Close Call by, Remarkable
Happy Birthday gift for the lovely DarkRiverTempest. Hope you enjoy, dear! (This was written awhile ago for DarkRiverTempest. Please, do not leave reviews about a spell that is used toward the end with no consequence. It's my story, and I will write it how I want. Thank you.)
Hermione gasped and had no time to scream when a powerful, rough hand slapped over her mouth and yanked her flush against a tall, lean body that instantly overwhelmed her with its unwashed, earthy scent.
"'ello love, miss me?"
A head dipped down to bury itself in the nape of her neck and she heard the rushing inhale of air through nostrils as the person took in the scent of her wild hair.
"Hot damn, you do smell good, beautiful. Never can get enough."
Hermione knew that accent like she knew the back of her hand. She had thought she'd left it behind when his body was purportedly found tossed like yesterday's rubbish to the south of Malfoy Manor. Apparently, some Ministry upchuck hadn't done a very thorough job of reporting the bodies of deceased Death Eaters and Snatchers.
She attempted to elbow him, kick him; anything, but the lithe, lanky form was quick, narrow ropes of muscle twisting under the tattered robes she caught a glimpse of.
Her second attempt was to bite the hand before she was slammed up against the wall in her astronomy nook in the cupola of her and Severus' residence.
"We'll be 'avin none of that love."
His booted foot kicked hers apart, a bony knee brought up suggestively to rub in her crotch.
"You've got a little treat in there for me, 'aven't ya?"
Scabior took his hand away from her mouth to spin her around, quickly tying her with a spell and placing a gag in her mouth after she managed a short, shrill scream.
"Good, good! Be a good girl and show me your fear. It's 'bout time I's got a reaction outta ya."
Those eyes haunted her, mocked her. They darted back and forth, studying her features. The man had a fascination with her hair. He toyed with the flowing curls that still lay damp from her shower over her shoulders in clinging ringlets, her tank top baring her mid-riff, pajama pants riding low on her hips.
Hermione let her legs buckle and sank to the floor, shaking her head profusely.
There was a very small chance someone had heard her scream, but she very much doubted it. Her and her husband and child lived on a dead-end street with a several hundred yard long driveway for the privacy. Hermione didn't believe in the use of house-elves in her home. The only one besides her in the house was her and Severus' son Landon and their mini-snauzer Barker, who slept in Landon's room two floors down. Her eyes desperately traveled to the baby monitor across the steepled room.
Quick to notice, Scabior gave a slow smile and stood to taunt her now that he had her restrained.
"What we 'ave here?" The dark wizard coolly sauntered the few feet to the monitor and picked it up, turning it around in his hands several times. As if on cue, a small sigh and rustling emitted from it as her son turned in his sleep.
"You 'ave someone else in this house, eh?" Scabior put the Muggle device to his ear, listening, fascinated.
"Got yourself a fancy bit of magic 'ere." He tossed it from one hand to the other, juggling it around the wand he held carelessly in his hands as well.
Hermione angrily kicked out her bound feet and shook her head at him.
"What's the matter, love? Cat got your tongue, 'as it?"
Tossing the monitor over his shoulder, the device clattered to the floor. The back popped off of it and the batteries rolled out, rendering it silent.
Scabior wasn't amused and he rushed forward, sinking to his knees and fisting the front of her tank top.
"What's hiding under this scrap, beautiful? Don't be shy. It's not nice if you don't share."
He grinned lasciviously as Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry despite the hot tears that welled up at the corners. She wished with all her might that her husband would come home from the potions conference early as he was wont to do at odd times. Of all the stupid, idiotic things she had done in the past, and tonight she just happened to forget to put the anti-apparition wards back up. She had always felt so safe in their home. Nothing could have shattered her jillusion of safety more than Scabior grasping the top of her tank top in both hands and ripping it down the center.
"Oh, love, they're gorgeous." With gentle reverence, the perverse man set down his wand and lowered his lips to her breasts. He pushed her backwards onto the floor, forcing her to lay almost sideways with her hands bound too tightly at the back.
Hermione struggled, kicking out with her feet and trying to roll onto her front but was held steady by his solid, lanky frame. His head moved between the two, laving and suckling them as if he'd all the time in the world.
"Oh, my my my. You've got quite a lovely set, 'aven't you?" he breathed, his hands joining his mouth in lavishing her breasts with his lewd, unwanted attentions.
All Hermione could think about was her little boy two floors below. God only knew how this psycho even knew where she lived and what her routines were. Chances were he'd been stalking her, but how that'd escaped the notice of her husband was another matter. Her mind raced, desperate to find a way out of this. So far the man had been fairly gentle with her but she had no intention of letting him take her all the way without fighting.
She bucked against him and did her best to shove her shoulder up hard, cracking his nose with the bone.
"Oi!" He jumped up and brought a hand to his face, coming away with a trickle of blood. He looked from his fingers to her face and disgustingly licked the blood stain from his fingers.
"That wasn't very nice. You'll pay for that."
He was on her again in a heartbeat, rougher this time, twisting and pulling at her nipples as she gagged against her restraint, moving her body against him to get free. This seemed to excite him and Scabior pressed his clothed erection against her core, his teeth taking one nipple and biting down on it until she was crying, wracked with sobs against the gag.
His name echoed through her mind; never in their time together had she need of him as she did now. The desperation descended from all of her love for him and their child, her hate for this evil wizard taking her against her will, her fight to survive. She took it all and projected it outward with all of her might in one last, pleading bid to reach one of the greatest Legilimens on earth to come save her before it was too late.
Scabior grew harder the more she struggled and cried, her gag filthy with saliva and mucus as she tried to bite through it.
"I'm going to enjoy myself now, love, so do be a good girl and open up for me."
With a flick of his wand he had her feet separated and bound to support beams, spread-eagle and ready for him. He vanished the rest of her clothing and stood back to admire the view.
"You really are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," he whispered almost reverently, the wild hair and dark, darting eyes taking in her soft, yielding form that quivered yet from her sobs.
Scabior released himself from his tight leather pants and stroked himself leisurely, standing over her as he drank in her form.
"Would you like if I put another little one in ya?" he smirked, taking note of the fading stretch marks on her lower abdomen. He knelt down and traced the silvery scars with one finger, his other hand stroking his length more rapidly.
"Just the thought of it makes me so hard for ya, 'ermione."
Fresh tears escaped as he defiled her name and made to shove his leather pants the rest of the way down around his ankles.
Hermione closed her eyes, willing it to be over. Thinking about her husband was the only way she was going to survive this and vow that this arsehole would never get away with what he was about to do to her.
The CRACK of Apparition sounded like thunder in their ears and in a blur of black robes and murderous onyx eyes Severus Snape had a stunned Scabior pinned by the neck against one of the support beams Hermione's foot was tied to, the long, deadly ebony wand pressed tightly into the man's chest.
Fathomless, icy blackness glanced from the prostrate form of Hermione back to the prone wizard, flagging erection and terrified expression heir apparent.
"There are no words that will save you from certain death for what you have done to my wife."
There was no hesitation as Severus drew back slightly and roared over the beginning babbling of said former Snatcher.
A brilliant flash of green light saw the pathetic, dramatic end of a life that had done so much damage in its time. The half-naked form with lifeless, pleading eyes and open mouth slipped to the floor in a heap.
In an instant Hermione was unbound and ungagged, a few wand flicks saw her attired and sobbing uncontrollably into her husband's arms.
"My Gods, Hermione. My precious wife. What's he done to you? Are you alright?"
Severus rocked her back and forth, his hands in her hair and on her back as she soaked his robes with her wracking sobs.
After the shock had worn off and abated a bit, he leaned down and tilted up her chin with a gentle lift of his forefinger.
"Love? Are you alright? Is Landon alright?"
Hermione sniffed and nodded, wiping her nose with the corner of his robe.
He seemed not to notice as his lips came down and covered her own, gently and searchingly pouring all of his tense emotion and relief into it as they shared their deep, intimate bond for several moments.
When he let her up for air she sagged against him once more.
"I- I'm so sorry. I don't know how he got in- he must have Apparated. I'd left the wards-"
"Oh, Hermione!" Severus let his head tip backwards and closed his eyes. He'd lectured her countless times not to let her guard down, especially while he was gone. Now was not the time to lecture her again but they'd have a stern discussion on the morrow.
A cold, jilting fear clutched at his heart. Grasping her chin, he looked into her eyes with a look she'd never seen there.
"Did he- did you- oh gods!"
Hermione knew what he was asking and shook her head vehemently. "NO! He didn't! You got here just before he was able to-"
"Thank Merlin!" he sighed with heavy relief.
He wrapped her in a tight bear hug, squeezing her half to death until she gasped and he let her go.
"I don't know what I would've done if he'd-"
"You don't have to say it." Hermione pressed two fingers to his lips to quell him voicing the thought.
Severus shook his head and shuddered. He'd almost been too late.
Questioning his arrival, Hermione stole a look at the dead wizard off to the side and back to her husband. "How did you know?"
The piercing, bold gaze said it all and his words confirmed their message.
"I heard you call my name, as clear as if you'd been standing next to me. You sounded so desperate, frightened, and I knew you were in grave danger. Right in the middle of my lecture, I Apparated right out of the room. There is a very large conference room filled with confused, angry potions conference clientele right about now."
Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the thought of her husband doing something so out of character in front of a room full of paying lecture participants. It was almost comical. A small smile played about his lips in response.
"I imagine that'll make the morning edition."
He gently kissed her once more.
"You're sure Landon's alright?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. He had no interest in anyone but me."
Severus' eyes darkened again and he pulled her to him possessively. "You're safe now. I'll never let anything like that happen to you again."
Hermione allowed her wonderful, caring husband to embrace her, knowing this was his way of showing her how frightened he'd been now that the full extent of the situation was clear and what could have been, thankfully averted in time.
Knowing that things could have ended much more tragically strengthened their bond even more and the family didn't let the event stop them from celebrating a bright, happy Christmas, thankful they had one another and were safe, warm, happy and together at the holiday season.
No one spared a passing glance at the unmarked grave of Scabior save a passing cat that did its business and continued on into the clear, cold night where the light had once again triumphed over the dark in an unending dance as old as the sands of time.