A/N: When I started writing Obscurity in March 2018, I did not have a clear picture for where I wanted this story to go. I just had a dream one night that spawned the idea. Upon re-reading what I had written in preparation to continue the story, I realized there was more that needed to be said. Therefore, it is currently being revised/rewritten (and continued) as of June 2018. Chapters 2 and 3 are being taken down and will be re-posted as they are ready. The events that were previously covered in Chapter 3 will be pushed to a later chapter.

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Harry Potter, obviously.

Obscurity. noun; the state of being unknown, inconspicuous, or unimportant

Hermione Granger idly fingered the delicate golden chain sitting at the base of her neck. Joined to the chain was a singular hoop, approximately one inch in diameter that sat just as the base of her neck. Should one inspect the chain closely it would be apparent that there was no clasp to join the ends of the chain together. It was as if it were fit by magical means, and that is exactly how it ended up sitting demurely at the base of her neck. It had been several months since she had seen him, the wonderful, charming wizard who had placed the chain around her neck several months ago. It was a symbol of his affections, protection, and possession. A contented smile graced her lips at the thought of him as she paused in a darkened corridor to re-read a carefully folded piece of parchment.

My love, I expect to see you at our table at half six on the day of your arrival in London. Don't make me wait a moment longer.

The simple note was written in a messy script in a deep green ink. His notes were never long. They were always direct, never flowery or obscure. The most curious thing about the man who had captured her heart and ravished her body was that she had entirely no idea as to his identity. The simple facts she knew could be counted easily on one hand. He was approximately her age. He worked for the Ministry of Magic in some capacity. He was a widower. He took sugar in his tea. He was well read and frequently engaged her in conversation related to her favorite subject – books.

Tucked in a darkened corner of a side street off winding its way off of Diagon Alley was a nondescript building known only by the name of the potion all entrants were required to consume upon their entrance into the club, Obscurity. It was here, several months before, that Hermione had met the man who had unwittingly swept her off of her feet. The fact that she was unaware of his identity was proving to be somewhat bothersome as she had just spent nearly four months away from him and she thought of him no less than several times each day.

It was Luna who had introduced her to Obscurity the first time, but Hermione found herself going back several nights each week while she was on summer holiday simply to fade into obscurity and relax without the pressures of being Hermione Granger, war hero.

The night she had met her mystery man, she was perched comfortably in a high backed, leather armchair in the corner of the crowded room, idly thumbing through a journal on the latest research in protective charms. Her drink of choice that night was a shimmery crimson concoction which tasted of raspberries, lemon, and something she couldn't quite place. It was when she glanced up from her journal and stared out across the haze of faces that she spotted him. He was tall, slender, and carried himself with a cautious grace and sophistication. Her eyes met his from across the room, at which time she nervously averted her gaze back to the journal she was reading. The air in the crowded room shifted and stilled as he approached, resting his arm on the arm chair immediately across from her. The scent of his cologne filled her senses and she found herself slightly dizzy in his presence. Hermione closed the journal and offered him a small but friendly smile. Even with his features obscured, she was certain he was handsome, even though his features constantly shifted under the effects of the potion.

When he spoke, his voice was a soothing baritone that made Hermione's stomach flutter. "Please excuse the interruption, but I couldn't help but notice the journal you were reading. Have you read the article by Johannes Geldenheit on the six uses for the Fanum Arx charm?"

Hermione nodded, lightly grazing her fingertips over the cover of the journal. "I was especially interested in his research related to its use on magical creatures."

Their conversation related to the research article continued for several minutes before he settled into the chair across from her and introduced himself by his number – 237. The use of a unique number was provided to each guest the first time they entered Obscurity to use in lieu of names for those who wished to remain anonymous. Hermione stumbled, nervously over her number, 94, as he leaned in closer to her, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her wrist.

Perhaps it was due to the effects of the crimson cocktails she had been drinking, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, or simple curiosity about the man in front of her, but Hermione found herself accepting an invitation to withdraw to a more secluded place within the confines of Obscurity within the hour. She would not normally have been so bold, but she felt a curious draw to this man which stirred something sensual deep within her core.

Hermione noted his skin was pale, almost translucent, as he offered her his hand to rise. She tucked her hand safely in his and he led her through a door off to one side, through a maze of corridors until finally stopping in front of an ebony door marked with the number 237 in elegant gold script. Hermione knew at that point he must be at least moderately wealthy as not many patrons were allowed rooms within Obscurity. He passed his wand over the lock and led her inside a large room covered in decadent velvet ebony and emerald wall hangings. On one wall was a stunning tapestry depicting the fall of the dragon Ladon in the garden of the Hesperides. A large, ornate canopy bed was positioned at the center of the room flanked on either side with a dressing table, large mirror, and chest of drawers. A closed door to the right presumably led off to the ensuite.

A pair of arms encircled her from behind and she felt the gentle press of lips against her neck. With an exhale of breath she relaxed against him, feeling oddly at ease with this stranger. Hermione Granger did not typically throw caution to the wind and enter secluded rooms with strange men, but the pull she felt towards this one was unmistakable.

His warm breath caressed her ear as he whispered against it in a deep timbre that sent a shockwave up her spine. "Do you consent?"

Hermione rested her head back against his chest, her mahogany curls spilling over her shoulders. She breathed a soft "I do" before she felt his breath neck again, as he placed an alternating trail of kisses and nips from her collarbone to her hear.

"The safe word is red." He murmured against her flesh, snaking his hands from her waist to rest of her shoulders. He trailed his fingertips over the skin of her exposed shoulders, causing a soft moan to escape from her lips. Slipping his fingertips under the straps of the simple black dress she was wearing, he slipped it off of her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a flutter. His chest pressed against her back as his fingertips slid over her toned stomach before slipping just beneath the waistband of her underwear. A second hand skillfully unclasped and removed her bra, letting it drop to the floor with the same nonchalance as her dress had been discarded.

"Are you ready?" he mused, a smirk barely present on his lips. "Yes", she murmured, lost in the sensation of his touch. As he tweaked her nipple a bit harder the words "yes, Sir" instinctively rolled off of her tongue.

Hermione carefully refolded the parchment and tucked it back into her navy-blue robes, recalling the passions from that first night as she leaned against the wall in the dim corridor. Her breath caught in her throat as she replayed each scene over in her mind. The caress of his hand on her flesh. The sting of the riding crop. The tug of the silken ropes. The feel of his body pressed against hers. The sense of ecstasy and freedom she felt in submission to him.

Following that first passion filled evening, they had met several times over the summer until she was required to return to her position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At times, they simply conversed over cocktails about whatever journal or book Hermione had brought with her whereas others they retreated to the room bearing the number 237 in elegant gold script. All of their interactions were under the veil of the obscurity potion and neither had felt any reason to divulge more than necessary. Their interactions were uninhibited, passionate, devoid of that self-consciousness. Despite their anonymity, they moved as one, conversed intellectually, and were, to put it simply, a good match.

It was towards the end of the summer that he had presented her with the simple chain that now sat at the base of her neck.

"I have something for you, my pet." He said, pressing his lips against her temple. Her curls were flickering between mahogany, ebony, and chestnut as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

Hermione nuzzled her cheek against his touch, watching at the color of his eyes shifted between a stormy gray and a deep indigo, waiting patiently as he presented her with a long, velvet box. Her breath caught in her throat as she opened it, brushing the golden chain with her fingertips. The chain was coiled with a golden hoop at one end. Hermione was unable to find a clasp on the chain and it looked much too small to fit over her head.

"It's stunning. Thank you, so much." Hermione placed her hand against his bare chest and pressed her lips to his.

He placed his hand atop hers, entwining their fingers. "Do you understand the significance, my love?"

Hermione shook her head, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers as his thumb traced small circles against her own.

"By allowing me to place this around your neck, it means you are mine and mine alone. It is something of an agreement… of your fidelity to me and mine to you, my love." He clarified, his lips lovingly pressed to her ear.

Hermione shifted and met his eyes, which had settled back into their customary deep gray hue, with her own. "I want nothing more." She pressed her lips to his, breathing in his intoxicating, all-encompassing scent. "Please…" she whispered, almost desperately.

He retrieved his wand from the table near to bed and floated the necklace into the air. With a flick of his wrist it settled at the base of her neck, one end of the chain joining to the other side of the slender gold hoop as he murmured a binding charm. Hermione lightly touched the small circle at the base of her neck and sighed contentedly. It was in that brief, touching moment that she found herself wondering and wishing what things would be like without the potion that obscured their features from one another.

Hermione heard the clock from the great hall chime as she continued on her way down the corridor. Whispering the password to the statue guarding the passage, she ascended the stairs and knocked against the door to the Headmaster's office.

"Enter," the voice of Minerva McGonagall called from within the room.

Hermione brushed her hands over her navy robes before stepped across the threshold into the room. She noted the portrait of Professor Dumbledore winked at her as she approached the current headmistress while several other portraits offered her friendly smiles.

Hermione approached of the tidy desk behind which Minerva McGonagall was sitting. "You wished to see me, headmistress?"

"Indeed, Ms. Granger. Please have a seat," she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

Hermione pulled the hem of her long navy-blue robes to the side as she moved towards the chair and suddenly found herself falling forward. She threw her arms up defensively with a surprised outcry as a tall gentleman wearing impeccably tailored robes stepped from the shadows and caught her in his arms before she fell. As she regained her composure, Hermione found herself gazing up into a pair of piercing gray eyes.

Professor McGonagall stood quickly, leaning over her desk, her face rife with concern. "Are… are you quite alright, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione carefully extracted herself from the man's embrace, straightening her back and smoothing her robes with her hands. She nodded towards Professor McGonagall seeing the relief wash over the headmistress' face. She drew a breath and turned to face the man who had saved her from a rather nasty fall. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for saving me from a great embarrassment." Hermione smiled at Draco Malfoy politely, taking a moment to study his features.

He was smartly dressed in impeccably tailored black suit with subtle emerald details. His white-blonde, almost silver, hair was cropped close at the sides and artfully sculpted. He almost looked as though a great renaissance artist had chiseled him from a block of marble but his features had lost some of the hardness and anger that were constantly on display when they attended school together. He wore an indifferent expression but she could see his eyes brimming with curiosity. In one hand, he held his father's silver tipped walking stick, likely concealing his wand within, much the same as his father.

Hermione's body involuntarily tensed as the realization that Draco Malfoy was standing entirely too close to her and a flood of memories flashed through her mind's eye. Endless taunts of "mudblood". Torture by use of the Cruciatus curse at the hand of his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. His sneering, unkind laughter at the smallest of her embarrassments. The last time she had seen him was when he crossed the courtyard to join his parents during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Of course, Ms. Granger." He stated, politely as he motioned for her to sit. Hermione complied, settling gracefully into the high-backed chair in front of the headmistress' desk without further embarrassment. Draco stood slightly behind the mahogany chair, resting his hand on an ornamental pommel. Hermione caught a whiff of a familiar scent but pushed it to the back of her mind as the headmistress began to speak.

"Mr. Malfoy will be staying at Hogwarts this evening completing research in our library for a project he is working for the Ministry of Magic related to protective, shield, and sanctuary enchantments. I trust you will aid him in locating the materials he requires, Ms. Granger."

Hermione nodded in assent. "Absolutely, Headmistress. I will do what I can to aid Mr. Malfoy in his research." As Hermione shifted in her chair, a cascade of curls slipped behind her back, placing the delicate golden chain around her neck within Draco's visual field.

His eyes flashed with a brief, uncertain glint of recognition before he politely shifted his attention to the headmistress. "Thank you, professor. The Ministry is most appreciative in your efforts to aid us in this research."

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I wish you both a pleasant evening."

With that, Hermione rose from the chair and moved towards the door, her navy-blue robes swishing behind her. She drew a breath and waited for Malfoy to follow her. This was certainly not shaping up to be a pleasant evening of re-shelving books followed by a few hours of silence by the fire as she planned upcoming lessons for the advanced arithmancy course she taught twice a week to a group of seventh year N.E.W.T. students. Instead she would be required to spend time within her own sanctuary with Draco Malfoy. While she thoroughly enjoyed researching new topics, the thought of researching for several hours with Draco Malfoy somewhat turned her stomach. Based on his actions earlier, Hermione languidly wondered if perhaps he was no longer the egotistical prat she knew during school.

Draco's gaze followed Hermione as she rose from the chair and moved across the room. She was a far cry from the scrawny, frizzy haired, rabbit toothed know-it-all he attended Hogwarts with some ten or so years before. The navy-blue robes she wore hugged her womanly curves, her golden skin was dotted with tiny freckles, and her curls were loose and sleek.

It must be a coincidence, he mused to himself.

Draco knew it was now or never. Following his narrow escape from a stint in Azkaban for several years, he had been working hard to reform his family name and make amends with those he and his family had wronged during the time of the Dark Lord's attempted coup. He was a well-respected researcher and charm developer within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He brushed his fingers against Hermione's arm, causing her to spin around and almost fall into his arms once more. Hermione's eyes met his, displaying a fierceness he was not expecting.

Draco held her gaze, his fingertips resting almost possessively at her elbow. "Granger..." he started, dropping the "Ms." still unable to bring himself to call her Hermione, even after all of these years. "I know that I caused you significant distress while we were in school. My views on such things have changed significantly and I would like to offer you my sincerest apology."

Hermione's deep brown eyes softened, offering him a small genuine smile. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "thank you", momentarily dropping her carefully constructed walls.

She drew herself up, inhaling and exhaling intentionally before speaking. "If you'll follow me to the library, Mr. Malfoy, I will help you locate what you need." As she turned to continue down the hallway, Draco caught another glimpse of the golden chain sitting at the base of her neck as it glinted in the candlelight. It was unmistakable, especially since he had that specific necklace commissioned especially for her.

Draco watched her cautiously as they moved through the corridors towards the library being careful not to give himself away. Had he been paying more attention when she had entered the headmaster's study, he would have recognized her form, instantly. Instead, he was admiring some trinket on a shelf when she had entered. Draco had spent hours worshipping her body and he knew every freckle, fold, and dimple. He knew how she carried herself, how her hips swayed when she walked, how her head tossed back and her shoulders moved when she laughed. He also knew how the subtlest of movements or shift of her eyes could carry vast emotions. Though the majority of her features were obscured during their previous encounters, there was no doubt in Draco's mind that his lover was standing before him now, and she was the last person he had expected.