Author's Note! Hello again! I'm jumping right into this one! Unlike Two Halves, this story isn't completely finished, but I have a good head start. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: Touch

There weren't many things that Hermione Granger hated.

Mushrooms were one of them. Maybe it was the texture? Maybe it was because every variety tasted like dirt? She was never able to pinpoint it, and just ended up avoiding the fungi all together.

Another was flying. The young woman supposed she picked that trait up from her parents. Hermione remembers flying to Italy for a family reunion. Her father, Thomas, had run off to the loo immediately and only returned to his seat when the flight attendants threatened to have an air marshal forcibly remove him. Her mother, on the other hand, had swallowed an ambien with her bloody mary and promptly passed out. In her sleep her mother would try to calm her by telling her that LOST was just a television show. Hermione wasn't buying it. She would just stick to apparation, thank you very much.

The one thing Hermione hated most, though, was America. Between the Biggerson's on every block and the Starbucks on every corner the Americans had completely lost their culture. Her gaze drifted from her whiskey and soda to the man openly groping the woman in hot shorts on the dance floor.

Yes, definitely classless. Granted Hermione wasn't in the most elegant bar. It was what the Americans would consider a 'dive.'

Hermione fished her cellphone out of her pocket before scrolling through her contact list. When her eyes landed on his name she groaned before pressing the 'call' button. It was just her luck the Head of the Auror department would make him, her ex, her contact for this job.

The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. "Bloody twit," she cursed as she called back. Finally on the second ring she heard him pick up.

"'Ello?" He asked sleepily. Hermione checked her watch, and grinned evilly when she realized she must have woken him up.

"No sign of them here, Weasley. I'll call back tomorrow," she told him sharply before raising her glass to her lip and taking a sip.

"Wait! Hermione, please talk to me," Ron said quickly. She could hear a shuffle accompanied by an all too female groan.

"Are you seriously trying to talk to me about our failed relationship while you have another woman in your bed? I ought to tell Molly," Hermione bit.

Ronald Weasley had broken up with her only a week prior, because he 'didn't feel a spark.' She gave him a bloody spark. In her rage she had set his favorite armchair on fire. After storming out she had felt better. Then she got to work and found out that she was being sent to America, and that he was to be her only contact.

She fully understood that hunting the rogue Death Eaters was tricky business, but wasn't she allowed a single break? Hermione had stormed into her boss's office and pleaded with him to let Harry be her liaison, but he had refused. Apparently Harry was needed elsewhere.

"I just want you to understand that I still care about you," he whispered.

"Let's get one thing straight, Ronald; if I didn't have to work with you I would not be calling. Frankly I would be happy if I never saw you again." Every word rolled off her tongue like a curse. Without giving him time to reply she hung up and slammed her phone on the counter.

Hermione let out an angry shriek before downing her drink and signaling the bartender to keep them coming.

Maybe she was being too hard on him. It wasn't that she didn't agree, per say. She just didn't appreciate the way he tossed their relationship to the side like it was garbage. It wasn't perfect, but she was raised to at least try to fix things.

After the battle of Hogwarts Hermione had refused to jump into a relationship. She frequently thought that things might have ended differently if she had. Ever the student, Hermione had returned to finish her seventh year and sit her N.E.W.T.S. Ron had begged her then to finally settle down, but she still didn't feel ready.

Hermione then traveled to Australia and sought out her parents. It wasn't easy, but six months later she had found Monika and Wendell Wilkins and reversed the memory charms she had put on them two years previously. Anne and Thomas had been furious. Hermione promised to stay as long as they needed to forgive her.

It had taken another year before the emotional wounds healed. Hermione finally had her parents back, and was finding it hard to leave them again. It was only after she got a formal letter from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requesting she complete the Auror program that she said her goodbyes, promising to visit often.

Still Ron waited for her. She should have seen then that he was waiting out of obligation. In her youth, however, Hermione had found it flattering. She promised him that after her program that they would go steady. He had smiled and kissed her. Hermione didn't feel passion, but figured that would come.

They went out officially as a couple on her twenty-first birthday. It was a shame that she spent the night of their first date with her head in a toilet bowl. Ron had mumbled comforting words as she emptied her stomach.

Their romance moved steadily after that. Though after two years she should have realized that they had plateaued. However she pushed on, determined to make it work.

Then two more years passed and he ended it. Maybe that's why she was so furious with him. She should have been the one to finish it. She had been bored long before he was.

Hermione was shocked out of her angry musings by the sight of the bartender dropping off another whisky and soda. Hermione tried to smile, but it came off as a sneer; effectively scaring the bartender off.

She felt so frustrated, with everything. With her job and Ron. Not to mention her nonexistent sex life. Ginny joked that Hermione really needed to get poked, if only to get her mind off Ron.

Hermione tilted her head. Maybe her friend was right. Her eyes glanced down. She was wearing skinny jeans and her favorite T-shirt with a leather jacket. It could be worst. Her gaze lifted and she immediately locked eyes with a man sitting on the opposite side of the U-shaped bar.

He must have seen something in her eyes; her desperation, probably. With a smirk he grabbed his beer and sauntered over to her. Hermione took the time to look him over.

The first thing he noticed was that he was tall. Nearly Fred and George's height. Second was the way he carried himself. He walked with purpose and a confidence she wished she possessed. Third was the fact that without a doubt he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.

Hermione smiled at him. She needed to let off steam, and he would definitely fit the bill. He finally made it to her and sat himself confidently in the seat next to her.

"It looks like something really ruffled your feathers," he drawled lazily as he lifted his beer to his lips.

Hermione found herself focusing on his mouth. He was prettier up close. "Unfortunately it wasn't in the good way," she replied with a smirk of her own. Many of her peers would be shocked to see the former bucktoothed know-it-all being so forward. Apparently being dumped changes that.

The man turned in his stool and faced her. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see a dusting of stubble cover his jaw. "I'm Dean," he said as he extended a hand.

Hermione placed hers in his and gave it a shake. "Hermione. So what brings you here, Dean?"

Dean turned and focused his gaze ahead of him. His aloofness should have been a turn off, but it had quite the opposite effect. Turns out it was easier to flirt when you weren't really flirting. "I'm here for work. What about you?"

"Same," Hermione said with a shrug. She watched as Dean smirked out of the corner of his eye.

"So what do you do, Hermione?" he asked. Hermione felt him shift his stool a bit closer.

Hermione made sure to lean forward, brushing her hand against his arm before replying, "I catch the bad guys."

Dean inclined his head. "Well, I'll be. Looks like were in the same line of work," he said cockily before whipping out an FBI badge.

She reached out and plucked the badge from his hands. Hermione read 'Agent Dean Ehart' before flipping it closed and handing it back. In that instant she felt like her bravado was gone. Apparently she only got a few moments of being suave before her insecurities returned. The brunette was half tempted to pay for her drinks and admit defeat.

"So do you want to have your feathers ruffled in a good way?" Dean blurted out with another smirk.

Hermione couldn't help the look of incredulity that crossed her face. Sure, she was interested in possibly having a tiff with the handsome FBI agent, but wasn't he supposed to be a little more subtle?

Dean finished his beer and stuffed his badge back into his jacket pocket. Without speaking he stood and pulled out a twenty dollar bill before placing it on the bar. He turned towards the still silent woman and held out a hand.

She gave him another once over. Is this something she wanted to do? It only took one appreciative look from him before she had her answer. With a dazzling smile she downed the rest of her drink and let him lead her out of the bar.

His hand ensnared her waist as he moved through the crowd. On their way they passed a man who was looking at them with an open mouth. Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure you can find another room tonight, Sammy," was all he said before continuing on his way to the parking lot.

"You know him?" Hermione found herself ask.

"My partner," Dean said with a smirk before letting his hand fall to her hip.

Hermione found herself standing in front of an old car. It was black, and shiny; the kind of car a man would dream of having. She opened her mouth to ask the man with her if it was his but was stopped by the feeling of him placing an open mouthed kiss on her neck. She couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that passed her lips.

She had missed this. Her and Ron's sex life had been notably absent before the breakup. She felt as Dean traveled his hands up her sides and landing on her shoulders. With more care than she would have expected he spun her and pinned her to the side of the car.

He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. They fought for dominance, a battle he won in the end. Hermione had fisted his leather jacket in his hand, and pulled him close.

She could hear as he pulled his keys out of a pocket and unlock the car. Hermione didn't bother to walk around to the passenger side. Instead she opened the driver side door and slid along the bench. Dean was quick to follow, seemingly unwilling to break the kiss.

With a near feral growl he pulled away, jammed the keys into the ignition and turned them. The car came to life with a roar, and the sound of squealing tires.

The drive to the shabby motel was agonizing. Dean made the short drive in record time and nearly crashed into a parking spot. The keys were barely out of the dash before he was pulling Hermione from the car and into the motel room.

As soon as the door was closed behind them he began to strip her of her clothes. The jacket was first. He looked at it with an approving smile before tossing it over a shabby chair. He made quick work of her T-shirt and bra. Hermione yelped when she felt his muscular hands grip her thighs and lift her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist as he slammed her against the nearest wall.

With shaking hands Hermione pushed his jacket form his shoulders. She reached between their bodies and grasped the hem of his shirt. He pulled away from her a fraction, giving her just enough room to rip the cotton over his head. She spotted a tattoo just over his heart. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Before she had any more chance to speculate she felt him remove her from the wall. It took two steps before they reached the bed. His lips were on her neck before he made a slow slide down her body. Hermione didn't have time to cover the scar on her arm, but he didn't seem to notice.

Dean locked eyes with her as he passed her center and continued to her boot clad feet. All too slowly he unzipped one, before slipping it off her foot. He seemed keen on torturing her.

"Well? I don't want to wait all night," she chastised in a breathy voice. Dean smirked before ripping the remaining boot off her foot and throwing it across the room. Hermione grinned when she heard it make contact. By the crash and dimming light she assumed it hit a lamp.

He crawled back up the mattress and grabbed the waist of her jeans. With one quick motion he pulled them down and off her body completely. Without any warning his mouth descended on the apex of her thighs. Hermione let out a moan.

Too soon he stopped and slid up the rest of the way to her face. His teeth went to her neck while her hands glided down his bare stomach to his belt. Once it had been removed Dean helped in kicking of the jeans.

Hermione let out a gasp when she felt him move into her. A noise somewhere between a groan and a roar seemed to vibrate from his chest.

He seemed to know just what spots to touch inside a woman's body. In no time he had had on the edge, only to pull away and change positions.

Hermione had never felt anything like this. She realized just how much she was missing during her years with Ron.

With a huff of annoyance at herself she took control. Effortlessly she rolled them over, and straddled him. Dean's large hands went immediately to her hips.

It didn't take long for Dean to miss the feeling of her lips. Without dislodging Hermione he leaned up and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips found hers and they continued their battle.

Hermione groaned at the new sensation. She felt the pressure building again and could tell from Dean's hurried movements that he was near his end as well. One final time he flipped them over and moved expertly on top of her.

She felt her breath leave her body in heavy pants before she felt herself come apart. Dean followed suit before collapsing on top of her.

He rolled over so he was propped up on one elbow. "Are your feathers effectively ruffled now?" he asked with a lazy, but blissful, smirk.

Hermione pooling the rest of her confidence mimicked his position. "Almost. I think I might need a round two to be sure."

Dean's gaze fell down her body. In their frenzy they hadn't even made it under the covers. She was completely bare to him. With a single finger he pushed on her shoulder until she was again lying flat on her back. "I can handle that," he whispered hoarsely before climbing on top of her once more. Maybe America isn't so bad after all, was her final thought before completely giving over to her passion.