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Inspirational music: El diablo en el ojo by Tindersticks

Chap. 11 Cages

Scabior was going mad. In three days there had been nothing but whimpering and tossing in the bed he longed to sleep in. The healing took longer than expected and it had made him testy. Sure, he was use to not sleep many hours, being a snatcher and all, but sleeping on a chair or on a hard table proved to be very uncomfortable and therefore it was hard to go to sleep in the first place. And then, when the woman cried in pain it woke him up easily. But he had decided to stay at her side and help her through the prolonged healing process and so, he would not leave his tent to sleep in another tent. And he did not trust his snatchers enough to let them relieve him from his task; they knew embarrassingly little about healing.

Wearily, Scabior reached for a bag of peanuts and his bottle of Firewhiskey to cheer himself up. He leaned against his table and took a swig from the bottle before he tossed some nuts into his mouth. He observed the girl under the blanket before him. The time between her pleadings for something to help her from the pain had grown longer. At least that was a good sign. The bad news was that she still had her eyes sealed shut by the swollen flesh around them, she completely refused offered nourishment, except for a small amount of water now and then, and she still seemed to be hallucinating whenever she woke up.

Unexpectedly, a piece of a peanut got caught between two teeth and it annoyed him immensely. He tried to free it with his nail but was unsuccessful. He tore his ring from his finger and angled it in his mouth, desperately seeking to jam one of the small horns in-between the two teeth. Of course the fucking piece did not budge and had it not been for Scabior's fondness of his teeth, he would have cast a Reducto and gotten rid of his problem.

"Damn you, little bugger!" he growled and reached for the peanut with his nail again. This time it happened to loosen and fell out from it's hiding place. Scabior breathed out in relief as all frustration vanished along with the nut. He even smiled a little before he caught a glimpse of the woman who had turned her head with unruly curls to him and watched quietly.

He spotted her mocha brown eyes that were no more than thin slits between the swelling, but the eyes were definitely fixed on his person. He had not anticipated her awakening and felt a tad stupid for having had a downright battle against a tiny peanut only seconds ago. Scabior did not do awkward and put on his usual charming mask.

"Hello, pretty. Have we finally woken up, huh?"

He made a move to leave the table and sit on his chair by the bed but Granger flinched and moved to the other side of the narrow bed with a scared look on her face. Scabior's grin fell. He figured she was afraid of him, which she was perfectly entitled to, after what had happened the last time she had seen him. He stayed on the table and stared back at her.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. Would be pretty pointless after healing you with my collection of healing potions," he assured her and tilted his head to the side as she opened her mouth.

"What happened?"

Her weak voice had a croaking tone after the hardships she had been through lately.

"Well, you passed out after Bellatrix' game with you, the Dark Lord was summoned and he took Potter and Weasley with him to kill them or something. He said I could take you, as you were just an insignificant mudblood, I brought you to my camp and then I healed you."

He talked fast, deliberately omitting the details about what had happened after the Dark Lord's departure from the Manor and how he had watched over her for three days straight. As a snatcher he knew that knowledge is power and furthermore, he was not keen on upsetting her with gruesome stories. He seemed to have failed.

"No! He's got Harry and Ron? I must help them, I must find them now."

She spoke frantically and even managed to sit up, before her injuries reminded her about their existence and she clutched her stomach with a gasp. Scabior held up his hand.

"Now miss, I don't think you're fit for fight yet. Besides, you lack both clothes and wand." She looked down at her torso and discovered that she only wore her bra and her knickers. As fast as she could, she reached for the blanket pooling around her hips and covered her front modestly. A different shade of red than the one Scabior had seen lately bloomed out on her cheeks and she avoided his gleaming eyes.

"Where is my wand and my clothes?" she asked quietly and blushed even more. Scabior crossed his ankles and dangled his legs.

"Your clothes are on the floor behind the bed. Managed to clean them from all blood but don't expect me to iron them," he joked despite her serious look. "And your wand was picked up by one of my snatchers when we caught you. But I'm afraid you can't have it, love. You're not a free bird anymore." She met his eyes and whispered incredulously, "I'm a prisoner?" Scabior snorted.

"And here I thought you had the brain in the trio." She rose to the occasion.

"Excuse me sir, for trying to get all the facts about my predicament," she said with a haughty tone and glared at Scabior. His eyes darkened to a nearly black brown colour at her arrogance.

"I must 'ave underestimated ya, pretty. Yer strength apparently returned while ya were asleep for three days straight. Maybe ya should thank me for takin' care o' ya the whole time." Her eyes widened at the information but she seemed to gain control over herself and hissed, "I bet you had a real good time staring at me in only my underwear, you sick pervert!" This made Scabior's blood boil and he jumped off the table but kept his distance from her.

"No, love, I was too busy tendin' ta yer fuckin' kidney, yer broken ribs an' everythin' else that was damaged. Merlin forbid a mudblood would ever thank me for such a favour!" he shouted. She flinched at the foul word but continued with a scream that could challenge his own, "I would rather meet an army of Inferi than give my gratitude to you, you ugly snatcher warder!"

'That can be arranged,' Scabior thought cruelly before he took a deep, calming breath and said with a silky voice, "You're right. You're my prisoner and if you don't shut up or please me, your stay here might become more, what's the word...disagreeable."

Granger turned her eyes, which were now filled with unashamed hatred and disgust, to meet his and spit on the floor beside the bed.

The act enraged Scabior to a dangerous point where he would consider to slap the woman for her insolence, but something in his burning body stopped him. He simply sneered at her daring face and began to walk to the tent opening. Before he left he threw some words over his shoulder, "Enjoy your time here, miss."

Hermione looked after the retreating back of the snatcher she had just had an uncharacteristic fight with. When the material fell back to its place and shut out the light from outside, she really began to understand the danger of the situation. She had not learnt much from the snatcher but thought that he might have told the truth about Harry and Ron. Regardless of how they were doing, they needed her.

She put her bare feet on the cold floor and ignored the throbbing ache in her torso as she carefully tried to stand up. It took three attempts until she managed to stand with bent back by supporting herself with a hand placed on the bed. Nausea hit her as she swayed from the strain. She limped to the neat heap of clothes and was happy to find nothing missing. Slowly she put her clothes on and cursed the snatcher for taking her wand away, as she struggled to reach her feet and tie the shoelaces without magic. Once fully dressed, including the grey coat to keep herself warm, Hermione looked around in the tent.

There were few things occupying space in the tent that was remarkably smaller than the one Hermione had lived in for several months. The bed behind her, the solid table before her, a chair, an emerald green chest in one corner and a heap of trash in the other. Not even a lamp was there to make the tent more cosy, although that was what one could expect from a common snatcher. Hermione had got the impression after her latest encounter with him that he was aggressive, dangerous and sly. And she wanted to get away from him as fast as possible.

She walked warily across the floor to the chest and sank to her knees. She did not expect it to be unlocked but tried to open it anyway. She was right in her assumptions and could only speculate what it contained. Probably the potions he had used when he healed her, money from his snatching career and various belongings. Maybe her wand was locked in there too. She knew that without a wand she was not going to last long in the world, but she would sooner try to find Harry and Ron than be stuck here, waiting for an opportunity to take back her wand.

Hermione rose from the floor and tiptoed to the tent opening. She lifted the drapery and looked outside. Several tents were placed nearby a small campfire and lucky for Hermione no-one was around. It was worth a try. She lifted her foot but hit something hard with it. She saw nothing and tried to stretch out her arm. 'Godric almighty!' There was an invisible ward preventing her from getting out. She dropped the drapery and began to examine every side of the tent; lifting the fabric, always to meet an identical ward before her.

She was caged.

It felt like all hope abandoned her and with tired steps she made her way to the bed to sit down on it. Tears formed themselves in her eyes and she felt more alone than ever. What to do now? What would happen to her? And most importantly, was there still a chance for Harry and Ron to escape the firm claws of Voldemort? She hugged herself tightly and sobbed quietly.