Title - Imaginary
Song used - Imaginary - Evanescence
Author - OblivionsGarden
Genre - Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter in anyway shape or form. I only own the plot for this oneshot.

I linger in the doorway. Of alarm clock screaming. Monsters calling my name.

Hermione watched from inside the tent as tall, muscular men sat around a camp fire, eating and planning their days work. Each of them scared her in a different way. One, tall with kohl rimmed eyes never spoke, just stared in an unnerving way. Another, she knew as Greyback, with his wolfish features would scare even the most fool hardy of men. The shorter man, with his constant twirling of his wand and that freaky glint in his eye. And then there was the leader. Hermione had come to know him as Scabior. She both felt the safest and most scared when around him.
He was the only one who hadn't hurt her or called her a name. The only one who offered any comfort. But there was something in his smirk and the way his eyes roamed her body that made her heart beat faster. Not from full out fear but half terror and half something else. Something that made her want him. Want him to use his hands on her in the most inappropriate ways.
"Oi, mud blood." The shortest man called her. "What'chu starin' at?" She hadn't noticed he'd seen her. He stood now, beckoning her to him. When she didn't move he flicked his wand and she was walking forwards regardless.

Let me stay. Where the wind will whisper to me. Where the raindrops, as they re falling, tell a story.

She grimaced. She knew something was about to happen to cause her more pain or more sorrow. Either way she'd taught herself to numb her mind. If her body ached that was fine but she had to stay in a right state of mind. Who knows what would happen if she didn't.
She glanced at Scabior as she passed. She wanted to beg him to help. To ask him, as their leader, to make them leave her in his tent. Where she was safe. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably. Instead he watched the short man who had summoned her.
"I'll ask you again...What'chu starin' at?"
"N...Nothing." She stammered. She wanted to step back but she was strongly under his imperius curse.
"Starin' at our boss, weren't ya?" Scabior looked up as her head was forced to the side. Their eyes locked and Scabior's jaw clenched. "Why don't you dance for 'im?"
"Leave it." Scabior stood and pushed the man away, breaking the spell. He grabbed Hermione's arm roughly and dragged her back inside the tent.

He shut the flaps of the door and let Hermione move to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Sorry." She whispered.
"Stay away from the door in future."
"I will." Her breath hitched as Scabior sat close beside her. Their knees brushed and their shoulders bumped. It was silent, beside the sound of the wind whipping beneath each piece of fabric that enclosed their living space and up out through the small hole in the ceiling to the left of the bed. It sounded like whispers in Hermione's ears and it wasn't long before the rain started. She remembered the first time it rained in the tent. She'd gone to find her shoes and ended up walking in sludgy mud, where the rain had leaked through the hole. Scabior had thrown her a towel and smiled at her disgusted expression.

In my field of paper flowers. And candy clouds of lullaby. I lie inside myself for hours. And watch my purple sky fly over me.

Hermione had started occupying her days with origami. She could've made millions by now, had Scabior not taken her wand. But luckily her mother had taught her as a child, how to make things out of scraps of paper. She started making animals and then tearing them up because she wasn't satisfied with the quality. Then she started making flowers, roses, lilies, orchids and the like. These were her best creations. She kept them hidden at first, flattened in jean pockets or tucked into a fold of the tent. But eventually, she forgot one lily that lay on the floor by an arm chair. The shortest snatcher took Hermione to use the toilet. They said toilet, she said hole in the ground. When she returned to the tent, Scabior was lounging in the chair, twisting the lily in between thumb and fore finger.
"Pretty." He commented. "Same as you." He tucked it into an inside pocket in his jacket with an absent minded smile. "You should make more."

He always made sure she slept beside him in the only bed in his tent. She lay, staring out of the hole in ceiling watching the clouds roll by. She enjoyed the way the edge of the clouds looked a violet coulour against the backdrop of the deep blue-ish purple sky.
Occasionally, as he slept, Scabior would shift closer and drape an arm around her waist. The first few times it made her unable to sleep from the tense straining of her muscles, now she welcomed his warmth and often shuffled a little closer to him.

Don t say I m out of touch. With this rampant chaos - your reality.

She soon slipped into a comfortable life with Scabior. The only problem was what lay beyond the doors of the tent. She could deal with Scabior but waiting for one of the others to strike her or taunt her into tears was alot to deal with. She didn't even know what had happened to Harry and Ron. Didn't know if they'd found any more horcruxes. Bellatrix had given her to Scabior to have fun with after torturing her at Malfoy manor. Scabior apparated them away before Ron could reach her.
Scabior had never raised his voice to Hermione, except on one occasion. He had returned to the tent later than usual and whilst she'd been waiting for him, a paper forget-me-not in her fingertips, her heart had refused to slow it's pace. He entered the tent, a scowl on his face.
"You're later than usual." She commented.
"So."
"Nothing." She stayed sat in the arm chair, keeping her gaze steady on the paper in her palm.
"What do you think this is, eh? Some happy little fantasy inside a tent where you don't 'ave to deal with the wolf outside?" She knew instantly someone had escaped him today. He was only ever so tense and angry on days that people got away. It was a rarity. Something she'd only seen once before.
"No, I-"
"You don't get it do you?" His voice lowered now, eyes flickering behind him, hoping no one could hear him. "You think as long as you stay in here, with me, you're safe. Who says I won't 'urt you?"

I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge. The nightmare, I built my own world to escape.

Usually, she would've kept silent, knowing not to push his anger. But on this occasion she snapped back.
"No, Scabior, you don't get it." She stood from her seat, trying and failing to meet his height. "You keep me in here to make sure they don't get to me. I don't know why and I don't think you do either but there must be something in that black heart of yours or you would've done something weeks ago. Given me to Greyback or the others or...Had your way with me." She sighed. "I know exactly who you are and what you do to people. That's exactly why I stay in here and out of the way."

In my field of paper flowers. And candy clouds of lullaby. I lie inside myself for hours. And watch my purple sky fly over me.

"Say that again." His eyes had changed, no longer the stoney stare he'd fixed her with when she started talking but a softer, gentler gaze. "Say my name."
"Scabior." Hermione frowned. "What?" He stepped forward, toe to toe with her.
"Say it again." As he spoke he flicked his wand, casting an unknown enchantment across the tent.
"Scabior." His eyes closed in thought as his hand came up to cup her cheek. She flinched but didn't step back.
"Once more, love." He was bent close, his nose brushing hers.
She gulped. "Scabior."

In less than a second his lips were crushing hers and his arms were pulling her tight to his body. At first, she didn't know to react but when one hand strayed to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, she mirrored his actions.
Her fingertips found the thin strip of ribbon that kept his hair tied back. She pulled on the fabric and dropped it to the floor, letting his hair fall around his face. He moved a hand to unzip her cardigan and push it back off her shoulders. She copied and pushed away his heavy leather jacket. Their hands roamed each others bodies, pulling off clothing and kicking off shoes until they collapsed onto the bed. Scabior didn't wait for permission before he removed both of their underwear and positioned himself inside her. As they panted and clung to each other, Scabior grabbed his wand from his trousers which lay on the floor and waved it once more.
"Scream." He whispered. Hermione frowned. "Make it sound like I'm hurtin' you."
"Why?"
"Just do it." Hermione swallowed hard before closing her eyes, recalling her ordeal with Bellatrix. Remembering the pain, she screamed, begged for him to stop. He did. She opened her eyes to see him waving his wand once again. He dropped it to the floor and continued as though nothing had happened.

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming. Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights.

They lay together later that evening, both watching each other. Hermione wanted to ask why. Why he'd made her repeat his name, why he'd made love to her and why he'd made her scream. He answered before she could even open her mouth to speak.
"I had to make 'em think I was 'urtin you." He gestured to the door of the tent, to those that lay beyond them.
"Why?"
"They knew I wasn't. And if I didn't, they were goin' to."
Hermione gulped. "Thank you...But, why didn't you just tell me to scream? Why sleep with me?"
"I wanted to. Especially when you said my name." He smiled a little. "Most people say it like it tastes bad in their mouth. You say it nice. Soft."
"What happens now?"
"Well, they think you're my toy. So, every now and then, you'll have to scream, so's they don't think I've gone soft on you."
"What about the war?"
"Still 'appenin'." He didn't say more about it. She knew he didn't want to, them being on opposing sides. Instead he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and pulling the covers over them both.

Oh, how I long for the deep sleep dreaming. The goddess of imaginary light.

Scabior's plan worked, for the most part. The only thing was that Hermione could only produce a convincing scream by thinking of Bellatrix and thinking of Bellatrix brought on nightmares. She'd lie in Scabior's arms, exhausted from their passionate evening and try to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, Bellatrix was waiting, wand drawn and that infamous favorite spell of hers just rolling of her tongue.
Scabior tried to think of other things she could think of to make her scream, that wouldn't cause her sleepless nights but came up with nothing. Eventually he told the others that she didn't scream anymore because she'd come to accept that she was his. Instead, she now lay silent beneath him, accepting her fate.
This seemed to please the other snatchers as they all left her well alone. They knew she belonged to Scabior now and that was that. They wouldn't do anything to anger their boss.

In my field of paper flowers. And candy clouds of lullaby. I lie inside myself for hours. And watch my purple sky fly over me.

The weeks went on in the same usual manner. Hermione knew something was going to change soon, could feel it in her bones. She knew the war was coming and she wished she could be with Harry and Ron when it came. To fight with them. Now when she stared up at the clouds in the sky, Scabior's arms wrapped tightly around her, she wondered how life would be after the war. What would become of this strange life she'd made with the snatcher?