Contrast

A/N~I know it seemed as though it would never get here, but I have finally posted a new chapter. Thank you to all of you who have gievn me your unwavering support. To show my gratitude, this chapter is a long one, so I hope you all enjoy it. And, as an added bonus, I will give you all some hints as to what is going to happen in the next couple up-coming chapters.

Thank you to my darling beta Nicole, you are brilliant and amazing!

MistressMalfoy~Great minds thinks alike, but sometimes, I think your mind is greater. As always, without you I would be lost and very sad. You are extraordinary, my dear naughty witch!

* * * * *


Morning sunlight streamed upon Hermione’s face, waking her unexpectedly, as a cold breeze danced against her bare back, sending chills up her spine. Cracking her eyes just barely, she noticed that both were coming from the wrong direction. As her sleep clouded brain cleared every so slightly, and slowly, she remembered that she had fallen asleep in Malfoy’s room, on Malfoy’s bed, right next to him, and of course, he had stolen all of the covers from her. Opening her eyes a bit more, in the dawn’s early light, she saw Malfoy lying peacefully on his back, the blankets covering his torso and below, one arm at his side and the other resting on his stomach. Shivering again, Hermione looked down at herself; her naked body barely veiled by the warm sheets, and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position while remaining on her side, for if she tried to achieve a pose similar to Malfoy, she would most certainly fall off the bed. Bloody prat; leave it up to him to be selfish and inconsiderate even in sleep.

Now fully awake, thanks to the fully emerging sun shining in her eyes, and the biting drafts causing her exposed skin to break out in tiny bumps, Hermione lifted her head, propped up her elbow, and rested on her hand. She looked down at a completely relaxed Malfoy, noting that she hadn’t seen him appear as such in a long time. Here she was, her arse nearly hanging off the side of the bed, cold, and in the one uncramped position, she could arrange her body in. She was tempted to yank the covers from Malfoy’s body, kick him until he was practically falling off the bed, and see how he liked it. She settled for trying to wake him up instead.

“Malfoy?” she whispered, her voice still hoarse from sleep. She thought she was going to have to poke and prod him when he gave no indication that he had heard her and woken up, and her hand was in mid-air, her finger pointed towards his chest, when his left eyelid opened, revealing a light gray orb still heavy with sleep, which stared at her disapprovingly.

“What?”

“You’re awake?”

“You sure are a perceptive one, Granger. I have been ever since you started shaking the whole fucking bed.” He replied roughly. “There are other, much more pleasurable ways of waking me up.”

Hermione harrumphed and shifted again, not because she needed to, but only to emphasize the point she was about to make.

“Believe me, I would be in a more agreeable mood had it not been for the fact that I am close to spilling over onto the floor and freezing my arse off.”

Glaring at her with both eyes wide open now, Malfoy smirked and made no move to accommodate her, though she knew damn well he knew what she was referring to.

“Not my fault. You are the one who fell asleep in my bed. I can’t help that I am not used to sharing it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw what little covering she had on her off before sitting up and turning her back on Malfoy.

“Fine. I will just get dressed and go back to my room.”

Just as she moved to stand up, a strong pale arm encircled her waist and pulled her back to lie down. Malfoy raised the blankets and melded his body against hers, enveloping her in warmth. She didn’t bother to fight him. It felt too good to have his arm wrapped around her, his naked skin pressed to hers, heating her in more ways than one.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” he asked, nipping at her shoulder.

“Why do you?” she responded, pressing her cold body to his.

“Because it is a part of my charm. Now, go back to sleep.”

Hermione closed her eyes, willing sleep to come. The exhaustion from yesterday’s events had not totally worn off yet, and it had been an outright miracle that she was able to shut out her rapid thoughts long enough to fall asleep in the first place. She had spent most of the night working out alone, as both Ron and Harry recovering from their own adventures. When she finally lay in bed, physically knackered, her thoughts were still racing. She knew there was no hope in getting rest until she spoke with Malfoy and said what had been plaguing her ever since she learned of what he did in Hogsmeade. Of course, she knew it wouldn’t end there with him, just a conversation and that’s it, and was, as a matter of fact, relying on it. Every time they were together, she didn’t have think about what Harry and Ron had been through or what they had done to her. She allowed herself only to live in the moment, to think of him. That’s what she did. Eventually, after shagging Malfoy, her physical fatigue had spread to her mind, and she was able to sleep.

Now, despite her awful sleeping arrangement, she had gotten a full night’s rest, and her body may still have been tired, but her mind was awake. It didn’t help that the light streaming through the open window pierced her closed eyes, making it almost impossible to fall into the darkness she needed to nod off. Although Malfoy had allowed her more room on the bed, she still couldn’t get completely comfortable and was once again shifting lightly, or so she thought.

“I swear to Merlin, Granger, if you move one more time I am going to push your arse off of this poor excuse for a bed and make you sleep on the floor.” Came Malfoy’s irritated and raspy voice from behind her.

Sighing, Hermione turned slightly to see him out of the corner of her eye, his expression and stormy eyes matching the tone of his speech.

“You can threaten me all you want, Malfoy, but it won’t make me fall asleep. I am too awake.”

“Fucking hell. This is the last time I ever share this bloody bed with you unless we are shagging.” He grumbled.

Rolling over so that Hermione ungracefully landed on her back, Malfoy supported himself on his arm and looked down at her. His deceitfully angelic face was still marred by the small cut and already fading bruise her fist had left as a souvenir as well as the much darker and more severe blemish that peaked out behind the fringe of his platinum hair. Lifting her small hand, Hermione gently pushed back the silky strands and traced the outline of the wound with her index finger.

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, not quite sure why she was concerned in the first place, it obviously paled in comparison to Ron’s injury.

“I’ve had worse.” He replied, smirking at her. “It takes more than a knock on the head to take me out.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling back at him, “but I am sure a pissed off Hippogriff would do the job just perfectly.”

Instantly the smirk faded from his face only to be replaced by a sneer. Hermione felt her smile grow wider. Well, if she couldn’t sleep, at least she could entertain herself by taking the mickey out of Malfoy instead.

“Get out of my bed, you Mudblood bitch.” He growled, pointing at nothing in particular.

“Okay.” She retorted simply, fighting back the urge to laugh at his shocked eyes and partially opened mouth when he digested her lack of argument. Hermione tossed the blankets off and arose only about halfway before she felt Malfoy’s powerful hand grasp her forearm and yank her back down to lie on the bed once more.

“I have changed my mind.”

Keeping her face stony, Hermione let Malfoy move his body on top of hers, unconsciously parting her knees so he could rest between them.

“Have you now?” she questioned tonelessly.

“Yes,” he lowered his head so that his lips were millimeters from her mouth. “Now that we are both wide awake, we might as well take advantage of it.”

Malfoy’s warm lips descended upon hers and she wasted no time allowing him to enter her mouth, his talented tongue maneuvering fiercely and expertly. She felt his left hand move up and down the length of her side while his right kept him from crushing her with his sinewy body, steadily deepening the kiss. Hermione kissed him back with an equal amount of vigor, and was passionately luxuriating in the sensation of his large hand now roughly palming her breast as his kiss and touch became more urgent and fervent. Off in the distance she heard the faint reverberation of the old pipes in the wall groaning and the unmistakable sound of the shower in the bathroom next to Malfoy’s room being started. Realization dawned on Hermione and the lust-induced haze that fogged her brain suddenly cleared. Harry was awake. He, unlike his best mate Ron, had always been an early riser.

Tearing her mouth away, Hermione struggled to see around Malfoy’s lean shoulder to catch a glimpse at the small clock on his bedside table. When her attempt failed, she pushed at Malfoy’s chest, who had yet to notice her stilled movements and was busy kissing and biting her neck instead.

“Malfoy, get off.” She grunted, pushing him a bit harder and becoming increasingly annoyed when he didn’t budge.

“Why?” he asked, moving his head lower and capturing her hardened nipple in his hot mouth. When he bit it mildly, she had to draw her bottom lip between her teeth and fight back a moan of desire that threatened to reclaim her regained sensibility.

“Because the shower is running.”

“So?” he murmured around her nipple before deserting it, only to exquisitely move his lips across her chest plate and lavish his attention on the other.

“So,” she answered, arching her back inadvertently as her hand seemed to bring itself to the back of his head and grab a fist full of his hair on its own accord, “that means Harry is awake.”

“And…?” his mouth slid down the slope of her breast and created a tantalizing and tempting trail over her rips and down her stomach. She gripped the tresses ensnared in her fingers and forced his head up before he journeyed lower and she lost all cognitive thought. He gazed at her, his eyes hooded with hunger and a wickedly devilish grin gracing his wet lips.

“And I have to make breakfast before he starts pounding on my bedroom door, begging for food, only to realize that I am not in there.”

Without warning, Malfoy quickly jerked his head, resulting in Hermione releasing her hold on him, and repositioned himself so that he was once again on his side, head resting on hand, and staring down at Hermione, his expression one of pure displeasure.

Raising herself to her elbows, Hermione gazed back at him curiously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You are their stepping stone.” He stated matter-of-factly. She rolled her eyes.

“I am not.”

Easing out of the bed and walking around to the other side, Hermione gathered her clothes from the floor and set them down on the mattress at Malfoy’s feet as he turned on his back and brought his hands behind his head.

“Yes you are, Granger. They take advantage of you, and you let them. They say ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high?’.”

Grabbing her knickers, Hermione stepped into them while glaring at Malfoy. Where did he get off telling her that the two people she loved the most, probably even more than her parents, were using her for their own ends, with her approval no less?

“You don’t know what you are talking about.” She said as she yanked on her tank top, trying to dispel the growing anger she was experiencing.

“The hell I don’t. I have witnessed it for 7 years.”

“They care about me.” She declared, pulling up her shorts and placing her hands on her hips.

“I’m not saying they don’t. I know that they care for you, love you, or what ever poofta phrase you want to use, but that isn’t the issue here.”

“I didn’t know there was even an ‘issue’.”

“Oh, it is an issue when you have an extremely handsome and masterfully skilled wizard about to shag you into oblivion and you suddenly tell him to get off of you because you heard a damn shower start up and announce that Harry Potter is awake.”

“I have to start breakfast.” She defended.

Malfoy sat up, raised his eyebrows, and smirked at her. Even so early in the morning he was as aggravating as ever. That damn mocking smirk, the one she hated with a fiery passion and had her hand itching to smack him, tormented her even more because it made him so bloody appealing and damn near irresistible.

“Why?”

“Because I am the one who makes breakfast.”

“No, because they expect you to, and you would rather suffer than let the tossers down.” He challenged.

“No,” she denounced, “because they risk their lives almost everyday to come one step closer to winning this fucking war, and the least I could do is offer them a hot and healthy meal since I can’t be out there on the front lines with them.”

His smirk turned into a triumphant grin, and Hermione didn’t know why until his next comment.

“And whose fault is that? Not yours because you want to be out there with them. Who makes you stay here, who says you can’t be on the ‘front lines’?”

“They said I was a distraction, and we all agreed it would be better and safer if I remained here while they went searching for the Horcruxes.”

“Wrong again, Granger. They told you to stay here, and you complied, just as they knew you would. They tell you what to do, and you don’t say one word in disagreement. You just shut your mouth and go about your day.”

Hermione shook her head in doubt, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and the tiny voice in the back of her mind that was telling her Malfoy might be right.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, throwing the blankets off and retrieving his boxers from the floor. He put them on and stood in front of her, his dark silver eyes boring into hers. “When Potter told you to break it off with me, I have a sneaking suspicion that you didn’t think twice about doing what he told you to.”

“But I did, Malfoy.” It was Hermione’s turn to smile proudly. “I was up most of the night trying to decide what to do, because in all honesty, I wasn’t ready to break it off either.”

“Yes, but in the end you did, you did exactly what Potter wanted you to, regardless of what you wanted.”

“I wanted him to stay my friend, and if I continued having it off with you, that wasn’t going to happen! He was, and still is, more important than anything and anyone in my life!” she exclaimed.

Malfoy’s eyes momentarily flashed with an emotion she had only seen once before, that night near the lake, but before she could be certain, it was gone, and they returned to exuding the coldness she had become accustomed to when he was hiding his thoughts from her.

“Well, let’s see.” He said conversationally, stroking his chin and looking up at the ceiling in pseudo deep thought. “We have already touched on them forcing you to stay here, out of their way one moment and at their beck and call the very next.”

“Look here, Malfoy…” She began, the anger she fought to control steadily and slowly breaking free with each uttered word of his.

“Don’t interrupt, Granger, it’s terribly rude.”

Groaning in exasperation, Hermione folded her arms across her chest and glared at Malfoy, who was watching her with expectance and an expression of exaggerated offense.

“Please continue, Malfoy. I am so looking forward to your most intelligent and perceptive observations, as well as the conclusions of said observations, for I am just a lowly Mudblood, incapable of understanding such complex and ambiguous actions transpiring between and concerning my friends and me.”

“Sarcasm is just as disrespectful as interrupting.” Malfoy told her, not bothering to hide the smirk playing on his lips once again or the humor in the depths of his overstated serious voice.

Hermione muttered in return, “You should know.”

“As I was saying,” he continued, “you let them get away with whatever they want, no matter how much it fucks you up in the process. Yesterday is the perfect example.”

“I didn’t let them get away with anything yesterday.”

“No? They were missing for hours, Granger, and they didn’t send you one word of their whereabouts or well-being. I was the one who had to tell you that they were in a battle and injured, possibly even dead. You wouldn’t have even known had I not been there. And when they finally did show up, you smack them upside the head and give them a stern talking to, but not before hugging them.”

“I was just happy to see them alive, Malfoy. My relief took a back seat to my anger.”

“By you not being angry at them, you just gave them clearance to do something like this again with similar consequences. You are too bloody easy on them, and they know it, so what do they do? I’m not saying they do it on purpose, but they take advantage of it, and your commitment to them.”

Obviously confidant that he had made his point, Malfoy smirked at Hermione as she remained silent. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying to her, because it made such sense, because she was so deeply devoted to Harry and Ron that she suddenly realized that she had been letting them off the hook quicker and with less of a fight than she used to. However, their relationship was much too meaningful and precious to be mad at them for extended periods of time. Sure, they messed up sometimes, but they had so many other things on their mind and didn’t quite comprehend what they were doing when they kept stuff from her. They weren’t taking advantage of her, or using her as a stepping stone. They relied and depended on her to be there for them, no matter what, because that is how their friendship worked. Plus, they were sort of thick when it came to such things.

Running her hands through her hair, Hermione frowned back at Malfoy and shook her head.

“I don’t expect you to understand our friendship, Malfoy. It is complicated. We have been through a lot together, more than you know, and I don’t have to stand here and defend our relationship to someone who beat up his only real mate.”

Hermione turned on her heel and walked to the door, intending to leave the room and have the last word, but was stopped by the rare and slightly disturbing deep chuckling coming from Malfoy.

“He deserved it. And in contrast, at least I didn’t let him walk all over me.” She heard him say.

“Not this again.” She complained as she shifted to face him again. “I thought you gave up on those bloody contrasts.”

Malfoy took a step towards her and smiled.

“Never! I have just been more subtle with them.”

“Well I don’t need your cryptic bullshite.”

“Then I will make it perfectly clear for you.” He advanced upon her until he stood directly in front of her, his silver eyes burning hers. “Blaise and I, we may have fought, competed, and hated each other from time to time, but we also held each other in an extremely high regard. He was my only ‘real mate’, and I his, because we didn’t deem anyone else worthy of the position. We got on better than any of those degenerates ever did in that school, including your little Golden Trio, because we didn’t take any shite from each other, we stood up to one another, we didn’t back down, it was unconventional, no nonsense, and that is why we have been best mates since childhood. Of course you had to go and fuck him again and totally screw up it up, but that is neither here nor there.”

“That is the most asinine explanation of any kind of relationship I have ever heard, and that includes the complete lack of description for the one you and I have.” Hermione said, astounded and in all honesty, a little confused.

“You want to know what I think is asinine? You take Weasley and Potter’s shite with a smile, and when they fuck up, all you do is lecture them; you do it until you are blue in the fucking face and it changes nothing. They have repeatedly kept secrets from you, held you in the dark, and made you do what you didn’t want to because they told you it would be for the best. Then they expect you to constantly be there for them, help them when they need it, and understand and forgive them each and every time they make a fuckwitted mistake.”

The small room shrouded into silence as Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to scream at Malfoy, to tell him he was completely wrong, but she couldn’t. Some unidentifiable force inside wouldn’t let her. It was too much to take in, too much to try to digest, to separate the facts from mere observations and opinions.

She needed to get out of there.

Without a word, Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who was staring at her expressionlessly, and turned once more to the door. He did nothing to stop her, and at first she thought he was letting her go to signify the end of their conversation, but when she reached it and turned the knob, she remembered the locking spell he had placed on the entrance last night was still in affect.

“Unlock the door, Malfoy.” She told him calmly.

He retrieved his wand from the bed side table and walked to her, having yet to utter the counter spell and let her escape from the increasingly small confines of the room. He held the stick of wood in his hand loosely and brought his body to within centimeters of hers. She glared at him, refusing to look anywhere else but into his eyes. She wouldn’t back down, not to him. He smirked at her silent challenge.

“What is it going to take for you to stand up to them, you know, for more than a couple of hours?”

“Malfoy, unlock the door.” She requested again, this time more firmly.

“When they find out about us, because sooner or later they will, and they tell you to break it off again, what will you do? Will you submit to them the way you did 8 months ago, without a fight, or will you finally put yourself before them for once? You are so fucking intelligent, Granger; and one of the most assertive, confident, determined, ballsy birds I have ever known, and fucking sexy to boot, yet when it comes to Potter and Weasley, you are the exact opposite.”

“Why do you even care?”

“I like it when you’re all fiery and aggressive. It suits you better. Why do you think I get so turned on when we fight?”

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione stepped forward so that her breasts brushed against his bare chest.

“Unlock the fucking door right now, Malfoy.” Gone was the insistent request. It was a demand laden with acidity.

Malfoy licked his lips as heat and desire darkened his intense eyes. He muttered the counter spell and Hermione reached behind her, finding the knob and turning it easily. It barely opened before Malfoy brought his hand up and shut it forcefully.

“I intend to continue this later.” He murmured, leaning closer to her.

“I have nothing more to say on the subject, and neither should you.”

“I wasn’t referring to our discussion.”

He closed the already small gap between them and captured Hermione’s mouth with his, the kiss more violent and rapacious than the one they had shared only moments before in bed. He bit her lips painfully when she didn’t open for him right away, and when his tongue drove into her mouth, she nipped it just as hard. Growling gutturally, he pressed his muscular body to hers so brutally that her small frame slammed on the closed door, as their kiss grew more savage and frenzied, his wand dropping to the floor with a clatter.

Hermione’s anger and lust melded together and she lifted her leg, wrapping it around Malfoy’s hips, as she released her hold on the doorknob to place her arms around his naked shoulders, pulling him to her so that there was no part of her not in contact with him. When he grabbed her already raised leg and brought it to his waist, yanking her off of the floor and pinning her to the worn wood while grinding his large erect manhood against her aching center, she moaned wantonly into his mouth. Just as she was about to relive him of his tented boxers, Malfoy let go of her abruptly, causing her to nearly lose her footing and fall, and took a step away.

“Until then, Granger.” He said as his implication became plain and simple to her.

Hermione ran her index finger over her swollen and wet lips and slowly moved her gaze up and down, mentally drinking in a seductively aroused and disheveled Malfoy before nodding silently. She turned and opened the door without any hindrance just as the shower in the next room shut off. Making her way down the stairs to the kitchen, she already felt the wheels in her head start to turn, albeit very slowly for the time being. As if her mind wasn’t muddled enough with destroying the Horcrux today, the meeting being called only to figure out who the informant was, and Malfoy telling her that Harry and Ron were terrible friends who took advantage of her; he had to go and make her desperately randy as well, therefore setting her on edge until she could be appeased. She had a feeling that it was going to be a very long and arduous day.

* * * * *

Sitting on a simple chair in the corner of the drawing room hours later, Hermione had already begun to feel the weight of the day. Order members were starting to gradually enter the room and settle themselves anywhere they could to take part in the meeting that Harry had called for. They opted to hold the meeting in the drawing room because as big as the dining room was, there was no way it would hold 50 people comfortably.

Hermione had of course, been the first person in the room, picking out a chair that gave her a magnificent view of not only the whole room, but the doorway as well, and kept her out of the way so she would be able to study each member without drawing too much attention. Malfoy, who she had not seen since she left his bedroom that morning, had entered the room moments after her and hidden himself away in the dark corner right behind Hermione’s chair in order to observe the meeting without being seen and give Harry his thoughts on who he suspected the informant could be. She could hear him shuffling behind her every now and then, reminding her of his advantageous position by tugging on her curls or lightly running his fingertips along her exposed neck. Had she not been focused on something else, it certainly would have had a more irritable effect on her.

When Hermione had cracked the eggs into the skillet this morning, she was determined to push everything Malfoy had said to her out of her mind and just go on as though the conversation had never taken place. Well, it was a nice thought, but entirely unrealistic seeing as to whom the mind belonged. She had actually been doing pretty well, even when Harry came down the stairs looking refreshed and revived with a grumbling and rumpled Ron following behind him, still in his pajamas. They both smiled at her sheepishly and greeted her with kisses on the cheek before they sat at the table that had already been set with plates, silverware, and frosty glasses of pumpkin juice. They spoke to her animatedly, talking about everything from the battle to the plan of the meeting that Harry had come up with to destroying the Horcrux after breakfast to telling her how beautiful she looked this morning. Listening to them with a smile, Hermione thought Malfoy couldn’t be more wrong about how they were supposedly taking advantage of her. He was just talking out of his arse.

Then, as Hermione scooped scrambled eggs with kippers and toast on their plates, it happened. Ron instantly started whining about how he didn’t want his eggs scrambled, he wanted them fried, and his toast was already too cold. Just as Hermione set Ron’s repaired breakfast in front of him, and was about to eat her own, Harry piped up and said he wanted coffee instead of pumpkin juice and could she put the kettle on. Suddenly, the inkling that Malfoy had some small amount of substance to his reasoning was back, resulting in Hermione becoming more aware of the little things, and by the afternoon they had begun to add up.

With breakfast done, and the dishes washed by Hermione and “helped” by Harry, which consisted of him drying them exceptionally slow, as Ron reclined back in his chair and complained about his arm being in the sling for another couple of days, the trio went to the library to destroy the most recently apprehended Horcrux. Basically, it was Hermione doing abundant amounts of research on how to vanquish the part of Voldemort’s soul while keeping Hufflepuff’s cup intact. Harry and Ron sat at the table with her like two bumps on a log poking at the cup with assorted objects; a pencil, Hermione’s 5 galleon eagle feather quill, Harry’s lighter, and an unidentifiable long brown stick that Ron had found under an outworn and faded green armchair. Thankfully, Hermione had come across a difficult and dangerous potion that would do the trick just as the boys were considering fabricating a lasso out of Harry’s shoelace.

When it came to brewing the potion, Hermione actually didn’t mind doing all of the work, and was in fact adamant about neither Harry nor Ron coming within a couple of meters of the simmering cauldron. Their jobs had been to retrieve the ingredients she needed, most of which had been supplied by Snape on a weekly basis, and toss them to her very gently and accurately. It had taken nearly three hours to get it to the perfect color (a dark red that resembled blood) and smell (a cross between copper and Ron’s dirty socks). During this time, Hermione supervised and did the necessary stirring while Harry put the final touches on his strategy for the meeting and informed the members of the Order when it would take place. Ron showered and dressed, probably indulging in a wank as well, because when he came back into the library, he was a lot more relaxed and in a much better mood.

After Hermione had announced that the potion was finally ready, Harry and Ron joined her near the table they had set the cauldron on and told her to take a few steps away for her own safety. Not seeing much of a point in arguing, she had enough of that already today, Hermione did as she was told, watched silently as Harry grabbed a set of tongs and lowered the cup into the concoction carefully. It was fully immersed in the liquid for minutes without anything happening, with no sign that the soul had been destroyed. Hermione knew that she had followed the directions correctly and had done everything precisely, so she no there was no mistake on her part, but something was obviously wrong. She stepped forward cautiously until she stood next to Ron. They all three peered over the pot and watched as the potion bubbled and sizzled. Finally, the smallest puff of smoke plumbed from the middle before the mixture became unsettlingly motionless. Harry and Ron, concluding that the potion had done its job, stepped away and congratulated each other and Hermione as she gazed at the unmoving solution quizzically. Did she miss something in the description of the potion about a delayed reaction?

Apparently, she had, because without warning, a loud explosion shook the room and sent Hermione to the floor, yelping as her bum hit the hard ground. When the smoke cleared, she saw Ron and Harry looking down at her, eyes and mouths wide open, and completely unscathed. Hermione, on the other hand, had caught the brunt of the explosion and was drenched in the potion, staining her skin and clothes red, from head to toe and smelled quite unsavorily.

“Hermione, are you all right?” Harry asked her, his voice and green eyes full of concern.

Standing up, Hermione looked down at herself as she flapped her arms out, shaking off the excess slime that was dripping from her limbs.

“I’m okay.” She said, wiping as much off her as she could. “The book didn’t say anything about side effects should the potion get on the body once all of the ingredients have been added together…I think.”

As Hermione hovered over the open book, and sighed with relief to find she was right, she heard desperate attempts from Harry and Ron to stifle their snickers. When she lifted her head and glared at them angrily, it seemed to set them off and they burst out with full on laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” she questioned them hotly.

“We’re sorry, Hermione,” Harry told her in between guffaws, “but you look so bloody absurd with that red gunk all over you.”

“And you smell just bloody awful.” Added Ron, wiping his eyes of the tears that had formed from laughing so hard.

“Do you realize that I could have been seriously injured?” she shouted.

Instantly their faces became serious and the chuckling quieted.

“Are you?” Ron asked.

“No, but…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, for once she confirmed that she was in fact unharmed, their amusement took them over again and they howled with renewed laughter. The annoyance and temper that Hermione had felt escalating little by little each time they validated Malfoy’s point flowed through out her veins, and it was becoming increasingly harder to hold it back.

“Fine!” she yelled over their loud sounds of regalement, “If you think it is so damn funny, you can clean this bloody mess up yourselves and see how fucking hilarious it is then!”

Hermione’s order did nothing to hinder them and wasn’t really sure they heard her until they withdrew their wands and struggled to cast Scourgifies while alternating between taking deep breaths, laughing, and halfheartedly apologizing to Hermione. Fed up with them, and knowing that if she stayed in the room a moment longer, they would continue to take the piss out of her; Hermione wordlessly stomped to the door, intent on taking a long, hot, and calming shower.

So two hours later, Hermione took her place at the chair in the corner, armed with a notebook and pencil, prepared to take down the names of every person who entered the room as well as notes about them as she surveyed them during the meeting. When Malfoy entered the room, he strolled up to her as though he was taking a walk in the park, staring at her darkly the whole time. He said nothing to her as he headed her way, nor when he stepped around her and placed himself behind her. It was a good thing that Harry had decided to hold the meeting in the late afternoon, for if had she not seen Malfoy disappear into the darkness she would not have known he was there. His scent washed over her, the same expensive cologne and parchment since school, and even the faint smell of lemons, instantly heightening the arousal she had managed to sustain so far. That coupled with his reminders of his opportune location made Hermione presume that it was going to be very difficult to concentrate, but as soon as members started taking their positions around the room, his gestures ceased and she barely heard him step back further into the shadows.

Hermione’s attention swiftly changed focus to a very pregnant Luna Lovegood being helped onto the overstuffed settee by her husband Neville Longbottom, who was often overly cautious when it came to his wife and their unborn baby. Both were as caring and kind as they were back at school, and now incredibly devout and passionate members of the Order. Hermione knew that they would never betray them or Harry. On the other side of the room sat Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, both looking serious and alert. Parvati Patil sat by herself and stared at a non-descript spot on the wall, her eyes appearing dead and unfocused; a quality they instantly took on when her twin sister and parents were brutally murdered by an unknown Death Eater. As Hermione’s gazed swept the room, she spotted other former Dumbledore’s Army members from school, minus those who had either refused to join the Order or who had been killed, the older members of the Order, the Weasleys, and other’s who didn’t fit into any other categories. Yes, the Weasley’s did get their own heading; there were just so damn many of them.

When Hermione observed no one else coming into the crowded room, she surmised that the whole Order had arrived. They all stood or sat around the room, speaking in hushed tones to each other, asking if any one knew why a meeting had been called on such sort notice, what it was about, had something of great importance happened, etc. Other than herself, Hermione saw Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin not speaking either, instead they were examining the scene much as she was, carefully but inconspicuously. Harry must have told them what it was about when he was calling for the meeting. The room quieted at once as Ron entered the full room first, followed by Harry. All eyes were on him in one moment, and Hermione could hear a soft snort from behind. That was when she knew, Dumbledore was no longer their main leader, Harry was.

He walked to the middle of the room, where everyone could see him without hindrance, and stood, taking in all of the faces. Hermione was sure they were taking him in as well. He wore black trousers, a dark burgundy Oxford shirt, and black boots. He exuded confidence and powerfulness while demanding respect. His eyes were a brilliant green, standing out against the dark clothes that adorned his muscularly lean body, slowly moving from face to face as though he was committing each and every one into his memory. He opened his mouth to speak, and Hermione noticed a collective movement amongst the members, most leaning in without thinking twice, anxiously waiting to hear what he had to say.

Harry didn’t go straight into his plan of speaking about the attacks on him and Ron, but chose to stick to the basics of every Order of the Phoenix meeting by checking on the progress of the various missions some of the members had been sent on, as well as asking about the well-being of all of them. He gravely listened to what everyone had to say, gave advice when need be, and comforted those who had recently lost loved ones. Hermione tried her best to pay attention, but found it increasingly hard when every time a small breeze would flow through out the room, courtesy of the window she had opened earlier that day, and she would be assailed with the reminder that Malfoy stood right behind her. Just his mere presence, coupled with his intoxicating smell wafting over her and the lack of any helpful giveaways from those listening to Harry, had her closing her eyes, breathing in deeply, and racked with the all too familiar pangs of desire. She should have shagged him this morning when she had the chance; otherwise, she wouldn’t have the attention span of a desperately randy teenager hopped up on sugar quills and chocolate frogs trying to fight the urge to jump over her chair and tackle Malfoy to the floor while simultaneously attacking his mouth and stripping him naked.

Flushing at the thought, Hermione opened her eyes to see Harry standing in the middle of the room once more, wearing an apologetic smile that didn’t reach his hard glimmering eyes.

“Unfortunately, there is still one more topic I would like to address during this meeting, but since we have all been in here for a little more than an hour, I suggest we all take a break and enjoy the delicious treats that Mrs. Weasley has set up in the kitchen for us. We’ll let you know when we are ready to continue.” Harry said before his eyes met with Ron’s and he strode out of the room, with Ron close behind.

At once, everyone broke out into undistinguishable conversation as they arose from the seats or moved from where they were standing and vacated the room one by one. Hermione had made the choice to wait until everyone left, for she had no desire to join the mass of people waiting shoulder to shoulder to get through the door way and into the kitchen. She just sat in her chair quietly, nodding in return to those who smiled and waved at her. Soon Luna and Neville were the last to leave, both greeting her with warm and friendly grins, as Luna waddled out of the door with Neville following, begging her to be careful on the stairs.

Hermione rose from her chair, intending to go downstairs and find Harry and Ron so they could discuss the meeting so far, but was halted by a strong arm reaching out of the shadows behind her, grasping her upper arm rather brutally, and yanking her into the darkness. She was pushed roughly to the wall and given no chance to escape before Malfoy pressed his body to hers. Shrouded in darkness, she could see Malfoy’s silhouette in front of her, and there was just enough light to see his face and the mischievousness glinting in his eyes. He had yet to speak one word, and she could feel his breath dancing across her cheek, the smell of lemons and all memories linked to it causing her skin to grow hot with anticipation and want.

Yet she had to try to keep her wits about her. They were in a quite public room in the house with an Order of the Phoenix meeting taking place in said room, and while she was desperate with some sort of bodily contact with Malfoy, she certainly wasn’t going to take the chance of getting caught by 50 other people.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked huskily.

“You’re driving me crazy, Granger.” He replied, his voice just as heavy as hers, as his lips skimmed her neck. “How am I supposed to concentrate when all I can think about is fucking you?”

Hermione wrenched her neck to the side, allowing him more access, and her hands dove into his hair, her bodily needs already betraying her mental commands.

“Malfoy…” she protested before his deep voice cut her off.

“It is so damn hard for me…” he started, grinding his pelvis against hers, his already rock hard erection at the juncture of her thighs accentuating his words, “…to do my little assigned job when all I really want to do is rip your clothes off, stick my cock in your tight, wet pussy, and fuck you until we are both near unconsciousness.”

His hands went to her blouse, unbuttoning it quickly and violently untucking it from her skirt as his mouth caught hers in a fierce and animalistic kiss, his tongue instantly thrusting between her lips without invitation, stirring with hunger and greed. His mouth devoured hers with skillful abandon, sending her mind and senses reeling. Pulling from him, Hermione freed her swollen lips, still hanging on to her rapidly depleting awareness.

“We can’t, Malfoy, not in here, not now.”

He paid her no heed, determining that if he couldn’t have her lips, he would move back to her neck and newly exposed chest. Of course, her body had a mind of its own by now and did nothing to coincide with her unconvincing words. Her fingers remained entangled in his hair and her legs had moved apart straight away when she felt his hand snake up her skirt and his digits stroke her folds through her now completely drenched knickers.

“I have been craving you all day, Granger. I can taste nothing but you on my lips, in my mouth, and feel nothing but your hands on my skin, your warm and wet cunt surrounding my dick.”

Without warning, Malfoy pushed the crotch of Hermione’s knickers aside and plunged two fingers into her, pumping in and out of her tortuously slow, teasing her by ghosting his thumb over her quivering clit. Gone was all reasonable thought, and all Hermione wanted was to feel him. She removed her hands from his silken tresses and reached down, yanking his shirt up, groaning disappointedly when she remembered he wasn’t wearing a button down shirt. She touched and scraped every amount of skin she came into contact with, relishing in the hisses of pleasure escaping Malfoy’s mouth when she combined that with biting and licking his neck when given the opportunity.

“I have yet to fuck you the way I have wanted to ever since I arrived at this shitehole and saw you standing there in that kitchen, so fucking pissed off, so fucking drop-dead sexy.”

Hermione writhed and bit her lip severely as Malfoy spoke and pressed hard on her throbbing nub as his fingers moved deeper and faster. She came violently, and was certain her vision would have turned black had her eyes not been shut tightly. She opened them as the waves of her orgasm ebbed and flowed throughout her body, noticing that Malfoy was gradually easing his fingers out of her opening.

“Malfoy…” she started once more, but was interrupted yet again.

“Don’t you dare tell me ‘no’, Granger.” He growled. “Even if I wanted to, and believe me when I say there is no part of me that does, I wouldn’t stop. I am going to fuck you up against this bloody wall whether you want me to or not.”

Ensnaring his lips in a hasty but harsh kiss, Hermione pulled away before he could fully indulge in it.

“I was going to tell back up so I can undo your trousers.”

She heard Malfoy chuckle and felt his body shift off hers, allowing her hands to move from where they were resting on his waist to his button and zipper, unfastening them speedily and withdrawing his hardness from the confines of his boxers and trousers. She grabbed and stroked him, her fingers gliding over what felt like cement encased in velvet, and was enjoying hearing the satisfied sounds emerging from the back of his throat until she supposed it became too much for him. Before she knew what was happening, he tugged her knickers down to the floor, roughly gripped her thighs, lifted her off the floor, and pushed her to the wall, sheathing himself inside her in one forceful and completely pleasurable thrust, resulting in both of them groaning with gratification.

Malfoy had only started pumping into her when he suddenly stopped his movements and lifted his head from the spot on Hermione’s chest that he had been laving. Lifting her head from where it was resting against the wall, Hermione looked down at Malfoy with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Shut up, Granger.” He whispered.

“What? Why?”

He didn’t have to answer, for she finally heard what he did, Harry and Ron’s voices, just outside the room, in the hallway. While simultaneously begging that they didn’t come in the room and for Malfoy to start fucking her again, Hermione’s once dormant awareness kicked back into motion.

What if they did come in here? Were they going to find her? Were they going to see her pinned to a wall, her shirt wide open, her knickers dangling at her ankle, with Malfoy buried inside her? Would they disown her right then and there? Would it turn them on? Why were they coming in here in the first place? Did they have the same idea as she and Malfoy? Did they want a quick shag, too? Was the Order of the Phoenix was really just a cover-up for a mental sex-crazed orgy club and no one told her about it?

“Granger,” Malfoy murmured deviously, “stop thinking and no matter what, do not make a sound.”

Hermione was about to argue with him, to tell him to put her down and they could finish this in a more private setting, but just as she opened her mouth, Ron and Harry stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. She whimpered quietly as Malfoy begun his movements again, languid and deliberate, and while he wasn’t driving into her as fast as usual, he was impaling her hard and deep. She closed her eyes, wanting to banish her two friends from her sight as Malfoy fucked her, but he had other plans.

“Open your eyes, Granger, watch them while I fuck you.” He breathed in her ear unevenly, sending shivers and new waves of desire through out her body.

“No.”

“You can’t escape it this time, the two aspects of your life, what is virtuous and what is sinful, lies and truth, love and lust, light and dark, them and me.” He said quietly, his voice deep, harsh, and full of too much meaning.

“It’s wrong.” She managed to gasp.

“It always has been and that’s why you get off on it. Shut up and open your fucking eyes.”

She wanted to tell him no again, but for some reason she couldn’t. The idea of Malfoy doing wicked things to her with Ron and Harry in the room oddly turned her on, not that she would ever admit it. So she did, she looked at Ron and Harry, who were now standing in the supposed empty room, looking at each other gravely.

“Have you seen Hermione?” she heard Harry ask.

“No,” Ron replied, “she must be downstairs somewhere with all those people.”

Had she not been fighting back the sounds of ecstasy, Hermione would have sighed with relief knowing that they had no idea what was happening only meters away from them.

“I suppose she can tell us what she thinks after the meeting. What about Malfoy, have you seen him?”

Shaking his head, Ron said, “Nope, not at all today. I still can’t believe you let him in the Order, Harry.”

“He is good to have on our side, Ron. I trust him.”

Hermione felt Malfoy smile against her neck, his thrusts becoming a bit faster. She mewled despite her best efforts and Malfoy clamped his hand over her mouth, stifling her sounds of pleasure as he continued his ministrations. She knew he had his wand on him, and he obviously had a free hand to reach it with and whisper a silencing charm, but she also knew he wouldn’t. He was enjoying it too much, having her in such a position, nearly incoherent with the pure bliss he was giving her but telling her to keep her eyes on Harry and Ron, knowing she was too far gone to fight him. He understanding that they could be discovered at any moment, that one small sound, an escaped moan, her back hitting the wall, his soft grunts, would give them away. It was dangerous, incredibly exciting, completely arousing, and extremely stupid.

“Well, I don’t.” Ron huffed. “I didn’t even see him in here during the meeting.”

Hermione heard Harry sigh.

“I am sure he was just tucked away where no one could see him.”

Malfoy was steadily increasing his pace, and Hermione was now thankful that his hand remained over her mouth. Left to her own devices, there was no way she would be able to contain herself, especially when Malfoy seized her bra, pulled the cup down with his teeth, and engulfed her taut nipple in his hot mouth, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and nipping it. When Hermione’s eyes closed at the exhilarating sensation, the nip turned into a piercing bite, and they flew back open, her gaze landing first on Malfoy looking up at her wickedly and jerking his head towards Harry and Ron. Hermione lifted her stare and continued to watch them, although her vision was becoming blearier with each pang of pleasure Malfoy induced.

“Did you notice anyone acting out of the ordinary?” Harry asked.

“Not really, but you weren’t talking about something that would make anyone nervous. We should try to find Hermione, see what she thinks.”

It was then that Malfoy had switched his treatment to her other breast, sucking it in his mouth abruptly at the same time he plunged into her deeper and harder than before, resulting in her coming unexpectedly and uncontrollably, her low moan drowning out Harry’s response and her vision going black. When both cleared a moment later, she saw Ron and Harry turning their heads and looking around the room bewilderedly.

“What was that?” Ron inquired with confusion in his voice.

“I’m not sure. Probably nothing. Old house, you know. Let’s get downstairs before all the food is gone.”

Relief poured over Hermione, mixing with the elevating arousal Malfoy continued to invoke with his unfaltering maneuvers, as she saw Harry turn and walk towards the door, but was apprehensive when she saw Ron didn’t follow. Instead, he stood there, with a puzzled look on his face; his crossed arms resting against his orange cotton covered chest.

“Do you think they are shagging again?” he asked.

Hermione watched as Harry pivoted to face Ron and tilted his head.

“Who?”

“Hermione and Malfoy.”

Harry frowned and scratched his head, inadvertently mussing his unruly hair.

“Who knows? Sometimes I think they are, but then I think that Malfoy doesn’t have enough bolloks to pull it off while living in the same house as us, and Hermione knows it’ll just piss us off again. I am pretty sure I prevented it from happening again back at school. And if they are, I will just tell her to break it off again, and she will without argument, just like before.”

The fear of being found out was suddenly gone, and Hermione could feel her anger growing once more, as she took in Harry’s response.

“Who are you going to choose next time, Granger?” Malfoy muttered seductively.

She bit Malfoy’s hand sealing her mouth as hard as she could, and he snapped it away as he removed his mouth from her neck to stare at her in furious perplexity. Before he could complain, Hermione grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers forcefully. Their lips crashed together and she surged all of her rage and passion into the kiss, attacking Malfoy with wild wantonness, no longer caring that Harry and Ron were in the same room. She could vaguely hear Ron agreeing with Harry as they left the room and shut the door behind them.

Wrenching her mouth away to catch her breath, Hermione held on to Malfoy as his speed increased, her heels digging into his bum, encouraging him with her legs and words to go faster, harder, deeper. He plunged into her primitively; her back and head slamming against the wall with loud thuds, as his hand ventured between them and his thumb vigorously caressed Hermione’s clit.

She came again, her inner muscles contracting around Malfoy’s cock and feeling every part of his length inside her sending her into an exquisite eclipse of everything surrounding her except him. She cried out his name and arched her back so severely she sent them tumbling to the floor. Malfoy landed on his back next to her chair with a grunt and held on to her hips so tightly his fingers dug into her flesh painfully, ensuring that she remained impaled on him.

Their bodies stayed in the shadows, but both of their faces were clearer to one another. Malfoy’s handsome features were graced with an expression of amusement and carnality. His swollen wet lips were smirking at Hermione, daring her to continue, because they both knew there was no hiding if Harry and Ron came back in the room. Hermione reflected his visage, placed her hands on his chest, lifted herself so that she was straddling him, and begun to ride him rapidly.

“Does that mean…fuck…you choose me?” he asked, lifting his head off of the floor.

“No.” she moaned.

“Them?”

“No.”

Hermione moved atop of him rhythmically, her fingernails scraping his chest and stomach as his hands kneaded both of her breasts abrasively. His head fell back to the ground and his eyes so stormy they were almost black ogled her lasciviously. She rolled her pelvis against his in small circles and his hips lurched upwards as he shot his release into her with a loud “Fuck!” His hand traveled down her stomach and flicked her sensitive nub with his finger, and that was all it took for her to join him.

Exhausted, Hermione laid her head on his chest and breathed in deeply as post-coital spasms rocked her body. Beneath her, Malfoy smoothed back her hair and patted her on the bum, as though he was congratulating her on a job well done. She could hear his accelerated heart beat as he struggled to regain his normal air intake. If she not heard the voice from downstairs becoming moderately louder, she could have stayed like that until Malfoy was ready for another go. Instead, she raised herself off him, his softening member sliding out of her easily, both of them sighing at the loss of contact.

Removing her wand from on top of her notebook at the foot of her chair where she had set it down earlier, she cast a cleaning charm on both of them and a contraception charm on herself before pulling her knickers up and buttoning her shirt. Off to her side, Malfoy had gotten up from the floor, fastened his trousers, and pulled down his shirt. She could feel him watching her as she went to an old unenchanted mirror to fix her appearance. Her hair was barely holding in its ponytail and wildly curled around her face; some strands stuck to her plump wet lips and flushed cheeks.

“You should just stay like that. You’re more appealing after you have been thoroughly fucked.” He told her.

“Right. One look at me and Harry and Ron would know exactly what we were doing.” She replied, freeing her hair and pulling it back into a neater version of what it was before.

“Does it even matter anymore?”

“As much as I wish it didn’t, it does.”

Hermione looked over at him, and he stared back at her, his eyes hard and his mouth set in a straight line. As she straightened her clothes, he walked over to her, stilling her busy hands with his.

“It won’t one day, Granger. Something will set you off, and you will reach the point where you won’t cater to them anymore. Until then, I am perfectly content fucking you behind their backs, well, in front of them in this case.”

“What makes you think that will happen?” she asked.

She wanted to believe that it wouldn’t happen; that there was nothing so inconsiderate and insensitive Ron or Harry could do that would bring her to that point. Even after what she had observed today, all the small things they unintentionally did, and those not so unintentional, they would never go against her, or do something they know would hurt or anger her on purpose. Malfoy believed differently.

“Because there will be a time that they will fuck up, and you won’t be able to come up with one excuse for their stupidity, no matter how smart you fancy yourself.”

Before Hermione could respond, the sound of multiple conversations and footsteps outside of the door prevented her. Malfoy smirked and winked at her, then smacked her arse barbarously.

“Get in your bloody corner.” She said crossly, pointing to the dark alcove.

He snorted lightly and disappeared into the shadows once more just as the door opened and Harry stepped into the room. He spotted her at once and strode directly over to her as Ron ushered all of the other members in the room.

“Hermione, where have you been?” he snapped.

She looked at him apologetically, and saw the small amount of anger in his eyes fade.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I was around, but I must have just missed you. There are a lot of people here.”

There, it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

“Okay. Have you seen Malfoy?”

“Only for a moment. He is in that dark corner over there, watching the meeting where no one can see him.” She told him, gesturing in the general direction of his presence.

“Oh. Well, I suppose I should start.”

Hermione nodded and sat down in her chair, holding her abandoned notebook and pencil in her lap. When everyone had taken their previously vacated places, Harry once again stood in the middle of the room, silently commanding all undivided attention. Hermione knew it would be much easier to mediate on the task at hand now that she had gotten her aggressions out, amongst other things.

Harry cleared his throat, and all eyes fell on him.

“There is another reason I called this meeting today.” He began, his voice steady and serious. “You have shared your stories of victory, and failure, with me, given me your trust and allegiance, and I intend to do the same. Recently Ron and I have been going on a number of missions, missions that some of you knew about. As much as I would like to, I can’t tell you the reasons for these missions, but I can tell you what has been happening during them. The last few times, Death Eaters have ambushed Ron and me, and one of those times, Hermione was with us and we almost lost her. The first incident…”

Hermione tuned Harry out, knowing that this would be the moment to pay very close attention and concentrate on the sea of faces surrounding the room. If there was an informant, hopefully they would feel somewhat guilty at putting their friend’s in danger, and if not, perhaps a great red flashing arrow would pop up and point to the traitor while he giggled evilly and rubbed his hands together. They could only be so lucky.

As Harry went on talking, speaking of the ambushes in detail, Hermione’s gaze spanned the room. She scrutinized each and every face she examined, jotting down little notes to remind her of everyone’s reaction to Harry’s dissertation. Luna’s eyes spoke of surprise, but then again they always did, and her mouth was slightly hanging open as she absentmindedly rubbed her large stomach. Neville was hanging on every word Harry said, nothing but intense worry for his friends etched on his face. Lavender Brown sat next to Anthony Goldstein, her hand ensnared in his tightly, with tears in her eyes while her boyfriend frowned and darted his eyes around the room, as if he had the same initial thought as Malfoy. The most affected by Harry’s commentary were the Weasley twins. The usually smiling, jovial, and playful blokes were sneering and looking as though they were about ready to jump up and beat who ever they thought could be responsible for the attacks to a bloody pulp.

Most of the older members, who had been through both wars, aside from the three that already knew the purpose of the meeting, did not appear as astonished or upset, but they each regarded Harry with an understanding of what he and Ron had been through. They had all lived it, fought in many battles and fortunately survived. Being more experienced, they all knew that battles, betrayal, attacks, injuries, death, was a part of war.

As Harry continued, Hermione wrote down the details needed for sorting out the informant, but with each description she provided, she felt her hopes of discovering them dwindle every time she realized that the various receptions of his words, whether they were upset, angry, or surprised, were all genuine. Her gaze skimmed the crowd over and over again, but nothing and no one stood out to her. This was harder than she had anticipated.

“Look to your left, over near the writing desk.” Malfoy whispered in her ear softly.

Hermione stealthily turned her head a bit, only enough to see Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, best friends since school and flat mates, sitting at the edge of the group. Obviously, Malfoy had detected something she hadn’t. Dean was listening to Harry, completely absorbed in the retelling of the violent occurrences, shaking his head in disbelief every once in a while. It was clear that Dean, someone she had known since the beginning of school, was not the person they were looking for. Hermione transferred her view to Seamus, and the second she did, she knew.

He, like the other members, was looking at Harry, but his face was stony and expressionless. She supposed he thought he was doing an excellent job at not giving himself away, and he would have gotten away with it if she hadn’t been paying such close attention to him now. However, there were subtle hints that Hermione had missed before. His eyes were wide, guilt-ridden and full of regret. Upon closer inspection, Hermione also noticed that small beads of perspiration had begun to form at his hairline, and his hands were gripping onto the side of his chair, turning his knuckles white. He was the traitor.

“Do you see?” she heard Malfoy murmur.

She nodded her head scantly as she swiftly changed her stare to Ron, trying to catch his eyes with hers. Blue met with brown and Hermione gestured almost indistinctly to Seamus’s direction with her head. Ron, as oblivious as he was, instantly looked to where she had indicated and narrowed his eyes in study. Hermione prayed that Ron could recognize what she and Malfoy did, and after a moment or two of anticipating Ron would just stare at her like she was mental and shrug his shoulders, she let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding when his expression turned to one of quiet fury and shook his head in agreement. Hermione then returned to listening to Harry, waiting for the end of the meeting to tell him exactly what they had figured out.

“Now, while I don’t think these attacks are purely coincidental, I am not sure Voldemort knows what the purpose of these missions are. He could be having us tracked for all I know. The point I am trying to make here is I want all of you to be attentive and cautious, and not just when on missions, but anytime you are out in public. Always be on guard, because you never know when you will have to fight for your life.”

A cumulative sound of concurrence sounded through out the room as Hermione saw Seamus sigh heavily and wipe his forehead out of the corner of her eye. She knew he thought he was safe, that he hadn’t been caught, and that he was safe, but it was nothing further from the truth. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, feeling fear, sadness, and confusion for him, wanting to hate him for what he had done, for what he had put Harry and Ron, and even herself through, his supposed friends, but she couldn’t. It was the spoils of war, those who she thought she knew and trusted, those who she thought were the enemy and evil, turned out to be a contradiction.

“With that, our meeting is concluded. If any of you have any questions, or just want to talk, you can contact either me or Professor Dumbledore.” Harry announced.

Jolting out of her seat while placing her wand in her back pocket, Hermione rushed to where Harry now stood at the door, bidding farewell to the members leaving the room, and placed herself behind him. Ron watched them from across the room where he was standing with his family, chatting loudly.

“It’s Seamus.” She told him quietly.

“Are you sure?” His voice was full of doubt as he turned to face her, his eyes questioning, searching her expression for any sign of uncertainty.

“Positive.”

“All right.” He sighed, disheartened.

Hermione stayed by his side, accompanying him in his less than enthusiastic good-byes. When Dumbledore stopped in front of Harry and shook his hand, his unusually stoic eyes remained on Harry’s, and Hermione saw him duck his head ever so slightly, as though he was giving Harry his approval to do what he decided with the spy. Lupin did the same, as well as offering Hermione a warm and soft smile. Snape had moved over to the shadowed corner occupied by Malfoy for a brief point before leaving, giving Harry nothing but a sneer as he passed.

Thankfully, by the time Dean and Seamus had reached the exit, the drawing room was nearly empty, except for Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy, who was still hidden in the shadows.

“Bye, Dean.” Hermione said with a smile as he passed by.

“Bye, Hermione. Harry, Ron, see you mates later.” He responded, grinning in return.

Seamus followed him, a similar parting and smile plastered on his face as he made his way to the door. It faded as Harry grasped his arm before he stepped out, holding him back. He looked down at the unusual contact quizzically, then back at Harry.

“Seamus, we were hoping to have a word with you.”

Dean had stopped outside of the door and turned around when he heard Harry’s request. Hermione saw Seamus switch his startled stare from Harry to his best mate, his eyes pleading desperately.

“That’s all right, I’ll stay.” Dean said.

“Actually, we need to speak to him alone, Dean.” Harry uttered apologetically.

“Okay. See you at home, Seamus?”

“Yeah.” He muttered in return, shaking Harry’s hold off while offering Dean a reassuring nod of his head. He turned, glanced at Harry, Hermione, then Ron, and retreated back into the room.

Harry shut the door after Dean started descending the stairs and grabbed a chair next to him, dragging it to the middle of the floor. Hermione walked over to the settee that Luna and Neville had vacated and sat down, uneasy that she didn’t know what was going to happen next. This was something she had never discussed with Harry, what they were going to do with the informant once they found out who it was.

“Have a seat, Seamus.” Harry implored, pointing to the chair before he took a stool for himself and set it down right in front of his former friend. Without a word, he did as he was told, and looked at the three of them expressionlessly.

“Is there something you would like to tell us?”

Seamus silently shook his head and remained impassive. Harry let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“Have you been leaking information about the Order of the Phoenix to Voldemort?”

Repeating the negative gesture, Seamus still revealed nothing. Hermione noticed that the small drops of sweat had returned and his leg was beginning to shake in apprehension.

“He’s lying.” Said Malfoy as he emerged from the dark corner, everyone’s attention shifting to him.

“What is he doing here?” Seamus cried. “He is a Death Eater!”

“Correction, I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a Death Eater. It makes for very interesting dinner parties.” Malfoy said as he walked across the room and stood next to Harry.

“But…but…” stuttered Seamus.

“But you saw me at the meetings and assumed I had just taken the place of my father at the Dark Lord’s scaly right hand? You aren’t the only spy, Finnegan.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Seamus scowled angrily.

“You are completely mental.”

“And you are a terrible liar.” Malfoy retorted as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small vial full of clear liquid. “And this will prove it.”

Hermione instantly recognized it as Veritaserum. If Seamus wasn’t going to tell the truth, they were going to force it out of him. Apparently, he recognized it too, for his eyes grew as wide as saucers and he quickly jumped to his feet. Harry rose a second later, and he vehemently pushed Seamus back down with the aid of Malfoy. Those damn seeker reflexes must stay with them for life.

“You can’t do this! It is illegal!” Seamus protested, his claim falling on deaf ears as Ron rounded Harry and Malfoy and captured Seamus’s head in his large hands, despite his left arm being hindered by the sling, and forced his head back. Although Seamus kicked and thrashed wildly, he couldn’t escape their hold on him. Malfoy brought the vial up to his mouth, uncorked it with his teeth, and spit the stopper out to the floor.

Hermione watched the scene unfold in front of her in horror. She felt as though she was on the outside looking in, just a spectator watching something terrible that she could do nothing to prevent or alleviate. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, because she didn’t know what to do. During the war the lines had been blurred so often that every action just seemed to bleed together, and when it came to victory, right and wrong seemed so hard to distinguish sometimes.

“Granger,” Malfoy shouted, breaking her out of her contemplation. “You need to pour this into his mouth.”

“What?” she asked dazedly.

“Damn it, Granger, get your arse up and put this fucking potion down this traitorous wanker’s throat!”

Hermione got to her feet, but made no movement forward to where they were restraining an aggressively struggling Seamus. She just kept staring at him, wondering why he did it, why he sold them out to the enemy, why he turned on his friends. She just couldn’t comprehend it. He stared back at her as he uselessly fought them, his eyes beseeching her, begging her to help him.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled.

The desperate petition caused Hermione to break eye contact with Seamus and she banished all of the anguish out of her head, remembering what Moody had taught her. No emotions, just do what you need to in order to survive. Hermione hardened her face and cleared her mind, marched over to Malfoy, and snatched the vial out of his hand. She turned to Ron.

“Do it.” She simply stated.

Ron nodded and plugged Seamus’s nose, cutting off his air supply and forcing his mouth open. Hermione saw her chance and drained the bottle into his gaping opening, shutting it with her small hand to make sure he had no choice but to swallow it. Satisfied when she saw his throat muscles constrict and move downward, Hermione removed her hand and took a step back, dropping the empty bottle to the floor. Ron let go of his head and mirrored Hermione’s movements while staring at her in admiration. Seamus on the other hand, was none too happy with her.

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed as he begun grappling with renewed vigor.

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione slapped Seamus viciously, the loud sound of her palm smacking his cheek resounding through out the room. She could feel Harry and Malfoy’s eyes on her, but they said nothing as they continued to subdue Seamus, nor when she moved in between them to face him point blank.

“Don’t you dare call me a fucking bitch! I am not the one who turned informer for Voldemort and sold out my fucking friends, you bloody traitor!”

“I’d rather be a living traitor than a dead anarchist!” he roared back at her, trying to get out of the strong grips Harry and Malfoy had him under.

“When did you become a Death Eater?” Harry asked, signaling the start of the interrogation.

“A few months ago, it was a private induction. I was told to keep my identity hidden from the other Death Eaters.” Seamus admitted disconcertedly.

“The half blood treatment.” Malfoy declared knowingly as he smirked superiorly.

Seamus glared at Malfoy, his usually kind and humor filled eyes containing nothing but hate.

“It’s better than being treated like a worthless Mudblood!” he seethed, his expression of animosity switching, now directed at Hermione.

Hermione raised her hand again, fully prepared to deal Seamus’s face another painful blow, but Harry beat her to the punch, literally, and his fist connected with Seamus’s jaw. Hermione was certain that if Malfoy and Harry had not been holding onto either shoulder, Seamus would have fallen to the ground, chair and all. Instead he grimaced and spit a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the floor, right at Hermione’s feet.

“Speak like that again, and I won’t leave it at one hit.” Harry warned, his cold and threatening voice matching his stony expression.

“And he won’t be the only bloke beating you bloody.” An infuriated Ron added from behind him.

Seamus sat in the chair, fuming and glowering, but had no response. His struggling had calmed, but Harry and Malfoy’s hands remained on him, and every once in a while he would jerk his shoulders, testing their hold on him to no avail.

“Who did you have to torture and kill at your incitation?” asked Malfoy as he penetrated Seamus with his steely stare.

The question was sudden and unexpected. Hermione felt Harry stiffen next to her and she saw Ron flinch slightly. She looked over at Malfoy to see his eyes had grown dark and haunted. He never spoke of what took place at his induction to the Death Eaters or any of the meetings he attended, not even to Harry. Hermione had suspected that he had to do something heinous to prove his devotion to Voldemort, but it was just that, a suspicion. Now, it was a fact. Hermione gasped at the realization and Malfoy’s gaze met hers briefly before returning to Seamus’s once more.

“Some Muggle bird I had never seen before.” He replied unemotionally. “The Dark Lord brought her into the room and told me that she thought I was weak, spineless, a nobody. He said that I had to prove her wrong, teach her a lesson, so I did.”

“Why?” Harry inquired plainly, knowing that he didn’t have to elaborate. They all understood he wanted to know what drove Seamus to become a follower of Voldemort.

“Do you honestly think you are going to win this war, Harry, because I don’t. You aren’t nearly as strong as the Dark Lord. He is the most powerful living wizard, and in the end, he is the one who is going to come out victorious. He will rule, and you will end up dead, and so will your friends and followers. My life is more important than yours; I won’t sacrifice myself for you.”

Harry remained impassive although his jaw was clenching and his emerald green orbs had gone from glacial to fiery.

“Who put all of this into your head?”

“What?”

“You have never been the sharpest bloke. Seamus and you are easily influenced, we have all known that for years. You have a repeated history of changing your mind when it came to supporting me, and it was always based on what others told you. So who convinced you to switch sides?”

“She said you are mad, disturbed, and dangerous, even more so than the Dark Lord, and that I needn’t die for you.”

“Who?” Hermione found herself asking him.

“Me Mam.” He proclaimed pompously.

“Is that it then? You betrayed the friends you have had for almost 8 years all because your Mum told you to?” Harry inquired, his tone biting and teasing.

Seamus did something between a laugh and a snort.

“I’m not that thick. I didn’t need that much persuading. You know, I never really minded Hermione, actually thought of trying to have a go at her a few times, and I always considered Ron here a good mate, but you, Harry, I never liked you.”

“Is that so?”

“You are so fucking arrogant and self-involved. It was always ‘poor me, I’m the savior of the wizarding world and all I can do is feel sorry for myself and bitch and moan about it. Wait, I am the youngest seeker at Hogwart’s in a century, and I am so brilliant at it. I can talk to snakes and produce a Patronus at 13.’ Get over yourself, you selfish bastard, I know I did. When the Dark Lord kills your pitiful arse he’ll be doing everyone a favor, and I can’t wait until that day comes.”

“You’re a right fucking plonker, and so is your twat of a Mum.” Harry snarled as he reared his arm back and punched Seamus once again, hitting him on the side of his head and rendering him unconscious. Malfoy stepped back, releasing his grip on Seamus’s shoulder and watched with a satisfied smirk as he fell to the floor.

“Malfoy, when I told you that you were the king of the Mama’s boys, I was wrong; he is.” said Ron in awe.

“Pillock.” Harry said as he massaged his hand and kicked Seamus’s limp foot.

“He did make a good point about Potter though.” Malfoy added.

“What are we going to do with him?” Hermione asked, looking down upon their former friend with a mixture of resentment and despondency.

“Hermione, I want you to obliviate him.” Harry stated firmly

Completely taken aback by his request, Hermione lifted her head and gazed at Harry, who was looking at her somberly. She had never performed a Memory Charm, having only been taught the correct wand movement and mindset by Moody. To say she felt nervous at the thought of it would be an understatement. It was the expression on his face, one of pure faith in her abilities, and his imploring dark green eyes, that had Hermione whispering “Okay.”

“I want him to remember nothing except for the fact that he is a follower of Voldemort.”

“Alright.” She replied softy.

Withdrawing her wand, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the one thought she would allow back into her head. She needed him to forget everything except that one aspect of his life, that one part he would regret until he took his last breath. She had to deprive him of all essential knowledge and recognition, leaving him only aware of what he was; a Death Eater.

Hermione opened her eyes and pointed her wand at Seamus, who was still comatose and unmoving.

“Obliviate!” she shouted as she flicked her wrist.

A flash of light lashed out of the end of the piece of powerful wood and struck Seamus, hitting his body and causing it to twitch upon impact. She had no doubt that she had succeeded in erasing his memory, because not only was she confident in her competence, but if it had gone wrong, her wand would have backfired, and she would be the one with no recollection of who she was. Since she seemed to have no memory loss, Hermione was certain that she had pulled it off without a hitch.

“He’ll be out for a while longer.” Hermione told Harry, lowering her wand and replacing it in her pocket.

Toeing Seamus with his boot, and satisfied that he was indeed still out cold, Harry stepped away and turned to his best mate.

“Ron, go floo Dumbledore and tell him we need his assistance straight away.”

Ron nodded and left the drawing room speedily while Hermione sighed heavily. For the first time in months, she felt her purpose was more than just researching and taking part in the Great Horcrux Destruction. She had finally been able to utilize her training again, to turn off her emotions and rely on gut instinct; she had been hard, cold, and unforgiving. She was oddly proud of herself. She had been away from it for so long, guarded by Harry and Ron, and now that she had jumped right back into it, she realized that she was more ready for battle than she had ever been. Sure, it took her a moment to get her bearings and get into the necessary mind set, but she followed through and was tenacious and confident. She even executed a spell she had only learned in theory, and it couldn’t have gone any better. Bully for her!

As though he had heard her thoughts, Harry glanced at her and smiled.

“You did well, Hermione.”

“I know.” She said boldly as she lifted her chin smugly.

“I am proud of you.”

“You should be.”

Harry’s grin widened at her extremely rare self-righteousness. Hermione relished it, because she knew he was not going to fancy what she had to say next.

“I am going on missions again.” She told him.

The smile vanished and his face became stony and serious.

“No, you aren’t.” he replied stubbornly.

“Yes, I am, Harry.”

He let out a loud exasperated breath and Hermione quickly glanced at Malfoy, who was now sitting in a chair comfortably, watching her and Harry silently, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Leave to the bloody prat to be entertained by the impending argument with her best friend.

“Hermione, we all agreed…”

“Yes, well,” she interrupted as the familiar irritation she had been experiencing off and on all day returned; “I’ve changed my mind. I am tired of being confined to this house, doing nothing but research. I have been training harder than ever, working everyday to prepare myself for whatever may arise. We both know I am ready.”

Harry started to open his mouth, probably to protest and deny her once more, but closed it instantly when Ron reentered the room with Dumbledore behind him.

“Do I want to know what happened here?” the old man asked, not caring to hide the humor in his voice, as he surveyed the knocked out and bleeding Seamus resting next to the over turned chair and the empty vial that held the Veritaserum.

“Seamus was the informant and he confessed. Hermione oblivated him, and the only thing he will recall is that he is a Death Eater.” Was all Harry revealed

“I understand.” Dumbledore replied meaningfully. “And why may I ask did you need my assistance?”

“Could you please escort him to Azkaban, Professor? He somehow swallowed a whole bottle of Veritaserum, so I am sure he will have no problem telling the guards why he is there.”

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, his blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

“Certainly, Harry.”

Hermione moved aside as Dumbledore swept past her, bent down and held Seamus’s wrist in his hand, and disapparated with a loud pop. None of them spoke; they just stared at the now empty spot on the floor. Hermione couldn’t help but keep going over in her head everything that had occurred over the past hour and how it left the question of “What now?” floating in the air above them.

“Remind me to never call Hermione a bitch.” Ron announced to no one in particular, successfully breaking the heavy silence.

Hermione laughed lightly, as did Harry, and Malfoy rolled his eyes as he rose from the chair he had been sitting in.

“I swear to Merlin you are the biggest bloody lot of girl’s blouse’s I have ever set seen, you included, Granger. Fortunately, I am too hungry to take the piss out of you ponces right now. Feel free to carry on with your poofta love fest without me.”

Malfoy strode across the room and out the door, his descending footsteps fading as he unmistakably made his way to the kitchen to pick at whatever had been left of Mrs. Weasley’s snacks. At the thought of food, Hermione’s stomach grumbled, and it wasn’t until that moment that she remembered she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“You boys hungry?” she asked, gazing between the two of them.

“Starving.” Ron said before leaving the room and tracing Malfoy’s steps.

“Harry?” she inquired.

He merely nodded and looked at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Are we going to finish our argument, because I know that is what it going to end up being?” he asked warily.

“Later. I need sustenance if I am going to have yet another row with you.” She answered, only half-serious.

She was hoping that Harry would see things her way, understand that she could no longer be happy doing nothing other than fact-finding and such. She had proved herself today, showed him that she could do it. There was nothing he could do or say that would convince her otherwise. She knew he presumed differently and she could practically see the wheels spinning in his head as they wordlessly walked down the stairs together. He was deep in thought, and if he hadn’t already, he was well on his way to devising a plan. When she saw the secretive smile that played on his lips as they entered the kitchen, she didn’t even want to guess with what he had come up with. Wait, what was she thinking? Harry was her friend; he wouldn’t do anything to go against her wishes. She was just being paranoid and silly as a result of her hunger.

Apparently, he had been thinking of something, and it must have been important, because he stopped dead in his tracks and didn’t follow Hermione into the room. She stared at him curiously.

“I’ll be right back.” He said as he turned around and raced back up the stairs rapidly.

Hermione shrugged and wandered to the table where the food had been laid out; disregarding the idea that Harry had something up his sleeve. Ron was shoveling huge forkfuls of food into his mouth while Malfoy watched him disapprovingly, an expression of pure disgust on his face and the food on his plate untouched.

“For fuck’s sake, Weasley, I know you grew up dirt poor and food is a precious commodity to you people, but you are going to end up inhaling your meal one of these days and asphyxiating. You have to chew your food, man.”

“Apshyx-i-what?” Ron mumbled although his mouth was full of half-masticated steak and kidney pie.

“Choke, you fucking tosser, you will choke! And as much as I don’t care, I really don’t want my dinner ruined by your awfully horrendous and avoidable, although bloody entertaining, death.”

Laughing at the exchange, Hermione sat down next to Ron, grabbed a blueberry scone, and poured herself a cup of pumpkin juice. When she had finished her last delectable bite and refreshing sip and reached across the table to retrieve a pumpkin pasty, she heard the front door upstairs open and close. She thought nothing of it until Harry came bounding back down the stairs and into the kitchen, smiling lopsidedly as his green eyes glittered vivaciously.

“Oi, I have an announcement.” He said happily.

Ron set down his fork and Malfoy ceased taunting Ron for his atrocious and ignorant eating habits to join Hermione in looking at Harry impertinently. He stared back at Hermione, obviously pleased with himself, and smiled at her as if she should be as well.

“Get on with it, Potter; I haven’t finished ridiculing Weasley yet.” Malfoy demanded.

“We have a new Order member to make up for the one we lost today.”

“Really? Who?” Hermione asked, only hoping that whoever it may be would prove to be more trustworthy and courageous than his predecessor.

“Hello, pet.”

Hermione had last heard the familiar voice in a 6th floor corridor more than 8 months ago. When he came down the stairs behind Harry and stepped into the room, wickedly smiling and gazing straight at her, all the irritation and anger she had managed to keep at bay the whole day finally overflowed and all she could see was red. Red and Blaise Zabini.


* * * * *

A/N~ Muhahaha, I know I am evil for leaving it at a cliffie, but I just had to in order to keep you coming back.

And so, I promised you I would leave some hints about the next chapters to be posted. Hermione has had enough of Harry, and she does something about it. The boys bond...sort of. Draco has some very tough times ahead, which impacts his and Hermione's relationship hugely. And of course there will be humor, angst, and lots of smut! And they shouldn't take nearly as long to post as this chapter. Yay!!

For those of you who haven't given up on me, please reivew, it would make me extremely happy. I love all my readers to peices!

Oh yes, and if you want to know when I update by e-mail, I will be more than glad to do it, but you must make sure to actually give me your e-mail address. Make sure it isn't hidden! If it is, either leave it in a review or go to your control panel and make sure the "prevent anon. reviews" box is unchecked. If I don't know your address then I can't let you know when a new chapter is up.

Roberta