Hello my friends! Loooong chapter served to you all. And perhaps you'll take the time to make me some reviews? (puppy eyes) See you at the bottom!

Inspirational music: Crazy by Cue (the lyrics really fits this chapter)

Chap. 21 Betrayals

'Run! Move your sorry arse!' The snatcher within had made up his mind. It was time to flee from the Dark Lord who stood with a grim look on his pale face.

It took a great deal of Scabior's power to not give in to the alluring voice and disapparate with the rest of the gathered Death Eaters. He was not afraid yet, but deeply worried by Voldemort's request. Somehow he found the strength to walk forward, although he did not feel particularly cocky like he had been, many times over, when he had strolled through the Ministry with snatched people.

Some Death Eaters remained in the suddenly emptied hall. They were probably bodyguards as they held their wands at the ready. A spell tickled his mouth and he found himself able to move his tongue. Voldemort had removed the silencing charm. Scabior straightened his back, wanting to resemble the idea of a strong and loyal follower.

"Scabior. One of the finest snatchers in Britain. You have certainly proved your allegiance to me over and over."

"My Lord," Scabior said silkily and bowed to the wizard, swallowing back the wave of nausea that hit him when he spotted the blood smeared on the floor.

"And the men serving under you seem very reluctant to leave without you," Voldemort added and looked past Scabior's shoulder. Scabior turned around and saw his seven men still standing huddled by the wall.

"Let them go back, so we can talk in private," the Dark Lord suggested almost kindly but Scabior would not be fooled. He called across the room, "You go to the camp. I'll come back soon."

The men disapparated without protest and suddenly Scabior felt very alone.

"To more important things, then. As I recall, I gave you a well-known mudblood as a reward for capturing Potter." Scabior did not know how to respond but settled for a polite affirmation. "That's correct, my Lord."

The Dark Lord smiled maliciously. "Was it of any use to you?"

"After getting rid of the filthy blood on the creature, it amused me for a while, alright," Scabior said in a bored tone and buried his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Amused? So the mudblood Granger is not alive anymore?" Voldemort asked harshly and the very air between the men began to tremble from the frustration brewing in the master.

Scabior may have been an accomplished liar, but he knew too well he was lousy at Occlumency. Up until now he had answered half truthfully to Voldemort's questions but if the stronger wizard decided to probe his mind, Scabior was fucked. He had to tell him the truth to save his life. All the while his heart went out to Hermione who was alone in a world of evil.

"No, my Lord. The mudblood is still spreading its stench in my tent as we speak." The other man relaxed and tapped his chin as if contemplating something.

"Have you relieved your urges inside it?"

It felt utterly degrading to be asked such a question because the Dark Lord made it sound like Hermione was some kind of a walking pussy and nothing more. Scabior could not even picture himself only relieving his urges in her without showing some feelings for her. She deserved to be cherished. Scabior found his words.

"No way in hell, my Lord! Why would I want to pollute myself for a fuck? I know the mudbloods are a bad breed." After his gruesome answer, Scabior searched his mouth with the tongue to once again taste the faint trace of Hermione.

"You seem like a fine pureblood, Scabior. If only there were more wizards like you," Voldemort sighed theatrically and glanced at the golden lifts. Scabior suspected that one of them led to the deepest cellars.

"I apologize for this, but I must take the mudblood from you."

How he managed to stand proud before the Dark Lord when his heart stopped beating and a knife was stabbed in his back, was beyond Scabior. A raised eyebrow was the only response he permitted himself to.

"Of course I grant you compensation for the inconvenience. We are soon going to search Hogwarts for friends of Potter. You may choose a half-blood witch to entertain yourself with in stead. I assure you she will reek less."

"Forgive me for asking, my Lord, but what are you planning to do with my mudblood?" Now Scabior began to feel really scared; scared for Hermione. "Use your brain, snatcher! With Granger as my hostage, it will only be a matter of time before Potter cave in and surrender himself to me," Voldemort barked. Apparently his patience was running low and he added with an annoyed hiss, "What are you waiting for? Go and bring the mudblood to me."

Scabior understood he was dismissed and bowed before he turned around and took hold of his wand. His body had recovered slightly from Voldemort's calling but the Apparation still made Scabior retch, only this time he was convinced it had to do with the Dark Lord's request.

He managed to land on his feet this time and scanned the camp. Heavy raindrops splashed on his head, making him shiver from the cold. Through the grey curtain he could make out familiar faces crowding the doorways of the many tents. The snatchers had waited for his return.

"I'm okay! Go rest now!" he shouted at them and relished his moment of solitude when the heads disappeared. Against his own rules concerning rain and self-preservation, Scabior stood rooted on the spot and breathed in and out. In and out.

Water managed to stream through his thick braid and tickle the sensitive skin on his neck. It felt almost like Hermione's nails on his scalp. Scabior tilted his head upwards and felt the rain land directly on his tired face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his heart he knew this was the moment.

The very moment he had anticipated since he saved Hermione's fingers by waking her. He regretted helping her. Regretted his capture of her. And most of all, regretted he had let her capture his heart and bind his snatcher nature to her. It made everything so difficult.

The coldness spread in his limbs as the rain soaked him through his clothes. He could no longer feel his hands and his face was going numb as the raindrops mercilessly continued to sting him. 'I want to keep you alive as well.' His own words echoed in his mind, further wounding him. Scabior brought up an arm and wiped of his face roughly. He could smell spring, rain and salt. Did he cry? 'You do have some goodness within.' Her trust in him when she begged him to sleep in her bed. Her soft body providing warmth this morning. 'Thank you for healing my hands.' Scabior shuddered when he recalled her lips moving eagerly against his, arousing him to a point when he almost shattered his sanity. 'Trust me, you are safe here.' He had said that to her an hour ago.

He lowered his head in defeat and shook his head, banishing every voice that assaulted his conscience. He had decided. He clenched his jaw and frowned. Hermione had to go.

With the swift pace of a determined man, he marched to his tent and went through the opening. His resolve almost crumbled when he immediately was met by her dishevelled hair and swollen lips. But his will was strong and he became angry at her for affecting him so much. "I 'ope ya ate, 'cause I don't think ya'll get much food where ya're goin'," he muttered sternly while he passed her and sat down on his haunches before his green chest.

Hermione jumped when she heard Scabior's voice pierce the silence. She grabbed her wand firmly and got up from the bed where she had anxiously waited for either his return or intruders.

She had not dared to make something to eat, feeling too poised and nervous to let down her guard even for a minute. A moment of resting when she put on her thick white sweater to rid herself of the cold was the only thing she had allowed herself.

She made her way over to Scabior's crouched form to ask him about the meeting.

"What happened?" she asked carefully and let her gaze linger on the wet red stripe in Scabior's hair. He did not even acknowledged her by turning around when he answered.

"Oh, the usual. His snake ate a man, the Malfoy son's now forced to obey the dark Lord's every command and He's angry because the Order of the Phoenix freed Potter and Weasley." Hermione inhaled sharply. The news Scabior brought were both disturbing and happy. 'They are safe! And the Order is still working!' Her diminished flame of hope flared up to a fire, warming her core.

But Scabior's tense behaviour and harsh voice made her momentarily focus on him. Tentatively she reached out her wandless hand and lay it on Scabior's slick back. "How are you, Scabior?"

He shrugged off her hand and growled testily, "Leave me alone, will ya? I need ta find somethin' in this shit-deep fuckin' trash can!" He shouted the last part and Hermione jerked away like a scared rabbit. It was evident that something was wrong. Something more important than their shared kiss, that Scabior hid from her. Despite what her gut told her, it nagged at her heart when the man she had given her first kiss to rejected her.

"Why did your companions arrive earlier than you?"

Scabior raised himself at last from the floor, ignorant of the puddle at his feet, and swirled around. His face was agitated but Hermione summoned the courage to look him in the eye. His arms fell to his sides and he glared down at her.

"The Dark Lord wants to collect friends and allies to Potter. They're going to be held hostage until Potter turns himself over. And just guess what He ordered me to do." There was no warmth in the dark brown eyes and it unsettled Hermione before the words sank in. Scabior's face was damp too and void of emotion. She had never seen Scabior like this and she did not like it.

She almost dropped her wand when she figured it out, feeling the thin wood slide on her newly healed fingers. First came denial.

"No. No, you can't be serious." She backed away slowly, shaking her head and desperately whishing to forget the revelation. Scabior frowned at her retreat and took a step forward. He opened his mouth and Hermione concentrated to hear his voice through the confusion.

"Of course, love. He thought you'd be the perfect bate for Potter. Once you get tortured and He spreads the news to the world, I bet one hundred galleons Potter will come to your rescue within twenty minutes."

Not even Scabior's body radiated any heat and Hermione trembled when his soaked form moved purposely closer. The backsides of her thighs suddenly hit something hard and she threw a look behind her. She had backed into the table, and with Scabior closing in, she actually feared for her life.

He invaded her personal space with speed and grabbed hold of her right wrist. His tight hold made her wand leave the hand and clatter on the floor. His thighs brushed against the top of hers and his presence made her react to the danger.

"Let go of me, you creep! Don't you dare!" she yelled at him and tried to hit him in the groin with her knee. Unfortunately it was efficiently trapped between the table and his cold leg. Angry tears gathered in her eyes and she exclaimed with sorrow and a broken heart, "You promised! I stayed here to be safe like you wanted! And you promised you'd never hurt me! Scabior, let me go!"

She tried to fight him, but he managed to secure both her hands in his left hand, while he placed the other on the back of her head. Just like when he had kissed her and made her feel things she had never experienced. He forced her head nearer and leaned down to her. His cold nose nuzzled the side of her neck and sent shivers along her skin. She heard his ragged breath and was reminded of that time when he snatched her. Her first impression should have been followed. She should have fought him.

His scent of apples and wilderness caught her off guard and she let out a sob when she now understood that the Scabior she thought she knew never really existed.

"I trusted you," she wailed in despair. His ice cold lips travelled up her neck and around the shell of her ear.

He kissed her earlobe softly before he whispered, "Hit me." Hermione gulped down air and tried to free her head so she could see his eyes. His hand was unrelenting and continued to hold her still.

"What are you talking about?" she snapped and felt his stubble scratch her cheek. "I'm not going to take you to Him. Never planned to."

"What are you going to do, then?" Hermione breathed out, still too cautious to believe him.

"Create memories and send you to a safe place," he announced enigmatically and nibbled affectionately on her ear.

"Care to explain what you're talking about?" she yelled, tired of his game and Scabior left her neck only to gaze into her eyes. He was serious but not intimidating anymore and his eyes carried a warm brown colour.

"I've tried to learn about Occlumency," he began in a low voice and brought his hand from her neck to her cheek where his thumb brushed away the tears. "I'm no better at it than trolls are at flying. So I'll go to the Dark Lord and tell Him that you escaped. But we must make it happen, so He'll see for himself if He checks my mind. Otherwise I'm a goner."

Hermione said in a weak voice, "You're not going to hand me over?" She had been so afraid of his grim person and found it hard to fully trust him.

"No, I'm not, beautiful," he whispered fervently and cupped her chin. "But you must be a brave girl and do as I say. Both of our lives are at risk." Hermione finally believed him, seeing and hearing the familiar Scabior before her. She nodded silently and Scabior exhaled loudly as if he had been holding his breath.

"Okay, Hermione. There's a portkey activated for a quick getaway on top of my things in the chest. It's a black dagger. It'll take you to a safe place where He can't find you. You'll be perfectly fine."

"What about you?"

Scabior released her hands but started a second later to caress her knuckles with long strokes.

"I'm a survivor, you know, and a hell of a juggler. Besides, what could the Dark Lord do? You hit me and stole your wand back when I was busy seeing stars. He can't blame me for that."

Scabior sounded sure of himself, and yet Hermione saw several flaws with his parts of the plan but Scabior interrupted her before she could object.

"Time's ticking, love. If it takes any longer He'll come visit and take you Himself." Scabior gripped her hands hard and put his free hand over her throat.

"Beautiful," he mumbled and closed the distance between them. His lips might be chilling but his strenuous insistence made Hermione aware of a warm feeling inside. His tongue was considerably warmer as it quested into her mouth for a moment before Scabior withdrew himself from her. His hand clenched a little around her throat and Hermione looked at Scabior for reassurance.

"Let's stage a fight. You only get one shot," Scabior blinked at her and made more room for her legs. The hand that her breathing depended on clamped down and Hermione could barely breathe.

"Ya filthy mudblood slut! Ya should know it's an 'onour ta meet the Dark Lord personally! Relax so I can fetch my fuckin' wand!" he screamed at her and shook her brutally. Hermione spotted his wand by the chest and already knew her wand was on the floor beside her.

She bucked against Scabior's hard chest but saw him spread his legs a little. She did what she had to do. With surprising force and aim, her knee hit Scabior right in the groin. He probably did not fake his reaction when he wheezed out air and released her. He crouched down to clutch his dearer parts and that was when Hermione went for his face. A right hook sent him tumbling to the floor and she quickly bent down to retrieve her wand.

She wanted to help him, although it would ruin his memories. In stead she leapt past him and reached for the black item in his open chest. An invisible hook took hold of her navel and the tent began to swim before her. She could make out Scabior lying on the floor with his checkered trousers and big leather coat before he dissolved and she flew away with the portkey to an unknown destination.

Scabior watched her succeed escaping the tent and momentarily rested his head on the floor. He had done it.

He had willingly betrayed the Dark Lord to save his woman.

It felt okay, had it not been for the fact that he was the one who had to break the news to Voldemort. Would he live another day? He groaned when he moved a little. 'She's good at this. Maybe too good,' he thought as he for the third time that day struggled to his feet.

But he did felt a bit less sorry for himself when he thought about where Hermione had been sent. 'Hermione will lose it when she meets her.'

Oh, so you've worked your way down now? He he. Tell me please, did I fool you that Scabior would take Hermione to Voldemort, or were you trusting Scabior all along? Send a review!