Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Other Magic	By : starry-pseudonym Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 962 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story - my very first - is compliant up to the start of the Half-Blood Prince. I do not own Harry Potter or any canon references. The story within is purely for entertainment, noncommercial purposes.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
While in the wafting realm between consciousness and slumber, Alison was yanked violently from one end to the other by an undetectable tether. Her eyes flashed open just as Scabior pulled on the invisible rope tightening around her prone body.
“Time to get up, love,” he reached for her right arm, indisputably bruised by the number of times he had gripped it since meeting her. “And answer some questions,” he tossed her unceremoniously onto the leather chair, his array of clothes offering little in the way of added cushion when she landed.
Alison, unsettled from sleep, managed to brace herself upon collision with the chair, but with her arms pinned to her sides, and more unseen ropes winding their way around her ankles, there was little opportunity for her to fight him.
But that didn’t stop her from cursing in surprise. “What in the actual fuck?”
Scabior was in the midst of a practiced pacing at the foot of his bed when in his next pivot he ceased. It had been some time since last he personally abducted someone, not since before his stint in Azkaban, but he was rather certain in his recollection of those times that the abducted were more terrified than this usually.
Now that he had a chance to think and not have the meeting at the manor dictating his quick decisions from earlier, he was coming to the conclusion that this muggle was not fitting neatly into his prejudices.
“From the mouth on you, you aren’t from around here,” remarked as he lowered onto the edge of the mattress, the corner supporting his weight as his plaid-panted legs spread in care of his reposing forearms.
“So what brings you to this side of the pond, darling?”
Alison was registering that disconcerting feeling again – and this time it wasn’t from her bladder. Like the majority of American women in the 1990s, she was enamored with the concept of British gallantry, but the events of the last five or six hours were swiftly diminishing her belief in old-world romanticism. The stinging cut of the magical ropes binding her in place was an intense reminder that her prejudices were just as much in trouble.
“I don’t think my reason for being in England is what you really want to know,” she huffed.
Scabior blinked. A clever parry was not high up on his list of predictable retorts from this woman. He leaned closer, dropping his weight to one lain arm.
“Quite right, love. I’m much more interested in how you found yourself in the Leaky Cauldron of all places this afternoon. You couldn’t have come alone now, could ya?” If she was with someone else, that would have solved the mystery – accompaniment from a witch or wizard, such as when muggleborn students needed the guardianship of their non-magic parents.
Alison studied his face for a moment. Answering him truthfully presented an issue – he’d know no one was likely looking for her if she was alone. But lying and saying she was with others didn’t help her get to the bottom of this any faster either. They were after the same truth.
Gulping quietly, she offered a slight nod. “I did, I was looking for the bathroom. Which,” and here she was putting her primal survival tactics to use, “I didn’t thank you for earlier, at the ice cream shop. I appreciate that.”
Bargaining on good behavior was shrewd, but this wasn’t his first interrogation. He inched closer to the edge of the mattress, and even though that still kept them a measurable two feet from one another, that small advance caused her eyes to drop down to the hand loosely wielding his wand at her.
“I gathered muggle anatomy isn’t much different,” he took this opportunity to share in the same awareness of their proximity, but whereas her instinct went to his weapon, his went to her. She looked no different than an average witch – even the way her chin raised in nigh aristocratic pride at times reminded him of pureblood girls he went to school with years ago.
“You keep saying that word,” her impatient tone broke him out of his reverie.
“Means you don’t know magic from manure. You come from the other side, love. And I’d like to know how you managed to step on over to where you don’t belong.” He knew she was as ignorant to how as he was – for all her apparent astuteness, she couldn’t know the intricacies of their segregation. There was no getting around the fact that this happened by mistake.
There must have been something faulty with the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Perhaps when we broke down the door, the wards were severed. But then he remembered she was already inside by the time he, Greyback, and their two Deatheater associates crashed through. And of course, once she was in his company, it was like free entry to the waterpark.
“Beats the shit out of me.” He was growing used to her candid vulgarity, and in a sense found it offputtingly heartening that they essentially spoke the same language.
“What I do know, is that people will be looking for me, the American government, and they don’t take kindly to terrorists who kidnap their citizens. If you let me go now, I won’t say anything.”
To this he laughed. “You think,” he hummed in amusement while sliding from the edge and lowering to his knee before her, enough to the side to enable his wand access to her chin again. “that this American government of yours, is going to find a rat-infested hovel like this, and save you? When you yourself can’t even get out? How they gettin’ in, love?”
No doubt as his eyes widened in guesswork that hers were doing so for the same reason. If she could find the pub, why couldn’t they find the rest of the wizarding world? And what of the Dark Lord’s master design then? Scabior doubted there was an exit strategy if the muggle sovereignties of the world decided to tamper with His overthrow.
Alison didn’t need the spell to hold her in stillness just then: If I could enter the pub, what’s keeping me from leaving his apartment? She, like a gullible idiot, hadn’t checked the door when he disappeared earlier.
Some magic still worked on her, as verified by her inability to move. So when the wand pointing at her slithered down the length of her throat, the notion that she was nearly scot-free took a backseat.
“Seems to me,” his voice lowered, and for a brief moment he took pleasure in how she held her breath when he neared her. That sort of intimidation came as second nature to him, but even still, there was a pronounced relish when this muggle reacted as he desired. He rose from his knee so that he could express to her exactly what was on his mind in the nearness of his lean and the tender prod of his wand against her pulse. “I can’t be lettin’ you go just yet.”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Other Magic