Fallen in Love with a Snatcher (Harry Potter Fanfic)

12

All night... that was how long Harry and Ron had been searching for Hermione. They didn't dare stop until they found themselves so tired they were to fall and just sleep right where they landed. Harry and Ron were sitting on the log in front of the tent, not speaking together, but they were thinking the same thing. Where was Hermione? Was she capture? If so, was she being tormented this very minute? 

Harry wouldn't say it out loud, but he blamed Ron for all this. They lost their only chance of surviving this entire thing. After all it was her that figure out why Dumbledore had wanted to give Harry the Sword of Gryffindor in the first place. How were they going to figure any of this crap out if they didn't have Hermione there to give them a hand? 

His mind began to race with horrible thoughts of what could be happening right now, the next one being worst than the last, and so on and so on. She could be right now being tormented, being beating up for information that she refused to give in... or worse she was probably in an early grave. He pleaded that his last thought wasn't true. That it was merely Hermione happened to get lost and couldn't find her way back and of course, she wouldn't send up red sparks in case of Snatchers. 

Harry shook his head head as he came to the conclusion Hermione was obviously lost in the forest somewhere that they hadn't found just yet, probably sad and wondering where the hell they were and why they couldn't find her. 

"Why are they staring at me?" Hermione asked before she took a bite of her breakfast, which she didn't realize how much she missed until the wonderful taste flooded her tastebuds, causing her to hum in delight. 

"Well-- right now, I'm staring at you because apparently I'm not the only one that can make you moan," Scabior blurted out, nearly making Hermione to choke on her breakfast from her chuckling. 

"I-- didn't-- moan," Hermione mumbled after swallowing her bit of sausage, "It's just been so long since I had a proper breakfast... hell! Since I've eaten anything." 

Hermione busied herself with eating her breakfast as Scabior sat there, staring at her almost in a look of pity. She soon heard footsteps walking towards them as suddenly someone flung a plate with a chunk of meat that wasn't cooked at all. 

"So I got a question," Fenrir asked as he sat down, tearing off a piece of meat from the chunk, "I get why Scabior has fallen in love with you, girly, you're bloody attractive as hell... plus you're brilliant from what I heard, so two birds and one stone, but what is it about Scabior that makes you go 'You know what, I'll let this man bend me over and fuck me.'" 

"Very colorful, Fenrir-- but it's a good question, love. Why did you let me fuck you?" Scabior asked, leaning towards her. She crossed her arms around her chest. 

"I could ask you the same thing." 

"Fenrir already explained that." 

"That's what Fenrir said. I want what you think of me. What is it that makes you want to fuck me?" 

"Your scent." 

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah-- you see, love, Fenrir here accidentally scratched me when he was turning and it developed my senses a bit. I can see, taste, feel, hear, and smell better than the next wizard. And your scent," he paused before taking a deep breath, "is ravishing." 

"Really?" 

"What? You don't believe me?" 

"I just figured this--" she paused as she lightly slapped her bum, "Would be your--" 

She didn't have time to finished when a large crashing sound caused them to turn to see a couple of snatchers from the table behind them had fallen from their seats. Hermione turned her head when she felt someone tapped her shoulder to see Fenrir smirking in her face. 

"You might want to be careful where you aim that thing." Fenrir stated as Scabior dropped his head against the table and burst out laughing.