Hello, friends! Sorry for the wait, but I've been busy with my family. Perhaps I can make it up to you by a particularly long chapter? And thank you for your wonderful reviews. All I do (almost) is to wait for your words. You're the best! Oh, and I've published my first oneshot, a story about Lucius. Check it out on my homepage, if you want.

Inspirational music: Should I stay by Gabrielle

Chap. 26 Confrontations

Scabior heard Hermione perfectly when she came back into the cottage. Her tentative steps through the corridor made him wonder if she had left her bad mood outside.

Apparently she ventured into the kitchen, at least his ears told him that.

After some minutes she entered the bedroom and strode straight to the window, bringing a puff of fresh air into the room. Scabior hungrily savoured the smell of outside but detected with his snatcher gift a touch of salt. He began to talk to her back.

"Why do you smell of salt?"

She spoke slowly but composed, with her eyes fixed on the field, "I went down to the sea. The sea usually is described as salty."

Scabior grimaced, feeling her anger bubble beneath a thin shell he simply had to throw himself at over and over until she vented her emotions and he could apologize.

"You shouldn't go down there by yourself. Those cliffs are dangerous," he berated, her welfare the most important thing to him. Unfortunately, Hermione misunderstood his comment.

She whipped around and said stiffly, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And lo and behold, here I am without having fallen onto some stones."

Hermione was probably not aware that she had just given him a good verbal weapon to use. Scabior leaned forward and narrowed his eyes.

"Taking care of yourself, eh? As in starving yourself?"

Her eyes widened but she kept silent.

"Oh, yes. My mother told that little detail to me just now. The question is, why the fuck would the notoriously sharp Hermione Granger do that?"

He leaned back contentedly against the pillow and waited for her declaration of, according to Claire, her strong feelings for him.

Hermione frowned and looked him straight in the eyes, as she hissed, "Didn't you tell me in your tent that there wouldn't be a lot of food where I was going? Well, Scabior, you were right. Claire has also explained to me how hard it is to find food in Ireland now. Frankly, I don't think this to be the time to gluttonise."

Scabior showed his teeth and felt frustration invading his mind. She had copped out with some bullshit excuse instead of admitting her feelings. He felt disappointed.

"Don't go down that road with me, love. I'm sure you haven't exactly seen my mother eating like a sparrow. She'll find food and you don't have to make your meals smaller only because she bitch about it," Scabior muttered and watched how Hermione flicked her eyes and wiped her mouth with a pale hand.

"I made myself a sandwich in the kitchen when I came back. I couldn't stop myself from eating it within seconds. But it's hard to be a guest and constantly nag on another one's supply," she explained softly and Scabior became aware of how young and small she seemed, standing alone on the floor. His anger evaporated and he smiled genuinely at her.

"You're more than a guest here, and I'm sure mum agrees with me. You've done enough to deserve proper meals. Don't feel bad about it."

A gleam appeared in Hermione's chocolate brown eyes before it vanished just as quick. She took a deep breath and then asked him with the arms around herself, "Is it alright then if I stay here for maybe two weeks more. I mean, until the hunt for me in England has calmed down?"

Scabior weighed his words carefully before he answered, "Yeah, sure. This is a safe place for both of us. But may I ask what you plan to do after those weeks?" Hermione looked at her feet and tapped her fingers against the red shawl that was tossed over her shoulders.

"I need to find Harry and Ron again and help them defeat the Dark Lord."

'Ouch!'

That snub hurt Scabior since she sounded so much at ease when she told him she intended to leave him. He sat up and supported his arms on the bent knees.

"What made you think you could do that without my permission?," he snarled viciously and she lifted her head defiantly.

"Scabior, I may be in your company, but it's certainly not required of me to ask you for permission."

His mother had been dead wrong, and he had believed her drunken fantasies. Hermione had no warm feelings for him. He wanted to punish her for that.

"An' I may look like a fuckin' vegetable right now, but I'm still yer snatcher who caught ya. Ya're my prisoner an' I'm tellin' ya ta stay 'ere!" he growled and felt his cheeks redden from anger. Hermione tossed the shawl away and began to pace back and forth.

"So we're back to that, huh? I'm your prisoner and you've got all the advantages?" she chuckled humourlessly before she shouted at him, "Well guess what, Scabior. We're in the same boat now! You can't reveal where I am to the Death Eaters, because they probably want you just as much. And I've got my wand now. This situation is nothing like the one in your tent. You can't command me to do anything!"

Hermione drew out her wand but held it peacefully. With an evil grin, Scabior reached under the blanket and took out his wand.

"I'm not as weak as ya think, beautiful. I can make ya stay 'ere if I want fer as long as I want. I'm not goin' ta turn ya over when there's other things one can do with a prisoner."

Hermione stopped in the middle of the room and damped her lips quietly. Scabior watched her intensely with mingled desire and fury.

"I'm not a servant. It's not in my nature to bow my neck to those who declare themselves superior. I will duel you in this room even if you're not fully healed if it comes to that."

She gave him a hard look and continued icily, "But I never thought you would threaten to do the same thing to me as Lackie did."

Scabior tensed his grip on the wand and mentally slapped himself. He behaved like a bastard.

"I didn't say nothin' like that! I'm sorry 'ermione. It's just that..." He gave a frustrated shout and pushed his hair from his warm face.

"Alright, I o'erstepped. An' I'm not demandin' o' ya ta serve me or anythin'. I just don't understand why you would want ta return ta England when we've finally made it out o' that 'ellhole alive. We're safe 'ere an' no-one will know 'bout us."

Hermione looked wryly at him and remarked, "And do what? Hide from the war until the Dark Lord wins and really destroys not only England but the whole of Britain? I'm Hermione Granger and I've vowed to myself that I would do anything to help Harry defeat Him. That task is dangerous, I know that first-hand. But it's necessary if the light will ever succeed."

Scabior snorted, concealing his raising protectiveness with a mask of disapproval.

"I wonder how you'd ever get the chance to take Him down when you lot were so foolish. Not hiding your identities with spells or potions, not moving your tiny tent often enough to avoid discovery and not having food to make you strong and alert."

Hermione tsked in a rather cute way, thought Scabior, had it been another time.

"I've learnt my lesson about those things, thank you very much. And we actually already had managed to undermine the Dark Lord several times when you and your snatcher gang came by," she said matter-of-factly and her answer intrigued Scabior but he ignored it for now. Instead he observed Hermione as she walked to her bed and sat down on it with her small feet on the floor. Her curls were beautifully illuminated by the daylight from the window behind her.

"Where was Claire going, by the way? I met her outside but she only continued to stroll past me," she mentioned with a hint of curiosity in her voice. Scabior welcomed the change of subject for the moment but knew the storm was far from over.

"Ah, yes. She was going to work. Said she need to earn her sickles so we can have food."

"Oh." Hermione blushed and began to twirl her wand nervously. It was probable she felt guilty about the damn food again.

In a soothing tone Scabior mumbled, "Don't worry, love. I bet my boots mum has her connections and can find plenty of edible stuff if she wants. Plus, I have a strong suspicion she spends half of her salary on booze, so she really exaggerates when she claims she need to slave to earn dough for food."

Hermione looked positively aghast and spluttered out, "That's really unhealthy! How long do you think she's overconsumed liquor?"

Scabior snickered a little at her sweet innocence before he announced, "Since I was four. At least that's as far as I can remember. She very well might have been more or less drunk during my entire childhood."

Again he had chocked her but this time she leaned her head sideways and said, not with laced pity but with kind earnest, "How terrible for you, Scabior. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

Taken by her concern, Scabior averted his gaze and shrugged in his enlarged pyjamas.

"S' okay. She never treated me like shit or anything. She just...wasn't like other mothers."

"What does she work as?"

"When she moved to Ireland she found a job in a pub nearby. She's a waitress and occasionally a singer. Mum honestly has a great voice. It's the booze that makes her sound hoarse," Scabior revealed calmly and stole some secret moments to look at Hermione who let her gaze travel over the walls.

Her white cheeks began to turn red, Scabior reckoned it was the sandwich and the temperature inside the cottage that made her warm up. His snatcher could relinquish some of the worry for her health.

There was no question in which house Scabior had been in when he was at Hogwarts.

Green and silver adorned the battered walls, but even in Hermione's forgiving opinion she thought the silken banners and the fancy quidditch poster misplaced in the bedroom. Maybe the reason was that the room did not belong to a small boy but a full-grown man. Or perhaps it was because Scabior did not entirely seem like a Slytherin man with a trivial interest like quidditch.

But then, what did she know about Scabior? This could be a golden opportunity to ask him about his past. She swallowed down the lump of fear for his answers and asked, "Who is that player?"

Scabior turned his head towards the quidditch player who was busy with mounting his broomstick and zooming out of the picture frame in a matter of seconds.

"You're clearly no fan of quidditch, then. It's the bang on Roderick Plumpton who played for Tutshill Tornados many years ago. He was some sort of idol of mine when I was younger. No-one has beaten his record; catching the snitch within four seconds."

Scabior lost the wrinkles in his face and he had recited the last bit as if he had often told that to people. Unable to prevent her smile, Hermione pointed at the banners covering the rest of the walls.

"And I suppose you were in Slytherin. How was it?"

Scabior suddenly grew serious and asked, almost suspiciously, "What do you mean, how was it? It was my house where my mates were. What else is there to know?"

Trying as she may to not be prejudiced, Hermione still recognized a typical Slytherin behaviour in his manner. He did not appear to be comfortable with opening himself up to her, at least not about that particular subject. She spared him from more questions about Hogwarts.

"Just wondered. I guess it's hard to see you in another house but I think you're not acting like a Slytherin all the time," she explained but caught Scabior glaring incredulously at her.

'Oops.'

"Care to spell that statement out for me, love?"

"I only meant that you've been rather kind to me even if you are a Death Eater working for the Dark Lord." She stretched her back, preparing to launch herself into the inevitable argument.

"If you think I'm a goody-goody, you're wrong. I've made myself a name among His ranks where many of my old mates are too. I'm not less a man than they are," Scabior snapped and frowned grimly at the blanket covering his legs.

'So that's maybe why he chose that side in the war. He feels insecure and compares himself with other evil men,' Hermione pondered.

"Why would you want to be like them?" she wondered quietly, not keen on infuriating him. But she promised herself she would not shy away from the argy-bargy.

"I'm sorry if your privileged self has missed it, but there's money to earn in this war. And I need those galleons to survive," he declared sarcastically as if he was talking to a child. '

"Even if other people suffer by your actions? Is the price really worth it?" she retorted coolly which angered Scabior more. Once again he started to yell.

"What d'ya want me ta say? D'ya want the ugly truth? Well, 'ere it is; I joined the Dark Lord as soon as 'e returned. I didn't moan when they burnt the Dark mark onto my skin. I went ta Azkaban some time later and that place really fucked me up! No freedom and no outdoor activities fer months until that mass breakout when the ugly wench Bellatrix also escaped.

Once outside I began ta catch mudbloods and leave 'em as toys fer the higher ranks. The hunts were fun an' when I realized the Dark Lord was up fer paying fer my services, I obeyed eagerly like a loyal crup puppy and then the business was runnin'. I collected other snatchers who wanted their share o' the gold too an' we became out-fucking-standin' at catching wanted persons. An' it felt so damn wonderful ta run after those mudbloods, feelin' the wind in yer face an' smellin' their fear until ya finally worn them out an' simply left 'em at the Ministry! Piece o' cake!"

Scabior's chest heaved after his long tirade and his eyes darted to the ceiling instead of looking at Hermione. She on the other hand stared solemnly at him as he began to rub his ribs and contorted his flushed face.

He was brave to admit all that to her but Hermione needed answers to the most crucial questions she had gathered in her mind before she could deal with the new information.

"What happened to the people you turned over to the Ministry?" she whispered.

"Went to trial, all of them. Got stripped of their wands and was left to survive the best they could in the gutter. They were easy preys for the sadists wandering around the wizarding communities," Scabior hissed back but still refused to meet her gaze.

"Scabior. Please look at me."

She saw him clench his jaw and continue to avoid her.

"As the manly Death Eater you are, look at me."

Her teasing tone got his attention and he whipped his head around, glaring at her with hateful eyes.

"Have you alone ever killed, raped or harmed any of your victims?"

He appeared to be in fierce distress and opened the mouth to speak but closed it again. She allowed him to take his time, nevertheless growing restless the longer he kept silent. At last he trained his dark, enthralling eyes on her own and sighed in defeat.

"I've never taken a life with my hands or my wand. But I looked the other way when my men sometimes got too excited. I preferred gold over playing with corpses, though. So maybe I'm guilty of that crime indirectly."

Hermione did not interrupt, although she became aware of how she clamped her hands around her wand until sweat formed in her palms.

"As for taking reluctant women, I've never done that either. Not in my trade and not outside it. Mum taught me that a pureblood man should at least possess that trait. Every woman I've been with has been willing and enjoyed it."

Scabior paused and fidgeted on the bed with beetroot cheeks. Hermione licked her dry lips and felt herself become warm in her thick clothes.

But she despised the words about every woman. She decided to voice her thoughts once and for all.

"How many woman have you...I mean if it's alright to ask?"

"In my defence, I have a snatcher nature which means I need to chase things. When I was younger I found myself interested in chasing women. But...it's difficult to explain but somehow, it's different with you. I don't know myself anymore. You've made me that way, beautiful. I'm lost because of you."

His voice was laced with confusion but Hermione detected a slight tremble that intrigued her. His eyes hypnotized her with their burning intensity and she fought for control. There was something more she had to ask. Something.

"Harmed,"she exclaimed.

Scabior blinked away the darkening glaze in his eyes and smiled encouragingly. She cleared her throat, hoping that the mists in her mind would dissolve for a while.

"Have you ever harmed anyone? I can take the truth, Scabior, just please tell me."

His smile faltered and he could have mumbled a curse. He worried his bottom lip and looked past Hermione, at the peaceful view the dirty window provided.

"Promise me you'll not leave after my answer, love," he all but begged and she closed her eyes to not be tempted to succumb to his eyes and forget her important question.

With quiver in her small voice, she said, "I'll do my best."

He nodded as if understanding that was all she could give him. His lips moved, otherwise his face was void of emotion.

"Can't say I've been an angel. I've not maimed or left some lasting damage on a person but I've beaten men now and then. Sometimes because they annoyed me or didn't obey my commands. A few of my preys struggled some much that I simply had to use magic to shut them up. And some people..."

Scabior halted his words as if contemplating whether he should continue.

"Some people I had to hurt to survive. It was me or them. But I've never beaten a woman," he added and shot his eyes to Hermione who appreciated the small measure of humanity.

"Say something."

His whisper reached her haunted mind and she fought back tears that threatened to spill over. She looked deep into his dark eyes from across the room, creating an imaginary bridge over a tumbling ocean of trouble. She intended to sound formal an yet her voice came out as a hoarseness.

"Would you still do those things if you had to?" Not only her imminent future but also her frail heart depended on the answer.

"I don't want to be responsible for anyone's death anymore in any way, except if it's about protecting myself or the people close to me from danger."

Scabior chuckled before he gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling.

"Why is that? Can you tell me why I suddenly resent death and pain? Because I've got no fucking idea what's happened to me since you came along. I don't know myself anymore."

Unexpectedly he waved his wand and the night table was thrown into the wall, sending splinters to the floor. Hermione flinched and lifted her own wand in case she needed it. Scabior began to make the drawers fly out from the chest of drawers like a madman, and had them smashing loudly when they hit the floor.

"I'm a lost man! Why did ya do this ta me? Makin' me pity them Malfoy's at the damn Dark Lord's meeting even if I've almost never met 'em! An' where's my snatcher, huh? Why isn't 'e tellin' me ta screw ya an' move on with my life instead o' riskin' my sorry arse ta protect ya?" Scabior screamed but not directly at her.

He trashed on his bed, making the linens crease, and seemed oblivious to the mess he caused in the room.

"Why in hell am I only carin' 'bout ya all the time an' completely forget everythin' important like gold, birds an' the common thought 'bout mudbloods? Ya've ruined me, 'ermione! 'ow can I work as a bloody snatcher now when I'm a freakin' softy? An' then ya stab me in the back by makin' me feel so bad 'bout myself when ya do things fer me I don't fuckin' deserve!"

He panted unevenly before he tipped his head forward and buried it between his knees. His whole body shook but no sound escaped him, which in a way scared Hermione more than his outburst.

She observed the untidy floor and saw clothes lie scattered between the abandoned drawers, hiding pointed splinters.

So now she knew. Knew how Scabior felt about her and it did not intimidate her. His experience with intense feelings towards another human being was scarce and he could not comprehend or handle the situation that was so foreign to him. Perhaps he was as clueless to emotional love as she was to physical love. He needed her to sort it out for him. And she wanted to stay.

Scabior was changing which terrified him but it was a necessary step towards becoming a good man. So many things he had done for her already, not to mention saving her life repeatedly. He was not as lost as he thought. Carefully walking across the floor, Hermione reached the soft bed she had only enjoyed for a moment days ago and sat down. Scabior did not stir.

She caressed his tangled brown and red hair before bringing her hand to his visible forehead, erasing the troubled lines.

"Hermione," came a muffled voice from his hidden face.

"Yes?"

"You smell nicer than anyone I've ever met."

The pool of warmth settled in her core. "Thank you, Scabior."

He lifted his red head and Hermione felt at home being so close to him again. His eyes had gone from feral to hesitant.

"What d'ya think o' me now?"

His accent was still prominent despite his calm appearance. She sighed as she followed the red tendril with her forefinger. "You might have been a different man before. But I can see that you deep inside want to change. Change for...me. And I respect you for that."

His lips were set in a thin line and he studied her face with that burning gaze.

"Only respect?"

"No. Not only respect."

She withdrew her hand but he caught it swiftly and held it firmly.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for being ungrateful for your care. Let me make it up to you."

There was the soft, rousing tone she had only heard a few times when Scabior had been particular intimate with her. She loved that tone.

"How?" she asked slowly.

"You get to share my bed tonight."

His husky voice sounded so sure and Hermione did not need to look back at her uncomfortable bed. She wanted Scabior very much. The time had arrived when she trusted her heart and the warm feeling in her center. She wanted him near.

Unaware that she had held her breath, she whispered out, "I would like that very much."

He smiled and his eyes twinkled with happiness as he buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her towards him.

Before their lips touched, Hermione breathed out, "Wait, when is Claire coming back?"

A pleasant rumble travelled through Scabior who whispered back mischievously, "She usually works all night. We've got hours."

Review, please! I'm a bit insecure about this chapter and need to know what you think. Thanks for reading!