Work Text:
If you call out tonight
And hear the call of the wild, reply
You are animal, animal
Not so deep inside
There’s little privacy despite the tent’s considerable size and she’s been looking forward to guard duty more than she anticipated. The air in the tent is stifling and hot. Hermione thinks she might be going stir crazy. They’ve been out of here for what feels like months, but what she knows to be weeks. No news has been forthcoming and they haven’t made any headway in their hunt for the Horcruxes. Every passing day leaves them only more frustrated.
She has barely spoken to the tent’s other two occupants today and when she did, it had mostly been monosyllabic. Ron is still sulking because of something Harry said and frankly she is too tired and too occupied with her own thoughts to play the part of mediator that’s required of her.
She’s become restless and while she knows why, there’s no way she can do anything about it. The confined space around her makes her need for privacy of any kind even more pressing. Finally Harry steps back into the room and hands her the blanket he used to keep himself warm while on guard duty out in the cold forest.
They’ve set up a parameter of wards, disillusion and protective spells and her skin still crawls when she remembers how close they came to being discovered by the snatchers earlier that day.
Relief floods her, as she sits down, her back leaning against the rough bark of a tree, finally alone. The forest around her seems unnaturally loud at first, every tiny sound makes her jump but after an hour she’s calmed down enough to only listen for noises that might indicate danger.
The sound of a twig breaking just outside their wards not two metres from where she’s sitting overlooking the tent and the clearing makes her almost jump out of her skin. He’s back. She doesn’t even know his name. All she knows is that she’s felt strange ever since she saw him.
“Little girl.” He calls out in a sing song voice, stretching the “i” in girl. “Where are you? Don’t you want Scabior to find you?”
That’s his name, she realises. Hermione sees him retrace his steps to where he had smelled her perfume earlier. He takes out his wand and she just knows she has to do something before he discovers and dismantles the wards. She’s shaking with fear and adrenalin when she gets up and steps closer to him. The element of surprise will be her greatest advantage she knows.
The only thing separating him and her are the shimmering wards; just one more step and she’ll have to face him.
“There you are my pretty!” Scabior says sounding smug and then he grabs for her arm and pulls her through the wards.
It’s not possible, he can’t have, there’s no way! He couldn’t have seen her or breached the wards so easily, a voice is screaming inside her head.
He pulls her close to him with a swift tug until they are flush against each other. His hand is holding onto her arm so hard it hurts. Scabior sniffs her neck like a bloodhound picking up a trail. His touch disgusts her but she can feel something deep down inside respond to him as if to a siren’s call.
“There now, don’t you smell wonderful, my pet?” He asks. “You’re so ready for me, I can tell.”
For some reason she can’t resist, can’t even seem to move. He licks a trail up her neck and then bites down hard on her earlobe, making her cry out in pain. His hands travel over her body, pinching her hips and bottom. Tears of shame burn behind her eyelids as her body betrays her and responds to his questing touches.
“Why aren’t you calling for help, little girl? You are just gagging to be fucked raw by my cock, aren’t you? You were just out here waiting for me to come for you. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. I bet if I felt you right now, you’d be wet and prepared to take me in to the root.”
Her legs quiver and she begins to tremble all over. Blushing with humiliation, she realises he’s right. Her panties are all but soaked and only through a few touches and filthy words. But she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him, or does she? Hermione doesn’t know anymore. The desire inside her is so strong, her vision grows hazy, she looks up at him and he smirks, as if he can read her mind.
“Well, well!”
She should go for her wand, hex him or stun him and then Obliviate him. She’s always been good with memory modifying spells, but for some reason she doesn’t even move. Hermione doesn’t struggle, she lets him pull her away from the safety of the camp, away from where she should be able to see their tent if she had been inside the wards. He pushes her roughly against a tree trunk and insinuates one of his thighs between her legs, sliding it up and down along her cunt, making her moan involuntarily.
His chuckle is dark and full of satisfaction. He let’s go of her arm momentarily, and now she realises why. He plans to pin them both up above her head so she can’t free herself. Panic finally overwhelms her, even though she’s almost crazy with arousal. She pushes him from her so hard he falls, noting the velvety feel of his thick coat beneath her hands.
Hermione tries to get away, but when she feels the vicelike grip of his large hands around her ankle she knows it’s too late. She tries to kick him to get him to let go, but he only pulls on her leg, causing her to tumble down on top of him. He turns them over, she’s under him now, thrashing wildly, while the earthy aroma of dead leaves penetrates her nostrils.
They struggle for a bit, him trying to pin her to the floor and her biting and scratching and trying to knee him in the groin. His wand has flown from his hand, when she pushed him but lies just within reach and hers is still in her pocket. They both reach their wands at the same, but Hermione is faster and the first spell on her lips doesn’t only surprise Scabior, it also surprises herself.
“Imperio.”
His eyes go instantly blank and he stops struggling. He is still pressing her into the leafy forest floor, but doesn’t try to hold her down anymore. Her breath comes in desperate gasps for air. He’s too heavy for her.
“Get off me and give me your wand!” she orders, her voice is hoarse and trembling.
Still, Scabior obeys instantly. His weight lifts off of her and he hands her his wand, which feels strange but not unpleasant when she gives it a swift flick. He looks at her expectantly as she slowly sits up, brushing leaves off her trouser legs. The bun she’d fixed her frizzy hear into has become mostly undone in the struggle, she knows she must look a complete fright and self consciously reaches for it to smooth it down. It seems like Scabior’s eyes follow her every movement, but that isn’t possible, surely. She stops her hand mid-motion and looks at him intently; his eyes are as vacant as they should be.
She studies him properly for the first time, assured in her position of power by the feeling of both wands stuffed securely into her pocket. They seem to thrum with magic at their proximity, making her painfully aware of her arousal which hasn’t abated, despite the earlier struggle. Scabior’s hair is long and soft to the touch, she discovers as she lets one of the strands slide through her fingers. His coat has two rows of buttons that make him look both dangerous and fashionable. Her gaze wanders along his arms to his hands, which are large. Her skin still tingles where they travelled all over her and she can feel her clit pulse with need at the mere thought of them touching her again.
He’s still under the Imperio; she doesn’t quite know what to do now. She should send him away, he doesn’t know who she is or who she is with and now would be the perfect time to flee. And yet… The decision is made and she speaks before she can change her mind.
“Take off your coat and shirt and come over here.”
Scabior does so without resisting, his coat falls to the floor, forgotten and the walks over to where she sits.
“I want you to undress me!” She hears herself say. She must be insane; doing this is insane, with him of all people. It’s too late anyway; his hands are on her blouse, unbuttoning it slowly from the top down. Her tremors become more pronounced with every button that he carefully slides free from its hole. Every bit of skin exposed to the cold forest air is warmed by small touches. His big hands slide over her shoulders and brush the blouse aside, helping her to free her arms. They run over her back and meet at the clasp of her bra, deftly undoing it, letting it slide down just as slowly.
He reaches for the buttons of her trousers now, but she stops him. Hermione guides his hands to her breasts and without needing to be asked, he begins caressing them, rubbing the nipples until they stand at attention. She moans at his touch and lets her head fall back, exposing her neck.
Scabior licks a line up her throat and suckles gently at her pulse point, making her only too aware of her fluttering heartbeat beneath his tongue.
She exhales with a breathy moan when his lips finally find their way to her breasts and he sucks one of the pert nipples into his mouth, while tweaking and twisting the other between his fingers. He’s not too gentle, he’s sure of what he’s doing and it’s exactly that which turns her on even more.
“Yes!”
Hermione’s hands are tangled in the strands of his long dark hair; it’s tickling her bare skin, increasing its sensitivity. She knows she’s pushing into his mouth wantonly and she doesn’t even care. She guides his free hand slowly down to her hip and to the zipper and button of her jeans, a groan of relief leaving her explosively when his hand finally finds its way into her pants and begins stroking her clit. His fingers slide up and down easily because of how wet she already is.
Without a second thought, she gets a hold of his face with both hands and pulls him up to hers. She kisses him, biting and licking, moaning her lust wantonly into his mouth. Hermione knows that she is close, but what he’s doing to her is not enough.
“I want you to go down on me.” It comes out a mangled mess of words, because she can already feel her cunt throb with arousal at the images the words conjure up in her mind.
The rest of her clothes are quickly disposed of. Her legs fall open, but she doesn’t feel shame anymore as she exposes herself to him, she’s way past that. He kneels between her legs and she begins to shiver in anticipation.
And then it comes, the first feathery touch of tongue. His fingers spread her labia wide so he can get closer more easily. There’s no hesitation as he begins to pleasure her. His tongue flicks against her wetness, only interrupted by him – she gasps as she barely manages to put the sensation into words – savouring her juices. Slow teasing strokes with the flat of his tongue at first followed by bolder swipes across the small bundle of nerves that make her scream out. This right here is what she needed, this pleasure free of guilt and obligations. The last of her restraint slips off her like water, when he suckles her clit into his mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” She chants, her voice catching. He’s just inserted two fingers into her dripping cunt and begins to work them in and out of her slowly while he licks and sucks bringing her ever closer to orgasm. Her thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping them spread and her breath comes out in puffs the closer she gets.
She can hardly believe her own ears at the noises and filthy words that spill out of her mouth. Anyone could walk in on the two of them, maybe Ron and Harry can hear her, but she’s past caring, past the point of no return. Her body grows taut in a beautiful arch; she’s pressing her cunt firmly against him and then the wave of pleasure finally crests crashing down on her. She knows she’s hardly breathing and can feel herself clamping down on his fingers still deep inside her, never ceasing to slide in and out of her as her she’s consumed by her orgasm. Hermione doesn’t even notice she’s thrown her head back and closed her eyes until she feels his lips on her neck this time, sucking and biting there, marking her as his. She doesn’t remember giving the order but feels her cunt tighten around his fingers once more. When the shudders finally subside, he pulls his fingers out of her. They are wet with her juices.
Scabior brings them up to his face. His tongue darts out and relishes the last of her taste. Without his coat she’s able to see his stiff cock inside his trousers and not only feel it like she had earlier. Unable to stop herself, she sits up and reaches for him. There are leaves sticking to the skin of her back and her bottom, but she doesn’t mind. Not a single noise escapes him, when she runs her hand up and down the outline of his erection. Slight tremors in his thighs are the only indicator that it has any effect on him at all. She leans back on her elbows and looks at him, kneeling there between her legs, entirely at her mercy. And then, because it’s only fair, she asks him to take out his cock. The sound of his zip being lowered is unnaturally loud in the now quiet forest.
“Touch yourself.” She whispers almost reverently when she takes in just how big he really is.
For a moment it appears as if he will obey this command like all the others she has given him before, but before she can do so much as cry out, he’s upon her, holding her down with his large hand around her throat.
“I don’t think so.” He leans in and whispers into her ear. His voice is rough but not angry. She moans despite herself, when his tongue traces the shell of her ear and pants hotly against her neck. It should be disgusting, but it’s only making her long for him more.
He fumbles between her legs and while she should know what is coming, she’s still not prepared for it when it actually happens. Her eyes grow wide in shock and then pain as he roughly shoves his huge cock inside her. She begins to thrash in an attempt to get free, but it’s no use, he’s much stronger than her. She groans both in pain and pleasure as he begins to fuck her.
Soon the pain is gone and it’s only pleasure. She’s almost out of her mind, pushing back into his every thrust and still he’s holding her down by her throat, cutting off her air supply. She grabs for him, bringing him closer to her, biting and snarling as their mouths come together. Her hands run over his arms and back and eventually reach into his pants cupping his tight buttocks. Grabbing them she pulls him against her even more forcefully. She’s leaving scratches and bruises all over his smooth flesh which only make him thrust into her more frantically.
He’s turning her into something like him, something foul. Every one of his touches defiles her and still deep inside she rejoices. She wants this, needs this and it’s not something she could ever ask for.
Scabior is panting into her mouth now and she can tell that he’s close, but so is she. Again. She lets go of him and reaches between them and it only takes her hand sliding up and down her clit once or twice for her to tense and come and come until the only thing she’s aware of is her hand digging into his backside hard enough to leave bruises and his erratic thrusts.
He slams into her one last time and she can feel him shudder and come inside her. And Merlin help her, she wants to taste him, wants to feel him come down her throat, make him tarnish her beyond recognition.
He collapses on top of her, his head resting between her breasts. Both of their chests are still heaving with exhaustion, their breath filling the air with tiny clouds of vapour. Hermione knows she should mind, should feel disgusted with herself, but all she feels is freedom and sweet relief.
Her flesh is still hyper-sensitive and she can feel his cock growing soft inside her. She lazily tangles a hand in his hair while reaching for her wand with the other. He’s too lethargic to see it coming. The tip of her wand presses against his temple almost lovingly, as she Obliviates him.
She pushes him off her and shudders delightedly when his cock slips out of her, every inch a reminder of their frantic coupling. She casts a cleaning charm on herself, slowly gets dressed, taking in the sight of the handsome unconscious man in front of her.
She cleans him up with a spell and dresses him with another one. She grabs his coat and puts it on. The collar is high and will hide where he bruised and marked her. The coat is nice and warm and will serve her well during the lonely hours of her guard duty that night. The fact that it still smells of him is only an added bonus.
Harry and Ron ask her about the new coat the next morning, but she only shrugs her shoulders and refuses to reply. They never do find out where she got it. They don’t even question why she’s so willing to take Scabior, a sentenced Death Eater, into her personal custody when the war is finally over.
~ Fin ~