Hello, y'all! Now I've finally managed to update. I wrote this chapter by hand while in sunny Portugal and when I came home I wrote it on my laptop. Thank you for the lovely reviews that met me when I returned. And I see that more people have "alerted" and "favourited" my story. I'm so happy! So here you go; another sweet chapter. I have the plot figured out for the future, and soon there will be more drama, so enjoy this while you can, mu ha ha ha ;)

Inspirational music: Perfect Day by Miriam Stockley


Chap. 29 Conquests

Hermione sensed Scabior's urge to go outside and she rose, with the blanket wrapped around her.

She swallowed back a moan at the small but nevertheless surprising pain that stabbed her in the center. But the feeling quickly wore off and soon she only experienced a negligible ache between her legs. Otherwise her body felt good, except for some muscles here and there that had worked last night.

She looked at Scabior on the other side of the rumpled bed and gave him a smile to assure him she was alright. He did not return the smile but he did wink at her and ducked to the floor. He reappeared, holding her light blue bra. For a moment Hermione wondered if he was going to let her fight for each garment, until he simply threw it to her.

"Get dressed," he ordered but Hermione hesitated with flushing cheeks. Even if she technically had had sex with Scabior two times she was still unused of displaying her naked body to him in merciless daylight. And she most certainly would not take her clothes and the blanket through the corridor to change in the bathroom and risk meeting Claire on the way.

"Could you please turn around for a moment?" she requested and tried to remember where she had put her wand so she could spell her clothes on herself. Scabior raised his eyebrows and crossed his strong arms in front of his bare chest, not embarrassed the least of his own nakedness.

"Why, love? I've looked closer at you than a seer does at a crystal ball. And you're mouthwatering."

It was impossible to not blush harder at his compliment but Hermione pretended to not have heard him and said more firmly, "Look, if you want me to follow you outside, then you better do this small favour for me."

Scabior sighed theatrically and held up his palms as if capitulating to her.

"Fine, treasure. No need getting so serious, though. I'm gonna dress myself with my back to you, okay?"

Truthful to his words, he turned around and it was only too easy to spot the long, thin and red marks that covered his pale shoulders and went down over his shoulder blades. Hermione stared at the harm she in her passion had caused on Scabior's body until they were covered by the now clean and mended green coloured jacket in a fluent movement.

"I can hear you standing still, beautiful. Is something wrong?" he said in a light manner to the wall in front of his eyes and picked up his wand from the night table before he waved it and made his untainted, checkered pants leave a drawer. Hermione lowered her gaze and began to change into her clothes that lay scattered on the floor near her.

After both of them were properly dressed, and Hermione had found her wand in a crease on the blanket on her own bed, they left the room and headed for the kitchen. Hermione was starved, but this time she did not hesitate to eat as much as she desired in front of Scabior's watchful eyes. They finished breakfast in silence and then Hermione popped into the bathroom for a moment. Once she was ready, Scabior placed one hand on the small of her back and escorted her to the front door and opened it for her with the other.

It was considerably warmer outside now compared to the icy night air. Even so, there was a breeze and the sun hid behind thick, grey clouds. As they walked through the field of grass and stones, Hermione appreciated the warm hand on her back and snuggled against Scabior's side. A frown appeared between his eyebrows and he muttered, "Why in the name of Salazar did you not think of bringing a thicker sweater?"

Hermione glanced at Scabior who had red roses on his cheeks and his open leather coat that probably spared him from the cruel wind which penetrated her own clothes.

"It's not a problem. I'll just cast a heating spell on us," she retorted and held out her wand. But before the incantation had left her lips, the hand on her back tugged at her and she found herself pressed into Scabior's taller side with some of his coat around her shoulders. Scabior did not stop walking and forced her with him but bent down his head to her ear and said reproachfully, "And miss out on being close to your favourite snatcher? I'm terribly insulted."

As a Gryffindor, Hermione tsked at him but all the same she leaned her head on Scabior's chest and they continued their walk as an odd-looking figure. When they got close to the cliffs where one could find a path down to the sea, Scabior stopped and gestured for her to sit down on the grass. She sat cross-legged beside him who had his long legs outstretched. He supported himself with two hands on the ground behind his back and turned his face to the sky.

"Merlin, it's nice to be outside again," he sighed contentedly and breathed in deeply a couple of times.

Ever the observant woman, Hermione studied him curiously and asked, "What's it like to be a true snatcher?"

"Not that I know how it's like to not be one but in my opinion, it's been a burden and a gift," Scabior admitted quietly and looked back at her with glowing eyes.

'Perhaps he's never talked about this with anyone', Hermione thought and continued softly, "Tell me more. I want to know about you."

"Alright, as long as you don't share this info with a soul. Do you promise me that, Hermione?"

She gave him a nod.

"The thing is, my story is in many ways linked to mum's, which I wanted to tell you about today."

Scabior reached for her hand and wove their fingers together before he abruptly said, "I know how old you are, it's on the lists." He waved his free hand as if was not something important and continued, "You're of age, for which I'm very grateful. But you've not yet asked me about my own age."

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, only Scabior beat her to it.

"I suppose it doesn't matter to you and that flatters me, especially since I look older and more haggard than I should due to my lifestyle. The fact is, I should've been younger." His fingers had stilled between Hermione's but she hardly noticed as she listened to his dark, and slightly sad voice.

"Mum is a beautiful 50-year-old witch. It's not so old in the wizarding world, particularly among purebloods. But she's not in her youth. And I'm 32 years old."

Scabior paused and threw a glance at Hermione, worry etched on his face. The announcement was not entirely a surprise to Hermione. She had known that Scabior was an adult and a fair bit older than she. But the age difference was not so striking when most wizards and witches lived to see their 120th birthday. She stroked her thumb over his fingers to encourage him to continue.

"It doesn't matter to me," she whispered and watched him relax at her words. He inhaled and stared out at the restless sea.

"So mum was eighteen when she had me. Barely a graduee from Hogwarts with wealthy pureblood parents and an eagerness to make something of herself. Her father got her a job as a secretary in a department in the Ministry. The kind of job that promises connections and promotions. She said to me, the only time she ever told me this story, how proud she was and that the position made her feel important. But then he came by."

Scabior growled bitterly and gazed with hard eyes at the seagulls that caught fish in the waves.

"The fucking prick who ruined mum's future. A tall, snobbish wizard that worked as a deputy in another department came to mum's office with an errand. But he probably left with his ugly head full of thoughts about the sweet girl with flaming red hair and eyes blue as the sky. And of course he came back, but only to talk with mum. And she was mesmerized by this bigwig who spolied her with small gifts and honeyed words. She fell in love with that bastard and he got her exactly where he wanted. On her back in a rented bed. Mum knew how a pureblood girl should behave and the fucking pig had promised her a marriage and a big, fancy place suited for a lady. The thing was, after the fucker had slept with her, he left without explanation. Mum managed somehow to return to her work that morning and waited for an owl from him. At the end of the day she with her love had still not abandoned hope and sent an owl to his department. It returned soon enough with an angry letter where the man wrote that he couldn't leave his wife and fulfill his promises to mum. Quite a shock for mum that one. Poor thing had not known that the wizard had been married and had four children."

Scabior laughed humorlessly and said in a hollow tone, "Mum was devastated but she soon learnt that the lying man was not the only trouble. She was a pregger at the age of 18 and unmarried and a pureblood. Shillyshally like any girl in her position, she turned to her parents. But their conservative beliefs had them disowning mum and exclude her from the family. They rather drank their cocktails in the pureblood society without a daughter than faced the shame she had brought on them and herself with her slutty behaviour. She was on her own in the big world. Without her father's bribes, her boss thought it useless to keep her.

But mum had decided to keep me no matter what the cost. Though it turned out it was difficult to rent an apartment without money. So she swalloed the remnants of her pride and sought out her old lover in the Ministry. He refused to acknowledge that baby in her belly and accused mum of trying to destroy his career with rumours that he was the father to her bastard. After their meeting the man left his job for another in the Ministry and mum vowed she would never try to find him again. I think she cried herself to sleep for a long time. Lucky for her, a kind pubowner didn't mind hiring a pregnant woman as a waitress and he even lended her money for the rent so she could save some of her salary for her baby. And then I came out; in a small room at St. Mungo's with only mum and healers around. But we managed to get by, even if the road got bumpy sometimes."

Scabior's voice faltered and he looked forlorn on the green grass of Ireland. Hermione inched herself closer and rested her head on his shoulder with her free hand clasped around his arm. She was touched by the story and sensed that Scabior needed comfort from her right now.

"I guess I understand now why Claire is like she is. She and you must have had a difficult life even if you had each other."

Scabior drew in a shuddering breath and mumbled in a desolated tone, "Yeah, it's been hard for her. Especially with me and my snatcher nature. I got her into trouble so many times in my childhood with my ideas and the thefts from our neighbours. Everytime she left the house, she had to apologize to people. No wonder she began to drink in her misery."

At that, Hermione raised her head and spoke with a steady voice, "Scabior, don't blame yourself for your mum's drinking problem. You were just a child when it started. The child she loved so much she kept it despite everything and healed when it got injured from playing. She told me that when you had apparated here and she had healed the wounds on your legs. And she still loves you. You never saw her when I first came here and told her that you had gone to meet the Dark Lord. She just...faded."

Scabior turned his head and gazed upon her with amazement.

"Fuckin' 'ell, ya're really tellin' me the truth?"

Hermione clenched her hand on his arm and persisted, "Yes, of course I'm not lying to you! I believe she loves you no matter what she says or does that make you doubt."


Scabior slowly licked his lips that had gone dry in the constant breeze and regarded Hermione, too perplexed to speak for the moment.

He sure as hell loved his mother despite her drinking habits. And she had been kind and patient with him when he was a toddler. And even between their tempestuous fights when he was a rebelling teenager and she was, in his eyes, a conservative embarassment there were peaceful moments when she taught him some pureblood manners that would not cause him or his acquaintances, male or female, any sorrow.

And then he moved out, intent on following whatever the snatcher within wanted. His sometimes dangerous life had made it difficult to resume contact with Claire when she lived a far bit from England. But when the clouds grew black and the evil spread amongst the wizarding world, he felt a need to visit her and make sure she would be alright. The hardcore man he had been then had convinced himself that it was the blood relation that made him cast an unknown number of protective spells to create a powerful shield around the cottage.

He had found back then that his mother had also changed. Their conversations were often stern, almost bordering on cruel. And they had not exchanged any words of love when he took off. But now he would not be able to lie to his mother if she asked him straight away whether he loved her. To hear Hermione describe his mother in so kind words had him muted. He had never met anyone who was so good at talking about feelings and yet not make him feel like an idiot only because he seldom had been sentimental with his mother. Hermione could perceive things he himself did not see and she could calm him when he got upset.

He raised his free hand and tucked one loose strand behind her ear. Those doe-like mocha eyes had a touch of wisdom as they contemplated him.

"A fine observation, 'ermione," he said, still a little uneasy and continued, "Come ta think 'bout it, ya now know quite a bit 'bout me an' mum. An' I got ta tell ya 'bout mum's problem that worries me. She came 'ome this mornin' with too many fuckin' bottles. So I told 'er my opinion an' took some bottles, just ta keep mum from drinkin' all o' them."

Scabior chuckled, "I honestly think she accepted my interferance, because she hardly protested. I only wanted to get it off my mind."

Hermione bravely held his gaze and then she said, "It's perfectly okay to feel that way, Scabior. And if you ever want to talk with me you can seek me out again. I'll listen to you."

She suddenly moved swiftly as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard, which surprised but did not annoy Scabior. He hugged her back and his relief after the revelations had been said made all stress vanish and only his usual mood remained.

He leaned back so his back rested on the soft grass and brought Hermione with him until she was perched on top of him as a replication of their first snogging session. He allowed her to raise her head and she had an amused look on her face.

"This seems familiar," she sniggered and gently brushed hair from his forehead with cool fingertips.

"Tell me something about you, Hermione." He looked up at her thoughtful face surrounded by grey clouds that swept by in a hurry. She was an angel and she fitted perfectly in his arms. But then she moved those red and slightly swollen lips and Scabior had to concentrate on listening to her.

"Well, I guess it's harmless to reveal that in the future I wish to work at the Ministry, but be a righteous and uncorrupted worker at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I personally think it's horrible how some beings in the wizarding world are treated, and I want to change that."

Her eyes were lit fires, her cheeks burnt from excitement and she spoke determinedly with passion in her voice. Scabior was utterly fascinated by her, and even if the thing she had told him seemed radical he was not directly opposed to the thought. Actually, he always felt a twinge of satisfaction when old, conservative pureblood families were hit by new laws.

His hands skimmed down to rest on her jeansclad bum.

"Interesting to hear, beautiful. Seems like you're the witch for the task," he smiled but then lowered his voice to a husky tone and mumbled, "But what I'm more interested of, is knowing who else you've kissed."

Her eyes flickered but otherwise her body did not betray what she thought.

"That's a very personal subject, Scabior."

She dodged his question which made Scabior grimace.

"Aww, come on, love! I wanna know! Besides, I've told you loads of personal information only minutes ago. I want something back."

He pretended to be astounded by her evasive answer but grinned cheekily at her. However, beneath the playful surface, he really needed to know. He knew he was a bit petty but the snatcher and he himself demanded the truth from their pretty treasure. Scabior told himself it had nothing to do with jealousy, it was just the protective and territorial instinct in him that showed itself.

And now he saw how Hermione chewed on her lip before she opened her mouth and told him, "I've been kissed by one other man."

On the inside, Scabior cursed but on the outside he settled for bringing her body down to his and said calmly, "Who?"

She frowned for a moment before she retorted, "Why is this so important to you? Am I not allowed to keep any personal information to myself?"

Wincing at her tone, Scabior understood he moved on very thin ice. After some seconds of contemplation, he opted for a new approach to quell his secret curiosity.

"I only wanted to know what you've done with other men. Has anyone else made you moan from a kiss?"

"Stop it."

Hermione's voice had dropped too but it held no sign of anger. Scabior proceeded as he languidly massaged her behind.

"Did anyone else open your sweet mouth and coaxed your tongue to dance? How many men have played with your breasts and licked your nipples until you got so wet you soaked your knickers?"

She began to wriggle on him but not to get away. On the contrary, she subtly rubbed her mounds back and forth against his jacket. Scabior slid his hand to her hip and followed every move from her with it. His own lust pulsed in his veins and headed towards his groin. But his possessiveness was not easily forgotten and with a tug at her hipbone, he lifted her from him and denied her any contact with his body. She stared bewildered at him and whimpered.

"Tell me the name of those who you've given permission to touch your body. Please, Hermione."

The last part came out more desperate than Scabior had intended and yet he did not regret it. Apparently he had once again been as equally disarmed by her as she had been by him. She met his searching eyes and gave in.

"Only Viktor Krum. At the Triwizard Tournament. He kissed me on my cheek."

Scabior lowered her slightly but stopped when barely two inches separated her frame from his.

"Nothing and no-one else?" he asked with suspicion. Thank Morgana that ugly quidditch player currently was rumoured to hide somewhere in Eastern Europe. Hermione let out a pitiful sob and shook her head vigorously.

"No! Oh, Godric! Please...please!"

Desire had driven her to incoherency and apparent need, which made Scabior's arousal harder.

"Please what, my beautiful girl?"

"Please let me, let me touch you!"

"Thank you for your cooperation," he drawled and allowed her pelvis to finally meet his. A sigh slipped past her lips and she immediately resumed gyrating her hips against him in insistent moves.

"I take it you're not angry with me," Scabior panted and thrusted his hips up to meet her which made both of them let out their first moans. Hermione sought out his mouth and bit down lightly on the bottom lip before she blurted out, "Shut up, you sneaky Slytherin snatcher and kiss me!"

She growled and Scabior did not plan to torture himself any longer. He raised his head and found her mouth ready for him. Distantly he felt her hips buck against his hard on and he groaned into her open mouth. He had to tear himself from her hot cavern and breath in air scented with salt sea and vanilla, before he could compose real sentences.

"One question left, my lovely, but this time I know the answer. Have you ever...mmmnnn! Oh, shit! Stop fuckin' movin' on me! 'ave ya ever made love with a man in the open? No? Well, there's a first time fer everythin'."

He turned them over and settled between her thighs. It did not take long before he had cast the contraceptive spell on her, removed their pants and transfigured his coat into a soft blanket to protect them from the wind. From the moment he sank into her sodden pussy with a forceful thrust, to the moment she screamed out her orgasm and clenched so tightly around him he fell over the edge too, they kissed repeatedly as if they also made love to each other's mouths.