Beta Lovlies: thebeebeegun, what_the_fawkes, dracoswhore17, & ladysnape89

Chapter 24

Monday, August 6, 2008

"Hermione, there's a young woman here asking to see you. She seems upset."

Looking up from the pile of forms on her desk, Hermione could see the beseeching look on her assistant's face. "Marla, you know how much work I have to get done today. Can't she make an appointment for next week?" In her Muggle office for the first time in several days, Hermione was backlogged with court documents and testimonies to go through.

Marla stepped inside and closed the door gently behind her. "I think she's one of the victims," she offered quietly. "You know, the Ray Ban Rapist?"

"What?" Hermione's jaw fell. There had been the report of another rape in the Muggle newspaper over the weekend. It was really getting out of hand. Bloody hell. She couldn't turn this woman away. She let out a heavy sigh and stood. "Fine. Send her in."

Hermione stood and braced her fingertips on her desk as Marla ushered the young woman into her office. She had large brown eyes, with thick, long, dark hair. Her skin was pale and she wasn't much taller than Hermione. What was most noticeable were the dark circles under eyes that looked fierce. Angry. Determined.

Hermione had dealt with many victims of violence and it was sometimes hard to get them on the stand to testify due to fear. Whether it was fear of retribution; or fear of public opinion; or maybe it was fear of having to explain, share, and thereby relive the dreaded experience all over again, and in a room full of strangers, as well as the perp, all staring at the victim. It was so unfair.

Testimony by the accuser was important in Muggle courts because it was much harder to prove guilt without the use of potions and Legilimency, but looking at this woman's face, Hermione could tell that this was a victim who would testify. This woman was mad. At least for now.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. I understand you wish to talk to me?" Hermione asked gently, offering her hand.

The woman swallowed, clearly bracing herself as she shook Hermione's hand with a firm grip. "Thank you so much for seeing me, Ms. Granger. I -" she looked away and exhaled before seeming to regain her composure and meeting Hermione's eyes once again. "I was raped and would have been killed if not for the pepper spray. I…" Her eyes brightened with moisture. "I need some help. The Crown Prosecution Service has been dismissive of my testimony. They think I...I'm not a credible witness, or that I...I deserve what happened to me."

Hermioine could feel the swell of anger on behalf of this woman rising from her gut to her chest. This was all too familiar; somehow it was the victims fault. She turned to the door. "Marla, please bring us some tea and biscuits and cancel my 10-o'clock."

Marla nodded and stepped out silently. Hermione looked kindly and patiently at the woman who was standing, practically paralyzed with her thoughts and situation, on the other side of the desk. Hernione gestured to the chair. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable. Let me start by saying that you have come to the right place. I'm going to help you. Now, let's start with your name."

Three days later, Hermione was in her office with stacks upon stacks of testimony and evidence that the six victims of the Ray Ban Rapist had provided. After Angela Brooks had left her office that Monday, Hermione had reached out to the other victims, offering her services as personal legal representative if needed. The Crown Protection Service would be prosecuting the rapist when he was caught, so unless these women brought civil cases against the man who did this to them, Hermione would not be needed as counsel within the courtroom. Even so, Hermione felt compelled to help these women. All of them had been made to feel like they held some blame for what happened to them. No court officer or counsel had gone so far as to say they deserved it, but comments about being alone or about how they were dressed when they were attacked were frequently expressed. Angela, the one who had come to Hermione that Monday, was a dancer at a men's club. She had been treated terribly in Hermione's opinion and Hermione had decided that this was her new fight. She was going to lobby complaints against the individual investigators and attorneys who had treated these women so poorly. All of the women said they would participate in her quest. It had been agreed upon that the complaints would not be lodged against the investigators or the Crown Prosecution Service until the rapist was caught and convicted, however.

Now that she was technically representing each of them legally, she had requested copies of the testimony they had provided. Hermione didn't have access to evidence, but she knew people. She had friends in the right places and was able to find out a great deal of information.

Upon going through it all, there were a few points that really stood out. Not one of them could remember what the man's face looked like. They could only remember the sunglasses. They were all coming home from work when attacked. One was a librarian, another a waitress. There was a school teacher, a grocery store clerk, and a woman who worked the cosmetics counter at Selfridges. Then there was Angela who worked as a stripper. She was the only one attacked at night. Even though the man wasn't wearing Ray Bans, there were other similarities that led them to believe it was the same person.

Hermione's friend in forensics, who owed her a favor, provided some valuable intel that left Hermione and the detectives baffled. While the evidence showed they each had signs of being brutally raped and sodomized, including but not limited to abrasions, bruises, skin tears and bite marks, the rape kits came back negative for semen or lubricant. There was no blood either. Which was odd given the brutality of the attacks. It didn't make sense. The detectives were of the impression the women had been tranquilized or given amnesiacs which was why they couldn't remember the face of their attacker. Perhaps the perp washed them as well, internally and externally. It was not unheard of for an attacker to use douche kits on victims to destroy evidence. Hermione didn't buy these theories.

There was no DNA on any of them...anywhere. Not even under their nails. Also, all the women insisted that they fought and scratched as best they could. Shuffling through more files, Hermione just couldn't connect the dots. No, something was going on. Could the attacker be a wizard? While she thought it unlikely, it couldn't be ruled out. She would consult with Harry and get his thoughts.

It was Angela's testimony that Hermione kept coming back to. Attacked in an alley at 2am after leaving the club where she had just finished dancing. She remembered being grabbed and pulled from the sidewalk into a dark easeway. The words he had spoken gave Hermione chills:

"Yes, you'll do nicely," he had said as he pulled Angela's hair. "Tell me, were you a good girl before you became a slut? Were you a know-it-all little priss?"

The woman had abrasions all over her knees and hands from being forced to bend over as he had raped her from behind. She said he had smacked her bum very hard a few times and said he knew that she liked being spanked. When she had screamed that she didn't and to please stop, he had laughed and slammed her head into the pavement. When she came to, she was no longer on her knees but on her side and he was straddling one leg as he bent and lifted the other as he violated her sideways. That was when she saw her purse right next to her. The pepper spray was on a retractable cord attached to the strap of her bag. "I'm going to enjoy killing you," he had whispered right before she grabbed the spray and took him by surprise, getting him in the face. He had leapt to his feet and yelled in a rage before running off. Yet even she didn't have any DNA on her. How was that possible? Again, however, the authorities thought she was confused because of her loss of consciousness.

Hermione stood from her desk. It was getting late and she was submitting that night. She needed to get home and shower and relax, She needed to get in the right frame of mind. She would think more about the case tomorrow.

Saturday, August 11, 2008

"Sshhhh!" Ginny dramatically whispered as Hermione came through the floo. She was balancing on one foot as she pulled a shoe on the other. "Lily just now fell asleep!" she continued, her words barely decipherable. Hermione mimed zipping her mouth closed as Ginny dashed in front of the entrance way mirror to check her reflection.

"Okay, I'm ready," the fiery redhead mouthed after blotting her lipstick.

They were almost out the door when the high pitched wail of a newborn met their ears. Ginny froze, a pained look maring her beautiful, freckled face.

"I have it, love, don't worry," Harry could be heard to say, his voice sounding fatigued, almost gravelly, as though from overuse.

Ginny turned back, her pale skin pinched between her brows, something like resignation in her expression. She let out a heavy sigh and a low groan. Harry's footsteps could be heard on the hardwood floor over their heads.

Ginny looked up at the ceiling and then at Hermione. "She won't sleep! Aren't babies supposed to sleep?" she asked in a pleading, desperate voice, clearly forgetting how James was notorious for taking a while to fall asleep when he was an infant.

Hermione chuckled.

Both women watched as Harry appeared at the top of the staircase in shorts and a faded Chudley Cannons t-shirt. His hair was tousled and his glasses were slightly crooked as though he had just woken up. In his arms was his weeks old baby girl. "I got this, Gin. It's fine," his voice sounded just as worn as before.

Ginny resolutely placed her purse on the sideboard under the mirror. She shook her head as she looked back up at him. "No, Harry. You've only slept three out of the last 36 hours." She turned to Hermione. "He was called into work last night after dinner and didn't come home until an hour ago!" She placed her hands on her hips as she looked back up toward her husband. "You need sleep. I told you I would stay home if she didn't settle."

Hermione felt terrible for her friend. Ginny had been looking forward to this night for weeks. The tickets were hard to come by and it was practically a miracle they had them. "Ginny, go," she said simply. "Go meet Luna and Susan. You three have been looking forward to this concert for ages. I'm tired, I've been working long hours and a night in sounds lovely to me." She looked up the stairs. "That way Harry can sleep."

"Hermione," Ginny practically whinged. "Don't be silly. You've been looking forward to it, as well."

Hermione picked up Ginny's bag and forced it back into her hands. "No, I've been looking forward to spending time with you, and we can do that another time." She started to push Ginny toward the door. "Tell the girls I said hi and to have fun. I'll be here when you get home and we'll get together another evening." She looked pointedly at the door. "Now go, or you'll be late. Besides, I want some baby time. I rarely get it."

Ginny pulled her friend into a fierce hug. "Thank you, HG. I take back almost every mean thing I ever said about you."

Hermione laughed.

Ginny blew a kiss up to her husband and with one last reassuring gaze from Hermione, walked out.

As soon as the door closed, Hermione made her way up the stairs. "Give her to me, I'll hold her until she's down and then put her in her crib. We'll be fine."

Now that she was closer, she could see the clear exhaustion on her friend's face. His skin was paler than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he had aged about ten years. Hermione grabbed the pink, fleece baby blanket off Harry's shoulder and tossed it over her own before reaching out to take the infant. She was amused to discover the blanket was in the design of a pygmy puff and forced herself to ignore the hitch of maternal longing that was poking her more and more these days. How fun it must be to pick out these adorable little necessities.

Harry let out a yawn as he started to speak, his words coming out muffled, "Thanks, Hermione. The boys have already gone to bed."

"Get some sleep, Harry," she responded as she cradled baby Lily in her arms.

"There's a few bottles under a stasis charm by her crib. She just ate thirty minutes ago." Harry added, his green eyes looking tenderly upon his daughter as he stroked her pillowy cheek.

"Go!" Hermione demanded with a smile. "It's my turn to love on her. Get to bed before you fall over and get another scar on your head. And I'll check on James and Albus in a little while to be sure they are okay as well. Now go!"

Harry grinned, "Okay, thanks." As he turned to walk away, Hermione grinned when he pondered, "Why are all the women in my life so bossy?"

Once Harry was in his room, Hermione walked into the nursery, rocking Lily as she made cooing noises. "You are so sweet," she whispered, unable to resist the urge to kiss the reddish wisps of hair that were rather abundant, despite only being a few weeks old.

Lily's eyes were bright blue and Hermione wondered if they would turn to the signature green of her namesake. "Your grandmother was something," Hermione whispered, "She loved your father so much and so selflessly that she gave him an incredible power against one of the darkest wizards ever known."

Lily's eyes were already fluttering as she fought the pull of sleep. Hermione simply rocked her, relishing the quiet and the experience she felt was lacking in her own life. It's not that she wanted children of her own right this minute per se, it was more that she knew she wanted them in her future. Her friends around her, at least her Gryffindor friends, were all settled with their life mates and had already started their families. All of the Weasleys, save Charlie, had children. Hermione just felt a little left behind and a part of her wanted to catch up. Logically, she knew there was no rush. She was young and had a career that was successful and she was proud of what she had accomplished. She wouldn't trade that for anything. And she had Severus. There was no fighting the curve of her lips as she thought of the wizard she was in love with. When her thoughts suddenly and, in her opinion, mutinously shifted to Lucius, a nervousness clenched her gut. It was quickly followed by a feeling of loss. She was losing the battle of what she should be feeling versus what she truly was. Why can't I stop thinking about him?

You are being selfish, Hermione.

The words from Lucius still flashed in her memory. She really was trying to not think about him, but if anything, his distance was making her miss the wizard even more. And it wasn't just her, she knew Snape was missing his best friend. He was short-tempered and more moody than usual. He went from being surly and taciturn to being sexually insatiable in a matter of minutes. It was not lost on Hermione that it felt like Snape was trying to prove something with these marathon sexual encounters, although what and to whom, she wasn't quite sure.

Focusing back on the babe in her arms, she could see that Lily was finally asleep. Welcoming the reprieve from her train of thought, Hermione carried the newest Potter to her crib and, after making sure the little angel was swaddled properly in her pygmy puff blanket, she laid her down gently, chuckling when she pulled up the little hood. She watched over the crib for a few minutes to confirm the babe really was asleep before tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall to check on Albus and James. Peeking in their room, she felt compelled to watch their sleeping forms and was only barely able to resist the urge to kiss their adorable little cheeks. Three children. What a handful, and if Ginny had her way, there would be several more little Potters in the future.

Deciding a cup of tea was just what she needed, Hermione headed down the steps after popping into the nursery to confirm Lily was still sleeping.

An hour and a half later, she was reading through a book of household charms that Ginny had left out in the living room when she heard the sound of heavy feet on the stairs. She was surprised to see Harry groggily making his way down. "You alright?" she asked.

Harry grumbled something about resurrection and graveyard before going into the kitchen.

Hermione jumped up and dashed in after him. "Sit, I'll make a fresh pot of tea."

He fell into a chair and watched her as she filled the kettle with water. She turned back to face him to see his chin resting on his hand with his elbow on the table. He looked so tired. It broke her heart to know he was still suffering from nightmares.

"I thought it was getting better," she said quietly as she waved her wand, causing the kettle to instantly heat.

He rubbed his eyes before meeting hers. "It's much better than it used to be." She spooned the loose tea into the teapot and grabbed a clean mug out of the cabinet. "It's just these Muggleborn attacks. Dolohov being out there. It's...I guess it's bringing it all back," he added.

Hermione poured the hot water into the pot, allowing the tea to steep as she asked, "Do you still think it's Dolohov?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. He's been spotted in Russia. There's a few photographs of him that show he was in his home country when a couple of the attacks took place."

"Who took the photographs? Why wasn't he arrested?"

Harry sighed heavily and blew out a puff of air. "French agents are in Russia investigating an illegal potions trafficking ring. It was surveillance photos for their investigation that captured the images. They weren't willing to blow their cover to arrest him. He may be a terrorist but he's not their priority."

Hermione poured the tea through a strainer into Harry's cup and handed it to him. He gave her a grateful look and took the offering, inhaling the scent before taking a swallow.

There was a pause in conversation before Harry added, "I took a look at the information you gave me about those Muggle attacks."

Hermione poured herself a fresh cup. "It's awful. The women are terrified. Only two of them are willing to testify on the stand if he's caught." She took a sip. "It's just so odd how there isn't any DNA evidence. How could someone attack them and then clean away all traces of evidence so thoroughly."

"Magic," Harry whispered.

"I considered that," Hermione agreed. "A scourgify." After a beat, she asked, "You don't think the Muggle attacks and the Muggleborn attacks could be related, do you?"

Harry shrugged. "Not likely." He took another swallow of tea, seeming to contemplate. "The MO's are different. Several Muggleborns have been killed, and not all of them were raped."

Hermione had to concede the point. At least so far, the Ray Ban Rapist hadn't killed anyone. "So, if it isn't Dolohov attacking the Muggleborns, then who?"

Harry shook his head, "I'm not convinced he isn't involved. It's too coincidental. He escaped from Azkaban and almost immediately the attacks on Muggleborns started. They have to be connected."

"But Harry, there are many within the Magical community who hate Muggleborns and there are other Death Eaters who were never caught. Severus and Lucius both felt he would be more likely to flee to his home country and to his family rather than spend time here where he is more likely to get caught."

"I saw him that day we were having lunch, remember?"

"No, you thought you saw him. You never got close enough to know for sure."

Harry grew quiet, a signature tell he was irritated with her. She reached out and took his hand. "Listen, you might be right. You are a great Auror, Harry, and your instincts are good. It's why I rely on you so heavily for insight and advice with some of my cases. But you have to admit that there has been an occasion or two where you tried to make the evidence fit your theory instead of letting the evidence speak for itself," She paused, knowing she was telling him what he didn't want to hear. But frankly, she was the only one who ever did.

"You're speaking of when I was younger. Before I had Auror training."

"Yes, but this is also Dolohov we are talking about. A remnant from that time in your life. It's more personal. I know it is. Because of what he did...to me. Don't get blinded by that tunnel vision."

His furious, narrowed eyes shot up to hers and for a minute she didn't know if that anger was toward her or toward what happened to her. Within a couple seconds he seemed to deflate before her. "I was definitely wrong that night, wasn't I? You were cursed and Sirius was killed."

"Oh, Harry. Give yourself a break. I went that night because I wanted to. I could have said no and it wasn't your fault that Sirius died. We've been through this a hundred times."

They both grew quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry for upsetting you," she whispered.

He let out a heavy sigh. "No, don't apologize. You're right. I just… I can't stand that he's out there. Free!" He squeezed her hand that was still resting on his. They stared at each other for a minute with the affection and understanding of a lifetime of friendship. "You ground me sometimes, Hermione," he added, quietly.

"I've had lots of practice," she replied with a smile. "You're like the brother I never had."

"No, I am your brother," he corrected with a fierceness to his voice that made her tear ducts water.

Just then, the front door opened. Hermione wiped her eyes and Harry stood up as they heard Ginny approach.

"What's this?" the redhead asked. "Why are you up?"

"Nightmare," he responded, resignedly.

Ginny walked over to him and kissed his cheek, before brushing the hair off his forehead. "Yeah, those tend to happen when you're stressed or sleep-deprived."

"How were The Water Nymphs? Was the concert good?" Hermione asked.

Ginny's face completely lit up as she gushed, "Oh HG, it was amazing. We were able to move closer to the stage because everyone was standing and ..."

Hermione was smiling at Ginny, watching her excitedly relive the night, but her thoughts were on Harry.

"...and then Luna got the idea to edge around to the side…"

Tonight reminded Hermione of the bond she shared with Harry and a tug of guilt for keeping secrets from him caused her heart to ache. If only she could share more about her secret life with him. She glanced at her messy-haired best friend to find his eyes glued on his wife with a warm smile on his face and unadulterated love in his eyes. Maybe, Hermione thought, if she just shared part of it all. Maybe she could tell him that Severus and Lucius own a club that she goes to sometimes. Well, no, she realized, because then he'd want to see it.

"...I don't think she's listening…"

Oh Merlin. Harry would fall right over if he walked into The Dungeon. Nimue, if he saw me there, dressed in that blasted training corset or...

"... and then we took our tops off and threw them at the bouncers…"

Or even worse, if he saw me submitting… Wait. What? Hermione suddenly realized that Ginny had stopped talking. She froze when she noticed the redhead was giving her an expectant look and Harry was trying to conceal a smile. "Umm," she stalled, trying to recall more of what Ginny had been saying.

"Honestly, HG, if you aren't going to listen then why ask? When you didn't react to us sneaking backstage, I mean it was obvious you were tuning me out!"

"You snuck backstage?" Hermione asked with awe.

Ginny crossed her arms and gave her a pointed look. "I'm not telling the story a second time. Not tonight. You'll just have to wait." Hermione could see the smile that Ginny was concealing.

"I'm sorry, Gin. I think I'm just tired. I really do want to hear all about it."

GInny pondered and after a minute shrugged. "It's okay. I can't be put out with you. It's because of you I got to go in the first place." Her eyes lit up as she looked at Harry and added excitedly, "And then I never would have learned that Neptune is a fan of the Holyhead Harpies!"

"You and your Quidditch," Hermione teased.

"Damn straight," Harry said, wrapping his arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her close. "That's why I love her."

"No, if you loved me, you would have burned that Chudley Cannons t-shirt when Ron gave it to you," she scolded, gesturing towards the worn shirt he was wearing.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave you to debate your Quidditch teams. I'm going to the club and to bed!" Hemrione announced.

"The club?" Ginny asked.

Oh, shit! "Did I say club? I mean I'm going home and to bed. I'm so tired I don't even know what I'm saying."

"Is this a new role play I'm unfamiliar with?"

Hermione cocked open one eye to see Severus fully dressed and looking down at her, expectantly.

"What?" she mumbled, pulling the pillow partway over her head, blocking out the light.

"Perhaps you are playing Sleeping Beauty and are slumbering away in your tower?"

"Huh?" she grumbled. She peeked up into amused, onyx eyes. "What time is it?" she asked as she stretched.

"Almost two o'clock." When she didn't flinch, he added, "In the afternoon."

"What?" she asked, a bit more alert.

"Yes, you have been sleeping for at least twelve hours, probably more. When I came up from the floor at 2am last night, you were sound asleep."

"One-fifteen," she said. "I went to bed at one-fifteen." She reached out and took his hand. "Are you hungry? I can make you some lunch. Have you been working?"

"I've been in the office since seven. With the weekend manager being out sick and me having to manage the floor in his stead, I've had very little time for anything else. And with my business partner gallivanting around the continent, I'm left with twice the work." His voice was a bit petulant. Hermione knew he was missing his best friend, and it wasn't just because of the extra work.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Isn't Draco supposed to be helping you?" she asked as she stood and walked towards the bathroom.

"He's had his hands full with Malfoy Enterprises. He needed a break, so I told him to take the weekend," he answered, following on Hermione's heels.

"Well, you shouldn't complain the floor is wet when you gave away the mop," she replied as she entered the loo and turned back to face him, closing the door in his face with a cocked brow. "Why don't you ask him to handle the floor tonight? That way you can have a night off?" She continued, her voice now sounding distant.

He spun around and leaned back against the wood. "Hmm, maybe," he mumbled after a second's thought. Turning his head sideways, and peeking back over his shoulder, he asked loudly, "Why do you always close the door?"

When she didn't answer, he walked back to the bed and began to make it.

A minute later she emerged with a toothbrush in her mouth. "We've been through this before. I don't want you watching me pee!" She marched back into the bathroom where he heard her spit and rinse out her mouth.

"It's not like I haven't seen you do it before," he countered.

"Once. Once...and I almost safeworded!"

"Don't be so melodramatic. If memory serves, you loved Daddy time that night," he countered with a smirk.

"Hmpf," she responded, not quite willing to concede the point and not quite able to hide the tug of a smile at the memory.

He watched as she opened one of her designated drawers and pulled out clean knickers and a bra as well as denims and a shirt. "I'm taking a shower. You can stand out here and moan about work and not getting to watch me pee, or you can join me in the shower."

"Why can't I do both?" he asked with amusement as she headed back into the bathroom.

Hermione had just gotten under the spray when he stepped in behind her.

"Here, allow me," he offered as he took the bottle of hair cleansing potion he had made for her out of her hands.

The minute he began working the elixir into her hair, Hermione sighed. "You have amazing hands, Severus," she serenely and softly proclaimed. "I remember watching you in potions class. The meticulous way your fingers precisely prepared ingredients. Chopping, slicing, a pinch here, a dash there," she leaned back into him, almost high from the scalp massage matched with the memories.

"Rinse," he instructed.

Hermione turned to face him and arched her back as she leaned her head back under the water.

Unable to resist, he stepped close, reaching around to help her rinse her long and copious locks, relishing the feel of her soft skin and breasts pressing against him. "You have a thing for fingers, do you?" he asked with a huskiness to his voice.

"I have a thing for talent. Skill. A Master of his craft," she responded, her eyes still closed, enjoying the sensation of his ministrations.

His hands dropped down to hers where he swiftly moved them behind her, grasping her wrists with one hand as his mouth moved to her jaw. "One could say I'm the master of you. Are you my craft?" he purred.

"Master, I'm whatever you want me to be when you take control...and when you talk like that," she added breathlessly.

"Shall I take control, pet? Right now? Do I have your...consent?" It was a Sunday, and not an agreed upon time of submission. Ever since that debacle of a dinner several months ago, Snape always made sure they were on the same page before he pushed her.

"Yes, Master."

Forty minutes later, Hermione lay sated and basking in the afterglow of their impromptu encounter. Both naked and on their left sides, Severus was curled around her from behind, their bodies melded together.

"That was lovely," she mused with a light and airy voice.

A rich chuckle of air tickled her neck before a tender kiss replaced it. "Yes, I have to agree. Your arse pink tinged from my hand is quite lovely."

"Hmm, talking about your hands is what led to all this if memory serves," she added with a lazy smile.

"So it was," he responded, peppering her shoulder with kisses. "I believe you mentioned something about making me lunch?"

"Worked up an appetite, did you?" she teased as she hopped out of bed and grabbed her robe.

"I'm always ravenous around you," he responded, following her into the kitchen after pulling on a clean pair of boxers and trousers.

"How was the concert?" Snape asked ten minutes later before taking a second bite of a stacked bacon sandwich.

"I didn't go, I watched Lily and the boys while Harry slept. Ginny was going to stay home so that Harry could sleep after a long shift, but I couldn't let her miss out. She had been talking about that concert for weeks." Hermione popped a bite of bacon into her mouth before adding, "Besides, she looked hot! You should have seen her. It's so rare that I see her with makeup and all dressed couldn't go to waste. And apparently it didn't because they finagled their way backstage!"

"Having three small children makes it hard, I'm sure," he offered. "She's quite lovely, though. She's Molly's daughter, so I'm not surprised."

"Don't look like that," he continued. "Molly Prewett was quite attractive when she was young. She was curvy in the right places and she wasn't standoffish. She had a wholesomeness and a warmth about her that many young men found appealing." He took a swallow of his juice.

Hermione had never thought of Mrs. Weasley as anything other than the plump, motherly matriarch of her practically adopted family. Hermione realized it was rather narrow minded of her. Of course Molly had been young. And it shouldn't be surprising that she was attractive.

"Do you still think she's attractive?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

Severus paused and seemed to consider his answer. "Molly Weasley has borne seven children. She looks amazing for having done so. She's lively with lovely eyes and is fierce and loyal and, no slight to the sandwich in hand, the best cook I've ever known, so yes, I find her attractive."

"I really like it that you see her that way. Society, particularly in the Muggle world, glamourises being rail thin to the point that for many women it's an impossible standard." Hermione counted herself among those women. While now she exercised because she enjoyed feeling fit and strong, she initially started working out in her early twenties due to insecurities about her appearance. She had always been confident about what was between her ears, but never held that same confidence when she looked in the mirror. She no longer felt those insecurities, but she was also very thin and toned. If she wasn't, would she have the same confidence? Somehow, she doubted it.

Severus shrugged. "I've owned the club long enough to learn to appreciate women of all shapes and sizes. I've seen firsthand how women, and men as well for that matter, have blossomed into better self awareness and acceptance through Dominance and submission." He looked at her and asked, "Have you met Cecelia?"

Hermione wasn't sure.

"She's a submissive who joined several years ago. She doesn't come around very much anymore, but when she first came it was with another member who suspected she was a submissive and didn't know it. Anyhow, Cecelia only has one leg and wears a prosthetic that is charmed to look natural. It was something she was very insecure about. She thought men would find her unattractive and never put herself out there to give anyone a chance." He stared off in memory as he said, "Within a year and a half she was a different person. She even submitted on stage one night without her prosthetic." Severus turned back to Hermione, "D/s may be a fetish to many, but for others it can be a form of therapy. It certainly was for her."

Hermione felt a heaviness in her heart. It was a touching story, after all. "Did she have a contracted Dominant?"

Severus grinned. "No, she had me...as well as many others over time. I was the first to talk with her, the first to scene with her… to show her that being different didn't mean she wasn't sexy or desirable."

Hermione smiled warmly at him as she leapt from her chair to his lap. "You have an incredible kindness within you, Severus. Thank you for letting me see it. I know it isn't easy for you...showing this part of yourself."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You make me want to deserve you, Hermione," he whispered in a heartfelt tone.

She wanted to tell him she loved him. He had to know she did, but she had never said the words. She thought he might love her as well. She knew he cared about her. She knew he was very attracted to her and liked being with her. But love her?

"So how was babysitting?"

Taken aback by the change in topic, she swallowed her almost-confession and answered brightly, "It was nice. Quiet. Lily is beautiful, Severus. You should see how much she has grown!"

Hermione pushed herself off his lap and back into her seat. She shouldn't have been surprised that he changed the topic. It was hard for him… being vulnerable. He had come so far, though. He was a diamond in the rough who was having his sharp and jagged edges smoothed out every day. He was still the snarky and taciturn man that she adored, but she loved that she was the only woman who got to see the soft underbelly that he hid from the rest of the world. Perhaps Cecilia and Britt had seen a small touch of this part of him, and certainly Lucius had as well. In truth, Hermione felt like Lucius was the one person who still knew Snape better than she did. But that was slowly changing.

After nibbling on her sandwich a little more, she wiped her mouth and said, "I talked to Harry a bit. He's...he's started having nightmares again… you know, with Dolohov being on the loose and everything."

"Antonin is slippery. I'm not surprised they haven't apprehended him yet," Severus interjected with more than a small amount of irritation to his melodic voice.

"Yes, well, Harry says there is proof that Dolohov was in Russia when some of the attacks took place. So, now the Aurors are at an even bigger loss as to who is attacking these Muggleborn women."

Snape turned sharp eyes to her. "You are not to go out alone. You understand that, right?"

Not this again. "Severus...I - " Suddenly, the strong arm of her lover and Master grabbed her chair and spun it around.

"Nadu," he commanded as he stood, his eyes with a fire in them that gave her butterflies.

She knew she could say no, but something inside of her ignited. The submissive within her absolutely relished this. She gingerly maneuvered to her knees, surprised to find he had placed a cushioning charm on the floor beneath her.

"Look at me," he commanded, his tone still sharp.

When she met his stare, instead of seeing the ire and impatience she expected, she was met with a pained expression and charcoal irises that looked desperate. "Hermione, I am begging you, as your lover and as your Master, to do me this small favor. I realize you are a grown woman who is accomplished and strong and so fucking brilliant it leaves me in awe...but it only takes one second of being unaware. One minute of digging in your bottomless bag for a key or a book. You only need to be distracted momentarily to allow someone the opportunity to harm you." His voice dropped lower and softer and yet somehow was even more menacing as he continued, "You know that I know what I'm talking about. I've … I've done things Hermione, in that life that I'm trying to forget. Things that prove I know what I'm talking about. Don't choose this to be your soap box, love. Defy me. Please, defy me in any other way... except this."

Hermione's breath was already stuttered by his emotional plea, but when he fell to his knees before her and whispered, "It would destroy me if anything happened to you. Please don't destroy me, love. Not now that I've found you and discovered what I have been missing my entire adult life."

Hermione's vocal chords were frozen. She opened her mouth to speak but words just wouldn't form, instead she drew in a deep, unsteady breath and exhaled slowly. Reaching out to take his hand, she found a shaky voice as she whispered, "I promise not to go outside of work, my flat, or the club without another person with me. I'll use the floo and Apparition as much as possible. I already only go running with you, and I only go outside to go shopping and whatnot. I can do those things when you are with me. Or...well, I won't go out alone."

Snape's eyes were more fierce when he demanded,

"Myself, Potter, Weasley, Draco, or Lucius. Those are your choices. Just until they catch the killer. Tell me you agree."

Hermione nodded as a tear dropped down her cheek. It wasn't a tear of sadness. It was a tear of exquisite joy and absolute happiness. Because even though he hadn't said it, even though there hadn't been a showering of tea roses or a candlelit dinner when he uttered the words, even though he hadn't said the words specifically, Severus Snape had just told her he loved her.