"Nicolas Scabior," the Interrogator of the Wizengamot started, reading off of a large scroll.

Scabior was standing, Hermione regarding the line of his profile.

"In the sentencing of Nicolas Scabior, it is the determination of the Wizengamot that it is in the best interest of the Wizarding World and society at large that he remain incarcerated in Azkaban prison for a total of twenty years."

Twenty years…

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she thought she saw Scabior blanch at the sentence. He drew in a breath slowly through his nose, trying to remain stoic.

"However, as Mister Scabior has familial obligations, some of an intimate nature, it is further the decision of this court that he be allowed no more than twenty days free from Azkaban per calendar year, in addition to two marital visits per year of one hour each, to be taken here in the Ministry at the sole discretion of Miss Granger."

Hermione's heart pounded wildly in her chest as she struggled to stay adrift when the entire world seemed as if it was tilting.

Twenty days?! It's nowhere near enough…

"These days may be taken as he sees fit. In order to be released, we require Mister Scabior to submit to the standard ankle irons, which suppress magic while outside of Azkaban."

Her eyes flitted back over to Scabior, who stood, unmoving. Her eyes traveled down the length of his arms and she noticed that his hands were clenched into tight fists. In profile, it was hard to read him. He looked so thoroughly and utterly uninterested she wondered if he had heard his sentence at all.

"The Petitioner is of course free to re-petition this Council in a year's time."

The Interrogator vanished the scroll from his hands and fixed his cool gaze over his spectacles on Scabior.

"Has Mister Scabior understood these proceedings correctly?"

Scabior clenched his jaw. "He has," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Hermione let out a breath slowly, her lips pursed as the Interrogator smirked at Scabior. He opened his mouth to speak again, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "And how are we to communicate to be able to determine when Mister Scabior takes his days?"

She was greeted with an equally cool gaze. Again, the look over those damned spectacles!

"That's entirely up to him, Miss Granger."

He then flicked his gaze over to two Wizards and nodded. They approached Scabior from either side.

"No…no!," she started, as they neared him.

"No!," Scabior panicked as he saw them approach. "I want to take my twenty days now, and altogether!"

The Interrogator turned back to the large group, as they shuffled papers, preparing for their next sentencing.

The Foreman shrugged his shoulders at the Interrogator, and he then said simply, "Let's get you into your jewelry, then."

Hermione stood, glaring daggers at the Foreman, "And before those twenty start, I'd like one of my marital visits…right now."

The Foreman this time approached Scabior and Hermione. He turned to her first. "I'll take you to one of the suites. They'll suppress his magic and bring him to you."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together as she looked at Scabior, his face still a mask of stone.

"Yes, thank you," she said to the Foreman. "I'll follow you."

She glanced over her shoulder as he led her away from Scabior. He looked after her as she was led down the long, black-tiled hallway. As she walked the hallway yawned and stretched and seemed to swallow her altogether. She turned back once more to see him staring after her intently, like she was his only remaining lifeline to sanity.

"Miss Granger?," the Foreman started. Hermione turned back.

"Yes…coming."

They walked around a corner, then another, then down a hallway so narrow she immediately wanted to turn back. Through that, the hallway opened up into a foyer-like room the size of the area for the lifts. There were four doors, each numbered, each at a side of this room. The Foreman stopped in front of room three, the farthest room in the back right of the foyer-like area. He turned towards her as he used his left hand to turn the door handle and push the door in, holding it open to her with his arm.

Hermione very nearly dreaded what she would find inside.

"Inside you'll find everything well appointed," the man started, raising his eyebrows at her in a motion for her to look around.

Hermione entered the small room and was surprised to find a simple, sparely made up bed in the back left corner. There were magicked windows looking out to a faux countryside and heavy burgundy curtains that could be drawn. There was a small table and two chairs in the back right. Everything looked clean and neat. As Hermione walked around she couldn't help but think it didn't look like what she was expecting. It was warm as opposed to sterile, complimented by a lit fire in the fireplace. As she turned she noticed a door. As if reading her thoughts a voice behind her made her jump.

"Yes that's the loo," then, seeing her startled, the man apologised.

Hermione turned towards him and nodded. "Thank you."

He nodded at her and began to pull the door closed. "If you need anything there is a button on the table. Press it and help will arrive. You'll hear a knock at the door at the hour. He should be brought to you here shortly."

With that he was gone.

Hermione looked around, placed her purse on the table and sat in one of the chairs. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She sat up straight, leaning back against the chair. It was hard to get comfortable and she was nervous. She was so nervous…

Her leg jiggled a bit as she finally decided to sit on her hands and wait until he arrived. They had much to discuss.

A knock came at the door.

"Yes?," she said, standing immediately.

"May we enter?". Hermione heard a voice she didn't recognize.

"Yes, you may come in," she said perfunctorily.

The door swung smoothly on its hinges, and Scabior, in his own clothes now, held by two men, appeared. Her heart went out to him. They released his arms and he jerked his elbows, freeing himself fully. He entered the door and closed it behind him immediately. He was almost afraid to turn and look at her; that if he did she'd somehow be a mirage and not truly there. So he turned slowly, his brows relaxing when he saw her.

It was the first good look she'd had of him. The same man, but a little shabbier, a little worse for wear. Her heart broke as she saw the emptiness in his gaze. He took a slow step towards her, then another. It was she who closed the distance, flinging herself into his arms and wrapping her arms around his back. Momentarily startled, Scabior's arms came up around her, holding her tightly.

She felt the tears fall then, and though she tried to quiet the snuffling noises she made, she was unable to. His hand came up to the back of her head and pressed it gently into his chest.

"Don't cry. Please don't."

Her voice broke then. She openly sobbed into his chest. "Twenty days is nothing! How are you going to get to do things with Rose? To see her grow? How are we to do this?! How can they do this?! This is horrible!"

His voice was so flat and emotionless when he spoke; it was so deliberate she though she could sense that he was holding himself back from feeling.

"I deserve it for what I've done. Before you, during… I made a lot of mistakes, and this is what happens-"

"This is not what happens!," she snapped her head up, incensed, still holding tightly to him. "You may have made mistakes in the past, but you are a different man now. A good man!"

They were face to face now and he saw the tears, the concern, the hurt and he brought his hand up to gently stroke her cheek and wipe away her tears.

Godric, it felt good.

It felt so nice to be comforted; to have someone to provide a little solace for her. Her life had become so unbearably difficult as of late and she was starved for a kind touch and a little affection.

"You very nearly did it, my little Gryffindor know-it-all," he said, his voice teasing, obviously trying to make light of a bad situation and diffuse the tension in the small room. His mouth pulled at the corner and she found her mouth lifting as well. He continued, "I can't believe you spent all that time…trying to figure out how to petition for me. I won't forget it…ever."

He was cupping her face in his hands now and he ran a thumb over her lips as her eyelids fluttered closed and she parted her lips. She sighed as the rough pad of his finger grazed her sensitive flesh.

"I've missed you," she said quietly. "We both have."

"I have missed you more than words can say, beautiful," he said, his hands slowly made their way down the sides of her neck.

Hermione realized suddenly her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides as she felt the stirrings of want deep in her body. She looked into his eyes and he was there again. Him. No emptiness, but heat and that fire that she loved the most about him. Their blue was deeper; more vibrant somehow and she was standing so close she could see her reflection in his eyes. She felt so naked that she trembled.

"You'll meet Rose-," she started, her voice faltering, as she backed up a step.

"Yes." He took a step in to her, following.

"She's waiting with a friend. I-I thought you might be able to see her." Her back hit the wall of the room and she, surprised, let out a hushed "Oh-,"

"I will," he said, advancing on her again.

"I'm…I'm a little nervous," she started, her hands going behind the small of her back as she stood against the wall.

"Don't be," he said, hovering for a second before his mouth closed over hers.

His kiss was soft, yet firm…gentle, yet hard. His kiss was sublime. She moaned into him as he pressed his body against hers, coaxing his thigh between her legs. He pulled back and looked at her as his eyes ran from her forehead to her lips and down. His hand came up to the dress, to the tiniest edging of lace that ran along the bust and he fingered it, teasing along her sensitive skin.

"I like this," he very nearly whispered, his fingers ghosting from the outer edge of the lace to the buttons that started down the middle. "Is this all for me?," he said, his voice soft and sure.

Hermione nodded as she felt her hips hitch wantonly against his thigh, surprising herself. She gasped at the sensation. He was so close she felt him when he chuckled, darkly. His hands flicked the buttons, one at a time, slowly unbuttoning to the waist, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Not to worry, my lovely," he started, his hand brushing past the fabric to rest on her bare waist. "I'll not leave you needy and wanting-"

"We have a lot to discuss-," she started, as his mouth went to the side of her neck, to her pulse point, and sucked hard.

She forgot her name, crying out as her legs buckled and she fell forward on him, into his arms as he rocked up against her. Her hands clawed at his jacket and he dropped it, letting it fall from his shoulders.

Then she wasn't sure who moved or what happened but she was clawing his shirt off as he threw her dress over her head and pushed her down onto the bed.

He was over her in an instant, towering, making her feel small and powerless; completely at his mercy.

His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in as she stretched out; her lacy, light blue bra and matching knickers all that separated her from nakedness.

"I've definitely missed this," he said before halting for a moment, his eyes shining with concern. "I won't hurt you, will I?," he asked. Hermione shook her head no as she reached behind removing her bra and then guiding his hand down to the line of her underwear. As she pushed his hand and the elastic down, she showed him the scar.

"They…they took her out this way.," she explained, speaking softly. "You won't hurt me." And then, even more softly, "Just an ugly scar for you to have to look at."

His brows knitted together in concern as he pressed down on her lower stomach gently. She relaxed against the bed as he brought his other hand up to pull her knickers off and then lowered his mouth and began kissing along the scar.

"You think," he started, kissing across the scar, "that I….am bothered….by this?"

He looked up at her, resting his chin so low on her that he was so close to her…..

She licked her lips as the back of her hand involuntarily came up near her mouth.

"Aren't you?"

He gave her that smirk that turned her into a quivering heap and placed a final kiss to the middle of the scar.

"Here…let me show you…"