Two weeks after their strange exchange, Severus found himself at the tavern in Knockturn Alley drinking his sorrows away. He really should have been at home, but there wasn't any hard liquor at the house, and none was to be bought at that hour save for at the seediest of taverns.

Twenty five years. Two and a half decades ago on that very night, Lily had lost her life. Had she lived, she would have been just three short months away from celebrating her forty-seventh birthday. But no. Lily was dead. Betrayed by one of her closest friends, slaughtered in her home. Cut down for trying to defend her infant son. They were memories he didn't want to have. Ones he couldn't stand to remember but nor could he bear to forget.

The barkeep tapped the filthy counter to get Severus' attention and then jerked an even filthier thumb at the sign on the wall. Last Call, it flashed. He pushed away from the bar and found himself surprisingly unsteady on his feet. Had he already paid for his drinks? Since the bartender wasn't glaring at him, he assumed he had. As he made his way to the street, he allowed himself the privilege of feeling sorry for himself. So rarely did he indulge in self-pity that it was a special treat. For once in his blasted life he wanted comfort. He wanted someone to hold him and tell him that everything would be alright. He wanted all the things that his sober mind would reject out of hand. His mind went to H and the haven to be found between her thighs.

For a moment, he stood on the street considering whether it was a wise idea to attempt to apparate to Ireland. He certainly wasn't sober enough to fly. The Knight Bus likely wouldn't stop for him. Fuck it, he thought sourly. If he got splinched then let it put him out of his misery.

He landed on hands and knees in the peony bush out front. Sputtering flower petals, he stumbled inside and forced himself to look at least somewhat composed as Madam Peony came to see what all the commotion was about. Used to his abrupt appearances, she waved him up the stairs without a word. She didn't see the way he wavered going up the steps because she was too busy staring, aghast, at her rumpled peony bush through the window.

She hadn't gotten the notification of a customer, but S took so long trying to get the door open that Hermione had plenty of time to get her anonymity charm on before he got inside. As soon as she got within a foot of him, the smell of booze hit her. The reek of alcohol was sweetened by cinnamon and clover. Firewhiskey and...schnapps?

"H," he breathed into her face and she had the grace not to blanch. He tangled one hand into her hair, pulled her against him, and kissed her full on the mouth. She was so surprised that she just stood there for a moment, letting the taste of spice wash over her. He'd never kissed her on the lips before. As his tongue thrust into her mouth she realized that even though he was drunk, he wasn't a sloppy kisser. It was a pleasant revelation, considering most men that came in drunk couldn't help but slobber all over her. Tentatively, she rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed him back. He moaned into her mouth and backed her up until her knees hit the bed and they tumbled down onto it.

She'd been in her nightshirt, ready for bed when he'd come in and she hadn't had time to change it. His free hand slid over the worn material and raised it up to expose the juncture of her thighs. "You look beautiful in this," he purred slowly. Beautiful? Just how drunk was he? "And this...this is exquisite." He palmed her sex and teased the tight opening there before slipping a finger inside. He took her mouth again, thrusting his tongue in time with his hand. It took a minute before Hermione could enjoy the attention, her body adjusting to the unexpected digit. But his finger curled slowly, stroking her from the inside, and a rush of wetness eased the passage. He broke the kiss as he withdrew his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and putting his finger inside. He closed his lips around it and sucked, pulling it out slowly and savoring the taste of her on his tongue.

Hermione was surprised to find that the erotic gesture made her even wetter. She tried to tell herself that her body had just become preconditioned to respond to him, but she knew that somehow, despite all her years selling sex, the simple wickedness of that act, done by him, was enough to arouse her. When he fumbled unbuttoning his trousers, she helped him get them down, moving aside the placket and drawing his erection out. He shifted his hips so he was pressed against her, but when he pushed forward the head of his cock slipped up and caught between them. Frustrated, he pulled back and tried again, this time succeeding in spearing her. "You feel so good," he growled in her ear. "Have I ever told you just how much I love feeling your cunt squeezing around my cock? I could fuck you all night and never be satisfied."

Why were his coarse words arousing her? She'd been slurred at by drunk men before. She'd had obscenities whispered to her as a John pumped into her. Never had the words had any effect on her, except perhaps to perturb her. But from S's mouth, the filthy words dripped like sweet praise and she reveled in them. "Tell me what you want, H," he whispered. "Do you want me to slide down your throat? Do you want me to fuck those perfect tits of yours? Or should I turn you over and take your pretty little arse?" When she didn't respond right away he paused in his thrusting, making her moan in frustration. "Tell me," he insisted.

"This!" she cried. "Just keep doing what you're doing!"

"Good girl," he praised, resuming his slow pistoning. "Does that feel good?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly, startled at how quickly and intensely aroused she had become. "Yes, more." When her arms wrapped around him, it seemed as if something within him broke. His thrusts became erratic and his lips crashed against hers desperately. She strained to meet him stroke for stroke but couldn't match his rhythm. Before she could get any closer to orgasm, he came with a hoarse cry.

As he caught his breath and let his body weight press her to the mattress, Hermione reminded herself not to be disappointed. It wasn't his responsibility to make her come. The fact that it happened at all was a miracle in itself, and she couldn't start getting upset when he didn't. Even still, her body was thrumming with unfulfilled desire. She fought to keep her hips from undulating against him like a wanton.

Perhaps the orgasm had cleared some of the drink induced haze in his mind, or perhaps he had simply become attuned to her body, but Severus noticed the flush hadn't abated from her cheeks and her nipples were still purled with excitement. He'd finished and left her on edge. A wicked grin curled his lips. "I didn't get you your satisfaction, did I, kitten?"

"Being with you is satisfying enough," she replied automatically. His face darkened and he snapped at her.

"Don't. Lie. To me."

She flinched back from his abrupt change and managed to shrug her shoulders. "I didn't come, no."

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you, kitten?" He was still semi-hard, and thrusting shallowly into her. His anger had dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak without begging him to let her come. "A reward for your honesty, then. Let me oblige you." He slid out of her but put a finger to her lips at her cry of frustration. "Trust me," he whispered. Then he nestled his waning erection into the folds of her sex and trapped it there tightly with one hand. They were both so slick that when he shifted his hips, he easily slid up and over her clit. She bucked up against him helplessly. He kept his cock fitted tightly against her and started thrusting as if he was fucking her, but each ingress pushed the head of him up and over her clit, making her nearly sob with pleasure.

It only took two more strokes and she was there, coming with nearly violent fervency. Her heels dug into the mattress as she strained up against him, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together to wring every last ounce of pleasure from the orgasm. Finally she relaxed against the bed, utterly spent.

"That...that was..." she searched for a word, but failed to find one that wasn't trite. She used it anyways. "Amazing."

"No lies," he reminded her tightly. She didn't have the energy to argue with him so she simply waved his accusation away.

"Oh shut up and let me enjoy this." The sheets were damp from their sweat and she didn't even care. Severus wanted to be perturbed at her telling him to 'shut up,' but couldn't muster the indignation. He laid beside her and brushed her hair off her forehead. They lay in quiet companionship for a long while before she ventured to ask, "what brought on the drinking?"

He paused before answering, still tipsy but not so much so that he would slip up and reveal the whole story. "The anniversary of an old friend's death."

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. He tried to shrug.

"It was a long time ago."

"He must have meant a lot to you for it to bother you so much after all this time, then."

He didn't bother correcting her mistake at the gender of his friend. "You're right." There wasn't anything else she could say, so Hermione only snuggled closer to him and pressed a soft kiss against his chest. He resolutely ignored the tightness that accompanied her tender gesture. Then she started to giggle and he looked down at her with a mock glare. "What's so funny?"

"Just look at the state of your clothes," she gestured to his shirt half off and hanging open, his trousers only halfway down his legs, and the one shoe that had somehow gotten knocked off in their urgency. Normally so fastidious about his clothes, Severus could only gape at himself for a moment. She giggled again and the sound was a balm to his soul. His lips quirked into a grin despite his best effort to fight it.

"Shut up," he said lamely before joining her in laughter.

/

The shackles had actually come to him innocently. Well, perhaps not totally innocently, as they had been handed to him by a tavern owner who had likely used them to restrain more than one unscrupulous drunk over the years. Because the man was a squib, he used them instead of a binding spell, but the results were just as effective. Still, after one particularly large customer had blackened the owner's eye when he tried to wrestle the drunkard into them, he had decided perhaps it was time to have them enchanted to attach by themselves.

It wasn't normally Severus' line of work, but considering the tavern gave him some of his best business, he didn't mind. Thinking of the shackles, however, had turned his mind to H, and what it would be like to have her tied up and at his mercy. His cock had hardened so painfully at the mere thought that he'd visited Madam Peony's that very night, shackles tucked inside his robes.

When he'd gone upstairs and pulled them out, Hermione had unconsciously touched the inside of her forearm, checking that her wand was readily available, before giving him a smile and an easy, "sure."

He was excited enough that he didn't stop to ask her about the gesture, but took note of it. It wasn't until they'd both come twice and the shackles were hanging loosely on the bedpost that he brought it up again. He tapped the spot where her wand rested, invisible to the naked eye.

"Clever," he praised. "I've never seen one attached and cloaked like this. What made you think of it?" She pulled it off and toyed with her wand as she thought about what to say. He'd made it clear to her many times that he hated lying of any kind. But really, he didn't want to hear the story.

"Just cautious," she started, then stopped when he glared at her. She tried redirection. "You really don't want to hear this story. Why don't we try those shackles again...this time on you?" His eyes widened at her suggestion before he ordered his mind to focus.

"You still think you can make me blush?" He cocked one arrogant brow at her. "Hardly."

"Fine," Hermione acquiesced haughtily. "But don't say I didn't warn you. It was my first month, and I had a customer who I'd serviced once or twice before. He'd been drinking, which wasn't unusual, but he wanted me on my hands and knees, which was unusual." S grimaced and Hermione fought back her satisfied smile. She'd warned him, after all. "He started, and then I felt magic behind me and tried to turn but it felt like he had a knife at my throat." The smile faded as the stark memory hit her. "Then I felt the fur. He'd changed to his Animagus form. A cougar. He had his fangs right here." She pointed at the vulnerable part of her throat where her pulse throbbed. A small, white dot that he almost missed resided there as a permanent reminder of the encounter. "I couldn't move. When I tried to reach for my wand, he started to bite. It was right there," she pointed to the nightstand less than a foot away, "but totally out of my reach. I thought he was going to kill me. But he just...finished...and then turned back." She faltered, lost in the terrible memory, but then came back to herself. She forced a smile. "Madam Peony tossed him out on his arse, of course. But after that I figured I should never have my wand out of my reach again.

Severus clenched and unclenched his fists slowly. He breathed steadily through his nose and counted to twenty before he was certain he wouldn't fly into a rage. The images of what she described played over and over in his mind like an old film, projected in gruesome clarity. He could practically feel her terror at the situation, having to let him do what he wanted to her, knowing he could kill her at any moment. She'd been raped by an animal in the most literal sense. "That-" his voice cracked and he was forced to clear his throat before he could start again. "That explains your rules about bestiality." He tried to sound blasé and failed.

"Not that I had any particular eagerness for it before that, but yes." She shuddered unconsciously. "I-" her eyes closed and she shook her head. "Never again." With effort, she cleared the memory from her mind and smiled. "And I can make sure of that with my wand right here." She clipped it back into it's spot and tapped it once to cloak it again. Severus ignored her false cheer and pulled her against him, tucking her back against his chest. Very softly, he pressed his lips to the small scar on her neck. When she shivered again, this time it was in delight at the feel of his gentle touch.

For a long time they simply laid together like that. The story ran on a loop in Severus' head, reliving it over and over. Seeing her get on her knees, then the bastard transforming, keeping her pinned helplessly in place with his fangs while he violated her. For the first time, he realized how small she felt against him. He was six foot and nearly dwarfed her. She couldn't have been more than 5'4. Though she was curvy, she wasn't heavy. Certainly not big enough to stand a chance against a 220 pound cougar. The impotent rage swamped him again and he tightened his arms around her, his fingers finding hers and twining with them.

Hermione didn't understand exactly what was going through S's mind, but she could guess. Though she didn't want or need his pity, it made her feel...cherished, as stupid as that was, that he would be so enraged on her behalf. She was just a whore, after all. Still, the feeling was there. She let herself be engulfed in his arms and thought of how grateful she was that he'd picked her that first day. Softly, she started to sing a Latin song her mother had taught her years ago. By the time she finished, S had relaxed behind her. He nuzzled her neck. "You have a beautiful voice," he murmured.

"Thank you. I don't sing much anymore, but I used to enjoy it quite a bit. I was in-" she stopped, realizing with a jolt that she'd been about to say the Halloween choir every year at Hogwarts. She never revealed personal details of her life to customers. Never. "I was interested in it for a while, but not any more."

Severus missed the reason for her slip completely, thinking she had stopped to compose herself. He could guess why she stopped singing. What cause could she have to sing in a place like this? He thought again about the unspoken deadline drawing closer and was reminded once more that he was no longer resentful of it, but grateful. She would be free of this place. Selfishness reared it's ugly head and he wished there was a way to keep her for himself. He had no doubt that if the opportunity presented itself he would take it without second thought. But since that wasn't an option, he was glad that at least she would be away from situations like the Animagus or having to service sadists.

After a while, Hermione shifted and her ass rubbed over Severus' cock. It sprang to attention. Without moving, Severus pushed his hips forward until he slipped inside her. Slowly he rocked into her, not working toward an orgasm, merely enjoying the feeling of her. She raised her hand behind her and slipped it into his hair. They stayed like that until the sun had risen. She was almost asleep as he slid from her body, slipped from the bed, and left the brothel.