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A Beautiful Lie	By : djackgirl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2308 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. I make no profit out of this work of fanfiction. I merely own Genevieve and the story arc.

Chapter List
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Hey all, major props to Drawn to the Dark and Hittichowa who reviewed :) I am trying to draw this one out and make Scabior a well rounded character cause well as bad as I love him, he does need a bit of an okay side too, otherwise he'd be a monster, hope it comes across that way.

There is a link on my profile for a video of my other Scabior fanfic that is in works called Redemption so check it out and let me know, it ain't much.

Hope you all enjoy.

Feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated.

Chapter Three: Grim Reality

Genevieve felt her stomach lurch as they landed roughly in a muggle clothing store. That was the third time she had apparated in a day and it was two times too many for her. She wasn't use to travelling by way of apparition often, preferring the convention of actually walking. With great poise and strength, she managed to keep her food down and straightened up as her stomach settled.

Turning she stumbled into a rack of clothes, nearly falling and knocking the entire thing over. Scabior chuckled somewhere behind her. Finding her footing, she spun round to scowl at the snatcher only to find he'd moved and was heading over to the men's section of the store.

She reluctantly followed him, dragging her feet along the way as her eyes fell on a black and green dress that looked beyond gorgeous – even whilst it was on a rack. Genevieve almost stopped to admire it but fought the urge, knowing that if Scabior turned and caught her, she'd have a hard time trying to cover her ass on what she was doing admiring girl's clothing.

"Yer know as painful as it be to admit it but muggles 'eally have some great fashion," Scabior commented off-handily as he stopped to inspect a rack of clothes. "Well, sometimes." He was holding up a pair of what she made out to be bike shorts for men.

Genevieve glanced at him with one raised eyebrow and a look of complete and utter bewilderment. Considering who she was currently in the presence of she had no doubt that he was two pence or so shy of a full pound in more ways than one. It was probably what made him so good at what he did.

But honestly – he was commenting on the fashion of muggles when they had more pressing matters? Like getting clothes for her and out of the place before people turned up. To Genevieve muggle fashion was pretty drab and boring. In a muggles sense, she had no doubt that Scabior would probably be considered clueless in terms of dressing oneself.

He wore plaid pants! They'd gone out of normal fashion when the eighties did in the muggle world. Now, they were typically wore by the punks one would see on the streets these days with their over the top Mohawks and piercings.

Scabior was hardly a poster boy for fashion in even their realm in her opinion. Though there was no denying that he wore what he did extremely well, she shook her head at the crazy notions of finding him to be quite the picture of a lost boy who grew up, an attractive one at that. It was difficult to keep reminding herself that she was meant to be a boy and that a boy would not think that, unless he batted for the same team that was – but Quinn didn't.

Why could her damn hormones and urges, which had seemingly been so easy to control over the years, now pressing her to the brink of self-destruction and all because of one attractive, but highly dangerous, snatcher?

"Wh – Which jac – jacket?" she inquired as she stopped at the back wall of the store and glanced over the three rows worth of them.

Genevieve heard him come up behind her and glanced over her shoulder at him to find him inspecting the rows curiously. He reached up to the second row suddenly and tugged a black leather jacket, similar to his own, down off its hanger and held it out to her. She peeled her old jacket off and tossed it to the floor before taking the black one from him. Pulling it on she found it fit her nicely and it even had a hood. It was just right.

She grinned as he nodded his approval when she looked up at him. He told her to take it off and go find a better shirt and pants. Nodding she headed down the isle of men's clothing. "Don't take too long," he warned, "we ain't dressin' yer up for a ball kid."

There was only one thing she was grateful for in that moment as she looked over the shirts; a small bust. If she was to wear tight pants and keep them a little lower, so they didn't highlight what she didn't have than maybe it could work out after all.

Scabior looked at the change room door that Quinn had disappeared behind moments ago a little curious as to why the kid was worrying about privacy so badly. At least they'd finally managed to compromise on some clothes – after ten minutes – which he could wear comfortably and still be able to snatch in. He tied the red band around the left sleeve of the kid's new jacket as he was waiting for him to get changed.

He knew when they got back to camp he'd need to test out the kids skills to make sure that he was able to keep up with him and Fernir when it came to the actual snatching. He normally wasn't so concerned with the men he had placed into his unit because they were generally chosen by Yaxley and were the more elite of the snatchers – even if they didn't look as such.

However, when it concerned the kid to Scabior things were, in a way, different. So far the kid had impressed him greatly; he'd kept great composure in front of Yaxley, hadn't stepped a foot out of line in the least and aside from the oddity of the boy himself, Scabior enjoyed the youth at his side. Fernir had made the comment that it was as though Scabior had taken him on as an apprentice and student more than as a member of the unit.

Scabior liked that definition; teacher and student.

The oddity of the boy drew Scabior in too which both confused and intrigued the snatcher. Not only did he walk funny at times but he also had such a soft voice that it was almost woman like in a way. Scabior didn't argue with the notion that the kid might have swung towards his own gender, explaining why he acted the way he did but he wasn't prejudice against the sexual orientation of a person in the way he was with blood status.

His mind recalled a night in the Three Broomsticks – roughly three weeks back – when he'd encountered two witches, both muggleborn. They had been same sex orientated but that hadn't stopped the pair from earning their freedom in the only way he'd let a witch. Not to say he was agreeable to that every time a witch did offer herself over but when he felt the desire to. A smirk came to his face as he made a silent promise to himself that when they were in a town next; he was most definitely going to use it to his advantage.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Scabior realized some time had passed and the kid still had yet to surface. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, knocking on the door. "Hey kiddo, we gotta move 'fore this place gets crowded," he said and took a few steps back when the door lock clicked to the vacant sign.

Genevieve had never felt more nervous than she did now, stepping out of the change room. Her old clothes were long gone and now, standing before Scabior, she felt like a new person as she glanced at his face, wondering whether he approved of the gear, despite the arguments they'd initially had over all of the stuff. The old clothes had not been her own but after wearing them for so many weeks, she'd felt like they were. She'd taken them in the midst of altering herself to not appear like a well-dressed and presentable Auror.

She wore a brand new pair of combat boots, her only other option besides a pair similar to Scabior's own, a pair of what she believed to be black Asylum bondage skinny legged pants with chains and straps down both legs which she had managed to adjust so the fact that she was a girl was not blatantly obvious and held them in place with black belt lined with metal studs. Her upper layer however was a little more laidback; men really didn't have much to go for that would look truly good on her and keep her covered so she'd settled with the black button down.

As Genevieve waited for Scabior to voice his judgement she tugged on the pair of black fingerless leather gloves that she'd found while rummaging round through the storeroom. It wasn't like she was paying for the overpriced goods.

"Here." Scabior handed over her new jacket, complete with a red band tied round the left sleeve near the elbow and she quickly pulled it on. "Well yer look as close to a true snatcher as yer ever gonna get kid."

Genevieve was prepared this time for the apparition when he grabbed hold of her arm. "Hopefully by this afternoon you'll be able to apparate on your own," he remarked as they landed and he started to head towards the camp grounds.

She watched him for a moment as she tried to gain her footing when she stumbled over some roots which she had ended up touching down on.

He doesn't exactly land in the most well placed spots she thought begrudgingly.

He had a very unique way of strutting whilst walking Genevieve noted and found herself almost laughing at her notion of him having quite the attractive rear end in those shocking pants.

Blanching at her misguided thoughts, again, she felt like a twat. Boy Genevieve! You're a boy, not a girl! Look at him as though he were a professor back in school.

Even though she didn't like the idea, as he was quite different to the professors, she had to admit it did help reign in her thoughts – for now.

Quickly rushing to catch up with him once off the roots of the large tree, Genevieve found that most of the snatchers had returned, though Fernir was not within sight. This was her first true inspection of the camp grounds and she found that in the daylight it wasn't quite as large as she'd first thought it'd been last night. It was backed up onto some old ruins and by what Scabior had told her on the elevator ride to Umbridge's office, they were the ruins in the forest of Dean. The tents had shifted, or at least the two smaller ones had and were now on the opposite side of the camp to the ruins and the larger one. The place reminded her of the time when she, Quinn and their parents had gone camping one year. A long time ago, before her father had passed away; there were some things even magic couldn't fix.

"Kid cleaned up real good boss," one commented as he grinned at Genevieve. He had red hair braided tightly to his scalp. "Guess this means Yaxley said he could stay."

Scabior nodded as the same snatcher handed him a small book identical to the one that Umbridge had given to him at the Ministry. She glanced closely at it as he pulled the other one out of his jacket and asked how things had gone before unceremoniously tossing the older one towards the burning fire in the pit between the seating logs.

"Greyback took the pair we snatched to the Ministry, he 'old us to come back 'ere an' wait fer ya."

Genevieve then noticed the wand in Scabior's jacket pocket – her wand! She suddenly itched to ask for it back as she realized without it she was a lamb amongst lions and those lions not only had size, strength and numbers against her but magic too. She had gone to the Ministry with him as was the deal, now she felt like she deserved it back.

"So wot's the kid's name?" Genevieve glanced at the snatcher with a beanie on his head and gave him a funny look. The beanie looked so out of place on the man it was somewhat amusing to notice half of them, as she took them in better today, looked more like a runaways than actual Ministry bounty hunters.

Scabior and his lost boys she thought and managed to keep a straight face despite inwardly she was laughing like crazy.

Scabior grinned slightly as he approached her and Genevieve pulled a face as he suddenly ruffled her hair as he passed by her. She growled while reaching up to fix the now messy mop of dark locks. "Quinn." With that he disappeared into his tent, chuckling and Genevieve found herself alone amongst the rest of the group.

Without Scabior in sight, she felt extremely intimidated and nervous.

"So it's Quinn, huh?" She nodded at the one with the braided head as he came up to her; towering over her slight frame and as she took in his slightly more plump build she had to wonder how good of a snatcher he was when it came to chasing down those who would run. "The name's Beasley."

She almost snorted at the absurd name. What had the man's parents been thinking at the time? Then again, what had Scabior's parents been thinking also and hers for that matter? Her name was terrible to her as people always seemed to confuse Genevieve with Guinevere, despite that they were spelt different.

Genevieve could imagine how much Scabior must have been ridiculed for his name in school and she felt somewhat sorry that the guy had been graced with his name.

She took Beasley's hand in hers, shook it and nearly had it ripped back out of place with the force behind the shake from him. The one in the beanie approached her next. His name was Archie; it suited him quite well she thought. One by one she was introduced to the eight men who all shook her hand before moving off to do whatever it was they had been doing before she and Scabior had returned.

Genevieve headed for Scabior's tent, determined to get her wand back. Feeling it might be inappropriate to just barge in, considering it was his tent, she knocked.

"Wot?"

"I – I – wan –"

"Kid, get in here," Scabior interrupted her and Genevieve pushed the tent flap open before stepping inside.

Had she have known what he was doing on the other side, she never would have done so.

A thick lump formed in her throat as she watched the shirt rise. He wasn't facing her and Genevieve remained stock still as she watched the muscles in his back tense and tightened with each little movement he made while chucking the shirt onto the desk.

Oh dear!

Thinking of him as a professor was most certainly not going to work now – not when he stood mere feet away without a shirt on.

Strong she may have been but she wasn't experienced and at only nineteen, she didn't have her fantasies in reign nor did she have tight control over her hormones yet, despite her attempts to do so while around this man.

Her eyes darted to the floor as she tried to remember what it was she had come to see him about in the first place.

Of course, her wand!

"'Ere," he said, breaking her thoughts as he approached her and handed over her wand without another word. "Save yer stutterin', I know it's wot yer were lookin' for." She nodded silently as she located a good pocket to put it in where she'd be able to get it out easily.

She turned to leave. "Yer'll be stayin' in here with me at night kiddo or least for the time bein'. There ain't any room in the other tent an' I don't think yer sharin' with Fernir is a sound plan 'eally."

"Kay," she answered, not arguing as she knew she had no choice. Her mind was however telling her quite adamantly that she should be telling him that she'll sleep with the others, knowing that if anyone were to figure out she was a girl it would be Fernir or Scabior and being in the same tent at night with the snatcher was not exactly a brilliant idea.

"I'll be outside in a minute; I wanna to see how good yer are with yer wand an' how fast yer be."

Genevieve nodded and stepped outside only to run right into the torso of a larger body. She glanced up warily at the man and found it was Fernir. He was scowling down at her and growled out low in a clear threat. Swallowing the thick knot in her throat, she quickly sidestepped the werewolf and headed over to the seating logs.

Scabior glanced at the teenager who stood on the other side of the camp, his wand drawn and blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. He had to hand it to the kid; he could hold his own when he was prepared and he didn't give up easily.

Beasley, Fernir, Archie and the others were all off to the side out of attack range as Scabior tested out the kids' abilities.

Standing with his coat off and a hand tucked into his belt as he watched the kid shake his jacket off and toss it aside, Scabior had an amused look on his face.

"The kid is gettin' serious lads," he remarked in a teasing manner as he watched Quinn scowl and heard the boys roar with laughter, joining in on the teasing.

He wasn't going to call him Quinn, Scabior gave a great many of the boys nicknames; for instance Beasley he would call Beas on a good day and Archibald had become Archie as the man's full name was horrendously bad for a snatcher in his opinion. In the way of Quinn though, considering his age and height Scabior preferred to call him kid or kiddo. The kid didn't seem to mind anyway and he always answered to it.

Arrogant pain she thought as she watched him stand there like he was king of the world.

She went to attack only to be sent flying back across the camp even further. He was too quick for her. No wonder he was the Ministries head snatcher. If it had been a real duel, she knew she'd have been dead long ago, but he was only casting the smallest of attacking spells towards her presently. Groaning as she pushed herself up onto her hands, Genevieve shook her head and huffed.

As she glanced over to Scabior, she found he was standing with his side to her as he spoke to the others. She smirked as a wicked idea crossed her mind.

Never turn away from your opponent she thought back to when she'd duelled other students at Hogwarts and raised her wand. It had worked back then, hopefully it would work now.

Chains shot out of her wand and flew towards the unprepared snatcher, wrapping about his long legs and knocking him to the ground. The group of snatchers went silent for a few seconds before they began cheering her on as Scabior struggled to break the chains around his legs.

She climbed to her feet and waved her wand making the chains disappear. Scabior jumped to his feet, brushing himself off as he tried to locate his wand on the ground.

"Clever," he told her, giving her the briefest hint of a proud smirk as she came over to him. Genevieve couldn't help but smile a little as she looked over at the other snatchers who were still cheering while she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. "Alright, so yer good with yer spells. Wot 'bout runnin'?"

She shrugged a little. "O – O – Okay, I gu – ess - guess," she replied.

He rubbed a hand along his jaw for a second as she put her wand away. "You guess?" he repeated, looking over to where the others were. "Fernir grab the kid an' kill him."

Her eyes widened as she saw the werewolf advance on her, a smirk on his face. Without hesitation Genevieve spun round and took off between the trees knowing that the werewolf would break her neck in a second if he caught her. She dodged the obstacles in her path, trying to keep ahead of the hulking creature. The footsteps behind her were gaining ground over her own and she cut to the right, then to the left and headed back in the direction she came, passing right by Fernir who almost tripped over as he realized that she had passed by him and tried turning to grab her.

She made it back to camp and glanced at Scabior to find him leaning against a tree, absently cleaning his nails with an old knife. "You–"

She yelped as a larger body rammed into hers and tackled her to the ground. Struggling as she was turned over, Genevieve managed to lay one punch to the werewolf's cheek before he grabbed her hand and then her throat, pinning her to the ground with a rough shove.

Genevieve choked against the hold and wheezed, trying to pry the hand off her throat with her free hand.

Scabior watched as Fernir tackled the kid and started to choke him. He had no doubt that Fernir would kill him if he didn't tell him to stop. When it boiled down to the werewolf and the kid, neither of them liked one another, it was clearly obvious even if they'd only been near one another for at most an hour since they'd found the kid.

He pushed himself away from the tree as he called Fernir off the kid and watched as the werewolf eased up before letting him go completely, though Scabior didn't fail to hear the threatening comment the werewolf made.

Well, the kid could run.

Quinn climbed to his feet and made to attack the werewolf only Scabior disarmed him quickly of his wand and saw Fernir advance on him, teeth bared. "Oi! Cool yer jets the pair o' ya!" he shouted, beginning to lose his patience with the two.

He twirled the kid's wand in hand before telling Quinn to join him in his tent.

Casting Muffliato over the tent, he glanced round at the kid as he sat at his desk and put his feet up on the corner of it. "Come 'ere kid," he remarked as he placed Quinn's wand on the desk and pulled the book of truants and undesirables out of his pocket.

He opened it to the page in particular he wanted and glanced over his shoulder in silent questioning as Quinn stopped behind him. "This 'ere book contains the names of truants, mudbloods, half-bloods and blood traitors who are wanted for questionin' by the Ministry," he explained as he held it up for the kid to look at.

All the boys knew what the book was about and all the bits and bobs to being a snatcher but Scabior figured the kid wouldn't and needed to know certain conditions. As he'd hoped, when he made to continue Quinn took the book from his hands. Without warning, it was dropped onto the desk and Scabior picked it up and gestured towards the two names in particular that he'd been meaning to ask the kid about. "Figured yer might be related to 'em somehow."

"Yeah..." Quinn remarked, trailing off. Scabior nodded and grabbed the quill resting in an ink stopper on the desk before him. He ran a line over the first name and then the second one. "Why?"

He turned to face the kid, putting his feet down on the floor as he closed the book.

"As long as yer up front with me, do wot I say when I say than I don't go out huntin' 'em, understood?" he answered. Quinn nodded quickly and Scabior smirked. "Wot would the Ministry want with 'em?"

The kid's shoulder raised in a half-hearted shrug. "Ma – is a mud – mudblood, she – she don't ha – have to – be – 'gainst any – thing for – for them to – want her – her in for – for questioning," he said and Scabior nodded.

"An' the other was an Auror; already brought in two others who disappeared round the same time as wot she did, don't fink they'll be fit for such a job anymore."

Genevieve almost felt like squealing in frustration. If it wasn't one thing it was another and this was the worst thing so far. She couldn't believe they wanted her and her mother for questioning. What harm could a muggle born witch living in muggle London really do tohinderthe Dark Lord? In a way she could understand why they would want to question an Auror who had just suddenly up and disappeared from the Ministry but it was ludicrous all the same to her.

"Questionin' ain't a pretty thin' to go through, yer know that kid," he stated. "I've done it 'fore, would do it again too – make a man spill his darkest secrets."

Genevieve glanced up at him warily and saw the smirk of relish on his face.

She had no doubt that he would be quite able to cause a person to do so and it made her scared as to what he might do to her if he found out what she was really. Torture her; kill her and the last one in particular made her feel sick as it stuck in her mind – rape her. It was the reason why she'd taken up the charade of being her twin brother. Genevieve had no doubt that the werewolf would've done it to her in the blink of an eye. After the comment he'd thrown her when he'd finally been called off from trying to kill her, Genevieve felt that her situation wasn't going as smoothly as she'd thought it had. The notion sent a chill down her spine and she excused herself, the close proximity of the half-naked snatcher making her more than a little uncomfortable at the thought that he might be the one to choke the life out of her down the track.

Outside she found the boys were all crowded round the fire pit talking. Genevieve feeling like it was not really her place to be among them yet sat down against a tree and pulled her wand out of her pocket, a habit she was going to start training herself to do. Keep it handy or in hand at all times. Twirling it idly in her hand, her head in her free hand as she drew her knees up, Genevieve grimly realized that her existence was now that of a traitor, liar and thief.

Everything she believed in she was about to help destroy and all because a snatcher had saved her life.

Tomorrow would be the real testament to her new life. She'd have to help snatch those she had been meant to protect. Shutting her eyes, she felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. Merlin forbid if she had to snatch a child.

She wished more than anything that she was two years younger. Then she'd still be in Hogwarts and at least well away from any trouble like this.

The only trouble she'd have to deal with was the damn Slytherin girls picking on her for her speech impediment. Sighing heavily, Genevieve found herself thinking back to the sight of her new boss without a shirt on. For a man probably in his thirties he cut quite a fine figure and she dimly realized that she didn't mind the sight of him shirtless – even though he was a danger to her.

Inwardly groaning at her stupidity, Genevieve tried to tell herself that even if she liked the sight she wasn't to get any ideas beyond that. The snatcher would kill her in a second if he knew the boy he had taken on was really a girl.

When the kid left the tent Scabior collapsed down onto his bed. It was moments of solitude like the present one that he relished greatly. The boys had done the work for the day as he'd sorted out the business at the Ministry and then outfitted the kid properly and all before three in the afternoon.

Normally he'd lead them on a night time snatch but today he felt he'd spent enough time near the Ministry and knew that whether they hunted tonight or tomorrow morning, they would still snatch some poor sap trying to run from the Dark Lord's hold.

Being a half-blood himself, Scabior knew that he wasn't exactly one of the Dark Lord's favourites however he had promised to do his job with flying colours and he was doing just that.

When they'd first been let out of Azkaban prison Fernir had been put in charge of their cohort but after nearly getting them all killed and then put under the scrutiny of the dark one, Scabior had stood up to the werewolf and made him stand down after surviving a duel with him. He hadn't come out particularly unscathed by the battle and serving as a reminder Scabior now sported a scar along his right hip and heightened senses.

Scabior knew he'd been lucky. A bite or any deeper with the scratch and he would've been taking his meat on the raw side by now. His quick reflexes had saved him though and now he was of keener sight, hearing and smell. Of himself and Fernir, he knew he was the more dominant of the two and the werewolf knew it also since that day.

Running a hand down his face as he stretched out, Scabior thought about the kid and the way he acted. He'd outmanoeuvred Fernir while trying to run from him; managed to get him in a duel even though it was with questionable actions considering Scabior had been turned away from him and then there was the fact that he also smelled quite unique, for a boy. Since they'd gotten rid of his old clothes, the smell of perfume had left him but there was a strange scent to the boy still.

It was almost as though there was an underlining aroma that Scabior couldn't pick up on and it made his fingers itch to find out what it was.

He listened carefully to the sounds outside the tent and picked up on a quiet humming underneath all the raucous noise from the boys. It was somewhat lulling to him and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He wanted to get up and find out who was making such a soothing sound but found himself succumbing to the sleep that it induced.
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A Beautiful Lie