Hello everyone and thank you for reading my fanfic. It's been YEARS since I wrote fanfiction. I had a lot of personal problems years ago (pre-Covid) that needed my urgent attention. Now that things have gotten better recently, I feel inclined to write again. Writer's block on top of personal problems are real, y'all. I've also had another name on here, Pretty Guardian, but I'd forgotten the password and email address for it. Im glad to be back and thank you to those whose fanfics kept me going and inspiring me.

Summary: Hermione Weasley wants to do something special for her husband Ron (and to prove that she can be alluring). She finds a man who she thinks will do boudoir photography sessions with her only to find out he does erotic photography as well. How will this well intended present for Ron go awry?

Sidenote: There will be slight to medium Ron-bashing.

"I really want to do something special for him," Hermione was telling Ginny Weasley while they were browsing Victoria's Secret in London. Ginny wrinkled her nose at a bright orange colored nightie and to a lesser extent, Hermione's sentence.

"Really, Hermione? You want to….y'know, with my brother?" Ginny asked incredulously. Hermione let out a bark that doubled as laughter.

"Why wouldn't I do that with him? That is how we have three children," Hermione said, fingering some lace on some stockings. She briefly thought about her three children, Ronald Weasley II, George Weasley II, and Fiona. "I'm sure Ron would love to see me in something like this." She gently gripped a low-cut nightie.

"Well, have you thought about red? I think it would be great with your hair. It would also help if you straightened your hair," Ginny offered. Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering how long Ginny wanted to say that. To further emphasize her point, Ginny pulled a piece of Hermione's hair straight and showed her. Hermione shook her head.

"And get some low lights," Ginny pressed. She grabbed a delicious looking sample of red lipstick and gently applied it on Hermione's lips. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Ginny was right; the red lipstick was perfect for her creamy white complexion, and it complimented her pearly white teeth. Since her parents were dentists, they'd suggested she get braces while she was still in school.

""The Big Apple"," Ginny read. "You should get it. Victoria Beckham wore the same thing for the Spice Girls reunion concert." Hermione rolled her eyes but held onto the lipstick.

"So, how's things going at the Ministry of Magic?" Seamus Finnegan asked as he grabbed some chips. Ronald Weasley took a forkful of doner meat and chips smothered in cheese and mayonnaise.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad my father got me the job," Ron started. "It was worth it to see Lucius Malfoy have the biggest fit of his life. Old nutter." Ron shook his head, remembering how Mr. Malfoy threatened everybody with the Cruciatus Curse if Ron was hired as head of his department. Harry Potter shook his messy mop of dark brown hair as he laughed and grabbed some garlic bread to dip into his beef flavored brown gravy.

"I bet that was a sight to see!" he howled, high fiving Seamus. "But Lucius can't talk because I'm certain Draco Malfoy is strutting around there, too. No way Malfoy got the job on his own without "dear old daddy"."

"Of course, he is!" Ron snapped, going in for some fish and chips and grabbed his mug of elf made beer. "He's been making my job bloody hell. I got Dad's old job in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department since he's easing into retirement and Malfoy Jr. is the supervisor, just like I knew it would happen." Ron took a mighty swig of butterbeer and let out a lone, loud belch. Several people looked around to see who the culprit was.

"Still, none of that's your fault, Ron. Everybody is still afraid of the Malfoys even after the War," Seamus said as he puffed on his fag.

"Aren't you supposed to stop smoking?" Harry asked, changing the subject hastily. He didn't want Ron to brood any longer on the subject.

"Yeah, but I can't help it," Seamus said, taking another puff. "St. Mungo's is a nightmare right now. I got landed with the "Special Cases". I wish St. Mungo's hadn't taken on these cases." Ron raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you got landed with the nutters." Seamus nodded solemnly.

"Are these the people Lord Voldemort tried to control?" Harry inquired as he took a bite of his bacon cheeseburger. Seamus nodded solemnly again.

"These patients had their memories wiped clean after Lord Voldemort had his use of them. The only problem is that these patients are experiencing severe cases of déjà vu. They experience random patterns of thoughts that don't make sense to them, and they don't understand where they're coming from." Harry, Seamus, and Ron continued eating in silence. None of them never really got over the War and the ramifications that followed.

"If I told them what really happened, they'd be way worse off than what they are."

"I thought Barnaby Foster was the best psych doctor at St. Mungo's," Ron stated.

"Not since he took a vacation around the same time these new cases appeared," Seamus snarled. "If your brother were here, he'd have helped me pull the best pranks before he left." Harry, Ron, and Seamus looked at each other sadly, remembering the numerous pranks Fred pulled off on his own when they were at Hogwarts. Everything had changed so much, and these were one of the few times in the solitude and security of their friendship where they could acknowledge that without feeling weak.

"My scalp is sore," Hermione complained, rubbing her head gingerly.

"But your hair looks incredible," Ginny breathed in awe as she ran her fingers through silken, chocolate brown hair. There were low lights under her highlights, making her look more mature than her years. Her mocha-colored eyes went perfectly with her Big Apple Lipstick. The lipstick was creamy but not thick; it was also light, and application was a breeze. Maybe I should wear makeup more often…Hermione thought to herself. If it looks natural, of course. She was wearing a black, low cut bodice cocktail dress and heels. It took practice and a good amount of lecturing from Ginny on how to walk properly in them. Magic could do a lot of things, Hermione thought. Except reinvent me into a sexier version of myself. She couldn't depend on magic for everything. Maybe it was because she was an only child or maybe because her mother was too busy (and too intellectual) to play dress up, but Hermione never felt like a hot object of desire to anybody let alone her husband. That would all change tonight. There were candles lit everywhere, a soft, velvet tablecloth which held a delectable dinner: London broil, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes, and gravy curtesy of her mother-in-law, Molly Weasley. She'd been too busy caring for an unwell Fiona to cook dinner.

"I know my brother and you'll need backup," Ginny offered, snapping Hermione out of her private thoughts. "You should get some sexy photos done as a backup." Hermione looked as though she swallowed a lemon.

"You've gone mad!" Hermione said incredulously. "Okay, I did the hair, makeup, and clothes. Sexy photos? No way, I draw the line there!"

"Hermione, how will you ever know how sexy you can be if you don't try?" Ginny pulled out a crème-colored envelope and handed it to Hermione. The writing was neat, curly, feminine. It read: "Ginerva Weasley: Food For Thought." Hermione slid a slender, French manicured finger under the flip and peeked inside. She gingerly pulled the photos out. Her eyes grew exponentially as she stared at the first photo. Ginny's famous, flaming red hair was tied up in an elaborate, French-styled up-do. Her breasts were snug in a low-cut nightie, hanging delicately over a plate pot roast while she bent over, seductively, pouring gravy over the meat. Her lips were a soft, shiny pink and her tongue was grazing her upper lip. Hermione swallowed as she felt a knot in her stomach. Her eyes were suggesting anything other than eating. What really made the picture though was that she was moving. Every time she moved forward, the viewer got a close glimpse of her breasts, her mouth dropped open, and it looked as though she were gasping. Hermione looked closer and saw Ginny's free hand between her legs.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped. "Where did…how did…" Ginny giggled and picked out another photo. The next photo showed Ginny lying in bed, whipped cream on her bare stomach, her breasts free, with a busty, shallow looking blonde trailing her tongue in the puddle of whipped cream. Ginny's face showed pure bliss as she squirmed furiously. Hermione sunk softly onto the ottoman. She gripped her throat, rubbing it furiously. She felt a soft thrum between her legs and let out a gasp.

"How did you do this in front of someone?" Hermione managed to choke out. "Who is this blonde on top of you?" Ginny shrugged. Hermione sighed.

"Just think about it," Ginny urged. "Sexy photos, especially ones that move, will really bring out your sexy side. I used to be like you at one point: Shy, smart, and only stuck to my friends but as I've gotten older, I found myself getting into a rut. I wanted more out of life. My parents wanted me to get married, have kids, and continue to work at Gringotts's. I love working at Gringotts's Bank but who says I want to get married and have kids? I like meeting new people and possibly sleeping with them." Just then, the two women heard the doorknob turning. In came the twins, covered in mud, and arguing.

"Did not!" George yelled.

"Did too!" Ron yelled. Hermione quickly stuffed the photos back into the envelope and thrusted it into Ginny's hands.

"Boys, please! Don't wake up Fiona. She's not feeling well. Nana Molly gave me a potion to help her sleep in her fevered state." This statement did the exact opposite of what Hermione was trying to do: The twins began yelling and pulling each other's hair. Ginny stepped in and separated them with an expertise that came from breaking up fraternal fights over the years.

"C'mon boys. You're going to stay with Auntie Ginny tonight. We're going to travel by Floo powder." The boys looked up at her then at their mother.

"I don't know, Ginny…Floo powder might be a really dangerous way to travel with two small, rambunctious boys." Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, Hermione. You can't do you-know-what with these two here and that potion my mum gave you will keep Fiona asleep all night long. She used to give it to Fred and George when they refused to go to sleep. The boys will be next to me the whole time while we're in the fireplace."

"Nana Molly says Uncle Fred and Uncle George did way worse things when they were our age," George piped up. Hermione said nothing as the twins edged closer to the fireplace as Ginny grabbed a generous helping of Floo powder.

"Just…please, be careful," Hermione mumbled. Ginny and the boys stepped into the fireplace. The boys instinctively clutched onto their aunt as she shouted: "The Burrow!" Hermione shielded her eyes as the bright green flames came into view as the three of them spun out of sight.

Hermione positioned herself on the ottoman, trying her damnest to look as sexy and sophisticated as Ginny did in her photos. Getting frustrated at her lack expertise, Hermione poured herself a glass of pixie made wine. She took several nervous gulps, hoping that the wine would kick in soon. There was a loud crash in the front yard followed by an impressive round of cursing and yelling. Hermione refused to open her eyes as a mild irritated feeling creeped up her spine.

"Damn that Ford Anglia and those Cornish pixies!" Ron bellowed as he stormed through the front door. "Bloody hell!" Hermione's eyes popped open, hardly daring to believe it.

"Do you like it?" she said, batting her eyelids.

"Like what?" Ron said, as he dipped his finger into the mashed potatoes. Hermione walked up to him, her eyes flashing her irritation.

"Lick?" he offered, waving his finger under Hermione's nose. She huffed and slapped his hand away from her.

"Ronald, don't tell me you don't notice anything different about me!" Hermione shrieked. Ron stepped back and looked at her. He licked his finger and crooked his head to the side.

"You look like the same old Hermione," Ron offered ignorantly.

""The same old Hermione?!"" Hermione repeated. "Ron, look at me!" She foolishly twirled and fluffed her silky hair.

"Are we gonna eat?" Ron said as he sat down and piled his plate with food. Hermione reached over him and grabbed the gravy boat. She tried pour the gravy generously over his food, slowly, giving him a generous view of her breasts as the lace on her short dress grazed her upper thigh.

"What are you doing? Are you okay?" Ron jumped up, knocking into Hermione, causing the gravy to slosh onto the floor.

"Oh, Ron, for goodness sakes! I'm trying to flirt with you!" Hermione shouted, forgetting her own rule about not waking Fiona up.

"Why? We're married already," Ron said.

"Shows what you know! Romance doesn't have to die just because a couple is married! I want to be that hot, sexy woman for you," Hermione explained exasperatedly.

"Hermione, you're my wife and the mother of my children. You don't have to be hot and sexy for me," Ron said, gently. Hermione folded her arms and pouted.

"Maybe, just maybe, Ronald, I don't want to just be a wife and mother! Maybe, just maybe, I want to be a woman…a woman who is attractive and alluring to her husband!" Hermione said.

"Well, maybe, just maybe, you're lying to yourself," Ron hissed. "This is our life Hermione and there's no changing that."

"Who said anything about changing anything? Why are you so afraid of intimacy?" Hermione shot back. There. She finally said it. Whether it was true or not would depend on Ron's answer.

"I've got three kids that prove otherwise," Ron chided, holding up three fingers. In a spirit of anger she didn't know she possessed, Hermione picked up her wand that was laying on the mantel out of the twins' reach and flicked her wrist, furiously knocked all of the food off of the table.

"What was that for? You got your monthlies? What am I supposed to eat?" Ron howled.

"Oh, please! You already ate at the Leaky Cauldron!" Hermione already knew that Ron often stopped at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry and Seamus before coming home instead of "working late" like he usually proclaimed. Harry was completely worthless when it came to being in the middle of Hermione's and Ron's petty squabbles. It was like being at Hogwarts all over again. Hermione watched as Ron shuffled upstairs to take a shower. Her eyes landed on a stack of post in the kitchen. She flipped through the envelopes until she found a piece of parchment in the same neat, curly, and feminine writing: "S Photography," Hermione read. "Capturing your moments in the moment."

Severus Snape shuddered as he placed the obscene photos into a photo album. It was an old hag from Scotland, with bright yellow teeth and wild purple hair, in a provocative pose, revealing something he felt he should've never seen…at least not with her. Apparently, this old hag married a younger, mischievous elf and she wanted to "commemorate the moment".

"I'm going to have to start declining certain clients," he mumbled to himself. Suddenly, a tawny owl flew in through the window and dropped a piece of parchment onto Severus's desk. Curious as he wasn't expecting any post, Severus picked up the piece of parchment and opened it as the owl flew off into the night. The letter was in fat, cursive writing as though the person who wrote it couldn't get the words onto the parchment fast enough.

"To Whom It May Concern: A friend of mine showed me some of your work and I cannot believe she would even do something so brazen but then again, who really knows the secrets our friends are hiding? To get to the point, I'd like to schedule an appointment with you take some of those same risqué photos. I will admit it in advance: I am NOT experienced in that way. Please let me know your availability." Severus re-read the last sentence, checking to make sure he didn't miss the name of the person. There was no name. The only thing Severus could do was wait to see if the same owl would return and he could respond. He could already see his potential client: a pudgy, unattractive middle aged house witch with nothing better to do than to try to keep her lamebrain husband's attention, fearing his wandering eye.

When Severus toyed with the idea of starting his photography business, he didn't think he'd ever be able to leave potions. He'd made a comfortable living for himself assisting well known hospitals, apothecaries, and the like with his generous knowledge of potions. He even taught at Hogwarts on occasions. Still, photography was something his mother and he had enjoyed. Under the pitiless assaults of his father, his mother was able to create a world that she controlled through pictures. It was her camera that caught the flying Ford Anglia that soared through the sky under the steering of one Ronald Weasley. Unbeknownst to Severus at the time, his mother sent the photo to The Daily Prophet, not knowing that Severus knew the boys who had broken the rule about exposing magic to Muggles. Severus grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill with ink. He flicked his wand and the quill stood up on its own.

"Dear Mystery Woman, Here at S Photography, we strive to give our clients the best photos possible. In order to do so, I need you to tell me more about you. Many people think that "risqué photos" as you call them, come from pornographic books and movie when, they don't. The sex appeal in the "risqué photos" comes from within and in order to bring it forth, it must be coaxed and nurtured. You said that your friend was "brazen" but what made her that way? She felt comfortable, natural, and her sexuality was able to spring forth. I also noticed how you didn't criticize her decision. It shows you're open minded even if you're apprehensive. Tell me, what pleases you (erotically NOT sexually). As for my availability, I have an open schedule all next week. I await your owl. Sincerely, S." The quill finished the letter with a flourish. The same tawny owl came back, held out its leg, and Severus attached the parchment to him. Severus climbed into bed, closed his window, and blew out the candle as he wondered what the mystery woman looked like.

Hermione spoon fed Fiona her oatmeal as The Witching Hour played on the radio. The twins were playing a sword fighting game with their utensils.

"Boys, please! Breakfast time is for eating! Stop taking the piss and eat!" Hermione yelled. Hermione dropped a spoonful of oatmeal onto Fiona's lap as she separated the twins on opposite sides of the table. George began eating his waffles as his twin brother did the same. The owl flew into the kitchen and landed on Hermione's shoulder, causing her to shriek like a banshee.

"Athena! You scared me!" Hermione said, clutching her chest. Hermione took the parchment from Athena's leg and opened it a safe distance away from the breakfast table. She read the letter slowly, not wanting to miss anything. This S person had open availability. Maybe I could see this person tomorrow provided Ron could keep the kids since it's his day off, Hermione pondered. She also thought about if she should wear the same outfit she wore when she tried to seduce Ron that night. That would be a good idea, she thought. If it's going to be a sensual photo shoot, she should at least dress the part. It's what Ginny would suggest whether she was asked or not. Hermione grabbed some parchment and a quill and began to speak as the quill began to write: "Wow…. that's an interesting take on sensuality. I've never heard of anybody speak about sensuality and sexuality in such a pure way. I'd like to meet you tomorrow over a cuppa before we start snapping photos. The café that just opened by Gringotts would be a good place. Shall we say 9 a.m.?" Hermione tied the parchment to Athena's leg.

"Any idea who S is, girl?" Hermione said, stroking Athena's feathers. Athena cocked her head to the side, indicating her confusion at Hermione's question. Assuming that the interrogation was over, Athena took flight.

Severus was mixing a potion in his upper room. The sleeping potion he'd created for children with illnesses, insomnia, and other ailments was a huge success with the pharmacy. He roughly chopped up some mint and added it to the bubbling cauldron. A soft hooting noise took him out of his brief thoughts. He looked up and saw the same owl who'd brought him Mystery Woman's letter. Trying not to seem too eager, Severus let the owl come to him at his desk. The owl unclenched its talons and a piece of parchment fell. Severus gave the owl a dead mouse as thanks. Severus read the parchment: "A cuppa would work. See you there." Severus had to admonish himself. You don't know this woman! She is a client! Why would you even entertain being excited by something like that? Severus shook his head as the owl flew away with his parchment and the dead mouse. Severus walked over to his liquor cabinet, poured himself a generous shot of brandy, and sat in his favorite chair. Whoever this client was, she was taking great care not to reveal herself. Severus, for whatever reason, allowed himself some hope, something he hadn't done in years. Being cynical since birth will do that to you.

"Accio client letters," Severus said. He then flicked off his bubbling cauldron and sifted through the letters. He found the woman's letters and re-read them all again. This person didn't seem too rushed to write this time. The letters were in blue ink, not black. The letters were looped closely and neatly. This was someone who took their time with not only writing but everything in general. This woman was shy maybe even reserved by nature like Severus himself. This person also didn't know the pleasures of the flesh all that well, either. Perhaps the woman was sexually repressed in some way: a selfish lover, neglect in childhood, who knows? She hasn't had a chance to blossom into her sexuality, Severus thought. This could be a problem.