Splinched

Harry and Ron have been rescued by the Order and Hermione is left to Scabior and the Snatchers.


'Looks like you're with us beautiful.'

His hungry eyes searched over the girl now held up by Fenrir and one of the other Snatchers. Her eyes glared back at him with rage. It was too early for hate. She would learn to hate him and then fear him, have no doubt about that. For now rage would do.

'We camp 'ere. An' shut 'er up. Otherwise I will.' A grimace painting Scabiors face with these words.

Hermione stopped her struggles instantly.

Shit. She knew what that meant. She guessed what it meant but she had a pretty good guess at what that meant. She looked down at herself. The battle to escape before and left her with blood drying on her hands and head, her knees absorbing the blood from her bleeding knees. Otherwise she felt sore and bruised, hoping that the pain shooting up her right shoulder was simply a very bruised shoulder and not a broken arm.

How could they leave her. Her? Hermione Granger? The brightest witch of her age left to fend for herself. On one level it made sense: Harry would always be the priority and logically she should be able to work out how to escape successfully and return to the Order in the quickest time.

Logically.

But why not at least try to rescue her instead of being content they had got Harry. Did she mean that little to the Order? Was she really so worthless as everyone had always said?

'Oi beautiful. Get 'ere.'

She looked up to see Scabior standing outside a faded yellowing tent. She swallowed and breathed.

She put her right foot forward before falling straight to the ground, mud covering her face. The Snatchers turned and howled at her, jeering as she tried to get herself up. One came and kicked her hands out from beneath her so she fell back down on her right shoulder. She winced as the pain shot up her arm like a cannon ball.

Fuck. Why today? Why her? She fought back tears welling up inside her. She couldn't let them win. They wouldn't win. There was nothing to win.

'Oi, Oi! Can 'er majesty not get off the floor or do I 'av to drag 'er?' jeered Scabior.

This was going to be easy. She'd last an hour at tops before begging for mercy. He always liked it when they begged. No he liked it just before they begged when the light went out in their eyes. That way he knew he'd won. That they'd never say no.

He waited a moment, watching her as the Snatchers started circling the her. He knew he should let them have their fun. If they didn't have at least two fights a day then trouble would always come up. But he quite wanted the girl today and not about to break before he got her to the bed.

'OI! Leave 'er! Go find somethin' for later.'

'But you always take 'hem.' shouted one of the Snatchers, grabbing Hermione by the hair.

'Yeah when 're we gettin' one?' 'When I say you can 'av one an' right now this one's mine.' growled Scabior, snatching Hermione back and pulling her up so he could throw her over his shoulder.

Hermione screamed involuntarily. She didn't mean to scream. She couldn't let them know her fear. She could let him know of all people. She kicked herself.

Stupid Hermione. Stupid stupid Hermione.

She tried to roll off Scabiors shoulder, desperate to not enter the tent. Her wild legs hit Scabior in the stomach, winding him as she let rip and screamed out.

'Bitch SHUT IT!' earning her a slap on the arse and the Snatchers wolf whistles as they both entered the tent.

God help her


Disclaimer I do not own the characters nor the cover image. JK Rowling and ?q=scabior+hermione#/art/Scabior-and-Hermione-188902833?_sid=73cba223 own characters and the cover image