peephole to face her newest threat. The Snatcher stood a few paces away, staring down at her with an indiscernible face. She had not noticed him enter. The lantern he had set on the table revealed his disheveled hair falling out of its braid and a fresh cut on his jawline. Hermione grew distressed from his appearance and the neutrality of his question, which lacked any amusement and almost seemed like a demand. He did not blink once.
"I…an explosion woke me up. I pressed against the tent to make sure it was far off from the camp…" she managed to breathe out between painful heartbeats, still crouching.
The Snatcher's eyes flickered from her to the tear in the lower side of the tent.
"Step away."
Hermione quickly rose and jerked to the side as the Snatcher pointed his wand to the tear. Instantly the side of the tent became smooth and the imperfection was eliminated. She thought she heard a distant cry.
"Stay there."
She sharply nodded as he turned and opened the tent to exit, unaffected by the barrier. Before the flap swung completely shut, she managed to get a rare glimpse outside…of darkness. The fire was gone. Hermione felt a slight relief which was quickly smothered by the dread of having upset the Snatcher.
It had been six days since she was taken from Ron and Harry.
"LIAR! WHAT ELSE DID YOU TAKE FROM MY VAULT?" roared Bellatrix Lestrange into Hermione's ear as she twisted the hair clenched in her fist cruelly.
"Please, I didn't…I…"
Hermione shrieked violently as Bellatrix pierced her already shredded forearm and dragged the blade to complete the word "mudblood." She was able to hear a howling Crucio before it went dark…
Scabior scrutinized his men furiously. Most of them were covered in soot and some had burns and boils.
"Whatchu lot playin' at? You coulda burned down the whole bloody forest!" he spat at them.
"Sorry boss," mustered a Snatcher smudging ashes from his brow, "'spect we just got a bit carried away."
"Youda been proud boss, those mudbloods dent know what hit 'em once we torched their brooms flyin' ova'head. They look like they was hit with a confundo when we got 'em from the top o' the trees," offered another Snatcher with a bright red boil on his nose.
"YOU ARSES COULDA BURNED OUR CAMP TO THE GROUND!" shouted Scabior. "Just jinx 'em and bring 'em to the Ministry. Haven't you lot learned your lessons in bringin' back ones who look like they've fallen in the nettles?"
"What's wrong with his face?" muttered the pointed-faced young Malfoy looking with uncertainty at Potter, ugly and deformed before him.
"Yes! What is wrong with his face?" chided Bellatrix Lestrange in a wild frenzy.
"Dunno, 'e came to us like that. Somethin' he picked up in the forest, I reckon," Scabior had provided. His eyes narrowed to the pretty Clearwater girl, who Greyback held too eagerly to his front side.
The witch scoffed but followed his line of sight. Her face contorted in animalistic glee.
"…Or ran into a stinging jinx! Was it you dear?" she maliciously taunted, approaching Clearwater. Greyback raised an eyebrow and the ginger growled. "Give me her wand, I'll see what her last spell was!" she cackled, before turning around to a Snatcher examining Clearwater's bag and to his amazement, pulled out a jeweled sword.
"Where'd you get that?" she shrieked.
"Came from that girl's bag," he smirked, studying the encrusted rubies. "Reckon it's mine now."
Lestrange's eyes went black and with an aggressive whip of her wand, the Snatcher was sent across the room as the sword was summoned to her left hand. His companion Greyback suffered a similar fate and was choked by a conjured serpent. Scabior withdrew his wand from its holster.
"ARE YOU MAD?"
The psychotic witch sharply turned to him and transfigured her wand into a long black whip which wrapped around his neck like a noose. He clutched the whip, gagging for a breath. He was lifted from the floor and corkscrewed in the air and after a blow to the head was released.
"GET THEM OUT!" was the last thing Scabior heard before he felt his body being dragged and the darkness welcomed him.
Scabior absentmindedly probed his neck as he glared at his men.
"If I find out you lot do anythin' but hex 'em and bring 'em to the Ministry, I'll set an incendio to all your tents and you'll be layin' on them rocks. Now off you go!"
The Snatchers murmured amongst each other and rubbed the soot from their singed clothes as they retreated to their tents. Scabior stared off into the final wisps of smoke smoldering into the sky and felt his neck prick.
"CRUCIO!" wailed Lestrange as the Clearwater girl let out a gurgling sound and went quiet.
Scabior was parting red and brown tendrils out of his stinging eyes and marble columns blurrily appeared. He clutched his throbbing neck. He was still inside Malfoy Manor.
"That filth is useless. Are those bloody Snatchers still here? Give her to them. COME HERE GOBLIN!" the mad woman bellowed.
It was enough to get him to his feet. Wand ready, he reentered the grand room and saw his only prize from this whole mental ordeal lying on the ground with something carved into her arm while the crazy witch with her pale relatives interrogated the goblin. He crept closer.
The throbbing from her bleeding forearm was the only reminder that she was alive. She tried to stifle a choke but wheezed. She forced her burning eyes open, anticipating Bellatrix's return. But instead, the battered face of that Snatcher greeted her. And he scared her even more than that dark witch because underneath the bruises and bloodstains, in those smeared eyes she saw lust.
"…Plea…" she croaked.
"EXPELLIARMUS."
Ron's disarming of Bellatrix was the last thing she heard before she felt a violent tug and then the nauseating feeling of apparation.
And underneath her incisions and bruises, she managed to look sensual sprawled out on the floor while her chest rose and fell in trepidation as he approached. No, he would not return with galleons for catching Potter, but he would have her. She groaned something but Scabior's mind was too preoccupied with what he would do with his prize, with his pet.
But his thoughts were interrupted by the ginger and Potter, who managed to escape the dungeons and disarmed the crazed witch. He would take no more time. He seized the girl's hand and thought carefully about the camp.
She could briefly identify a few tall oaks and the crunch of leaves before she was pushed ahead against hard material. She saw the clutter of items scattered around including lanterns, parchment, and bottles of firewhiskey along with an unmade bed, sheets askew. She was inside a tent.
He could hardly take it anymore. His small tent was now filled with her scent: vanilla and sugar, with a hint of salt. His breath was becoming ragged as he pushed her toward the bed.
She was pushed onto his bed and she could hear him panting. In the wells of her heart, she painfully knew it wasn't just because of his recent beating from Bellatrix.
"Please…" she whimpered.
It was enough to send him over the edge. His need was too great.
"Hello again, beau'iful," he breathed, "you are going to be my favorite."
"Don't fret, precious, I'm here."
Hermione realized she was still facing the blank side of the tent, perfected from its tear. She was too nervous to turn around to face the Snatcher. She heard him advance.
"Step away from there," he pulled her arm to turn her to him. He had his wand pointed toward the ceiling but kept his eyes on hers. Pools of silvery light emitted from his wand as he bewitched the ceiling of the tent into a celestial view of a starry sky. He allowed her to indulge in the heavenly bodies before turning her chin back to his face and studying her. "Go back to sleep." He released her and turned to the table and grabbed a half empty bottle of firewhiskey.
Hermione was left staring at the phantom void where the Snatcher's eyes once were. She stilled herself by lazily gazing at the shooting stars and milky sky. She crept backward slowly to the bed and got back inside, anxious of what the Snatcher would do next. Despite his use of her the past few nights, she had been lucky enough to have the bed to herself because he always had to apparate for a duty somewhere in the late hours. She closed her eyes but kept them open enough to observe him finishing the bottle through her thick eyelashes. He brought the empty bottle down to the table with a thud and stared off. There was another explosion and a scream far-off. Hermione had a sharp intake of breath. He turned to face the bed and she shut her eyes completely but knew the Snatcher had definitely heard her irregular breath and could somehow know she was awake, even though she regarded him through the curtain of her eyelashes. He stood up and sauntered over to her. Hermione's pulse quickened. Please, not tonight, not tonight.
"Beau'iful, really, go to sleep. Pay no mind to the rabble. You're staying with me. You're safe," he cooed, twirling a lock of her hair and inhaling.
Safe and ignorant Scabior thought. He would keep her during this war from both sides. Safe from pain, and truth, and choice. She would be kept in the dark away from it all. Away.
He could feel her heart thrumming from underneath the sheets. Wafts of sugary vanilla mesmerized him along with the sheen of the bewitched ceiling cast upon her locks. He clenched his teeth in arousal but then bit his lip and slowly backed away rubbing his stubbly and gashed jawline. Not tonight.
Hermione felt minor relief once his shadow left her. She allayed herself and entranced by the colors of the starry ceiling pouring on the sheets, she fell asleep wondering if the boys were still alive.