12.
Hermione
When she woke up the next morning, her entire body felt lighter than it had in days. Hermione remained where she was, blinking tiredly at the window across the room from her bed. It was still raining. That wasn't a big surprise. She hated waking up like that, with a gray sky clapping thunder outside. When was the last time she watched the sun rise, or actually even saw the sun? Was it considered normal to have weather like this when you lived in a swamp? She made a mental note to ask Orrick about it later.
Pushing her legs out so her toes met the chilly cabin air from beneath the blankets, Hermione rolled onto her side and smiled, expecting to be facing Scabior. What she found instead was nothing of the sort. The sheets on his side of her bed held only the memory of his body; nothing more. Sitting up, she looked around the room with a quizzical expression, wondering where he might have escaped to. A moment passed where she remained upright, one hand running through her tangled hair and her eyes scanning the length of the room. Then, the sound of a handle being turned brought her attention to the doorway where she could see Scabior slipping inside quietly, holding a steaming mug in his hand. As he turned to face the bed after silently shutting the door, he startled slightly, obviously not expecting to see her awake.
"You're up." He observed with a smile after he'd recovered. "Tea?"
Hermione reached for the outstretched mug and brought it to her face, inhaling the sweet smell. "Thank you."
"I'm not sure 'ow good it'll taste. I don' make tea much."
She took a sip and smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry, it's great."
The bed gave a low groan as Scabior lowered himself onto it, his back hunched while he stared at his clasped hands between his legs. Hermione continued drinking and watched him over the lip of her mug, fully aware of what that look on his face meant. Knit eye brows, parted lips, a small crinkle in his forehead: Scabior had something to say. What that was, she didn't know. But it was definitely something he wasn't looking forward to sharing. And that worried her.
"Hey." She gave his shoulder a light nudge and he turned his face to look at her. "What's wrong?"
"Wha' makes you think somethin's wrong?"
Setting her mug down on the bedside table, Hermione reached out her hand carefully and began smoothing the worry lines on his forehead, smiling shyly. "You have this look you get when you're thinking hard." She explained as her thumb grazed his eye brows and they immediately relaxed. "It's okay. You can tell me what's on your mind."
He caught her hand and held it against his face, his lips kissing the palm of it before he released her entirely. "Never mind. I'm jus' a little tired, tha's all."
"Tired? Did you not sleep last night?" She wasn't about to admit it, but Hermione had fallen asleep almost immediately with his body pressed against hers, holding her to his warm chest.
Scabior shrugged his shoulders, smiling at her. "I had a lot on m'mind las' night. Also," he turned his body so they were facing each other, and reached out to brush aside some of her hair that had fallen across her face. "you're very distracting, Ms. Granger."
Just like the day before, as soon as Scabior touched her, everything inside of Hermione came alive and she couldn't help but scoot forward so the space between them was closed, and press her lips to the side of his face. "You should sleep." She murmured, her lips lingering. "You look absolutely exhausted." His arms wrapped around her, pulling her body against his as they both fell back onto the blankets, tangled together. "Alone." Hermione laughed. "You should sleep alone."
Scabior gave a reluctant groan but eventually released her and she rolled away from him, standing from the bed with unsteady legs. She needed to go walk around a little and wake up her body. When she looked back down at where she'd left Scabior, Hermione began to smile. He'd curled up into the blankets and was already snoring quietly, telling her it was time she left him alone. Careful not to wake him, Hermione exited the bedroom, and found herself face to face with Orrick.
"Good mornin'." He greeted her as her hand flew to her chest in surprise.
"Orrick! I didn't think you'd be up yet."
"I'm a bit of an early riser." His eyes flickered to the closed door her back was pressed against, and she could see the suspicion darkening his irises. "Did I see Scabior go in there?"
"Scabior?" Hermione repeated, trying to buy herself some time to make a believable excuse. But what could she say? Orrick had seen him go in there. Was she supposed to make question of his eye sight, or pretend that she had no idea what he was talking about? He was too good of a friend for her to do that. And besides, he was going to have to find out anyway. This was better; her telling him face to face.
"Yes." She admitted finally, and looked down. "Scabior's sleeping in my bed right now. He's been there all night and left this morning to get me a cup of tea."
The silence between them was so loud, so apparent, that it only added to the shame Hermione was feeling. They should have told him earlier. Hiding it from Orrick now felt completely rude. She was a guest in his house and was keeping her relationship with Scabior a secret from him, which wasn't very nice at all. He deserved to know; Scabior is, after all, his brother.
"Well." Orrick said, and she lifted his head to look at him. "I s'pose I should'a seen this comin'."
"What? What do you mean?"
He motioned to the table behind them, indicating that she sit down. As she did, she noted the tired look he wore, and the fact that he didn't seem angry with the situation. That was somewhat confusing, considering the circumstances. They'd lied to him. He should have been lecturing her on being honest, especially while under his roof. But he wasn't. In fact, as Orrick sat down across the table from her, he was smiling. "You know," he said, "I've known Scabior fancies you for a while now."
Hermione frowned. "A while? How long is that exactly?" she'd only known for a day or so.
"Since 'e came 'ere."
Her eyes widened, and she leaned across the table intently. "That's impossible! He couldn't stand me!"
"You're wrong about tha'." Orrick gave a small smile and shook his head. "I don' know 'ow to explain it t'you, but as soon as you two got 'ere, I could tell 'e fancied you. It was only a matter of time before 'e was ready t'admit it. My brother isn't exactly the most open person, especially not when it's abou' girls. No matter 'ow much I asked, 'e still kept 'is feelings a secret from me an' you. I'm jus' glad to see e's finally opened up abou' them."
Hermione smiled, and looked over her shoulder at the closed door. "I'm glad too."
"Mhm. Well, it's grea' tha' you two have worked everythin' out. But 'Ermione, I want you to be careful."
Her head turned at this. "What do you mean, careful?"
"I know my brother better than anyone else. I don't want to turn you off from 'im, but there's more to Scabior than jus' wha' 'es showin' you. 'Is moods change very quickly, most often without any warnin', and 'e 'asn't exactly been in the most trustworthy line of business, you know."
"I'm not sure I understand." Hermione shook her head, not following. "You're glad I'm with him, but you're also telling me I shouldn't trust him?"
Orrick sighed, his eyes lowered on the table top. "I'm sayin' you should think about wha's best for you. D'you really need to be datin' Scabior after all tha's 'appened between you two?"
"I think it's my business." She couldn't help the defensive tone in her voice. "And it should stay that way."
Without letting him plead his case further, Hermione pushed her chair back from the table and stood, turning on her heels and heading back to her bedroom. As she opened the door, she could hear Orrick standing from the table as well, but closed it before he could say anything. For a moment afterwards, she leaned against it for support, breathing heavily and covering her face with one hand, trying to think. Orrick's words were ringing in her ears, loud and demanding, and no matter how hard she tried, they just would not go away. Was he right? Everything she'd even been taught, ever experienced was telling her that Scabior was not a man to be seen as trustworthy. But as cliché as it sounds, her heart was telling her something entirely different. And this was the organ she was listening to.
Lowering her hand from her face, she looked over at the bed and found herself smiling at the image of Scabior sprawled out, his jaw hanging open as he snored. She walked towards him and reached out one hand, brushing back the hair that fell over his face. As she did this, her eyes flickered downwards, and everything inside of her froze. What was that poking out of Scabior's waistband?
Scabior
He'd been dreaming of her. They were standing together beneath a large tree, its branches covered in snow and trembling against the cool winter wind. Hermione commented about how cold she was, wearing only a pair of jeans and a tank top, her normally pale skin flushed pink. Scabior slipped off his jacket and handed it to her. When their fingers brushed, her eyes flickered to meet his, and all of the air left Scabior's chest. Literally. He couldn't breathe, feeling as though something was wrapped tight around his neck. He blinked once, and then Hermione was gone, the tree was gone, the world around him vanishing as well. In its place was the dark, cold room in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix was standing before him, her wand raised and spouting the black coil that was currently strangling Scabior for the second time in his life. Except this time, she didn't release him before it choked him to death. Tighter and tighter it wound until spots appeared in front of his eyes and he couldn't remember what it felt like to breathe. When he collapsed on the ground, he was given a horizontal view of Bellatrix as she pointed her wand at Hermione, laying before her, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra".
Scabior sat up sharply, his eyes wide and chest heaving. First he brought his hands to his neck and rubbed at it, the painful pressure that had been there a moment ago now gone. Next, he looked around the room desperately, searching for Hermione. He found her almost instantly, sitting on the edge of the bed with her face turned away from him. There was an immense feeling of relief that rushed through him, and he fought back the images of her being killed by Bellatrix as he leaned forward and reached for her shoulder, lightly brushing his fingers against it. "Hey," he began, but wasn't given the chance to finish.
Hermione spun around to face him, her eyes damp and narrowed into accusing slits. "You bastard."
"Wha'?" he wondered briefly if he was still dreaming, but when she slapped him across the face, quick as a whip, he knew the sting in his cheek was real, definitely real.
"You know damn-well what!"
"No, 'Ermione, I don't!" he sat up now, fully awake, and stared at her like she was mad. "I 'ave no idea wha's goin' on!"
That was when she held up her hand, showing him what was clutched tight in it. A wand. More specifically, it was her wand, the one he'd been keeping hidden from her the entire time they were there. His confusion melted into a sickening feeling of regret and shame. So she'd found it. It didn't matter how, it didn't matter when; all that mattered was that she had, and that was that. There was no going back now. "'Ermione." He whispered, reaching for her again. "Please, let me explain-"
"You created the storm, didn't you?" She interjected loudly. "You did it that day you went outside for some air, but you weren't getting air, were you? Were you?"
Scabior looked down, ashamed, and shook his head slowly. "No. I wasn't."
"You made the storm so I couldn't leave!"
"I made it stronger so you wouldn't leave me." He corrected her with a pinched tone, unable to look her in the eye. "I… I didn't have a choice."
Hermione reached out and slapped him again, harder this time, and his head remained turned to the side from the impact. "Of course you had a bloody choice! You didn't have to hide my wand from me! You didn't have to make the storm worse so Orrick wouldn't take me to town! You didn't have to lie to me all this time! You chose to do those things, Scabior! You chose to hurt me and you chose to betray me and you chose to fool me into thinking you were actually a decent human being!"
Each and every one of her words were like another slap to his face. They hurt and stung and sunk much deeper past his skin. He knew he had to try and defend himself, to somehow convince her that his actions were all out of love, but he found his tongue was like sand in his mouth, and anything he wanted to say was sticking in his throat. How could he possibly even try to make what he had done sound reasonable? It wasn't. She was right; he was a bastard. And nothing he said was going to be able to change that. He could try though.
"I was keepin' you safe." He whispered, and looked up at her pleadingly. "If you left, Bellatrix would find you again and she would kill you."
Hermione scoffed. "What do you think I've been doing for years, Scabior? You think I've been hanging out at Hogwarts with my friends and watching Quidditch matches and having a grand old time? Well you're wrong then! I've had to take care of myself for a long time now. I've looked death in the face, I've battled evil, and I made my own goddamn parents forget me so I can continue putting myself in danger without them being put in danger as well! You don't know anything about me. I know how to take care of myself and I could have bloody-well-handled anything Bellatrix tried."
"Please, 'Ermione, you 'ave to understand-"
"I don't have to understand anything!" She stood from the bed and glared angrily at him, hot tears streaming down her face. "You are an awful man and a terrible person and I was fool to ever think I could trust you."
Ouch. Scabior swallowed the thick lump in his throat, and stared up at her desperately. "I love you, and I know you love me too."
"I don't know that I do!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What if you've been casting some sort of love spell on me? That would make more sense than what I've been feeling lately!"
He scrambled to stand from the bed and stood in front of her, ignoring the pinch in his chest when she took an automatic step backwards. "I 'aven't done anythin' of the sort, 'Ermione! Everythin' you've been feelin' for me is real. The only spell I've cast with your wand was for the storm, I promise. Please love, please believe me. I'm beggin' you."
For a moment, it looked like her expression was softening. "I'm sorry, Scbaior." She whispered, raising her wand. "But I can't trust you anymore. I'm leaving."
"No!" He reached out for her, desperate to keep her there with him, and found himself grabbing at the air where she had been standing. Hermione was gone. Slowly, Scabior sank to his knees, his entire body feeling like it was shrinking into itself. He wanted to run after her but he couldn't. He had no idea where she was. She'd disapparated to get away from him. She'd left him on her own accord. The realization hit him like a brick wall, and he pressed the palms of his hands in his eyes, moaning quietly.
"Scabior?" The door to the room opened slowly and Orrick poked his head in. "Someone's 'ere to see you."
His words didn't even register. "Get out!"
"But Scabior-"
"I said out!" he glared at his brother furiously. "Now!"
Without speaking, Orrick pushed open the door a little further and revealed a man standing behind him. Immediately, Scabior recognized him as Fenrir Greyback. Everything inside of him went cold and slowly he got to his feet, his eyes never leaving the man's ugly, smirking face.
"'Ello, Scabior." He stepped into the room, ducking his head to get past the door frame. "We need to talk."
A/N: Sorry for how long it has taken for me to update! I've been so busy lately and only just today got the time to work on it! I'll fix the mistakes later, but right now I'm on my way out the door and just wanted this posted. Thanks for reading!
