Disclaimer: Anything you recognize probably doesn't belong to me. All Harry Potter factors present in this story legally belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm not making money off of this. If I was I'd be able to afford a place to live.
Chapter 1: Just Tonight
Emilie was hidden behind the bushes in Midtown Park, down the road from her parents' house. It wasn't that she didn't want to see them, but lately it seemed like all they ever did was fight. They criticized everything she did. The only time she was ever able to find any sort of peace was here, behind these bushes, looking up at the night sky. Or there was hunting for her next target…but mostly it was the night sky. Emilie preferred the title of huntress over that of assassin. There was something about the look of surprise on the faces of her enemies when they realized who had defeated them…something about it that gave her a very satisfied feeling. They had a tendency to underestimate her. But there was nothing more relaxing that looking up at the stars.
"'ello, pet." A slightly slurred voice greets her, jerking her from her thoughts. It was a rare occurrence when someone could actually sneak up on her, let alone a drunk.
"What do you want?" She snaps, instinctively defensive.
He stumbled into a comfortable sitting position next to her and she quickly moved to her knees to gain the upper hand.
"Well, let's see 'ere, beau'iful. Wha' do I want? 'Ow about all the treasures kept secre' at Gringott's, a beau'iful woman naked in a king sized bed, all the firewhiskey in the city, an' a 'ouse big enough to 'old it all?"
"Who do think I am? Your fairy godmother?" She throws at him, studying his slouched form. He was obviously drunk and probably not a threat to her. His light brown hair hung in a mess around his smooth face. He had the prettiest blue-grey eyes she had ever seen, and they were emphasized by a dark eyeliner that encircled them. He looked a little odd with his black combat boots, tight plaid pants, and brown leather vest underneath his long dark jacket. But it was odd in a pleasant way. A nice change from the wizarding robes most people she knew wore. It looked like something she would wear.
"Unfortunately, pet, I don't 'ave a fairy godmother. Was pure luck tha' I stumbled into a witch as lovely as yourself." He replied easily, completely overlooking her hostile tone of voice before turning away from her and gagging into the bushes.
Emilie hesitated, but after a moment she sighed and moved to pull the hair out of his face. It took a couple of minutes for him to recover and pull back away from her. "Well, damn. I don' suppose you're the sor' of girl who thinks a sick drunk is someone to strip for, are you?"
"Not likely," She fights back a smirk, secretly amused by his attitude.
"Give me a bit. You'll change your mind…Don't suppose you 'ave a soberin' potion either, do you?" He asks, wiping his face with his sleeve.
"I don't make a habit of needing them," She answers simply.
"Tha's alrigh'. I just lost 'alf the alcohol in my system anyways." He groans, rearranging himself into a more comfortable position.
"What's your name?" Emilie asks curiously.
"The name is Scabior, an' I'm at your service. Well, 'spose not yet, but before the night's over you could experience the ecstasy of the services I provide, if you want, lovely?"
"You don't even know who I am." She objects, rolling her eyes.
"Wha's your name?"
"Emilie,"
"Now tha' I know you're Emilie, tha' whole 'I don' know who you are' bit is fixed. Wha' do you say now? You want to take me 'ome?" he grins playfully.
She laughs, shaking her head. She'd never met anyone so forward.
Emilie froze as familiar voice reached her ears from the other side of the bushes. She stealthily peeked over them and groaned when she caught sight of her mother. Looking for her no doubt. Emilie looked back at Scabior, studying him. She was a bit turned off by his drunkenness, but he was attractive. Much more attractive than the thought of being found by her mother.
"I have a better idea," She answers him, tilting her head to the side as she put her hand on his, "Why don' you take me home with you?"
"You're 'iding from someone," He says, much to her surprise. "Why?"
"How observant." She sighs with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Have you ever just not wanted to be found?"
"Every day," He says, turning his face away from her, but not before she saw the grimace of pain on his face.
Maybe there was a reason behind his excessive drinking. "Do you want to get lost with me?" She whispers, placing her hand on the side of his face and forcing him to look at her again.
"'elp me up and I can apparates us back to my place," He answers with a grin.
"I think you may be a bit too drunk to apparate," She frowns. She'd seen firsthand how badly a botched apparation could turn out.
"I've apparated with more alcohol in my system than this, pet. Trust me. I can get us 'ome." He insists, struggling to his feet.
She hesitated as he held out his hand to her. He'd thrown up, but his eyes didn't look glazed over and he was stumbling as badly as she'd expected him to. "Alright, but only for tonight."
"We'll see abou' tha'. You won't be able to get enough of me, love." He laughs, pulling her into him and apparating with a loud pop.
There was the usual sensation of being pulled through a tight hole, but after a moment they landed alright, still on their feet. They were standing next to a small Victorian house on the edge of town. Thankfully, she thought, nowhere near where her parents lived.
"Don' be shy," He urged her, taking a step back but not letting go of her hand as he started towards the door.
"This is your house?" She asks in surprise. It was nicer than she had expected. It looked old and a little worn. There were vines growing up the sides, but the age and the vines just made it more attractive to her. It wasn't what she was used to. She could get lost here for a while.
"Not too shabby, is it? Nicer on the inside than out 'ere." He assures her, opening the door with a wave of his wand and allowing her to step inside ahead of him. He came in behind her and the door clicked as it snapped shut.
She turned into him and moved her lips closer to his. He still smelled like firewhiskey. She put her hand on his chest and he covered it with his but clicked his tongue and kept her from getting any closer. "I'm not one to disappoint, love. I'm not currently in righ' state to make a proper seduction. I'm going to show you to the parlor, and then I'm goin' to clean myself up. Do you need anything in the mean time? Firewhiskey? Brandy?"
"What do you want from me?" She asks lightly.
"Only to please you," He answers seductively, pulling her hips into his. He grinned before turning her around to face a short corridor, "This way."
He led her to a small room with large sofa and a flickering fireplace that had a fur rug spread out in front of it. "I'll only a moment," He promises, "Make yourself comfortable." He disappeared down the corridor as she settled herself on the sofa and took in her surroundings.
His house felt dark, but not the bad kind. The comforting kind that held, protecting you from the light as you tried to sleep. Two of the walls were lined with bookshelves and the others were a dark mahogany color. It was the bookshelves that piqued her curiosity and she got up to examine them. They were all well-kept tombs, some of which were in different languages. She could tell that many of them concerned the dark arts. A few others were potions books or charms books. She ran her hand over a book written in French and froze a she felt a hand on her waist. Her instinct was to knock whoever had grabbed her from behind off their feet, but she fought it and slowly turned to face Scabior. He had gotten rid of most of his clothing, wearing only a thin black, log sleeved button up shirt and his plaid pants now. She was also pleased to find that he no longer smelled like throw up firewhiskey.
"Wha' do you think now tha' I'm not a sick drunk?" He asked playfully.
She laughs, "I'm wondering when you're going to live up to what you implied you could do," She teases.
He smiled for a moment before tilting his head at her. "Wha' are you runnin' away from?"
"Who said I was running away from anything?" She counters, slightly defensive.
"I found you 'iding behind some bushes, an' you didn't agree to go 'ome with me until you caught sight of someone you didn' wan' to see." He points out.
"Does it matter?" Emilie asks him, placing her hands on his chest and sliding them down to the edge of his pants.
"No…I 'spose not." He agrees, sounding a bit breathless as a bulge formed in his pants.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," She points out, pushing him back towards the sofa.
"Take them off me," He teases, presses his lips against her ear as his legs hit the back of the sofa. He slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his in a hard, pleading kiss. He was looking for something in her. Comfort? Companionship? She wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to find it if he expected it to last more than one night. She could give in tonight. Only tonight. And she meant to make the most of it.
She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of him before reaching down to his pants. He slipped his hand underneath hers and reached up to unclasp her bra, cupping her breast in his hand and brushing his fingernail over her nipple. She gasped, pulling her shirt up over her head and letting the bra drop off her arms, exposing herself to him.
"Tha's it, pet," He breathed, dropping his mouth down to her breast and grazing her nipple with his teeth, "I'll make it worth your while."
Her hands slipped over his back and up into his hair as she let her head fall back in pleasure. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to just feel him. His lips moved to her other breast as his hands found her pants and pushed them down. They fell to her ankles and he turned her around and pushed her back onto the sofa. She brushed her fingers over the bulge in his pants and he groaned, pressing back against her.
"Take them off me," He repeated, his voice growing low and husky in a way that made her almost dizzy with desire. She wasted no time in obliging him and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking him.
He groaned and grabbed at her knickers, the only thing left blocking him from what he wanted. He pulled them down her hips and let her kick them off before pressing his fingers into the heat between her legs. She was ready for him.
"Scabior," She gasped, spreading her legs wider apart and arching up into him.
He laughed softly, "Didn' I tell you tha' you wouldn' be able to get enough of me"
"Shut up and take me," She demands, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his lips back to hers in a deep kiss. He slipped the tip of his tongue into her mouth and allowed it to dance with hers as he positioned himself at her entrance.
"Is this what you want?" He teases, playfully.
"More," She breathed, pressing against him so that the tip of him slid into her. His eyes grew dark and he growled softly before thrusting up into her. She held his gaze, loving the way his eyes had clouded over. He held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his size. She was tight around him and it was the best he'd felt in a long time. He couldn't hold himself back for long, and soon he'd found a rhythm. She moved against him, slipping her hands down to his lower back and urging him to go faster, deeper. He lost control, pounding into her frantically until his eyes flickered shut as a wave of ecstasy flew through him and into her. He inner muscles tightened around his shaft in a climax and she held him to her tightly, as though she were afraid he would disappear. He pressed his forehead against hers and grinned. They were slick with sweat, and he was just getting started.
"You, love, are a beau'iful naked woman, but you're not in my bed…yet." He laughed.
"You can go more than once?" She asked in surprise, "Don't you need to rest?"
"We're jus' getting started, pet. Didn' I promise to make this worth your while?" He pointed out, getting to his feet and helping her stand. She was still a little shaky from what had just occurred between them.
"Show me your bedroom," She demands seductively, moving her mouth close to his and cupping his balls in her hand, "I'll make it worth your while,"
"Vixen," He growls, taking her hand and quickly leading her in the direction of his private chambers. She wouldn't be the first witch who'd found their way into his bed, but none of them suited him for long afterwards. She was different. He was going to keep this one.
Scabior groaned as his eyes flickered open, slowly adjusting to the light streaming in through the window. Heated memories from the night before flooded his mind and sent sparks straight towards his groin. He closed his eyes again, rolling over and reaching for the witch who had somehow branded herself into his mind rather than just onto his body. When his hand found nothing but cold morning air his eyes shot open and he quickly sat up, looking around the room for her. She was gone.
