The other Snatchers knew very well what Greyback did with Scabior when he beckoned for him to come behind the trees with him. For one thing, it wasn't ever hard to guess what Greyback was doing. He had three lanes of thought: gold, food, and sex. For another, they could hear. They could hear leaves rustling and twigs scratching flesh. And they could hear their moaning and panting.
There was a certain disagreement among the Snatchers about what was the best course of action. One man suggested they be left to it – there was not much in the way of female company, after all, unless you counted the young Mudbloods. And he wasn't going to lower himself to that, thankyouverymuch. Another suggested they tell them to knock it off – because Greyback and Scabior were not unwilling to lower themselves to that level, and were missing out on no female company, and the rest of them didn't need to hear that. It was simply monstrous. Another – and this suggestion was quashed almost immediately with groans of disgust all around – put forward the idea that the remaining Snatchers join in the apparent fun.
They decided on the second option. "Oi," said the boldest of them (whose name was Karl) to Scabior one evening, when he had emerged from the bushes looking rather tousled. "You wanna pack that in, or what?"
"I dunno what you're talking about," said Scabior, with an almost believable nonchalance – it could have fooled anyone were it not for the fact he had twigs in his hair.
"Y'know," said Karl, "that. It's puttin' us off our dinners."
"I can assure you I've no idea what you're talkin' about, and even if I did, you ain't gotta listen, do you, you pervert?" Scabior raised a hand to rake through his hair – it was a perpetual mess – he was a perpetual mess – but now there were leaves and bits of dirt in it. The collar of his shirt was shifted slightly, revealing a large purplish bite mark. Karl stared at it, and Scabior hastily covered it up again.
"Does 'e bite ya?" asked Karl, with what was almost concern.
"Yeah," said Scabior with a shrug. "'E's bloody vicious."
Karl lowered his voice conspiratorially. "We could take 'im down if we worked together, y'know."
Scabior raised his eyebrows and gave the other Snatcher a quizzical look. "I don't think 'e'd like you sayin' that, mate."
"No," said Karl, his voice still the same level, "but if 'e's abusin' one of us, that ain't right, and we don't wanna work for 'im. We could fight 'im, Scab—"
"Nah," said Scabior. "Don't bother. 'E's alright, really. I kinda like it."
"You... like it?"
"Yeah. Them Mudblood girls aren't 'alf as feisty as I thought they'd be, what with the thrill of bein' on the run and all. I like it rough now and again. And besides, I've always 'ad – ah – a certain affinity for woodland creatures."
"And they're clearly a little too fond of you..." muttered Karl, as Scabior gave him a wink and sauntered off.
Written for the OTP, minor characters, original characters, favourite character and character trait Boot Camps with the prompts vicious, bruise, fight and sleazy.
