A Dark Secret
The night, usually a cacophony of clinking glasses and boisterous laughter, seemed eerily quiet. Hermione, though outwardly composed, felt a sense of unease. Her eyes darted across the bar, searching for any sign of disturbance.
Then, she spotted them: Severus, Lucius, and Draco seated in their usual corner. Relief washed over her. Their presence was a comforting anchor in the storm that was brewing.
"What brings you back, gentlemen?" she asked, a playful smile masking her inner turmoil.
Lucius, ever the charmer, replied, "To check on our lovely Hermione, of course. Isn't that right, Severus?"
Severus, however, remained his usual stoic self. "We had a meeting with a client and decided to unwind here," he explained.
Hermione accepted their order, her mind racing. Something felt amiss. A chill ran down her spine as she recalled the recent string of strange occurrences - the feeling of being watched, the subtle threats.
Later, as she was cleaning up behind the bar, her coworker, Brandt, tossed an envelope towards her. "Someone left this for you," he said.
Hermione's heart pounded as she recognized the handwriting. It was Roland's. With trembling hands, she excused herself and slipped into the alleyway.
She opened the envelope, her breath catching in her throat. Inside were a series of photographs - invasive, personal snapshots of her private moments. She had been violated, her sanctuary compromised. A wave of fear and anger washed over her. How had he managed to infiltrate her home?
Just as she was about to break down, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. Severus, his face etched with concern.
"Hermione, is everything alright?" he asked.
She turned to him, her eyes filled with tears. She handed him the envelope, her voice barely a whisper.
Severus's face hardened as he scanned the photographs. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. "Don't worry, Hermione," he said, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "We'll take care of this."
The warmth of Severus's embrace was a fleeting comfort. As he pulled away, Hermione felt the panic clawing its way back up her throat, a suffocating tightness in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Not here, not in front of him.
"Excuse me," she mumbled, escaping his concerned gaze and fleeing to the sanctuary of the ladies' room.
The cool tile floor and sterile scent of disinfectant offered little solace. She locked herself in a cubicle, the small space closing in on her. Her hands trembled as she fumbled in her purse for the small orange bottle, her lifeline in this moment of crisis.
With practiced efficiency, she emptied a few pills onto the mirrored compact, crushing them to a fine powder with the edge of a credit card. A rolled-up fifty-dollar bill served as her makeshift straw. One deep inhale, then another, until the bitter taste coated her tongue and the familiar numbness began to spread through her limbs. She even compulsively licked the mirror clean, desperate for any remaining residue.
The shaking subsided, her breathing slowed. The world seemed to soften at the edges, the harsh fluorescent lights dimming. She blinked, her eyes heavy-lidded, a glassy sheen over them. The mask was back in place, the cool, collected, sexy Mia ready to face the world once more.
She emerged from the cubicle, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. The bar, with its noise and crowds, seemed less daunting now. She could handle this. She had to.
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When Hermione returned to the table, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Severus, Lucius, and Draco were engaged in a hushed conversation, their faces etched with masked fury. Severus had clearly informed them of the disturbing contents of the envelope.
As she approached, Severus’s gaze swept over her, taking in the sudden shift in her demeanor. The relaxed posture, the glassy eyes – something wasn't right. He couldn't fathom what could have caused such a rapid change.
Lucius broke the silence. "Hermione," he said, his voice grave, "Severus has filled us in. We can't allow you to return to such danger."
Hermione, in her chemically-induced calm, actually snorted with laughter. "It's not like this is the first time this has happened," she let slip, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
The men's faces darkened.
"What exactly does that mean?" Severus pressed, his voice a low growl.
Hermione bit her lip, realizing her slip-up. "It means I've already had to move a couple of times in the past year because of Roland," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And change my number. There's just no escaping him."
Draco spoke up, his voice filled with concern. "Hermione, we can't in good conscience allow you back to your flat. It's not safe."
Hermione looked down at her feet, a wave of despair washing over her. "I have nowhere else to go," she confessed. "No family, no friends..."
Severus stepped closer, gently lifting her chin so their eyes met. "Hermione," he said, his voice firm yet gentle, "you have us. You can stay at our headquarters, where our labs are centrally located."
He sensed her hesitation, the ingrained reluctance to be a burden. "No buts," he said, cutting her off before she could protest. "End of discussion."
A flicker of surprise, then gratitude, shone in Hermione's eyes. In that moment, surrounded by these unlikely allies, a spark of hope ignited within her. Perhaps, just perhaps, she wasn't alone in this fight after all.