Chapter 2 - It's Called a Game

Chapter 2 – It's Called a Game

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

On the morning of the wedding, while preparing for a houseful of guests along with Ron, Ginny, and Harry, Hermione got a prickly feeling along the base of her skull. It was similar to the feeling she got when she went shopping at the department store when she had met that man named Scabior. That was when she knew... he was here, somewhere close by. He had to be here.

She had to know more about him. She had to know if this man was a danger to Harry, if he was a Death Eater, what his purpose was, what he wanted, who he was, why he was here, and what he wanted from her. Therefore, while the boys were safely setting up the chairs in the tent, and Ginny was fastening white ribbons to the outside of the chairs, she slipped off toward the field beside the Burrow. For some unknown reason that was where she sensed he might be.

With a backward glance toward Ron, and undetected by anyone in the Weasley family, or any member of the Order, (who were standing guard) she slipped among the high grass and stalks of summer wheat, toward something she didn't even know. She would stop this man from hurting her boys, even at a risk to her own life if necessary. Once she was in the middle of the field, with her wand at her side, she stood as still as she could, somehow knowing he would come to her. She didn't know if that thought thrilled her, or scared her, or was a combination of both. A light breeze whispered across the field, ruffling the tops of the tall grass and tuffs of wheat, which were taller than she was, and she waited.

Somehow, she knew he wouldn't disappoint her.

Disgusted with herself, she knew she shouldn't seek him out. He was dangerous. Pulse racing wildly, she whirled around to run out of the field, when she heard him call out, "Where are you going in such a hurry, beautiful? You only just got here."

She stopped dead in her tracks, an overwhelming sense of dread flooding every pore of her body. She turned in complete disorder, but couldn't see him. Finding it hard to swallow, her fear quickly turned to alarm and then to anger. "What do you want? How did you find us? How did you breach the wards?"

Without answering her question, the voice said, "You look very pretty in your red dress, but then again, I knew you would."

Clenching her wand tighter, she whipped around the other way, squared her shoulders, and brought her chin up in an act of defiance. "Where are you?"

"And you have the perfume on, too," he stated, still ignoring her query. "Again, as I knew you would. You'd smell wonderful, perfume or not. I have an excellence sense of smell. That's what makes me such a good Snatcher, you know. Oh, that's an answer to one of your questions, darlin'."

The sun was starting to glow higher in the sky, and Hermione raised a hand over her brows to block the brightness from her gaze as she looked around. She had never heard the term 'Snatcher' before, but could only imagine what it meant. She was about to Disapparate back into the house when she spied the man approaching toward her left side. Every step he took toward her made her heart pound harder, faster, and more intense.

He was right in front of her before he spoke again. "Look at you, my darlin', but you are a sweet thing. No wonder the werewolf wants you so badly."

Hermione held her ground, her wand still tightly in her right hand. She looked closely in both of his hands and didn't see a wand. "We have wards up. You shouldn't have been able to breach them."

"Yes you do and I wager they're pretty good ones," he said with a slight smile. Biting his bottom lip, to bite back a smile, he said, "I find the freckles on your cheekbones and nose appealing in the bright sunlight, beautiful." He kept his pace slow, but he was walking around her, just as he did in the department store days earlier, and just as before, she felt disjointed, and highly aware of him sexually, and she didn't like it at all, or at least she didn't think she should.

"You're trespassing, and almost every member of the Order of the Phoenix are either already here, or will be here shortly, so you should leave," she said firmly.

Acting almost annoyed, yet coy, he said, "Now why would I want to do that, especially when I went to so much trouble to get here? It truly wasn't easy, you know, but I appreciate your help."

Now Hermione looked annoyed. She turned to face him, as he was at her back, and she harked, "I didn't help you come here today! I never wanted to set eyes on you again!"

He laughed. "Says the woman who's wearing my dress and my perfume."

She hissed, "I didn't have time to buy another dress because you chased me out of the store!"

"Really now? I chased you, did I? Let's re-examine that statement. I think we were having a nice little conversation, you overreacted, and then you rushed away." He clucked his tongue, "Tsk, tsk, yes, I can see how talking to you, offering you fashion advice, and telling you how pretty you were, was so wrong. I should be punished for that. Oh, and what about the perfume?" He leaned in closer and took a deep whiff. She leaned away. "Your natural scent is one of the strongest, most intoxicating smells I've ever encountered. I truly think that's why the werewolf wants you, but combined with this perfume, it's overwhelming, that's what it is."

He was so close that she placed her hands on his chest, even the hand holding her wand, and she tried to push him away.

He grabbed her hands swiftly, with an iron grip, and kept them on his chest, left his hand on top of hers. His smile faded away. "Now why did you have to go and touch me? That wasn't good. You sealed your fate now, beautiful."

"I just wanted you to leave," she said in a whisper.

"I can never leave you now," he said back, leaning closer yet, inhaling more, his nose sinking into her hair, then skimming the sensitive skin of her neck and collarbone. She cringed and tried to pull away.

He finally let go of her hands and she stumbled back a few steps. "As to how I got here," he said, answered a question she asked at the start, "it was the scarf, darlin'. It connects us. I placed a locating spell on it. I couldn't place a spell like that on something like the perfume, besides you told the girl your mother wore it, so it might have been a gift for her. And I didn't know if you would keep the dress or not, but you bought the scarf, so I knew you'd keep it."

Hermione felt dazed. With shallow breaths, she was aware that she had brought this on herself. She had been so stupid. All of this was her fault. Suddenly, she rushed him again, anger seeping out of her. She placed her wand under his chin, grabbed his leather coat with her free hand and said, "If you so much as lay a dirty hand on Ron or Harry, I'll kill you myself, is that understood? I'll kill you! You leave us in peace and never return!"

Staring at her with eyes that showed no fear, he said, "I can't make you any promises, sweetness, but chances are the Death Eaters will get your friends first. Anyway, my job isn't exactly as important as all that. I'm a Snatcher, as stated previously, and the best there is. My job is to find mudbloods, and bring them back to the Ministry."

Then he smiled down at her, placed a hand around her waist, and tight as an iron band, his other hand came up to wrap around her wrist, to pull her wand down from his chin.

She was doomed. This was the end. It was over for her before it began. She had failed Harry in the worst possible way. Now he might never succeed without her help. How could she have been so stupid?

If she screamed, would anyone hear her? Would it be better to die now, or have this man take her back to the Ministry? What would happen to her there? True, she hadn't registered as the new law dictated, but what punishment would be imposed against her because of it?

As all these questions swirled around her brain, he cocked his head to the side and said, "Why so quiet, beautiful? Where's all your fight?"

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, her head tilting backwards, "because I have to tell you, I won't make it easy for you."

"Good, because I don't like it easy. The fun is in the game, sweetheart. The chase. The catch," he said, his face so close to hers that she trembled. He whispered these last words, "The snatch."

"Yet you have an unfair advantage, if you used the scarf to locate me, don't you?" she accused. "How much fun is it for you when you cheat?"

He raised his eyebrows, smiled a sexy smile, and then lowered his lips so close to hers that she thought he was going to kiss her and he said, "I like cheating almost as much as I like snatching. It all goes hand in hand, but don't worry or fret. The game hasn't begun yet. You go to your little wedding tonight. Have fun, dance, look pretty, and be the belle of the ball. You'll be every man's wet dream tonight. The chase will start later."

A breeze lifted her hair, causing it to brush forward, fanning his cheek. He inhaled again. "I'll remember you forever, and I'll never have trouble finding you, scarf of not, beautiful."

Struggling to get out of his grasp, her nipples tightened as they chaffed against the material of her gown as it rubbed against the leather of his jacket, and heat suffused throughout her body and pooled between her legs. Finally, she had enough whereto well to state, "Stop calling me that, you big oaf!"

He threw his head back and laughed outright. "Big oaf!" He looked her right in the eyes, pulled her closer, and repeated. "Big oaf? Fine, call me whatever you'd like, but I call you 'beautiful' because that's what you are, perfume or not. Hasn't anyone ever called you that before, such as your little ginger boyfriend, or the lord and saviour, Harry Potter?"

"Don't talk about them," she said. She managed to get her hands out from between their bodies, and hit his chest several times. "Don't you ever, ever mention their names! Don't you talk about them, or ever hurt them! I mean it! I'll kill you if you hurt them!"

The man's jaw clenched, anger flashed in his eyes. He shifted her in his arms, holding her even tighter, if possible. Any resemblance of a smile faded, replaced with a grim frown, and fire in his eyes. "I shouldn't let you go. I should take you to the Ministry right now, or give you to Greyback, and let him rape and torture you, teach you that the only place for mudbloods is in the mud."

Her eyes widened with shock and she stared at him speechless. Even as he was saying such cruel things in retaliation to her, his right hand was stroking her back up and down. First, he was touching her hair, then the bare skin above the dress, then the soft silk of her dress. It made her feel soft, wanted, desired and she hated him for causing such a kaleidoscope of feelings to jump to the surface.

She had a funny feeling he felt them too, because his eyes strayed from her eyes down to her heaving chest, then back to her lips, which she licked self-consciously. Then, before she could protest, his mouth came down on hers, his lips touching hers softer than she could imagine, after such cruel words had escaped them moments ago.

She froze. This was such madness. This man was her enemy, he was a threat to them all, yet he was kissing her, and she wanted it to continue, and he was pulling on her bottom lip with his lips, urging her mouth open, and for some insane reason she obeyed.

He loosened his grip slightly, bringing his arms around her waist and hips, and she dropped her wand, as her hands bunched into the fabric of his leather jacket. Her eyes closed when his mouth left hers to kiss her closed eyes, one by one, then he returned to her mouth, gave her another slow, agonizing kiss, then he pushed her away.

They stared at each other. For the first time, this man's feathers seemed as ruffled as hers. He pointed at her and said, "That meant nothing! You're still fair game, beautiful! Keep on your toes, because I'll be right behind you."

He bent down, picked up her wand, thrust it into her hand, and stalked away. She stood in the now empty field, arms around herself, trembling, with the noonday sun now high in the sky. She stayed there until she heard Ron and Ginny calling her name. Finally, she answered them and ran out of the field toward their voices.