So, so, so sorry for the unusually long delay! I redecorated some rooms in my home and was just too tired to write, even if I desperately wanted to. And tomorrow I'm going for a vacation trip. But I shall do my best and write while away and then post a new chapter once I'm back. And thank you for your reviews. I have not had the energy to respond (bad sycamoretree!), but know that I'm very grateful for your messages. Enjoy this chapter and please review so I can see tons of reviews when I come back in a week!

Inspirational music: Lovesong by The Cure (or the cover I prefer by Tori Amos)

Chap. 28 Frenzies

It was difficult to tell when exactly sleep had conquered Hermione's sated and exhausted body but when she next opened her eyes, it was pitchdark.

There was literarly no light whatsoever in the bedroom, nor from the crack under the door and the black night ruled outside the window. She might as well keep her eyes closed as she would have to rely on her other senses anyway.

When the mists from the blissful sleep cleared, she detected her lack of clothes. And yet she did not freeze under the thin blanket that covered her nudity. Her body got heat from the large male body spooning her.

Hermione smiled to herself. Once again, Scabior lay flushed against her smaller frame, only this time it was significantly more pleasant. She could feel his naked skin glued to hers, very efficiently sharing its warmth with her.

Suddenly something pressed into her folds. And her hip bone was also exposed to immediate heat. Putting two and two together, Hermione figured that Scabior had thrown an arm over her hip and his hand possessevely cupped her sex, with his long fingers nestled between her folds. That revelation made Hermione feel both protected and flattered, comforted by the thought that Scabior did not regret being with her.

She could hear him breath evenly behind her, apparantly as tired as she had been after their coupling. Remembering the intensity of her first time with a man, Hermione found herself aroused once more and her pulse quickened. A small part of her had worried before about the unevitable pain but Scabior had been gentle with her at the crucial moments and allowed her to take control too.

From what she could tell, lying still in a bed, she was only a bit sore, and that probably had more to do with deep, accurate thrusts than breaking her hymen. To feel Scabior moving, pulsing, swelling within her had been amazing and far exceeded her imagination of sex. She did not regret her decision to give her virginity to him.

At that moment, the sleeping Scabior flexed his fingers again, making her breath hitch when he happened to rub her clit and rimmed the tender opening to her core.

Thinking the warm air in the room would make both of them boil come morning, Hermione carefully stretched out her free arm to the night table where Scabior had placed his wand. Scabior growled a little and gyrated his narrow hips until she lied back with the wand safe in her grip. A small flick and a non-verbal spell later, the dirty window opened so the cold air could lower the current temperature in the bedroom.

When a chilly breeze reached Hermione's face, the only part of her exposed to the air, she drank it down but shivered slightly. Irish nights in April were still quite cold. But the air did make her feel better and she lay down her head on the pillow.

Just as she closed her eyes to seek out sleep, the fingers on her nether parts began to move with impressive purpose, coming from a sleeping man. She jerked when a fingertip found her bud, getting momentarily distracted by it to notice how two other fingers swept around her opening in circles. Not until they dipped into her now damp canal did she let out a hoarse moan, relishing the sensation of being filled again.

"You're awake," came a, by sleep and sex, husky voice behind her.

Scabior said it simply, not posing the words as a question. Hermione swallowed and retorted, not with a steady voice due to his fingers ministration inside her, "And you're not asleep."

She heard Scabior inhale deeply before a shift in the mattress told her he had lifted his head. He buried his nose in her hair and his warm breathing against the nape of her neck made her shiver, and not from the cold air.

"I'm a light sleeper," he mumbled and kissed her dishevelled hair, slowly making his way down to her bare neck. "You're cold, love."

His burning lips ghosted over the frail skin and Hermione pressed herself closer to him, trusting him to quell the craving in her aroused body.

"We need some fresh air," she argued without any trace of animosity. "This is not fresh air. It's bloody colder than the world conference for dementors," he muttered but began all the same to suck on a sensitive spot below her earlobe. Hermione inhaled sharply before she stuttered, "You're doing a great job keeping me warm."

Those skilled fingers of his ran along her silky walls more easily now that wetness had gathered. When he began to hit her nice spot by curving his long digits, she trembled against his strong chest.

"Scabior, don't you want... want to come inside?" she gasped, fast approaching another orgasm. He bit down on the shell of her ear and thrust more feverishly into her.

"Pains me to decline such an offer, literally. I feel tired from my injury. And the potion's wearing off, love. But if you don't mind, I can still make you come."

Scabior turned her around and leand over her, resolutely tugging down the thin blanket that covered both of them. Hermione could barely make out the outlines of him in the dark which annoyed her, but on the other hand, that meant her other senses was profoundly heightened. His thumb drummed against her clit while his other hand found her breast and massaged it.

"I don't mind one bit," she replied and reached out her own hands to find him. She got stuck in his tangled hair that in a way resembled her own mane. In the dark, Scabior dipped his head and kissed her softly all over the face, intentionally or not, until he ended at her plump lips. He kissed her without force, only grazing her longing lips. She could detect a musky, wild scent coming from him that made her want him even more. He lifted his head and tweaked her hard nipple which had her arching into his solid torso.

"Mmm. Your lips still taste like salt and flowers," he hummed and moved his buried fingers so deep she could feel his knuckles brushing against her folds. His nose sniffed its way to her other ear as Hermione fought valiantly to not succumb to the nearby pleasure just yet.

She heard him smell her curls just above the ear before he whispered seducingly, "Hermione, whether it's my fingers or my cock that fuck you good in your clenching, tight, wet pussy; rest assure I'll always make you come so hard you won't be able to walk straight afterwards."

And so he rolled her nipple, stroked her sensitive bud and rammed his fingers forcefully into her depth. Hermione let out a strangled cry from the ecstasy and thrusted without control, trying to milk the digits that stayed inside her until the ripples ceased and she caught her breath. The open window had been in vain, as she anyway was covered in a humid sheen.

When she lay back again onto the mattress, Scabior removed his fingers carefully and she listened to smacking sounds that pierced the returned silence.

"So fuckin' good fer me, beautiful," Scabior grunted and continued to lick his fingers clean from her essence. Desiring intimacy, Hermione groped for his broad shoulders and grabbed hold of them to bring him down to her. Scabior put one bare leg between hers and presumably propped himself up on his elbow beside her. It was no secret he was very aroused as Hermione felt him pressing into her hip.

She turned her head and kissed him lovingly before taking his free hand and placing it on her stomach.

"Thank you," she whispered. He drawled back, "Never thank me. I'm the one who's found salvation in this mad world. I should thank you."

Hermione smiled and decided to caress the soft hair on his arm as he began to draw patterns on her belly.

"What do we do when your mother returns?" Hermione voiced her sudden thought that had popped up in her mind.

"What do you mean? 'Cause if you plan to do her in, I'm right behind you, sweetheart," Scabior joked and she lightly pinched his arm.

"You're awful and you know it," she chastised but heard him rumble merrily. "I mean, what do we do about...us? Should we tell her immediately or pretend as if there's nothing going on between us?"

Scabior answered, and Hermione would bet her Hogwarts: A History copy he accompanied the words with a large grin on his face, "Trust me Hermione, we're not gonna be able to hide it no matter how hard we try. Mum's already seen through us and knows we have the hots for each other. She'll know the second she sets her foot in this house."

Hermione blushed despite the coolness in the bedroom. Not because she was embarrassed by her and Scabior's relationship, but because Claire would see them so soon after her first time. Somehow it seemed improper and Hermione would prefer that anything that only concerned her and her lover stayed between them. She patted Scabior wearily on the arm.

"Then you must remember to call me Penelope whenever your mother is in the house. Can't risk revealing me to her, can we?"

"You're right. Even if I trust mum's loyalty, there's always a chance she'll talk when she's plastered." Scabior sighed. "Though, that means no sex when she's around."

Hermione frowned, not following his train of thoughts. Scabior continued in an exasperated tone, "There's no way in hell I'm calling you Penelope when we're shagging. Just common decency and besides, even if my life depended on it I couldn't swear I won't cry out your real name when I'm coming inside you, Hermione."

His voice had dropped and held a promise that ignited something in Hermione's heart. "That's, eh, good to know, I guess," she replied haltingly and leaned her head sideways into the hollow of his neck. She felt him rest his chin on the crown of her head and together, they listened to each other's breathing in the night.

Scabior woke up with Hermione in his arms, which brought on a smile on his face. He looked down at her relaxed form and was astonished by the way her silken curls gleamed in the soft light of dawn. To his delight and masculine pride, a red lovebite decorated her lovely neck and made him want her again.

He had in his past deflowered many girls and so, he had been able to use every skill he had learnt to pleasure Hermione. But she had not been like any other woman.

Whereas Scabior usually wanted to silently sneak away after a romp between the sheets, he now desired nothing but to stay with Hermione in bed and satisfy her over and over until his scent covered every inch of her delicious body and he had her scent forever imprinted on his own skin.

It had been more than sex between them last night. Scabior had for the first time shared deep feelings with a woman and was positive that had made the love-making so much better. Scabior had never used that term when describing the primal act. And yet it fitted because there had not been animalistic fucking this time. He had devoured her with a rare gentleness and had come so hard his eyes had rolled back in his head. It annoyed him that his body had ached afterwards from the exertion, otherwise he would have buried himself several times inside Hermione's tempting pussy.

Scabior looked up at the still open window and greedily breathed in the fresh air that swept into the bedroom. To have Hermione tucked safely in his embrace and smell the scents of outside would surely please the snatcher within. But to his surprise, Scabior felt nothing, beside apristine, rising lust for Hermione again. He gathered the snatcher for once was completely content. It sensed the taste of freedom in the air and harboured no urge to run away from this woman. Scabior could for once fully relax.

He bowed his head and kissed Hermione lazily on the forehead. 'My salvation. My treasure.'

But then something disturbed him in his calm moment. The call of nature.

With a growl of resentment, Scabior lifted the sleeping woman away and inched off the bed. He had managed to not wake her up. Holding his breath for the challenge before him, he slowly got up, supporting himself by habit with one hand placed on the wall above the bed. No pain so far. Then he stepped forward and spotted his pyjamas pants on the floor. A wandless non-verbal spell made the clothing fly to his hand and with great patience, Scabior dressed himself.

Once he had walked through the door without limping at all, he closed the door silently behind him. It pleased him that he did not need to brace his bare shoulder against the wall as he made his way to the bathroom. He really hated to be incapable of taking care of himself and being weak.

When he had finished his morning routine, he stepped out into the corridor, and met his mother. Claire came through the entrance carrying two bags in each arm. Her skirt had wrinkles and her flaming red hair was a bit in tangles. She walked with tired steps and Scabior hurried to help her with the burdens. Claire happily let him take the heavy bags and he nodded to her.

"Morning, mum."

Claire wiped off her face with a hand and sighed, "'Hello, son. Ready fer runnin' 'round again, I see"

While she spoke, Scabior studied her exhausted feature worriedly.

"You alright, mum?"

"Yeah, just tough night. Worked like a bleedin' houseelf ta serve every man. Although," she grinned and shook her skirt so Scabior could hear the obvious sound of coins from it, "turned out they all missed me. They tipped me twice as much as they do normal days. So I went shopping food."

Relieved that nothing dreadful had happened her, Scabior glanced down at the bags he had put on the floor. One contained bread, fruits and some meat. The other one had five large bottles of Firewhiskey.

Scabior felt a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his bruise. His mother surely intended to drink all this and he dared not guess how fast it would take. Beverages could be replenished like any other food, but they lost taste and alcohol each time the spell was cast on them, so one had to keep buying them. Five bottles was easily enough to keep a large man drunk throughout a month.

Scabior took to use a reversed strategy to save his mother from all the bottles.

"I do hope you're going to share those with me. Merlin knows I haven't had a drink in weeks. Penelope refuses to get me some."

He hid a grimace at the false name for Hermione that sounded so wrong on his tongue.

Claire's face grew stern and she snarled out, "An' why should I share them bottles with ya who didn't pay one knut fer 'em?"

Scabior prayed that his mother had not woken up Hermione with her sounds. He said in a low voice, "Because I'm your son."

Claire began to laugh in his face and Scabior felt a building frustration in his nearly recovered body at her noisy and crazy behaviour.

"Scabior, dear, I thought ya would come up with a better reason than yer usual. Ya always say that! I'm yer son, I'm yer son. I hoped ya were more inventive, but I guess I overestimated ya. I'm so sick an' tired o' 'earin' that."

Scabior went at her, pushed her back ruthlessly until her back connected with the door. He loomed over his defiant mother whos head barely reached his bare, heaving chest. She had raised her eyebrows and observed him with cool interest.

"Listen 'ere," he growled darkly but did not touch her, "Ya were pretty delighted I was yer son when I put up all them wards an' the Infidelius ta protect ya! I know I'm better than ya think, an' I'm not gonna let ya drink all ya fuckin' want as long as I'm in the cottage. Consider this a new rule. Will ya please understand that I want ya ta survive in this damn war. An' I'm takin' three bottles now."

He spun around and bent down to fetch the toxic bottles. To his surprise, Claire did not protest and stayed by the door without her wand out. Scabior muttered to her as he began to walk back to his few square meters of paradise, "Don't worry, mum. I'll be gone in two weeks with Penelope."

He heard her clear her throat and turned his head. The shadows under her eyes and the delicate wrinkles on her forehead were visible to his on the surface calm eyes. She slumped her shoulders and admitted quietly, "Ya've changed, boy. Ya're not the selfish, bickering man ya used ta be. It's her, isn't it? She changed ya."

Scabior felt all suspicion for a possible retaliation disappear and mumbled back to his mother, "Just let me keep her and you alive."

Claire nodded in affirmation and stood meekly among her bags. Just as Scabior reached for the doorknob to his bedroom with the hand that did not hold the bottles, Claire called to his back, "Oh, and Scabior! Nice scratches on yer back.

" No matter how hard he fought, he could not prevent one corner of his mouth from raising. There was the mother he was used to and prefered. He shook his head and entered the bedroom for some private talk with Hermione.

Apparently she had awoked because her brilliant chocolate eyes were fixed on his person. Scabior smiled at her and closed the door behind him before he strode towards the bed. He discovered that she had tried to comb her nest of curls and that she clutched the blanket to her front, probably to cover her nudity. But her face showed no trace of fear or regret in the morning light, which reassured Scabior of her feelings for him.

Suddenly craving her sweet and beautiful body, he put down the bottles on the floor, leaned down and crawled on all four to her and placed a feral, desperate kiss on her swollen lips. She closed her eyes and responded to him by opening her mouth, which made Scabior more aroused by her complete trust. He stroked his tongue softly against hers for a moment before he leaned back and watched her simmering eyes finding his own.

"Good morning, Hermione," he whispered and nuzzled her nose, unable to keep himself from touching her. Her hands left the hem of the blanket and landed on his warm cheeks, languidly tracing the skin with her fingers. "Good morning, Scabior," she breathed out and gave him a happy smile that almost made him forget about his mother this morning.

He pressed his forehead to hers and asked gently, "How are you, love? D'you want anything for the pain?"

He wanted something for the pain she, with her innocence and beauty, caused in his heart.

Hermione shook her head and mumbled back, "No, it's not that bad. And I want to feel that you've been inside me."

'Okay, maybe I'm corrupting her innocence', Scabior thought smugly, and felt her nails pricking against the skin of his cheeks.

"I heard Claire come back. I thought we established a deal that you were not to call me by my real name when she's near."

The mention of his mother made Scabior rein himself in and not proceed to work Hermione up for morning sex.

She must have seen his face flinch, because she frowned and asked, "Scabior?"

He calmed himself down by bringing one hand down to her neck and caressing the lovebite that marked her as his.

"Come with me outside, beautiful. I need to get out of the house now, and I'm not in any pain. I need to...get something off my mind."

At that, the look of insecurity returned to Hermione and Scabior cursed himself at his poor choice of words that had alarmed her.

"Believe me, my treasure, it's got nothing to do with you. I need to tell you something about my mother," he added quickly and apologized by pressing his mouth to the red skin where his fingers had played. He could sense she relaxed and felt her pulse beat steadily against his lips.

"Fine. But then you have to let me up, snatcher," she moaned.

Scabior chuckled at her and lifted the head to gaze straight into her eyes, a wolf's grin grazing his lips.

"Only if I can lay you down later, love."

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