She carefully navigated the thick throng of rich, snooty people who mingled around her. Outwardly she smiled a bright grin to anyone that happened to glance at her face, exuding the mask of a vapid pure-blood, excited to be rubbing elbows with the billionaires of the wizarding world.

Her head swiveled in harmony with the soft, classical music that wafted from the fingers of the talented pianist seated in front of the room, her fingers tapping in rhythm against the cold stem of her wineglass. The party was in full swing and was attended by every pure-blood that was worth his or her name. She didn't belong here, most definitely not, but she wasn't here to socialize, she was here to complete her mission.

Ah, there he is, she noted with satisfaction, spotting her mark, Augustus Romanov, a balding man with thick piercing eyebrows and a bulbous nose. He was certainly no Romeo, but fortunately for him, he was endowed with a keen mind for business that had helped him establish a multi-million pound corporation. Unfortunately for him, the methods that he had used to fund his company had been less than savory and he had made more than one enemy in his quest for money, which was exactly the reason why she was here today.

As she leisurely made her way to him, she scrolled through the list of facts that she knew about him in her mind. He was recently divorced - his fourth wife had been caught in bed with a younger man, one that had more money - and on the prowl for another wife that he could parade around as a particularly delectable piece of arm candy.

She paused for a moment in the middle of the crowd and brought her wineglass up to her scarlet lips, draining the dregs of champagne in one swallow. Instantaneously, a pathetic looking house elf materialized at her side, wearing a stained pillowcase and holding up a tray filled to the brim with identical looking wineglasses of champagne. She looked down at the house elf silently until the creature minutely gestured to a wineglass at the corner of the tray. She nodded in thanks and picked up the wineglass, the wine sloshing over the rim as she began moving again, this time in a brisk manner.

She stopped behind Romanov and lightly tapped him on the shoulder, a coy smile in place. He turned around in surprise, his eyes widening in appreciation as he took in her appearance. Thick, brunette curls tumbled down her back; bright brown eyes slyly smiled at him; a luscious mouth painted in exquisite crimson curled up at the corners in a teasing manner. She was swathed in cerise robes that showcased unblemished bronze skin. In short, she looked like sin, tantalizingly holding a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Good evening," he said politely, regaining his composure.

"Good evening Mr. Romanov," she replied, her lips quirking as if she recognized the effect that she'd had on him.

"How do you know my name?" He asked her in puzzlement, absolutely sure that he had never seen her before. He would surely remember if he had seen someone like her before.

"Of course I know your name. Who doesn't know the name of one of the most famous men in England?" She responded in amusement, a light tint of sarcasm coating her words as she stroked his ego.

"Why thank you," he smiled an arrogant smile, obviously missing the sarcasm, "May I ask what your name is?"

"You may ask, but that doesn't mean I'll answer," she retorted, her eyes laughing at him as he blushed.

"I-oh-I didn't" he stammered uncharacteristically, taken aback by her bold answer.

Her twinkling laugh interrupted him and he looked down at her in astonishment as she laughed a carefree laugh, akin to the bubbles rising to the top of a champagne glass. Her mirth subsided and she smirked flirtatiously at him.

"I would like to spend some more time talking to you, perhaps in a more private setting?" She invited him, putting a suggestive arm on his elbow.

"Y-yes," he quickly answered her, his heart beating rapidly like that of a man twenty years younger than him, excited by the prospect of spending more time with this alluring stranger.

"Drink this champagne and come with me," she ordered him, handing him the glass of champagne that she held in her hand.

He swiftly downed the glass, the cold liquid sliding down his throat like a soothing balm and infusing liquid courage into his veins. He offered her a his elbow and she graciously accepted the invitation, sliding her warm arm through his. She confidently led him to a secluded balcony and nimbly slid her arm out of his grasp. She twirled around the balcony in childish glee, the cool night air ruffling her curls and sending them tumbling this way and that in abandonment. She stopped twirling a few seconds later, putting a hand to the railing as dizziness overtook her. She looked towards him, the smile on her lips dying as she asked him a silent question.

Romanov had never been more enchanted in his life. He fancied himself in love with this slip of a girl that embodied the spirit of youth.

"You're beautiful," he gasped out, the realization leaving him breathless.

"I know," she answered him, the mask slipping away to reveal the cold expression underneath.

He looked at her quizzically, startled by the sudden transformation, a tightness forming around his heart. He took a step towards her and stopped as brightly coloured spots danced around his vision, obscuring his view of her. He stumbled as dizziness overtook him and gripped the railing of the balcony to steady himself.

"Wha-" he tried to speak, but could only produce a strangled sound.

"Poison," she answered him calmly, gazing out at the kaleidoscope of city lights spread out underneath them.

"GAR-" he emitted an inarticulate sound from his rapidly closing throat and made as if to lunge towards her.

She easily sidestepped his clumsy advances and callously gazed down upon him as he fell to the marble floor and started twitching in agony as the poison rapidly ate away at his muscles. She looked away from him and breathed in deeply, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Her job was almost over and then she would make her escape.

She turned back to the now still corpse on the floor and knelt beside it. She moved her hand to his eyes, her hand pausing as she took in his accusing expression before she smoothed a gentle hand over his eyelids, closing them. She reached into her pocket and fished out two coins - one pence each - from the depths of her robes and placed them over his eyes, a silent tribute. She got off the floor and brusquely dusted off her robes, moving hand to the inside of her robes, insuring that her wand was where she had left it.

She stepped over the body of Romanov and made as if to go back into the dining room, before she abruptly stopped and looked back at the dead body. "Hermione. My name is Hermione," she softly said.

She turned on her heel and rapidly made her way through the swelling ranks of the crowd, her heels clicking in a daunting march as she escaped the scene of the crime.

She politely smiled at the house elf in the entryway and allowed him to hand her coat to her. "Thank you," she softly murmured to the stoic creature as she slipped past him and into the night.

"Welcome, Miss," the house elf whispered in her wake.

She was gone and the aroma of jasmines was the only sign that she had ever been at the party.

A/N: This idea kind of just popped into my head today and I couldn't resist writing it down. Please tell me what you think in a review! :)