Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off of this.
Warnings: This story includes Abuse, Adult Content, Blood, Humiliation, and Rape. Warnings are subject to change.
All grammatical mistakes and such are my own.
I can't picture ANY Scabmione story with AT LEAST one rape scene..so please...endure.
Luscious. Heart beating fast. Beads of sweat dripping, hitting the forest ground. Fantasies of swimming in the galleons…oh yes. Scabior sat on the tree limb high up, away from view. He stared down at the vast area of seemingly empty space in the woods, just 150 feet away from him, shaking lightly, excited at the prospect of his soon fortune. Scabior tasted victory at the tip of his tongue, and oh boy, did it taste sweet. He'd been sitting up there for the past 4 hours, ever since he heard a crack and seen three teenagers appear at the campsite. He'd been the only one to hear it. Greedily and taking advantage of the situation, Scabior had told the others to go on without him; he'd wanted to search something on his own. The group had fought for awhile, calling Scabior daft and out of his ever-living mind for going on his own, but they had come to an agreement and left, for they felt as if Fenrir Greyback was far more superior at tracking down mudbloods and blood traitors and dealt with them in a better fashion than he did. Scabior just scoffed and ran off to his current hiding space, mouth watering from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Scabior had seen the 'golden trio', and they'd be all his for the taking!
He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, pulling out a few pieces of broken up leaves. He glanced down to his nails, looking down at the black dirt trapped beneath each and every one of them. His skin was stained in places with dirt and grass stains, as well. He took a deep breath in. All he could smell was the metallic sting in his nostrils…the sting of being filthy rich in reward for turning those three in, and he wouldn't even have to share the wealth! If Scabior chose, he'd never have to step foot in a forest again. He'd never be caked in dirt, or feel the harsh winter air whip against his face for months at a time. He'd get to bathe more frequently, and never have a hair be out of place again. He'd get to relish the taste of a hot mean as often as he'd like. He'd decided he'd burn the clothes he was currently wearing, so he'd never have to spare a glance at them, or be in the confines of them for a moment more.
But Scabior loved what he did. He was great at being a snatcher, that was what he was all about, and he was about to prove it to the entire wizarding world. He liked to call himself the auror of the 'dark side', if you will. Auror's tracked down all of the bad wizards and sent them to Azkaban. Snatcher's tracked down their own personal evils (and rightly so, Scabior thought) to the wizarding world, of mudbloods and blood traitor's, and sent them to the ministry to be interrogated until it was time for the dementor's kiss. Anyone was a fool to think that their filthy blood or way of life wasn't a hazard to their kind, and Scabior was more than proud to serve for the dark lord and ministry, to clear their world of all the nasties. What set Scabior apart from all the other snatcher's was that he was able to rationalize and assess the situation. He had an incredible sense of smell and could hear very well. As money hungry as he was, he had patience when it came to his job. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the look on the captor's face, and the tears that fell down their cheeks. He enjoyed every minute of them begging for their life to let them go, the sobs that wretched from their bodies, and the fear that he inflicted in their eyes. He especially loved it when he could see the fear radiating off their bodies, that it was so strong he could smell it…he could /taste/ it. He enjoyed every single second of tormenting them, where as Greyback was quick to destroy the captors.
Nightfall had reached the edge of the forest, dimming Scabior's sense of sight. He listened to the rustling of the leaves as he took a sip of firewhiskey out of the half empty bottle, reveling the feel of the burn as it slid down his throat. His fellow snatchers had used firewhiskey for recreational purposes, one of the many behaviors that gave snatchers the reputation of being very dim. Scabior used it more practically, to keep himself warm when it was below freezing out and to clean cuts and scrapes he may had endured during his mission. Of course, he enjoyed the taste, but when it was below 20 degrees outside and he was only wearing his button-up shirt, blazer, and thin plaid pants, he could hardly care for the taste.
A loud commotion erupted from the barrier's he had been spying for a lengthy time, knocking Scabior out of his current thoughts.
"Ron! Please don't leave!" A boy with flaming red hair stomped out from behind the barrier, looking an awful wreck, in Scabior's opinion, followed by another ripple in the magical ward a few seconds later by a petite female with curly golden brown hair. Scabior tensed up at the scent of salty liquid he managed to catch glistening down to girl's cheeks.
"Buggar off, Hermione. Neither one of you need me here. " The one Scabior pinpointed as Ron said in a defeated tone. " 'Sides…Harry keeps better company, don't he?" Scabior cursed under his breath. The blood traitor and the mudblood were fighting! He'd be a fool to try and attack to two outside of the barrier, while the Potter boy was still safely protected on the other side of the enchantments. He could knock down the barriers, having done it plenty of times before, but it was very draining to his energy ad magic, and he had had help from another snatcher.
"Ron!" Hermione screamed, as the redhead span on the spot. Scabior jumped from the tree limb, landing just in time to the loud CRACK! Covering the sounds his feet had made. He looked over at Hermione. She was sobbing loudly at the perimeter of the barrier, falling to her knees. 'Pathetic,' Scabior scowled mentally, towards the girl, and himself. Now he'd have to follow them until the Weasley boy came back. He could always turn the pair in, but as greedy as he was, he wanted all three. The glory and galleons he would get….yes. He'll follow them until he came back.
Finally getting a hold of herself, Hermione wiped at her eyes and stood up. She sniffled softly, turning around to head back to Harry. Scabior jumped at the opportunity, pushing himself through as the last ripple of magic slice through the air that followed the girl, and suddenly he saw the tent and long-ago blown out fire pit before it. Instantly, he casted countercharms to the protection spells and intruder alarms, jumping behind a tree. Not wanting to press his luck, he leaned against the tree and slouched down, keeping away from view. He searched through his pockets, grabbing a bottle and took another sip of firewhiskey to calm his nerves. Excitement coursed through his veins like electric, the chance to touch the two was now his. Scabior leaned over, glancing over at the tent. The shadows he had seen dance across the khaki cloth vanished at the sound a muffled incantation. The time to wait had began.
Forty-five minutes had passed before he heard a loud guttural snore and a rhythm of soft, easy breathing coming from within the tent. Scabior had reflected the scream and cries of the mudblood during his time of wait, stomach tightening as he thought how beautiful they'd sound underneath him. He shuddered at the thought, rubbing his palm against his clothed bulge, hissing in delight from the friction. It's been awhile for Scabior, and he decided he'd have his dirty way with the girl tonight. She was a mudblood, a nothing...he could do whatever he pleased with her until it was time to turn her in. He stood up, wand at the ready as he walked carefully towards the campsite. Scabior pushed the folded doors to the side and made his way in, casting 'Muffliato' in the direction of the snores. Listening carefully, he navigated his way quietly to the room he was sure the girl resided. He found the doorway to her room and entered.
At the flick of his wand, to curtains fell shut and laid immobile. He casted a silencing charm and looked for the girl's wand. He spotted it on the end table beside her and snatched it, pushing it inside his wand pocket before resting his eyes upon the girl. His cock stirred inside his pants as he took in the girl's silhouette, watching the slow rise and fell of her chest. He couldn't help the nasty grin that fell upon his features as he inched closer to her. He grabbed the tips of the blankets, about to rip them off but stopped. He leaned in, taking in the captivating scent that had made him halt. She smelled faintly of gardenia and honeysuckle with traces of lemon. He inhaled slowly, feeling slightly drunk off her scent. His smile relaxed some as he pulled back, taking her in as a whole. Even asleep, the girl looked troubled. He could appreciate the slender curve of her narrow nose, ending in a blunt tip. Her lashes were long and had a slight curve to them. Her face held innocence with just the right amount of freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. She was innocent, that much he could tell. She had never been touched, and he was delighted that he'd be the first to have her. He ached for her, his cock pressed firmly against the front of his trousers. He was going to mark her as his, but he was going to take his time with her. He wanted her to the point of begging for him to take her before he had had his fun and turned her in, betraying her in the worst possible way. He chuckled lightly, leaning back.
Hermione's eyes opened, sitting up quickly in alert as she looked at Scabior. She reached over to the desk, but cried out in fear and frustration, for she couldn't find it.
"Incarcerous." Scabior muttered, ropes flying from the tip of his wand, wrapping themselves around Hermione's wrists and legs and secured them to the bed. His cock strained against the fabric, waiting to get released as he drank in the view of her struggling against the grips of the rope before him. She looked absolutely breathtaking and delicious…and that was with her clothed. "Hello, Beautiful." He said softly, eyes running down along her body. He couldn't wait to take her clothes off and feel her beneath him. Thank you." She whispered, after a minute. Her shaking had calmed down a lot, but they were still there. A few more tears slid down her cheek, trickling down into her hair. Scabior smiled down at her, reaching across, ignoring the wince he had caused as his hand traveled across her face and reached her scalp. He smoothed back her hair and leaned it, kissing her forehead. Hermione could smell the sickening trace of firewhiskey on his breath. "Of course, beautiful." He waited until she had calmed down enough, but shoving two fingers from the hand he had rested against her hip, inside her, causing the rawest cry of pain he had ever heard. He pulled his fingers out almost all the way, then forced them back in. He could feel her insides rip as his nails dug in. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers once more as he continued thrusting his fingers deep inside of her, feeling the vibrations of her cries inside his mouth. He searched the cavity of her mouth, before moving onto her cheeks. He kissed her cheek gently, almost like a lover would, then darted out his tongue, licking at the salty fluids that emitted from her eyes. "So luscious, your tears and screams. You'll be my favorite one." He nipped at her ear as he rubbed against her leg, moaning loudly. "Yes, you'll be my favorite one." Within seconds, Hermione's body betrayed her and shuddered into his hand. He pulled his fingers from her, looking at the blood that adorned them. He brought them close to his face, as if to taste them, but instead he sniffed at them before wiping them on the sheets. Hermione whimpered, her body shaking uncontrollably. She couldn't form words if she had wanted to try. Scabior crawled up her body, his knees on either side of her face. He grabbed her head, bringing her lips to the tip of his cock. She opened her mouth, only to bare her teeth. "Aht!" He tsked and moved back an inch, pulling her hair back so she could look at him. "Don't you dare bite, or I'll turn you and Potter in to the Dark Lord right now. Be grateful that I have spared you this long without turning you and your boyfriends in." The beauty below him nodded, and he released her hair, only to shove himself inside her mouth. He pumped himself in and out, pushing himself to the back of her throat a few times until she gurgled and gagged. Between the sounds and the intense feeling of her delectable warm mouth, it didn't take long until he came in her mouth. He hurdled over for a minute, catching his breath. Beads of sweat trickled down, falling onto her face. He climbed off of her and pulled up his trousers, straightening out his clothes. Hermione laid there, quiet. Her face glistened from tears, but he knew she had long been done crying, and had more to do with the damage he had done to her throat. She took in a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling. Scabior stared down at her for a moment before leaning down, kissing her softly against her forehead. "You were perfect. I'll give you another chance." Hermione wouldn't meet his eyes, but she didn't try moving away from his touch, either. "Don't bother telling Potter…he doesn't need to added stress, now does he? " He continued and laughed lightly. "Be glad it was me who found you. My friends would've done far worse and turned you in the moment they got done with you." He leaned back, watching her. Still no reaction. Feeling safe enough, he pulled out his wand and casted a spell that cut through the ropes. Hermione brought her wrists close to herself, rubbing at them, attempting to soothe them. "Leave tomorrow morning." He bowed his head, pulling out her wand. " 'Til we meet again, pretty." He threw her wand beside him to the floor, turning out and left. He ran out to the edge of the woods, until he felt the ripple of magic. He looked back, the tent resembling a dot to him. 'Good.' He thought, casting a disillusionment charm on himself and sat down, leaning against the tree. He fell asleep within seconds, the girls face haunting his dreams. "One second, Harry." Hermione packed the last of the tent into her beaded bag. Harry nodded and handed her Slytherin's locket, then walked off to make sure they had everything. Hermione removed the pink scarf from around her neck, only to replace it with the locket. He fingered it for a moment as she walked over to the outskirts of their campsite. She looked around cautiously, looking for the man who had assaulted her the night before. She glanced back to Harry, who looked back up to her and smiled warmly, in a friendly way. She decided against casting 'homenum revelio', it would cause too much suspicion from Harry, and the man was right last night. Harry needed to focus more on finding the next horcrux and finding a way to destroy the one that lay against her chest; he didn't need any added stress. Instead, she wrapped the pink scarf around a tree, in case Ron decided to show back up and look for them. Hermione was ruined for Ron. Spoiled goods. Once he found out about her, he'd never want to touch her, or be in her presence again. She felt dirty, her insides hurt, and the more she casted 'scourgify' on herself, the more disgusting she felt. She deserved it, she thought, numbly. Harry didn't think she was doing enough, nor did Ron. She was just a waste of space. She turned around and went back to Harry, grasping his hand. Harry rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her, before he felt the familiar stretching and pulling feel. Scabior watched them from afar. He felt something hot trickling along his spine as he stood up, his body returning back to view. He glanced down at his fingernails. Her blood was caked beneath them. He smirked, making his way over to the tree Hermione had just wrapped the scarf around. He grabbed his bottle of firewhiskey, taking a sip, then put it back. He let out a satisfying 'ahh' from the burning sensation, as if someone were there for him to entertain. Scabior stood before the tree, grabbing the fringe of the scarf and tugged it sharply, making it come undone. He brought the pink fabric to his nose, relishing her scent. "I can't wait until I see you again, gorgeous." He wrapped the scarf around his neck, bringing the fringe to his nose once more. He'd give her a week, before the chase was back on. He planned on giving her just enough time to think over the night before, before he'd come after her. Maybe that Weasley boy would be back with them. Scabior smiled, looking out at the morning sun. Today, he felt was a beautiful, victorious day; even though he just let the two prized wizards slip beneath his fingers.
A/N: I have no clue what's going on with the boldness of the sentences. Anyways, I hope you all liked this! I'd like for some critique, as well as your opinions. Should I leave this as a one-shot, or should I make this a multi-chaptered story? How would you like to see Scabior? Menacing and brutal, or should he grow a soft heart? Would you guys prefer a devastating ending, or a happy one? I have so many idea's for this story, that I'd like to see what YOU all want, especially at the shortage of Scabmione stories currently floating around.
Please, drop a line! Review! I'd love to hear your thoughts :]