Fallen in Love with a Snatcher (Harry Potter Fanfic)

5

Hermione just leaned against her bed, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, listening to the billowing wind and chirping of crickets outside. She couldn't sleep. How could she? She felt guilty for giving into her desires and with a Snatcher of all people. Why hadn't she allowed Harry or Ron to do it? Why did it have to be him? 

Scabior. 

His name kept replaying in her head like some sort of melody. She could literally hear his velvet-smooth voice whispering into her ear, whispering sweet-nothings and telling her what he wanted to do with her and how she started to melt into... 

She jolted up into a sitting position. She shouldn't be feeling any of this. Especially not towards this man... this snatcher! How many lives had he taken and ruined and for what? Just to get a few coins? Hermione slapped her hands against her face before burying her face into her pillow. She silently vowed, she would forget him entirely. Pretend this day hadn't happened. Forget his name, forget his face, forget everything! Besides, Hermione thought, he probably has already forgotten about me. 

Scabior leaned up against a tree while he stared up at the stars, smoking on a cigarette that he had stolen from one of the foolish muggles, who had made the mistake of entering into their campsite. He couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about Hermione. The way she felt underneath his touch, the way her chest rapidly rose and fall as he thrusted into her, the way she buried her hands into his hair and pulled him closer so he could feel her warm breath brushing against his face, allowing him to take in a couple of whiffs of her perfume. 

Even when telling Fenrir the story (leaving out the fact it was Hermione Granger he did it with), he found himself wanting to rush out of the campsite to find her again. He never knew he would miss a girl so much. In fact, he was surprise. All his life, he was hated on by tons of people... girls especially. They took one look at him and told him that they would never go out with the likes of him even if he was the last man on earth. 

It was actually the thing that drove him to the Dark Arts and under Voldemort's wing. He wanted to make them all regret insulting him, forsaking him all because he didn't look like the ideal man or was a Slytherin. He could still hear his parents yelling at each other about how disappointed they were raising a Slytherin. They wouldn't look at him, wouldn't even talk to him unless they had to and worst they would always tell him, he wouldn't amount to anything. 

Scabior blew out a puff of smoke that swirled and swayed up towards the stars. He couldn't help but take his eyes off the sky that night. They seemed brighter and more heavenly then before. They reminded him of Hermione. The way her eyes dazzled and seemed to shined brightly when they looked at him. You've bewitched me girly, he thought as he chuckled before he tossed the butt of the cigarette to the side then licked his lips. He pushed himself off the ground and made his way to his tent.