When Hermione regained consciousness, she noticed that she was extremely cold and her head ached furiously. She also soon realized that she was lying in a dimly lit space, on a rough and uneven stone floor, in nothing but her simple bra and knickers. She checked herself over quickly, but although her arm, abdomen, and neck were horribly scarred, none of those marks were new. Hell, they were practically even old friends after all of these years! Despite her state of undress, though, she did not seem to be harmed.

Therefore, she did not start to panic until she realized that not only was her clothing gone, but so was her wand. Whoever had attacked her and dumped her in this place…wherever it was…must have taken that, too. That was bad…very bad. That meant she could not apparate out to safety or perform her best defensive spells. Nevertheless, she felt reassured when she remembered that she could still use her other magical skill. With that thought, she smirked slightly as she thought of Sirius, and she suddenly felt more confident in her ability to escape this situation…if she went about it carefully. Before she could finish that thought, however, she heard a groan from the other side of the room? cell? dungeon? cave? She had no idea where she was. It would be best if she could figure that out before she put her tentative plan into motion. Until then, however, she rose unsteadily to her feet and went towards the sound to see if she could help.

The first thing that she noticed about the large, dark-skinned man that she found on the other side of the small room was that he was apparently the same mysterious bloke from the alleyway…and that he was in his underwear, as well. She guessed that they had both been stripped to search for any weapons that they might have been carrying. She did not know about the man, but all she had on her at the time was her wand and her shrunken bag that she kept in its usual secret pocket. If she was lucky, then her captors would not know what the first item was…and hopefully they would never find the second one. Even if they did, she was confident that the protective spells that she had placed on it would prevent them from being able to enlarge it or open it.

The next thing she could not help but to notice about the man as she proceeded to check him over for injuries was that he was quite fit. He was all lean with sinewy muscle. Plus, as she glanced down, she flushed when she realized that his snug boxer briefs had a difficult time doing their job properly - even while he was unconscious. She could not even imagine what it might be like when he was awake and actually…interested. Hermione tore her eyes away from the sight and berated herself for such inappropriate thoughts about a complete stranger as she finished her quick physical examination. She was pleased, though, to note that he did not seem to have any fresh injuries, either. There was plenty of evidence of old ones, however…not the least of which were the scarred bullet wounds scattered over his torso and whatever trauma that had destroyed his poor eye. In fact, the term "through Hell and back" sprang instantly to her mind as she thought about what he must have gone through to be so marked. Consequently, she could not help but to wonder just who this man was…and why they had ended up in this situation.

At least she knew now why he had kept his face hidden when they met, and she was glad that it was not for any nefarious purpose. After all, it must have been easily recognizable – especially if one knew what to look for. However, she also understood that despite his rough exterior, he must have been a good guy at heart because he had come into that alley in order to try and help her when he heard her arguing with Ron. She even understood why he had gotten upset with her at the end. After all, there was no way he could have known that she was a witch…or that she could easily defend herself against Ron's drunken arse by sending stinging hexes at his…equipment…until he gave up badgering her to take him back and finally apparated away from the dead-end alley in a huff…and a shriek! However, those thoughts were all pushed aside as the man on the ground groaned again and started to wake up.


Fury opened his good eye. Besides the fact that his head hurt like all kinds of hell and damnation, he immediately noticed the scantily clad woman bent over his equally undressed body and his eye widened in surprise. Fortunately, no other personal impulses were immediately triggered by their…suggestive…position. That was probably only because it was too hard to concentrate on anything but the pain…and how goddamn cold it was in this…whatever the hell this place was.

"Can you sit up?" the woman asked him gently. "It will help to clear your head. I woke up with a doozy of a headache, too, and I am pretty sure that it was an aftereffect of whatever kind of gas they used on us."

Fury focused on her and finally registered her as the lightweight from the alley…and his pain was repressed by the sudden guilt he felt for not preventing her capture in the first place - especially since it was obvious that it had been him they were after…not her. However, once they had deployed that gas, neither of them had stood a chance at fighting back. In fact, he thought that the little white girl must be scared to death from the experience. Therefore, he met her eyes on purpose to…what? Reassure her? Hell, he didn't know what he was trying to accomplish…but he noticed that she did not even flinch as she met his gaze – even with his uncovered horror of an eye. In fact, her own eyes told her story. She had apparently seen some shit, too – so much so that being gassed and thrown, practically naked, into a freezing ass cell with a big damn disfigured stranger did not terrify her completely.

At that point, he allowed his eyes to examine the rest of her…and he realized that her body told its own story, as well. Considering that it had been a long while since a woman had been in his life, and that he was not completely blind; he immediately noticed that she had an attractive womanly figure, with curves in all the right places. However, he also realized that it could have been easy to overlook some of those fine details because of all of the scars that took precedence on her otherwise creamy skin: knife marks on her neck, smaller scattered scars across her shoulders, big ass purple slash across her abdomen (What the hell could have caused that?), and the word carved into her arm. Mudbloodwhat does that even mean and what kind of sickass son of a bitch would do something like that to a lovely young woman?

"Hey! My eyes are up here, you know!" the woman said with a slight snicker at his obvious curiosity about her scars and his eye snapped back up to meet hers in surprise that she could still find humor in this situation. Suddenly, that confidence that he had seen…and appreciated…in the alleyway made a lot more sense. He was grateful to not have a weak and weeping woman on his hands, but…who…what…exactly did he have?

The residual headache pain from the gas had receded by this time, but the goddamn cold had crept in under his skin and he had started to shiver. Sitting on the floor did not help, so Fury stood up and cursed as his cold stiff joints protested the movement. He knew that he was not as young as he used to be, but to ache like that was just pure bullshit. He started to pace around the room to kickstart his blood flow as well as to check out their prison and see what they had to work with.

The answer was nothing. There was a heavy metal door that must have been firmly locked or barred from the outside because it would not budge, not even an inch, from their side. The only other feature was one tiny hole close to the top of the high old arched stone ceiling that let in a small amount of light. There was absolutely nothing else in that cold small space but him and the woman: no windows, no furniture, no loose stones, no supplies…nothing. Apparently, he was just going to have to make do with his fists and what was between his ears…and whatever help the woman could provide…if either of them were going to survive.

Fortunately, he thought he understood exactly what was happening here with the deprivation, isolation, semi-nudity, and the cold. The two of them were obviously being softened up for interrogation. In fact, so far it was practically step-by-step textbook procedure for those predictable bastards. He suspected that since they were not being more creative with their captives…not yet, at least…that it meant the two of them were dealing with amateurs, benchwarmers, and the leftover dregs of the agency that had caused him so much grief over the span of his life and career.

"Are you ready to tell me now what is going on…and what happened out there?" her quiet voice broke through his thoughts as he finished his quick survey of their prison. "Who were those people?"

He turned around to level his eye at her. She had stood also and was attempting to rub some warmth and feeling back into her bare arms and legs. He tried not to stare at the unexpectedly attractive sight, so he focused on what he should tell her, instead. Since he did not know who she was, he wondered how much she knew about their captors. Therefore, he said only one word while he watched her closely to see if she reacted.

"Hydra," he growled.

Hermione's mind latched onto the word, as she thought about what she knew. "Hydra – mythological Greek monster fought by Hercules – cut off one head and two would grow back. What about it?"

Fury studied her carefully before he decided that she really did not know about the group that had toppled his life's work. He shook his head as he explained, "Not that monster…even if there are plenty of stupid ass human monsters who are a part of it. Hydra is the name of a not-so-secret organization with ties to an ancient alien cult, as well as the goddamn Nazi regime, and the goal of its leaders has always been world domination. They also have absolutely no problems with destroying anyone who gets in their way."

"So…they are basically a group of muggle Death Eaters with the kinds of toys that I saw in that alley? Lovely!" The sarcasm dripped like acid from her tongue, but before Fury could question her about the strange comment, she asked him one instead. "What do they want from you, then…and me? Did we somehow get in their way?"

"As for you…well, I am afraid that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Miss…" his voice trailed off as he suddenly realized that he still did not know her name – which seemed quite strange since they were practically naked together.

"Granger…Hermione Granger…and you are?"

"Nick Fury."

"Pleasure," she answered in a clipped tone with that posh little British accent of hers and he felt his lips smirk completely of their own volition. He could not help but to admit that he liked the sass on this girl…and if he was being truthful, her ass wasn't bad, either! Damn, he thought. The cold must be getting to his brain if he was allowing his mind to descend into the gutter already. As if to prove that point, he started to shiver again. He looked over at the Granger woman just in time to see that she trying to control her own cold-induced tremors, as well. He knew then what they had to do, even if would probably be an uncomfortable situation for both of them. They were going to have to huddle together for warmth.