Scabior awoke to the sounds of the girl retching. He gingerly threw his legs over the side of his bed and sat up, willing his hangover to stop. As soon as she'd passed out and he'd gotten her sorted on the couch for however long she was out, he had started in with some firewhisky. It'd been too long since he'd had a real drink.

Getting up, he padded over the door to the loo. He raised the back of his hand to knock but thought the better of it and ambled into the kitchenette.

The little chit would probably be hungry. He was hungry.

Realizing of course he had nothing edible as he'd been gone for months he walked back towards his bedroom. Scabior grabbed his clothes from the floor and started easing himself into them. He muttered his favorite wand-less spell, "Capitis finis", and he found almost all at once the familiar relief of his headache beginning to recede.

When he was dressed he crossed back to the bathroom door and knocked.

"I'm headed out. Get a few things an' be righ' back."

He heard nothing, then a snuffling noise and a weak, "Fine."

She sounded angry. No matter.

Hermione sat back from the toilet on the bathroom floor. She knew why she was sick, of course, but had absolutely no idea how horribly wretched she would feel. It seemed as though all manner of pregnancy symptoms had hit her at once. Perhaps she'd simply been denying it for so long her body took over and forced her to confront the situation. Exhausted, her body ached and she yearned for the kind of comfort she would never find in this man.

'He won't release me from this…'

As she contemplated the inevitable conclusion of her pregnancy, her nausea slowly subsided and she instead began to cry.

'It's just hormones', she told herself, but it wasn't only that. So much had changed in such an incredibly short period of time.

'it's alright, you will find a way…'

The sobs grew in urgency and intensity until she was doubled over on the floor of the bathroom. She curled into herself and cried and cried…

Scabior let himself back into the flat; careful to make sure she wasn't waiting behind the door to crack him over the head with something. He had a wand and she didn't, so it seemed like good odds to him.

He half expected her to be waiting for him with a knife in hand in his kitchen. She was nowhere. He gingerly set his bags of purchases down on the kitchen counter and turned around.

Scabior drew his wand.

Slowly, quietly, he began to make his way down the corridor to the bathroom.

"Anyone home?," he called out, his voice teasingly saccharine.

Scabior was greeted with snuffling sounds coming from the bathroom.

"Are you finished in there?," he asked while knocking on the door.

The snuffling noises subsided. "Yes. I'll be out in a moment."

Satisfied, he moved into the kitchen and started putting away the groceries he had purchased. He set out four eggs, and some bread.

As he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing fried eggs and toast he heard the bathroom door creak open and her slowly move into the kitchen.

"Merlin, what happened to you?", he started, looking up into her vacant face. She looked terrible. Her eyes were drawn and it looked like there were purple circles underneath.

Her mouth set in a scowl.

"Still angry with me, eh?"

She didn't say anything but moved closer to the chairs and table in the kitchen area. Nothing fancy, two plain wooden chairs and a modest square table.

He gestured to his pan. "Almost done."

She turned away from him and really studied the flat. Everything was filthy, of course, the bathroom being the worst, but a layer of dust hung over most of the living area as well. She was famished but also afraid of eating anything from his utensils. She dragged her index finger over the table and saw dust caking her finger.

"Yeh, I know. 's been awhile since I been 'ere. But I cleaned some while you were out cold."

Scabior put the eggs and toast on two plates and walked over to the table. Hermione eyed the plate which did look surprisingly clean and then the man who held the food.

"'s not poison."

She took the plate and he motioned to one of the chairs. She sat and he returned to the kitchen to grab two forks and some butter and moved back to the dining set, sitting in the chair opposite her.

"Eat up. You need it. You're too thin, especially as you're eatin' for two."

Hermione looked up and at him. He stopped as he saw the hatred permeate her gaze.

"Fine."

"So you can speak."

Hermione turned away again but did start eating her eggs and toast. Scabior got up and moved to the kitchen where he poured two glasses of water and returned.

Hermione picked up the glass and downed the entire contents in one long drink. He sat, watching her, unblinking for a moment. Then, Scabior stood and refilled her glass at the sink before sitting down with her again.

By the time he had returned, she had finished her meal completely.

"That's better," he said, gesturing to the empty plate. He finished his eggs as well. "Now, we need to have a conversation at some point, I reckon."

Hermione abruptly stood, incensed. "We do not need to have a conversation, I need to have a conversation…with a witch or wizard who is capable of terminating a pregnancy, you lewd, entitled, ridiculous, vile man!"

Scabior stood slowly, too slowly for her liking and looked her up and down before choosing his words carefully.

"You'll be doing nothing of the sort."

Something about the way he said it shot an icy pang of danger down her spine. She hated how calculated he was. He never seemed to lose control of himself, and somehow seemed all the more dangerous for it.

He took a step closer to her and she backed up, into the divider between the kitchen and dining area. She softened her tone.

"Why…why do you want me to have this baby?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Realizing he was unconsciously intimidating her, he took a step back and walked into the living room. He was not a man who got what he wanted by using brute force. He did things differently.

"If you must know, I 'ent got no heirs. I'd like to pass on what's mine."

Hermione laughed as she looked around. "What's yours?," she asked, gesturing with her hands; mocking him.

His face changed then. His mouth set in a hard line and his hands clenched at his sides. Hermione's breath caught in her chest and she decided then and there she would not push this man any more today.

"I've got more than this flat."

He stepped back towards her, slowly, menacingly.

"I've been good to you. I brought you books. I took my time with you. I'll be good to this too," he said before reaching his hand out to touch her belly.

Surprised, she gasped and shivered away from his touch.

He took another step towards her as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. She was afraid of him. Especially when he was like this.

He leaned into her ear, so close that she could feel his hot breath tickle the baby-fine hairs she had there.

"Now, if you'd prefer to see me at my worst…I'm sure that can be arranged."