EDITED: 08/17/2015

Chapter Twelve

The mood over the next few days was sour. Barely any words had passed between the three of them, only tense directions barked here or there every time they moved camp. Which had grown to be quite frequent. At least once a day, sometimes two and once three, which Olive found redundant, but knew better than to protest. The men bickered back and forth, Scabior saying Greyback didn't bind the escaped wizards tight enough, Greyback blaming Scabior for not coming back and helping. Olive's nerves were on edge, her twitching growing with each word they spat at each other.

They were bickering now and Olive had enough.

"You're like children," she spat, standing from the kitchen table and stalking outside the tent. She wasn't sure what day it was or even what month, but the chill here didn't bite as hard as every other place they'd been.

Not knowing where Weasley was gave her enough reason to be anxious, but with Scabior and Greyback at each other's throats, it was too much. If Weasley already made his way back to Hermione and Potter, then it was another plan to throw in the trash. The only thing was that she wouldn't know if he returned until her plan was in full effect and that could make things turn dangerous in a heartbeat. If Olive showed up and told Hermione that Weasley was in trouble and Ron had already returned, they would be on to her. It could get ugly.

Still, she hadn't told either of the men about Weasley being who he was and she didn't intend to. Not yet, anyway. Greyback would be told when she got the chance, but Scabior had yet to take her bait. All the stress from chasing after these pirate radios had pushed his thoughts of sex onto the back burner. And she needed him to think of sex, she needed him to want it so he would take her somewhere she could find parchment and ink. If she had to dip her fingers in an inkwell and smudge out the words, she would do it. But first she needed the ink and something to smudge it on.

Maybe she should bring it up herself. The thought danced around her head for a while as she found a clean patch of grass for a seat.

The men were grating her nerves and she felt a need for escape. If she just went in there and told him she was leaving for the night, what would he do? Olive could see the most abashed look on his face and the thought was so ridiculous that it made her head dip into her hands, grin lighting up her face like it hadn't in months.

"What'er you smilin' about?"

Olive didn't dare look up at Scabior. His appearance only made her duck her head to her knees, trying to hide the shaking in her shoulders from holding in a laugh.

"What-," she squeaked, pausing when a giggle escaped her, "What would you do if I told you I was leaving for the night with no explanation?"

Olive knew she had to look stark raving mad. Just moments ago she'd snapped on the two of them and now she was unable to control herself, laughing like a lunatic.

When she looked up at him and he was making the exact face she pictured - brow tucked, nostrils flared, mouth agape as if unbelieving that she had the audacity to say such a thing - she fucking lost it. Her laughter howled so loud that a few birds scattered from the trees and Greyback burst from the tent with his wand drawn, thinking they were under attack. It made Olive laugh even harder. Maybe she had gone stark raving mad.

Olive laughed and laughed and laughed, the world spinning, her body jerking, the nausea setting in. It didn't stop her. When she stumbled over to the trees and bent to vomit, she nearly choked from laughing. Even after, when Greyback had gone back inside with the shake of his head, she giggled like mad. Scabior stood and watched her with a blank expression. It made it even funnier.

In the end, that's what got her to a motel. It wasn't that she asked or that Scabior fell for her ploy. Scabior took her because she'd gone mad and he was finally going to have to mercy kill her. He couldn't deny the dread in his stomach at the thought. But, there was no doubt in his mind when she burst into another fit of laughter as he Imperio'd the desk clerk at the muggle motel to hand over the keys to a room.

"You're afraid the wizarding world will see what you've done," she said, shaking with laughter despite the look of blame that flooded her eyes.

'No,' he thought, 'I don't want them to see what I'm going to do.'

Scabior had the worst feeling that she wanted to stop laughing, but couldn't. It made this even harder. Each step up the dark, concrete stairwell was accompanied by her hollow laughter. The sound was growing darker and darker, like she knew what he was leading her to do, and he could hardly stand it. When they entered the motel room, Olive felt the air change between them, but she just couldn't stop giggling.

"Shut up, shut up!" he demanded, the door clicking behind him. With a spurt of laughter, she put a finger to her lips.

"Shh," she said, grin dominating her face, "Muggle motels aren't sound proof." The blank look was beginning to creep into her eyes and he feared that was the last of his Olive he would ever see.

"Stop laughing," he said, grabbing her shoulders and giving a rough shake. Olive knew she couldn't handle his wrath, but there was something else besides anger in his eyes that kept the giggles spilling from her throat. "Stop it, stop it!"

When she didn't, he lost it and struck her across the face. Olive gave a violent jerk, her legs giving out, and she continued laughing from the floor, curled against the wall. When he kicked her in the ribs, she roared, tears spilling from both laughter and pain.

Scabior grabbed her by the hair, jerking her up onto one of the beds.

"Olive, stop laughing!" he repeated, shaking her by the front of her coat so hard that he didn't notice her starting to jerk. Olive knew what was happening and did nothing to stop it or her laughter. With each shake he gave her, Scabior's face filled with more and more desperation and she just couldn't help herself.

His forearm went to her throat, pinning her neck to the bed and laying on top of her. Then he felt it, the violent convulsions running through her body that shook even him. Olive looked at him with wild eyes, chin tucked against his arm as if she was trying to hold it there against her neck, still laughing through clenched teeth. It wasn't her anymore. It wasn't old Olive or even new Olive. It was something else inside her, something dark and crazed that dared him to kill her.

"Olive, stop," he said, all anger gone from his voice, replaced with thinly laced fear. He pulled his forearm from her as if her skin had burned him. "You're shaking really bad, you need to stop." It was one continuous shake now and Scabior couldn't tell the convulsions from the laughter.

"I thought you said I was beautiful when I smiled," she mocked. Olive's chest gave a jerk so violent that Scabior thought something was trying to burst out from inside her body. A panicked huff tightened in his throat when he watched her eyes roll back in her head.

"Olive, that's enough," he said when her eyes returned to him, the sick feeling rolling in his stomach. He didn't want to kill her like this. They both deserved a better experience. "I order you to stop laughing."

To his horror, she didn't stop. A pain wrenched through her chest, heart beginning to pound through her body, starting in her chest, then her throat, then everywhere. The Vow.

"Olive, stop," he said and Olive watched raw fear cross his eyes for the first time. "Olive stop, you're dying!"

It was a wheezing laugh now, Olive clutching her chest, looking up at him with a crazed grin.

"It's worth the look on your face," she said. Even though her eyes were growing bloodshot, they still mocked him. When her fists clenched from the pain coursing through her, Scabior did the only thing he could think of. He crawled over her with a grunt, pinning down her arms with his knees, and clenched his fists. Back and forth, back and forth they socked into her face. Olive laughed for the first few blows, but the more bloody her face grew, the less noise she made. Then she was still.

"I'm sorry," he muttered into her hair. Olive had the nerve to say it to his face, but Scabior couldn't do the same in return.

There was no more laughing when Olive woke up. A headache roared inside her skull like nothing she had ever felt before. It hurt to open her eyes, but she did, and the first thing she saw was the bloody rag laying in the floor. The second was Scabior watching her from the chair in the corner. They just looked at each other for a long moment.

There was nothing to be said.

Olive got up, body shaking, and stumbled into the bathroom. She avoided the mirror. After seeing herself beaten and downtrodden in the reflection so many times, she had no desire to see more. Instead, she turned on the taps to the shower and peeled her clothes off, having to stop several times from the pain. The water hurt even more. It was a quick shower because of that and if every fiber of her being except for one little cell hated Scabior, then that lone cell appreciated him at least cleaning her face up while she was out. Her face would have taken awhile to clean and her legs wouldn't have held up standing that long. When she got out, she wrapped a white towel around her and went back into the room soaking wet. Olive couldn't remember if they'd brought her bag and everything hurt too much to check.

Blood stained the bed from earlier and so she laid down on the other, not bothering to pull back the covers. For a while, they just looked at each other again. Intense didn't do the experience justice. There was hatred burning behind their eyes, but also a mutual respect. Something was inside her that was willing to kill herself to have the last laugh and something was inside him willing to stop her. This was new for both of them. It drifted unsaid between their stares.

"Let's just go to sleep," she finally said, never taking her sight from his.

Scabior sat there for a few minutes more, finishing his cigarette despite the no smoking sign tacked to the wall behind him. When he finished, he lifted each foot into his lap and unlaced his boots, never looking away from her. With that done, he crossed the room and crawled onto the bed beside her. There had to be two feet between them.

"I hate you," she said, reaching up to extinguish the light.

"I hate you, too."

When Olive woke the next morning, she'd been dressed and the covers were pulled over her. Scabior's arm was draped beneath hers and over her waist. Their forearms ran along each other, Olive's hand resting on top of his. It wasn't until he began to stir several minutes later that she drew it away.

"You should have let me die," she said, eyeing the pen and paper next to the phone. The bed shifted and his nose ran through the patch of hair behind her ear.

"I'll be sorry that I didn't."

'Yes,' she thought, 'For once we agree.'

Olive nodded off for a while longer, the sun barely peeking through the open curtains. It only seemed like a few minutes, but when Scabior gave her a gentle shake, the light was blaring across the other bed.

"Greyback'll be gettin' angry, we've got to go soon."

"Fuck him," Olive muttered, digging her head back into the pillow. When her pillow moved, she realized it was his arm beneath her neck. That answer seemed more than enough for Scabior, who drew her in closer to his chest.

"He's not here, you don't have to fucking suffocate me," she said in annoyance, fidgeting and trying to get out of his grip, though his arms were like steel, unyielding. Even the small display of control was too much and she managed to roll toward him with a nasty look. It only made him grip her tighter, his face never moving except his eyes, which were in constant motion scanning her face. It was getting difficult to breathe, he was squashing her to him, her arms so tight between their chests that she couldn't even move her fingers. "Scabior, stop," she said, brow tucked in annoyance, trying to wriggle backwards from him but going nowhere.

"Don't ever -," he said, jerking her to him so tight that her breath left in a whimper, "- pull that shit with me again. That's a fuckin' order."

For just a moment, he had his Olive back. There was a tremble through her bottom lip, a quiver in her wide eyes. But, his Olive would have fought back, would have said something nasty. This Olive just stared at him, brow slightly tucked. But, there was enough fear in her eyes to make his cock grow against her and the strangled noise she made when he jerked her head back to kiss the hollow of her throat sent him over the edge.

By the time he finished with her, housekeeping was knocking on the door. Scabior ignored them, enjoying the sleepy feeling that flooded through him as he traced his fingers over her nipples, making them hard again.

"We've got to go," she muttered, refusing to look at him. Scabior sighed, but nodded, taking her nipple with his tongue for a moment before leaving her in bed. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed the pained expression on her face or not.

"Can't you go back to normal?" she asked, face tense, not daring to look at him. There was a muted venom laced in each word. Scabior stopped and turned, looking her over for a moment. Olive laying there naked in the disheveled sheets was a bittersweet sight.

"I will when you do," he said.

The woods seemed dreary and uninviting compared to the warm bed they'd shared the night before. Olive shook the thought from her brain as she slid her backpack under the bed. No, too suspicious. She pulled the canvas bag back out and propped it against the wall. It was important it didn't look out of place. If Scabior found the pen and paper and unraveled her plan, he may not be as gentle as he was last night after he beat her.

Gentle.

Olive shuddered and pushed that thought from her head, too.

It took another two days before she broke free long enough to scribble a letter. The pad of paper was small and she ended up writing several sheets, which she rolled into a tube and shoved down in her boot.

I know how to get Harry Potter. When I last ran from Scabior, they found me and took me in. I made friends with the girl. One of the Potter Pirates was Ron Weasley, the third person traveling with Potter. I lied to you two so I could question him and I'm so sorry for it. Please don't be angry with me. He said they got into an argument and he left. Weasley listened to all the pirate radio shows and that's how he ended up with the Potter Pirates. I asked and he said Hermione listened to the shows, too. I have a plan and if you work with me, all the gold from Potter is yours. All I want out of this is Hermione unharmed and Scabior dead. If you promise me those two things, I'll bring Potter to you. There isn't time to wait for your answer, it's taken me nearly a week to get my hands on this paper. If you don't want in, please just burn this, out of our friendship. Please don't let Scabior know because he'll kill me. If you're in, I need you to go back to where the Potter Pirates were broadcasting when you attacked. I don't know what the damage was, but fix any broken equipment and get the station back on the air. When you do, repeat the following: 'This message is from Olive Oil to the girl she sat next to in third year Muggle Studies. Your red friend is in trouble. Meet me where I left you, tonight at sundown. Leave H, too dangerous.' You may have to go back at different times and repeat it. This could take a few days. Send me out for dinner every night so I have an excuse to apparate and see if she showed up. Always apparate a few minutes after me to Fleet Forest where we camped. Tell him you're checking on camping sites or to see if your last guy showed up at the Ministry yet. He can't know we're meeting, he's jealous of you and would forbid me from interacting with you. I'll meet you in Fleet Forest each night, with her or without. If she is with me, you hide her and keep her safe, but not able to escape. Don't let Scabior near her. I'll get her to tell me where Potter is and impersonate her. When Potter sleeps, I'll bag him and bring him back to camp. Don't kill Scabior until I return. I want to watch.

It was another day before she got to slip it to Greyback. Scabior had stepped outside to get the fire going for the day and she went toward the werewolf so quick that she nearly tripped over her own feet. Greyback looked at her like she was daft when she pulled the note from her boot. In her pockets, panties, or bra, there was always a chance of Scabior finding it. The paper was wrinkled now, but Olive knew it was still readable.

"Hide it," she mouthed, laying the note in his giant hands before scuttling off to where she stood before. Greyback's brow tucked, but he nodded and shoved it in his pocket.

Later, after lunch, Greyback emerged from the bathroom, fighting hard to control his grin. When Scabior wasn't looking, the werewolf glanced at Olive and nodded.