10.

Hermione

Hermione waited, her fingers clinging tightly to each other and eyes flickering over Scabior's face, trying desperately to decode the puzzle of emotions that crossed it. It wasn't like she'd planned on confronting him about the night before. In fact, she'd figured that it would remain unspoken between them. But the question of whether all he'd said before he had kissed her must have been bothering her more than she'd realized, because it seemed as soon as he sat down on the couch, it was all she could think about. Now she waited rather impatiently, wanting to know if what he'd said was true or not. Which answer she was hoping for, she wasn't sure. But an answer, nonetheless, would be good.

After what seemed like an eternity, Scabior slowly uncrossed his legs and braced his hands on his knees, waiting a moment before turning his body and facing Hermione who was facing him. If she shifted an inch, their legs would have been touching.

"I 'aven' been completely 'onest with you." He began, and his eye brows pulled together as he concentrated on the ground. "About a lot o'things."

Hermione felt something inside of her bubbling. She knew it was the excitement, the anticipation of finally knowing everything. "Well, tell me. I deserve to know."

Without warning, Scabior was suddenly on his feet, pacing the room in front of her. "It's complicated." He explained with a frustrated tone, rubbing at his forehand with the palm of his hand and turning his back to her so he was talking to the darkened window. "I don' really know where to start."

"How about the beginning?" she suggested quietly. "I want you to tell me everything."

"Fine. Jus'…give me a second."

He remained silent in front of the window, his hands braced on the glass and eyes pointed at something deep in the midst of the rain storm. From her seat on the couch, Hermione just barely see his face, but it was enough to be able to recognize the conflicting emotions that were fighting for dominance in his expression. His jaw worked quietly, clenching and unclenching, and then he spoke, his voice quieter than Hermione had anticipated.

"I 'ave never met anyone like you, Granger. You 'ave no idea the effect you 'ave on a person, 'specially me, and I don' think you ever will." He gave a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. "You're too perfect, you know tha'? Everythin' about you is jus' so perfect, it's incredible. Your smell was wha' caught my attention that day in the woods. Without even bein' able t'see you, I knew you were different. An' I was right. You're not like other girls, 'Ermione. You've seen more now than some witches will ever see in their entire lives and yet you're still so innocent. Tha's wha' got me; 'ow innocent you are. Even now, despite knowin' all you've been through, I still feel like I 'ave to protect you.

'I took your scarf that day partially because we 'ad to find you three, but also because I wanted to 'old onto that scent. It was wha' kept me up at night, wha' I found myself thinkin' about too much. An' then we found you, an' you were even more beautiful than I'd expected." Hermione watched his knuckles grow white as his fingers pressed hard into the glass of the window, his shoulders tensing as well. "I still don' know why I captured you. Doin' my job, I s'pose. But the regret I felt, 'specially after 'anding you o'er to the Malfoy's was too much. An' then I 'eard you screamin', and it tore through me. I 'ad to save you, even if it meant putting m'self in danger, too."

While he spoke, Hermione remained still, her eyes wide and chest pinching from how overwhelmed she was. She didn't dare interrupt him, though. She needed to hear this.

"I tried ignorin' wha' I was feelin'," He said, his head bowed almost as if in shame. "I 'ad to pretend I wasn' thinkin' about you every day and night, and tha' I wasn' always wantin' to… well," he turned his head slightly, looking at her over his shoulder sheepishly. "wantin' to kiss you. But firewhiskey can make you do a lot of things you normally wouldn't. So last night, when I kissed you and said all of those things, it wasn' because I was drunk. It was because I needed some liquid courage to make me do it, finally."

She stared at him for a moment when he finished, feeling like someone had filled her with lead. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak; all she could do was think about everything he'd just said. So last night, all he had confessed was true. No lies, no tricks, just a man filled with firewhiskey and ready to admit what he'd been keeping from her. She tried to think back on what he had said last night, but a lot of it was a blur. What she remembered had been repeated just now while he confessed for a second time. He saved her because he fancied her. He kissed her because he wanted to.

"'Ermione Granger, speechless." Scabior laughed nervously, still standing at the window. "I feel like you should be sayin' somethin' right now."

Her eye brows rose but her gaze remained distant, trying to figure out how she felt about it all.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." She managed finally, and then cleared her throat before adding, "I'm just thinking."

"Abou'?"

"A lot of things."

Scabior turned around slowly, his eyes going immediately to her face. "Tha' doesn' sound good."

Without saying anything, Hermione looked down at her hands, seeing that she'd been digging her nails into the palm of her right hand rather hard. When she slowly retracted them, her hand was red and half-moon crescents in her skin were left behind. She watched them gradually fade, her eye brows knitting together and teeth gnawing on her lower lip. She knew Scabior was waiting for her to say something, and what exactly he wanted her to say, she didn't know. But she knew other things that were going on in that moment. Like, for instance, that there was a cluster of butterflies desperately trying to escape her stomach, and as well a deep red coloring in her cheeks, heating up her entire face. She knew that her foot was tapping anxiously against the wood floors of the cabin, her heart was beating faster than she'd ever felt it, and everything inside of her was begging she get up off the couch and go to him. But she fought this last feeling with all she had, which wasn't much.

"I need some air." Hermione gasped, stumbling to her feet and hurrying over to the door. When she threw it open, the wind blew the rain inside, hitting against her face and dampening her hair and clothes almost immediately. Despite the cold chill that came with it, she stepped outside, hearing the roll of thunder in the sky above her and the sound of Scabior's feet on the floor, rushing to catch up. She took a few more steps into the storm and found herself standing in the middle of the soaked grass front yard of Orrick's cabin, her face turned up at the sky like that might give her the answers she wanted.

"'Ermione?" Scabior touched a hand to her shoulder gently. "You should come back inside."

Without meaning to, she whipped around rather forcefully, causing him to stumble backwards a few paces out of surprise. "This isn't supposed to be happening!" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air and then letting them slap down against her wet jeans again.

He looked confused. "Wha' isn't?"

"Any of this!" she motioned around them like that would explain everything. "It all shouldn't be happening!"

Scabior's eye brow lifted and he took a careful step towards her, reaching out one hand. "I don' understand wha' you're tryin' t'say."

"You're the enemy!" Hermione exploded at him. "You took me away from my friends! You caused this to happen!" She held up her arm to show him the bandages that it bore, much to his displeasure. "Everything about you should make me want to run away out of terror and yet…" she trailed off, blinking through the rain that was blinding her.

"An' yet wha'?" Scabior urged her gently.

"And yet," she whispered, "I don't want to leave. I don't like the idea of being away from you, and since you kissed me, you're all I can think about. I didn't sleep at all last night, do you know that? I stayed awake for hours replaying the kiss in my mind and wishing that you'd come back. That's not supposed to be happening." Slowly, Hermione sank to her knees, feeling the mud soaking through her jeans and not caring one bit. She bowed her head shamefully and let the rain pour over her, silently wishing that she could be washed away into the swamp and just disappear forever.

Scabior

He hadn't been expecting that at all.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Scabior knew that was the reaction he had been hoping for. Praying for, would be a better word actually. And yet, even after she had spoken, he couldn't believe this was real. He remained standing motionless as he watched her fall to her knees, and wondered to himself if maybe he hadn't woken up yet .Maybe he hadn't left Orrick's bedroom and was still sleeping in his bed, imagining this all. What a cruel mind he had.

It was the rain that convinced him otherwise. Had it not been so cold and so unmistakably real against his clothes and skin, he would have continued and encouraged this train of thought leading him to believe all of it was in his head. But as he stood beneath the harsh storm, his hair sticking damp against his neck and Orrick's tee-shirt clinging to his chest, Scabior realized that he was not dreaming. Although completely unexpected, it had all happened: Hermione had just admitted she fancied him as much as he did her. And he was letting her sit in the mud while he contemplated the reality of this moment like a bloody idiot.

His feet maneuvered him over to where she remained on her knees, shoulders slumped and face drawn. Scabior hesitated, but only for a moment before dropping down in front of her, and reaching out his hand to lift her chin upwards so they were eye level once again. As her eyes searched his questioningly, he pushed back her sodden hair from her face. "There." He murmured quietly, his lips shaking as he smiled. "Now I can see your eyes again."

Hermione looked away, the rain and tears joining together on her cheeks. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"Do wha' you want to."

"I don't know what I want."

At that moment, Scabior wanted two things more than he'd ever wanted anything before in his entire life. The first thing was a fresh, full bottle of firewhiskey so he could down the entire thing and have that liquid courage he was so lacking at the moment. The second thing he wanted was to kiss Hermione. That was something he wanted so badly. And since it was the easiest choice of the two, Scabior reached out and brushed the back of his hand on her cheek, wiping away the drops that rolled down it; tears or rain, it didn't matter. As Hermione's eyes flickered to his, he took a chance, and brought her face gently to his until their lips met.

The kiss seemed to have startled Hermione, because he felt her flinch as he pressed his mouth over top of hers. But soon she was relaxing against him, just as he had hoped she would, and he felt his arms automatically wrapping around her body, hugging her against him so that he could provide some warmth in the middle of this storm. She gave into him completely, kissing him back with just as much force as he did and then some. It seemed they were both making up for lost time spent doing anything besides the sort.

Scabior broke away, feeling like if he didn't, his head just may explode. When he looked at Hermione, her face only inches from his, he could see that her eyes were wide but not with fright or anxiety, or anything that would have told him she regretted the kiss. No; her eyes were wide with a sort of newfound excitement and wonder, like she had experienced something new to her and was still reeling and unable to think straight. Scabior knew the feeling.

"I'm sorry." He whispered eventually once he felt he'd regained enough air to his lungs for words. "About...everythin'."

Hermione gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry as well."

"You didn' do anythin' wrong." Scabior pointed out, rather confused as to what she was apologizing for.

"I acted far too indifferent this morning. I should have told you how I felt the moment Orrick left the room." her eye lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she looked down, a habit Scabior had grown used to and was finding far more attractive than he'd ever thought possible. "I was just afraid that all you said had been a lie and that you regretted the kiss. You were drunk, after all."

Scabior tilted his head to the side, smiling lazily. "I lie about a lot of things, 'Ermione." He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip and shook his head slowly. "But I would never lie to you."

"Never?" she repeated.

"Never."

Her arms wound around his torso and she pulled herself closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder and his face pressing into the damp, sweet smelling curls of her hair. As Scabior held her, he couldn't help but feel his lips turning down. It wasn't form the freezing rain that continued to pelt down relentlessly on them, and it certainly wasn't from the uncomfortable feeling of his damp clothes. It was from something rubbing against the waist band of his pants and his abdomen; a wand that had been tucked away from safe keeping. More specifically, it was Hermione's wand. And until that moment, he had forgotten about it entirely.

From then on he would only tell the truth, but what about the secret he was hiding in his waistband, the one he'd previously lied about to her face? How was he supposed to explain that one without admitting to everything else he had done, especially having cast a spell on the storm to make it continue, to make it worse so she couldn't leave? It was incredible: he'd only just promised he'd never lie to her, and in doing so told the biggest lie he could have possibly told.

A/N: sorry for such a short update but i've been kind of busy lately xP Anyways, here's chapter ten! Thanks again to all of you guys for reading and keeping up with the story! It means so much to me