Hey, fellows! Here's another chapter with more of Scabior and drama. I'd let you know that I in my story use snatchers that have appeared in the movie or pics. Lackie can be found beside Scabior in the Ministry. Rusty, a new character, is the man holding Ron in the deleted scene. But I want and need more reviews, please. Tell me what you think about Hermione, Scabior and Harry, for example. And do tell me if you think the story is too slow-paced. I wanted to build up the relationship between Scabior and Hermione properly before the good stuff, but good things come to those who wait. Enjoy your reading!
Chap. 3 Beds
When Scabior left the group it was more day then night but that was one of the downsides of being a snatcher. Some would take the day shift, some the night shift when spying on potential victims.
Another task bestowed upon them all was to gather food to the collective supply, according to snatcher rule No. 11: "Get food or get lost." Of course each snatcher ensured that he himself had food, it was just in case of an emergency or an unexpected difficulty to gather provision, that they could be able to rely on the collection. Scabior felt the need for a snack and walked into his tent to grab something from his own supply. He decided for an apple and savagely began to eat it.
Thoughts went past his head in a fast pace. He would plan for an assault on the woman and the man in the tent by the hill. He would not ponder the brown-haired woman or his reaction to her on the hill. He would see to gain respect from every snatcher under his command. He would think about how to spend his next payment. And he would pray to Merlin that Greyback didn't return to their group after his latest werewolf transformation.
'Shitsmelling dog!' Scaboir thought with disgust. The werewolf reeked of blood and dirt when he was around and Scabior could stand neither the stench nor his behaviour like an alpha, when in fact it was Greyback who was the outsider of the group and lacked the Dark Mark. They were better off without him but didn't dare bitch about it in case Greyback decided to run to the Dark Lord and rat on them. If they were lucky the werewolf might join another group in his desperate search for children to bite and infect.
Scaboir tossed the rest of the apple to the corner of the tent, indifferent to the growing pile of garbage that already lay there. Anyway, after he had captured those teenagers he was going to change the location of the camp once again, in hope of finding other mudbloods to snatch in a new area. Then the garbage would be left here.
He walked to his simple bed and sat down to at least remove his boots and leather coat. He lay down on his back on the mattress and put the pillow under his head, trying to make himself comfortable. Maybe it was time to buy a blanket, as it grew rather cold in his tent in the middle of the winter nights, despite his heating spells. 'Yeah, a blanket would be nice.' With a grin, he came to think of something even better. 'Wouldn't mind a bird warming me now.'
But truth to be told, it was very hard to find women who willingly joined snatchers, and victims that were kept as prisoners rarely survived two days. Sure, one could use the Imperio curse to make them more agreeable but Scabior couldn't really enjoy a charade like that. He wanted his women to submit themselves to him with their minds in their own control. It meant more of a challenge on his part to make them want him, or at least his body. Experience told him that some witches considered him to be attractive. There was always someone who wanted a go with a badboy when he was in town on business. Still, after many one-night stands he had yet to see a woman who truly wanted him as a person. The sex he had was fine, but Scabior wondered if it could be better if some feelings were shared between him and a witch. Not love; he snorted at the word, just something beyond physical attraction.
"Stop it, you stupid arse!" he muttered to himself. Enough with the sentimentality now, he was clearly tired and needed some rest. He turned to lie on his side and thinking about warmth he slowly drifted to sleep.
Damn that Harry! She should have seen it coming, of course. When Hermione had woken up the next morning she had felt oddly well-rested. She had seen Harry's shape through the fabric of the tent before she had picked up her small hand mirror to see the state of her face. Her hair had been all over the place, a sure sign of many hours of turning in the bed. Harry hadn't swopped place with her as usual, but had stayed outside the rest of the night. Feeling both moved and angry for the sacrifice he had done for her, she walked briskly to the tent opening for a talk with Harry.
"Harry James Potter!"
The raven-haired man jerked at the sudden high-pitched voice. He looked behind him with a look of dread on his face.
"Good morning, Hermione. Slept well?"
"Actually I did, but why didn't you wake me when it was my turn to watch for dangers?" she asked him with her lips in a thin line. Harry cringed a little.
"You looked like you needed a full night's sleep and I felt fine…"
"You stayed outside for seven hours straight, Harry. Seven! You can't do that for me. It will make you exhausted!" Hermione cut him off. But Harry retorted with a more exasperated voice.
"Hermione, I felt alright and besides, you needed to sleep. It was you that looked exhausted yesterday and I thought your hands were better off resting than being in the cold again so soon after the injury." He glared at her as to dare her to keep fighting him in this matter. Hermione bent her head in surrender and glanced at Harry under her lashes. He looked so determined that she couldn't help but smile at him. A smile began to grace his lips too, and so the disagreement was over.
"Well, since you've been out here all night, then maybe I could make some breakfast for us now?" she proposed in her usual reasonable voice. Harry nodded with consent and Hermione returned to the tent to boil some stolen eggs.
They spent the day together outside, airing their theories on the mystery of the symbol and thinking about ways of finding and destroying Voldemort's horcruxes. Both expressed their concern about the sounding locket which probably contained a lot of dark magic. Neither particularly cared for wearing it but they had to keep it safe until they could annihilate it. Hermione found herself more relaxed than before and to add to her mood, the sun appeared for some time. She began to feel that they would soon make some progress with their quest.
When the sun was chased away by the arriving freezing night, she and Harry decided to go to bed early. They agreed that they could manage one night without guarding the tent if they just cast some new protecting spells around the area. Harry walked away to perform the proper spells, while Hermione changed to her pyjamas; a big dark-blue t-shirt and grey trousers. As soon as Harry had returned she dared lie down on her bed and close her eyes.
It was a great day for Scabior. When he had woken up around mid-day he had decided to entertain himself with a search for food for his personal supply. He had ventured deep into the woods to catch some meat. After a patient wait up in an oak he had discovered a deer close to the tree, unaware of the danger above. A well-aimed Avada Kedavra spared the deer from suffering.
Proud of himself Scabior had levitated the animal and strolled back to the camp. After he had taken most of the meat he let the present snatchers take what they wanted from the rest of the body. Inside his tent he made himself a simple but warm stew and felt like a dementor in Diagon Alley a week before school start. Or at least in the Diagon Alley that was before the Dark Lord's resurrection. Now the place was just depressing and Scabior only went there if necessary.
As it grew darker he realized he should go and relieve the snatcher that was currently watching the young couple. When he arrived to the place where the hole was he spotted the snatcher outside the shield. It was Rusty, the man with the ginger hair which was hidden under his black hoodie. His coat was an ugly piece of shit, according to Scabior who didn't like the fur sticking up in the seams. But Rusty was loyal to him and that was important for Scabior.
"Hey, Rusty! What are you doing outside the shield? Can't do much of spying when you can't see them, right?" Scabior called to him. Rusty turned his face towards him and in a breathless voice replied.
"Sorry, boss. Heard them small bastards decide to cast their spells again. I had to run like a pixie on sugar to the hole and dive through before a Homenum Revelio would expose me."
Scabior swore loudly. Now he was forced to make a hole again, as the other one had been wiped out by the new protecting charms.
"But I did see somethin' interesting today," Rusty blurted out, clearly attempting to improve Scabior's mood. "I thought I'd tell ya. They talked outside an' I saw 'em fingerin' on some kind o' necklace. D'ya reckon it's valuable, boss?"
Scabior had already begun to pierce the invisible shield and said to him:
"Dunno. Maybe we'll find out when we catch them. I've almost finished the plan. You can tell the others that when you arrive at the camp."
Rusty understood that he was dismissed and made a small wave to Scabior before he took off. Scabior had to work for fifteen minutes before the new hole was created. With a growl at the couple, who at last had thought about making some new adjustments to protect themselves, he crawled inside and carefully approached the hill. Once in place on his stomach, his marvel at the two people's newly acquired caution transformed into a scorn as he discovered that no-one sat outside the tent. They were surely dense if they relied on only their security spells. Scabior suspected they would sleep through all night, making it a very boring and fruitless night for him. He rested his chin on his crossed arms as the darkness fell over him.
After one hour of worthless spying he saw a light appear in the back of the tent. It wasn't a Lumos but a more yellow light, probably from a table lamp. Even though the tent was magical and larger on the inside he could still make out a figure by the left wall getting up, from a bed he presumed, and slowly walking across the floor.
It was her! He recognized the smoothness of her movements and the fussy shape of her hair that differed from the man's unruly hair. When she reached the right wall she bent down and Scabior enjoyed the display until another figure sat up with the head hidden behind the woman's. They seemed to talk a bit before the man lifted his blankets and Scabior saw how the woman got into his bed and lay down beside him. Then the light went out.
Suddenly he was overwhelmed with an urge to vomit. He swiftly raised himself onto his arms and threw up as his insides clenched. He tried to be quiet as chunks of deer were forced up his throat and onto the ground before him. After a minute it stopped and with trembling arms Scabior rolled sideways to lie on his back. He gulped down cool air and closed his eyes for a moment. The feel of nausea slowly faded but he could still feel unease.
He reached for some leaves beside him to wipe off his mouth and was thankful for his habit of tying his hair loosely on the back of his head. But why had he been sick? He was never ill and he was certain that the deer had been healthy and properly cooked. He had felt alright just until the woman crept down into the man's bed. Oh, no. 'I did not throw up because they were going to shag,' Scabior thought with horror, but his stomach disagreed as he felt nauseous again.
He thought about it. A man and a woman living alone in a tent for a long time, of course they were lovers who, very likely, was on the run from the Dark powers. He just hadn't seen them getting it on before. Of course it would disgust him if the nerdy man began to grope the pretty woman in front of him. After his thorough studies of her, he deemed her too fragile for such activities. He didn't like the thought of her having to endure sex with that heavy, whimpish man on top of her. He looked like a lousy partner who just sought his own release. He would stain her with his disgusting smell imprinting her whole body.
Scabior gritted his teeth and quickly dug out the scarf from under his coat to smell it. The reassuring smell of flowers and sweet vanilla calmed him down. Ever since that fall night when he had first encountered her smell when he walked in a forest, he had longed for that scent. After some days he had understood that she had been concealed by a protecting charm at the time. He remembered the flavour in his mind until he found her scarf by the lake. After that he craved the wonderful smell daily, having to carry the scarf around his neck all the time.
But without refill of her scent, the scarf would soon lose every fragment of her. Scabior would not have it soiled with another man's stench. That meant he would have to stop expose himself to her smell when she guarded the tent. He knew what he must do instead. Yes, snatch them and throw them to the Ministry. That was after all what he was supposed to do.
"No fucking honeymoon in these times!" Scabior muttered to himself and began to sit up. And here he had risked his cover by helping her fingers. One would think she couldn't use her hands properly for some days but apparently he had been wrong. They were surely tightly wrapped around the man's cock by now. 'Filthy slut!' With sudden rage coursing in his blood he raised himself and marched off to the hole.