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Inspirational music: Tell me now by Maire Brennan/Hans Zimmer
Chap 13 Fallacies
"I know you all want some kind of payment for our last snatched prey and I'm sure that the Dark Lord or the Ministry will reward us soon. However, I'm gonna make you a deal. I get the mudblood, who was given to me in the first place by the Dark Lord himself, and you boys don't come near her. For that I'm willing to give my share of the reward to you all, fair and square. It's a deal?"
It was odd for Scabior to bargain with his own snatchers but it was a necessity. Even the most loyal and collected men in the group could be tempted to have their way with the only girl in the area and that was not something Scabior would approve of. He knew he was basically giving away thousands of galleons for the sake of one mudblood but it felt strangely right. Hopefully he could put his men up to it and ensure the woman's safety in the camp. He cleared his throat impatiently, exhorting the men to deliver an answer. One snatcher emerged from the huddled bunch.
"Boss, we appreciate the offer but we're wondering how you define 'near her'. I mean, if she'll be let out from your tent, does that mean we all have to disappear into the forest or our own tents? That could be inconvenient for us, if you get my drift." Scabior held up his hands.
"That wouldn't be the case, gentlemen. Just keep yourself at least three feet away from her and I'm good. And no fooling around with innuendoes. Let me take care of that."
He smirked at the relaxed snatchers who grinned back. Even if Granger, well, meant something to Scabior it did not erase the fact that she was a filthy mudblood in the eyes of others, especially in the current climate of the wizarding world. Scabior would not betray himself and his changing attitude against this particular mudblood and so, he had to keep up appearance in front of his men.
"Alright, boss. It's a deal."
"Good. Now I suggest you take the weekend off. Throw a party or something to celebrate the victory of the Dark Lord. Just make sure that you're back fairly sober on Monday morning, okay?" Several snatchers nodded like obedient pupils and some of them high-fived each other, apparently looking forward to a two-day non-stop drinking feast. Already there were sounds of apparating echoing in the forest as a bunch left, probably to find a pub and get plastered.
Scabior shook his head at their giddiness as he began to walk back to his tent to take care of the damage caused by Lackie. He scolded himself; had Bellatrix not in her manipulative kind of way warned him about the risks with bringing a woman to his camp? And he had forgot all about it since the day at the Manor, too busy healing Granger and then tending to her day and night until he felt fatigue take its toll on him. That was probably the main reason to why he had snapped in the argument between the two of them. Still, Scabior felt rather bad, blaming himself for the heated discussion with a barely recovered woman in chock, creating a one-way ward; thus making it impossible for her to escape but enabling whoever on the outside to trespass, leaving her alone and defenceless for an hour in a camp with ruthless snatchers and, to top it all off, assuming she had given her consent to perform sexual acts to disgusting creatures like Lackie and afterwards threatening her in the confrontation. 'Scabior, what a bloody mess!' he thought, carefully lifting the fabric from the doorway and entering his tent with a tightening in his chest.
She had not even moved from her previous position close to the wall. Scabior put his wand in his coat pocket and let the hand stay there while he awkwardly rubbed his neck with the other. Just take the dragon by the horns.
"Granger," he called out with his softest voice in an attempt to coax her to turn to him. No response. He stepped nearer the bed and repeated a little louder, "Granger!". She sniffed and a shiver through her body proved her misery. This required far more effort from Scabior than he had ever spent on a woman. 'Win her trust by charm and allure. Charm and allure.'
Using the seducing skills from his youth, he tried again, almost whispering, "Hermione." It was a special feeling, using her real name and it had a certain smoothness as it slipped from his lips. The trembling stopped and the woman began to little by little turn around on the bed, wincing as she moved. Scabior was flabbergasted at her appearance.
A red bruise covered her cheek; the eyes were also red, though from crying. Her hair was all tangles. She held her hand around her bandaged wrist as if supporting and protecting it from further harm. The jeans were still by her knees but Scabior could not see much of her thighs from her foetal position. She turned her wounded eyes to his and Scabior almost gasped, for there was a hazy mist preventing the glittering mocha colour to reach him. This must be the look of a raped woman. Almost dead irises staring without focus. It unnerved Scabior and he made it his quest to bring the real Hermione back. He sat down on his haunches a couple of feet away from the bed to not appear as a threat to her.
"Hermione, are you hurt?" He knew it was a silly question during the circumstances but he had to make her talk to him. After a dreadful minute of waiting she nodded, not breaking eye contact with him. Summoning all his patience for the following questions, Scabior continued with a low voice, "Where does it hurt?" She blinked but otherwise she stayed immobilized. Scabior tried another approach.
"Is your wrist damaged?" He could tell that it was, it was only a try to get her to let him help. Hermione slowly let go of the arm and stretched it out hesitantly on the bed. Not wanting to break her newly founded trust, Scabior asked, "Is it okay if I heal it, Hermione?"
She took a deep breath, the veil faded a little from her eyes and she mumbled in a broken voice, "Make the pain go away." This time he was not angered by the bluntness or a missing 'thank you' but more concerned about her health.
He slid forward and took out his wand. She began to cry once she caught a glimpse of the piece of wood, so he hurried to hush her soothingly and reached for her hand with his free one. A tingling spread through Scabior when his calloused hand once more touched her soft, pale skin. He had missed the feeling of it under his fingers when he took care of her. And now it was time again. He began to caress her open palm with his thumb and raised his dark eyes to hers.
"What I promised after you woke up still stands. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to heal your wrist now." Before she had time to maybe object, Scabior made the bandaged disappear and saw a small bruising on the frail wrist. Not so quick to scare her but not slow enough to make her protest, he pointed the wand at her arm and whispered an incantation. They both watched how white skin replaced the bluish mark and Hermione let out a sigh, surely from the retreated ache. Proud of his first feat, Scabior bandaged the wrist once more and let go of it. In a normal tone he asked, "Where else are you hurt?" and could literally see how the veil returned to her eyes as she closed up.
"Where else are you hurt?"
The sound of his voice was pleasant although his words were far more terrible. How could she trust anyone at this point, and especially the man before her, to not take advantage of and abuse her even more?
Hermione was certainly not stupid. She had known since she left the Burrow in a hurry with Harry and Ron that she would not be safe anywhere. And if she got caught by dark wizards she could only count on them to harm her in various ways. But it had wounded her, more than she could ever imagine, having a man thrust his fingers inside her and take control over her entire being. If it hurt like hell from that experience, how much worse would it not be to be raped?
She closed her eyes, ignoring the snatcher who had just healed her wrist. Could she trust him to heal the rest of her? He seemed to be so dangerous sometimes, whereas now he had spoken with a soothing voice. And his calm eyes resembled the colour of dark chocolate and coffee beans when he fixed his gaze on her.
Hermione had to face it, she was vulnerable to Scabior. He could decide to rape her anytime he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. She better take what help he was willing to give before he switched his mind. She opened her eyes and felt a small blush appear on her cheeks as she prepared to let him know she allowed him to help her.
"He…he grabbed my breasts very hard. They hurt," she let out in a defeated voice. Scabior bared his teeth for a moment before he calmed himself and lifted his wand once more.
"Can I see them, love? I need to see how big the bruises are to know when to stop healing them." She could only manage an understanding nod and lifted her wrinkled sweater over her mounds and carefully pushed her bra upwards. She ventured a look for herself and it was as if it hurt more upon seeing the purple marks around the disturbingly red nipples.
"Please," she begged the man who looked very upset when he saw her bruised chest. He proceeded to cast a healing spell on her and the pain vanished, to her relief. When the colour on her breasts was restored, she decided to ask Scabior to take care of the pain in her centre. 'To late to be embarrassed now', she thought cynically. But the man had gone from composed to defeated. His broad shoulders slumped, his head hung low and his eyes avoided hers. Surely he had seen worse done to a woman, had he not? But regardless of his mood swings, she desperately needed him to use his wand on her.
"He hurt me in…another place too. Can you help me?" she mumbled but he gave no response; as if he had not heard her.
She tried again.
"Please, make the pain stop."
Nothing.
"Sc…Scabior?"
It was the first time she used the man's name in front of him and this seemed to work. He released a shuddering breath and met her eyes. In an anguished voice he asked, "Where did that bastard hurt you, and how?" Taken by his forwardness, Hermione answered quickly, "Down there, my…my vagina. He pushed his fingers inside me. But…but I don't think he broke my hymen. But it hurts very much when I move."
"I'll take care of it," he said darkly through clenched teeth and reached for her legs. She could not prevent the hesitation at spreading her thighs for him not one hour after another man had forced himself on her. Luckily, Scabior understood her fear and placed his hand slowly on her naked thigh. With a reassuringly tone he whispered, "Don't worry about a thing. I'll never hurt you."
All anxiety disappeared and she opened her legs. A whimper got out when the pelvis was moved. Hermione felt his warm hand massage her thigh as if trying to distract her from the pain. Thankfully, he did not look at her when she slid down her underwear to her jeans and revealed her most private parts, perhaps to spare her from more humiliation. She knew he would not be able to see the bruises deep inside of her and understood she had to alert him when she felt fine again. The wand barely penetrated her and she felt the need to seek his eyes. He locked his eyes on her and whispered the accurate incantation. She gasped when the throbbing diminished.
After a silent minute she nodded to let him know that the healing was not necessary anymore. Scabior carefully removed his wand and got up from the hard floor. As she brought up her underwear and jeans and covered herself with the blanket, she watched him walk to his green chest and take out a key from his pocket. Once the chest opened he picked up a small jar, a potion bottle and a pink box. He lifted the items easily and made his way to the bed where she waited quietly but not without curiosity. He dumped his burden onto the soft surface beside her. She wanted to sit up and realized she was able to move unrestrainedly. He crouched by her side and pointed on the jar.
"If the ache returns, smear this on the area." Over to the bottle.
"It's the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Use it as you wish. And this," he referred to the pink box, "is just something I think you'll like."
He lifted the top and Hermione's eyes widened.
"Is it really…?" she asked, too surprised to fully believe the content. A smile graced Scabior's lips. He actually looked quite handsome when he smiled.
"Yeah, it's the finest ice cream in England, right from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Diagon Alley. Bought just before the shop closed two years ago, but the ice cream's still okay. Been saving it for a time when it's absolutely needed. Take a spoon and dig in."
Hermione could never have guessed that this dark wizard, in the middle of nowhere, during a war, had a box of ice cream. And he was willing to give the rare food to her, a prisoner and a mudblood!
She was touched by his generosity and kindness. No one had ever given her such a precious gift, considering the circumstances. 'This ice cream must be worth a grand deal of money now. But what if it's poisoned?'
Hermione did not see herself as naïve or innocent anymore. It was a dangerous world and one could not trust anyone. Friends and allies turned to traitors, like Mundungus and Mr. Lovegood. Wards were breached, like at the wedding or just this day by the horrible snatcher.
"I want to share it with you," she declared without showing her suspicion.
"Never thought you'd ask, beautiful!" he exclaimed with a smirk and conjured a spoon for himself. 'Okay, the ice cream's probably harmless,' Hermione thought and took a spoonful of the ice cream, as equally pink as the box, at the same time as he.
It tasted delicious. Once it touched her tongue it melted slowly which brought out the flavour of strawberries with a touch of summer rain, giving the ice cream a certain lightness that could not be found in the muggle world. Hermione reached for another spoonful, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. She assumed she had not eaten anything substantial since the day when she got snatched. As the sweet molten coldness trickled down her throat, she could not ignore a happy feeling appearing within. Of course she was still afraid of what the future might bring for her, but at least it looked like she had judged her host too quickly.
Here he sat on the floor after healing her wounds twice and very civilized shared a box of ice cream with her. How odd!