This scene takes place right after the golden trio are apprehended by the snatchers, and before they are taken to malfoy manor. I've taken a lot of liberties here, but hope you guys enjoy!
He had her by the back of her jacket and pushed her along as she willed her feet to stop stumbling on the roots and dirty forest ground. Hermione was exhausted. Days of little to no sleep as they took turns standing watch had taken their toll on her. She stumbled once more and cried out. The snatcher's arm went taut and he pulled her back to a standing position by her jacket. Too tired to glare at him, she turned, her eyes half closed.
"Please...need...to rest...," she spoke in her delerium.
She was rewarded with a shove from him; from the hand fisted in the back of her jacket. Her feet gave way once more as she cried out this time hitting the ground. She felt his hand release the grip on her as he walked towards the others. She couldn't make out any of the words as he walked away from her talking to his team. She was too tired to even consider running. She crumpled even further, her head falling into the dirty leaves.
She was startled as arms lifted her to her feet once more.
"Inside," he spoke gruffly, pulling her along with him.
She knew she was in a tent, but it was almost although she were drunk or walking in a dream. Spotting a bed she laid down on it and was out within seconds.
Scabior sat in a chair in the corner and pulled out a list from his jacket pocket. Crossing off a few more names he reached for his flask of firewhisky. He looked to the girl as he tipped the liquid back against his lips.
He had sent the others on. The boys were fine to walk. But the girl had needed rest. He wanted to make her walk but she simply couldn't and he refused to burden himself with carrying her the whole way.
He reached for his wand in its holster and performed the usual charms. She wouldn't be able to escape. Laying his booted foot on the table and crossing his other leg over it, he stretched back into the chair and worked at getting a few hours rest himself.
Harry was reaching out to her, calling her name and Ron was not far behind. She couldn't make out what they were saying. They were screaming, their mouths forming silent "o"s. It was horrible.
Hermione felt arms on her arms, shaking her violently. She sat with a start. Fuck. She was in the tent. With the snacher. Her heart pounded violently in her chest and she felt sweat on her brow.
"You were screaming," he said.
"I-I was dreaming...," she started.
"You woke me," he said gruffly. "Go back to sleep," he instructed, releasing his grip on her, turning back to his chair.
Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow and then wiped the back of her hand on the sheets. She focused on taking deep breaths, trying to calm her prickled nerves. Suddenly he was at her side again, thrusting a flask before her eyes.
"Drink it," he said.
She looked up at him, at his steely blue eyes. She shook her head 'no'.
"Drink it," he said coldly.
She looked up at him again. Oh Gods, he had nothing but coldness in his eyes. Hermione gingerly reached for the flask and brought it to her nose, smelling gingerly.
"Firewhisky," he continued.
She tipped it back against her lips cautiously and almost coughed as the strong liquid hit her. She wiped her hand across her lips and reached the other hand, holding the flask, out to him.
"No. More." He spoke quietly, menacingly.
She looked at him once more. Once more she was rewarded with that cold gaze. She slowly brought the flask back to her lips and took a large swig. It burned. She never drank firewhisky straight. She felt warmth as it tumbled down her throat. It was almost pleasant.
"Now go to sleep," he said, turning back to his chair.
Her eyes followed him as he sat. She was frozen in place on the bed. She leaned back slowly. Something about him was so cold. It frightened her. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the firewhisky take her over, and within moments, she was asleep once more.