Hey guys, thanks for the reviews so far. It means a lot. I'm working on chapter four now so if you have any ideas for what you would like to see in the rest of the story don't hesitate to send me a message! Well, without further ado *fanfare* here is chapter three! Oh and I still don't own Harry Potter or anything in it. Grr.

Fionne hated apparation; it always gave her a severe urge to vomit. As Scabior released her hand - he had taken her by side-along apparation - she clamped it over her mouth and took deep breaths through her nose. Scabior turned to her,

"Alright there, love?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," she removed her hand from her mouth and looked around. The were in Hogsmeade. It hadn't changed much since her days at Hogwarts so she recognised it immediately although she had never been in this part before: they were outside the Hog's Head and she could see, through the darkness, the Shrieking Shack in the distance.

"Thought it was time to introduce you to your new… colleagues," he made to walk inside but he stopped and turned to her again, "Now, love, some o' them ain't too keen on the idea of female snatchers. Think it's a man's job, see? Just don't say anything' out o' turn and you'll be fine. Oh, an' take me arm, that way they'll know you're wi' me an won't give you no 'assle," He extended a leather-clad arm for her to take. She took it and they walked together into the pub.

It was not difficult to spot Scabior's "colleagues" among the rest of the drinkers in the pub: they were all of a menacing demeanour and were slightly less bleary-eyed than the other customers. They were huddled round a table in a dimly lit corner of the pub near the bar. One was smoking a pipe, another was applying thick black paste to his eyes and the largest and most fierce-looking one was scowling and growling at anything that moved. The rest were milling around with large tankards in their hands.

"Now remember wha' I said, love, an' everythin' will be alright," Scabior whispered to Fionne as they approached the table.

The sinister-looking one bolted straight upright when he saw her, like a hound spotting a fox, with a strange leering smile on his face.

"What's this then, Scabior?" he rumbled in an a gruff voice, "What's this? Some whore tagged on to you, eh? Thought we agreed-"

"Gentlemen," Scabior cut in to stop Fionne saying something, "may I introduce your new colleague: Miss Fionne Goldings,"

The men looked at her in astonishment.

"You what?" the one applying black paste piped up.

"Shut it, Collins,"

"You've brought a girl to work with us? Are you tryin' to slow us down or somethin'?" the sinister looking man growled.

"Greyback, listen, this girls got guts. She hit Yaxley earlier for bein' too friendly. Yaxley, Greyback! She'll work 'ard an' she'll earn 'er keep. While she's wi' us she's in my charge, understand? Don't go pawin' at 'er or givin' 'er 'assle,"

"She's a girl, Scabior!" Greyback roared, "D'you actually think she could keep up with us if she tried? She'll be too worried about breakin' a nail or messin' up her hair. She'll just slow us down!" Sacbior was about to shout his reply when the rather vacant-looking pipe-smoker, who appeared to have been mulling over something while this conversation was going on, stopped smoking, blew a ring of smoke into the air and asked,

"Is she your girlfriend, boss?"

"Shut your mouth, Stebbins, if you know what's good for you!"

"Alrigh' I was only askin'!" he seemed to think for a moment before interjecting again, "Can I 'ave 'er then?"

He was silenced by a quick dig in the ribs from Collins.

"Now listen to me," Scabior leant across the table, glaring at them all, "any more talk like that, from any of you, an' I'll take you to the Ministry an' tell 'em you're a filthy mudblood, do I make meself clear?"

The table was silent except from a grunt of disgust from Greyback. Stebbins then spoke again,

"But Boss, none o' us are mudbloods," he appeared genuinely confused.

Scabior rolled his eyes away from him an turned to Fionne,

"Right, you'll bunk wi' me tonight-" this got a snigger from Stebbins who was again dug in the ribs, "an' tomorrow you'll start your trainin'. I know you got guts but it'll take more than that to bag a mud blood," he turned to the table again, "Right lads, bedtime. Oh an' Stebbins,"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I don't want to hear o' you givin' the lass any jip or you'll answer to me, clear?"

"Sure, Boss," Stebbins staggered to his feet, made to leave the bar but couldn't resist blowing Fionne a kiss as he left. Scabior stunned him and he was dragged upstairs to the rooms above the pub by Collins who was shaking his head.

Greyback was the last to leave and gave Fionne a truly contemptuous glare as he passed her. When he had gone Scabior spoke to Fionne.

"Sorry about that, love. Told you they don't like the idea o' women in the group. An' give me a shout if Stebbins tries anythin'. 'E don't learn,"

Fionne nodded and yawned. It really was getting late, "Sorry, love, I forgot you've 'ad an 'ard day. Come on, we'll get you a place to kip,"

He helped her up the stairs and ushered her into a room on the right. "This is our room for the night-"

"Our room?"

"Yeah," he seemed completely unfazed by her incredulity and took off his boots before climbing into the bed, "Now kick your shoes off,"

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" He simply patted the space next to him, "You're not serious?"

After ten minutes and a slight argument about propriety, morality and general awkwardness Fionne lay as far away as she possibly could from the man fast asleep next to her.

'Crikey,' she thought, 'What a day! How am I supposed to be a snatcher of all things? How am I going to stay away from Greyback and Stebbins? How am I-'

Her thoughts were interrupted when Scabior turned over in his sleep and slid an arm around her.

'Well, if things could get any more uncomfortable for me I'd be surprised,"

She tried to move Scabior's arm but he only tightened his grip. Resigning herself to a very awkward position she slowly drifted to sleep.