A/N: *Smiles enigmatically and bats her eyes*

*Distracts you with a shiny new chapter*

*slowly backs away, waiting to see if you notice*

xx-Kitten.

Undisclosed Desires

By Kittenshift17

Chapter Twelve

Harry waited a few days before he came looking for the files, much to Hermione's surprise. She hadn't immediately rushed off to inform him that Dolohov had stolen them despite the initial instinct to do just that. She was, after all, still angry with him and she wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with the tantrum she expected would follow the announcement that the files were gone.

He cornered her in the elevator on Thursday evening when Hermione was preparing to depart the office for the day, intent on making use of the Late Night Shopping offered in Diagon Alley. She had noticed throughout the week that while she'd restocked on groceries, she was uncomfortably low on magical wares and potion ingredients – in particular, a number of those items needed for headache cures.

"Shopping?" Harry asked conversationally when Hermione took the elevator to the Floo atrium so she could Floo over to Diagon Alley directly. "Or nipping down to the pub?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes on Harry and waited for the other people in the elevator to depart before answering.

"Shopping," she answered. "I need to stop at the apothecary."

"So do I," Harry said, though Hermione very much doubted that Ginny Weasley would allow their stores to run out in the Potter household.

She didn't protest when Harry followed her through the halls to the Floo. She didn't see the point. She wasn't about the make small talk, though. Not after the things he'd said to her the last time they'd spoken.

"Did you happen to find those files I left on your desk on Monday?" Harry asked as they lined up to use the Floo – busy as it was this afternoon with the evening crowd heading home from another hard day at the office.

"Mmm," Hermione answered.

"Did you take a look at them?" Harry asked, his mouth twitching like he already knew she wouldn't have been able to resist.

"Mmm," she hummed a second time.

"And?" he prompted when she didn't elaborate.

"They're gone," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, dropping the news on him before stepping forward into the Floo and spinning away in a whirl of green flames to land in Diagon Alley.

She moved quickly out of the fireplace despite the way her head spun, knowing it was a busy time of the afternoon and that Harry would undoubtedly be hot on her heels.

"What do you mean, 'they're gone'?" Harry demanded immediately upon landing, though he'd managed to crack his glasses in his haste to follow her.

"They were taken from my desk," Hermione said with a shrug as she headed out of the Floo Hall and into the bustling alley beyond, being swept along by the crowd as her fellow witches and wizards went about their lives and did their evening shopping.

"Hermione!" Harry protested, hurrying after her. "What do you mean, 'they were taken'? By whom? Those are sensitive MLE files!"

"Shouldn't have left them on my desk where just anyone could get them then, should you?" Hermione threw over her shoulder as she pushed her way past a woman with a gaggle of five young children all babbling and shouting at her side as she tried to do her shopping.

"Who took them, Hermione?" Harry wanted to know. "I know there was a disturbance in your office on Monday, but my Aurors on duty protecting you reported that whoever was there had disapparated before they could spot him."

Hermione didn't answer him as she fought free of the crowd and made her way up the steps of the apothecary at Slug & Jiggers.

"It was Dolohov, wasn't it?" Harry growled in a low voice when he followed her into the shop, though he knew better than to impede her when she picked up a basket and began collecting the numerous supplies she'd added to her list following a recent inventory of her stores.

"How did he get in without them knowing?" Harry wanted to know when she offered no answer.

"I have no idea, Harry," Hermione answered truthfully. "There's no Floo connection in my office, and if he apparated in, he did so silently."

"Hardly anyone can apparate silently."

"He's apparently among them," Hermione shrugged. "Whenever he turns up like that, he frightens the living daylights out of me because I never hear him arrive until he starts speaking to me."

"He called on you, then?" Harry confirmed. "With my Aurors right outside? Why didn't they catch him? Why didn't you alert them?"

"You assigned rookies to watch over me, Harry," Hermione pointed out as she collected a large amount of willow bark and a good deal of tisane of chamomile to make headache remedies. "And left them to do so all night. They probably nipped off to get a coffee and he probably slipped into the office while they were occupied. He's good at that. Your photos of him are outdated. He's told me on numerous occasions he's made a game of greeting the Aurors he passes while he roams the Ministry, stalking me. He's even said hello to Kingsley and the man didn't recognize him despite once leading the team assigned with hunting him down."

"You're joking?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed past him to reach for some eye of newt.

"It's been over a decade, Harry. And he's well-groomed, well-dressed, and no longer looks like he wants to murder everyone he's glaring at like he does in the wanted posters. I'd wager all of your younger recruits have no clue what he looks like. He could stroll right by them pretending to be a client in my office, or even a colleague and they'd have no clue it was him."

Harry looked alarmed by this news.

"He took the files? Dolohov has stolen copies of my investigation reports for his own murders?"

Hermione strolled further down an aisle, collecting dandelion oil, lavender seeds, and powdered bicorn horn as she went.

"Mmmm," she hummed in agreement with his questions.

"Fuck!" Harry swore.

Hermione laughed to hear it.

"Why would he steal files for his own murder case?" Harry wanted to know. "It's not like he wouldn't know how they died…"

"Well, the last thing he said to me was that he wasn't the only Death Eater still evading custody and that he has enemies," Hermione told her friend seriously.

"Of course, he did," Harry snarled sourly. "Will you just believe everything he tells you? He's playing you, Hermione."

"He said it was a setup," Hermione shrugged. "I'm just telling you what he said, Harry. He saw the pictures of the bodies, he said that half the pubs those blokes went to he'd never allow me to enter – that he'd throw me over his shoulder and carry me away from them if he had to – and he said that it was a setup."

"And you believed him?" Harry asked. "How does he know what pubs they frequent?"

"From the files."

"He read them in front of you?"

"No, I asked him if he killed them."

"Are you insane?" Harry choked, his green eyes wide and horrified.

"I don't think so," Hermione said primly, reaching for dried hellebore from a high shelf. "Oh, but don't call him crazy. He'll choke you if you do."

"He choked you again?" Harry asked, looking increasingly concerned.

"Mmm," she hummed once more. "I don't think he killed those men, Harry."

"Why? Because you want to see the best in the psychotic murderer you're shagging?" Harry hissed.

Hermione glanced around in annoyance to make sure no one had overheard him say so.

"Because if Dolohov had killed them, Harry, you'd never have found the bodies."

"Excuse me?" Harry blinked his shock at her, and Hermione reached for a jar of toad's legs.

"He's a practiced killer, Harry. He's not about to kill four men and just leave their bodies lying around to be found. Especially not while using his signature curse to do it. The evidence all points right to him, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, because he's guilty," Harry growled.

"Or because someone is trying to make it look like he's guilty," Hermione pointed out. "Trust me, Harry. Dolohov is smart. He wouldn't kill those men with a very signature curse he's known for having invented and then just leave their bodies for you to find. Especially not after ensuring they had some connection to me. He didn't confirm or deny whether those creeps had been hitting on me or getting handsy, but if they had done and he had killed them, you'd never have found them."

"Maybe he didn't care about being caught," Harry suggested, determined to believe Dolohov the ultimate villain.

Hermione rolled her eyes hard enough that she was beginning to get a headache. She'd forgotten how Harry could be such a dog with a bone when it came to accusing people of crimes they may or may not have committed – particularly when they were innocent. Severus Snape, anyone? She chose not to bring up the reminder, however. It would only send him into another rage, and she wasn't in the mood for more cutting remarks from him today.

"Harry, Antonin Dolohov has evaded capture by the ministry for over a decade," she reminded him. "What's more, he's clever, meticulous, calculating, and cold. He would not commit such an act and leave evidence pointing straight to himself – especially not so soon after having kidnapped me."

"Maybe he didn't mean to leave any evidence."

"They were found in alleyways and dark corners, weren't they?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Maybe he got interrupted."

"Four times?"

"Well," Harry said, frowning and looking like that was a rather large hole in his argument that he'd only just spotted. "He's a killer, Hermione."

"No one is disputing that," she agreed. "He would kill them. Maybe he even did kill them. But I don't think he did. Not in this instance. I don't remember ever seeing any of them, and if they had laid a hand on me, he undoubtedly would've intervened and would have hurt them. But if he had killed them, he'd have transfigured the bodies and disposed of them in a way you'd never find them. It would be easy for him to transfigure the bodies and kick whatever he turned them into down into a gutter that leads to the sewers and stormwater drains. He could've vanished them. He could've collected them and thrown them in the river. But he didn't."

"It alarming that you know so many ways to hide a body, Hermione," Harry frowned at her.

"I've thought about offing a few people over the years, myself, Harry," Hermione admitted seriously, making stern eye contact with him.

"You wouldn't," he shook his head.

She didn't disagree, though she rather thought she had killed during the war and probably would kill again in defense of her own life or the lives of her friends, even the ones like Ron who didn't necessarily deserve it.

"All I'm saying is that if I can think of that many ways to hide a body, I'm certain Dolohov knows a good deal more and would employ any one of them to ensure that he got away with murder. After so long on the run, he wouldn't simply reveal himself so stupidly."

"He kidnapped you," Harry disagreed.

"He was proving a point," Hermione sighed. "And probably saving my life."

Harry looked like he wanted to argue.

"Look, Harry, all I'm saying is that from what I've seen, all your evidence points a little too distinctly at Dolohov as being your killer. It's his curse, and they're men who probably hit on me when I was smashed. But he said he was being set up. He said he didn't kill them. He took the case files, told me he had enemies who would try to do him harm and might try to harm me as well, he disapparated and I haven't seen hide or hair of him since. If I was you, I would look into the other Death Eaters who are still on the run and figure out which of them are likely to have enmity with Dolohov. Keep in mind that his obsession with me, given my blood status, would irk all of them, were it known. We can assume that whoever they are, they know he's stalking me, they don't like it, and they want him caught and killed."

"He specifically said to you that other Death Eaters would try to harm you?" Harry confirmed, having gone very still, and watching her like he would a bomb that was about to go off.

"He said that his enemies would try to harm him and that they would try to harm me too," Hermione nodded. "Then he kissed me, stole the files, and disapparated."

She collected some henbane before examining her list once more and cross-checking the contents of her basket. With everything she needed, Hermione headed for the counter.

"I'm increasing the security detail guarding you, Hermione," Harry told her seriously. "And I think it would be a good idea for you to avoid going anywhere that isn't work or your flat."

"I'm not going to hide, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I guarantee that just because I haven't seen Dolohov in a few days, doesn't mean he's not stalking me and looking on from somewhere. If any of his fellow Death Eaters come crawling out of the woodwork and try to target me, he'll appear. If I've figured out anything about him since he showed up, it's that the only person in this world who will ever shag me again is him, and the man who will end my life one day is also him. He's not about the let anyone else do it."

Harry looked like he thought she was a raving lunatic as the shop assistant wrung up her items and gave her a total. Hermione handed over the money and asked for a bag for her numerous purchases.

"Doesn't that frighten you?" Harry asked, frowning at her.

"He thinks he's in love with me, Harry," Hermione said quietly when her items were bagged as she made for the exit to the shop. "But there's an unstable part of him that will probably drive him to kill me one day."

"How can you not be doing more to help me catch this bastard?" Harry demanded.

Hermione strode into the street and turned to watch Harry descend the stairs in her wake.

"He woke me up, Harry," she reminded him quietly. "He made me look at the cold, ugly truth of what my life had become – what I had become. His methods are… questionable, it's true, but they were effective. Knowing that no one would have come looking for me until I'd been in his custody for days and days was the most sobering thing I've lived through since surviving his curse. If he's going to be there, stalking me, protecting me in his own twisted way, and if he's going to continue butting into my life, I might as well make the most of being woken up, don't you think?"

"Hermione, he's a killer," Harry argued. "You've just said yourself that you think he'll kill you one day. Help me put him back in Azkaban so that doesn't happen."

"I owe him my life, Harry," she shook her head slowly. "I can't help you catch him as long as I owe him a life debt."

"Your life wasn't in danger until he snatched you," he growled.

"Pfft!" Hermione scoffed. "I'd have died of liver poisoning before forty, according to the Healers at St. Mungo's that I've begun seeing to treat my alcoholism and depression, Harry. If he hadn't woken me up, I'd have continued to spiral and drunk myself into an early grave."

"That doesn't mean you owe him a life debt."

"If you catch him, you'll ask the Wizengamot to sentence him to The Kiss, won't you?" Hermione asked seriously.

Harry nodded.

"He deserves it. He escaped Azkaban. He could do it again. He can't be allowed to continue to live."

"Then I can't help you catch him," Hermione shrugged her shoulders simply. "Not when I owe him my life."

"You owe him nothing. He almost took your life when you were sixteen."

"Almost," Hermione agreed with a tight smile.

"You're really going to claim a life debt to avoid helping me, even knowing it will probably get you killed?" Harry demanded.

She simply nodded and Harry scowled at her furiously, running an annoyed hand through his hair.

"You're impossible!" he spat before turning on the spot and disapparating without saying goodbye.

Hermione rolled her eyes one more time and thought about heading for home before the lights in the window of Flourish & Blotts caught her eye and it occurred to her that it'd been a good long while since she'd indulged in a decent book-buying frenzy. Smiling to herself, Hermione headed for the shop with a bounce in her step, blissfully unaware of the eyes that followed her all the way down the street.