A/N: *scampers past*

*flings the chapter at you*

*lands it in your morning coffee*

*throws both arms up in triumph*

*snickers as you splutter furiously*

*bounces away*

xx-Kitten.

Bend or Break

By Kittenshift17

CHAPTER NINE

Bjarke Rowle glanced sideways at the curly-haired witch he'd had a thing for since the end of their fourth year, trying not to notice the fact that her pretty face was scrunched into an expression of fury. He'd been tasked with accompanying her to the safe-house where they would be keeping her and Thorfinn while she conducted her research and attempted to sway Finn to their way of thinking.

It was beyond clear that she wasn't happy about the arrangement and given the gossip that had been circulating through headquarters, Bjarke didn't really blame her for being in a foul mood. From what he'd heard, Moody had all but ordered her to do this if she wanted to keep being a useful part of the Order, and it was no secret that they intended for her to do research into breaking the tracking spell in-built into Thorfinn's Dark Mark.

To be forced into a house, alone and secluded in the woods alongside someone like Thorfinn would be torture for anyone. Bjarke didn't at all blame Hermione for being put out, considering that she and his brother positively loathed each other. He didn't think he'd ever seen a hatred more intense than the one the two of them shared. It was thick in the air every time she went near Finn, and Bjarke wondered how they intended to keep her safe in Finn's presence, knowing his brother wouldn't balk at hurting her if it meant he'd be able to go free.

"This is it, then?" she asked when they strolled up the deer trail and into view of the tiny cottage nestled amongst the trees.

Bjarke looked in the direction of the cottage and winced a little, not blaming her for looking rather horrified. It was tiny. No more than a hunting cabin he'd bought off an old Scottish muggle, he hadn't done much with it in recent months because he'd been cooped up alongside the Order.

"It's bigger inside," he offered lamely, knowing that wasn't strictly true, but doubting that telling her it was tiny inside would help her current mood.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," he heard her mutter before she stomped up the path, intent on getting a better look.

"You don't have to do this, you know?" Bjarke told her. "I could do it in your stead. He's my brother, after all."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks before turning to look at him.

"They'll never let you," she said coldly. "They think he'll corrupt you, or that you'll let him go free."

"I won't," Bjarke frowned. "I want to keep him out of the Dark Lord's clutches until the war is over."

"Even so," she shrugged. "I've been tasked with researching some things, and apparently I'm too bitchy when I'm researching to be permitted back at Headquarters."

Bjarke winced sympathetically, even if he did know that when she was studying something, she tended to be a right stroppy cow.

"Anything I can do?" he asked as they walked along.

She shook her head, huffing out a frustrated breath as she climbed the stairs onto the small porch of the cabin.

"We'll need to ward this place far better," she pointed out.

"Do you want to do that first?" he asked. "Or should I let you see inside to make sure you aren't going to run for the hills and live out the war where you never have to see Moody or my brother again?"

She eyed him as he turned the doorknob after sliding the key into the old fashioned lock and hearing it clunk into place.

"Is it that bad?" she asked.

Bjarke sighed, turning the handle and pushing the door open. Despite it being good manners to let the lady go first, Bjarke entered before her, needing to make sure had hadn't left the cottage in disarray following his last visit.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered to himself when he spotted the remains of what must've been a Puffeskin invasion during the winter. There was dirt and fluff scattered over every surface.

"Haven't been back in a while, I take it?" Hermione asked, coming up beside him and scanning her eyes over the combined kitchen, living, and dining area.

"Not for months," he sighed.

"Cleaning charms should fix most of it," she pointed out, pulling her wand from her pocket and flicking it about the room, casting a few spells. Most of the mess vanished, and the remaining surfaces began to sparkle with cleanliness.

"Maybe we should open the windows?" he suggested, frowning at the lingering scent of wet Puffeskin fur that pervaded the room.

Hermione nodded and Bjarke sighed as he crossed the room and began opening the windows by the fireplace while Hermione opened the ones in the kitchen.

"Is this it?" she asked, eyeing the small space distastefully when he returned.

"There's a laundry through here," he showed her, leading her around a corner and showing he the small bathroom and laundry at the back of the house under the stairs.

"And the bedrooms?" she asked.

"Upstairs," Bjarke said, taking her hand and turning her further around the corner to reveal a hidden staircase behind the entrance to the loo.

She didn't pull her hand away from his as she took a deep breath before beginning to climb the stairs, and Bjarke's insides flipped nervously as he climbed the steps behind her, the staircase barely wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders.

"I don't imagine your brother will be able to come and go up these very easily," she said when they were almost at the top.

"Probably not," he grunted.

"How many bedrooms are there?"

"Only two," he admitted. "This one through here is the one I claimed for myself whenever I was here."

He led her by the hand into the room he'd taken in times when he'd come to stay here to be free of Finn and his friends at the Tower.

"It's not much," he offered when she scanned her eyes over the meagre contents of the room. Only a large queen bed shoved into the corner of the room and a bedside table with a lamp filled up the space, but it was so cramped that even that was almost too much.

"Is this the bigger of the two rooms?" she wanted to know, turning away to investigate the other one.

"They're identical," Bjarke admitted. "I only chose this one because morning sun streams in through the window of the other one. Mine gets the afternoon sun through the trees and helps heat the room before bed. You can take whichever one you want."

"I don't want either of them," she muttered. "I don't want to be here. I can't… I'll kill him if it's just the two of us stuck in this hellhole."

"He's really not that bad, you know?" Bjarke offered, crossing the room and opening the bedroom window to air the room out in preparation for being inhabited again.

"He's a complete arse," Hermione argued, putting her hands on her hips after she'd flicked her wand to tidy things in here, too.

"Well, yeah," Bjarke sighed. "But you're no ball of sunshine yourself, Granger."

She glowered at him and Bjarke smirked just a little bit. Merlin, she was pretty when she was angry. He could see why Finn riled her up so often. She positively radiated power when she was in a strop like that.

"Do you understand what Moody's commanded me to do?" she asked after a few minutes of tense silence where Bjarke tried desperately to think of doing anything other than throwing her down on the bed and fucking her until she smiled again.

"Not really. Research, right? Research and inducing some form of Stockholm syndrome in Finn to make him behave?" Bjarke confirmed.

"Among other things," she sighed. "They want me to do whatever is necessary to sway him to our side and make him loyal until the end of the war. Literally anything that will make him join our team."

"They want you to fuck him," Bjarke summarised, his brow furrowing.

Of fucking course, they did. He knew she'd been shagging Black all bloody year, but this was just… cruel. Bjarke clenched his fist and looked away. Every fucking time he started to think that just maybe this witch might finally give him the time of day, something came along to fuck it up. First the war, and now his brother.

"Were you kidding when you said you fancied me at school?" Granger asked, surprising him with her direct question.

Bjarke looked back at her, hating that she could probably see the answer written all over his face.

"No," he confessed quietly. "It wasn't a joke."

She frowned at him for a long moment, tracing her eyes over him intently and Bjarke almost squirmed under the scrutiny.

"Do you still fancy me?" she asked after an uncomfortable silence.

Bjarke raised his eyebrows.

"Are you only asking because you want to fuck with Finn when you need ammunition to hurt him when it's just the two of you locked up in this place?" Bjarke demanded.

"Do you care if I am?" she challenged raising her eyebrows.

Bjarke scowled.

"You've never looked sideways at me at Headquarters. You'd rather fuck Sirius even though he's twice our age. What? You're cranky with the Order and want to hurt Finn, so suddenly you're willing to climb aboard my cock and fuck me stupid?"

"Do you object?" she asked, refusing to outright answer the question. "Keep in mind that, at some point, I'm likely going to be fucking your big brother and maybe succumb to his meagre charms cramped in this fucking cottage with him for months on end. So, I'm asking if I'm something you just need to get out of your system, or if you really actually fancy me, Bjarke?"

Bjarke frowned at her, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Merlin, he didn't fucking know. He'd fancied her at school and he'd joined the Order because he knew he'd be safer with them and he knew she'd be more likely to pay him some attention if he was shoved under her nose. But did he still fancy her? Would he, after she was fucking his brother for the sake of the Order and winning the war? Could he go the rest of his life not knowing what it might feel like to sink his cock deep inside her and grind into her until she gasped his name?

"You want to fuck me?" he challenged, raising one eyebrow. "Now?"

She shrugged her shoulders and Bjarke suspected that somewhere along the line, Hermione Granger had learned to use sex as an outlet for her rage and frustration. Could he be the conduit to that outlet without getting himself all fucked up over her again? If he said no, he reckoned she'd just go back to headquarters and fuck Black again.

And who was he to turn down a free shag?

"Fine," Bjarke shrugged, stepping toward her.

He didn't hesitate or give her the chance to change her mind. Instead he threaded his hands into her curls like he'd daydreamed of doing back at Hogwarts and he stooped to steal a kiss from her lips. She leaned into him immediately, her lips parting and her tongue darting out to meet his for the first time. Bjarke tightened his grip on her hair when magic and electricity raced through him at the taste of her.

Fucking hell, he was so screwed.

She wasn't shy or careful, as he'd once imagined she would be. She knew what she wanted and what she needed, and she reached for it without hesitation. Her hands went to the hem on his shirt without hesitation, and he growled in the back of his throat when he had to break from kissing her to get the garment off over his head.

She tasted like milky tea and toothpaste, an odd combination that made him think of the many times he'd sat watching her drink her tea while she read, or the few times he'd invaded the bathroom behind her in the mornings to brush his teeth alongside her. Her hands were cold when she traced them over his now-bare chest, her fingers dancing over his abs, his ribs, and then up his chest toward his shoulders. He squirmed just a bit when she flicked both of his nipples while he claimed her mouth again, his tongue tangling with hers and heat coursing through him.

His cock stirred inside his jeans and Bjarke groaned when she wrapped her arms around his neck, climbing him like a tree. He slid one hand from her hair and down the length of her back to scoop under her arse when she climbed him, revelling in the way she curled her legs around him and locked her ankles.

Sweet fucking Salazar, he wanted her.

"Fuck!" he groaned when she broke from his lips, trailing her mouth along the length of his jaw and nipping his earlobe hard enough to sting. He turned the witch in his hold, stumbling blindly for the bed with her curled around him and she huffed out a soft breath when he reached it, toppling the two of them down on top of it.

"Are you sure about this?" he managed when he ground his cock against the junction of her thighs, his hands capturing hers and pinning them to the bed above her head.

"Give it to me, Bjarke," she demanded, surprising him with how direct she was, and with the way she used his first name. She didn't even blink as she held his gaze when he ground himself against her again, and Bjarke almost gulped, not so sure he could handle this witch, after all.

He nodded, leaning into her and kissing her again, his blood fizzing with desire even as he released her wrists and went for the hem of her shirt. When he pulled back far enough to peel her out of it, her hands were at the fastenings on his jeans and the rasp of his fly as she unzipped it seemed loud in his ears. His heart was pounding, and he was breathing hard, trying to think about anything but how badly he wanted her, knowing he wouldn't last if he wasn't careful.

Hermione was anything but careful as she peeled open his jeans, and to keep her from getting her hands on him too soon, lest she bring him undone, Bjarke kissed her neck, liking the way her nails cut into his shoulders when he found a sweet spot on the side of her neck by her pulse point that made her arch and mewl like a kitten.

She moaned softly, rolling her hips, grinding herself against him, and when he trailed hot kisses across her skin, and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume, Bjarke managed to draw a soft cry from her lips. She arched when he wrapped his mouth around her right nipple and suckled gently, determined to make this everything he'd ever dreamed, rather than just letting her have him hard and fast the way she seemed to want.

He pinched her left nipple, rolling it between his thumb and his forefinger, smirking around her skin as she cried out again, tangling her fingers in his thick blond hair.

"Gods," she whispered breathlessly, using her toes to try and push his jeans down, clearly intent on getting him inside of her.

Bjarke laughed, his mouth and his hands trading places on her breasts, enjoying the way he was taunting her. She was so warm and soft under him, even with all of her hard edges, thanks to the war. Merlin, he was in over his head with this one. He always had been. She mewled when he kissed his way lower, taking his time tracing his tongue around her naval and over the taut flat of her flat stomach.

She was too skinny, he noticed. He'd always known she was petite, but the oversized jumpers she favoured hid how much weight she'd lost thanks to the stress of war. Smoothing his hands over every inch of her, Bjarke snagged his fingers in her jeans, unbuttoning them and peeling them down her legs. He dragged her knickers from her body as well until she was laid out on the bed under him, naked and so bloody enticing it almost hurt. She wasn't all that special too look at, it was true. She'd never been the prettiest girl in school, and she wasn't what one might consider to be classically beautiful. But she had a defiance and a wicked little gleam in her eyes when he met her gaze as he trailed his tongue toward her pussy that made him think she was more beautiful than any other girl he'd shagged.

"Gods," she murmured when he pressed a soft kiss to her clit before peeling her folds apart with his thumbs.

She squirmed in surprise when he blew cold air against her flushed and glistening skin, and Bjarke smirked to himself at her responsiveness before he leaned in and drew his tongue across her pussy, dipping inside her to taste her sweet nectar for the first time.

"Oh, wow," he heard her mutter as she threaded her fingers into his hair and arched her hips, wanting more.

Bjarke took his time, doubting he'd ever get to shag this witch again after today. He ate her out slowly, dipping his tongue into her again and again, licking and licking and licking.

"Sweet fucking Merlin, Bjarke," she muttered when she began to thrash, her head tossing from side to side, her grip on him tight like she couldn't take it anymore.

Determined to bring her off with his tongue before he fucked her, Bjarke latched onto her clit, suckling hard while he drove two fingers into her tight sheath.

She uttered a soft shriek, arching off the bed and breathing hard, her thighs squeezing his head when she tried to snap them closed as though that might save her. He was laughing smugly as he crawled up her body when she went lax, and she didn't put up a fight when he kept her thighs either side of his head, her legs looped over his shoulders. Aligning himself at her centre, Bjarke leaned into her a stole a kiss from her plump lips before slowly beginning to inch his way inside of her.

She kissed him back hard, her tongue sure, her arms reaching for him and pulling him down on top of her more firmly. She curled up a little further, bettering the angle as Bjarke pushed inside of her.

"Fucking hell, you're tight," he muttered to the witch, clenching his eyes closed when he was fully sheathed within her.

She squeezed him, her internal walls clenching around him and Bjarke almost lost control.

"Fuck, don't do that," he muttered against her lips. "I'll come before I get you off again if you do that."

She laughed huskily, refraining from doing it again though she reached to card her fingers through his hair.

Withdrawing slowly, Bjarke pulled almost all the way out, lifting off her just enough to watch her face before he shoved back in hard, enjoying the way her eyes widened a little in surprise as his actions.

"Don't tease," she whispered, arching into every thrust as he took his time, withdrawing slow and thrusting hard.

"You want it harder?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

She nodded, her heels digging into his back and Bjarke nodded, shifting his angle slightly to better balance before he sped up his thrusts. She cried out softly when he drove in hard, arching under him and rocking herself on his cock like she couldn't get enough. He could see the flames dancing in her eyes, her anger with the Order and her frustration with her situation simmering just below the surface and Bjarke wondered if he'd be able to handle all that fire power should she unleash it upon him.

She moaned softly, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. Bjarke leaned into her neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive flesh, squeezing his own eyes closed and trying to keep from coming when her body began to clench and tighten around him.

"Harder, Rowle," she whispered breathlessly, rocking herself into each thrust, the symphony of damp flesh slapping together mingling with her breathless cries and driving him mad.

"Fuck," he cursed, throwing caution to the wind and just hoping she was close enough to orgasm again when he threw self-control out the window.

He slammed into her again and again, grinding in as deeply as he could and swallowing the whimpers of pleasure and pain she emitted, taking them for himself as he drove into her wet heat until his eyes crossed.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" he roared when he lost complete control, thrusting erratically, losing his rhythm but beyond caring as heat fizzed up from his toes and scalded down his back, coalescing in his bollocks before shooting out the end of his cock and splashing against Hermione Granger's womb.

She rocked herself under him, wiggling her hand between their bodies and tormenting her clit before she followed him over the edge, clamping down around him and milking every last drop of come from his body until he wasn't sure his dick would ever get hard again.

Collapsing on top of her, heedless of her small stature compared to his own, Bjarke tried to think, tried to figure out which way was up, tried to catch his breath and make sense of his scrambled thoughts.

"Bloody hell," he muttered against her neck when she slid her legs off his shoulders until she was stretched out beneath him.

She trailed her fingers idly over his shoulder and his back, nonsensical patterns tickling his skin and soothing him in a way he couldn't explain. Merlin, he was so fucking screwed with this witch.

He couldn't do that again.

Not ever.

She wasn't the witch for him, he realised. She was too much. Too intense. Too powerful. She felt like a drug that had fucked him up and was going to leave him jonesing for more. He could already imagine he'd end up scratching at his skin, desperate for another hit, and Bjarke got the feeling that if he ever took this witch again, it would be the end of him.

"Everything you imagined?" she asked softly, her tone conversational as though he hadn't just rocked her world and Bjarke knew he was in trouble.

"Better," he grunted, lifting off her enough to withdraw his softening cock from inside her before rolling to the side and stretching out on his back beside her.

She didn't roll toward him or cuddle into his side, and he got the feeling she wasn't a cuddler, and didn't crave more intimacy after sex.

"I'm glad," she said, and Bjarke wasn't sure what to make of the fact that though she looked it, she almost didn't sound it. She sounded kind of like she could take or leave what they'd done and it wouldn't matter to her, one way or the other, if they never shagged again, or if they shagged every hour of every day for the rest of their lives.

"Disappointed?" he asked, feeling a little bitter.

"With you?" she asked, turning her head and frowning at him. "Of course not. That was lovely."

"Lovely?" he asked, frowning in return.

"I orgasmed twice," she shrugged. "That's pretty much as good as it gets."

Bjarke frowned at the little witch, trying to figure her out.

"You don't care if we never fuck again, do you?" he asked, more curious than he was bitter.

"I wouldn't be opposed to shagging you again," she replied, and he wondered if she was being diplomatic or if she was just blunt.

"So, if I suggested you and I begin the same kind of arrangement you've got going with Black?" he asked.

"I'd be agreeable," she said. "Though how we'd manage that when I'm to be locked away in this tiny cabin with your brother and far away from the Order is beyond me. I don't imagine Moody will allow visitors once Thorfinn's transported here, else he won't become properly attached to me."

Bjarke didn't have to ask any more questions. He'd already decided that ever shagging her again would be dangerous for his mental health.

"Right," he muttered.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward, exactly, but it certainly was different from the types of silences that had stretched between them before that moment and Bjarke sighed before eventually sitting up and digging around on the floor to fish his wand out of his jeans and cast cleaning charms on both of them.

"Are you on contraceptives?" he asked of the witch where she was still stretched on the bed looking a little like she wouldn't mind taking a nap.

"Took one of the potions last night," she shrugged her shoulders. "But cast the charm too, if you want."

She sounded almost like she didn't care if he didn't do it and Bjarke didn't like the strange twist of excited tension that flipped in his stomach when he imagined what might happen if he didn't do it and she, by some miracle, got pregnant with his kid. Merlin, he didn't know if he wanted that or was terrified of that, and Bjarke ran a hand through his hair before casting the charm over her lower abdomen.

"Ready to go back?" he asked when he'd pulled his jeans back on and was dressed, once more.

She eyed him, cracking one eye open, still lying there completely naked and testing his ability to keep his hands to himself.

"If you like," she sighed, looking like she didn't really want to go back, but would if she had to.

"You'll be trapped here soon enough," Bjarke told her, unable to resit rolling toward her and scooping her into his embrace, hating that for the first time in his life after fucking a witch, he was the one feeling needy and like he needed to be cuddled and assured it wasn't a mistake and that she wasn't going to forget his name by tomorrow.

Merlin's bollocks, he really was a dick for all the times he'd made witches feel as he felt right in that moment and he wrapped the girl up into his arms and held her close for a few minutes, noting that she didn't protest or try to pull away. In fact, she burrowed into his hold like she enjoyed the warmth and the affection, but he still suspected she could take or leave his affection and even his company, and it wouldn't matter to her one way or another.

Bjarke realised as he laid there holding her that if she really was going to carry out Moody's orders about seducing Thorfinn to their side by whatever means necessary, his brother was going to learn the hard way what it was like to crave validation and attention from a witch who seemed, for all intents and purposes, to have locked away her own heart behind a wall of ice so thick that surely nothing would ever melt it.

Even when he let her go and watched the witch get dressed before she sauntered out of the room intent on warding the cabin better to keep Finn from escaping, Bjarke found himself pitying his brother for the first time in his life when it came to witches. The smug bastard was in for a very rude awakening if and when the time came that he bedded the brilliant little muggleborn.