(Here is a new fanfiction I'm working on: Snatched but Not Broken!)
You would think that in the midst of a war, no one would be outside, walking around without a care in the world. You'd think wrong. That's the thing about living with muggles. They are so blissfully unaware, so wrapped up in their own meager lives, that they don't even notice the bigger picture. People are disappearing left and right, but the police only suspect some sort of gang kidnapping fiasco. No one thinks to investigate further, but merely send out a warning to all citizens.
I have much more sense and know better than to accuse measly gang members. I'm lucky, too, to be learned in the magical arts because it helps me sleep better at night. But because my parents- muggles- ignorantly ignore my claims of war, I am stuck walking home in the middle of the night. Okay, it was partially my fault for missing the last bus, but that is entirely beside the point. My parents insist that a man with a name that sounds more like a fungus- Voldemort, if you didn't realize- couldn't possibly be threatening the world. Their naivety even outweighs the proof I've presented to them. So here I am, walking home from my grandmother's house at night, practically asking to be snatched away. In my defense, I am pretty good with a wand, so good luck to those who try to snatch me.
The fact that half the town's power is out and the streets are pitch black does not help my paranoia. I could simply light my wand, but then it would be like a beacon in the dark saying, "Hey, look at me! I'm a muggleborn!" Yeah, doesn't help my case at all. So, I kept walking, pretending that every noise didn't make me want to piss my pants.
"Hello."
I screamed, very loudly and very much terrified. A pair of rough hands restrained me and choked me off mid-scream. I reached frantically for my wand but that had been removed from my back pocket before I even had registered what happened. Damn, there went my use of magic. Wandless magic was practically impossible. The familiar lumos spell was muttered and a blue-ish light illuminated me and my attackers.
The man that stood in front of me towered over my shrimpy five foot, but that wasn't saying much. Everyone towered over me. He had brown hair, from what I could tell. It was scraggly and in need of a good cut. And he had blue eyes, extremely bright blue eyes. I couldn't quite see the man who had hold of me, but I knew he was big. Scarily big. The rest were dirty looking but I couldn't make out individual descriptions. They were a motley crew, typical Snatchers.
"Ah, hello there, lovely," Blue-eyes crooned to me. He twirled my eleven inch, water chestnut and unicorn hair wand in his long fingers as his eyes scanned my figure.
"Now you obviously are not muggle, are ya'? I'll need your pretty lil' name though," he walked closer, thrusting the lighted wand in my face.
My name. My name for their list- muggles, mudbloods and probably half-bloods. I knew what would happen next: I'd be carted away to the Ministry, stripped of my wand, and sent to Azkaban like all of the others. This was what Snatchers did for a living; selling people for money. Jesus, I felt like I was trapped in World War II- Voldemort was scarily similar to Hitler.
"Oh, now don't be like that, darlin'," he tsked when I didn't answer. His calloused hand slid down my face, pinching my cheek, "All's I need is a name."
"Clementine," I muttered. I might've well told him the truth; I was going to Azkaban either way.
"More than that; last name too," his blue eyes bore into my hazel ones expectantly.
"Clementine McGuff," I spat through gritted teeth.
"An Irish lass?" Blue-eyes grinned like a Cheshire cat, "You don't have much of an accent, lovely."
"I wasn't raised in Ireland, you git," I hissed angrily, straining against the man who held me. This dolt was really getting under my skin.
"That fiery red-headed personality precedes ya', don't it?" he grinned, ignoring my obvious insult.
"Found her on the list, Scabior," a bald headed man interrupted.
"Clementine Andrea McGuff: age nineteen, went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry previously: Hufflepuff House; muggleborn."
"You'll sure fetch for a pretty penny, won't ya'?" Scabior leaned in towards me, a malicious leer lighting up his face.
I decided not to answer that. It was a rhetorical question anyways. Nothing happened right away, no movement or words. I stared at Scabior and him at me. Suddenly I felt a nose brush the back of my neck.
"Can we play with her first, boss?" my captor growled, "She smells delicious: cinnamon and sugar."
Fear clenched my gut until I felt like I was going to be sick. He smelled me. And "play with me"? He might've well said "Can I rape her to my heart's content?"
"There would be nothin' left o' her, Greyback, once you were through," Scabior sneered, twisting my wand around.
"I'll be gentle," Greyback grinned into my hair, inhaling sharply.
"Bring her back to camp," Scabior instructed, ignoring Greyback's request, "We'll take her to the Ministry tomorrow."
I was shoved roughly in the back, knocking me forward a few steps. Obviously a cue to walk. I didn't have the faintest idea where their camp was, but I knew it had to be close if we were going to walk there. I tried to create a little space between me and Greyback but he kept a tight rein on me. We had been walking for a few minutes before I felt the familiar sensation of Apparation. I was sucked away, far away, from my family. We landed in a forest, crunching on sticks and leaves as our feet hit the ground. I tripped and stumbled on the unfamiliar ground but Greyback never once broke stride.
"Home sweet home," Scabior announced as a few ragged tents came into view.
"Impressive, ain't it, beautiful?" I looked over to see Scabior smirking at me.
A dim fire light glow illuminated the camp, giving off enough light for one to get around without killing themselves on anything.
"Just magnificent." I made sure to keep my tone flat.
"She'll be sleepin' in my tent," He informed Greyback, who grunted in response.
Greyback dragged me by my arms over and into the biggest tent. The inside was a lot larger than the outside, as to be expected. It wasn't as horrible as I imagined. The tent was rather plain with a few personal items scattered here and there. I was thrown onto a thin mattress just as Scabior entered the tent.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he spread his arms out wide, shooing Greyback away curtly.
The huge man shuffled out of the tent, shooting a glare at Scabior and I was left alone with the leader of the Snatchers.
"I hope this is all to your likin'," he snickered, looking at me pointedly.
"Like a dream castle," I snapped, crossing my arms.
Scabior raised an eyebrow and strode towards me. One calloused hand grasped my chin and pulled my face upwards to look at him.
"That pretty lil' mouth will get ya' into some trouble," he ran a finger over my lips and was rewarded with a sharp bite.
He jerked his hand away, examining the mark and laughing softly. I was glaring triumphantly until his hand came down across my face. The blow was hard enough to jerk my head to the side.
"You sure are a spitfire." He muttered, looking down at me.
I didn't really know what to say or do. Sure, I had asked for that slap, but I hadn't really expected him to do it. He didn't seem like the violent type. Before I could do anything else, his hand wrapped around my upper arm. He pulled me up onto my feet; I was sure that there would be bruises there tomorrow.
"You understand that I expect you to act like a good little girl while you're here?" Scabior's voice came out calm and quiet.
I stared at him, my hazel eyes wide. I didn't really want to provoke him anymore, so I simply nodded my head obediently.
"Good," he patted the side of my face roughly, "You sleep there."
He pointed over to where a small cot was rolled out across the floor. I yanked my arm away from him and trudged over. The cot was thin and uncomfortable- not that I had expected any better. Without another word to the Snatcher, I laid down, facing away from him. I was scared and tired, knowing that I was going to be sold away tomorrow. My life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.
As my eyelids began to droop, I heard Scabior's voice crow softly,
"Oh my darlin',
Oh my darlin',
Oh my darlin', Clementine,
You are lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine."
A shiver went down my spine as I realized how true those normally cheerful song lyrics were about to become.
(Chapter One = complete. Please review!)