A/N: Hello! Welcome to Assassins of Tomorrow. This fic can be categorized as fluffy dark (is that a thing?). There will be Attempted Rape, Death of Canon Characters, Murder and Sexual Content. With that being said, there will be fluffy moments with friendships and relationships. If this isn't your thing, turn back now! Everything up to Battle of Hogwarts is canon, but after that it is canon divergent.

Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.

Huge thanks to Chaco for reading through the story, ArashiKitsune for her alpha-ing and to RueDawn for her amazing beta work on this piece!

Chapter 1: The Unexpected

Hermione stood in Knockturn Alley, eyeing the bar in front of her with contempt. Named The Black Dahlia, it fit the horror that came with Voldemort's reign. It had been three years since the dark side won the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort had ended the battle with a quick killing curse aimed at Harry's head, but not before his loyal followers destroyed the castle and murdered countless others.

She had been on the run ever since, her beaded bag her only companion. Hermione tried to stay clear of the Wizarding World, knowing she had a target on her head if she ever decided to return. Instead, she hovered on the border —staying close enough for scraps of news, but far enough away that not even the most successful private investigator could cash in on the ten-thousand galleon price tag on her head.

With her life in danger, she would have never ventured into Wizarding London without good reason. She had received a note earlier in the day with a time and location, nothing more. Typically she would be wary of a note void of a signature, but she was desperate. Being on the run for a little over three years took its toll on one physically, mentally and emotionally. She was tired of not knowing what the next day might bring or where her next meal might come from. She had survived this long because she was resourceful, but it was exhausting.

There was also a little pang in her heart when she thought of her friends. She had a glimpse of hope that maybe it was Neville who sent the note. She thought perhaps he had started an underground Order and had finally reached out to recruit her for the cause. Hermione shook her head, smothering the hopeful thoughts swimming around and forced herself to be rational. It wouldn't do her any good to dream of what could be, especially since having her head in the clouds could get her killed.

Not willing to risk being recognized, she had glamoured her appearance giving herself long, straight, blonde hair, an elongated nose, and green eyes. The look was completely opposite of her own, not giving away any clues to her true identity.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked confidently into the bar. To her dismay, the door was charmed to ding alerting the other patrons and workers to her arrival. Swallowing her nerves, she pulled the cloak further over her head allowing the hood to fall, covering her eyes.

Hermione walked up to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, hoping that the other cloaked figures around her wouldn't recognize her voice. Glamours might cover her appearance, but they could do nothing for her voice.

She took a seat in the furthest corner of the bar to await what was coming. One hand on her glass, one on her wand. She had a gut feeling that whoever had sent the note wanted to help her, but one could never be too careful.

The door clanged again, noting the arrival of another patron. Looking up from her glass, Hermione surveyed the figure who was hidden beneath a black cloak, no different from anyone else. Her heart was pounding as the same figure stopped at the bar and then moved towards where she was sitting. Whoever it was, took a seat right next to her, almost touching.

They both sat for a moment, unmoving.

"Granger," the voice stated, in a quiet whisper.

"Am I that obvious?" she hurriedly whispered back. She wanted to get this over as soon as possible. Her Gryffindor courage was waning.

"How about we take this somewhere more private? It would be better not to be…," he paused, taking a sip of his drink. "Overheard."

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" she said, her voice raising.

"Quiet," he commanded. "This is dangerous for the both of us. One slip up and we will both be begging for death."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to rack her brain for where she had heard the man's voice before. For him to reach out to her, he must have something to lose, but far more to gain. He most likely was playing for the other side and following him to a more private setting could be detrimental.

"Where do you suggest we reconvene this meeting?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. Her nerves were getting to her, which could quickly get her killed in a situation such as this.

"Follow me," the stranger said, leaving the booth and heading towards an unused part of the bar. "Grab my arm."

Hermione felt the pull of apparition and looking up she gasped. She was looking up at the largest castle she had ever seen, besides Hogwarts of course. The sign read, 'Knockyn Castle' She frowned. In primary school, she remembered this castle being located in London, but nothing more. Before she could comment, the stranger pulled roughly on her arm pushing her inside the home.

Yanking her arm from the stranger, she backed away pulling her wand from its holder beneath her cloak.

Before she could question him, the stranger pulled out his wand discarding it on a nearby table. He lifted his arms in the air, showing that he was unarmed and not wanting to cause her harm. She was no fool — most powerful witches and wizards had at least a basic grasp of wandless magic. It was still possible he could easily disarm her and do whatever he pleased with her.

Before she could open her mouth, he lowered his hood baring his face. She knew immediately that he was the younger Lestrange — Rabastan.

"Rabastan Lestrange," she whispered, keeping her wand steady. For once her internal dialogue was silent as he nodded. After the initial shock, she decided that no matter what she would give this a chance. She had escaped dangerous situations before, and if this turned out to be one of them, it was just another day in the life of an undesirable on the run.

Deciding there was nothing to lose, but so much more to gain she lowered her wand but kept a tight grip on it in case she was about to be double-crossed. Rabastan gestured to a door on her left, beckoning her forward. Entering the room, she saw they were in a study. Portraits of Lestrange family members covered the walls.

"Rabastan," a portrait said. "I see that you have succeeded in bringing the girl."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, curious to what this portrait knew of her meeting with Rabastan. "What is he talking about?" she asked curiously. "Why have you brought me here?"

He ignored her questions, but instead walked over a glass cabinet behind the desk and poured two generous portions of firewhiskey.

Hermione accepted the glass he offered and thanked him. Still wary of her surroundings and the Death Eater in front of her, she sniffed the drink testing for signs of poison. It didn't matter if it was laced with Veritaserum. She would just try to use occlumency to resist spilling her secrets. Finding no signs of tampering, she immediately took a gulp of the drink. She felt it burn going down her throat and instantly relaxed. Although relaxed, she needed to be careful. It wouldn't do her any good to get blackout drunk in the company of an apparent Death Eater.

She took a seat in front of the desk and raised her wand to lift the glamours. Since Rabastan already knew who she was, there was little point in keeping them in place. With a quick 'finite,' a brush of cold air whisked over her, changing her body back to its original state.

Hermione, not one to waste any time immediately asked Rabastan to clue her in on his plans and what she was doing there.

"Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about? I must say, I am genuinely curious about your plans…and what exactly your talking family portraits have to do with it," she said, gently swirling around the firewhiskey in the glass.

"Well, it all has to do with taking down the Dark Lord, of course," he said nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" she sputtered. "I am not entirely sure that I heard you correctly. Did you just say that your plans revolve around taking down Volde—, I mean You-Know-Who?" She quickly corrected herself before she spewed her most hated enemy's name. After three years on the run and speaking only when needed, she had almost forgotten about the taboo that had been placed on the name to capture those fighting for the light.

Rabastan glared at her after her almost slip up. If she had continued to say his Lord's name, the Death Eater's would have come calling capturing or killing them both. She would need to be more careful, especially if she agreed to whatever plan he had concocted and they would be working together.

"Yes, I have plans to take down the Dark Lord," he said, pausing. "I won't tell you anything further unless you agree to work with me. I can't tell you my secrets and then have you running your mouth to those who would give up that information to save their skin."

"You wouldn't have to worry about that; I am completely on my own. I haven't had contact with anyone from the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army," Hermione blurted out, not knowing why she felt the need to inform him. She bit her lip, her mind running a million miles a minute. She had been cut off from the world for a long time, only knowing what the Daily Prophet wrote. The Daily Prophet had always been corrupt, but she assumed that under the Dark Lord's control, Rita was writing the truth.

She bit her lip, undecided if she wanted to agree to help immediately. She decided that she could always take the cowards way out and run if anything went wrong. She looked at the man across from her, he had a look of concern plastered across his face. He seemed almost desperate. Again, what did she have to lose?

"I'll help you."

"Good, now let's— "

"No. I have some stipulations if I am going to work with you," Hermione interrupted him. He looked like he wanted to hex her, but nodded his head encouraging her to continue.

"Since this is your plan, I will just assume that you will be calling most, if not all of the shots. I, at least, want to have the chance to include my input before plans take place. Second, I have been living in boxes for the past three years, and I would rather not do that when you have a perfectly good house here that seems empty. Lastly, when the time comes, I want to be able to reach out to trustworthy members of The Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army. I have yet to hear your plan, but I know that they will be a helpful resource when trying to take him down," she said, without taking a breath.

He nodded his head once more. "I had already planned to clue you in, with regard to all the plans—that is why I need you. You are the smartest witch of your age, and this is accomplished easier with someone like you," he said, sighing. "Also, you are more than welcome to take a room here at Lestrange Manor. There will be occasional visits from Death Eaters, so you will need to hide if they come calling without an invitation."

She nodded in understanding and opened her mouth to ask about her third request. Rabastan put his hand up to stop her, "As for your third request, I will not grant it at this time. If we continue to work together and it comes to the point where we need them, we will make that decision then."

"Thank you," she whispered, finishing off the rest of her drink. "Now, tell me of these plans that you have." She set her glass on the desk in front of her, with her hands clasped in her lap waiting patiently for him

"Well, Granger," he drawled, pouring more firewhiskey into her glass. "It all starts when I was freshly graduated from Hogwarts."

She grabbed her glass, and settled back into the chair, trying to get comfortable. She did not doubt in her mind that this was going to be a long story and one that was vital to taking down You-Know-Who.

"My other brother, Rodolphus graduated a few years ahead of me and immediately joined the Dark Lord's forces. My parents were so proud. You see, they felt the Dark Lord had the right idea—ridding the world of those with impure blood. I, on the other hand, felt differently because of all the time I spent with my uncle Florin Lestrange," he said to her.

Looking at her confused face, he laughed. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but there is a reason for this backstory. Give me a chance to explain everything."

She waved her hand, encouraging him to continue.

"As I said, I spent a lot of time with my uncle Florin, much to my parents' dismay. He never had the same views on blood purity as them, but since he was family—they never banned me from going to see him."

"As I got older my brother tried to change my viewpoint but was never successful. I thought him and his so-called friends were tools, for lack of a better word. My last year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord was at his most powerful—he was gaining followers with many of them being my fellow Slytherin classmates. Once graduation day came, my brother once more approached me and informed me that he had requested an audience with the Dark Lord for me. Claimed he did it so that we could both live in a better world, a world where we didn't have to hide our magic," he said, pausing briefly. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, desperately craving the story.

A dark look crossed Rabastan's face as he continued the story—it was alarming. Almost like he was reliving a disturbing moment in his life.

"I refused. But Rodolphus wouldn't take no for an answer," he said, his voice laced with anger. "Before I could defend myself, he whipped his wand out and turned it on me. At that moment, a voice in my head was telling me what to do, and I couldn't tell it no…" He trailed off.

"The Imperius Curse," Hermione whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. She had been through a world of hurt, but she had never been forced into something like that. Her heart was broken for someone who had once been good but had been forced against his will to commit various heinous crimes.

He nodded, slamming his tumbler on the desk. In anger, he shoved his chair back sending papers flying to the floor. He walked to the window and looked out the window presumably in deep thought. Hermione stayed put, processing the information she had been given so far.

Making a decision, she walked over to Rabastan and wrapped her arms around his waist. He visibly stiffened but immediately relaxed into her embrace. She assumed that, like her, it had been a long time since he had been offered physical or emotional comfort. Hermione was surprised at how normal this felt. She had her nose nuzzled into the back of a Death Eater's back, and he was allowing her to comfort him. There was more to the story, she knew, but it would have to wait until daybreak—neither of them was in a right state to continue tonight. No matter the consequences, she knew she was going to help this man. She was going to fight for everything that they had lost. For Harry. For Ron. For the Wizarding World.

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This story is almost complete and will be updated weekly!