Hello, readers! Thank you for the last interesting and many reviews you sent me! They are my treaures and motivation. Great things will happen next in this fic. And what about Scabior and Hermione? Well, you just have to read because I'm not giving you any spoilers, lol! Give me reviews and I'll give you chapters (I love a good bargain). See you at the bottom!
Inspirational music: Angel by Broken Door
Chap. 33 Bondings
As soon as they returned to the wards around the cottage Hermione grabbed Scabior by the collar and pulled him down for another eager kiss. Surprised but pleased with her enthusiasm, Scabior nibbled at her lips and breathed out, "Why do I get the feeling you're up for some make-up sex?"
Hermione answered by clutching the sides of his leather coat and dragging him through the protecting shields. Scabior admitted he was pretty randy at the moment but the fusion of lust and Firewhiskey in his blood, combined with the odd shiver in the air as he stumbled through the wards made him hard as steel. Her hands were currently unbuttoning his green jacket all the way and revealed more heated skin to the nippy night.
When the couple reached the frontdoor, Scabior stretched out his arm above Hermione's shoulder to open it for her but she nudged her head against the arm and sent it to the side. Scabior stopped and glared down at her. He caught look of a gleam in her eye, though before he could determine if it was remnants of a tear or a desirous glaze, she used what strength she had and switched their position so his back was pressed against the old wooden door.
Her hands greedily roamed his naked chest and hips and Scabior had a hard time understanding what had happened seconds ago, never mind pushing her away so he could think. When her mouth encountered his cold nipple and engulfed it with wet warmth, he jerked his head back and emitted a raspy groan.
He gently pushed her away from him and held her by the shoulders. She had never taken charge like this or dominated him and the fact that he enjoyed it was beside the point. He wanted to know why she acted this way and whether she was still angry with him.
"Shit, beautiful, easy there. We can slow this down. Keep your mouth and hands in check and give me a chance to open the door."
"Why?"
Her face looked innocent but a tug at the corner of her mouth revealed her amusement.
"So I can lay you down on our bed and love you for the rest of the night, of course," he sighed almost deliriously and smelt her on himself. Distantly he heard her mumbling something and he cocked his head to the side as he asked, "Sorry, what was that, love?"
"I said I want you to fuck me here."
His mouth went dry, his eyes dilated and all blood left his brain and surged to his crotch. She had never before used such words when they slept together but her fearless expression made him seriously question his own memory.
"What...what d'ya mean?"
He needed affirmation to make sure it was not an imagination from his slightly intoxicated mind.
"Fuck me. Here. Now," she repeated slowly and started to follow the visible veins on the back of his hands which still held her shoulders.
"Is this some sort of late reaction from our fight? I'm not complaining but are you sure what you're asking for, Hermione?"
Her answer was unbuttoning her cardigan and dropping it to the ground.
"I want to breathe in the open-air and be warmed by your cock. We've done it outside before, my love. I want you to fuck me hard so I will be able to feel you've been inside me when tomorrow comes. Please do it, Scabior."
Her fingers returned to the pink, large dress and fiddled with the fabric on her hip. Scabior's gaze was glued on the vision in front of him but he had to close his eyes from the beauty when he saw the knickers fall down her legs and she stepped out of them. She would be the death of him, again.
"Fine! Ya've won, woman! I'll fuck ya...with love, okay?" He opened his eyes but she was gone.
Before he had time to react, he heard her snicker to the right. Relief washed away the fear and he stepped closer to her as she stood leaning against the wall of the house. He grabbed her hip and squeezed it reproachfully.
"Aren't you a funny bird? he cooed but his eyes conveyed only burning intensity and promises. Hermione sobered up and reached up to help him take off the now much too warm coat from his broad shoulders. Scabior bowed down and with his teeth he made each strap fall down to her elbows which left her half-naked to him. A spring night's faint light illuminated her smooth skin and his interest peaked when she reached behind to remove her bra.
The nipples hardened quickly upon the exposure to the chilly night.
"So beautiful," Scabior mumbled and placed his thumb over one red nipple and began to massage it in slow circles. Hermione moaned weakly and arched her back. He was compelled to tend to the other neglected breast when Hermione writhed and shook her head.
"I can't wait. I need it, Scabior. I want you."
Her hips bucked into his groin and Scabior felt himself grow hotter by the second. Almost automatically his hands dropped to his belt and unbuckled it swiftly. He was close to unable to form a coherent thought because his cock pulsed with desire and readiness to thrust into the woman before him. After unbuttoning his pants he simply yanked them down to his knees, knowing that the tightness of the fabric would keep them there and that it would be a turn-off for both of them to have him struggle to take the pants off.
Hermione looked down at him and tenderly stroked his length with cool hands, nearly bringing him to the edge immediately. "Ughh, Hermione, love," he groaned and bunched up her dress to reveal her as well.
"Such a bloody wet and sweet pussy waiting for me." Beyond being able to resist the temptation, he swept on hand over her curls and dipped a finger deftly between the folds. Hermione closed her eyes, rolled her hips and clenched the hand holding him.
Scabior tensed his jaw and growled, "Careful, woman! Wouldn't want me to come until I'm deep inside you, now would we?"
He lifted his coated hand to the mouth and devoured her essence of salt and sweet while Hermione now excruciatingly tediously caressed his damp head with her thumb.
"Scabior, please. Fuck me now," she said with a purely serious expression on her face and Scabior's every fibre longed to obey her. Quite purposefully, he secured the skirt of the dress on her hip with one fist and splayed the other on her bare bottom.
"Contraception spell?" he asked warily but she smirked.
"I cast it on me before we left for the pub."
Pleased with her, he closed the small distance between their bodies and whispered to her ear like he knew she loved, "Lift your legs. I've got you."
Trusting arms wrapped around his neck and taut nipples pressed into his chest. The next moment he carried her weight and saw to catch a thigh and help it rest on his hip. The intimate embrace was new for Hermione but she seemed to adjust quickly and breathed evenly into his mouth.
"Good girl."
Scabior's hand had made its way down between their bellies until he finally found his proud cock. By leaning Hermione against the wall, he was able to relieve himself of some weight in order to bend his knees and position himself at her opening. He looked up into her misty eyes, her forehead frowning in lustful anticipation and her blood-filled lips, before he moved into her inch by inch until he stood upright, impaling her with his whole length.
Her breath hitched and she bit down on his neck as she tightened her thighs. Scabior felt himself being buried deeper than ever in her velvet tightness; simple gravity making it possible for her pelvis to easily touch his. But he felt another thing too.
Morgana knew he was ready to thrust away and all sensations were concentrated on his hidden part, and yet he sensed he would not fuck Hermione. Sure, he would give her what she asked for; mad, wild sex up against the wall of his mother's cottage.
But some native instinct told him that he was professing his love for her at this very moment.
Each thrust would be a seal on his honest declaration and hers, a promise that he would never leave her, would never stop loving or treasuring her. This was not the snatcher speaking, only the man inside.
When he began to move he truly gave her his entire heart. His act was not judicial as a wedding, nor was it binding like an Unbreakable Vow or life-changing like a Hogwarts letter. But it was irrevocably a frail bridge between good and evil; hanging above the chasm of consuming nothingness. Scabior built it, connected it to Hermione, stepped onto it, marched forward determinedly and did not look back. He even let go of the railing.
A particular deep thrust accurately angled brought his whole focus back to the present and he heard her cry out ecstatically and she hugged him with every muscle available.
"Scabior! Oh, so good! Don't stop! Merlin, don't stop."
"Look down at us," he gasped. She tipped her head forward and Scabior steadied himself as he separated their humid abdomens from each other and allowed her to see his glistening arousal slid in and out in an everlasting rhythm. She moaned and he dug his fingers into her hip and let out a ragged hiss,
"Do you feel it? How hard I am for you? How deep you permit me to ram in your sodden pussy? Feel the coldness on your shoulders."
He pushed upwards and met her gyrating her hips, eager to take all the pleasure she could get from him.
"But that's it, right? 'cause together we've chased away the cold. We're warming each other and creating our own burning warmth."
She locked her ankles against his cheeks and forced him to move faster inside her.
"Look at me, love."
She lifted her head and opened her eyes to him and he caught sight of gleaming tears. "I love you, Hermione. We're together and we love each other. I'm very okay with that."
She was close but then, so was he. Although, trembling lips and tears streaming down her face were not usual.
"Why are you...mnnn...saying these things? Why are you looking at me like that?" she blurted out in a half-sob and Scabior gave her a heated kiss before he liked away her tears. He understood if she felt confused or even scared by the intensity, for he had once experienced that too.
"I'm doin' this because I love ya, because ya're carryin' my 'eart an' because ya're now the most important person in my life. That's all, beautiful. Nothin' ta be frightened of. Now come fer me, sweet love. Let me fell ya tight around me."
On strained legs with his body poised and a tickling burn in his balls; he tilted her hips to the proper position and drove himself all the way into her and knew with triumph he had hit her spot. Her face became contorted as her back bumped against the wall, her mouth slack in pure rapture, round breasts moulded into his torso when she arched her back and her hair spilled over her drenched collarbones and got soaked at the ends. Her legs held him in a vicelike grip and her sex jolted, cramped and clenched around him until he no longer could keep his control intact. Salazar, the power she wielded over him!
With a roar to the black sky he burst to the last quakes of her climax and she whispered in complete surrender to him, "I love you. I love you so much. I'm sorry. So very sorry."
After some more erratic thrusts he stilled and panted in the crook of her neck and could only detect her scent. Order was restored in the universe.
"No, beautiful. You never apologize, remember. And let's forget the silly fight and everything else but us. I won't be parted from you for the rest of the night."
She did not persist. Instead she carefully untangled her legs and he lowered her gently to the ground, feeling how his softening and spent member slid out from her only to meet a brutal onslaught of freezing air. Instinctively thinking about Hermione's almost naked body, he pulled her close to keep it warm as he pulled up his pants and tucked himself in.
"Come on, let's get inside. Don't you know a piece of fabric around your waist is far from enough clothing when you're outside at night?" he murmured with a grin and he heard her snicker a little before he picked up her cardigan from the ground and promptly walked with her to the door and nudged her inside.
Hermione had feigned sleep for the last few hours, never falling for the temptation of closing her eyes and keep them closed for longer than a blink. She had stayed in the same position on Scabior's bed since he fell asleep, rightly exhausted by the long day of cleaning, arguing and at last satisfying sex. She too felt tired but she relished the delicious soreness in her neither region.
She glanced to the side without moving her head to not rouse Scabior. The dawn was approaching and the seagulls were already crowding the blue sky which could be seen from the clean window. It would be a beautiful day. But all she had had was the night.
She felt disgusted with herself.
Despite her love for Scabior she had taken and taken selfishly from him. She took his trust, his love, his faith, his deep thrusts; all for her own sake. She had used his lust to ensure he would pound into her so she could remember the feeling of him inside her all this day and perhaps the next. She had lied to him and tricked him into believing he would follow her on her journey.
When he had admitted his love for her she had been astonished but truly happy for a blessed moment. Then reality crushed her dream. How would he be able to love her when he found out what she had done?
Nevertheless, she would carry his heart as he had said; hide it well inside her soul and feed it with her own love if only to comfort herself. She had waited too long. It was time.
As carefully as she could manage, she lifted away Scabior's arm which had been draped across her stomach and inched away from the sleeping man until she no longer touched him. It felt awful.
She knew she had to proceed with caution so to not wake him up. The bitter whiskey she had smelt and tasted on his tongue last night should keep him asleep for longer than usual. But who dared to hazard her important task?
She looked around in the dim room that was so familiar now and spotted her wand on top of the pink dress she had worn yesterday for him. She picked it up and with a convenient spell all her old clothes and shoes were suddenly soaring through the air and covered her naked body in mere seconds. It would have been a minor challenge to get dressed the muggle way when every garment rustled.
Feeling less vulnerable, Hermione squared her shoulders and reached into one pocket in her jeans. She found what she searched for; a pre-written note to Scabior. He would never have looked there as she always wore something else. With quivering lips she recalled her words perfectly: Scabior, I know you'll be angry when you read this. But I wrote this note so you wouldn't think I've been kidnapped by Death Eaters. I can't tell you where I'm going or what I plan to do. But I just wanted to let you know that I'll be alright, after all I have been so far. I'm sorry for betraying your trust but I had to make sure you wouldn't keep me from going yesterday. Apart from that, my love for you is still true. Don't go looking for me; you are threatened by both sides in this war. Stay in Ireland and keep your mother and yourself safe for the rest of the war, whatever the outcome might be. That's the best way you can help me in. Love, Hermione.
She looked at the peaceful figure on the bed. It itched in her fingers to touch him one last time and savour yet another memory of him. But it was too dangerous now when dawn was so near. She put the note on the small night table and removed Scabior's wand from the surface, as she needed to render him helpless for some time. She placed it between the narrow space of a Slytherin banner and the wall, making sure the wand was visible so Scabior could find it later.
One last glance at his intriguing face and the wild hair with the red streak was all she could allow herself before she raised her wand at him and cast a non-verbal and simpler Incarcerous and watched how ropes sprang from the tip and attached themselves to the four legs of the bed. Then they winded like snakes around Scabior's ankles and wrists but not tight and not stretching his limbs.
The ropes would keep him from escaping immediately and they would not harm him in the meantime. Still, Hermione could not phantom what his reaction would be when he woke up. Perhaps those bad memories from Azkaban would return and he probably would hate her for doing this to him. She hated herself for doing it. That was why she had apologized to him last night, only he did not understand what she truly meant by it.
Not able to stand seeing him oblivious of his captivity, she turned around and opened the door as stealthily as possible. Once outside she closed the door and breathed out. A few drops left her eyes and fell down onto the floor. She could no longer smell his scent of apples and widerness except for some faint traces on her own body.
Up until now she had managed to control her emotions but now she was hit by the memory of when she obliviated her parents. The dreadful feeling was the same. She would walk out of the house determinedly and once again give the impression that nothing was wrong. Only on the caring inside, she bled of sorrow and was tortured by every step she took which led her farther away from the ones she loved.
She missed Scabior already, like a swan missed a deceased partner.
She took an aching breath, hugged herself to get rid of that terrible cold which once again assaulted her, and walked away. The blue sky was irrelevant, as were the screaming seagulls. She did not trip as she moved across the field; she had just become used to the labyrinth of treacherous stones on the ground.
She marched briskly and stepped through the protecting wards. That was when she pulled out her wand and held it ready. Nothing but herself protected her now.
Whaaat? What happened here? Did you expect Scabior would not follow Hermione or did I tricked you just like I did in chap. 21? Tell me your thoughts with a long or a short review, please. So long!