As always, a massive thank you is owed to my brilliantly beautiful beta, Catherine Morgenstern. Thank you, lovely.

It took several hours for the old witch to turn the painting again. First the ground rumbled and then the room swayed until it felt as though they were on a storm-tossed ship. Daylight flooded the room in the time it took to take a breath.

The bright light brought no sign of Regulus. Hardly surprising as it would have been pitch black outside and Hermione imagined he had hunkered down in a sheltered spot to wait for the darkness to recede. Rabastan didn't seem too concerned by his absence, content to sit on his bed and make lewd comments and suggestions to Hermione every few minutes. The first few had made her flush a brilliant red, but her embarrassment had swiftly turned to annoyance when they continued and became more and more outrageous throughout the day. In the end, she'd marched out of the hut in a huff to search for more wood for their dwindling supply. Honestly, he was impossible and she'd come to the conclusion that his main skill as a Death Eater was irritating people until they died or gave up every bit of information they knew.

Hermione had just collected an armful of sticks when she saw a tree that had the most uniquely shaped branch emerging from its trunk. Flat and curved, its sides gently curled into itself to form a shallow bowl shape. Hermione grinned. It would do as a container until they found something better. The only problem was that it was near the top of the tree and as much as she would love to smugly present it to Rabastan so he could see just how useless he was in comparison to her, Hermione doubted she could safely make the climb. Plus it was higher than she'd be comfortable attempting. With no choice, she made her way back to the hut to ask for Rabastan's help.

The Death Eater was lounging on the bed, a bored expression blanketing his features. When Hermione entered, he twisted his head towards her. "More sticks? You really like handling wood, don't you, Granger?"

"God, you're vile," she said, dropping the branches and turning to give him a stern look. "Now, get off you privileged backside and help me." At his raised brow she elaborated. "I think I've found something we can use as a bowl."

"Ah." Without another word he stood, tossing the hair off his face in an effortless move Hermione could never hope to emulate. "Lead on, darling girl."

She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling at his impervious tone, but began to move regardless. The trek to the trees had become familiar enough that they didn't need to look where they were going. They simply bent their head into the howling wind and walked as fast as the soft sand would allow. It took several minutes for Hermione to find the tree again, and when she did spot it, she thumped a grumbling Rab on the arm and pointed.

"About time, we've been searching for ages," he complained.

Hermione tutted. "It hasn't even been ten minutes," she threw over her shoulder as she walked away from him.

The branch was even more perfect than she remembered. They'd be able to fill it with at least four or five cupfuls of water, maybe more. She paused beneath the spidery tree, waiting for Rabastan to catch up.

"Good find, Granger." He turned towards her and crouched a little, lacing his hands together in front of him. "I'll boost you up and catch it when you throw it down"

"Boost me?!" Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "I'm not going up there! You are."

Rabastan frowned up at the tangled canopy, his eyes narrowed on the bleached wood. "Fuck off. You're smaller and lighter than me. It makes more sense for you to climb."

"I won't be strong enough to break the bloody branch away from the trunk." Her features set in mulish lines. "You're climbing."

"Careful. That almost sounded like another one of your orders, darling girl." Rab crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "Besides, the wood is brittle enough for a child to break."

Hermione huffed. "Then you should have no trouble."

"Neither should you," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes at his reluctance. "Are you afraid?"

Rab sneered. "Of a tree? Are you fucking mad? I'm not afraid, Granger." He took a few steps towards her, deliberately invading her personal space. "But I am rapidly becoming bored of this conversation."

"And I'm not?" she said, tilting her head to the side to try and figure out why he seemed so set against climbing. It really wasn't that high. And then it hit her. "You're scared of heights, aren't you?"

Lestrange immediately backed away and scoffed. "Don't be fucking absurd."

"Then climb the tree!"

"You climb the fucking tree!"

Hermione pulled in a breath, seeking to calm her growing anger. "Come on, you can practically touch it with your fingers. Honestly, you won't fall. Just focus on the branch and don't look down. It will only take a second or two."

Rab barked out a laugh. "A second or two, huh? Then it won't take you long at all."

A bubble of irritation settled in her stomach. She was going to have to tell him that heights weren't her favourite thing either. The problem was, Hermione really didn't want to expose one of her weaknesses to a Death Eater, especially not this Death Eater. He'd be impossible if she did. Biting her lip, she glanced at the tree. It wasn't that high, or at least, it hadn't looked that high before. Now, the longer she looked at it, the taller it seemed to get. Ridiculous. If she'd had her magic, she wouldn't be hesitating quite so much, after all, she could cast a cushioning charm or simply sever the branch from the trunk without even leaving the ground.

"Well?" Rab drawled.

Hermione snapped her gaze to his. "I may have a slight problem with heights myself," she finally muttered.

"Fuck," he spat out as he glared at her.

"It's not my fault!" She angrily tossed her hair out of her eyes. "One of us is going to have to climb and that someone is not going to be me!" Her hair flew back in her face and she hissed, sounding very much like Crookshanks. "And would you please stop swearing! It's completely unnecessary."

Rab sneered at her trying to wrestle her hair into order. "Granger-"

"Do you want to walk to the stream every time you need a sip of water?"

The Death Eater scowled but didn't reply as he switched his attention to the tree. A frown rumpled his brow as he walked towards it. "You owe me for this, witch. And believe me, I will be fucking collecting."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but remained silent as he removed his robes and chucked them at her. They landed on her head, the weight of them almost causing her neck to snap. By the time she'd tugged them off, Rabastan was halfway up the trunk, cursing and mumbling as he struggled to climb.

"How on earth are you afraid of heights anyway? Didn't you play Quidditch at Hogwarts?"

"I did not," he grunted, pulling himself higher using only his arms and causing his shirt to stretch across his back. The black material did nothing to hide the wiry muscles beneath and if it hadn't been for him shaking, Hermione would have suspected he was doing it to show off.

"No? I thought every pureblood played," she called.

"Not this one," he muttered. "I had more fun-" An ominous creak erupted from the tree. "Fuck! It's going to fall!"

"No." Hermione stepped back and eyed the trunk. "Just don't put anymore weight on that branch."

Rabastan twisted his head to glare at her. "If it isn't falling, then why the fuck are you standing over there?"

"So I can see better."

"That's it. I'm coming down," he growled, beginning to loosen his grip.

"Wait!" Hermione wandered closer. "You're almost there and we really do need it."

Rabastan huffed. "Say you owe me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Just reach up and tear the damn branch off!"

He began to climb down.

"Alright! Stop. I owe you," Hermione hissed, beyond furious at being blackmailed by him over such a silly thing.

She heard him grumble something about witches and orders, before he wrapped his arms around the truck, clearly not willing to trust the branch that had creaked.

"There's a hole to your right, just lift you foot a little higher," she said.

"Did I ask for your fucking help?" Rabastan roared before wedging his foot into the hole she'd indicated.

"Fine! Get the bloody thing yourself then!" Hermione huffed as she turned away and began to march back to the hut.

"Granger!"

She shook her head. Rabastan Lestrange could go take a flying leap. And if that happened to be out of a tree, well, he'd only have himself to blame if he broke his leg or, preferably, his head in the fall. He shouted her name once more, but she increased her speed until all she could hear was the wind roaring in her ears. Her intention had been to return to their shack, but as soon as it was in sight she veered to the left and towards the crashing waves. They seemed even more turbulent today, as if the sea understood her frustration and sought to add to it.

After a few moments, she sat on the damp sand and stared at the distant horizon. It was a smoky grey that blended sea into sky to form one flat smudge of colour. She wondered if someone was on the other side of the greyness, outside the painting; looking in on them, watching a wild-haired witch sitting on the beach and staring mournfully back at them. A tear slipped down her cheek as the fear, worry and loneliness she'd kept at bay finally broke free. Before it reached the bottom of her cheek, she brushed it away.

Tears wouldn't free her from this nightmare.

Their situation seemed hopeless. No magic. No plan. No idea of how to break free. And even if, by some miracle, they did manage to escape, she wasn't naive enough to believe the Death Eaters would let her go. No. They would present her to Voldemort like a prize cow and what he would do to her then didn't bear thinking about. Perhaps she should have disappeared as Regulus had; wandered off into the distance and never looked back. She shook her head, seeking to shake her depressing thoughts aside. Regulus would return and then they would find a way to free themselves. Anything beyond that could wait.

Soft sand hit her back and she turned her head to see Lestrange standing behind her. The bowl-shaped branch was held in front of him like a weird peace offering.

"Are you sulking, Granger? How dreadfully unoriginal," Rabastan said with a smirk. "I should be the one sulking. You abandoned me on our quest to retrieve a chunk of wood."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Quest? Really?" Her eyes dropped to his hands. "I see you succeeded," she said dryly. "Well done. You must be very proud of yourself."

"Now, now, darling girl. I hear the hint of jealousy in your tone." He winked and tossed his head towards the hut. "You coming? Or will you bask in my glory from afar?"

"You really think you're fantastic, don't you?" she said as she pushed to her feet in order to take a closer look at the branch-bowl.

Rabastan waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've never had any complaints in the past, Granger."

"Not to your face perhaps," she murmured, pleased to see he'd even filled it with water.

"Ouch! Shit, darling girl. You just broke my heart."

Hermione started to walk back to their shelter. "I'm sure you'll survive without it."

Whatever reply Rab gave was lost on the wind. When they reached the hut, Lestrange placed the branch-bowl on the ground underneath one of the beds - a place it wouldn't be kicked over by mistake. They'd debated putting it on the table at first, but decided that the wobbly legs weren't strong enough to hold it should the painting be turned again.

After that they sat, or in Rabastan's case lay, on the bed as time slowly ticked by. Neither of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts of the future. A little time later the ground began to shake as the painting was turned yet again. There was no sense of time inside the picture, but Hermione knew instinctively that it hadn't been a full day since they'd last been plunged into darkness. The old crone was no doubt trying to confuse them. And she was succeeding. With no clock, Hermione had no clue whether it was night or day in the outside world.

On the other side of the room she could hear Rabastan shifting on the bed. It was an oddly intimate sound that reminded her of being back at Hogwarts hidden behind her curtains as the other girls prepared for sleep. It was always so dark and warm inside the drawn curtains. Cosy. Not cold and damp and hopeless as it was inside the painting.

"You still awake, Granger?"

For a moment she considered not answering, but despite the weak flames throwing out an insipid orange glow, the darkness was still oppressive and felt like it was pushing down on her chest. "Yes. What is it?"

"Nothing."

Hermione huffed and twisted her head to the side to see him staring at the ceiling. His profile looked defined, the flames kissing his features like a lover. "Nothing? God, you're annoying."

"Don't you mean endearing?"

"No, I mean annoying." She sighed and turned onto her side, seeking sleep, but her body knew it wasn't time to fall into oblivion no matter how hard she tried. "I can't sleep."

"We'll have to think of something else to do then, won't we?" His voice deepened to a suggestive growl.

Hermione felt a blush rush into her cheeks at his ridiculous innuendo. "We could talk about where your fear of heights comes from," she suggested before he could say something even more outrageous.

"How about we talk about yours instead?"

"I'd rather not."

"Neither would I."

Silence fell.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut against the light and tried to find a comfortable position. The bed, although better than sleeping on the ground, was still horrible to lay upon. Each of the wooden slats dug into her body, despite the thin mattress beneath her. Their small fire chased away some of the cold, but not nearly enough to stop her curling into a small ball in an effort to conserve body heat.

Her thoughts drifted to Regulus, alone in the darkness with no flimsy shelter and fire to give him the illusion of safety.

Would he survive? When would he return? And if he did, would he have some answers?

The questions circled her head, gathering momentum until she felt dizzy. She placed her hands over her ears and began to recite passages from Hogwarts: A History until she fell into a fitful sleep.

The kiss will be in the next chapter. Promise. See you next time!