Thanks again, everyone. Brightens my day to see those reviews and faves and alerts.

This is the conclusion to this quick affair. In a way. You'll see what I mean.

Riley's eyes refused to cooperate. She didn't want to open them and yet she found herself staring at canvas. She heard birds outside, chirping. That there was even light in the tent meant it was morning, at least. Had she slept through the evening and the entire night? Really?

Her stomach growled in reply. Not that it had been full in days, but it'd been a while since those apples.

She shifted, hissing at the pain that shot through her lower region. Memories of the previous day came back to her and she looked around the tent to find Scabior absent. A part of her wanted him back, wanted his lips dominating hers, their hips grinding…

"It was a bloody business arrangement. Shut up." She whispered to herself, taking the heel of her hand to her forehead a few times, as if it would help.

She had missed a bed. Missed blankets. Missed being in a tent. She didn't want to get out of the bed, even if it belonged to a Snatcher. It was warm.

She was facing the rest of the tent, and she could clearly see the front flap, fastened shut. Her clothes had been picked up, folded, and placed on the table that was previously home to maps and lists and flyers. It looked as though Scabior had cleaned up slightly, as if getting ready to move camp.

Clenching her teeth, she got up and made her way towards the pile of clothing. They had once been caked with sweat and dirt; she was staring at clothes spelled clean. She threw on her undergarments, and slide into her jeans first, getting the increase in pain over and done with.

She was slipping her long sleeve shirt over head as she heard the canvas unfasten. Turning, she saw a leg donned in plaid stepped inside, followed by a whole body. The Snatcher leader was holding a mug of tea and a plate of food; home-made hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, bacon (a commodity among those living in the woods, since it was hard to keep fresh even with magic after a while). He placed them on the table, and put two small bottles beside the tea.

He turned to face her, finding her mid-movement, her shirt being held just under her bust.

"And she returns from the dead." He murmured, smirking as he closed the space between them. "Surely I didn't tire you out that much, beautiful?"

"No, but it contributed. I forgot how nice having a tent actually is, after sleeping in a hollow-out log." She replied, pulling her shirt down all the way. The tiny pout that crossed his face did not go unnoticed. "What time is it?"

He pulled out a small silver watch from his pants pocket. "Seven-oh-nine in the AM. The men are still asleep, lazy arses…"

She nodded, giving a weak smile as a thanks. Scabior held her forearms, peering down at her with a puzzled expression for a brief moment before capturing her lips harshly. He broke away, still holding onto her arms.

"Eat up, it's a rare time I bother to make anythin' myself. There's a mornin'-after potion and a potion to relieve any pain you might be havin'."

Riley gave him an odd look. "Thanks."

The snarky, confident girl from yesterday was gone, replaced with a quiet, pensive one. Not that he minded, since silence was something he enjoyed-it meant no back-talking, no questioning his authority. But from her it created a slightly awkward atmosphere. The kind that came from having a one-night stand and then not making it out in time and being there when the other woke up.

He was a Snatcher. It was his job to bring people like her, and Muggleborns, in for ransoms. His acts of kindness made her suspicious, but her hunger was winning out.

Scabior nodded, letting go of her arms to put his hands back in his coat pockets. He turned to head back outside, but turned on his heel just before he left. "Why didn't you jus' Dissapparate? Why stay in the woods with no supplies?"

"It's not like I had the means to get supplies, either. Stealing's not my forte; I was the one to go and glimpse at prices, plan out what we needed and where we would head according to rumors I heard."

"Information's jus' as good as gold these days, love."

"Well, I don't have any to give. I was hoping to stumble onto someone from my camp or run into a bunch of Muggles kind enough to take on another for a brief time."

He left, leaving her to eat alone. Which was fine with her, because it spared her the embarrassment of nabbing the potions and hastily swallowing them. It also saved her from seeing him go through an ego-trip over the fact that she was still sore. The pain ebbed away, and she found herself nibbling away at the plate of food and sipping the tea. If she ate too much, she'd simply get sick from not having eaten much lately. It wasn't great; she didn't expect the leader of a band of Snatchers to be able to really cook, but it was better than what she'd been having. She hardly cared that she had no utensils; food was food.

A part of her felt ashamed, using her body to gain a one-time pass from being handed over to the Ministry. They didn't know each other, and yet they knew each other very intimately. That wasn't to say she didn't like it, because she did. At least her first time had been with a guy who knew what he was doing. The part that wasn't busy feeling ashamed was back to wanting Scabior.

Riley, having finished her plate and not quite wanting to stay in the tent, peered out of the canvas with the plate in hand. Scabior was rummaging through the sacks of food, charmed to hold more than they appeared to, and making a list. Inventory.

"Jus' leave it over there on the pile." He waved a hand in the general direction of the fire; a stack of plates, sill dirty from dinner, was waiting to be spelled clean.

She knew that had there not been barriers up, some woodland animal would have come along and pillaged the camp.

He walked over to her, a small bag in hand. He slung it around her so it hung across her body. "That's about a week's worth o' food, maybe more if you ration it righ'. There's a small bag of gold-when I say small, I mean you 'ave just enough to buy a tiny tent an' cot."

"All because I slept with you?" She seemed skeptical. "I don't understand. You feed me, give me provisions. You could have tossed me out of your tent and left me."

"That was the bargain. Sex for your scarf an' freedom. Granted, I guess it's more virginity for your scarf an' freedom but I'm a man o' my word. You can't very well be free if you 'ave no food an' shelter. 'nd I won't put a woman through the burden of 'avin' a child I won't be around for. Blood traitor or not, you don't deserve that."

She got the feeling he spoke on a level of personal experience with that last statement. It wasn't her place to ask.

He pulled out the scarf from his pocket, the material having lost her scent and replaced with leather and campfire and cigarettes. He tied it around her neck, tugging at the knot so it hung away from her neck. He still held onto the material as he pulled her closer.

"You won' get off so easy the next time we meet, little Riley." His eyes were half-lidded, staring down at her with the intensity of a predator cornering its prey.

"Well then, may we never see each other again." It was supposed to be an attempt at the cheek she had the previous day, but it seemed half-hearted. As if she didn't really want to leave.

"If you can stay away, beautiful."

He stooped down to kiss her, tangling one hand into her hair, holding her to him. His tongue met with hers, and the taste of tobacco was mixed with coffee this time. His other hand slipped her wand from his jacket, pressing it into her hand. He broke off, and pointed her away from the camp.

She walked off, not looking behind her. Because there were more words that he left unsaid with that last statement. Words they both knew to be true.

Because I don't think you can.

I couldn't exactly figure out how to end it, so I went with this. It concludes this short little story, but leaves it open enough where I can write something else if I so wish to.

Well, thanks for reading. :]