This was written for Dramione-Duets on LiveJournal. All of the beta love to LondonsLegend!

Hermione Granger climbed the steps two at a time, breathing in the fresh saltwater air and thinking to herself that, if she wasn't about to meet a potentially dangerous threat inside the stone castle looming above her, she might think the scenery pretty. The moonlight hung in the sky just so that it reflected back in the ocean at her, illuminating the stone steps leading up to the giant, brass door covered in thick strands of ivy.

Removing the disillusion charm from herself, she raised a shaky hand up to the knocker and gave it three firm knocks, taking a step back and waiting. "Breathe," she reminded herself. This was a mission, after all, and it wouldn't do well for her to pass out from forgetting how her lungs worked.

Inhale. Exhale.

The door pried open.

Hermione waited, her wand at the ready, but no one stepped out. Instead, the door moved the rest of the way to reveal a foyer covered in dried leaves and bits of sand; obviously, the place hadn't been used in quite some time.

"Hello?" she called out quietly.

Something hard poked her in the sway of her back - a wand, she realized. Damn. How could she have let her guard down this way? "Easy does it," said the calm, quiet voice of a man. "Wand, please."

"Why would I give my weapon over to the enemy?" she blatantly asked, uncaring if it was brash to say so.

"I'm an enemy, now, am I? Is that the way you speak to all of your informants?"

"If they live on the wrong side of the war," she replied cooley. "And I'll have you know, if I wanted to attack you, I would have already."

There was a slight pause, and then the wand poked her in the back again. "Fine. Keep your wand. Inside. Now."

Toeing the line between fear and satisfaction for winning the small battle, Hermione did as was told, stepping across the castle's threshold and into the foyer. She raised her wand with exaggerated movements to prove she meant no harm before she cast a quick, "Lumos maxima," to the room. The windows were boarded up, and the air was stale, but the walls hummed with magical properties of the protection sort. Stiffly, Hermione took in one last breath and turned around to face the man who asked her here this evening.

Well, not her in particular, but Hermione Granger was head of the Order now, and she wouldn't dare send someone else on such a dangerous mission. It wasn't her way.

Standing before her was a hooded figure dressed in black, silk robes of expensive design. His build was strong, but agile, like a figure made for Seeking. Though she couldn't see his face, she sensed a chill in his gaze. One lone, pale hand still clutched his wand tightly in his grasp - Hermione tried to assess an identity by wand alone, but she wasn't familiar with the owner of this particular one. It was long and spindly, just like its Master. The fingers gripped tight around the hilt were white at the knuckles from his grip, but he had lovely nails to complement the lengthy digits. Everything about him said pureblood, which would make sense, considering they were betraying the Dark Lord by being here this evening in the presence of Hermione Granger, the most wanted muggleborn in modern history.

"I take it you're trying to get a read on who I am," he said beneath the hood. "I would advise against it."

"Would you?" she asked, tilting her head.

"For your safety, and mine, it wouldn't be wise."

"And yet I'm to establish a layer of trust with you?"

"Trust?" He snorted the word, turning his head to the side slightly as if to stifle a laugh. "Is that what you think will happen here?"

"You tell me." Hermione blinked. "Three weeks ago, a letter arrived at Order Headquarters asking for this very meeting. Considering you'd have needed to know our extremely airtight location in order to send such a letter, and considering we, being myself and what's left of the Order, are still very much alive...well, that establishes a small layer of trust to begin with, don't you think?"

"I could give a shite less about your trust," he snapped back at her.

"Interesting," Hermione said dryly, licking her lips to feign casualness. "Which is precisely why the Order has moved since you sent that letter. So, if this is a trap-"

"-You'd be dead already if it were."

"...Fair enough."

The two stood in their spots, both cautious. Neither one trusted, and perhaps that made Hermione a little less anxious. Anyone with a plan to hurt her would be far more relaxed, wouldn't they?

"Shall we get to business?" she asked.

"There were rules," he murmured. "In my letter. Did you read them?"

Oh, yes. Those. Hermione had hoped he'd forgotten or maybe it was all some test. But a Granger wasn't one to fail tests, so she straightened her shoulders and said, "I did."

This was what peaked her attention to begin with - the very reason she refused to send anyone in her place. Hermione Granger would barter no one else's soul in exchange for information but her own. If this was the price of taking back her home and avenging Harry, so be it. Internally, she cringed at the thought of her best friend, but she shoved that thought deep down inside and refused to let it rise to the surface. Not now.

"And you understand the parameters of what is asked of you?"

Softly, Hermione nodded. Yes, she very much did.

"Then follow me."

He took the lead, strolling across the foyer and down a narrow hallway lined with paintings, all of various creatures: centaurs, fairies, even skrewts. Each had a colorful pallet, almost telling a story within each stroke. Hermione was so enthralled with the artwork she barely noticed she'd been led into a parlor until she saw the flicker of embers burning in the fireplace. This room looked far more inhabitable, obviously cleaned and freshened for her presence here. A small, round table sat beneath a crystal chandelier. He gestured to it, and they both took a seat across from each other, neither one relinquishing their wand.

"Let me establish some ground rules of my own," she stated, folding her hands over her wand on the table.

"Do you honestly believe you're in a position to-"

"First of all, I want you to understand that I, at no time, will allow you to talk down to me. It's obvious from what side you've taken in the War that you've believed yourself above my blood status at some point, and I will not tolerate discrimination of any sort. Is that clear?"

The man gave an exasperated, albeit amused, laugh. "I take it you have other rules?"

"You're not to kiss me." She said this with importance in her voice. "I don't want you to mistake what this is with anything else you think it might be."

He chuckled. "That won't be a problem."

"And...and there will be...protection."

The chuckle faded quickly away. "Of course."

Hermione nodded. "Fine, then." She reached for the top clasp of her robes.

"...What are you doing?"

That caused her to pause. "Shouldn't we begin?"

"Not like that." The man sounded confident, strumming his fingers along the table. "That won't do at all." He scooted his chair back.

Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Did he really mean for her to…? Well, of course he did. Why else was she here? A quid pro quo if any she ever saw. Gently, she arose from her seat. Her shoes felt like they were lined with lead as she took a step toward him. Her clothes felt entirely too stiff and itchy, and yet she never wanted to take them off again. Finally, she made it to the other side of the table. The man in the hood gently pushed himself up to stand, slowly reaching out a hand. His pointer finger tilted her chin up so that she could just make out a pair of thin, pink lips beneath the hood. Beneath them was a strong, but slender jaw. One that looked tense.

A thumb grazed along her lower lip, protruding it slightly.

"You're prettier than what I expected."

Had he been expecting her? Or did he mean in generality? Hermione refused to ask, choosing instead to remain silent as that thumb teased over her lower lip again.

"It would be so easy, you know."

"What would?" she found herself asking.

"To betray you."

Her body tensed under the weight of his words, and his lips curled back in a satisfied smirk.

"Lucky for me, you won't do that, will you?" she whispered, eyes glancing up to the hood, wishing she could see more of his face. Just an inkling of who he was, and she could turn this all around. Still, for how intimidating this situation was, she didn't feel as unsettled as she'd expected to be. Maybe it was the calming draught she took before coming. Maybe it was because he hadn't shoved his hands inside of her robes yet. Either way, even though he was the one in control, Hermione didn't get the impression. He was just as nervous about this as she was - wasn't that interesting?

He ignored her question and withdrew his hand. "Up the stairs just outside of this room, first door on the left. Wait for me there."

"And if I refuse?" she challenged.

With a snigger, he shrugged. "Well, then. You're free to leave. But you will receive nothing in return."

This was it; if Hermione wanted to, she could walk out the front doors of this castle and never return. But there was too much at stake, and the information he promised he could provide would be detrimental to winning the war. "How do I know you will adhere to your promises?"

"I would offer you an unbreakable bond, but that would require a third party. And I'm fairly certain neither one of us would like this to go beyond you and I." Reaching into his robes pocket, he produced a small phial. "And so, I offer this as tribute. You recognize it, don't you?"

"Veritaserum," Hermione said at once. Though it was clear and odorless, it was the only logical answer.

"I will take a drop, and so will you. But you must adhere to my rules."

No names. No question of identity. She nodded once, reaching for the phial. With catlike reflexes, he pulled his arm back, forcing her to fall face first into his chest. The faceless man smelled oaky with hints of citrus, drowning Hermione's senses in an automatic response of appreciation. My, but he smelled divine.

Hermione pulled herself off of him at once, half-embarrassed, half-ashamed of herself for the stirring in her stomach. She wasn't one to judge others off of their physicalities, and yet she couldn't stop her fascination with those pretty lips beneath the hood, smirking hauntingly down at her. Fear prickled her chest, and she let it cascade over her in the form of goosebumps over her flesh. There would be no point in fighting it - the nervous tension between them was palpable.

"Open your mouth," he said, and she did. One drop of veritaserum dripped on her tongue. The effects were nearly instantaneous. She could feel a wall crumble inside of her, but from where she couldn't place, so there would be no building it back up. She watched as he took a drop himself and sat the phial on the table next to them. "How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Frightened."

"Good. That's good. I would worry if you weren't." His hand moved upwards, dusting a feather-light touch with the back of his fingers against her cheek.

"And you promise to provide me with information? Usable information?"

"Yes." He reached inside his pockets and produced an envelope, waving it slightly before slipping it back inside his robes.

At a snail's pace, both set their wands on the table.

"One more thing."

Ah, yes. The last bit of their agreement…

"You promise not to hurt me?"

There was a pause. "Not unless you want me to."

"N-No. I wouldn't."

The man in the hood snapped his fingers, and a ribbon appeared out of thin air. He snatched it up, taking his time to stroll around behind her and loop it over her eyes. Hermione heard her own sharp intake of breath, feeling the nervousness blossom in her sternum as her heart slammed wildly away. "This is spelled to prevent early removal. Only I control that."

"Just get it over with," she snapped, feeling him tighten and tie it in the back.

The next moment, there was a shuffle of fabric that wasn't her own.

A strong hand reached out and found hers, tugging her to spin her around. Suddenly, there was a pair of lips against her neck, brushing ever so softly against her pulsepoint all the way until they met just below her ear. Even at this close proximity, she couldn't see a damn thing from beneath the fabric over her eyes. Smooth fingertips glided up her arms, to the top clasp of her robes. They fell to her feet in a crumpled pile, leaving her in a drastically more vulnerable state of undress. All that she wore now was a set of shorts and tank top for easy maneuvering underneath her robes, and of course her boots.

"You're shaking," he noted in a whisper against her throat. He sounded almost amused.

Hermione, not to be taken lightly, tried to will her body to stop its trembling and managed to nearly put an end to all of it, aside from her knees that knocked against each other furiously. She bit down on her lower lip, squeezed her eyes shut beneath the blindfold, and folded her hands in front of her, squeezing them together. "Whatever you have planned for me, get it over with."

"That eager to get started?"

"I'm that eager to finish." The words blurted out of her mouth, courtesy of the vertateserm. The man snorted indignantly as he trailed his hands freely down her neck, shoulders, over her collarbone and just under the curve of her breasts. There he paused, as if judging them by the weight and fullness, giving them each a subtle squeeze. Hermione's insides were boiling in aggression, but she fought the urge to knee the stranger before her in the groin, urging herself to stay put. This was for the good of the Order, after all. She'd come here of her on volition; the only one she could blame for this was herself.

"Put your hand here," he said, unwinding her twined fingers together and moving her hand to the firm chest now fully exposed to her, To her surprise, there was no fabric separating her from his skin. It burned hot under her touch as he took in breath after gentle breath. Despite knowing it was a terrible idea, she allowed her fingertips to graze down his pectorals, feeling over the hardened muscle and ascertaining the soft ridges of scarring running diagonally across his sternum. Curious, she followed the line down to the smooth dip in his stomach that met the shallow grooves of abdominal muscles. Everything about him was firm and soft all at once.

"When was the last time you've been with a man?" he asked.

Hermione tried to fight it, but the truth serum won out. "Years, possibly. War brings no time for…these sort of things." Her cheeks flushed with warmth, and she was sure her entire body was glowing in a powder pink shade. Damn this man. It's none of his business. To retaliate, she asked, "And you?"

"I've never been with a man."

This obnoxiously cunning git. "When was the last time you were intimate with someone?" she corrected herself.

"Six months, give or take. - And before you start running that pretty mouth of yours, it was consensual. Not all of us are rapists and murderers."

"But criminals, nonetheless," she snapped, even as he began bunching her shirt up around her stomach, revealing the taut skin around her navel.

Silence. And then - "That's really the way you see us, isn't it?"

"Obviously. I cannot tell lies, remember?" she quipped back as her shirt was tugged over her head and thrown elsewhere. She heard it land somewhere to her right, but she wouldn't be able to guess where. A sort of shameful excitement built within her. Even though she was worried out of her mind, her body reacted to the stimuli as he slipped his hands down to her hips, working his thumb pads into the grooves of her pelvis.

Against her will, a small gasp pressed between her teeth.

"It seems I've found a weakness of yours. The great Hermione Granger," he chewed on her name with his teeth like it was made of toffee as he tugged her flesh against him, chest to chest. "If your shabby Order could see you now, bending to the will of the enemy."

Hermione's eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, but she otherwise remained silent. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response.

But the stranger wasn't about to let it go so easily. He slipped his hands down over her hips and further behind her, grabbing each of her round globes within her shorts and giving them a firm squeeze. There he kneeded them, expertly flexing his fingers and alternating between tender massaging and digging his fingers possessively into her muscular hind end. The length of his fingers brushed ever so closely against her inner thighs as he squeezed lower, cupping each cheek now and spreading them within the confines of their clothing.

Hermione could sense a warmth settling in, lighting her skin with a fire she wished she could douse out. But try as she might, it was there to stay.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," she heard herself whisper breathlessly, mouth parted as her eyes closed behind the blindfold. It had been so long, so long since she'd had any physical touch. This war took so much from her - from everyone. There wasn't time for the carnal eros inside of her to take control. Yet here she was, letting a stranger feel her up and enjoying it, no less. Had the War fucked her up that bad in the head? Could losing so many people be the cause for this need inside of her to be touched?

A soft chuckle was his reply, followed by a torturous, velvety tongue darting out and tracing down the length of her neck before moving back up to swipe along the shape of her ear. "Good. Very good."

"Why do you care?" she choked out as those expert hands of his moved up the sway of her back, leaving light scratches behind. "This is about your physical needs, isn't it? So what does it matter if it feels good to me?"

"Because this isn't about me." His hands stopped at the clasp of her bra, testing her resolve to stay obediently still. When she did, he twisted his fingers and, in one quick motion, unhooked the clasp. His hands moved up to her shoulders to slide the straps down at a gruelingly slow pace. This wasn't about him? Did that mean he was hoping to pleasure her somehow? What sort of physical exchange was this? Her bra dropped down to the floor, but her nipples had hardened before that, somewhere back when he had licked down her neck. Her chest heaved slightly with her shallow breathing as she waited for something, anything to happen. Time dragged on until finally a thumb grazed lazily over her right nipple. "So soft," he noted. "So lickable." Whether that was the serum or his urges egging him on, Hermione wasn't sure, but she felt her lower lip being drawn in by her teeth, and she bit down, taken by the way his voice drizzled like melted mutter on a dinner roll. He must have been staring at her while she did it, because a grunt escaped his throat, and the next moment, she felt herself being scooped up by her arse. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his torso as large hands cupped her round behind and a stubbled cheek nuzzled against her bosom. "Would you like it if I licked you, Commander Granger?"

Hermione's fingers dug into his shoulders as she struggled to remain in control of her hormones. How had this turned into something she enjoyed? This was supposed to be a physical exchange for the Order - not something she got off to. Yet he'd managed to turn this around to be pleasurable within minutes. "Mnh, y-yes," she admitted, thoroughly ashamed. Her head tilted back just before the flat of his tongue laved over her nipple with precision. "Oh." Oh, that felt...good. Her head fell back even more, her chestnut curls tickling her spine. Again, that tongue swiped up, and a warm breath encompassed the area right before his lips did, taking in that swelling bud and flicking his tongue forward. "Ohhh…" Hermione moaned.

The stranger nudged forward, taking in just a bit more of her breast, suckling and teasing. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, determined in its mission to taste and explore. By the gods Hermione didn't believe in, she loved every moment of it. She didn't realize she'd reached for her other breast until she felt herself tease her nipple between her fingertips, moving them in time with his tongue against her other, her hips rutting against him automatically. He dug his fingers into her ass to steady her; she realized he must have strong arms to hold her up this way. Strong, muscular...she took a chance, releasing her free hand from his shoulder and putting her entire faith in him that he wouldn't drop her just to get a feel for his biceps, which were hardened and flexing in their successful, controlled efforts to hold her up.

With a wet pop, he pulled off of her breast with his lips and left delicate kisses between her breasts, muttering, "Such a naughty girl. Look at you, touching yourself already." He dipped his head and whispered against the top of her stomach, "Ever since you walked in that door, I've been wondering what it would be like to have my tongue inside of you." She felt him breathe against her, as if inhaling her scent. "I wonder what the great Hermione Granger's quim tastes like? Tell me, are you kempt in those pretty, dripping knickers of yours?"

Oh, Hermione liked that too. She knew she should be ashamed, and a part of her was, but the rest of her relished in the danger and utter tawdriness of it all. With a small roll of her hips, she licked her lips and answered, "Y-Yes."

"Fuck." He squeezed her ass hard, and then the next moment Hermione felt them moving. She was dropped carelessly on top of something firm - the table, she realized, as she heard their wands roll and topple off the edge. She squealed a little in surprise when she felt his fingers loop underneath the elastic of her shorts and tug so hard her hips were rocked forward. The shorts slid off on their own accord, leaving her in a pair of deep navy knickers that hugged her in all of the right ways. Not that she could see them.

There was the sound of a chair shifting against the floor, and a thunk as he took his place in it. It was the only logical explanation Hermione could muster as two warm hands pushed her thighs apart.

"So wet already," he said, a hand shifting from her thigh right to the top of her undies, tugging the hem down ever so slightly to reveal... "and smooth." His thumb traveled beneath the material, and Hermione, already losing herself in the possibilities, heard a small voice in the back of her head telling her how wrong this was to be enjoying it, but she was too far gone to listen. Everything about this moment, cutting loose, being at the mercy of a stranger who didn't seem to want to hurt her but to give her pleasure instead...her head was in a fog of lust, and the great Hermione Granger, War Hero and Commander of the Order of the Phoenix, succumbed to her most basic of needs, if only for the time being.

"Touch me," she begged, bucking her hips slightly so that his thumb brushed further down her mons venus, closer to the place she needed to be touched. It didn't take him long to oblige, running his thumb slowly down her skin until it brushed against her pulsing, sensitive clit. Slow circles of gentle pressure was her reward. Yes, Hermione thought.

"Like that, Granger?"

"Mmh, just like that…"

"You like it when I touch you here?"

Fuck. "Yes." She threw her head back, her own hands searching, grasping at her breasts as he continued to rub expertly against her button.

"What a little whore," the man whispered, and any other time, Hermione would have slapped a man across the mouth for saying such things, but the way in which he said it… "My little whore, aren't you, Commander Granger?" Something...there was something so wonderfully sinful in the way he said it. Against everything she knew to be true, she could still let herself feel, for just a moment, the pleasures of the flesh. Two years of fighting, clawing, bleeding, and losing...she convinced herself she deserved this. Deserved a moment of sexual reprieve from the horrors of War. And it was good for the War...the War...she was doing this to win the War...but even she couldn't fully convince herself of that. Not now, not after a moan broke through the tightness of her throat and fell apart in the air where he could hear it.

The man laughed, low and pleased, before he dragged her panties down her thighs and over the bend in her legs, all the way to her ankles before he split her legs again, pressing them back against the table, forcing her on display for him.

Hermione's body shuddered, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. The tension - the pure sexual tension - was killing her softly. She could feel the man's aura; he was just as sexually charged as she was. Two calming breaths, in and out, in and out, before Hermione gasped, her fingernails digging into the wood and scraping along it, surely chipping at least one as the stranger slipped his tongue between her wet folds.

"Ah!"

With a flattened tongue, he tasted her, making a breathy sound that somehow still remained masculine while he laved his tongue against her. "Mmm," he hummed, his voice vibrating his tongue as it came to rest against her clit. His lips kissed the swollen bud, licking and suckling lightly, completely enthralled in the task at hand. Hermione tried to fight her want to tangle her fingers in his hair, to feel if it was soft or course, short or long, but she held back, mouth parting to strangle for breath. Over and over his tongue moved against her, sometimes slowly, sometimes with light flickers, and between ministrations he would whisper naughty things.

"Look at your legs shake...such a bad girl...you're practically dripping onto the table, Granger. You're making it so slick...if only your Order could see you now. I wonder what they would say?"

Hermione couldn't take it any longer. A cry of delight burst from her as she arched her back and hooked a leg over his shoulder, further pulling him in. Her mystery stranger began teasing her with a firm tongue now, his hands spreading her thighs wide. He ghosted a breath up and down her slit before tilting his head forward and plunging his tongue inside of her.

Stars. Hermione saw stars burst behind her eyelids as her hips began to rock in time with his tongue moving in and out of her. He moaned against her, hot breath having nowhere to go but against her pulsing core, further adding to her pleasure as his tongue went in and out, in and out. He trailed it up to her clit, kissing it sensually before moving back to fuck her with that talented tongue of his, tasting every bit of her he could. To say the moment was intimate would be an understatement - Hermione had never felt so vulnerable and yet so praised. The way he groaned and hummed as he tongued her made her feel as if she was the world's most expensive, rich meal, and he was a starving beggar. He ate her to his heart's content, refusing to let up or release her thighs, even as she rocked against him. She built the momentum between them, letting her clit rub against his upper lip just before he clamped down on it with his mouth, flicking his tongue quickly.

"O-Oh!" Hermione cried out, jerking automatically, but his grip on her was tight, forcing her to stay in place. "Oh, God...Ah, just - just like that…"

Quicker and quicker his tongue moved. Her clit pulsed in response, and there was a stirring somewhere within Hermione's lower abdomen. Her head felt dizzy, like she was floating away from her body, further into a waterless current of darkness. She was swimming amongst the stars, so far away from her body but in such sensual bliss, and she could feel the moment coming soon - that unequivocal tipping point…

"MMmmfuck," her words slurred together. "Gonna...gonnagonnagonna...can't...mmgod…"

"That's right, Granger," he whispered, "I'm your god now."

And then he brought her over the edge so powerfully that her legs quaked and twitched, toes curling into the soft material of the shirt on his back, hips bucking upwards and hands finally digging into those mysterious tresses. They were soft, silky even, and just long enough for her to get a good grip. Her chest heaved up and down as she gasped for breath - she no longer swam in a current away from her body. She was back inside, able to feel every bit of her orgasm to the finest detail.

"Marvelous," he whispered, kissing each of her thighs as they spasmed. There was a gust of wind, and then a pop, and the blindfold loosened its hold. Hermione reached up with a shaky hand and removed it immediately to find herself alone, still spread across the table in a puddle of her own cum and shame. On top of the chair at her feet was a lone envelope marked with an X.

Why was she here? What on earth possessed her to be wrapped up in this man's arms, blindfolded again, this time in front of the roaring fire as he fingered her in his lap, watching Hermione come undone with synchronized rolls of her hips.

"Whose god am I, Commander Granger?" he growled against her cheek as he pumped his slickened fingers into her again and again.

"M-Mine," she moaned, fingers gripping into his biceps as she chased that feeling of euphoria on a crash course with an unabismal high.

"Say it louder."

"Mine!" she shouted, bucking her hips, practically riding his fingers like they were a thick cock inside of her. "My god!"

"She learns so quickly...but you've always been a quick study, haven't you?"

Hermione rested her head against his thigh in the afterglow, still able to taste the ropes of pearly come she'd already swallowed minutes ago. Though she couldn't see his face, she had no doubt her mystery stranger looked particularly wrecked this evening. Long fingers wove through her hair in gentle strokes as if to thank her. Hermione found herself leaning into that touch, even though she knew she shouldn't. Barely a word had been spoken this evening, and yet so much had been said through his moans and sighs.

"You didn't have to do that," he said quietly, his voice echoing off the walls.

Kissing along his fingertips, she replied, "You've spent the last three months making me feel good. I thought it was time to return the favor."

"This isn't about my physical needs," he growled, though it was half-hearted. It was obvious he still lacked tact from the aftershocks of his recent orgasm.

"So you're telling me you trade information to the Order for my pleasures only?"

He nearly laughed. Nearly. "You still don't get it, do you?" His hand trailed down her cheek, to her jaw, and traced along it fondly. "Your pleasure is my pleasure."

A long silence, and then… "Why?"

He left shortly after without a word more spoken and an envelope waiting for her, like always.

"The information you gave me was incomplete," she stated from the doorway, this time to a bedroom up the West staircase. A silhouette sat at the edge of the bed, back turned to her, not a detail able to me made in the pitch black room. "Fragments were missing."

"Were they?" he sounded quite pleased.

"But you knew that already."

"I did."

Anger, a week's worth built up inside of Hermione, threatened to erupt. "Is this some sort of game to you? People's lives are at stake!"

"Game?" he muttered. "...Perhaps…"

His statement reverberated rage all the way down to her bones. "Well, I for one won't tolerate this kind of ludicracy. This isn't a game to me. If you're so eager to see Voldemort-" she watched his silhouette jerk, "-fall from power, then it's your duty to give the Order all vital information you know. You can't just hold out-"

"-Can't I?" he interrupted. "Apparently, you think your side is the only one who has suffered casualties." There was a bitterness in which he spoke, like he might cast an icy glaze over the room with just his tone. "I have nothing, thanks to him. There's nothing to live for. My family…"

There it was - a connection, something to tug at her heartstrings and keep her from hexing him on the spot. "...I've lost family, too." Hermione felt her footsteps carry her within the darkness, illuminated only by the tip of her wand. She sat down on the bed next to the man in his hood, dowsing her light. "But withholding information...it isn't right."

"Nothing about this world is right."

He was correct. It wasn't. They were two broken strangers in a lightless room, and Hermione, even knowing it wasn't right to feel this way, wanted nothing more than to take out all of her frustrations on the man beside her. It had almost been a relief to come back, to know that she might be touched again. The very idea made her skin crawl in shame.

"Will you help us, then?" she asked, quieter than ever. "Fix it?"

The man let a thick pause drag between them. "What will you give me in return?"

Without thinking, she moved her hand to his thigh and gave it a light squeeze. It was enough. The stranger - no, was he that anymore? Could someone be so intimate with someone regularly and be just so? - guided her hand to his already stiffened erection, separated only by a pair of slacks. Hermione hated herself for how thrilled she was, but the next moment, she found herself crawling into his lap, draping her legs over his hips. How strange it was to be so excited over something so crude, and yet…

"You want it." He sounded surprised. "Is that it, Commander Granger?"

"This is a business transaction," she stated, narrowing her eyes even though she couldn't see a damned thing. "Nothing more."

"Is that what you told yourself when you were between my legs last we met?"

"Fine then. If it isn't...tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"You know what," she muttered, brushing her lips against his.

There was a dangerous tone to his voice. He retracted from her and replied quietly, "You're breaking your own rule."

"I know."

"...That wasn't part of the deal."

"Then I want to change the stipulations."

"That isn't how this works."

Frustration sliced against her psyche like a papercut to the skin -annoying, but completely possible to deal with. "Why not?"

With a gentle touch, he reached up and stroked a single finger down her neck, along the length of her collarbone, and back up the other side of her throat just beneath her chin, where he tilted it upwards. "Because if you knew the truth, you'd stop coming here." He said it not with malice or idle sadness - it was a truth he believed without a shadow of a doubt.

"You don't know that."

"Actually, love," he chuckled, void of all humor. "I very much do." A thumb brushed over her lower lip. "Why not simply enjoy the little bit of time allotted to us?" Before she was given time to answer, he pushed the pad of his thumb past the barrier of her lips and rested it against her tongue suggestively. Despite knowing she was more than a simmering bundle of nerves, she still felt the tug in her lower stomach and the way her legs flexed automatically against his hips. "That's it, Hermione." It was the first time he said her name, but the way in which he spoke it...like they were familiars…

'Stop this', she scolded herself, withdrawing her mouth away from his finger. "I know there's good in you. Why would you help the Order, time and time again, if there wasn't? If you tell me who you are, we could protect you-"

"Enough." He didn't say it roughly, but rather with a serious edge. His fingers danced down her arms and found her hands, where he brought them to his shoulders, kissing each wrist delicately as if she were sand that might fall apart should he press just right. "My bed is made of soil and twigs. I made it years ago, and I intend to lie in it."

'Soil and twigs,' she thought, 'Down here with the rest of us.'

The bed groaned as Hermione laid him back, pressing her lips to his for the first time. Yes, she broke her own rule, and yes, she knew there were risks involved, but she knew wasn't the only one who felt this connection between them. Though they'd never seen each other's faces, it was his heart, racing a mile a minute in his chest, that had Hermione ripping buttons and stripping clothing. It was his soul that had her moaning in the darkness, his voice that had her dripping and panting and screaming. In the darkness, there was no war, only the two of them. In the darkness, Hermione didn't have to think, only feel. In the darkness, their demons danced together like children when they heard music no one else could.

To the both of them, this was reality. Not the War. Not the death. Here. Now.

"God, yes…"

When they were spent, and Hermione lay collapsed in his arms, she knew her life would never be the same.

'I have to know,' she thought as she listened to his gentle breathing. When he made to move, she curled her arm around him and whispered, "Stay."

"I can't-"

"...If you care, you'll stay."

"...Damn."

And so he did. It was the least he could do, she thought, all things considered. She waited until he dozed off before slipping out of bed and over to the curtains. 'Just one peek.' Her fingers moved against the thick material, heart slamming inside her sternum. This was it. The moment of truth-

"Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

Large hands overlapped her own as his frame pressed against her from behind. Hermione sighed. "I'd hoped."

"Why can't you just leave well enough alone?"

"You know why. And you know I won't stop until I know."

"This wasn't part of the agreement."

"I know."

"If you break that, this ends."

"If I don't break this, I'll be the one who breaks." She shut her eyes tight to keep the tears from coming. "I can't live like this. Not with the way I feel about you. Can't you just tell me your name?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Do we know each other?"

"We do, don't we?"

"Leave it alone, Granger."

There it was again. The way he chewed on her name...it was so familiar and nostalgic…

"If you know me, then you know I won't."

He laughed bitterly. "Still as stubborn as ever." A sigh. "Fine." He released her hands. "Just remember, curiosity killed the kneazle."

Hermione took in a deep breath; this was it. Her fingers wrapped in the curtains again. 'You can do this.'

She jerked them open. "Hello, Draco." And then she turned around, meeting his wide, silver eyes and blatantly shocked expression. There, standing in the moonlight, a Malfoy had never looked so caught off guard before.

"You knew?" he blurted out.

A small smirk crept up Hermione's lips, triumphant. "Perhaps."

"How long?" Draco growled.

"Some time now."

"And you still came? Willingly?" His mouth looked like it might be permanently unhinged, but Hermione stepped up to him and stroked a hand down the side of his cheek, encouraging it to shut tight. His jaw set, and Draco scowled. "Why did you pretend all this time not to know who I was?"

"Because you willed it so. Because I knew that if you suspected I knew, you'd turn tail and run."

"Are you calling me a coward?" he hissed.

"No, Draco." She swallowed a nervous lump in her throat and stepped as close as she could into his personal space, kissing along his wrist exactly the way he had earlier in the evening. "I'm calling you a realist. The same as me."

The air hung heavy between them as a thick tension fogged the room, clouding Hermione's judgement. The next moment, she grabbed the sides of his cheeks and pulled his face forward into a cripplingly timid kiss. The exposed Draco in front of her tensed against her mouth. Gone was the sure-of-himself attitude that went along with anonymity. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, wiping at the corners of his lips as if he'd been poisoned.

"This could never work between us."

"And yet here we are."

He blinked. "Yes. Here we are."

"And I'm not going anywhere," she said, drawing his arm up to her lips to kiss along his Dark Mark. "You aren't the only one living in a broken world."

His eyes closed as her lips grazed his skin. "I'm your enemy."

"Tomorrow. Tonight, it's soil and twigs. And I'd like to sleep beside you."

Hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave a review or favorite (or both!)
~A.