Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

You'll Lie and I'll Believe	By : EloiseAtThePlaza Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 8401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters, locations, aspects, etc. I do not make money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Scabior sat in a corner of a dark and seedy pub, biding his time and waiting for the patrons to clear out. It was nearly closing time but a few drunken Muggles were finishing their drinks at the bar. The barmaid, a particularly busty girl, appeared exhausted and annoyed by the leers she was receiving. It was fortunate for the men that she was a Muggle. They would've all received a hex if she'd been a witch.

The harmless, inebriated Muggles weren't the only ones interested in the barmaid. Scabior glanced over to the other side of the pub. The dim lights failed to illuminate his face, but Scabior could recognize Fenrir Greyback's big, hulking form from a mile away. Fenrir was staring hungrily at the barmaid, no doubt imagining the things he'd do to her once all of the Muggles left for the night.

Luckily for the barmaid, Scabior had an agenda of his own. He was here for revenge.

"That's it for the night, boys," the barmaid sighed, drying an empty glass on her apron.

"Ah, come on, darlin'! The night is still young. We could take this back to my place," one of the Muggles suggested, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

The barmaid scoffed. "Count me out. I'm sure the four of you can find another way to amuse yourselves."

The four men finished their drinks and reluctantly staggered from the bar. Scabior kept his eyes on the foursome until the last Muggle disappeared out the back door.

He redirected his attention to Greyback. The werewolf was still oblivious to his presence. He was entirely focused on the barmaid, who was now wiping the tables with a dirty rag. Greyback shifted in his seat. Any second now he would pounce on the girl and devour her. Scabior slowly reached into his coat and pried his wand from its holster.

The barmaid turned in Greyback's direction, her hands on her hips. "Do you need to have your hearing checked? I'm closing up. You had best follow their example," she nodded in the direction of the back door, "and hurry home for the night. It's nearly midnight," she quipped.

Greyback stood up from his seat at the table. The barmaid gasped, no doubt taken aback by his physical features. Although Greyback was in his human form, he was still bestial in appearance with matted hair and sharp, pointed teeth. "S-sir, I think it would be wise for you to leave," she reiterated, backing up as Greyback slowly approached her.

"And I," Greyback whispered, "think it would be wise if you didn't scream."

The werewolf was on top of the barmaid before she could register what he had said. Scabior winced as he heard the girl's head bang against the wooden floor. It was time to intervene. He rose from his seat and calmly walked over to Fenrir, who had already taken a bite from the barmaid's neck.

"Oi!"

Fenrir whipped his head around, searching for the source of the noise. His dark, murderous eyes slanted as he spotted Scabior.

"What're you doing here?" the werewolf thundered, "I thought you'd been sacked!" he wiped the barmaid's blood from his hairy chin, baring his yellow teeth in the process.

"Apparently not," Scabior seethed, approaching the unconscious girl and the werewolf. "Really, Fenrir, you couldn't 'ave waited to bite the poor girl after you killed 'er? She's still breathing, for Merlin's sake!"

Greyback chuckled nervously. "You know me, boss. I like 'em fresh. The taste ain't the same if the blood has gone cold."

Scabior shot Greyback a disgusted look before crouching down to observe the girl. Despite the nasty blow to the head and the neck bite, she'd be able to pull through. It would be a hell of a recovery, but Scabior prided himself on his superior mending spells. His expertise stemmed from the numerous visits he'd paid to the hospital wing while at Hogwarts. He'd always had a knack for getting into fights and causing trouble, and Madam Pomfrey never let him forget it. She would bustle about the bed mending his broken bones and sealing up cuts, all the while oblivious to his observation of her healing methods.

"Let's let this one go, eh?" At Fenrir's protests, Scabior raised his wand threateningly. "Besides, we need to 'ave a little chat."

"I've spent all night in this pub, waiting for her shift to end!" Greyback growled, extremely displeased by the sudden turn of events.

Ignoring him, Scabior touched the tip of his wand to the barmaid's bloody neck. "Vulnera Sanentur," he muttered. The blood stopped trickling down her neck and the wound started to repair itself.

"I'm gonna wake 'er up. Sit over there," he jerked his head to Greyback's original spot, "and don't even think about trying something else once she comes to."

Greyback obeyed, sulking back to his table and slumping down in his chair.

"Rennervate," Scabior pronounced. He quickly tucked his wand away as the girl's eyelids began to flutter. "Miss? Can you 'ear me? You took a nasty fall and 'it your 'ead. You've been knocked out for a few minutes."

"Someone…attacked me," the barmaid whispered, slowly opening her eyes. She looked up at Scabior, recognition dawning on her face. "Yes, I remember serving you. But there was another man. He was huge, with thick, matted hair. He came at me…" She stopped, looking over his shoulder. She'd spotted Greyback.

She let out a huge, bloodcurdling scream. Before Scabior could even attempt to calm her down she was out the door, shrieking at the top of her lungs as she ran down the street.

"I told you to keep out of the way! Now she'll alert the Muggle police!" Scabior snarled as he walked over to the door and slammed it shut with his foot.

"Just wanted to hear what she was saying," Greyback muttered.

Scabior turned to face the werewolf, removing his wand from its holster once again. "Reckon I should 'ave done this in the first place. Would 'ave saved me a lot of trouble."

Greyback backed up, his hands in the air as a sign of submission. "Look, boss, you haven't given me the chance to explain myself-"

Greyback didn't finish the sentence; with a flick of Scabior's wand the werewolf was sprawled on the ground, locked in a full body-bind curse. Scabior approached the paralyzed form, coming to a halt when his feet were parallel to Greyback's face.

"If there is one thing I can't stand, Fenrir, it is desertion," he placed his boot on Fenrir's face and pressed down. He heard the satisfying crack of a broken nose. "You fled Malfoy Manor with the other Snatchers. I 'ad to face Yaxley myself and tell 'im, to 'is bloody face, that I was the one responsible for the Golden Trio's escape. There was no one to take the blame with me. Sounds an awful lot like mutiny, wouldn't you say?"

Greyback looked up at him, unable to shake his head in dissent. Scabior removed his boot from Fenrir's face, wiping the bloody sole on the wooden floor.

"Do you know 'ow Yaxley punished me, Fenrir? Cruciatus Curse. It was unlike any other pain I've ever experienced. I couldn't stand for 'ours afterward. I'm feeling a bit vindictive this evening…perhaps I should try the curse out on you?"

Scabior knew that if Fenrir could move, he would be cowering in a fetal position by this point.

"'Ow about this? I'll give you a choice, Fenrir. Mind you, I'm about to show you far more mercy than anyone else would, under the same circumstances."

He gave Fenrir several hard kicks to the stomach before relieving him of the body-bind curse. Greyback rolled back and forth on the floor, now in control of his body. It was quite amusing, really, to see a large werewolf howling like an overgrown baby.

"Shut it, you great oaf, before I change me mind!" Scabior warned. He waited until the werewolf quieted before he continued, "Right. Umbridge gave me a new list of truants and Mudbloods. There's a young girl on the list-"

"How young?" Fenrir interrupted, his interest piqued.

Scabior smirked. Funny…one mention of an adolescent girl and Fenrir was back to his normal, bloodthirsty self.

"Young enough. I'm going to need your 'elp catching them. I've got some of my own business to attend to, so the job will take less time if you're with me."

Fenrir considered this proposal as he scratched his matted dreadlocks. "This hardly seems fair, since I can't kill the girl…"

Scabior sighed, summoning a barstool with his wand. "Life is rarely fair, Fenrir. Might I remind you that you are now in my debt? I can easily spend the rest of the night torturing you; it'd be my pleasure, actually."

"Easy, easy! You're the one who mentioned this girl in the first place. Just trying to see how I can benefit from this arrangement."

"I'll tell you what. You 'ave my permission to toss 'er around a bit. The ministry doesn't mind as long as the captives are, ahem, intact upon their arrival. Get my drift?"

"Right…" Greyback spent a few moments in meditation before holding out his hand. "I'll help you, boss. It's the least I can do, since I…"

"Yeah?" Scabior urged.

"Since I…deserted you. We were all cowards, the lot of us. You were the only one who stayed to sort out the Potter mess. If you hadn't gone to Yaxley…we would have all lost our jobs."

As Scabior shook Fenrir's hand, some of his anger and frustration dissipated. Although Greyback was a dishonest and pathetic tosser, it felt good to hear an apology from someone, regardless of its insincerity.

"It's a deal, then. Round up our crew. See if they'd like to make a few galleons. I'll get the brunt of the profit for this snatch. If they complain about that, remind them they're lucky I 'aven't reported any of the wankers for insubordination. Meet me at the entrance to Knockturn Alley at 8 o'clock, sharp. Is that clear?"

Greyback grunted his approval before disapparating from the pub with a loud pop. Scabior exhaled a big sigh of relief. He'd expected Greyback to put up a fight, but apparently Crucio threats went a long way.

Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the imminent arrival of the Muggle police. Scabior left the pub with improved spirits. He walked for quite a while, immersed in his thoughts, his right hand absentmindedly toying with a pair of white panties buried deep within his coat pocket.

A/N: SO SORRY for the lack of updates! One word: computer virus. It took FOREVER, but my laptop is finally back to normal.

BTW, did the panties in the last sentence ring a bell? I'd like to think he found them in the forest after Cora disapparated…he's holding onto them, similar to the way he kept Hermione's scarf. Creeper much? ;)

Chapter title is from "The Boss" by James Brown.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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You'll Lie and I'll Believe