Disclaimer - I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, and these characters are borrowed, in a non profitable way. Harry potter belongs to a certain J.K Rowling.
The first chapter is rather short, but its just to get a sense and an opening. R&R
Also not my first fanfiction though, my first one posted here, I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

We Meet at Last

The forest path seemed to stretch forever. Dark green vines and moss-covered branches stretching from the sides like ravenous serpents as if trying to enrapture any passers that dared walk down this hollowed road. One of the men walking down that road, a tall and muscular figure, stopped to a halt. His black leather boots skidding a little in the gravel as he did. The man took a fleeting glance around the forests silent interior, they were far from any nearby villages and towns now.

'Oi you lot, stop..do you 'ear that?" The tall man grumbled, to the group of four men following him, the falter in his voice was evident of curiosity, causing his men to stop immediately and draw out their wands. After the sound of grumbling and moaning as they retrieved their weapons, they all paused looking around the forest.

Silence.

"Nothin'.." One of the followers retorted.
"Scabby you're gettin' paranoid ..there aint nothings about 'ere-" Another man was adding with a burly voice but he was cut off by a hand held in the air from the tall man.

Scabior held his hand up to silence the filthy creature moaning at him, and it was just then that he heard it again. How could his men not hear it? stupid twats the lot of them. It was the sound of a fire crackling with sharp hisses. Not near by no, it was to the west.
Scabior's smirk stretched across his face, "Seems to me lads, that someone is playing in the forest, when they ought not to be. Now what are we going to do about that eh?" He casually turned on his heel and started to the west with his arrogant strut.

His actions were met with some happy jeering, and he was soon followed.

His men where stupid. Then again, that tended to be a habit with snatchers. Wizards and witches who had a hard time learning anything useful. Well useful by the ministry's eyes. Greyback was useful no doubt of that. He was a filthy beast, Scabior had to admit, but useful no less. Hired muscle, good sense of smell and a fast runner, everything a snatcher ought to be. The other men had these attributes obviously, though they were not nearly as good as Fenrir Greyback and Greyback was not nearly as great as Scabior. No, Scaboir was a great snatcher, he had all the usual attributes, and he wasn't even a werewolf, like that filth Greyback. His manners too were favorable to most pure bloods. Most of the time. He was also rather smug about his looks. Tall in height, and a slim yet muscular figure, littered with few scars. His eyes were large orbs, smooth as glass and glaringly icy. A beautiful shade of pale blue that always seemed to have a suggestive glint in them. His nose was long and sharp, like most of his features it was pointed. His cheekbones seemed to be his most alluring aspect, they were high and prominent and with his sharp square jaw it gave his face an overall shady and somber lure.

Scabior felt his nose twitch at the smell of the small fire up ahead, now that they were closer he grinned. They should fetch a nice price at the ministry. Just as he was thinking of reaping in the profits his nose was attacked by another scent. What was that? It was heavenly, a smooth feminine smell, it was enticing, inviting even. He let out a sigh,

'Smell that?' He quizzed his men. Thoughts shaping the woman in his mind that the smell must have belonged to.

'Smoke.' Was Greyback growled reply, a dark smirk twisting on his lips.

Scabior sighed, how pitiful of the werewolf. 'No,' it was vanilla he could smell. The look on his men faces was priceless, Greyback even took an extra whiff. Almost making Scabior laugh, but the look on Greyback's face told Scabior that he had gotten it after all.
'A woman.'

'Hold still, Ron!' Hermione huffed pressing a damp cloth to Ron's face attempting to rub the dirt there. Honestly, how could someone get so dirty? Hermione Granger a young woman with a bush of light brown hair and a pair of owl like golden eyes, was sitting across from Ron, a tall lanky boy with ivory skin and scarlet hair.

Why did he have to be so immature she was just trying to wipe his face after all. She thought maybe he might have sat there still considering the intimate setting. Ronald Weasley was just blind to her advances, she was near giving up. He was a good friend, much like Harry, but Hermione had thought maybe there was more between Ron and herself. Obviously not.

Here she was a slight blush to her face as her fingers gently pulled a damp face across Ron's cheeks. Ron on the other hand was content with pulling his face back and moaning at her. Saying that he was a big boy and if he wanted to have dirt on his face then he could have.
Ron pulling back from her was like a slap in the face. How more obvious could she be? Maybe she was being just too obvious and Ron thought she was being easy and that's why he didn't want her. Her eyes widened in horror at the thought, not that Ron noticed. Hermione was anything but a slut. She was a bright girl, brightest witch of her age and a virgin. She was no tramp by far. Her and Viktor admittedly kissed, but he was a lot older than her and she refused to do much more than that. Not because of the age difference, no not at all. She liked older men, she just didn't feel like being a fifteen year old sex symbol at the time.

She was snapped from her thoughts by the sound of Harry's voice, she looked up to see him standing arm in arm with Ron. What had he said? She stared at him for a moment trying to recall. When had Ron moved from her as well? Was her mind so fixated on how Ron felt about her that she wasn't even paying attention to the world? She almost cringed, what would people say if they found out Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age was in fact just a eighteen year old with hormones and wants?
'Hermione, I said me and Ron are going to get food, are you alright?" Harry's voice interrupted her blank stare.
Oh so that's what he wanted, She gave him a firm nod. She would set up camp for them coming back, but first she ought to put up the enchantments for protecting the camp. At the nod Harry and Ron apparated with a 'pop'. Hermione wasn't really offended being left at the camp, sometimes it was just Harry and her, or Just Ron and herself, the other person would stay and put up wards for their return. The password for those wards was always the same. One that only three of them knew.

Standing Hermione frowns, 'Stupid Ron', she kicked a nearby twig on the forest floor into the fire, 'Why can't he just sweep me off my feet?' The thought made her blush, the idea of Ron taking her in his arms and planting a kiss on her lips. well thats never going to happen she thought with a frown.

Thrusting her hand into her pocket she pulled out her wand and focused on the area around the camp. Just as she started to swish and flick, when she was taken a back.

Her golden brown eyes locked onto those of glacier blue, her voice caught in her throat. It was as if his gaze had captured her, turned her into stone itself. Who was this man a walking basilisk? As he leaned in close a smirk on his lips her breath hitched and she leaned back a little, relieved that she could in fact move, she darted her yes around the camp. Surrounded..she was surrounded. Oh no..Ron and Harry. She had to get these snatchers away. But how? She felt the panic rise in her stomach, her mouth going remarkably dry.

Harry needed to find those horcruxes. If he was caught now the whole wizarding world would suffer. Ron..she had to protect him, Merlin knows he can't protect himself. If not for the fear she would have smiled at that thought. She was Gryffindor. She was Brave.
Her eye fell back on the dare she think it, handsome man in front of her. He was closer now, a hand surprisingly gentle caressing her hair and bringing it to his nose before inhaling. She gulped.

'What's your name beautiful?' He asked with a moan at her scent. It was enough to make Hermione go a deep shade of red from embarrassment, especially as the other snatchers seemed to laugh in response.

'P..Penelope, Clearwater." She cleared her throat before snapping with some much-needed fire. "Half-blood."
His eyes seemed to shine with excitement as she showed him what fire she had.

'Check it.' He snorted to one of his cronies, before slithering a hand down her arm, encircling his hand around her wand wrist. She immediately jerked away and that only made him grasp tighter.

She had trembled a little at his touch, she told herself it was fear, her mind somewhat told her it was something else, but she had no time to linger on that thought. Flicking her hand as much as she could with his grip she scowled,
'Stupify' and with a burst of light she watched as those eyes that were once hardened, icy and somewhat suggestive, turned wide in fear and surprise. She smiled at this, He was too busy in his own lewd thoughts to realize she might fight back.

Her victory was short-lived however as a flash of heat spread across her back and fell to the ground eyes shutting closed on the way as the pain spread through her body, she could feel the tears in her eyes.
How stupid she had been, her own fear and anger from being touched by that man had sent her over the edge, she had attacked him. One his men must have hit her in response, and now harry and Ron were in danger..they could apparate back at any moment, and the snatchers would have them and it would all be her fault for not luring them away.
She was going to let out a sob as the tears in her eyes threatened to spill over but instead she was greeted by blackness, her thoughts lingering on Harry and Ron, and if she had doomed them.

How could she have been so stupid?