Fic dedicated to the wonderful, Hollowg1rl.

This fic is AU. Both Regulus and Sirius are still alive. I've fiddled the ages a little, so that Regulus and Rabastan are 36 and attended Hogwarts together. Hermione is 18. It takes place just a few days before Hermione, Harry and Ron are due to go in the Horcrux hunt.

Chapter One

The rain came out of nowhere. A hard driving downpour that exploded from the sky with a loud crack and instantly soaked Hermione to the skin. She shivered as the cold droplets seeped through her clothes and onto her flesh, coating her body in ice. Bending over to protect the books she'd only just purchased, she rushed into the nearest shop she could find. A dusty looking place that displayed several large paintings in the window. By the time she'd fumbled the door open and stepped inside, she was shaking like a leaf and dripping a puddle onto the stained wooden floor.

Holding the books away from her drenched robes she glanced around the dark interior. It was rectangular in shape, small and claustrophobic, like it had been squeezed between the neighbouring shops as an afterthought. There was a candle sat on the cluttered counter top, throwing out a flickering yellow light that made the shadows dance and twist in a sinister way that unsettled her. She couldn't see the back of the room at all, the weak light unable to penetrate the solid darkness that hovered there. Dozens of faded paintings dotted the walls, each circled by an elaborate gilded frame. For a long second Hermione stared at them, taking in the half finished landscapes and blank canvases. They were neither good, nor bad, merely average representations of rather dreary locations. A forest. A moor. A field.

But for some reason they made her feel uneasy. A squirmy, churning sensation that felt like her stomach was being stirred with a fork. She stepped further into the shop, breathing in the sharp scent of linseed and dry feathers. It was unpleasant enough that she wrinkled her nose, gently snorting the smell away. On the wall in front of her there was a windswept beach scene, with slate grey waves crashing onto a sandy shore, the white breakers dusting the sand with lacy foam. She leant closer, taking in the textured surface and individual brush strokes, marvelling at the magic used to capture an image and forever hold in constant motion.

Dimly she was aware of the door rattling open behind her, and heavy footsteps entering the shop. The rain continued to make a loud hissing noise as it pounded the street outside. Yet, she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the simple seascape. It wasn't even pretty. Not really. The colours were washed out and as her eyes traced the blurred shapes of rocks that hugged the beach, she spotted a simple ram-shackled hut set in the corner. It was sitting on the edge of a grassy piece of land, it's door facing the crashing waves. Beyond the hut the grey smudge of a mountain ate up most of the sky.

Frowning she reached forward to press her fingers to the rough surface.

"Do you always touch what doesn't belong to you?" An amused voice drawled from behind. "How very Gryffindor of you, Granger."

Hermione snatched her hand from the painting and spun around. Two men were standing beside the counter-top. Each dressed in black robes that sparkled with diamond bright raindrops. They were of a similar height. One had thick, nut-brown waves of hair and deep blue eyes, and the other had raven locks and a steely grey stare that seemed to knife straight through her.

Her heart thudded once, twice, before frantically catching up with itself and slamming against her ribs in pure panic.

Rabastan Lestrange and Regulus Black.

The hands clutching the books to her chest tightened until the knuckles bleed white. Every muscle straining against the urge to bolt and never look back. Her gaze flew to the door behind them, gauging whether or not she could make it to the rain flooded street unscathed.

"Now, now, Granger," Rabastan said, "we wouldn't want you to get wet," he grinned cheekily and ran his eyes down her body, "Not yet anyway."

Heat flooded her cheeks as she dropped her books and fumbled for the wand hidden up the sleeve of her robe. "Stay away from me."

Lestrange held up his hands in mock surrender. "No need for that, darling girl. I was only being friendly."

A strangled laugh caught in the back of her throat. The world truly had gone mad if two Death Eaters were professing to be friendly to her. She adjusted the grip on her wand, eyes once again darting to the door. It looked further away this time. She knew logically that it wasn't. It was fear crawling into her brain and playing tricks on her, but still, reaching it would be impossible. Not only because of the distance, but also because they were standing in front of the bloody thing.

Her eyes darted nervously back to them. Rabastan was looking around the shop with half hearted interest, his lightly tanned hands now tucked into the pockets of his robes. Rugulus was still staring at her. A coolly assessing look that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up in startled fear. The hand holding her wand was slick with sweat and trembling badly. She shouldn't have come. The others would be furious with her. She was furious with herself. Her life finished, all so she could have some more books on subjects she already knew everything about. And of course she couldn't wait, not even a minute for Tonks to check that Ginny was safe. No, she'd just had to wander off, arrogantly assuming she'd be safe to visit her favourite bookshop. The one that nobody knew about because she hadn't wanted them to know it sold more questionable titles. Now here she was, facing her worst nightmare and none of her friends would ever know. Harry desperately needed her and she'd practically delivered herself to Voldemort on a silver platter.

But how could she have known? There hadn't been a Death Eater sighting in months. Everyone was breathing a much needed sigh of relief, even if they all knew it was just the calm before the storm hit them with vicious force. The Weasley's had even organised Bill and Fluer's wedding for next week. Sure it was safe enough to hold the event.

Blinking away the threat of impending tears, she jutted out her chin and glared. "You won't take me without a fight."

A delighted smile curled Rabastan's lips, "you're going to play with us then?"

Hermione froze in terror, her churning stomach dropping to her feet. "I-"

"We didn't come here for you," Regulus' voice coolly interrupted, pointedly ignoring Rabastan's pout. "We merely wished to shelter from the rain."

"Oh." She glanced again at the door, her eyes wide and desperate. When she looked back, Rabastan was standing beside her. The breath hissed out of her lungs, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. She hadn't seen or heard him move. And yet suddenly, he was close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him in tumbling waves and smell the light spicy scent of soap he'd used in the morning.

He smiled wickedly at her yelp of alarm, staring directly into her eyes as he slowly began to crouch down. Hermione pressed herself against the wall, flinching when the frame of the painting dug into her spine. She flicked the tip of her wand against the side of his cheek, her hand shaking but steady enough to cast if she needed to. Her mouth had dried to the point where swallowing became difficult and every breath an effort she almost didn't want to make. The smile never left Rabastan's face, if anything it grew wider when her wand touched his skin. Perfect white teeth glinting in the flickering light.

It seemed to last forever. Hermione clenching her wand, Rabastan crouched at her feet, Regulus hovering like an icy shadow on the edge of her vision. And then Lestrange was pushing back up. Hermione had to tip her head back slightly to maintain the stare. Determined not to let him out of her sight and perform one of his sneaking up on her tricks again.

"Here," he pushed the books he'd picked up into her stomach, "take your books and go, darling girl." The smile melted from his face, leaving behind harder, colder features. "Before we change our minds."

Hermione carefully removed her wand from his cheek, slowly dropping it to her side so she could reach for the books. "Thank you."

Amusement lurked in the depths of his eyes at her politeness. She wanted to tell him that she didn't mean it. Not really. It was the manners her parents had drilled into her from childhood, polite words that were now just a reflex. Words said before her brain had a chance to stop them. In reality she wasn't grateful to him at all. Why would she be? He was a killer. A death Eater. One of Voldemort's favoured few.

Taking her books, Hermione stepped past him, twisting at the hip so she could keep them both in sight. When she was nearer to Regulus, she switched her attention to him, holding her breath as she inched past. The edge of his robes brushed hers in passing and she shuddered at the blank way he watched her. He was nothing at all like Sirius, who practically vibrated with life and reeked of mischief. Oh, they looked the same. Same eyes. Same hair colour. They even shared the same aristocratic features. But they were fundamentally different. She risked one more look at him before reaching the door. His face had never seen humour or had the skin stretched by a smile. She doubted very much that he even knew how.

Turning her back she reached for the handle and pulled. It didn't move. She tried again, this time rattling the door in it's frame. It still wouldn't budge. Biting her lip she tired one more time with the same result.

"The door won't open." She twisted back around to face the two Death Eaters. "You locked it didn't you?"

"What?" Rabastan strode forward, brushing her aside and trying the door for himself.

It didn't move.

Frowning he glanced at Regulus before withdrawing his wand and pointing it at the warped wood.

"Alohomora,"he muttered.

The door remained stubbornly shut.

"Fuck," he said. More perplexed than worried.

Still staring at the door, he gestured distractedly for Hermione to back away. She complied, walking backwards until she bumped into Regulus. Her elbow caught his ribs and the books dropped out of her arms, hitting the floor with a collection of dull thuds. She stared in horror, a quick apology springing from her lips but the Death Eater ignored her, instead watching as Rabastan cast spell after spell at the uncooperative door.

Neither of them seemed the slightest bit alarmed. Bemused, perhaps irritated, but not alarmed. Unlike Hermione, whose skin was trying to crawl free of her body, she could feel it, itching and slithering on her bones. Her teeth were chattering and a little voice in the back of her mind was telling her to run, run, run. But where? Her frantic brain throws up. How?

She turns from the two Death Eaters and her jumble of books, taking a hesitant step towards the back of the shop. A cool hand circles her wrist, fingers biting deep and halting her advance. Her head whipped around to see that Regulus has reached across to grab her. He isn't looking at her, all she can see is a slice of jaw and the curve of a cheek as he continues to watch Rabastan throw progressively more powerful spells at the door.

"Try the window," Black murmurs.

Lestrange stops mid cast, pivoting slightly and aiming his wand at the dirt smeared glass. A glittering jet of blue light flies from the tip of his wand, hitting the panes and... doing nothing.

"Fuck it!" his voice lashed out, making Hermione flinch.

A grim silence fell around them. The rising tension thickening the air and making it hard to breathe. Rabastan and Regulus glanced at each other in a quick moment of unspoken communication. When Regulus pulled out his wand and shoved her between the two of them, she knew they were in deep trouble. More trouble than two Death Eaters stumbling upon her, seemingly by accident.

Her own wand was still clasped tightly between her fingers, the smooth wood pressing reassuringly into her skin. She licked her dry lips, tasting the bitter mineral of cast spells. Behind her, Rabastan drew closer, his warm breath brushing the top of her head.

"Lead the way then, Reg." His voice held the tiniest hint of humour as he addressed the other Death Eater.

Regulus replied with silence. Icy and splinter edged. He took one step forward, then halted at a shuffling sound that came from the back of the shop. Hermione held her breath. Every muscle tensing in fear. She honestly thought that if someone were to tap her at that moment, she would shatter into a thousand pieces. The shuffling sound came closer, morphing into the dry scrape of footsteps. Unable to bare looking at the midnight shoulder of Regulus any longer, Hermione leant to the side and peeked around his arm.

And blinked at what she saw.

Goodness, I'm so freaking mean ;) But in all seriousness this is shorter than I wanted to post. And poor Hollowg1rl is going to be like 'huh?', she told me it was about Hermione going on a horcrux hunt with the two Death Eaters. Well, it was supposed to be about that, but then I watched a film (See if you can guess which one in a few chapters time), and this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. So the original chapter was scrapped and this one was written instead. In a day. Which I am never doing again.

Please review and leave me your thoughts :)