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Chapter Twenty Five
It was two days before they heard from George again. Even then it was just a brief message stating that Pippit wanted to meet them. Scabior wasn't sure what to think about that. He didn't trust easily. Or at all really. And he'd yet to meet this Auror and form his own opinion on the wanker. Although Hermione had said that he was one of the good guys. She'd said that if Kingsley trusted him then so could they. Scabior wasn't convinced.
He tipped his head down to look at her. She was sleeping. Wild hair acting as a pillow, a slight smile curving her lips. She'd remain like that for the next few hours. Just as she had the previous two nights. He'd made sure to slip her a little sleeping potion after he'd fucked her. Not enough to completely knock her out; she'd still wake if someone called out her name, but enough so that he could sneak out without her knowing he was gone. Of course, she'd be completely furious if she ever found out. But Scabior had no intention of ever telling her.
The Snatcher slowly untangled himself from her legs and arms. Inching away from her heat. For a minute he remained standing above her; staring at the pale blur her face made in the darkness. She looked so peaceful. And angel he didn't deserve. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and fall asleep in her arms. Breathe in her scent. Even as the thought entered his mind, he shook it away. The more time he spent with her the soppier he became. If he wasn't careful he'd be buying her chocolates and flowers and declaring his love by the end of the month. He dreaded to think what his Snatcher mates would say. Turning away he quickly dressed, making as little noise as possible. Relying on touch rather than sight. Before leaving he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Lingering a moment to take in a lungful of her scent.
He gave her one last look, then quietly left, closing and warding the door behind him. Once outside he stood on the step letting the night air soothe his skin. The darkness felt like a cool embrace. He pursed his lips, reached into his pocket and took out the crystal. It sat like a piece of ice in the palm of his hand. A heavy weight that tugged at him. In a rough move, he closed his fingers around it. Letting the sharp edges bite into his skin. Slowly; as he'd shown Hermione, he moved his hand back and forth. Waiting for the tiny pulse that would tell him which direction Bella was hiding in. North. The same as last night. And the one before that.
Scabior had tracked her to a deserted farmhouse on the Scottish borders. A run down building, surrounded by weed and covered in ivy. The place had been warded to the point where he hadn't dared get too close. Worried that they'd flare if he tried to sneak through. But he knew she was inside. Both her and the rat. He remained in place, wondering if he should Apparate to check on them. To see if they were still there. But his Snatcher sense told him they were, so he saw little point in risking it.
His biggest problem was what to do about it. Telling Hermione would make her rush off and get herself killed. And him with her. They needed a plan. A nice safe foolproof plan. And just as soon as he'd thought of one he'd tell Hermione where the crazy bitch could be found. But until then, he'd keep it to himself. He didn't like it. Keeping it from her. It skirted just a little too close to lying than he was comfortable with, but if it kept her alive then he'd live with it.
Closing his eyes he tilted back his head and sighed. His little witch was going to explode when she found out. A fond smile crossed his face. The sadistic part of him liked it when she was angry. It was a turn on to see her cheeks flush and hair crackle and spark. But it was her eyes that he liked the best. The way they'd flash indignantly and glow like fire whisky. Burning into him with deadly intent. It was enough to make him hard just thinking about it.
Huffing out a breath at his own foolishness, Scabior jumped off the steps and made his way to the bottom of the field. Dew clung to his boots and pants as he strolled through the grass. The night was alive with sound. The scuttle of tiny feet darting about the undergrowth. The dry powder sound of an owl's wings flying in the still air. A high pitched screech as a fox caught a rabbit and ended its life.
His wandering thoughts circled back to Bella. The easiest solution would be to kill her. That was definitely his preference. But he knew Hermione would never agree. Not whilst she still thought there were rules to the game they were playing. Narrowing his eyes he looked north. No longer needing the crystal to tell him which direction to look. He considered once again Apparating to the farmhouse. If only so he could poke at the wards. Try to find a weakness. A tiny crack that he could sneak through.
But what then? Attack her with a tickling charm? Spit insults until she dropped dead? None of that even took into account the stinking rat that was sure to be skulking about in the shadows. Frustration clenched his hands into tight fists. If only he could convince her to do it his way. The Slytherin way. Several long minutes passed. Scabior sneering into the night. Unease biting at his heels. He had a bad feeling. The longer this hunt continued the more his skin felt like it was trying to crawl free of his body. The urge to go back to the hut, throw Hermione over his shoulder and disappear was strong enough that he worried that he might not be able to control it.
He must have stayed that way for several hours. Teeth grinding, eyes staring north. Unseeing. The sky faded to a dull purple. The air holding the freshness of a new day. In a little over six hours, they would be meeting Pippit. The Snatcher sighed, twisting away and making his way back to the cabin. He didn't enter. Merely sat on the steps, back propped against the door and waited.
Pippit was a fucking idiot. Scabior didn't like him. He had a way of looking at Hermione that set his teeth on edge. Like he wanted to crack open her skull to see inside her brain. Or strip her naked and study every curve and dip. Of course, the shit was careful only to let those looks show on his face when he thought they weren't looking. Waiting until they were both turned to settle his greedy eyes on her face. But Scabior had seen them. And what he'd seen he didn't trust. Or like.
His lips puckered in distaste as Hermione bent closer to the idiot. Listening intently as the Auror told them how Kingsley was. The Snatcher wasn't the least bit interested. He only half heard as he scanned the deserted clearing. Eyes taking in the distant muggle houses. Looking as always for the best escape route.
"But you're sure he's okay?" Hermione's soft voice asked. Pulling him back to the loose circle the three of them made.
His eyes tracked Pippit's fingertips as he reached forward to brush the back of her hand. "He's fine. I've been seeing him every day."
Hermione's eyes closed in relief at his words. And Scabior watched as Pippit's gaze traced the line of her jaw before settling on her lips when she wasn't looking.
"Yer enjoyin' the view?" He sneered.
The Auror's eyes blinked as he twisted to regard him with a cool look. "I've no idea what you mean."
"What view?" Hermione asked looking at Pippit before switching her gaze to Scabior.
"Nothin' yer need worry about Dove." He said. "The boy was lookin' at somethin' he shouldn't 'ave been."
Scabior watched as Pippit's face cleared of all emotion. His smooth features becoming blank. Eyes darkening as his stare switched from him back to Hermione. "How is your hunt going? Are you any closer to finding Lestrange and Pettigrew?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Clearly confused about what had just happened. "Well, we-"
"Now Pet. Don't be lettin' all of our secrets slip." Scabior interrupted, not shifting his gaze from Pippit.
A slight tightening beneath his eyes was the only indication of the rage stirring inside the young Auror. Such a small sign. Only seen because Scabior was watching him so intently. And what he was seeing was making his skin crawl. There was something off about the Auror. Something that made his Snatcher sense perk up and take notice.
When a barely there smile touched Pippit's lips, Scabior felt ice pool in the pit of his stomach. "This isn't what I had planned. But I'm nothing if not adaptable."
"What?" Hermione asked frowning. "I don't understand."
Scabior felt the air shift. Tension swirling around them. He flicked his wrist, wand sliding into his palm. And then Pippit murmured a word and Hermione hit the floor. One second. That's all it took. One second for his witch to crumple to the ground unconscious. He took a step towards her, wand raised and pointed at Pippit. His heart was pulsing in his throat, panic tumbling down his spine.
"Are you to play the hero and save the girl?" Pippit said withdrawing his own wand in one smooth careless gesture, "She'll be the first to die if a single spell leaves your lips."
Scabior froze. Instinct telling him the Auror was serious. That one misstep would cost Hermione her life. The air around him buzzed against his skin making it prickle unpleasantly. Every cell in his body screamed at him to do something. Anything. But he didn't know what he could do. Not when Pippit had cast that wandless magic so easily. There was no way he'd be able to reach Hermione before the Auror made good on his word and killed her.
"What do yer want?" He snarled, holding onto his temper by a rapidly fraying thread.
Pippit gave a small meaningless smile, "Everything. But for now, I'll have to make do with the two if you."
The Snatcher felt his heart move from his chest to his throat. He swallowed, calculating the distance between them. Wondering if he could tackle Pippit to the ground. Use his hand to slam his jaw closed and prevent him casting. If he'd been alone he might have taken the risk. But not now. Not with Hermione pale and vulnerable at their feet.
As if reading his mind, Pippit slowly bent down, fingertips ghosting over the witches cheek. "Will you carry her?" His eyes flicked up to Scabior's, "or shall I?"
"Yer don't fuckin' touch her." Scabior hissed reaching down to gather her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds, he thought he might be able to Apparate them away. Quickly before the Auror had time to think. But as soon as the thought entered his head, Pippit grasped the collar of his jacket, fingers twisting in the leather.
Scabior bared his teeth as their chance of escape was snatched away. He shook his anger aside, switching his attention back to Hermione, scooping a hand beneath her knees and shoulders. He slowly pushed back to his feet, the wild-haired witch a dead weight in his arms.
A cramping sensation, just below his ribcage, was the only warning he got as Pippit Disapparated them away. They landed in a damp cellar. Dark and stinking of mould. Beside him, the Auror muttered a word and candles flared to life. Lighting the area around him. His eyes immediately searched the room. Taking in the sturdy table, two hard-backed chairs and one wall peppered with rusty chains. The floor beneath the chains had dried pools of blood and gore.
His skin itched. The danger they were in breathing down his neck. The Snatcher instinct told him to fight, to run. He sensed death and pain. But a glance at Hermione had him freezing in place. Pippit had the tip of his wand pressed against the top of her head.
"Lean her against the wall," A pale finger pointed at a section of wall which held a length of chain that coiled onto the rough stone floor. "There."
Scabior grit his teeth. Unable to make his feet move.
A sigh came from Pippit. "Either you do it or I will." He gave Scabior an expressionless look, "But I can guarantee that you won't like my method. And neither will she."
The promise of pain saturated his voice. It was enough to force Scabior's feet into action. Gently placing Hermione on the ground. Propping her against the wall. As softly as if she was made of spun glass.
"Now sit beside her," Pippit ordered.
Scabior quickly complied. He didn't like it. Knew that the chains would be circling their wrists any second. But he didn't know what else to do. How else to keep Hermione safe. He kept his eyes fixed on her pale face as Pippit spat out a spell. The dull clink of metal slithering sounded and suddenly his wrists were encased. The rusty metal biting into his skin. Too tight to be anything near comfortable. A glance showed Hermione's slim wrists similarly encased.
"Pass me your wand," Pippit said crouching down to search for Hermione's.
Scabior snarled his displeasure, earning him a condescending look from Pippit. Who then slowed down his search. Letting his fingers linger on her arm as he pulled her wand free. Then he grabbed at Scabior's tucking them both away in his pocket.
"I trust you can entertain yourselves?"
Scabior ignored him instead shuffling to the side so that his thigh and shoulder touched Hermione's. She was still unconscious but breathing with a slow steady rhythm. A slight twitch showing that she would be waking soon. He'd need to be calm. Ready with answers for the thousand questions she was bound to ask. It was just unfortunate that he didn't have those answers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pippit leave the cellar. He refused to think about what would happen when he returned. But the Snatcher in him had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.
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