Day 1/2 -- Part II

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this piece of fiction.

A/N: Thank you to x_weasley for all her help and hand-holding. And thank you to Melusin, who agreed to beta this chapter.

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Day 2 – 3:16am – Morgue.

"Row three, column twelve."

Severus and Hermione crossed the marble floor of the Morgue to a wall almost entirely covered in large, silver drawers. Severus twisted the handle as Hermione pulled, their joint efforts just about managing to release the lock from its stiff hinges and allowing the drawer to slide open in a single, smooth motion. The woman was still the same as ever, only now sporting the hastily stitched marks of a Y-incision.

Muggle butchery at its best.

Severus leant forward, his latex-sheathed fingers pulling gently at the heavily bruised tissue around the neck wound to give Hermione a better look. The grey-tinged skin was cold beneath his fingertips, and Severus suppressed a shudder of distaste. No matter how many times he'd done it, how many times he'd helped out on those long nights in the Morgue, the feel of dead flesh always managed to make his skin crawl.

"The wound's deep," she stated simply, her eyes flicking down to the rest of the cloth-covered body. Severus pulled back the startlingly white material, careful not to jar any of the dead woman's frozen limbs.

Bruises, a deep purple, had blossomed over her body post-mortem. These were in the deeper tissue and would probably have been the sign of serious internal damage had the woman still been alive. They spread extensively over her stomach and thighs, most vivid over the curve of her hips. A bruise lay upon each shoulder, the tell-tale pattern of handprints prominent.

"These weren't here yesterday," murmured Severus, tracing the purple patterns with his index finger.

"Signs of a struggle, perhaps. Maybe Eleanor fought back." She leant closer, nudging Severus out of the way with her elbow. "The hand prints are off." She placed her hand over one of the bruises, twisting it until it fitted the pattern. Her fingers pointed down towards the woman's torso, her palms across the top of the shoulders. Hermione's brow furrowed. "Her attacker came from behind, which makes me wonder how she acquired those bruises across her lower body. If anything, the bruises should be on the backs of her thighs, not the front."

"But why grab her by the shoulders? Surely it would have been easier to grab her by the neck, if killing was the intention?"

Severus watched as Hermione crossed her arms, clearly deep in thought.

"Got something?" he asked.

"Maybe," she murmured, but said nothing more on the subject.

They worked in silence for the next fifteen minutes or so, both busy searching the body for some clue as to her killer. Disheartened after finding nothing, they were about to give it up as a bad job when the large, stainless steel doors that lead into the Morgue opened.

"Why are you here when I've been looking for you in the lab?" Luna, dressed in her Muggle-style lab coat, blinked owlishly at the pair. She didn't wait for a reply, shaking her head, radish earrings swinging furiously with the movement. "No matter. I've found you now. I've got something you might be interested in."

"The bruising?" asked Hermione. "We've seen it. It doesn't help us much. Just gives us part of a 'How'."

"No. Something far more interesting than silly old bruises. With the amount of Hirudin in her system, they could be purely coincidental." Luna held up a brown envelope, beaming widely. "I found a short blond hair in the wound tract during my exploration. It has to be the killer's. The hair was left after the throat was slashed, and the paramedic who pronounced it had brown hair."

"And does it match to anything else?"

"Yes. The hair is a match to the sperm sample we found."

"We have the killer and the lover."

"Yes, we do."

---

Day 2 – 8:56am – Evidence Lab

It had been time-consuming and utterly pointless, not to mention horrendously expensive.

None of the players were a match for the mystery killer.

Severus sighed heavily, setting yet another negative autorad down on the stainless-steel table, the barcode-like pattern on the x-ray film standing out against the silver, mocking him. It had taken three precious hours of the shift to profile each team member and nearly as long to run each DNA set against that of the killer. And that was with both himself and Hermione working at burn-out-rate.

Out of the seven collected (eight if you factored in the coach's DNA), only four flagged up enough markers to show distant relation to the killer. And even then it was relatively little help. All four were purebloods. And heaven knows they're almost too inbred to function.

"Here."

Severus glanced up, taking the hot cup of coffee Hermione offered him. He cradled it gently in his hands, warming his fingers out of comfort rather than cold. Steam wafted up from the dark liquid, bringing with it the satisfying aroma of freshly ground beans. He inhaled deeply, a lazy smile just touching the corners of his lips. Working for the Ministry seemed to have done wonders for his temperament; he found himself content here and often allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, though usually when he thought no-one was watching. A fearsome reputation was a handy thing, and the Bat of the Dungeons (or in this case, ex-Bat) couldn't afford to be seen as anything other than truly terrifying.

"Was that Ron's autorad?" asked Hermione, hiding behind her cup. She was nervous, though, trying her best to hide it.

"Yes." He placed his free hand on top of hers, drawing it and the cup down until it was resting firmly on the table top. Her skin was burning to the touch, and it took almost all his willpower not to recoil, scared of the feelings she was igniting in him. "And it's not a match. Markers and RFLPs were different. He was telling the truth. He's innocent."

The smile she gave him made his stomach flip. Tears wetting her eyes, face bright and beaming, she let go of her cup, lacing her fingers between his. "I knew it."

"And so, it seems, are the other players. No matches, whatsoever." He sighed heavily. "It seems like we're back to square one – no suspect, limited evidence and no eyewitnesses."

Her face sobered slightly. "Not quite square one, Severus, though not far off. We know who it's not. It's not a woman. And it's not one of the players, or the coach." She pursed her lips, thinking. "What about another man connected with Eleanor? Someone who has access to her records, perhaps?"

"Nothing came up when the killer's DNA profile was put through the National Database. Which means it's neither a Ministry worker nor a member of the Public Sector. That rules out that theory, I'm afraid."

"Unfortunate, but it does narrow it down to about forty percent of the wizarding population or so. Still a wide search area, though. It's not feasible."

"Forty percent's not feasible, but what about twenty percent?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking at Severus curiously. He elaborated. "The killer's a male with size twelve feet, which, by my estimation, means he'd be just under 6'2" in height if we work by the law of averages. Add to that the fact that the hair Luna found was blond, and we narrow the field further."

"But it's still no help. There are hundreds of men out there that fit that description."

"Maybe Malfoy will get something. If we cross reference his lists with the evidence we've collected, we could get a couple of hits. Who knows, we might even get lucky first time."

Hermione smiled a little at that, their interlaced fingers forgotten.

---

Day 2 – 7:32am – The Bay Horse

Zacharias Keddle's inn sign showed a majestic bay stallion rearing up on its back legs. The inn stood opposite the shabby-looking Post Office in the middle of a sleepy northern village. Its tatty, slightly peeling façade wasn't much to look at, and the grimy windows prevented one from seeing much of the interior.

The heavy brass knocker on the front door was shaped like a hand with a closed fist. It glinted softly in the light of the street lamps, the only dab of colour on the black door. Muggle teens often dared each other to touch it, but those who ventured to do so were left with a strange mark on the tip of their index finger.

But it disappeared within a matter of hours. Zacharias wasn't a cruel man.

Once inside, the view was completely different. The interior, lit by the fire that burned in the grate, was a friendly mixture of light and dark. A mismatch of tables and chairs were dotted around the inn, rising like islands from a sea of Persian carpet. Frescoes of great battles and daring deeds adorned the walls, enchanting in their detail, begging to be looked at just a little closer. The scent of good wine and cigarette smoke hung heavy in the warm air, making it all the more enticing.

Zacharias Keddle stood behind his bar. A tall man with a well-rounded stomach, he watched his clientele with warm, brown eyes. His jovial face, creased with lines of both age and laughter, was flushed red with the heat. Long silver hair fell down his back, shining in the little light, and he looked very much the part of a wizard.

Keddle's inn was frequented by those witches, wizards and Squibs that lived on the fringes of magical society. It was a welcoming place and served a decent pub lunch. And people returned to it with pleasure and astounding frequency, but it didn't get a mention in any of the local guide books.

Not bad for Wednesday morning, thought Keddle. A few guests lounged in overstuffed armchairs, drinking cups of aromatic coffee – Keddle's special blend, naturally – and gorging on a variety of foodstuffs. The inn never closed since the majority of its clientele seemed to work the most irregular hours, and in accordance, was staffed in shifts, though Keddle spent little time in bed. The inn was his life.

Severus pushed the door of the inn open. A few heads turned. Severus, despite his 'celebrity' status, had few contacts within the wizarding world these days and not because he'd been fired from Hogwarts. Half the people in this room were from the Ministry; the other half researched up-and-coming theories or wrote novels, and even included a fortune teller whose predictions were no more accurate than Trelawney's. It was just that Severus was choosy about his friends.

He crossed the room, Malfoy and Hermione in tow, and went round behind the bar to greet Keddle.

"Severus, lad!" bellowed the landlord fondly, clapping a broad hand around his shoulder. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Severus coloured lightly as he heard the others begin to snicker. Choosing to ignore the pair rather than, as his inner child had suggested, stick his tongue out at them, he returned Keddle's greeting with a friendly nod.

"I would have thought it more the other way round," he said with a sly grin.

Keddle winked at him before turning to the rest of the group. His sharp eyes took in the pair before him, assessing them like he would a bottle of vintage wine.

"A Malfoy, if I'm not mistaken," he said, extending his hand in a gesture of welcome.

Malfoy took it without hesitation, introducing himself fully to the wizard. "Draco Malfoy. And it's a pleasure to meet you."

The landlord's eyebrows rose a fraction before he replied with a carefully bland, "quite."

He turned to Hermione next. Keddle captured her hand, drawing it to his mouth. He placed a small kiss on her palm in a gallant gesture. Hermione blushed prettily.

"Zacharias Keddle at your service, my dear lady," said the landlord, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Charmer," muttered Severus, folding his arms and smirking.

"I deny nothing." He beamed at Hermione. "And what might a beauty such as yourself be called?"

"Hermione Granger," she said, smiling back. Keddle's good humour was infectious, it seemed.

"Ah," he gasped, "Shakespeare. Midwinter's Tale, if I'm not mistaken. A particular favourite of mine."

Keddle drew back, straightening his care-worn robes. "A table for three, I take it?" he asked Severus, rubbing his hands gleefully when he replied with a nod. "Excellent."

-----

"So, you're thinking this blood's feline?"

Severus watched as Malfoy sat back in his chair, folding his arms gently. His blond hair, a little too long in the fringe, flopped forward, and he had to shake his head to clear it from his vision. Keddle had seated them in one of the more secluded areas of the inn – in a quiet corner lit by gently burning candles held in the necks of empty wine bottles. It was peaceful and without distraction; the perfect place to talk.

"From the missing Leopard, yes. The Ouchterlony test came back not-human, and the leopard seems to be the most likely candidate for the blood donor," said Severus, taking a sip of his tea.

They'd ordered breakfast, or, in their case, dinner, a little over a minute ago, and the first of the morning's refreshments had already made their way to the table. Keddle was renowned for his tea – pure Darjeeling and brewed to perfection. A good cup of tea, his father had once said, was the cure for all ills. And though Severus highly doubted it was true, he did enjoy a cup or two of Keddle's best. He closed his eyes a little, savouring the taste.

"But isn't that a little too convenient?"

"Perhaps. But the majority of killers are not known for their astounding intelligence. Why connect the two?" He sat back, crossing his legs in a dignified manner. "Because the likelihood of two crimes committed in the same area with a link, however tenuous, between them spells not coincidence. It spells conspiracy, and in this case, murder. Murder begets murder, Malfoy. And it is more likely than not that the Leopard killing was a warm up for something far more sinister."

"Like the killing of Eleanor Bones," murmured Hermione, picking at a button on the front of her shirt.

Severus' eyes were drawn to the tiny movement, and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away. His pulse quickened as he took in the fullness of her figure; the way her breasts stretched the front of her shirt, the tapering of her waist before flaring into the sweet curve of her hips; the way she was looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes, frowning slightly.

Severus flushed, snapping his eyes away in embarrassment. He coughed, mortified to be caught ogling her figure. In a hasty decision to avoid confrontation, he kept his eyes firmly focused on the table before him.

"Besides, where else could the blood have come from? It's not like we have any other leads on the case at all – apart from that hair Luna found."

"Hair?"

"Luna found a short, blond hair in the wound tract. It has to belong to our killer since it was deposited after the slashing, and the paramedic who pronounced it was a brunette." Severus gave Malfoy a sharp look. "And before you ask, the skin tag doesn't match any of the players' DNA, but it does match the sperm collected. Our lover is also our killer."

"It has three markers in common with four of the players and four markers in common with the Seeker, Adrian Nott," said Hermione, "but that means nothing. They're all purebloods and, no offence, Draco, as inbred as yourself. All we know is that it was committed by someone with close ties to the Family of Nott. Which could be almost any pureblood going."

"Or half-blood with pure ancestry," said Severus.

"Well, if it helps, the lists I compiled contain a Nott. One Ellis Nott, to be exact. Buys his heart medication from Black's Apothecary just on the outskirts of Preston. Could be the connection we're looking for." Malfoy sucked on his teaspoon, removing the last of the sugar with his tongue in a show of bad manners. "A fourth cousin twice removed – from my father's side, naturally – I believe. Very distant, even in the realms of pureblood."

Severus was about to reply when the main course arrived, the house special: a thick slice of gammon accompanied by roasted potatoes, mixed vegetables and stock gravy. Severus dug into his meal with enthusiasm.

"I hate to admit it, Draco, but you do seem to have your uses," said Hermione, busily smothering a thick knob of butter over her potatoes.

"I know." He nudged her with his elbow, shooting her a friendly grin. "And it just kills you all to admit you just couldn't do without me."

"True," commented Severus, his expression one of carefully schooled nonchalance. "We'd have no-one to do all the donkey work."

Hermione laughed, taking a sip of her tea. "Scutter-bot boy."

Malfoy and Severus frowned in confusion. Clearly it was a Muggle thing.

---

The main meal was eaten with much relish and little conversation, finishing the dish taking priority over case notes. Severus sighed and leant back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest and his face the very picture of contentment. Eating at the Bay Horse always put him in a good mood, whether the company be Keddle himself or someone entirely different.

Draco excused himself to the gents, having had a little more to drink than was entirely prudent and beginning to feel the effects. Once he was gone, Severus cast a lazy glance over at Hermione, who met his gaze with a friendly smile.

"I take it this place meets with your approval."

"Oh, it's lovely." She leant her chin on her palm. "Though I'd never imagine you to be on such friendly terms with the proprietor."

"Zacharias is an old acquaintance. I spent many an afternoon here in my youth listening him tell his tall tales. Don't let him fool you: the old goat knows far more than he lets on. He's as sharp as you and me, if not more so." He narrowed his eyes a little, smirking. "And it seems he's taken somewhat of a shine to you. You'll never be rid now, you understand."

Hermione laughed. "He's so very dear. I haven't seen that amount of charm in a man since Lockhart."

"Which is all fine and dandy if you prefer flattery to intelligent conversation. Lockhart was decidedly lacking in that department, for all his charisma. Though, I must admit, he had a certain talent for Memory Charms."

Hermione snorted into her cup, her eyes shining. "That's just sour grapes, Severus."

"Excuse me?" he said with mock incredulity. "I can be very charming when I put my mind to it."

"I'm sure you can," she said airily, teasing him. It was a challenge, and Severus could never resist a challenge.

He winked at Hermione, the corners of his mouth curving into a small smirk. Taking her hand in his, he began the first assault.

"Glad we concur. Though it makes me wonder whether you will be able to resist my charm once I unleash it."

"Why? Dangerous, is it?" The teasing tone was still there, but her eyes held more than amusement.

"Exceedingly. I am a master in the art of flattery, my dear."

"Then flatter me. Show me your talent."

Severus let his fingers wander from her hand, caressing the smooth skin on the inside of her wrist. Hermione drew in a steadying breath and began to reciprocate, stroking the pale skin that lay just under the sleeve of his jacket. Severus barely managed to suppress a moan. The contact was electrifying. Emboldened by her move, he continued, lowering his voice to a silky smooth purr.

"If the lady wishes." He gave her a sly wink. "But where to start? Everything about you is intoxicating. Even the scent of you. It makes me want to touch you. To run my fingers across the perfect skin of your collarbone. To kiss you."

He rose from his chair, releasing Hermione's hand and circling the table until he stood behind her. His mind screamed at him to stop, to quit whilst he was still ahead, but he didn't. He leant into Hermione's personal space, brushing back her fall of curls with a trembling (damn it) hand and exposing her neck. His fingers brushed against the delicate skin, and he felt her shiver, watching with fascination as her skin pebbled. He heard her breath hitch a little, and before he could think the better of it, he placed a light kiss just below her ear.

"I told you I could be charming," he whispered, the words slightly huskier than he'd intended. Even if the contact wasn't affecting her, it was definitely affecting him.

And that brought him back down to earth with a bump. All the confidence he'd possessed in the face of her challenge deserted him. With little ceremony, he let her hair drop and stumbled back to his seat. He was horrified at what he'd done. That he'd let himself lose control like that.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her, to see the revulsion that surely must lie on her face. The silence between them became oppressive. He opened his mouth to apologise, but nothing came out. He just sat there, gaping like a fish.

"Severus?"

He heard Hermione call his name but was saved from having to answer by the return of Malfoy. Instead, he stared resolutely at the painting on the wall, waiting for one of the many waiters to come and take their order for pudding.

----

The remainder of their breakfast/dinner passed pleasantly enough, and there were no more disasters on the Hermione front. He'd managed to spend the rest of the meal avoiding eye contact. Mostly he'd just stuck to drinking his tea, eating his sticky toffee pudding and inserting mildly witty comments whenever the mood took him.

Waiting by the Permanent Portkey Position for the next free gate, he watched as Hermione readied herself for off. Wand out, hair wild about her shoulders, she looked very much the part of a witch – both beautiful and dangerous. Perhaps that's why he found himself so taken with her; the strong, fearless woman that haunted his dreams with teasing caresses, leaving him ashamed when he awoke hard and aching. It was always her face he imagined.

"Thanks for dinner, Severus," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek and breaking him from his reverie. Despite himself, Severus leaned slightly into the touch, wanting to prolong the contact for as long as possible. His eyes closed, and he could smell her perfume: the sweet scent of oranges with base notes of myrrh and something uniquely her. He'd smelt it earlier, but in the heavy air of the inn, it hadn't been nearly as noticeable.

"And thank you for showing me one of your better qualities," she whispered against his ear.

Surely she couldn't mean... could she?

His eyes snapped open only to find her disappearing in a swirl as the Portkey activated. Going home to sleep.

----

*Scutter-bot – the service bots from Red Dwarf.

*Skin Tag – the part found at the start of the hair when it's pulled directly from the root. Unlike the hair itself, which is mainly keratin fibre, it contains the DNA of the person it was pulled from. This is why not all hairs are useful when identifying subjects – only the ones with tags can be used for DNA identification.

*Autorad – Short for Autoradiograph. It is the final 'barcode' produced in DNA profiling. Done using electrophoresis (DNA fragments are separated by weight passing an electric current through the gel in which the DNA is placed). It takes place on a nylon membrane and is photographed against a x-ray film.

*RFLP – Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism. A way of identifying DNA due to the different lengths of DNA fragments. Each length is unique to the person in question.

*Ouchterlony Test – a clinical test that determines whether collected blood evidence is human in origin or comes from an animal.