A/N: So, I decided that I would write all the prompts given to me for celebrating hitting 1 million words. Slowly though, lol. So here's the second prompt I chose at random to write! It's from adr1985/Adharablack85-2. She wanted a Thorfinn/Hermione (my favorite) and secret lovers during Hogwarts. I'm not sure this is what she had in mind when she suggested this prompt, but here's what my muse came up with.

Also, I don't usually write in first POV, but this story like beamed itself into my head in first POV, and I didn't have the heart to change it. As I wrote it, I began to really like the immediacy of it. So, even if you don't usually read first POV, give it a shot!

My wonderful betas were bellsper31 and VinoAmore. A perfect manip was made for me by Klawdee890; go check it out on my Tumblr: crochetawayhpff or my Facebook: Shan Crochetaway.

If you liked this (or hated it), let me know about it in a review! Thanks so much for reading!

Pairing: Hermione/Thorfinn

Summary: Hermione Granger and Thorfinn Rowle start an illicit relationship while at Hogwarts together. Each time Hermione thinks the relationship is going to end... Rowle crops back up again.

Rating: M

The Secret Lovers

October 1995

Our relationship started on accident. Really. I'm sure a lot of people say that, and for some of them it might even be true, but for us? It was definitely true. We didn't even know each other before that night. Hell, I'm not sure I could have even picked him out of a lineup. His name was sort of familiar, in the way that a schoolmate who was a few years older than you might be, but what he looked like? I couldn't have told you.

It all started because I got locked in the library. Honest to Godric. It's ridiculous to think about now, all these years later, but it happened. I didn't have my wand on me either. How embarrassing is that? The brightest witch of her year, according to Professor Lupin, and yet I managed not only to get locked in the library, but I had also forgotten my wand as well. I suppose since I was revising for History of Magic, I assumed I wouldn't need it. It seems absurd to me these days, but you have to remember, back in fifth year, there wasn't a war. Not yet. Sure, Voldemort was back, but nobody but us and Dumbledore even believed Harry about that. Fudge and the Ministry were still covering everything up, and the world seemed to be the safe place from my childhood still.

If you could call everything that happened before fifth year safe.

Even then, it was the beginning of the year. The end of the year was when all the danger usually began.

I'm making excuses for my lapse in judgment. And I really shouldn't. Because if I hadn't forgotten my wand that night, I never would have met him.

He was there on a dare. To break into the library and the restricted section for a particular book. A banned book. A book I had been using to fluff my essay for History of Magic. Attempting to use it without having to cite it was becoming a bit of a challenge for me. I enjoyed challenges, especially of the academic variety.

I figured since I was already locked in, I might as well get my essay finished. Then maybe I'd kip for a few hours on the lone armchair near the completely dead fireplace. It would be cold, but better than the floor at least.

"Fuck, it's not here," I heard someone mutter. It was my first clue that someone else was in the library with me. A pity I was always too focused when I was revising; otherwise, I'm sure I would have heard the door open. As it was, I was just relieved that I had a way out. I'd have to dodge Filch and Professor Snape in the corridors, but it beat sleeping on an armchair all night and having to deal with the displeasure of Madam Pince in the morning.

I stood slowly, cracking my back in the process. I had been sitting for too long, and my body was sore as I made my way to wear the muttering was coming from. The restricted section, of course, it was the only reason to break into the library in the middle of the night.

He was kneeling, looking hard at the bottom shelf his wand lit and scanning the titles.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, leaning my shoulder against the nearest shelf.

"Fucking hell," he shouted, turning quickly and falling on his arse. I'll be honest, I didn't notice his uniform. I noticed how fucking beautiful he was. Long hair, longer than Harry and Ron's, down to his shoulders. A gorgeous golden blond and the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen. His face had been clean-shaven that morning, but he had a shadow of a beard now. His jaw was square and sharp enough to cut cheese on.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"What the hell did you think you were doing, sneaking up on someone? Of course, you bloody scared me," he muttered as he got up off the floor. Merlin, he was tall. He towered over me and I could see just how broad his shoulders were. He wasn't wearing a tie, but the Slytherin crest was hard to miss now that it was directly in front of my eyes.

"Sorry," I said again, shrugging. I didn't sound particularly sorry, because I really wasn't. "What are you looking for?" I asked.

"A book," he said shortly, eyeing me carefully. I wasn't wearing my uniform and while Harry was quite well-known and popular, I was considerably less so and had no idea if he would recognize me at all.

"I'm good with books. Maybe I can help," I offered. He was my savior after all. It was the least I could do. Especially after scaring him the way I had.

"Granger, right?" he asked. "Potter's friend."

"That's right. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I can see you're a Slytherin, but you're not a fifth year."

"Seventh," he said. "Thorfinn Rowle," he stuck out his hand. It was my turn to be startled. Why would a pure-blood prince like Rowle want to shake my hand? Determined not to be prejudice against him, the way I was sure he would be against me, I grasped his hand firmly and shook it. He smiled then. If I had thought he was gorgeous before, with a smile he was bloody angelic. Move over Lockhart, there was a new dreamboat in my life.

"Nice to meet you, Rowle," I smiled in return.

"Finn, please. Rowle sounds so cold. Especially coming from a pretty girl like you," his smile deepened into a grin. Holy hell, was that a dimple winking at me? The lighting was dim in the library, but I was pretty sure it was. My heart pitter-pattered in my chest with the way he flirted.

"Finn then. Which book were you looking for?" I noticed how he hadn't really let go of my hand, not that I was pulling mine from his. There was something comforting, touching his skin in the middle of the darkened library. I wasn't scared, Hogwarts had never been scary to me, but it was the middle of the night, in a castle full of ghosts.

He took a step forward, backing me completely into the bookcase behind me, his hand still in mine, warm, dry, comforting. I couldn't help my breath hitching as he crept closer.

"You're really, very pretty," he murmured, finally pulling his hand free of mine. He took that same hand and placed it on the shelf above my head, leaning even closer. Somehow his other hand landed on my hip, anchoring me in place.

"Um, thanks?" I said, looking up at him beneath my lashes. He was close, but hopefully not close enough to hear how quickly my heart was beating in my chest. I couldn't stop my gaze from dropping to his lips. They were perfect, of course, everything about him was bloody perfect.

When I finally dragged my eyes back up to his, they were crinkled in amusement and I felt foolish. It was just a boy, flirting with me, unusual, but not something I was completely unfamiliar with. Fake it till you make it, Ginny's voice floated through my brain.

I cocked my eyebrow at him and bit my bottom lip; it was his turn to drop his gaze to my mouth. His eyes weren't smiling anymore. No, now they were intense pools of blue and he moved impossibly closer to me. His chest pressed against mine as our hips made contact. The hand above my head dropped suddenly to my shoulder, then grazed against my neck.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Granger," he said just before his lips were pressed against mine. I barely had time to give my nod of consent before he was kissing me. Playing coy was never my strong suit, I leaned into the kiss, his hand now tangling in my hair, tilting my head at just the right angle for him to plunder my mouth.

Completely of their own accord, my own arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders; lifting my body and plastering it against his. I had no chill, I recognize this now, but bloody hell, he was a good kisser. It was so unexpected, all of it, and while I might not normally be so spontaneous, I was also never one to back down when spontaneity presented itself to me.

Those damned teenage hormones probably didn't help. I had just turned sixteen and boys were very much on my mind, even if I didn't act like Lavender and Parvati. He shuffled forward just a mite more, and my back was pressed quite firmly against the bookcase behind me. It should have been annoying, uncomfortable even. But I wasn't thinking about any of that. I was thinking about how fucking fit Rowle was. His chest was broad and hard beneath my hands. He plays Quidditch. The thought whispered from my mind and suddenly I realized why his name sounded familiar. I'd heard it for years at Slytherin Quidditch matches.

I wasn't sure then, but I am now. I had it bad for Quidditch players. There was just something so completely sexy about a man who could command a broom like that. Even if I didn't care for broom flying, I wasn't a total idiot. There was a lot of skill involved in Quidditch.

Before I knew what was happening, we had moved from the bookcase and Rowle was backing his way across the library. We stumbled into tables and chairs, but he had a clear destination in mind and the kissing was mindblowing, so I didn't mind. His destination became clear when he dropped into the armchair by the fireplace. I happily climbed into his lap, straddling him as his hands found my arse, yanking me forward until I was directly over his cock. The word felt dirty to me but so fucking appropriate as it whispered through my mind. I was sitting on Thorfinn Rowle's cock. Fuck, I was grinding against it.

His lips trailed from my mouth, down to that sweet spot between my neck and shoulder that made me shudder on top of him. "Finn," I groaned, my hands sliding through his long hair.

"Oh, fuck. That's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard," he whispered against my collar bone. "Say it again."

"Finn," I complied, rotating my hips at the same time. He flexed his hips, sending his cock right against my clit and making me whimper.

He shuddered, stilling for a long moment, his forehead pressed against my chest, taking deep breaths. "We should stop," he said. I rolled my hips in response and his hands tightened on my jean-clad arse.

Apparently, that was answer enough, because he began lifting my shirt then. I helped pull it off and tossed it over my shoulder. He kept one hand on my waist, but the other placed the softest caress on my breast. His thumb grazing my nipple in a way that made my back arch into him. He yanked my bra up over my breasts, not bothering to remove it, and bent, taking a nipple in his mouth.

"Ah, Finn!" I shouted. I tried to cut the shout off, but at the moment he sucked on one nipple, he pinched the other between his thumb and his forefinger and holy shit, I couldn't help myself.

"Granger," he groaned, "If you keep this up, I'm going to fuck you right here and now," he muttered into the valley between my breasts.

"If you think I'm leaving before getting fucked, you have another thing coming," I replied, gripping his head and pulling it back so I could meet his eyes. "And it's Hermione."

"Hermione," he whispered, licking my breastbone while holding my gaze. It was the hottest thing I'd seen all night and scrambled to pull his shirt from him. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his oxford and then pulled both his jumper and oxford off in one smooth motion.

I was right, his shoulders and chest were fucking incredible. I couldn't stop my hands from reaching out and sliding over that huge expanse of gorgeous skin.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked again. I cocked my head, a Muggle boy wouldn't have bothered to ask even once.

"Are you?" I asked.

"You have no idea how bad I want you right now," he replied, his eyes roving over all of me in a way that made me feel like a dessert he was ready to devour. It should have been insulting, but it only made me square my shoulders and offer him a small smile.

I scooted back a bit and placed my hand on the placard of his trousers. "Then we're in agreement," I said, as I began slipping the buttons free. He groaned and pushed me off his lap entirely so I could wiggle out of my jeans. He removed his own trousers and sat back in the chair, beckoning me forward.

Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this. The other part of me demanded I climb back on his lap and fuck him until I couldn't move anymore. I listened to the latter part.

Rowle certainly wasn't the first boy I had been with. There had been some experiments with a Muggle neighbor over the summer. They were fine, nice even. But Rowle was much larger than my neighbor. I reached a hand out, about to touch him when I looked up to catch his eye.

"May I?" I asked, my hand hovering inches from his cock. It was jutting proudly, almost reaching up to hit his belly button.

His breath hitched and he nodded. It was hot, hard, smooth, soft like silk, so many things as I wrapped my hand around it and pumped.

He grunted and yanked me forward, barely giving me any room to work with as his hand began exploring the folds between my legs. When his thumb brushed against my clit, my back arched and I cried out, my hand stopping its movements as the pleasure coursed through me.

"Gorgeous," he murmured against my breast. He pulled my hand off of him and guided his cock to my entrance.

Before he could ask again, I sank down on him and pressed my lips to his at the same time. It was glorious, the feeling of him filling me slowly. The taste of him on my tongue. The way his hands clenched around my waist and his breath slowed to a stop. I don't know if I decided then that this was it for me, but looking back, I could see how I may have made that decision subconsciously.

After that first, careful slide home, our coupling was hard, fast, frenetic, frantic even as I bounced on his lap. He kept a thumb on my clit, drawing forth not just one, but two orgasms before he spilled inside me with a low roar.

When we were finished, I didn't want to leave, but it was late, and we certainly couldn't get caught in such a position in the library. We dressed in a hurry and parted at the door of the library. He pulled me into a deep kiss before he left. It tasted of promise, although I didn't want to get my hopes up. He was a gorgeous seventh year Quidditch player. A pure-blood to boot. There were probably half a dozen girls at Hogwarts he could lure into his bed. Surely, he wouldn't want me.

Of course, he wanted me. He accosted me not two days later, yanking me into an alcove and pressing me against the rough stone wall. He lifted me until I wrapped my legs around his waist and he plundered a hand beneath my skirt. His mouth never left mine, as I mewled and whimpered. It was embarrassing how quickly he made me come. I wasn't even late for my next class. Although Harry gave me a strange look. I'm sure I was flushed. I was certainly flustered trying to pay attention to Professor McGonagall's lecture, while my own wetness dried on my thighs.

The next time he accosted me, a few days later, I pushed him against the wall of the empty classroom. Curfew started in less than fifteen minutes, so I dropped to my knees and worked his trousers open. He hissed when I pulled out his semi-hard cock and gave it a few strokes with my hand. When I kissed the head, he groaned, his head falling back against the wall as his hands wrapped themselves in my hair, guiding me.

I was thankful for the guidance, I hadn't ever done this before, but judging by how quickly he came, he liked it anyway. His softening cock twitched hard when I met his eyes and swallowed. He yanked me up by the shoulders and kissed me hard.

The warning bell for curfew rung just as we left the classroom. He slapped my arse as he walked away and I had a definite spring in my step as I made my way back to the Gryffindor common room.

The rest of the year progressed similarly. Rowle would accost me, we'd have some fun for a few minutes, then part ways. It became harder once Umbridge began enforcing more and more rules, but honestly, it was a big castle. We found ways around it. My grades should have suffered, but they didn't. We probably should have had a conversation about what the hell we were even doing, but we didn't.

When the school year ended, he found me one last time on the train. We had another proper shag. We hadn't had one in months, and my injuries prevented anything too energetic. He hissed at the scar on my chest, and I turned away. I was reaching to put my shirt back on before he stopped me.

"Who?" he asked, staring directly into my eyes, his hands tense on my thighs.

"MacNair," I replied. We'd never talked about the war. We'd never talked about the fight that I was going to have to fight. Or how he was very likely on the other side of it. We fucked, we shagged, we had the occasional light conversation. But this was always a subject we'd never broached.

He nodded and said nothing else. Instead, he kissed every inch of that still healing wound. I had never felt so worshipped by a man until that day. He touched every inch of me with both fingers and lips, reverently as if I were precious to him.

I didn't ask him what he was thinking when we parted. I didn't say anything as he kissed me hard and fierce. That kiss tasted like goodbye. Goodbye for good. He wouldn't be at Hogwarts next year to accost me every other day. It would just be me alone.

Walking back to the compartment I shared with Harry and Ron, I didn't let the tears fall, although I desperately wanted to. But I couldn't. Harry and Ron didn't know about Rowle. Nobody knew about Rowle, and I didn't know if it was because our relationship was so casual—although at this moment, nothing about this felt casual—or if it was because I was ashamed of him in some way. He was a Slytherin. A pure-blood. From a traditionally Death Eater family. They didn't know and I couldn't tell them now. Instead, I focused on what the next year would bring. Voldemort was out in the open now. What did that mean for Rowle?

October 1996

I thought I was over him. Really, I did. We'd had no contact all summer long. How could he contact me when I was either at my parents or the Burrow? Did he even know where the Burrow was? I didn't even know if he had an owl.

And really, it's not like I contacted him either. So, I worked hard, all summer long, to get over him. It wasn't love. It couldn't be love. We had just been shagging. Shagging didn't mean love, even if it felt like it did sometimes.

The first Hogsmeade weekend was beautiful that year. The sun was shining brightly and it was unseasonably warm. I had worn a sundress to enjoy the last bit of sunshine before the Scottish winter descended for the next six months. Harry and Ron were still in Zonkos and I was making my way to Tomes and Scrolls when a familiar hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm.

"Finn? What are you doing here?" I barely had time to ask the question before he crushed me to him and had his lips on mine.

"I had to see you," he muttered between kisses, turning us so that my back was against the building.

"I'm not fucking you in an alley," I replied. Although, I probably would have. He smirked at me and grabbed my hand, pulling me along behind him.

We went up a set of stairs behind Zonkos and entered a sparsely furnished apartment.

"You're living here?" I asked. He shrugged and didn't say anything as he led me to a bedroom.

He was not living there. No, he rented that apartment to have a place to take me when he came to Hogwarts needing a shag. I snuck out of Hogwarts more times in my sixth year than any year previous. He'd send an owl with a date and a time, and I would do what I could to make it happen. I only got caught once, by Snape.

August 1997

By August we knew we weren't returning to Hogwarts. The Ministry had fallen, the Order was in shambles, and Harry had a 100,000 Galleon bounty on his head. Neither Ron nor I rated nearly that high, but still. Going to Hogwarts would have been suicide. I had resigned myself to having ended my relationship with Rowle once more. It's not like I could receive an owl while on the run with the boys. We needed to focus, to find the rest of the Horcruxes and figure out how in the bloody hell we were going to destroy them.

Grimmauld Place was our hideout for now, but I had no idea how long we were going to be able to stay there. Right now, we were working on getting the Polyjuice Potion brewed so we could do something completely insane. Dolores Umbridge was perhaps scarier than Voldemort, at least to me, and Harry's whole idea was to sneak into the Ministry and steal a necklace she apparently wore around her neck at all times.

I agreed we needed to get the necklace, but the level of danger this plan would put us in was frightening. Ron was all for it, typical Gryffindor that he was. I was less hopeful and had sent a discreet Patronus to both Remus and Arthur with a tentative date of the break-in. If shit got squirrelly, I wanted backup.

What I didn't expect was that after the break-in was successful, we'd been tracked back to Grimmauld Place.

The doorbell, of all things, rang the evening after the break-in. Nobody in the Order knew we were here. We'd disabled Moody's trap for Snape, but Walburga's portrait was on the wall still. She immediately started screaming obscenities.

"Out! Out of my house! Traitors! Mudbloods! Out!"

"Oh shut up, you old bag," I muttered as I trotted past her, flicking my wand at her curtains. I'd cast a silencing spell on them and they worked to muffle her, but they definitely didn't silence her completely.

I shifted my weight for a moment before the door. There was no peephole, no handy nearby window. No way to tell who the hell was on the other side. Really, it should only have been someone in the Order, but I had a very bad feeling about it.

"Who is it?" Harry called down.

"I dunno yet. Stay up there!" I warned him. He and Ron were poised to run, brooms in hand if necessary. We'd pre-arranged a meetup spot in case we got split-up earlier in the day at the Ministry and I confirmed it both with them before I went down the stairs.

Ron wanted to do this, but I knew that Harry needed Ron more than he needed me. If it was a friend, it wouldn't be a problem. If it was a foe, I had the best chance of getting out of it. Better than either of them, anyway.

"Come on, you can do it," I muttered under my breath, psyching myself up to open the door. The doorbell rang again, setting off another round of obscenities from behind Walburga's curtains.

I palmed my wand, pointed it chest high and whipped the door open all in one movement.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" we said simultaneously.

He pushed past me, his friend slamming the door shut behind him.

"What's going on, Rowle," his friend hissed as we stared at one another.

My heart beat fast because there was no reason he should be here. It was clear he wasn't expecting me to be here, which meant… I didn't want to think about what that meant. I knew what it meant, but I definitely did not want to think about it.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, staring up at him.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Then with a quick sideways glance to his friend, he lifted his left sleeve.

There it was. The thing I had feared all this time. He didn't have it last year and it was red, angry looking. Fresh. The snake hissed at me as it twined its way through the skull.

"You, stupid, fucking child!" I hissed, backing up until my back hit the wall. "You complete fucking idiot! How? Why?"

Seeing it on his arm broke my brain. I couldn't think, couldn't speak.

"It's not my fault," he began and I laughed.

"You have to be willing to get it," I spat.

"Dolohov," he said, gesturing to his friend, he lifted his arm to show me a matching Dark Mark.

"Who told you about this place?" I asked. I had to know how it was compromised. Hopefully, I could get word to someone before they took me to Voldemort. I still had my wand after all and neither of them even had theirs drawn.

"Snape," Dolohov said. "He said it would be an easy mission for first-timers. He didn't seem to think anyone would be here. Especially not a high-value target."

I glanced uneasily at Rowle.

"Give us a minute," Rowle muttered to his friend. Dolohov frowned, but nodded and turned to go into the study behind him. The study didn't lead anywhere and it only had one door. It was a safe enough place for a baby Death Eater. At least, Harry and Ron were keeping quiet upstairs. No doubt they were listening in on a pair of Extendable Ears though.

"I don't want to talk to you," I said in a low voice the moment the door closed behind Dolohov.

"I'm sorry. I knew that this was going to be a problem, but it was either take the Dark Mark or my mother would be killed. I really didn't have much of a choice," he said. His eyes were pleading and he held his hands, palm up.

I snorted. "Do you really think I'm ever going to be okay with this? You vowed to kill my kind, Finn. You joined an organization that is devoted to eradicating me and everyone like me off of the planet!"

"Hermione…"

"Get. Out." I snapped, pointing to the door. "Get out and don't come back. We won't be here when you do."

"Please don't do this," he begged me. I was sure I could see tears in his eyes, but what else could I do? He had a direct link to Voldemort on his fucking arm. It wasn't like I could take him into hiding with us. It was better for both of us to cut off all communication now. It had to be.

I pointed my wand at his chest. "Either you leave of your own volition, or I make you leave," I told him. My voice was low, hoarse, but my eyes were dry and my hand was steady. I was prepared to do what I had to do to keep Harry safe. Whatever my feelings for Rowle were, nothing trumped Harry's safety.

"Please," he said again, his eyes were shiny with tears. My lip trembled, but I bit it and shook my head, raising my wand higher.

"Leave."

"Dolohov!" he shouted, his hands raised. "Let's go," he said the moment Dolohov opened the door to the study. Dolohov took in my pointed wand and Rowle's raised hands. He lifted an eyebrow and opened the front door, walking through it. Rowle followed behind him. The moment he was over the threshold, I slammed the door shut and threw every locking and warding spell I knew at it.

"We gotta go!" I shouted as I dashed up the stairs to where the boys were waiting.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked me angrily.

"Later," I snapped. "Baby Death Eaters are probably calling in reinforcements as we speak!"

I grabbed both their hands and turned left; Disapparating with a sharp snap. I Disapparated four more times, to ensure no followers before I felt like we were finally safe. It was time for the camping portion of our trip to begin.

November 1997

We don't know how they found us. Snatchers heard something in the woods maybe? I tripped over a root, half-buried in the ground, stumbling. Ron yanked me up by the back of my shirt and we kept running.

"We need to get Harry," I hissed to Ron, tossing stunning spells over my shoulder when I could.

Ron increased his pace, catching up to Harry. Part of me wanted to send them on by themselves. I could hold my own if I had to, but we didn't have a meeting spot. And I had the tent and everything else. They wouldn't survive without me. I put on a burst of speed to catch up.

That's when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was about twenty meters away, keeping pace. He was shooting sparks at me, and, was that a tripping jinx tossed over his shoulder?

I heard a Death Eater fall behind me. That and the build confirmed it. What in the hell was Rowle doing? I barely had time to consider it as Ron reached out, snatching my wrist and twisting so hard into an Apparition that when we landed, we flew apart from each other. My arm yanked so hard, I feared I had broken it.

"Fuck, Ron," I muttered, rubbing my shoulder, hoping that it was just strained.

"Sorry," he panted. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered sullenly.

"Give it here," I demanded, standing quickly. Harry had been wearing the locket for too long. It affected him more than it did either me or Ron. I didn't want to think about what that meant. It seemed tied to the reason that he could tap into Voldemort's head. I didn't want to think about what that meant either, but given the way the Horcrux made Ron and I act… well, I was getting a sneaking suspicion.

There were lots of things I suddenly didn't want to think about. Thinking about them was too painful, or futile. Did Dumbledore know Harry was a Horcrux? Did Harry know? I was afraid to say anything for fear of what Ron would do or say. While the Horcrux affected Harry the most, Ron was the least stable of the three of us. He'd never missed a meal in his life and made it quite plain to us every time we had to do without.

Then there was Rowle. Had he been helping us? Or was that wishful thinking on my part during a time of stress? And hunger. I'd been giving Ron and Harry both more and more of my portion of food. Hunger could lead to hallucinations.

"Here," Harry thrust the locket into my hands and pulled the beaded bag off my wrist. Shoving his whole arm inside, he pulled out the tent and began setting it up as I slipped my head through the locket.

"Got anything to eat?" Ron asked hopefully.

I sighed. Of course, we didn't have anything to eat. He knew that. I had to gear myself up for another fight. Another squabbling match. And then go out and find something for the bottomless pit to eat.

December 1997

Ron left us. Two days ago, he got fed up and just left. All this time, I'd been sacrificing food, sacrificing my safety so that Ron would be here for Harry. So that Ron would be the person Harry needed him to be. Turns out, Ron was no match for the Horcrux.

I wore it most of the time now. It started to become infused with my skin, but I didn't dare tell Harry. He was low enough, he didn't need to also be wearing the Horcrux.

I also didn't tell him how it began speaking to me. How the sibilant words dripped into my ears day and night. How it whispered to me of Rowle. I knew they were lies. Voldemort was incapable of telling the truth. I knew, in my heart of hearts, it was lies. But it didn't stop me from listening.

Harry was still trying to listen on the wireless for the Potterwatch program. Hoping for word of Ron, I think, but maybe for word of Ginny as well. It was Christmas Eve that we heard about a Death Eater attack. MacNair had been killed.

I couldn't stop my mind from wondering if Rowle had been responsible. Even if what I had seen in October had been my imagination, the way he had looked when he heard MacNair was responsible for my injuries at the end of fifth year made me suspicious. I had nothing but my gut to go on.

I blame the Horcrux for Godric's Hollow. If I hadn't been wearing it continuously for weeks, if it hadn't been whispering to me, if I hadn't been listening to it, maybe I could have stood a chance in talking Harry out of visiting. As it was, I was no match for Harry's will power.

It was a shitshow, of course. Unsurprising really, we were both hungry, too hungry, too trusting by half. Following the thing that was pretending to be Bathilda Bagshot was incredibly stupid. How we tripped the jinx bringing the Death Eaters down on us, I don't know. I was sure I had caught them all. Unless Nagini was able to call them some way?

The worst was, as I was poised to kill Nagini for good, getting rid of one of the Horcruxes, that's when the Death Eaters showed up.

Despite all that, my suspicions about Rowle proved correct. Harry and I definitely would not have gotten away if it weren't for him. I still don't know how he did it, but he did. He managed to get us beyond the Apparition wards long enough for us to get away.

Last I saw he was being Crucio'd by Rodolphus Lestrange for the lapse in judgment. Harry thought my collapse after we had gotten away was due to exhaustion and hunger. In part, I'm sure it was, but my heart was also breaking, watching Rowle's body arc in unnatural ways and knowing I could do nothing to stop it.

March 1998

I was too tired for this, too hungry for this. I could barely fight back against Bellatrix Lestrange as she yanked me across the marble floor at Malfoy Manor and tossed me down as if I were a ragdoll. I closed my eyes, tears leaking from them, I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to die like this, but I could see it. I could see my death in her eyes, I could see the promise of what was to come.

"Where did you get the sword?" her voice was deceptively soft. The knife at my throat was exceedingly hard and cold.

"We found it!" I gasped. "I swear to you, we found it!"

"Filthy, lying, mudblood!" she screamed into my face, spittle flying. I am not proud, I shrank back, squeezing my eyes shut in the face of her fury. "I know you were in my vault! How did you get in there? Tell me!"

"We didn't! I swear, we didn't!" I begged. The knife dug in deep to my throat and I tried to push her off of me, I truly did.

I don't know what it was that I heard, but something drew my attention to the corner of the room and there he was. What was he doing here of all places? His eyes locked with mine and suddenly, I could bear it. If only long enough to get out of here. To survive this and live to see another day.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, mudblood," she snapped, slapping my face harshly. I grunted, losing Rowle's eyes as she filled my field of vision once more. Her crazed eyes scared me, but I felt a new determination creeping through me. I wasn't going to die on this floor in front of Rowle. I couldn't. I couldn't do that to him. So I wouldn't.

"I swear to you, we found it," I said quietly, the knife still at my throat, her other hand gripped my chin tightly. "It must be a copy if the real one is in your vault. Gringotts is impenetrable. We wouldn't be able to get into your vault even if we tried." I hoped that being reasonable would soothe her anger. If I could keep her talking, perhaps Harry and Ron would find a way free. I could hear them shouting in the dungeon beneath me.

"Lies! All you do is lie!" Her spittle hit me in the eye and I flinched back from her. She scrambled, sitting on my chest then as she held my left arm out. "I'll teach the ickle mudblood not to lie," she hissed as her knife began to carve into my skin.

I won't lie, I screamed then, bucking my malnourished body as best I could to get her off of me. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad, what she was doing to my arm. I thought for sure she was attempting an amputation it hurt that bad, but when I managed to see around her, I could see she was only carving something. Only. As if having a word carved into my skin was any better.

A hiss drew my attention to the corner of the room, and I caught Rowle's eyes again. He grounded me. I still screamed I could still hear Ron and Harry screaming for me, but Rowle helped, a little.

Bellatrix stood quickly when she was done carving, I broke my gaze from Rowle's to look at my arm. I felt numb. Until I heard her shout, "Crucio!"

Then all hell broke loose as I screamed and writhed on the floor. I thought I wanted to die earlier. Now I truly begged for death as every nerve in my body was set on fire. It felt as if glass was being shoved under my fingernails. Every bone felt like it was breaking over and over again.

When it was over there was nothing I could do but lay there, panting, hoping it wouldn't start all over. A loud clang drew my attention to the side where Rowle was leading a goblin up from the dungeon.

"Well?" Bellatrix asked. "Is it real?"

The goblin inspected the sword and I knew we were fucked. The goblin had no reason to lie, and if he too was a prisoner, I was sure he would do anything to get free.

"No," the goblin said shortly without explaining himself.

"That can't be true," Bellatrix snapped, pointing her wand at the goblin. "Check again!"

A moment later, another bang from the dungeon was heard and every head turned toward the dungeon stairs where Harry and Ron were rushing up, wands up and casting at anyone who was moving. I tried to get up. I needed to get up, but my body wasn't working. Not like it should. I managed to get on my elbows before collapsing once more.

It was pure pandemonium, chaos, all around me as the small battle waged. I couldn't even tell how many people were there, all I could do was try to catch my breath and prepare to move again when someone gripped me under my arms and started dragging me across the floor. I looked up.

"Oh, thank Merlin," I whispered. His bright blue gaze was steady on mine, but I could see the fear. He was terrified and a moment later there was a crash as the chandelier I had been lying under fell to the floor.

"Be safe," he whispered, throwing a spell over his shoulder as someone else gripped me hard on the shoulder.

"No!" I shouted, although my throat was so ragged from screaming it was more like a whisper. I reached my hand out, attempting to grab him just as we Apparated away.

May 1998

It should have been over. It was supposed to end. The Final Battle they had begun calling it. But it wasn't the final battle at all. Voldemort didn't die. He ran, like a coward, he ran from the battle to fight another day. The only good thing that came of it was having destroyed his Horcruxes. All of them. Even the one in Harry was gone now. He was mortal.

Unless he made another one.

Harry thought he was too damaged to be able to go through the ritual. I wasn't discounting anything. Voldemort had proved to be a crafty bastard and while his forces were decimated in the Battle of Hogwarts, so were ours. And we had far fewer people to begin with.

Worse? Snape was dead. Our only spy, our only look into what was going on within Voldemort's ranks was gone. We were officially fucked.

The carnage that was strewn across the ground of Hogwarts was horrifying. But more horrifying was that this was going to continue. The war wasn't over. It should have been over. Merlin, did I want it to be over, but it wasn't.

The Order was going to have to pick up the pieces and begin organizing for real. Safe houses, training, learning Unforgivables. The works. And while it might be something I'd take to naturally, I was so damned tired all I wanted to do was sleep for about a week. And maybe eat some food that someone else had made.

"Come on," Harry said, tiredly, leading me away from the grounds and into the castle proper. It too was filled with destruction. The Hufflepuff common room was miraculously intact. Wards and all, so that's where the survivors from the side of the Light met. Hogwarts was never going to be the same again. The Ministry was still in Voldemort's control. We were still the rebels and now, with the loss of Hogwarts, we'd be hard-pressed to lure anyone onto our side. Especially anyone who had been successful in keeping their head down for the last year.

I had never felt so hopeless as I did then, slumping down onto a couch. Luna pressed a mug of tea into my hands. I nodded my thanks, but couldn't force any words out of my mouth. I was afraid if I opened it, I would start crying and never stop.

Worst of all? I hadn't seen Rowle at the battle. Was he dead? Did he die for saving me back at Malfoy Manor? Had he been at the battle and been an early casualty? I had no idea.

September 1998

The relief that flooded my body was entirely misplaced. I was in a fight for my life. I should have only been feeling adrenaline as I blocked and threw curses with a speed I hadn't had even six months ago. Kingsley had been training us hard.

But there he was. Whole, healthy even. Looking bigger than before, but so fucking alive I could have cried.

I ducked around a corner, allowing myself a moment to breathe.

My moment was interrupted when a large body fairly slammed into me. Fuck. I brought my wand up to curse them when I caught sight of his gaze.

"Oh, thank fuck," I muttered, throwing my arms around his waist and burying my head into his chest. I didn't care that he was my enemy. That I was technically supposed to be fighting against him. I was just so bloody relieved that he was alright. Alive and whole in my arms and Godric, he smelled fucking divine.

"I had to see you," he muttered into my hair. "Fuck, I had to see you, Hermione. I—"

"Shh," I hummed, tilting my head back.

Our lips met in a frantic kiss as he pushed me harder into the wall. My hands tangled in his hair. I was so desperate for his touch, so desperate to feel his skin against mine.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted from somewhere nearby.

I wanted to cry. To scream and shout at the injustice of it all as I tore myself away from him.

"15 Appleby Lane, Taunton," Rowle said, backing away from me. "I'm there every evening. Alone. Nobody knows about it."

I nodded as he turned the corner and Ron came running toward me from the other direction.

"We gotta go!" he shouted, grabbing my arm and dragging me after him.

October 1998

If you're thinking I went directly to Rowle, then I hate to tell you that you're wrong. I wanted to, Circe, did I want too. But he was still a Death Eater. I could admit to myself that I was definitely in love with him now, but I couldn't willingly put myself in danger.

No, first I scoped it out. For three weeks, I watched the house. Trying to determine a pattern in his leavings and goings. Trying to see if he was telling the truth.

As far as I could see, he was.

And yet still, something held me back.

January 1999

Another battle, another slew of deaths on both sides. At this point, it was a war of attrition and with their superior numbers, it felt like Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters was winning.

Something needed to change. The Order was agreed on that.

"A spy," I said. We were in a safe house, senior members meeting that I normally wouldn't attend, but Rowle had been on my mind continuously since September—the last time I had seen him.

"It has merit," Kingsley agreed. "However, we're lacking the tools to recruit one."

"I know somebody," I volunteered. I ignored the way Harry and Ron both grimaced. They knew about Rowle. After Grimmauld Place, I'd had to tell them something. So I told them the truth. Ron had railed for hours, Harry had just looked disappointed.

Kingsley and Lupin eyed me long and hard. "And do you think this somebody would be willing to risk life and limb to become a Death Eater, climb the ranks, and report back to us?"

"He's already a Death Eater. All we have to do is convince him to spy for us." My hands were shaking, but I clasped them tightly in front of me. I had no idea if Rowle would be willing to do this and part of me felt like I was signing a warrant for his death, but I couldn't live like this anymore. I couldn't be at war for however many more years it took to end this conflict. We needed something to go our way and this felt like a last resort.

"Will that be hard?" Lupin asked. He looked as world-weary as I felt. Wolfsbane supplies were impossible to get, making his life harder than it needed to be.

"I don't know, but it's worth me asking," I replied.

"And you can get in touch with him?" McGonagall asked.

I nodded my reply, unwilling to elaborate. They didn't know I had been watching his house for months. I'd been too cowardly to actually go to his house, but if they agreed, I'd be changing that immediately.

"Harry?" Kingsley asked.

"What else do we have? We can't recruit more than we have been doing. Nobody in the ICW is willing to help us. We have to do something," Harry said.

"Do you know who it is?" Lupin asked.

I shot Harry a sharp look and he shook his head. I tried to not sigh in relief. The fewer people who knew about Rowle, the better.

"Do it," McGonagall said. "We won't win if we don't have help."

I nodded, relieved.

February 1999

It still took me a couple of weeks to muster up the courage to knock on his door. We hadn't seen each other in months and as much as I was dying to see him, I was also busy psyching myself out. I was sure he was going to be angry that it had taken me this long to come to him.

I was equally as sure that he was going to turn my request down. He would have to be insane to become a spy for Voldemort. But we needed the information so badly. I just had to knock on the door. Talk to him. Make my request. And hope that he didn't hate me.

Knocking on his door was scarier than being in battle. At this point I was battle-hardened. The adrenaline still pumped, but I was calm, collected even as I fought.

This was nothing like being in a battle. My heart raced, my palms sweat, my breath came in rapid pants and I was a little afraid I was going to hyperventilate.

The door opened swiftly. He only stared down at me a moment, before dragging me inside and slamming the door.

"I didn't think you were ever going to come," he said as he led me to the sitting room.

"I wasn't sure I was either," I admitted. He settled me on the sofa and sat next to me, his hands holding mine and for the first time in months, I felt alright. I felt at home, comfortable in my own skin. I felt free and alive and I had no idea how I was going to ask him to risk his life more than he was doing so already.

"I'm happy you're here," he said, tightening his grip on my hands. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I've… I've made the biggest mistake."

"Finn…" I trailed off as my throat threatened to close, a lump forming and my eyes stung with tears.

"I made a mistake, Hermione," he repeated, his clear, blue eyes boring into mine. "A terrible one that I can never make up for. I feel like I have been living a half-life. Salazar, fuck, I'd do anything to go back in time and undo it all."

"But your mum," I protested. I'd never even met his mum, but if he felt half of what I felt for mine… I knew I'd do everything I could to protect her. Hell, I had. I Obliviated every memory of me and sent her off to live a new life a world away from me.

"Dead, she's dead," he whispered, his eyes clouding with tears as he dropped his head. "The Dark Lord killed her."

"Oh, fuck, Finn," I murmured, climbing into his lap to wrap my arms around him as he buried his face against my neck. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I smoothed his hair back as he cried, his tears were hot against my skin and I couldn't stop my own from leaking out. I kissed the top of his head, holding him close while he grieved. Probably for the first time.

"No," he said, pulling back, and looking up at me. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I made a terrible decision and all I've done is suffer for it."

I tucked his hair behind his ears, cupping his face. "I'm still sorry," I said and pressed my lips to his for a long moment. I wanted desperately to lose myself in him, but I didn't dare. We had much more to discuss. I pulled back after a long moment, brushing the tears from his face.

His hands flexed on my hips and I dropped my head.

"I have to ask you something," I whispered. I couldn't look at him. Merlin, I wanted to, but I couldn't look him in the eye as I asked him to do something so fucking risky.

"Anything. Name it and I'll do it," he promised.

I shook my head, tears spilling over again and I sniffed hard. "Don't say that until you know what it is."

"Anything," he growled. He lifted a hand from my hips to cup my face and I couldn't stop myself from leaning into it. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his skin on mine.

"I want you to know that I hate having to do this," I said, my eyes still closed. It wasn't fair to ask him to do this without looking at him. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. His eyes were so full of love and adoration that it broke my heart.

"Anything," he said again.

"We need a spy," I said simply. "We're going to lose if we don't have someone on the inside. Helping us to end this thing for good. We had Snape, but…" I trailed off, unable to go on.

"Yes," he said, his face splitting in a huge grin. "Yes, I'll be your spy. Yes, I'll spy on the Dark Lord for you. Yes." He pulled her forward, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips.

I wanted to sink into his embrace, I wanted to spend the night in his arms, but there was still so much more to discuss.

"Occlumency," I said. "You'll have to become a master of Occlumency as soon as possible."

"Done," he replied with a small smirk. "There are Death Eaters who aren't entirely pleased with how this whole thing is shaping up."

I gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

His smirk turned into a grin. "Very."

I wrapped my arms around his neck then, pressing my lips to his once more and allowing him to take it farther. Much, much farther.

We ended up in his bed, limbs tangled around each other, panting and enjoying the feel of skin on glorious skin.

March 1999

Rowle was called for the first time since I asked him to spy. It was expected, the Death Eaters met about once a month regularly, but still shocking when his arm started burning.

He hissed and grabbed his arm. Grunting he got out of bed quickly and dressed even quicker. Throwing on his heavy, black, Death Eater robes made a stone sink in my stomach. He was really going. Suddenly, I wasn't sure of anything. I desperately wanted to stop him, but I knew I couldn't. His silver mask gleamed in his hand. Evil personified, I thought, unable to tear my eyes from it. He bent over, pressing a small kiss to my forehead as I clutched the sheets around my chest. Before he left the bedroom, he donned the masked and locked eyes with me, I shivered at the fearsome sight of a Death Eater in full robes before me. And with that last, lingering look, he was out the door.

All I could think was that I had sent him to his death and I was terrified.

~Fin~