A/N: Again, not making any promises on consistency of updates. I like this fic and want to continue, but I don't know how much time I have. Oh, and Courtney- it'll get worse before it gets better.

It had been four weeks since they had seen each other. Four weeks since a carefully planned meeting on a street corner, only a moment long. Hermione pressed a small package into Ginny's hands; the brushing of their fingers was the only contact they would have for those weeks. They had written, back and forth, through a pair of diaries Hermione had bewitched. That was the package. They could not see each other, but at least they knew they both lived.

Ginny had been working more deeply underground. She tracked down colleagues of her father, friends of her mother. Most were unwilling to fight. Some had even turned to the other side, finding something in the Death Eaters they had been unable to find in the side of good. These people were dangerous. They knew Ginny, knew she was working against Voldemort. They didn't know where she was or where she went when she apparated, but she could easily be followed, spotted in a crowd. She tried to disguise her appearance, but the color of her hair would always shine through eventually. She couldn't change her appearance completely like Tonks. So she kept out of places she would be recognized, stayed hidden.

Hermione had been spending more and more time at Lupin's, reading Dumbledore's diary. She read and reread the prophecy, trying desperately to find loopholes. She gasped when she read Neville Longbottom also fit the requirements of time of birth and parentage, but was disheartened to find he didn't seem to fulfill the prophecy. Anyway, he was nowhere to be found, probably dead or worse.

She found herself distracted more easily, the longer she spent time away from Ginny. She read her messages over and over again, and sent her own little notes as many times as she could. I need to see you again, she wrote. But how? My house is being watched, and we can't go back to the Leaky Cauldron. It isn't safe.

I don't care, came Ginny's reply one day. I need you, I can't stand it anymore. I ache because I can't touch you. We have to meet somewhere, just for a night.

It was dangerous, recklessly dangerous. Hermione was often followed, and Ginny was sought after outright. If they were seen together, if they were caught, it would be two Order members. They both new so much, were involved in so much. But passion blinded them. They needed each other, needed some contact if they were to go on this way.

It was all arranged. They would go separately to the Leaky Cauldron. They would sit apart, order drinks at different times. Ginny would request room 13, go up. Hermione would follow after 15 minutes. They would leave an hour apart. No one would know they had been together. No one would associate them, be able to catch them both. It was dangerous, but they believed it to be safe.

The night they chose to meet was cold, raining. Thunder was beginning to rumble in the distance, and the wind blew fiercely. The heat from their bodies would keep them warm.

Hermione sat at the bar, Ginny at a booth in the corner. Her hood was low, covering her head to her eyes. She sat with a drink, did not appear to see Hermione. Then she downed the glass, and left the table. Hermione finished her own drink slowly, then turned up the stairs to the rooms. The thunder was growing louder.

Ginny was already waiting, lying on the bed, her beautiful body exposed and alluring in the candlelight. Her hair, like fire, fanned out across the pillow and the tops of her exquisite breasts, large and white. Her thighs were parted, one hand resting softly on her stomach, the other beckoning. Hermione smiled. How lucky was she to have this beautiful girl love her. She untied her cloak, letting it drop to the floor. She slid off her shoes, fought with the clasps of her robes, finally throwing them in the corner in exasperation. "Hurry up," Ginny whispered, smiling. Hermione unclasped her bra, let her underwear fall. She kicked them away, maybe under the bed. She didn't care. She walked over to the bed, crawled over to Ginny. There was no need for foreplay, no need for any prelude to the raw passion they had been craving.

Her hands gently slid themselves up Ginny's thighs; her tongue traced a line up her stomach. She kissed each breast softly, her body entwined with Ginny's. Their mouths locked as their bodies began to rock up and down, following the rhythms of their matching heartbeats. Ginny's hands, tongue found all the spots that made Hermione gasp. Their moans were soft, but all other sound was drowned out by the thunder and by their love. They knew no other world but this room, this bed, and each other.

They continued like this for countless breaths and heartbeats, rocking and kissing, hands searching for new places that would bring about gasps and moans. They never wanted to separate, were linked to each other, synchronized to each other. Hermione on top, her pelvis thrusting down, Ginny underneath, her hands supporting, caressing. It was violent and tender, this night together between countless apart.

And yet suddenly, they were separate, Hermione ripped away, thrown against the wall. Her instinct was to reach out for her wand, but she was quickly Stunned, frozen in the corner. Two men stood in the doorway. One held his wand on Hermione, the other was conjuring ropes around Ginny, also frozen. Hermione tried to scream; she had no voice. One of the men picked up Ginny roughly, through her over his shoulder. The ropes were too tight; Hermione could see red marks were they already cut into her perfectly white skin. "Just think," one of the men said to the other, "one of the most prized members of the Order caught in the act with some whore."

They don't recognize me, Hermione thought. She kept her head bowed so her hair would cover her face. She still could not move, scream, get at her wand. The other man came toward her. He parted her legs roughly, his hands cold. "Can I have a poke?" he asked the other.

"We don't have time. The Dark Lord wants to question the Weasley girl tonight. But I'll bet he'll let us have her before he kills her." The man at the door turned and left. The other man pushed Hermione roughly, kicked her, but then turned and left. The Stunning spell soon wore off, but the men, the Death Eaters, were gone. Hermione walked about in a daze. She couldn't find her robes, only her underwear and cloak. She couldn't think to even clasp her bra, just pulled the cloak tightly around her and grabbed her wand. The rain was pounding harder than ever. She hoped she would be able to concentrate enough to Apparate, but saw no other way to get to the Order.

She wasn't too far off; she had landed in the forest which surrounded Remus's house, but she was at least fifteen minutes away. The rain was pounding, coming in through the trees, and she was freezing. In her haste, she had forgotten shoes, but she ignored the pain. An eternity later, she reached the cabin door, began pounding and shouting for Remus to wake up. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes. He opened the door. "Ginny . . . taken," she whispered, before collapsing into his arms.

She awoke, wrapped in a warm, thick blanket, sitting on Remus's couch. Tonks and Charlie Weasley sat across from her. Charlie looked terrified. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low. "What happened to Ginny?"

Hermione looked away. "They took her. The Death Eaters. They surprised us- we didn't here them coming. They Stunned me before I could get my wand, and they took her. I don't know where. I'm sorry . . ." She trailed off. She felt so stupid. They never should have met that night. It was too dangerous, they had known that. If Hermione hadn't agreed to it, Ginny would still be here.

Perhaps Charlie could sense what she was feeling, because he said, "Hey, it's isn't your fault. You have nothing to be sorry about. Now we just have to find her."

"Charlie is right," Remus said, coming in with a cup of tea. He handed it to Hermione, who accepted it graciously. "This is no one's fault, except for the Death Eaters who took her. We have to figure out where she was taken. Once we do that, we can take her back. This may just be what we need to get our act together. We've been doing everything we can to prevent Voldemort's power from growing, but we've only skimmed the surface of what we can do. We're at war, but we aren't fighting. If ever there was a right time, this is it."

Tonks looked up at him. "Those are fine words, Remus," she said, "but do we even know where to start?"

"We can start here," he said, opening a cabinet. Inside, Dumbledore's Pensieve glowing softly. "I've been looking through it, and I think I found a last message he left. I think I know where Voldemort will be."

More to come, I promise. Please review.