Author's Note: Sorry for the like two-year delay on this? I've had about half the file ready on a flash drive, but no time to finish it. Anyway, here is the next part.
I really appreciate all the support on this story and hope to never disappoint you in the future. 10 points to those who can tell me where the chapter title comes from, as I feel it accurately describes the character. This will probably be the last chapter from Scabior's point of view for a while, as it will go back to Hermione's feelings.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the title of the story, or the title of the chapter.
Jar of Hearts
Chapter Four: 'Just Call Me Lucifer'
Scabior
Scabior's "to-do" list grew longer as he took a long and thoughtful drag on his almost-spent fag.
First, he needed to avoid the landlady until he could pay her what was proper owed. He had to conserve enough to eat and smoke on.
Second, Scabior needed to go to the Devil's office for a little chat both about the contract and about vocation.
Third, he needed to learn more about his quarry.
Fourth, Scabior had to figure out how best to entice her. She was not going to be easy in any sense of the word. He was going to have to pull out all stops to have a chance.
Most mornings it only consisted of circumvent the landlady and find a way to occupy his time in a manner he approved of.
He dropped the ashes onto an old tea saucer nearby, stubbing out the end of the fag quickly before he shrugged into his signature worn leather coat and discolored scarf.
The back stairwell would be the fastest way of avoiding the other tenants as well as the owner, Scabior processed as he locked his beaten door behind him. The hall light was malfunctioning again, blinking on and off at a steady rhythm.
Scabior ignored it as he gripped the cold metal of the handrail and began his descent. He could hear the usual shouting of the flat just below him mixing with the sounds of daytime television. He thought he could hear rough sex in another flat. He smirked.
Ah, the engaging sounds of life continuing at its normal pace. He didn't actually know any of his neighbors personally. It was best that way.
The back door had once had a lock, until one of the tenants busted it one night. Scabior merely had to lean on the door to get it open as he embraced the familiar city air, tumbling out into the late morning.
He didn't find it too coincidental that the girl happened to attend the same college the Devil helped oversee. In fact, if he recalled correctly all of his other victims had been attending this university. It was convenient that way.
It was quite a walk to the university from his flat, but he wanted to avoid public transportation. All that enclosed space with nattering strangers? No thanks. He couldn't be buggered with it.
Instead it would be just a nice walk through the surrounding neighborhood. Good exercise and all that health rubbish. He hunched his shoulders as he pushed his hands further into his deep pockets, grubby fingernails touching the seams.
The Devil wouldn't mind if he dropped in. In fact, he usually checked up on Scabior every so often, just like any good businessman. This was quite an investment of his time after all.
To the dismay of many onlookers, Scabior swaggered right through one of the main gates. While the university had to allow students from certain social backgrounds, they were still looked down upon.
Good thing I'm not a student then, he thought as he headed toward the Devil's office, or else I would have to teach them a lesson about social backgrounds. He ignored all glances or comments coming his way.
In administration, Scabior was a regular sight. The older, gray-haired woman at the desk simply waved him through as she chewed the fat to someone on a private call. Scabior wasn't sure if she was a new receptionist or the same one. What did it matter? They all looked alike.
Scabior glanced briefly at the engraved gold nameplate on the door, bearing the name Lucius Malfoy, before he barged in.
The Devil was also in the middle of a phone call, gesturing to Scabior to take a seat on one of the polished, burgundy leather chairs. Scabior preferred standing. He busied himself with walking around the office, touching various baubles placed there to make the space look normal.
"Yes, I will see you and Draco later darling," the Devil cooed to presumably his wife, before setting the phone gently in the cradle. It was difficult to think of the Devil as a family man for a second. Scabior only knew him as his contract holder and task manager. He supposed the Devil needed some type of cover to continue his work on earth.
The Devil was a handsome bloke though, Scabior supposed, with his long, pale blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He certainly had a commanding presence in a room.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" the Devil asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Well, I finally found her," Scabior told him.
"Excellent. Which one is she again?" Scabior knew the Devil probably knew what girl was left. He needed confirmation aloud though
"Intelligence."
"Ah, the last ingredient. Where is she?"
"On this campus."
"Even better. Her name?"
"Don't know that yet, sir."
"Easy enough to find out. I believe my son knows someone who might fit the description. Give me just a moment." The Devil dialed out on the phone again. Scabior noted the cherry red color was quite fitting for the Devil's actual occupation.
"Yes, Draco, I'm in need of something. Can you stop by my office for a quick chat? I need to know about one of your classmates." Scabior figured he would smoke as he waited, retrieving his pack from the tight confines of his pocket. "I won't tolerate that," the Devil told him austerely.
"Won't tolerate what?" Scabior asked, "I was only gonna have a quick fag."
"Not in my office you won't. I have to entertain all sorts of campus dignitaries here and I won't have it smelling like a pub."
"Fine then, I'll take me business outside for a few minutes," Scabior complied. The cigarettes kept him calm, especially when he was so excited in getting a step closer to his prey.
X
Draco Malfoy
Draco excused himself from his small circle of friends to attend to his father's request. Generally, what his father wanted, he got.
Draco suspected what his father actually did for a living, besides managing trivial University affairs. His father's work always seemed to increase around end of term, when students were so busy they would "Sell their soul for this term paper to be finished."
Your father being the infamous Devil would be hard to ignore. He would have to be as thick as Crabbe or Goyle not to notice the peculiarities that surrounded his so-called father figure.
He wasn't sure how DNA worked, or exactly how he and his father were related. Or more likely, how to use his father's power to his advantage. He hardly noticed the familiar walk over to his father's office, save for one thing.
Draco did notice Hermione Granger, laden with books as usual, headed towards the library. Most likely to figure out how to upstage us in class next time I presume, Draco thought acrimoniously.
"Yes father?" he asked, sticking his blond head around the door. There was one of his father's usual characters, Scabior something or another, sitting in one of the armchairs.
Draco really didn't want to sit down next to him. Though Draco was used to the sight of less-than-honorable people in his father's office, something about Scabior set his on edge. There was something horribly wrong with his eyes… He opted to stand beside his father's desk instead.
"Ah Draco, there you are. We were just discussing one of your little classmates. A very intelligent girl, as I recall?"
"You must mean know-it-all Granger."
"Yes, H-something, isn't it?"
"Hermione, like the character from that Shakespeare play The Winter's Tale." His literature class had just finished a section on the famous playwright, the material still fresh in his mind.
"And the know-it-all title?"
"Courtesy of our Chemistry professor, Severus Snape." He knew his father would know Snape well, as the dark clothed, sour man sometimes had dinner at their home. He was, by far, Draco's favourite professor, especially with his personal nickname for grade-grubbing Granger as 'Insufferable know-it-all.'
"Mm, dear Severus," his father smiled. Draco wasn't sure but he thought he glanced more than just blasé familiarity in his father's brief expression. He tried to ignore it. "You have been most helpful Draco." Draco knew a dismissal when he heard one.
"Wait, I know where Granger's headed this afternoon."
"Oh really?" His father raised an eyebrow, a sign of irritation.
"Yes. She's headed to the library, because she has almost no friends, save the horrid Weasley clan that has infiltrated and famous Potter."
"Oh yes, Potter. The school's current celebrity, because he was in that tragic murder sometime ago wasn't he?"
Draco knew his father was just putting on a show for his guest. He knew damn well Potter's story, as Draco suspected his father had some hand in it. Their guest was wisely silent. "Thank you Draco. You have been most helpful again. I don't want to keep you from your friends."
"Of course." His father told him that they would see each other at home later, as Draco excused himself from the office.
Usually, Draco did not mind his family name typically being associated with evil. However, as he headed back to the company of his friends, Draco got the most awful feeling about the involvement of the Granger girl with scary-eyes Scabior.
X
Scabior
"Well then, I suppose it would be easiest to find you a job somewhere on campus," the Devil told him, grabbing for the red phone again.
"Not necessary sir," Scabior began, not wanting to conform to the less than stellar world of academia. "I'll do it my way."
"Yes, need I remind you that your way has taken years? This is will be a steady job with steady income, so that you can fix yourself up to woo her."
"Fix myself up?" Scabior rose from his chair and the Devil realized he might have made a mistake.
"Perhaps I went too far then? Maybe a new scarf or something?"
"Maybe then. Where would this job be?" Scabior asked, considering the money. He did need it, if only to keep the landlady from asking too many questions.
"Since she seems to spend plenty of time in the library, maybe a job there? Madam Pince always needs assistants." Scabior laughed for close to ten minutes before he realized the Devil was serious.
"Me, in a library? You're barking, you are," Scabior told him.
"You haven't met Madam Pince yet."
"Fine, I'll give it a try," Scabior shrugged. "But if it doesn't work, then I'll do it my way."
"Fair enough. I would say we have a deal, but we already have one, don't we?" The Devil made another phone call and provided Scabior with directions to the library.
"Just be your charming self. Madam Pince isn't picky. And if she is, I'll grease the wheels."
"Your money." Scabior smoked on his way to the library, deliberately wasting time. He figured the Devil had already called the librarian again, to give her some incentive to hire him. He wasn't worried.
When he finally made it into the woman's office, he realized why the Devil had not been kidding about her being desperate. She was probably older than God and twice as mean. Luckily, Scabior was heartless, or her attitude would sting.
"You're hired," she told him grudgingly. "Come back in the morning and I'll show you how things work."
"Fair enough," he shrugged as he headed outside. It was time for another fag, to celebrate this time. He stood off to the shadows, but didn't have time to light up when fate threw Hermione his way again. The kid hanging on her was easy enough to get rid of this time, but Scabior wondered if he was going to have to 'convince' his competition to leave her alone.
During his and Hermione's exchange, he noted that she was careful but not completely closed off. She did give him her name, for a start. Good thing this wasn't a fairy tale or he would have some power over her already. Or perhaps she was the one with the power.
Her heady perfume dragged him in. Up close, she smelled twice as wonderful without the pub atmosphere this time. Moreover, her hair! He knew how difficult natural waves could be to discipline, his own hair loosely bound but never completely tamed. He had not been able to control his wayward fingers as they stroked a curled tendril.
He knew, somewhere inside of his empty cavern, that she would show up at the library the next day. As much as she was repelled, she was also curious. They always were.
X