Chapter Two
Upon returning to the tent Hermione had been rebuked by Harry, warning her not to wear perfume next time.
As if she needed telling.
And as if there would ever be a next time!
But as the weeks went on, and the animosity between the three of them rose, Hermione found herself questioning if maybe it would have been better if she'd been captured by the Snatchers.
Ron and Harry were fighting again.
And maybe it would have been better if she had been taken, because she saw Ron advancing on Harry all too angrily. Without thinking she cast a spell.
"Protego."
All of them were forced back by the strength of the spell, her and Harry on one side of the shield, Ron on the other. And why had she done that? Why wasn't he listening?
Why hadn't she made a noise? Saved herself from this by making a noise all those weeks ago.
Because Ron was walking out of the tent. He wasn't listening to a word she was saying… no, shrieking. And she was calling after him, the rain thundering down on her, but she barely noticed.
"RON!"
With her final sob, a crack sounded over the noise of the rain, telling her that somewhere in the darkness, Ron had apparated.
And that was when she realised that her cheeks were wet, and not from the rain.
That was when she steeled herself and went inside. Told Harry he was gone, and sat down to cry.
And she almost had been caught, all those weeks ago. And all because she was wearing perfume for him. For the red-haired stranger, who had just ignored her cries. For Ronald Weasley, who had heard them, and still abandoned her.
Hermione had tied her pink scarf around a tree before she and Harry left the camp.
She tried to put off their departure for as long as possible, but Harry was not so reluctant. And she knew he was right. It wasn't safe for them to stay so long in one place. And they needed to keep moving, to keep searching. They needed to work out where to go next.
Upon apparating to their new destination, however, Hermione fell to her knees. Despite the usual feeling of having the wind swept from her, she felt empty. Ron had left them. He had left her.
No matter what doubts she had ever had concerning his feelings, she had always, firmly believed that he would never abandon her. Not like that. And the fact that they were now away from him, completely apart, with no way for him to find them… well. She didn't know how to feel… other than empty.
After the incident at Godric's Hollow, Hermione was even more careful with how diligently she protected Harry. In all the commotion, his wand had snapped in half. She was now the only thing standing between the rest of the world and the Boy-Who-Lived. She couldn't bare it if anything happened to him. So she gave him her wand, making him keep a hold of it as much as possible.
And it was like she'd lost a limb.
Adding her loss of Ron, to the constant lending of her wand to Harry, Hermione felt more vulnerable than ever. It was worse at night, when she lay asleep in her bunk.
Amidst her usual nightmares, the ones where white masks shone back at her in the darkness, a new fear rose. Amidst the screams, the fright, the nose-less face of what Hermione knew to be Voldemort, was those eyes. Those hunting, piercing, calculating eyes.
And they hunted her out. They had her running in the darkness from all those other fears. Fears that should have been far greater to her, but weren't.
They made her feel vulnerable, isolated… naked some how.
So when Ron returned a few nights later, despite her anger, she welcomed him. Thinking that perhaps with his return, the nightmares would end.
But they didn't.
They only gave her more reason to fear being alone after dark. They made her jump at every noise, turn at every passing shadow. That man was out there somewhere, the one with piercing eyes that unknowingly seemed to search her soul. And all he seemed to have drawn from her was fear.
The fear that she would once again be found, alone in the forest. And the whole incident had driven home the fact of how thoroughly ridiculously dangerous it was for her to be a female, alone in the woods.
But she wasn't alone now right?
She had never ireally/i been alone. Not with Harry there. And now Ron. It would be okay… right?
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself… it was never enough.
It was early. Too early. And still too dark outside.
The previous night had been a pleasant one. Harry, Ron and herself had sat around, laughing about old times as Ron reported back on the whereabouts and safety of the Order. Although not a funny thing in itself, the conversation had focused on the twin's current antics as Ron had informed them of their radio station- Potter Watch.
She'd had three good nights sleep with no nightmares.
Perhaps that was the stupid reason she decided to venture outside?
Still clad in light-gray pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved, baby-blue top, Hermione had wandered outside. She stretched, her top rising and showing a vast expanse of her flat, toned belly. Her pyjama bottoms hung low on her hips as she shivered in the cold, wrapping herself back up in her blanket.
She held the woolen blanket round her, trying to tame her sleep-tussled hair back into place. The sun had risen but it was still dim, grey and silent. A fog hung about the trees, but oddly it made her feel safer. Like they would be harder to see, even if her barriers were broken.
She yawned and made her way down the leaf-strewn slope towards the lake. She would settle down there and take in the morning scenery, work out where they should go next, before the boys woke. She wanted to give them time to sleep. Time to rest.
Her fleece-lined boots warmed her cold feet as she slipped past the trees and slipped slightly on the damp leaves. Soon enough she was at the small, frozen lake, drowsy but appreciating the beauty of the foggy dawn.
She walked carefully over to the lake, seeing that vast expanse of the ice had cracked around the edges of it. She crouched down and cupped the freezing cold water in her hands, before splashing it on her face. It was so refreshing as it ran down her neck that she almost didn't noticed the noise in the tree behind her.
A bird took flight suddenly, making her look up, following its flight. She wrapped the blanket round her tighter, rising slowly to her full height. She stood, silent and still as she peered around, waiting for some sign that she was not alone.
But she received none. No more birds took hurried flights. No woodland creatures foraged. Only the fog remained with her, impeding her view. She decided to get back. This just wasn't the nice, comforting idea she had first thought.
She turned, stepping carefully, heading back the way she came. It was as she approached the tree the bird took flight from, however, that a noise made her look up.
iThud./i
There, before her, having just jumped gracefully from the tree… was her Snatcher.
Yes… her Snatcher. Because those piercing eyes were real this time and the man before her was smirking.
Her heart pounded. She'd made ianother/i foolish mistake. And they all seemed to happen around this man.
"Hello Beautiful."
His smooth voice made her heart still. His dark-rimmed eyes looked her up and down the once, before his smirk widened.
This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be possible. She'd put up the wards!
But then she remembered that Ron had volunteered to do that job. Ron had circled the camp, tired after several nights on guard, trying to make his disappearance up to her. Merlin. Oh Merlin.
Hermione stepped back, holding the blanket tightly around her trembling form. The Snatcher before her was approaching slowly, stalking towards her lazily. His hair was shaggy, brown and wild- long and tangled with a red streak through it. He was clad in black boots, dark plaid trousers and a dark studded belt. To accompany them he wore a black duster jacket with what looked like a brown waistcoat beneath it.
His general appearance was shabby- what she expected from someone who appeared to trample through the forest all day. He probably slept there as well for all she knew. But despite the dirt, the shabbiness and the fear that he was inducing in her, those eyes looked far too clean in contrast.
Hermione tried to move her arm beneath the blanket, reaching for her wand, which lay at the waistband of her pyjama bottoms.
"Ah-Ah!" The Snatcher wagged his finger once, humour evident in his eyes as he watched her. His wand had been in his other hand the whole time, and with barely a flick and a mutter, she felt her wand slip from her waistband before it flew into his hand.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to call for Ron, call for Harry. Call for anyone that might help her.
But then they'd be in danger too. What if he wasn't alone? All she could hope was that she had foolishly wandered that little bit too far, beyond Ron's magical borders of protection. Because if she hadn't, then the boys were at risk too. And if this man found them, it would be her fault.
Hermione took another step back, trying to steel herself against the panic that raced inside her. She had faced far greater fears than this… so why then did he terrify her so much?
"What do you want?" Hermione questioned boldly, grateful that her voice didn't betray her true emotion.
"At last… she speaks!" The Snatcher jokingly exclaimed. "I was beginning to think I'd caught a mute."
"You haven't caught me yet." Hermione muttered under her breath. The jolt of amusement in his eyes told him he had heard her.
"Be careful girl. It's the chase I love the best." He waggled his eyebrows slightly, suggestively. She took a step back.
He took another step towards her.
"Imagine my surprise, as I sat, napping in the branches of that tree…" He motioned at the tree behind him with his wand. "When a young lady wandered into view."
His smirk was too wide, too evident. It was freezing her blood more than the coldness of the weather around her was. She stepped back again, reminding herself to stay calm, to stay quiet. She could talk her way out of this… she had to.
"What do you want?" She questioned again, slightly louder. She held the blanket in her hands so tightly that they ached.
"What do you want to give me?" He teased, biting his tongue between his teeth as he looked at her suggestively.
Hermione stared back at him coldly, growing ever more uncomfortable by the shrinking distance between the two of them.
"Nothing." She stated, stony faced. She glared at him. Tried to show him that she wasn't afraid of him.
"Now, now luv! Don't get all fiery-eyed with me. You're the one that's wandering in the woods, so you can't be so surprised when you run into a wolf."
And that combination of smirk and piercing, predatory eyes, made her quiver. She was trembling with anticipation, waiting for him to pounce, waiting for her chance to flee. Because at that moment she felt very much like she'd run into a wolf, and she seemed to be his ideal supper.
Hermione could hear her breathing quicken as he closed the distance between them, so close that they were almost touching. She opened her mouth, unable to stand it any longer. She went to scream, unsure if the sound would even escape her throat. But it didn't get the chance.
The Snatcher's hand clamped over her mouth and he forced her backwards. She stumbled back, hitting a tree after about five startled paces. Her back slammed into it and she closed her eyes tightly, wishing that when she opened them again, she'd find that this was just another nightmare.
But it wasn't.
He was standing there, large as life, too close for comfort. His head was tilted to the side, as he looked slightly bemused.
"You know who I am right?" He questioned. "iWhat/i I am?" He added. He released the pressure on her head slightly to let her answer with a nod of the head. He let out a bemused chuckle.
"Well then Treacle, if you won't behave for me…" He titled his head to the other side suggestively. "Then perhaps you'll behave for ol' Greyback? Heard of him?" He didn't need to taunt her. Her eyes had grown wider yet at the realisation of his words and she'd begun to shake her head, panicking, her lips still pressed against his hand.
His hands smelt like earth, like the forest. The smell of evergreens hung in the air around them, a gentle scent, but the smell of wet earth on his hands was stronger.
She closed her eyes again for a second. Trying to hide from the piercing eyes before her.
iWhat did he want? What did he want?/i
But that woman's intuition inside had already answered with the quickened beating of her heart against her chest.
"So you have heard of him then?" The Snatcher taunted. "You might wanna keep quiet then luv? Because I'm sure he'd more than happily have his merry little way with you…"
He looked at the blanket, veiled annoyance clouded his eyes.
"But his way ent exactly merry, if you get my meaning." He sneered at the woolen blanket, the only thing she had for protection that still stood between her and the Snatcher. "They never normally make it through, after he's bitten into 'em a few times."
And Hermione got the message. As she stared up at this predator, pinning her to the tree, she wondered if she should take her chances with the real werewolf. Because this one… this one was making her quiver.
"So are you gonna behave?" He questioned, as he took his hand away. He bowed his head slightly to look her in the eyes but she turned her head away from him, avoiding his gaze.
She heard a small chuckle in response but let out a sudden gasp of fright as his hand suddenly tugged the blanket from her grip. Her eyes widened again, watching as the blanket landed on the floor behind his right shoulder. His smile stretched broadly across his face as his eyes shone cheekily.
Hermione crossed her arms instantly, looking at her wand as he placed it in his jacket pocket.
iNo./I
She could barely breathe as he raised his wand to her face. It trailed a light mark up her cold cheek as her shoulders rose.
iOh Merlin. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit./i
Her breath rose before her in a white mist as her chest rose and fell hurriedly. Her eyes stung slightly, threatening to betray her as she took in how helpless and vulnerable she was. But she steeled herself against it. She would get through this.
…Somehow.
She stared at him, tried to search his eyes for some form of clue. Anything to get her out of the situation she had found herself trapped in. His eyes was searching her though, roaming her face first with the trail of his wand.
He took in her lips and flushed cheeks. She was cold, holding her arms around her chest, hoping he'd dismiss her trembling as shivering. His eyes roamed down her neck, his hand came out to grab at her wrist.
Stubbornly she fought against him, trying to keep her arms wrapped over her chest but failing against his strength. He yanked her arm away, taking in her figure before letting her wrap her other arm across her chest. The cold air had made her nipples harden, and he could see it through her top. Her face flushed and she closed her eyes again, feeling shame and embarrassment flood her body.
And the whole time he was examining it.
His eyes travelled down, lingering at the thin expanse of flat belly that could be seen before his eyes met her pyjama bottoms, slung low on her hips. Her top had ridden up in her struggle, her bottoms still loose from sleep. But she was still covered. She could praise that little miracle.
The Snatcher's eyes moved back to hers, and he grinned wolfishly. She struggled again.
"Don't." A warning, surprisingly from her.
He chuckled at that, still holding her thin wrist in his tight grasp as she twisted to try and pull away. He leant closer, making her heart pound harder against her chest.
"iDon't!/i" But that sounded so much more like she was pleading with him not to. She wanted to stay strong, stay determined but that last word sounded too much like a cry.
"Shhhhh…" He reached out, soothing her hair with his hands. "You don't know what I'm gonna do yet…" He sniggered slightly. "You might enjoy it."
"No." She tried not to let her voice get too loud, but was finding it harder as he leant into her. "No… I won't!" She froze as his body pressed against hers. Even let out an uncontrollable gasp. Their bodies pressed flush against each other, her knees weak as he leant into her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair.
iOh God./i
His head snapped back enough for him to look at her. A mixture of shock and confusion were plastered on his face.
"It's you."
Two words. And they were causing so much confusion amidst the panic in her head.
"What?" She breathed, still leaning as far back into the tree as she could.
"It's you…" he said again. "That smell… It's been driving me crazy for weeks."
It was the only explanation she received as she looked back at him, eyes wide in fear and confusion.
Suddenly his lips crashed onto hers.
In the shock of it she tried to pull her head back, only pressing it further into the rough bark of the tree she was up against. She let out a muffled cry, surprised by the sudden assault. He used this to his advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His tongue caressed hers, stilling it, silencing her cry.
And she felt sick. She felt the fear running through her every pore. Every inch of her was thrumming, surging, like an electric current had suddenly passed through her. His lips were devouring her mouth, his tongue battling against hers as she tried to push at his chest with her free hand.
She fisted her hand, beating against his chest. She twisted and struggled against him, trying to pull her wrist from his hand. He let out a small groan and suddenly his hand was on the back of her hair, his fingers in her hair.
iNo./I.
iNo. This wasn't happening.
It couldn't be. Please no.
Please. Harry! Ron! Anyone!/i
And why wasn't anyone coming across her. Why hadn't the boys got their arses out of bed yet? And inside her head she was screaming at him to let her go.
She bit down on his tongue and he pulled back. She braced herself, fully expecting a punishment for it, but glowering at him all the same.
"Ow." His moan as he pulled away, his fingers from her hair now, touching his tongue. He looked down at them, saw there was no blood and then looked back up at her.
"Well that wasn't very nice… was it?" His hand went back to her hair, yanking at a handful of it. She let out a strangled cry, before quashing it. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her hurt.
"Get off of me!" Her voice was torn but strong as she cried out at him, pulling at the grip on her wrist. She wriggled violently against him again and he let out a humorous chuckle. "Now doing ithat/i certainly ent gonna help your situation."
Realising what he meant she let out a strangled growl, pushing at his chest, hitting at it again. But he didn't budge. He seemed to find it all very amusing.
"Fiesty one you are ent ya?" He sniggered, stepping back to watch her thrash about. He pretended to stroke his stubbled chin with his spare hand as he watched her. "But if you like biting so much, perhaps I ishould/i hand you over to Greyback after all."
"No." She told him. "No. Just let me go. I haven't done anything wrong! Just let me go!"
"Now luv, you're wandering around a dimly lit forest, in the foggy early hours of the morning… alone. I'd say there's sommat wrong with that picture. Don't you think?"
And the suggestion that she wasn't alone nearly slipped through her lips. So nearly she had to bite her tongue.
"So you thought you'd just come and take advantage of the situation did you?" She snapped at him angrily. Because she'd had enough. She needed to get away from him. Get back to the tent and as far away from there as possible.
"Naturally." When he smiled at her in reply, she supposed some women might class it as cheeky, charming… dashing even. But in this situation it could only be frightening.
"Besides, how can I help myself when you look…" His eyes travelled down her body.
"…smell and…"
Her head slammed back against the tree again as his lips crashed against hers, planting on firm kiss on her lips before he pulled away, chuckling slightly.
"…itaste,/i so delicious." He smiled at her, cocking his head and bowing it to look at her as she stared back, appalled. "A man can hardly be blamed for his actions." He continued.
"A man can ialways/i be blamed for his actions." She mumbled back coldly. His smiled fell from his face.
"Ahh, don't go all boring on me inow/i luv." He teased her, stepping in against her again. "Not when we're getting to the good part."
As he grinned wolfishly at her, his free hand came up. His hand cupped her cheek at first, before sliding down her neck, making her turn her head away. It carried travelling down, gliding down her chest and across her breast.
Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes, burying her head against her shoulder as much as possible. His hand cupped the side of her breast, still, just holding it there. But his thumb finished it's journey, sliding down and flicking across her peaked nipple.
Despite biting her lip, she still couldn't stop the whimper.
She knew he'd heard it. She could tell because she felt his eyes move back up to her face again, despite her eyes being closed. And she felt sick. Sick, because despite how very, utterly and sickeningly wrong it was, her body was responding to his touch.
Her own body was betraying her. Responding to that predatory glare; the hunger and the want.
This could not be happening.
Before she could stop herself, she swung for him. Her one free hand swung round with her arm and hit him across the cheek. Why hadn't she done it before?
But instead of finding herself freed by his grip, it only tightened as he cradled his face. He groaned loudly, swearing, holding his hand over his nose before he turned back to her. She saw the anger in his eyes and trembled, pressing herself so hard against the tree that she hoped she'd fall inside the trunk.
An audible growl left his throat before he swung his own arm, his grip letting go of her wrist at the end of the swing. She fell forwards with the force of it, slamming against wet leaves and damp earth.
She called out, trying to scramble up and scramble forwards to her feet. But he was on her in seconds. His tight grip slammed down on her upper arms, turning her, forcing her onto her back. She kicked out at him, trying to scramble backwards still, even whilst still in his grip.
"Ahhh! Don't!" She cried out. But she wasn't thinking about how loud she was being this time. She thought only about self-preservation. This snatcher was pressing her into the forest floor, scrambling to get on top of her.
Her hips hit his as she struggled, desperate to get away.
"I was trying to be nice…" He spoke through gritted teeth, holding her in a bruising grip on her upper arms. He shook her. "If you wanted a monster, I could have turned you over to Greyback. I just wanted a bit of fun… I wouldn't have hurt you… you would have enjoyed it."
"Please! Please don't do this!" Hermione shrieked, her voice muffled at the end of her cry as the front of his jacket fell against her mouth. She turned her head, tasting the leather on her tongue.
"If you don't shut up, Greyback will be the one you're answering to." He warned her, still fighting against her struggles. And despite all her will power she felt herself crumple. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes as she pressed and pushed against him, trying to scramble back, her boots slipping on wet leaves.
"Fine! Fine! I'll answer to him! But please! Please don't do this!"
She hated herself. She hated how weak she was in that moment. She hated that she was begging him. That she was asking for one monster over another. But at least with Greyback her body wouldn't respond. She could guarantee that.
There was something so terrifying about the fact that her body had reacted, responded to this Snatcher's touch. It both terrified her… and made her hate herself.
The body above her froze. Her eyes sought his, silently questioning his reaction. Was he angry? Was he about to turn her over?
But the man on his hands and knees, leaning over her, her legs trapped between his, had frozen. He was staring at her. That piercing look again, but this time different. Complete bewilderment and confusion blazed beneath those eyes. She didn't understand. He just stared at her, shocked and confused but still in control… always in control.
He was the predator, she was the prey.
He the hunter… she was the hunted.
And so suddenly he had gone from being inches away, breathing her in as the scent of him filled her nostrils, his grip bruising her skin. So suddenly he stood, straightened his jacket and stepped away.
She lay there, sprawled on her back, damp, muddy and disheveled, looking up at him in fear. He looked back, silently. His entire attitude had changed completely. It was evident that this wasn't fun anymore.
He took one last look at her, lying on the floor, tears wet on her face as she looked up questioningly at him. And then he turned, shrugged his jacket straight again, and began to walk away. Without so much as a backwards glance, as he reached the small leaf-strewn slope she had slipped down, he threw her wand over his shoulder.
Hermione lay there silently, shivering for several minutes.
iWhat had just happened?/i
Because she was still shaking from it. Still breathing hard from it. Still dreading that he would return. But all the same… why had he stopped?
She scrambled round on all fours before she managed to get herself to her feet, half slipping, half running to her wand. She grabbed it, sinking down into a small, crouched ball as she grasped her wand tightly. She let the tears slide down her face, but forbade herself from sobbing loudly. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction if she was still nearby.
And she wanted to move. Wanted to pull herself to her feet and run back to the tent. But she was trembling so violently, so scared… still processing what had happened. Maybe half an hour passed in her post-traumatic state before she heard voices.
Her heart pounded in her chest again, terrified he had returned, but this time with Greyback like he had threatened. As the footsteps approached she waited, crouched in the wet leaves, grasping her wand in both hands.
Suddenly the owners of the voices came into view at the top of the slope and Hermione brandished her wand at them.
Panic struck her again at the last second, preventing her from firing her wand. But she still held it there for a further few moments.
"'Mione?" Ron questioned dimly as he and Harry stood, frozen in place, eyes on her wand. "You alright?"
And as though hearing his voice was what she needed to hear, she snapped out of it.
"Y-yeah…" She murmured. "Yeah, I fell down… that's all."
A/N: I've been getting a lot of story alerts for this, so I will no longer be posting this fic on this site. If you're interested in this fic, please go to the following link. ;) Thanks! xxx .?no=600026496