Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned below. This is just for fun, and I'm, obviously, not making any money off of it.

Gimme a Smile, Gimme a Sneer

It was three days before Scabior could see correctly. Three days of returning to the same bar, where everyone left him alone, save for the portly man who had showed up again last night and chortled until he choked. The man was fine in a matter of moments, but Scabior's anger had risen and he left before he decided to get into a fight and break some bones himself. Which, speaking of, his nose still hurt. Scabior closed his eyes, though not too tightly - the muscles were still tender - and opened them, focusing on the TV in his motel room. Hermione Granger was a walking whirlwind, but - pepper spray and school books! Scabior threw his hands up in the air. His face hadn't been injured this much since, well, he didn't want to think about it. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and sat down on the edge of his bed, his face still pleasantly warm from drinking alcohol. Well, his face had never been this injured in the pursuit of a woman, any woman.

He really should lay down and sleep, but his mind was still wide awake. Besides, he didn't want to get the spins if he laid down before the booze settled in him. Scabior blinked his eyes again, taking small pleasure in the fact that they were no longer swollen and purple. True, there was still a deep red streak across his right eyelid and the rest of the skin around his eyes was an unhappy shade of puce, but it was better. His eyes didn't look like black holes. Scabior smiled at the floor. He'd shown enormous restraint in keeping himself away from the high school. Though every other thought was urging him to go find Hermione Granger so he could get her to talk herself senseless so he could -... Could what? Scabior frowned. She was young and pretty and so appealing he ached... And she didn't like him. Not in the slightest. She hadn't said aloud what she must have been thinking. To a teenage girl, was he really old? He was only twenty-eight and he'd seen some of the looks the other girls had given him and they hadn't looked angry. They also hadn't pepper sprayed him or broken his nose. And they also didn't have the same, sweet, maddening smell and dark eyes that he couldn't get out of his mind. Scabior shook his head, and judging his stomach to be settled, kicked off his boots and climbed into bed.

The sheets were cold and they were a welcome relief against the flush of warmth from the alcohol, but Scabior pulled up the thin comforter, knowing he would be cold before morning. He pulled out the bit of ribbon that kept his hair back from his face and finally laid back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. So she'd rejected him. People changed their minds all the time. Scabior closed his eyes, but it was quite a while before he could fall asleep.

o0o

Though he had been rather sight impaired the last few days - Scabior hadn't been blind. He had noticed the group of teenagers watching Hermione as she first broke his nose, and then, in too many words, told him to go away. He didn't think it would be wise to sit out in that parking lot again, but he simply couldn't stop himself from getting out of the motel, or his thoughts turning to the young woman. Scabior purposely scuffed his boots as he walked, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, fiddling with the ring on his right hand. The weather was swiftly becoming icy and sometime soon he would have to pick up some warmer items of clothing. But for the moment, he would enjoy the cool weather. Scabior tilted back his head and took a deep breath, the cool air making his throat ache the slightest bit. He continued walking, past the super market and the high school and down towards what appeared to be a park on the edge of the woods.

There was the typical slides and swing set and an empty gazebo that had seen better days, with numerous park benches scattered around the premises. There were a few kids, bundled up tightly, playing on the equipment, their mothers huddling in the gazebo and chattering like hens. Scabior wrinkled his nose and took the stone path that wound around the slides and towards the trees, knowing that if he plopped down on one of the near by benches, he would be watched by the hen mothers. His feet carried him until he found himself stopping in front of a large oak, the branches curling outwards and hanging low. When he was a kid he would have scampered up it as fast as could be. Scabior smirked at the tree, and why not now? It was much easier than it would have been when he was a boy, he knew where to look for footholds and his legs were much longer. Once he'd climbed to a height where he could see anyone walking on the path in both directions, he settled back in the branches.

Scabior stretched and crossed his arms behind his head, one leg swinging off the sturdy branch, pleased with himself. He'd been sorely tempted - but he really needed to exercise some self restraint, and here he was, enjoying a bit of nature, instead of lying in wait for Hermione Granger. Far in the distance, the high school bell rang out, a shrill noise that made Scabior flinch. He would stay where he was and in an hour or so, head to the diner he'd seen about ten minutes walk from the super market. He'd pinched a wallet off of one of the wankers in the store that morning and, luckily, it had been a man who liked to keep cash about, instead of just those damn pieces of plastic.

Of course, people had those little pieces of plastic because of people like him. Scabior unconsciously patted the pocket the wallet was in and then lifted his head to look at the leaves above. Red, orange and gold leaves waved in the sunlight, like a cheap imitation of fire, which made him smile the slightest bit. It had been a while since he had made a foray into anything besides a city. Sometime soon it would be good to get away from it all - crunch.

Scabior's eyebrows drew together and he straightened, listening. It was still a ways off, but it sounded like someone was kicking through the dead leaves, coming this way. Hopefully it wasn't a kid. Kids were much more observant than teens or adults, who would never look up unless their life depended on it. Or they had been watching horror films. Kids though... Kids liked to explore and though he wasn't going to do anything to 'em, he didn't want to have his reverie interrupted. It was closer now, coming towards him from the park. Scabior leaned on the massive trunk of the tree, head tilted and his chest rising and falling, but otherwise completely still.

It was a few more moments before the person came into sight and of course, fate seemed to like to tease him. Hermione Granger, with a smile on her face and a single, small book in her arms, was walking down the path, scuffling her feet around in the random piles of forest debris. A tenseness seized hold of Scabior and he leaned forward, drinking the sight of her in. His dark blue eyes darted back and forth - she was alone, and wasn't she just pretty? Jeans and tasteful shoes, a fleece jacket hugging her torso and a splash of bright color, in the form of a pink scarf. Her hair was down. Scabior's hand shook and he clenched it tight into a fist, his eyes following her like a hawk tracking it's prey. She walked beneath his hiding place, none the wiser and stopped a few feet away, her gaze focused intently on the ground.

Achingly slowly, Scabior began the climb down, the only noise a soft whisper of his clothing and the sudden ruffling of leaves as Hermione picked through them, magpie-like. He paused before he reached the ground, but decided he should make some noise to alert her of his presence, either way it would scare her. Scabior felt a smile curl his lips and he leaped down, boots thudding softly on the cement and spoke.
"'ello beautiful."
Hermione whirled and let out a short, sharp yell, dropping her book before her eyes focused on him and grew angry. She stomped her feet, slapping her arms down against her sides and glared. He may as well have appeared out of thin air.

"Really? Are you trying to make me call the police on you?" Hermione asked him, in a shrill voice. Scabior tilted his head to the side, lips pursed in consideration as he took a few steps forward. Hermione didn't move, but continued to try and kill him with her eye-daggers. He shrugged and raised a brow, sure that she would continue in a matter of moments. She didn't disappoint him.

"You're just a- just a glutton for punishment! Do you like being beaten up? And-and why are you following me anyway? I'm a teenager and you're stalking me!" Hermione's voice rose another octave, but Scabior laughed and shook his head, his arms held out to either side.

"Stalkin' implies that there's a bit of forethought in followin' you. You found me today," though she hadn't seemed to notice he had left out their other meetings. He took another step closer. "I was just enjoyin' myself here and then someone starts walkin' by-" Scabior imitated someone walking, holding out his hand and moving two of his fingers back and forth. Hermione kept her eyes on him, but knelt quickly to grab her book, not noticing her scarf slipping off of her shoulders. "Jus' wanted to say hi is all."

"Be that as it may, you seem to take an extraordinary amount of delight in not only scaring me, but having your face injured. I suggest you leave me alone - the past few days have been much more pleasant without a madman trying to give me compliments." Hermione tucked the book under her arm and brushed off her knees. Scabior's eyes widened momentarily, and he chuckled again and leaned his shoulder against a tree, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione only spared him another irritated glance before she straightened and attempted to look down her nose at him, even with Scabior standing more than a head taller than her.

"Don't like compliments, I'm guessin'? Or," and Scabior couldn't stop his voice from taking on a sing-song quality - "ya don't like compliments unless they're from a certain someone." Hermione blinked and then huffed, turning her head away and letting her dark curls make a curtain between them. He could see that he had hit a sore point, and no doubt it was one of the boys in school with her. Scabior flicked a glance at the book under her arm, and could barely make out a name... Tennyson, it looked like. And when she had broken his nose, it had been - "Advanced Chemistry? That was the book you cracked me with, wasn'it?" Hermione turned her face back to him, the question written plainly on her face, though there was guilt there too.

"Well, yes - how on earth did you know the title? And why would care anyway?"

"I was rather intimately introduced, hm? A bit hard to forget. You seem like a smart girl, beautiful," Scabior took another step closer, but this time Hermione stepped away. He continued to speak and move, wondering at how much this resembled some strange dance. "I've always been attracted to smart girls, especially ones," Scabior almost had her backed against a tree and he could see the anger burning in her eyes. He leaned forward, his pinky hooking a curl and breathed in. "Especially ones that smell so pretty," he finished and would have come closer, would have lifted the curl to his face and breathed in the scent of vanilla and skin because it was all he could think about - but Hermione slapped him.

Scabior sucked in air through his teeth, and straightened to his full height, gingerly touching his left cheek. It stung, but hadn't had her full force behind it. He barely kept his anger in check, because this time it hadn't been an accident. Scabior told himself he shouldn't have tried to push her, it was his fault... The tension in his shoulders slowly leaked away, but his body was still humming with the need to lash out. Hermione looked as angry as ever.
"Now, that wasn't what a lady would do, was it?" Scabior asked and lowered his hand back down to his side. Hermione's hands were shaking, but her expression didn't change.

"A lady wouldn't have to defend herself from a gentleman," she told him shakily, her lower lip giving a quiver. Scabior's eyes seemed to be glued to her mouth as he answered.

"Never said I was gentleman, beautiful." His gaze flicked back up to hers and he took a single step back. She was all sneers and no smiles today.

"I am going home. And you are not going to follow me. You are going to stay here and do - do something you don't normally do, like leaving me alone." Hermione stepped away from the tree that had nearly trapped her and back onto the cement path. She shot him another glare and walked a few feet before looking over her shoulder, as if to make sure he hadn't moved from the spot he was in. She got another fifteen feet or so before she whirled, hands still shaking, but saw that he still hadn't moved.

Scabior was torn between being annoyed and laughing aloud. He would start to follow, as soon as she got out of sight. He had... a talent, for following, you might say. Hermione's back was rigid and Scabior silently wondered if she always stomped when she was angry. He could just barely spy her dark curls now in the distance and took a step forward, ready to follow after her, when his eye spotted something bright on the ground. He turned to where she had knelt, after having dropped her book, and spied the pink scarf she had been wearing. Extremely slowly, Scabior knelt down and drew it into his hands, rubbing the material between his rough fingers. It had a faint plaid pattern on it, pale pink and bits of white, the ends tasseled with smooth thread. Clenching his jaw, Scabior stood up and lifted the scarf to his face.

His chest expanded as he breathed in and held it, fingers clenching tightly in the material. With a sudden curse, Scabior whirled and punched the tree, though the blow was softened by the scarf still wrapped around his fingers. He was insane, chasing after a teenager. Scabior's face was stoic as he turned away from the cement path, but he wrapped the scarf around his neck, his fingers clenching the tassels one more time... Before dropping his hands back down to his sides. The scarf was like torture, with her perfume lingering in the air, but he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind.

A/N: Thanks so much for those of you who are reviewing! They very much brighten my day.