She lay quietly on her side, looking at the glass on the bedside table. "Do it again," she requested with a bit of fascination in her voice.

Scabior, propped on one elbow lying next to her, ceased his caressing to stretch his arm over her and grasp the glass. He silently moved his hand from the bottom to the rim, filling it with cold water. He handed it to Hermione, who drank deeply then said, "That is so sexy."

He smiled at her with his bright, white teeth and unexpected dimples. "How? It's not like you're new to magic".

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as he placed the glass back on the table. "It's just so elemental. You're not reciting words or using a wand to help you. You're controlling nature with your will."

He smiled again. "I'm not controlling anything. Nature and me have a mutual understanding too."

She grinned up at him. His hand lightly rubbed her neck, as he said, "Darlin', you know you're goin' to have a lot of guilt about this. I want to help you lessen it."

Hermione dropped her eyes and loosened her grasp of him.

"You love your husband, don't you?" he asked in a low voice. She gave a small nod.

Scabior continued, "Does he know how much you love a backrub...or kissing?" He slid his lips lightly along her neck and chest.

"No," she answered."But that's not all his fault. I didn't know how much I loved them until now."

Scabior grinned. "Then you need to train him."

"How?" Hermione asked. "Won't he be suspicious if I go home acting like a completely different person, even though I feel like a completely different person?"

"Sure he would," said Scabior, resuming his caressing. "Start with something small that's important to you, like kissing."

He demonstrated. "The next time he kisses you like this," he said, giving her a little more than a peck, part your lips a tiny bit." She complied.

Then you kiss him and give him just a taste of your tongue..." Again Hermione followed his instruction.

"...and look at him like you are now," he said, eyeing her lustily. "He won't be able to resist you either." He concluded his tutorial with a master kiss.

She wriggled beneath him and sighed, as the heat and excitement between them built again.

"I think it's time for you to learn the sheath command," he said. "You were much too excited earlier and might have done damage to me. But those damned Muggle condoms are a nuisance."

Hermione giggled, grabbing her wand from the table.

"Now point," he instructed, "and say 'Prophylla'."

She was always an excellent student.

"Very good," Scabior said approvingly, "nice fit and you left enough room. Do you do everything well?"

"I try," she said. "I love learning anything new."

"That's what I'm here for," he said with a grin, rolling onto his back and positioning her on top of him. "See how you like the seat of power."

She at first gasped then slowly began to move her hips, while massaging his upper torso. She increased her speed and intensity, rolling her head back...

Delighting in her abandon, Scabior looked toward the door and whispered "Muffliato," re-enforcing his earlier privacy charms. He could tell it would be needed. Hermione was panting. The look on her face was almost desperate, as she looked down at him.

"You're beautiful," he told her, "don't be afraid to let go."

And carefully-contained Hermione screamed.

With that Scabior allowed his own release then pulled her to him tightly. She purred in total satisfaction and lay next to him in pleasurable exhaustion, dramatically throwing her arms wide.

He lifted the arm that fell across his chest and read "Mudblood."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said with a catch in his voice.

"Wha," she asked in confusion, until she realized he was tenderly stroking her bad arm. "It's just...there," she said soothingly. "It doesn't hurt; it's just ugly."

"No," he said fervently, looking at her gamine face, "no part of you could be ugly." He was thoughtful a moment then said, "I want you to brand me."

"What?" She sat up in shock. "No, I couldn't do that. Why would you want that?"

"This is my fault," he said emphatically, still holding her arm, "I need to suffer for it the way you did."

"No," she said in a smaller voice, looking at him almost pleadingly. She knew he had a stronger will than she and she simply didn't want to do it.

"Please, Hermione," he said softly, lowering his head to her, as if in supplication, "it will help cleanse my conscience."

She was nearly crying. She laid her hand on the back of his head and buried her face in his dark curls. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," he said, kissing the palm of her hand and placing her wand in it. "I need for you to."

She sighed in resignation. "What should I say?"

He moved so that he was pressed against her back and held her closely. "Make it something that will always make me think of you like this...something subtle."

Hermione couldn't believe the change in her life in one morning. She was sitting naked in the arms of another man and, at his insistence, about to inflict the pain on him that Bellatrix had on her.

She took a deep breath and recited the incantation that would turn her wand into a branding iron and touched it to his forearm. She heard the sizzle and smelled burning flesh. She felt tension in the body behind her but heard no sound to indicate the agony that she knew from experience he was feeling. Instead he kissed the side of her face, neck and her shoulder and whispered encouragements to her.

She bit her lip and stared down at the arm, as she moved her wand over it, burning in the markings. Then she threw the wand away from her.

Scabior turned her face toward him and kissed her softly. "Thank you," he said.

She gave a tight little nod and didn't speak. He looked down at the symbols on his arm. "What is it?"

She answered quietly, "the rune for two hours in Room 15."

He smiled until the dimples showed. "It's perfect."

He fell back on the bed still holding her and lay with her for a few minutes, stroking her hair and quietly adjusting to the pain. "Is your time almost up?" he asked her reluctantly.

Hermione glanced at her watch then rose to dress.

"Will you visit me again?" Scabior asked.

"Aren't you leaving for America?"

"I'm not goin' to America," he stated. "That thought ended when you accepted my invitation."

"So you decided two hours ago?"

He shook his head. "You accepted my invitation when I first made it. I knew it, even if you didn't. I've been making my plans since then."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm goin' to Hogwarts to be Hagrid's assistant," he said.

"Really?"

"I worked with the magical creatures at Azkaban; I'm good at it," he stated proudly.

Grinning, Hermione walked over to the side of the bed where he sat. "More mutual understanding with nature," she observed, leaning over him for a last hug and kiss.

"Somethin' like that," he answered.

She stayed in that position, with his arms around her waist. "But I can't see you at Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"Because it's impossible," she reasoned. "I'd be recognized, I can't Apparate onto the grounds. There's a million reasons."

"You only mentioned two," Scabior said. "Do you want to see me again?"

She considered that. She'd allowed herself this time, thinking he was leaving. Now that she knew there was the possibility for another day like this...she nodded.

"That's all I need to know," he said with finality. "I'll take care of the rest of it."

She retrieved her wand and returned to her original spot, wearing her Ministry robe for her departure. "Goodbye, umm..."

He grinned, "Gareth."

She smiled in return. "Goodbye, Gareth." Calling her destination, she disappeared.

Scabior put his hands behind his head and leaned back with a smile, in full appreciation of Hermione Granger-Weasley.