Title - The Last Song I'm Wasting On You
Song used - The Last Song I'm Wasting On You - Evanescence
Author - OblivionsGarden
Genre - Romance/Death/Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter in anyway shape or form. I only own the plot for this oneshot. nor do I own the song.

Sparkling grey. They're my own veins.

Hermione stood shaking, hands balled into fists. The snatcher holding firmly to her shoulders was breathing down her neck. She watched as he, the one she'd come to care for, for some reason that was far beyond her own logical brain, made his way towards her. Harry and Ron were watching, waiting. They knew, had done for a while, that she had feelings for someone. They didn't know who and she was thankful for that. But if she couldn't keep her composure and he said one wrong word, they'd know and they'd hate her for it.

Any more than a whisper. Any sudden movement of my heart.

"And you, my lovely...What do they call you?" Scabior leant forward, bringing a piece of her hair to his nose.
"Penelope. Clearwater...Half blood." She watched for his reaction. Nothing but a soft glance and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew her name and he knew her blood status.
Another snatcher announced that Harry's alias of 'Vernon Dudley' was not on their list. She watched Scabior use his wand to move Harry's hair from his forehead. She prayed hopelessly, that her stinging jinx had distorted enough of his features to hide the scar.
Scabior glanced at Hermione as she held her breath. "We're not takin' this lot to the ministry." She squoze her eyes shut. She never should've gotten involved with him.

And I know, I know I'll have to watch them pass away. Just get through this day.

Scabior walked ahead of the group, clutching tightly to Hermione's arm.
"Please, don't do this." She whispered.
"I 'ave to."
"No you don't. You want to." She spat.
"You really think I want to give you up to them? Are you mad? I can't just leave you behind, not now the others 'ave seen you."
"Let us go."
"I'll be dead in a second."
"Better me than you, then?" Scabior stared. Hermione wouldn't meet his gaze. She hadn't meant to say that. It came out wrong.

Give up your way, you could be anything, Give up my way, and lose myself, not today. That's too much guilt to pay.

"You could stop all of this now. Just let us go. You don't have to be this way." She pleaded as they neared the great iron gate that lead to Malfoy Manor. Lead to their potential deaths.
"You know I can't 'Mione." He sighed, his grip on her arm relaxing a little. "If I do, they'll kill me and then you." His grip tightened again, although she couldn't tell whether he'd meant it to or not. "Join us." He blurted, a little too loudly. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one had heard.
"What?" Hermione whispered harshly. She couldn't believe what he'd just said.
"We can pretend you've been feeding me information and that's how we found you. They won't kill you then...Or me."
Hermione was shaking her head as her tears fell. She pulled against his grasp, wanting to be free from him. "I can't. I have to stay with them. I'll never be like you Scabior. You're disgusting." This time, she had meant it to hurt.

Sickened in the sun. You dare tell me you love me. But you held me down and screamed you wanted me to die.

"Mione..." Scabior faltered as they reached the gate. They could see the shadowed figure of Bellatrix coming closer. "I love you." He whispered into her hair. Bellatrix was already at the gate before Hermione could reply.
She saw Harry and ushered them all inside, a sick smirk never leaving her twisted features. Once in the manor, Harry was shoved to his knees and Draco was summoned to identify him. Hermione didn't know why, hoped he was showing some signs of regret, but Draco said he couldn't be sure, asked what had happened to his face. That was when Bellatrix started coming back toward Hermione. She saw the sword and went ballistic. Chains and snakes came flying from her wand. Scabior had a long black whip tightened around his throat until he was spun, corkscrewing in the air and landing with a hard thud on the wooden floor. Hermione grimaced and turned her face away.

As Bellatrix loomed over her, whilst she lay on the floor, 'mudblood' carved into the pale flesh of her arm, she looked for Scabior. It took a while, but her blurred vision soon found a boot clad foot with checked trousers above. She was just about to utter his name before the crazed witch above her said the spell she feared was coming.
Crucio.
Her vision blackened as the pain took hold. She screamed, cried and begged for it to stop. And it did eventually. In her mind, her thoughts swam with visions of Scabior being the one to carve those letters into her arm. Whispering that he wanted her gone, along with Potter and the ginger.

Honey you know, you know I'd never hurt you that way. You're just so pretty in your pain.

Scabior listened intently to Hermione's whimpers. His hand absentmindedly rubbed his sore neck. He could only make out a few words. Scabior. Please. Don't kill me. His eyes widened. He didn't care if Bellatrix had heard. All he wanted to do was lift her into his arms and tell her everything would be OK. Tell her he was going to take her far away from this world they were in. Tell her he'd never kill her.
But he couldn't. She knew he couldn't. Instead, he stayed still and held on to the fact that even now, as she lay on the ground, her body shaking, she still held every ounce of beauty he'd ever seen in her.

Give up my way, and I could be anything.

As he stared down at her small form, he started to wonder if maybe she could be right. If he gave up on the life he'd come to be so used to, he could be with her. Hermione and Scabior. A couple. It was a funny thought but one he craved more than anything. With her, he could do anything, be anything he wanted.
He didn't get the chance to make his move and save her though. The ginger beat him to it. Rushing forward, to start the fight that ended with Hermione vanishing from his sight with Potter and an elf.

I'll make my own way. Without your senseless hate.

The war was over. Voldemort was defeated. Hermione lived on, with Ron. Scabior survived the fall of the bridge. He wasn't so sure he could survive going on without her, though. He saw them, the golden trio, after the war. They were in Diagon Alley with another girl he didn't recognize. She was similar to Hermione's new boyfriend though and so he presumed it was his sister. Hermione held on to Ron's hand beneath the table and this small act of intimacy didn't go unnoticed by Scabior who stayed hidden in the shadows.
She was doing well. She was working, she had a stable, safe relationship with one of her best friends, her parents memories had been restored. She wasn't anywhere near him. He who would rather keep his reputation than help someone he loved.

So run. And hate me, if it feels good. I can't hear your screams anymore.

Scabior waited, until the four friends made to leave, to make himself seen. He stood, quite still, on the corner of the street. He flicked his wand, causing a short coolness to run over Hermione's hand. She frowned, lifting the limb to inspect. She glanced up, curious and spotted him. Excusing herself and promising to catch them up, she made her way to where he'd moved back into the darkened alley.
"I thought you'd died during the war."
"I thought you didn't care."
"I don't." She lifted her chin in defiance. Scabior cast a silencing charm around them.
"I do. All I've dreamt about since that night you left is you. When Bellatrix was..."
"Torturing me? When you did nothing?"
"I wanted to. I was going to but your boyfriend beat me to it...Leave him."
"What?"
"You don't love him, I know you don't...There's no reason we shouldn't be together anymore."
"Scabior...You're mad." Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief. "You can't turn your back on me when I need you most and only come back when I'm happy...After everything's over."
"Mione..."
"Don't. I don't love you anymore." Her jaw was set and she turned on her heel to leave. Scabior tried to grab her elbow but she sped up, jogging out of the alley, back to Ron.

You lied to me. But I'm older now. And I'm not buying baby

Hermione returned to her and Ron's shared flat. It was where they were living to start before they got a little older and bought a house. She looked around at the many photo frames that lined the walls and shelves. Pictures of her and Ron, Ron and Harry, Harry and Ginny, all four of them together, the Weasley's, Hermione's family... In every photo the smile Hermione constantly wore was present. She couldn't imagine herself being able to produce the same smile around Scabior. Not after all this time. Perhaps, had they started out in a different circumstance, it could've been him that she now lived with.
She didn't believe him, when he said he loved her. If he did, surely he wouldn't just expect her to up and leave Ron. She wasn't the seventeen year old girl he'd met in the forest during the war. She was a nineteen year old young woman with a life. She wasn't going to fall straight back into his arms.

Demanding my response. Don't bother breaking the door down. I found my way out.

Scabior followed Hermione home. He didn't care if he had to face Ron, he had to talk this out properly. He knocked once, but he knew she'd check through the spy-hole in the door to see who it was. He waited but there was no answer.
"Mione, I know you're in there. We need to talk about this."
"We don't need to talk about anything. I loved you. You betrayed me. Now I don't love you. End of."
"Mione, please." He kicked the door in frustration.
"I am not afraid to curse your nose off Scabior." He heard her sigh. "Just leave. I'm happier with Ron."

And you'll never hurt me again.

Scabior did leave. For good. He removed his memories of Hermione, stored them in a glass vial and had them sent to her. Without his memories, he moved on. Lived his life as if she'd never existed, without any pain her hate caused him.
Hermione stayed in bed for three days when she received Scabior's memories. Ron didn't know what was wrong but knew better than to ask. She realized now, he had meant what he said. But it was too late. He didn't remember her and she didn't know where he was. She too had to move on. She took his lead, removed her memories of him with shaking hands. She stored them in vials with Scabior's and locked them inside a small tin, labelled 'The Past Should Stay The Past'.
Neither ever felt hurt for the other anymore.