[chapter UPDATE, but the info at the beginning was mostly left as it had been before.. for historical reason]
This is a completely new one. Wow. Well, not exactly, but - uhm, not for me. It's going to have several chapters and some of them are going to be quite long (but i know that it won't be any record among fanfictioners) and I kind of... worked on it for more than a half a year. And yeas, I have it finished (at a certain level) in my computer. That's why it took so long, I wanted it to be finished first, so that I don't eventually leave it here unfinished later (not that I would expect crowds of disappointed fans, but I just didn't want to commit such a crime :-D) [UPDATE note: *ironic sneer in the background*] and also I wanted to have some kind of a global overview first, so that I avoid as many logical mistakes as possible... so I'll gradually rewrite it and publish, hopefully :-D I rewrote this first part like seven hundred times [UPDATE note: seven hundred one]. And still I don't like it :-D (no, okay, I wouldn't publish something I didn't like at all)
The story is pretty weird. So that's warning number one. I think I'll have to rate it "M" for there are many (many many and MANY) impolite words, but I must say there are no *youknowwhatimean* scenes, i don't claim I am innocent, but it just didn't lead to it, sorry :-D
The impolite words are caused by the main characters, cause i couldn't imagine them speaking otherwise (yes! yes! their fault, not mine!) and I think that maybe some people won!t like it uhm... so sorry to those, I couldn't help.
They are Scabior and Greyback and actually that's even in the description, isn't it, never mind...
In this story I tried to pretend that I follow the book more than the movie (however, let's be sincere, would i really notice Scabior without a certain eye-liner-adaptation?), it goes like this - Grey was the leader and Scabior was just one of the Snatchers. I got inspired by one scene from the book, when they catch the trio, Scabior is the only one who tries to prevent Grey from eating Hermione and Fenrir - obeys it. Which was kind of surprising for me, because I always imagined Greyback as a bastard, whom no one can tell waht to do and Scabior is in the book usually understood as a casual emplyee, oh, wait, he can search in the list.
So my idea was - why would someone like Grey listen to someone like Scabior?
No conspiracy theories, just some... [UPDATE this part of the info was really weird so it was censored by the government] just some guys talking, being silent and eating (not each other, surprisingly).
However, I took something from the movie, too - the bridge scene - and I also added something - Grey was on the bridge, too.
To be hones I made them both quite freaky and probably having some serious problems, especially Scab, I get kind of evil once I start writing :-D maybe while rewriting, they'd become a little less insane. I hope so.
Well, here we are. Be good to me, please!
Oh and I don't own them, they belong to the great great woman, who doesn't have to be named :-)
Hope it's not a complete crap, uhm, sorry, I mean, hope you like it :-)
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Scabior's end. Don't miss our prospects, they are at the entrance. Thank you for your attention.
The man in a sparkling violet suit gives last one of his white-teethed smiles and leaves, why would he stay, when even the sound of the applause he was waiting for is vanishing in groaning of the collapsing bridge. Collapsing bridge?
The man looks a little like Frank Sinatra, but it's Gerald Bottle from the town, creepy aging idol of sentimental aging housewives, but he must be dead already, or..?
Scabior, wake the fuck up. Scabior. Hey.
Hey, Scabior, that's me. You've got into some crazy shit this time, mate. Like really, haven't I told you? Don't you hang around with that guy, he doesn't have any nose, you see? He's fucked up, too, I suppose.
Who the hell are you?
Try to guess.
What..?
I'm like a mirror, just showing the left and right the way they are supposed to be. But there's not much left and even fewer right about us.
What – what the hell are you talking about and – and what the hell happened to your face?
Not my fault, mate. You should wake up, it's a shame to miss your last seconds.
HOLY SHIT, NO, NO, NO, FUCK!
The hell was that? The hell...
Sweetie. You really shouldn't run away from your problems.
The fuck, woman, you're dead, the hell are you doin here?!
Waitin for you, honey. Don't forget your coat, it's cold here, you know?
I have my fucking coat on!
This is not what your body would stand.
What the hell do you know about that?!
I'm your mother, I know you better than anyone. And death better than you do. Still. Wake up, sweetie, don't make the same mistakes as I have.
THE HELL IS THAT, NO, NO, IT CAN'T BE TRUTH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK...
His mind turns into one big wild heartbeat. The rest turned into falling. The rest is streaks and fright. The wind is probably trying hard to tear his face apart. It would make a funny photo.
NO, NO, PLEASE, NOT LIKE THIS!
You – are – fucked.
Oh, jeez, that's you...
It's always been me. I've been born myself. I've died myself, too.
Stop that crap, will you? You are laughing, aren't you?
Yeah. You – are – fucked. You – are – fucked. You – are –
Shut up!
Then he saw the man. He was screaming as he did, he was somehow familiar and he was dashing towards him from the opposite direction. He had a similar coat on. He was a water reflection, indeed.
...
For a moment he couldn't see anything. The pain ran all through his body like a curse, the water surface seemed as hard and solid as a stone, but it wasn't, because then he felt that it's consuming him and as he opened his eyes, there were just foul brownish clouds all around him; it was stingy, he was blinking for a few seconds and then he saw, that the brown was mixing with some red this time, christ, his leg must've been on fire.
You – are – fucked.
Go fuck yourself, you little know-it-all.
He was waving his hands as hard as he could, it looked a little like some sort of a chicken dance. If someone laughed at him, he wouldn't know about it, cause in this muddy universe without borders nothing could be heard, but deep droning, its monotony was crushing his head, or was it the water above him?
He looked up. He could see the waves, the psychedelic pattern of water surface, of the fateful border between the water and the air, border of survival. He knew it's up there, he knew that his life is awaiting him there and only there, him to breath it in, to get out of this shit, and if he gets out of it, he will definitely give up snatching and become a poet instead.
The breeze was there, as if waiting for him, as if saying, hello, just taste the sweet me, first it touched his nose, then the whole face, his eyes widened at the feeling and then he finally and desperately breathed in as if he wanted to consume all the oxygen in the atmosphere.
And the first thing he used the inbreathed air for was...
"MOTHER OF FUCK!"
And then he started to cough. Well, he probably was capable of poetry only in the state of emergency.
The rapture of using lungs was soon to be replaced with cold. And, which was even more important, with thinking again. Come on, be a Snatcher. Nothing you wouldn't solve. Nothing you wouldn't survive. The bank seemed to be quite close, just few yards at the most. Very well. Just cut your leg off and swim.
But there were more problems to appear, those quite unexpected ones. For at the very moment someone grabbed his shoulder.
"Scabior!"
"Whatblbbblblblbllblblbllllbbbcough cough cough, Greyback, the hell you think you're doing, go fuck yourself, you idiot, get your fuckin stinky hand out of me blbllblblblblblblblblblblbcough cough cough, you'll kill me, you, blllblblblbllblblblbbb, the hell?!"
He managed to get rid of Greyback's grip, the werewolf started to smack the water around himself and obviously was trying hard to reach any part of Scabior's body. He failed at that, there were other things, though, like the edge of Scabior's coat.
Thank you, Mum.
You are welcome, sweetie.
„Jesus Christ, Greyback! Do you wanna kill me or what?!"
„Sca... Scabior..."
There was an unusual despair and fright in Greyback's face. It was quite surprising that it had any expression.
„Scabior, I..." for a while he disappeared under the water, Scabior hesitated briefly, as he was considering what this weird stuff was all about, then, when Greyback didn't show up again, he turned around and wanted to go on swimming, but realised, that the idiot, whom Scabior presumed to be dead, was still holding his coat.
„Okay, keep it if you like it!"
He was getting quite weak. His leg was still hurting and so was the rest of his body, actually. He started to feel dizzy.
„Scabior!" a pleading rattle sounded behind him. „I cannot swim!"
„Are you fuckin kiddin me?!"
„I blbllblblblblbllblbblbl I really cannot blbllblblblbllbblblbl Scabior blblblblblbllblb Scabblbllblblblblbllb..."
„And what the hell am I supposed to do with that?! Save your stinky life yourself, I'm not your fuckin mother!"
Unfortunately he realised that Greyback was way too keen on surviving to let Scabior survive himself.
„Okay, you hairy bastard, if you kill me, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life blbllblbllblblbllblblblblbl! Just move at least your fucking legs, I can't carry us both blblbllblblblbllblbblblb, I'm not working properly, since I've been falling down that castle, have you noticed?! Blblbllblblblblbblbllbbllb..."
„How does one do that?!"
„What?!"
„Swim, the hell could I mean?!"
„Holy crap, just kick around yourself and you'll figure that out, but quickly, you big bulldog!"
„When we get to the bank I'll kick the fuck out of you!"
„That doesn't make me quite happy to save your ass, does it?"
„Bllblblbllblblbllblblblbllblblb."
„Got the message. Hey, you, swimming is about keepin your head above water, know that?!"
He was sitting on the bank, breathing heavily. They were. Actually, Greyback was more like lying, but still.
What do you say now, huh? Can you hear me?
But no one answered. Greyback spoke instead.
"Fuck them bastards, cough cough cough, it can hardly walk and talk and cough cough cough, I'd cut his head off like cork from the bottle with my own fuckin hands."
Scabior didn't react. At this moment he terribly desired to do exactly the same with Greyback himself. But he knew that it would probably end up with his head being somewhere in Manchester. He was exhausted, everything hurt him, but he was alive. Good job. He will never ever drink water again, though (not that he drank it very often). The castle was on fire on many places. Lights of various colours were emitted out of its windows and explosions and shrieks could be heard.
„So, nice to have met you, Greyback, but I think we should be leaving now. Our lord is in some serious trouble, right? No offence but I'm not very keen on seeing your ugly face ever again in my life and furthermore, it's much easier to get lost, when you're alone. So, have a nice day and go fuck yourself. And learn to swim."
„I'd tear your body apart in five seconds."
„One more reason to leave."
He tried to stand up and found out that it won't be that easy, for at the very moment, he shifted his weight on a certain leg, he briefly, but seriously considered offering it to Greyback for dinner – then, for the sake of the rest of his body, he changed his mind.
„Oh, fuck..."
„What?"
„Nothin."
He straightened his back and stretched his arms. Then he tried to figure out some proper excuse, so that he could stay for a few more moments, because it will surely take just a few seconds till his awwww fuckin leg will be all right, just a moment, minute or two at the most, or three, crap – then he remembered. Brilliant.
"I must've lost my wand when I was falling down. Actually, I dropped it right at the beginning."
Greyback didn't answer, he was too focused on scratching his hairy forearm with his teeth. Scabior didn't try to understand the being and made a few steps to look around, pressing his lips in order to prevent any single hiss of pain from leaving his mouth.
"Fuck. I'm not likely to find it, I suppose. There is some terrible crap in that water. So," he turned to the dead body of one of the Snatchers, who, in his bad luck, fell about one meter next to the lake, or whatever it was. He held a short dark brown wand with a few scratches all over its surface. "This must be yours, right? You won't need it anymore," he picked it up with a little trouble, the boy, yes it was still a boy, was holding it surprisingly tight, considering that he was dead. Scabior took a proper look at him. "Oh, jeez. Look, Greyback, it's Jerry."
"Who's Jerry?"
"That guy with that shit all over his face. The most teenage teenager I've ever seen. Once he ate all the cookies in five minutes, remember?"
"No."
"Well, it must've been during the full moon."
"Scabior?"
"Yeah?"
"The hell are you talkin about? Just take the fuckin wand and go."
"Oh, yeah. Sure. That's what I will do. And you? When are you leavin?"
"None of your business."
"Gonna eat some pretty young girls?"
"Get lost."
"Sorry, just askin."
To Scabior's horror Greyback, whose air passages seemed to have got rid off all liquid already, sniffed a little, as if he noticed something, and then gave an evil smile – actually, after all those years it was the only kind of smile Greyback was capable of, so far Scabior knew.
"You are nervous," the werewolf remarked.
"As you were in the water," he shot back.
"If you ever tell anyone, I'll find you and slowly tear your body apart with my own teeth, beginning with your toes and goin on so that you'll be conscious as long as possible."
"You've been thinkin about it quite a lot, haven't you?"
"Go."
"Not your employee anymore, right?"
Instead of an answer Greyback turned to Scabior sharply and took a deep growl.
"See you," Scabior said quickly and made the first step, finally. Not that he would be afraid of Greyback. He was just kind of unsure about such a weird creature hanging around, a creature who, for some reason he didn't want to know, appeared from time to time with an unknown red liquid on his teeth. A werewolf, you'd say. But, actually, it didn't have anything in common with the moon phases.
But no, he wasn't afraid of him. His attitude was way more rational, for sure. He just knew, that if Greyback became hungry, he wouldn't hesitate too long to eat him and he just didn't like the idea, that was all. He just knew, that it was not clever to make friends with werewolves. Especially with this one.
Greyback – lord, was he weird. Was he crazy! A real nut. Sometimes Scabior wondered if he still was human. But in some way he had to admire him – well, you would admire anyone who was able to say at least one sensible sentence if you were surrounded by such idiots.
Scabior was never bashful to say that he had joined the Snatchers, because he was clever. The majority of his fellows, he would add then, joined the Snatchers, because they were idiots who were for no good for any other job.
Greyback didn't speak a lot (he preferred growling) but his silence was much cleverer than speaking of the others. He was quite a good leader, too. A real freak, yeah, but he was very good at finding jobs which combined a possibility to earn some money for the guys and to drink some fine warm innocent blood for him.
Well, sometimes he became too wild. He just – couldn't stop himself from having fun, right? First Scabior didn't care about it, but later he realized, that if their leader wouldn't just – try hard to control his passions, it might noticeably suppress their earnings and that was something he couldn't allow. So, he, shyly and protecting his head with anything he could reach at the moment, tried to decently notify Greyback that if he kills even this mudblood, they probably won't get their Galleons.
To his surprise, Greyback not only didn't throw him to the continental Europe, but he even considered Scabior's advice and then – obeyed it. Well, not that he would just obey it as it was, he probably only woke up from his affect and started to think rationally again. And Scabior was satisfied, because he got his money. Of course.
Okay, he was afraid of him. In fact, he was terrified, but just got used to it, kind of, what he couldn't get used to was Greyback's way of unconditional violence, the way he committed it, the way he enjoyed it, the way it looked – well, let's stop for now.
What was important – he didn't want to let him know about his leg, he has heard too much about the predators choosing the weak ones. Yet it was quite difficult, because he couldn't help hobbling terribly. It hurt. Jeez, it hurt like hell. He tried hard to step as carefully as possible but it didn't help very much. Greyback was still silent. Scabior was slow as a tortoise on holiday. Well, maybe he hadn't noticed? Maybe Frank Sinatra was a Quidditch player?
From his anxious thoughts something even more unpleasant interrupted him.
Some days, or months, or even years ago, an absolutely and inexcusably irresponsible person, whose job was to take care about the school's surroundings, didn't even bother to do something with this little, but not clearly visible, and therefore very tricky hollow in the way, not caring about poor injured criminals, who could possibly intend to leave the castle unseen one day. One of such a kind appeared here accidentally and accidentally didn't see the hollow and accidentally his leg twisted and the pain went all through his body, as he was falling down like a demolished building (a good day for falling, really).
"Fuck..."
Well, this was funny.
Scabior was lying on the ground for a moment, with his fingers sinking into the pulpy soil around the lake, thinking what on earth had he done to whom and then realizing that this would make quite a long list.
Hey, you've got into some crazy shit this time, mate. Literally.
He stopped trying hard to give a name to his situation, because none of those which came up to his mind were nice. The nameless situation was still here to be solved, though. He hasn't suffered any injury worth mentioning for the last seven years (oh, apart from that New Year's Eve two years ago, he would laugh, but then he remembered that he's fucked), so he almost couldn't remember what it was like. What pain was like and what incapability of anything was like and what having a maniac behind his back being so vulnerable – oh, wait, he had never experienced the last one before.
He though that maybe he could act like nothing happened, stand up and go on walking, yes, that's it, he would be dignified and elegant, like a Slytherin, like a sir. That would be it if he was capable of standing up. He couldn't hear anything apart from some absent-minded humming of the wind, Greyback probably hasn't decided to leave yet.
Scabior coughed and proclaimed loudly: "I am fine! Everything's all right, I... did that on purpose!" not expecting any reaction apart from some grimace which he fortunately wouldn't be able to see.
One more try. He tensed all his muscle and lifted himself on his arms a little, then some bastard stabbed his hip joint trough with a basilisk's tooth, but there was no tooth in his leg, nor any bastard behind him (apart from a certain werewolf), it was still just his favourite injury. He heard something between a gasp and a whine, sounding almost like a quiet cry of an angry child and then he surprisedly realized that it was him, who breathed out this rather desperate sound.
He whispered something impolite and tried hard to pull his left hand out of the mud a little, since it sank so deep already that he could tickle Australian Governor-General on his foot. By way of contrast, the one which appeared right in front of him at the very moment, shod in a tattered and stinky old boot, didn't awaken any desire of such a kind in him.
He found himself being enclosed by Greyback's shadow, unclear in the evening gloom, clear enough to make him feel uneasy. He hypnotized the mud and the mud didn't react at all.
"You seem to be in some trouble, aren't I mistaken?"
Oh, fuck that jerk!
"You havin fun?"
He looked up at him and now as he was lying on the ground, Greyback looked even taller, so to say larger, so to say, monstrous.
The giant grinned and then, surprisingly, he sighed.
"We should leave."
"Yes, thank you Mr. Obvious, but – we?"
A sudden flash of green light ran from one of the castle's towers all over their faces, it briefly visited their eyes and then left them, resulting just in a little spark of fear. Then their eyes met, with kind of a funny resemblance of uneasiness, adapted to the expressions their criminal faces have frozen in many years ago, each in their own way. Then Greyback smirked again.
"Come on, Scabior. Gimme your hand and let's go."
What?
Scabior?
He really said this. No he didn't. Now, that'd be crazy. Wouldn't it?
Scabior, the hell are you thinkin about?
That was a bad argument, for at the moment he definitely wasn't thinking at all.
If you do this, I will never talk to you again. Scabior, I mean it, I won't be able to! Scabior..?
"Scabior?"
Red light. Some explosion. Some shrieks. Violet light. Some pain. Some fear. No idea.
He helped him to stand up and they set out.
...
It would sound funny, if they said it aloud, even though they didn't speak at all anyway, however, they really were heading from the castle together. Greyback supported Scabior from the left and the Snatcher, now using his common sense a little again, was trying hard to think up some way he could survive in case Greyback would get hungry. That freaking leg, he probably won't be able to walk properly for some more time, some of his muscle seemed to be slightly torn and the hip joint also wasn't all right. And he was bleeding on a lot of places, but, as he noticed, Greyback was, too.
"Well, uhm... I suppose it will take some time till I am able to walk properly, but... I'll try at least somehow to walk myself, right? So, uhm... I mean, it's not necessary that you carry me the whole way..."
Greyback didn't answer and went on walking.
'Okay...' Scabior thought and sighed.
"Where are we going, actually?"
"To the Forbidden Forest."
"Why?"
"They won't look for us there."
"Right."
They were moving slowly but in a few minutes they reached the edge of the woods. The trees were watching them suspiciously and grumpily, yes they were.
"Not a friendly place, huh?"
"Good place to hide."
"Yeah, sure. I've been there once. It's a weird place. But that is a match for you."
Greyback growled quietly.
"I'm quiet. Let's go."
The noise of the battle reached them just in echoes. Then they entered the woods.
Scabior was sitting at the bottom of an old maple tree, watching the flames he created about half an hour ago. It was strange – he knew the forest at night being just dark and cold, which concerned even the colours, all the time just green and blue and grey and one just looked around and felt cold immediately. The fire coloured the surroundings in warm golden-orange – it coloured even Greyback's wolfish face. Even the face of...
The hell are you doin here?!
If I were you, I'd be happy, we're still here.
Okay, look who was right in the end?
If you want to stay alive, I'd recommend you to say this guy good bye as soon as possible.
Well, I know but... he still didn't kill me, right?
Meat is better fresh.
Very fuckin funny.
"Hey. Hey, Scabior."
"Uhm... what?"
"You looked as if you were high or something."
"That's what I look like very often. You know me, don't you?"
Greyback gave him a doubtful look, or Scabior presumed it was meant to be doubtful, since after the years of balancing between human and animal, Fenrir's face was more predatory than anything, regardless of the situation.
"You're weird," he remarked finally.
"Look who's saying that," Scabior answered, but didn't dare to speak loud.
"Your smell is weird."
"What..?"
Greyback didn't answer and there was silence for a moment, mainly because he tried hard to get something from his teeth with a knife. Then he stood up and moved off.
"Hey, where are you goin?"
"I can smell some doe in that direction," the werewolf smirked showing his teeth in the unpleasant smile, "I became quite hungry..."
"Oh... oh, ok."
"What."
"What – oh, nothin, just... most people don't smell does in the woods.."
"And?"
"I mean... no offence, but how do you tell if you're still human and not already an... an animal?"
Greyback, whose face was hidden from Scabior's sight again, stopped, the Snatcher couldn't say, but he might have heard a smirk.
"Look at your hairy back and then tell me some difference," the werewolf said finally.
Scabior wanted to say that he can't take a look at his back, but he didn't manage to, also, he couldn't avoid a strange feeling that Greyback's words were more than a stupid joke (like Greyback talking about someone being hairy...).
Later that evening (Scabior wasn't able to fall asleep without knowing what Greyback was doing) he returned with a dead doe, its throat looked... well, not very healthy.
Scabior was starving. He resisted for long but in the end he took one piece. But, unlike his companion, he didn't eat the meat raw.