Hey fellows and followers! New chapter for you. This time I think the swedish band Cue and their hit song fit this chapter tremendously. Please read and review.

Inspirational music: Burnin' by Cue

Chap. 14 Changes

"Scabior?"

He smirked upon hearing his own name from those full lips. He turned from the food stash in his chest to find out what Hermione wanted.

"Yes, beautiful?"

She sat cross-legged on the bed and he could see her whole face flush. That seemed to be her constant response to his pet names and he never got tired of it.

"I'm bored. Can I help you with dinner?"

Scabior huffed. She had recovered from the incident, as they called it, one week ago but he had insisted on her staying in bed. At first she had slept most of the time, using his Dreamless Sleep Potion to make sure she had no nightmares. He had managed to get her to eat more and she had told him that she and her companions had not seen this much tasty food for a long time. He had been annoyed at the typical teenage behaviour; not properly planning for a camping trip in the middle of the winter. Food was essential to keep yourself warm and strong which Scabior was well aware of.

"Fine. You can slice the cheese and put it on the sandwiches," he yielded and kept his eyes fixed on her as she got up and made her way over to the table. He put the bread on the wooden surface and stood beside her.

He had won her trust little by little and they found themselves indulging in conversations occasionally. But he could tell she was still hesitant to speak about her friends who were most likely dead by now. In return, he did not reveal every detail about himself or his trade. Besides, he assumed she would be rather horrified to hear about deep pits with inferi, mental beggars crawling in the streets and housebreakings in the dead of night to snatch entire families. That was not things for the ears of a nice lady he had decided. No, the topics were often about safe, common things like the weather, meals or the measures of their wands.

From time to time Scabior realized Hermione tried to cajole him into spilling information about the camp's location, where her wand was hidden or what the unusual silent Dark Lord was up to. He saw through her every attempt but enjoyed the questions that kept him on his toes.

"Excuse me, I'm just going to take the cheese slicer."

The soft voice woke Scabior from his thoughts and he watched his prisoner reach for the tool far on his side of the table. He found his vision clouded by a mass of golden brown curls that bounced as the woman beneath them stretched. To complete the hypnosis, he was suddenly surrounded by a heavy scent of sweet vanilla. He opened his mouth in pure awe at the beauty she unconsciously brought to his senses with her presence. The moment of bliss probably only lasted for barely a couple of seconds and yet it disarmed him completely and would sustain him through another night on the cold mattress he had brought from an abandoned cottage in the forest.

Scabior glanced at her retreated form, afraid that she had seen his reaction but she just lifted her head and smiled a little. He cleared his throat.

"You know I can get us something more than sandwiches, if you're tired of eating bread all the time."

"Oh?" she exclaimed with a teasing tone. "I'm guessing a dinner that can equal a Hogwarts feast isn't too much to ask for, then."

He rolled his eyes but could not prevent the grin that spread on his face.

"Ha, ha. Very funny, miss. Before I go out to fetch the proper ingredients I must ask, would you like a pumpkin pie with jumping chocolate frogs as topping, or perhaps cauldron cakes with sugar quills sticking out?"

He lifted an eyebrow in pretended query and was pleased to see her bring her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. No, it was not easy to find food in the wizarding world after the war broke out. A grumble from Scabior's stomach reminded him of his present hunger, so he quickly made a sandwich and took a bite of it, savouring the taste of cheese and ham. She followed his lead and they settled on the solid table.

"No, but seriously," Scabior said after having swallowed down his first sandwich, "just tell me what you want to eat and I'll try to get it."

She seemed to contemplate his words and took a sip of water from her bottle.

"How would you get the food?" she asked slowly. Being distracted chewing on the nourishment his male body craved, Scabior answered without thinking, "I'll buy the rare stuff and take the rest from houses."

Sensing more than seeing her tensing up, he halted his eating and turned his head to hers. She chewed on her lower lip before she said, "You steal food from families?"

He put down his unfinished second sandwich and chose his words carefully.

"I only take what I absolutely need and search empty houses."

"Are the houses abandoned or do you just pop in while the families are away?" He did not like her complicated questions for he had not a good answer to them. Feeling defensive he growled sternly, "I cast Homenum Revelio on the place, and if there's no one home I go in, take some meat and potatoes and leave. It's not like I'm emptying the fucking refrigerator."

"But what if the people living there are really poor and only can afford one piece of meat and a few potatoes a week! How dare you steal their food they bought with hard-earned money?" she inquired haughtily as her cheeks turned red. Scabior's blood heated up from anger at her accusations and arousal at the sight of her deliciously tinged face.

"Don't exaggerate, pretty. I said I look for what they've got an' then take just a small amount of it for myself. An' if ya've not noticed, there's a fucking war goin' on! Ya must fight ta survive an' sometimes it's necessary ta borrow things from people unless ya'd rather starve!" he barked.

She got up and staggered further away from him with a disgusted look on her face.

"How can you eat at some poor child's expanse? Maybe I should inform you that I and Harry and Ron lived on mushrooms and beans the entire autumn. So perhaps it's not impossible for you to survive on things you find in forests or stores."

"That oughta explain yer gaunt cheeks an' 'ollow eyes. Ya can't survive on that for long. An' ya're tellin' me ya never stole any food last fall. It's a bloody miracle that ya didn't starve ta death, Hermione!"

She lifted her chin in a display of defiance.

"You're right, we did steal food. We took eggs from farms but we compensated the people by leaving money. Every time."

He tsked but tried to calm himself, not eager to repeat the mistake from last week. It was not an option to run away from her anymore, they had to settle the argument in the tent where they both lived. He clenched his fists and stared at the floor.

"I've learnt to hold onto my galleons for dear life, and do whatever it takes to stay alive. Is that hard to understand?" he asked in a low voice.

Hermione stood still, but not scared. She mumbled, "I just feel that in this mad world, someone has to keep doing good things or else we're all doomed."

Scabior heard her clearly and ran a frustrated hand through his tangled brown and red hair.

"Do you think I'm a doomed and evil man?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she countered.

"I'm not so sure I'm good enough to accommodate to the needs of others, apart from myself." He talked without reasoning with himself, which made him feel very exposed to the untainted woman before him.

She met his eyes, chocolate mocha to coffee black. With his gaze fixed on her, he observed her hesitantly walking closer to his place on the table, lifting her hand to his face and carefully resting it against his unshaved cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the soft touch as the remaining irritation floated away. His nose was placed near her wrist and he inhaled deeply, appeasing once the smell of her filled his system. He liked her for everything she was and hated himself for everything he was. And she reminded him of the fact that he could not hold a candle to her.

"Scabior."

He opened his eyes, hoping to be able to throw her an apologetic look. "I think you did quite well when you took care of me after Bellatrix and the other incident. That must mean that you do have some goodness within."

He sighed into her warm palm, relieved that she did not deem him a lost cause and judged him for some of his actions.

"Thank you for saving my life and my mind, Scabior." He looked deep into her earnest eyes as he responded with a somewhat husky voice, "I've always been keen on self-preservation but now, I want to keep you alive as well."

She blushed magnificently and removed her hand from his cheek. Despite covering her burning face with her curls, it was still impossible to not notice her cheeks. Scabior smiled as he watched her make her way to the bed and get into it, with her clothes on. He turned to the remnants of their interrupted dinner and threw them on the growing garbage pile in the corner.

Then he prepared for the night by taking off his leather coat and undoing the golden buttons on his jacket until it could slide down his muscular torso. He felt no inhibition at showing his body to the woman but deliberately chose to not see if she stared at him, wanting her to enjoy him without interruption of another blushing attack. At last he removed his boots and lay down on his mattress on the floor. He covered himself with a blanket of his own and turned off the light in the tent with his wand.

As he closed his eyes, he thought that every day with Hermione would be an adventure, but he was not too bothered by it, to tell the truth.

When the light disappeared, Hermione turned her head to face the soft wall. She could not believe she had just ogled at a half-naked man who was unaware of her looking.

The damned cheeks blushed at the unfortunately memorized image of Scabior's handsome profile. He was pale but strong with broad shoulders that used to be hidden beneath his black coat. From what she could see, the muscles on his back had been visible when he had let the green jacket fall to the floor. And his front! Hermione began to feel warm and fussy when she thought about his shaped torso with defined pectorals and an abdomen she had never seen before.

But then she did not have much to compare with, having only seen Ron and Harry a few times. Some years ago thay had both been lanky boys but recently they had begun to fill out; Harry becoming a bit broader and Ron getting more bulky. Neither of them could compete with Scabior in that area, as his grown-up body looked like something from a perfume commercial.

Then Hermione remembered that Ron and Harry most likely were dead now. Tears gathered in her eyes when she thought about her best friends being tortured and killed by the hands of Voldemort. Of course she did not know any details since Scabior had not told her anything concerning Voldemort, but she found it impossible to believe that her friends were alive.

She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and sniffled quietly, not wanting the snatcher to hear her. Her feelings towards him were truly ambivalent, as he in fact was an enemy that did the dirty work for Voldemort and held her as prisoner. On the other hand he took good care of her all the time and even if she had not been given permission to leave the tent, she was not sure se wanted to, knowing that she was a defenceless mudblood woman in a world of dark powers.

So for now she bided her time in the tent, waiting for an opportunity to find out where her wand was and then perhaps try to get in touch with the Order or whatever resistance movement there was. Because Godric help her, she would find the rest of the horcruxes and destroy them even if she had to do it herself. She had made a promise to herself to assist Harry in his hunt for the pieces of Voldermort's soul and even though Harry was dead, she still wished to fulfil her promise and get rid of the insane wizard.

As she yawned she let one of her arms drop to the floor beside the bed and feel for the bottle with the Dreamless Sleep Potion. She had begun to cut down on the dosage a few days ago and was relieved that she did not have any nightmares at all. But then she did not remember the content of her dreams. 'Well, at least I don't wake up scared senseless.'

Perhaps she should try to sleep tonight without the pointless potion. She drew up her hand and buried it under the blanket, ready to fall asleep.