Keogh

~***~

November 13th, 1978



“That tickles.”



Severus gave a smirk as he traced the outline of the oval shaped tattoo on the small of her back. It was not the first time he had made a study of it. She remained facing away from him, her bare back exposed all the way down, only a bed sheet draping her staring from about mid-way down the curve of her hip. “What’s the story behind this, anyway?”



She rolled over onto her stomach, her arms slipping up and underneath her pillow as she turned her sleepy eyes towards him. “What’s the story behind yours?”



His smirk died, but he took the hint to drop the subject. She knew he would not divulge the secrets behind the Dark Mark to her. It was for her own good, really. Instead he moved flat on his back and folded his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “You were gone for over a week.”



“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to check in with you.” She lifted her head up to peer at him. “You’re not trying to alter our arrangement, are you Severus?”



“Of course not.” No, he was not trying to alter the agreement. No emotional attachment. No strings. An easy enough promise to keep with a muggle when his heart was firmly somewhere else. Had Kathryn had the decency to be born a witch, however, it might be a different story altogether. Even without love, he would have pressed for marriage had she been a witch. Neither of them needed love at any rate. Kathryn was like him, cold inside. Perhaps even colder. She had no use for emotional entanglements. But the pair of them fit together well.



He felt the bed shift and lowered his arms as Kathy’s lean form came over him to straddle his hips. His hands moved to her sides, a thumb reaching out to trace the angry pucker of an old scar just below her ribs. Kathryn had several scars. Some he recognized as cuts from a blade. There were also a couple of round scars that looked to be from one of those guns that muggles used. Her body was a testament to just how strong and resilient the woman was, even if she did not talk to him about the altercations that had put those scars there.



Keeping Kathryn as a lover was akin to keeping a pet tiger. The beast may look and act tame most of the time, but there was always the danger that she would turn on you. That was Kathryn, even though she had never shown any violence towards him. The fact that she could was there in the tension of her muscles just beneath her skin. It was in the sharpness of the knives and blades she practiced with almost daily.



They had journeyed into London one night, the pair of them seeking out a bar where they could have a few strong drinks before going back to her flat. The night would not have been important save for the pair of men who had approached them, lust in their eyes and apparently under the mistaken belief that she would rather have them than remain with her current escort. Severus had been about to go for his wand when Kathy was suddenly no longer at his side. Instead, she was behind the smaller of the two men, a knife pressed to his throat, and the larger one on the ground, groaning and clutching his crotch in pain. Severus had never seen her move.



It was just one more of the little things that made him question just how ‘muggle’ she was.



His body came to attention with little effort on her part. His fingers trailed over her hips as she leveraged herself upwards and impaled body onto his. She was still not quite wet enough, and he was not a small man, but she liked it this way. Kathy always liked a little pain with her sex. Nothing too heavy or sadistic, but she did not mind if it he bit her hard enough to bruise or even break the skin a bit. He could make her purr by pulling her hair a bit too firmly.



She was almost perfect.



~***~



Severus was pulled out of his sleep by the sound of angry shouts and curses. His eyes flicked over to the mantle and he saw that it was only one in the morning. With a snarl he threw the covers of his bed aside and got up, pulling on his robe as he did so.



Oh, the trials of being Head of Slytherin House!



He stormed from his quarters through his office and ducked through the secret door behind a heavy tapestry. He was not actually that close to the student dorms, but some key enchantments were in place and meant to alert him to any problems. As he made his way down the spiral stone staircase and through another secret door that let out in an alcove on one side of the common room, a ‘problem’ was what he found.



Draco and Blaise were engaged in what could only be a full out brawl. Severus hovered behind the bust of Salazar Slytherin as his eyes moved over the scene, taking in the clues. Most of the students were still in their pajamas. Miss Parkinson was surrounded by her dorm mates, clutching her bed robe to her like a lifeline and trying to stifle her sobs with a hand to her mouth. Malfoy had Zabini pinned to the floor, but the darker boy was too busy laughing to feel threatened.



“It’s not like she’s even that good! Her mum was much better!”



Pansy gave a mortified wail, hiding her face in Miss Greengrass’ shoulder. Mr. Zabini had struck again.



“Draco! Blaise! Stop this at once!” His voice filled the common room. Most of the students sprung away, but Draco was too intent on murder to care. Severus stalked across the room and drug the boy up by the collar of his robe. “I said stop!”



Zabini smirked up at Malfoy as he casually picked himself up off the floor. He smoothed out his robe, retying the belt and acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He even sent a wink over to Miss Greengrass. From any other boy it would have been mere bravado. From a Zabini it was a clear ‘you’re next’.



That impotency potion was sounding more and more like a marvelous idea.



“Malfoy. Blaise. My office. Now!”



~***~



Hermione frowned at the red velvet curtains about her bed. “Excuse me?”



“I asked what it was that you wanted to learn?”



“I don’t understand.”



She heard Salazar chuckle. “It occurred to me that everything you study and learn is because others tell you to do so. The teachers set your course curriculum. You have mastered dueling and physical fighting because Kathryn insisted on it. You’re studying the animagus transformation because it’s felt by the Order that it could be useful for you to do so. No one, however, has asked what you would like to learn and master. I am rectifying that oversight.”



He was correct. No one had ever asked her what she, Hermione Granger, wanted to learn. It was a novel concept, but now that she was faced with it she had no idea. “I don’t know.”



“Consider it. I am certain something will come to you. I will be ready to listen once it does.”



She pulled herself out from the solitude of her bed and padded to the lavatory. Sure she could use the prefects’ bath, but she did not want to bother with getting completely dressed and walking all the way down there. Not in the morning. She might indulge in a leisurely bath, however, at the end of the day.



Cleaned and soon dressed, she packed the books she needed for the day into her satchel and made her way out of the tower. There was still a good hour or more left for breakfast before classes and her stomach was in full-blown snarl mode. Right now she might even be able to eat her Potions textbook and find it quite delectable.



Harry and Ron had saved her a seat at the Gryffindor table, waving her over when they saw her enter the Great Hall. Ron’s face broke into a large grin when he presented her with the last of the strawberry jam, which he had saved for her knowing it was her favorite. “Thank you, Ron.”



“Anything for our Hermione.” Still, he did snatch a bit of the jam for his toast, not that she minded. She spread some onto a slice for herself. It went wonderfully with scrambled eggs and bacon. Oh, and pumpkin juice was the perfect finishing touch. And she was not eating like a starved hippogriff. Honest!



“They won’t take the food away before you’re finished, Hermione.” Harry smirked at her as Ron sniggered around a mouthful of sausage. They always found it amusing how she could practically inhale her food while still maintaining decent manners.



“Stuff it.”



“Or you’ll what? Swear at us?” Ron reached for the pitcher, grinning.



“I don’t swear!”



“Oh, really? Well, Ron, we must have been hearing things at the Welcoming Feast.”



“I don’t know, Harry, sounded like swearing to me.”



She frowned at them. “What are you two on about?”



“What was it she said? I can’t quite remember.”



Harry screwed up his face as though trying to concentrate on something. “Y’know, Ron, it’s right on the tip of my tongue. Rather inventive, actually. Crap-Flame-Something-or-Other…”



Ron nodded. “Close, but I think it was more like Shit-Fire-Moth-Umph!”



Hermione and slapped her hand over Ron’s mouth before he could go any further. Had she really let that slip out where they could hear? “Not another syllable. I was in a state of shock and cannot be held accountable for my actions.”



Harry grinned. “We’re just surprised you know those words. Scandalous, coming from a prefect and all.”



“Shut it. Both of you.” She yanked her hand away when Ron licked her palm, wiping it dry on a napkin. “That’s gross.” He did not look one bit ashamed.



A screech drew their attention upwards as the morning owls arrived. They swooped over the tables, dropping letters, parcels and copies of The Daily Prophet down upon the students. Hermione caught her paper easily, opening it up and handing the sports section to Ron out of habit. That done, she propped the rest against the juice pitcher to read the front-page stories as she finished her breakfast. She did not get far, however, before she dropped her fork back into her eggs. “I don’t believe it.”



“Believe what?” Ron was marking on the page holding the Quidditch scores, making note of who would advance in the league. His quill paused, however, as he noticed a swell of whispering growing throughout the Great Hall.



“Look at this!” Hermione snatched up the paper and flattened it out for the other two to see. “Minister of Magic Appoints High Inquisitor for Hogwarts.”



Harry frowned. “High Inquisitor? That doesn’t sound pleasant, or like anything we want to happen. What’s this all about, then?”



Hermione was reading the printed lines very quickly. “That witch Fudge wanted to send to teach DADA, Delores Umbridge, he’s sending her on anyway to poke her nose into things. He’s citing concerns about the education being provided at Hogwarts and is giving her the authority to observe classes and made assessments of the teachers and their abilities.”



Ron blinked. Harry looked incensed. “That’s outrageous! Who does Fudge think he is, poking his nose in at Hogwarts?”



Hermione shook her head, but the voice inside was even more upset. “It’s tantamount to slapping the headmaster in the face! What does a politician know about education anyway? The Ministry has never interfered with this school! Hogwarts teaches the politicians, not the other way around!”



“It appears that they wish to change that practice. I knew Fudge was paranoid, but this is beyond ridiculous!” She made an irritated noise in the back of her throat and looked up at the head table. Professor Dumbledore was absent; a fact that just about everyone was taking note of. Turning about on her seat, Hermione looked over at the Hufflepuff table to find Cedric leaning forward and conversing with several of the older students, his expression serious. Clearly she, Harry and Ron were not he only ones concerned about this turn of events.



“Mione, you know what you said at the start of term about this being a long year?”



“What about it, Ron?”



“I think you’re dead on.”



She sighed. “I wish I weren’t. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

~***~