Chapter 2

She didn't quite remember how she made it home but when Hermione stumbled through the door of her West End flat she slammed the door behind her and immediately staggered through the living room towards the bathroom, stripping off her wet clothes along the way. She passed the large clock on the kitchen wall and absentmindedly glanced up at it. She had lost all perception of time and she was surprised to see it was after eleven o'clock.

Her body ached in a way she had never felt it ache before, not even after the intensity of the Final Battle. She felt something in places she didn't know she could feel them and when she reached the bathroom and eagerly switched on the hot shower, a moan escaped her when she stepped under the hot flow of water.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as the water gently rained down on her, rinsing away the sensation of magic lingering across her skin. She had never felt something so strongly before as when she had walked into that bar. The magic had been almost seductive, luring her in without her really realising it. Like a quiet calling, a whisper from the dark, summoning her to come closer. She swallowed hard, still tasting the sweet flavour of the mead on her lips.

"Mione?!"

Her eyes snapped open when she heard Ron's voice. Instantly the warm, smothering feeling she had experienced earlier that night was gone.

"Mione, you home? Why are your wet clothes all over the floor?!"

"Shit," she muttered under her breath and quickly turned the shower off.

The painful throbbing between her legs continued and she grabbed a towel to quickly cover herself up. With it wrapped around her body and her hair still wet she walked out of the bathroom and found Ron in the kitchen. He had just put her wet clothes in the washing machine but looked up when he heard her come in. From the way his eyes narrowed Hermione suspected she was about to receive the third degree.

"Where have you been? Why are your clothes wet?"

"Gees, why would they be wet?" Hermione answered sharply. "In case you haven't noticed, it's raining!"

"When did you get home?" he wanted to know as he switched on the washing machine.

"About fifteen minutes ago."

He looked up. "I thought you were just meeting Andy for coffee?"

"I was but on my way home I ran into a couple of girls from the department and we went for a drink in town." She could tell he was about to ask her where she went but she cut him off. "Some place in Muggle London. None of us fancied being surrounded by wizards for once. All Muggleborns, remember?"

The lie rolled off her tongue with such ease that she even surprised herself. She had never been the type to lie, not even if it was in her own defence, but tonight was different. She didn't feel a shred of guilt and made eye-contact, looking straight into her husband's green eyes. What she saw didn't strike her the same way a set of charcoal eyes had done earlier that night. The memory of them once again set her skin on fire and she felt the warm sensation creep along her leg where the stranger had touched her.

"Anyway, where did you go?" She tried not to sound condescending. "Weren't you supposed to be home early today?"

"Not like you would have noticed," he answered and she ignored the jibe. If she jumped at his throat they would only end up with another argument. "I met up with Harry, Seamus and Dean."

"Cauldron?" she asked and he nodded. She should have known. It was always the Leaky Cauldron. She watched how he opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. She sighed. "I'm going to bed." She waited but he didn't respond. She had to ask, just for good measure, but she already knew the answer. "You coming?"

"In a bit," he answered without looking at her.

"Don't be too long."

She didn't mean it and turned around before leaving the kitchen. She walked through the corridor to the larger of the two bedrooms and pushed against the door. Her fingers searched the wall for the light switch and once she flicked it the room bathed in a sea of golden light. Her eyes were drawn to the large windows overlooking the city and she crossed the room to draw the curtains. For a few seconds she longingly gazed out at the world beyond the glass and heaved a sigh before withdrawing the scenery from sight. The heavy black curtains slid effortlessly into place and she turned around to the bed.

Hermione dropped her towel and walked around to her side naked before choosing a pair of knickers and pyjama trousers from her drawer followed by a simple vest top. She turned off the light before climbing into bed and inhaled the comforting sent of freshly washed sheets. She rolled onto her back, folded her hands behind her head and stared up into the darkness. As she blinked she saw the flash of the silver mask before her eyes and her breath hitched. Almost instantly the throbbing returned and Hermione bit down on her tongue so hard she could taste blood.

Suddenly she was back in the bar with its sultry, intoxicating atmosphere. Candle light created shadows on the walls she couldn't identify and the music played loudly, pounding in her ears. Her eyes fell shut and she saw the dark eyes behind the mask again, staring up at her with the same intensity they had done in the bar. The desire grew and settled in her chest, leaving her heart racing and her head spinning. When her slender fingers crept across her stomach towards the waistband of her trousers, she knew there was no way back.

She imagined the hand that had rested on her knee for just a few seconds slowly travelling upwards towards her thigh before slipping between her legs, cupping her core insistently. Everything about their touch screamed how much she was wanted, desired. She felt their hands slide along the length of her legs, slowly peeling down her jeans and knickers, revealing just how much a single touch had done to her.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened across her skin as she touched herself. Skilled fingers worked the little button between her thighs with precision, drawing small circles as well as pressing down. Her clothes had already been banished to the floor and the soft cotton of the sheets rubbed against her hardened nipples when her back arched off the bed. The back of her throat had become dry and she bit back the moans of lust and desire, forcing herself to stay as quiet as she possibly could. She writhed and shuddered as the first waves of her orgasm began to rip through her.

Hermione rode out her orgasm, her heart hammering in her chest and blood rushing through her veins. When she finally regained some control over her limbs she slowly rolled onto her side and pulled the sheets around her still trembling body. A faint smile lingered on her lips as she fell into the realm of dreams.

She never heard Ron come to bed.

~()~

The next day was a blur. Hermione woke up before Ron did, took a shower and got dressed. She was already on her second cup of coffee by the time he walked into the kitchen. She gave him a chaste kiss good morning before mumbling something about an important meeting. Before he even had a chance to reply back to her she was already out of the door.

There was more rain in the air, she could smell it. The skies were as grey as they had been the day before and as she reached the nearest tube station, the heavens opened once again. Hermione made her way down the stairs, joining the endless flow of commuters making their way into the heart of the city. She knew it was just as easy to just Apparate into the Ministry but she liked the Muggle way of travel. Every other aspect of her life had been taken over by magic. She didn't want to forget where she came from, how she had grown up. Although Ron thought it useless, Hermione liked living like a Muggle.

She somehow got through her day unscathed although she caught herself several times as her mind began to wander. Not just to what she had done the night before, leaving her body yearning for more, but also to the bar. She didn't even know what the place was called but it kept creeping back into her mind.

It was well after seven o'clock by the time she left the Ministry. Darkness had fallen outside and temperatures had started to drop, indicating that winter was fast approaching. She'd had no lunch and only chewed on a chicken sandwich for her dinner but after three bites she'd thrown it in the bin. She'd been rushed off her feet all day with people wanting something from her left, right and centre. Her day got progressively worse when her assistant reminded her that she had a meeting with some people she'd rather avoid. Narcissa Black had been one of those people.

Hermione had sat across the table from the youngest Black sister with great composure, peering at Narcissa through her eyelashes every few minutes. In the years after the war, Narcissa had divorced Lucius Malfoy and worked her way up in society after her fall from grace. Saving Harry Potter had definitely helped with her reputation and Hermione was still, to this day, surprised that Harry spoke in Narcissa's defence during her hearing. She'd been acquitted, unlike her ex-husband who was serving a life sentence in Azkaban. After that, Narcissa offered her expertise and knowledge on Dark Arts to the Ministry. Her information and skill was invaluable to them and over the last few years Hermione had been part of several meetings with Narcissa, although they never spoke more than a dozen words with each other.

There was something striking about the older witch that left Hermione almost feeling inferior in her presence. She knew very well what Narcissa thought of her. To the aristocratic witch she was still nothing more than a Mudblood. Although times had changed and Narcissa most definitely didn't share her racist views out loud, Hermione knew what the blonde witch thought. This was the woman who had offered her house to Voldemort and although she had defied him in the end, she had waited a very long time to turn her back on him. Hermione was never too sure if she actually really had and although Narcissa was always pleasant to her, sometimes bordering on friendly, Hermione kept her distance.

The meeting with Narcissa Black and several other high profile Ministry people had been the last one of the day and Hermione was glad to finally be leaving the building. She stepped out onto the rainy streets of London and inhaled the scent of rain mixed with car exhaust fumes. Instantly her heart rate quickened and she made her way to the tube station. This had been the one moment of the day she had been looking forward to since arriving at the Ministry earlier that day. As she made her way down the tube station stairs she slowly released the breath she'd been holding. Peak rush hour was over and the trains were a little less crowded this time of night. She even managed to find herself a seat and pretended to read the Evening Standard as the train cut through the dark tunnels towards Kensington.

She left the train with a couple of other people who soon disappeared when she reached the top of the stairs. She stood on the corner of the street, looked around a few times to orientate herself ad then crossed the street. Her senses led her back to the place where she had been the previous night and, when she recognised the candlelight behind the window, her heart leapt up. From where she stood she could finally see the name written across the glass in fine, black letters spelling out the word Imagination.

Hermione smiled to herself before crossing the street. She didn't recognise the man standing outside tonight but he just quickly nodded as she walked past him to begin her descend down the stairs. He didn't ask questions about those who ventured in here at the end of the day, moving through the shadows of the night with their heads bent so no one saw their faces.

The music was louder than the night before and when Hermione stepped through the door she noticed it was more crowded inside too. People, dressed mainly in black, sat and stood around the bar and the seating areas in the corner. Four or five occupied people the dance floor, moving slowly to the alluring beats coming from the speakers. The lights had been turned down low with only candle light illuminating the masked faces. More people wore masks tonight, she noticed, but there were still a handful of visitors who didn't.

"Look who we have here," said a voice behind her and she turned around.

The person behind her wore a stunning silver mask that obscured the right half of his face. It was studded with small, finely cut diamonds and formed a sharp contrast against the sun kissed tones of his skin. Hermione recognised Gregory by his intense green eyes and smiled.

"Hello again."

"You came back."

"I have."

She didn't know what it was about the way he said it. It was almost as if he had expected her to. She searched his face. She had never seen him anywhere else although he was only a few years older than she was. He had to have been at Hogwarts at some point but she didn't remember seeing him.

"What made you come back?" he curiously wanted to know as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her through the crowd towards the bar. People seemed to disperse as he walked by.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. It wasn't exactly the truth but it wasn't a lie either. She knew what had brought her back here, she just didn't know why.

"Like I said," Gregory reminded her and his lips curled up into what could only be described as an almost devious smile. The smile of someone who knew what happened within these shadows. "Here you can be anyone or anything you want to be."

She watched him disappear into the crowd and once he was gone she looked back at the bar. The girl who had served her the previous night was here again and when she saw Hermione she grinned. "The best mead we've got, right?"

"You got it."

Once she had her glass she turned towards the dance floor. Three women and two men were dancing. All wore masks and all were dressed in black. One of the women had long, dark red hair that fell down to her back. The other two women had short cropped dark hair. Their dark jeans clung to their slender bodies and Hermione watched, mesmerized by how their bodies seemed to move in perfect unison.

After a few minutes she picked up her glass from the bar and walked towards the corner of the room where she had sat the night before. Hermione sank down in the comfortable leather chair and placed her feet up on the small table whilst twirling her glass through her fingers. The intoxicating smell of the mead filled her nose. It was the sweetest, most seductive thing she had ever tasted and she knew she wouldn't be able to resist drinking more than just one glass.

"Not the kind of place where I would have expected to find an innocent witch like yourself."

The voice came from the shadows and Hermione sat up with a jolt. Her eyes snapped to her left and she gasped as she watched the shape of a woman appear from the darkness. Clad in a burgundy red dress that cut down deep into her cleavage and her blonde hair cascading down her back, Narcissa Black looked nothing like the stoic, distant woman Hermione had encountered earlier that day. She also noticed Narcissa did not wear a mask, unlike most of the other guests.

Hermione almost dropped her wine glass as her eyes lingered for a moment too long on Narcissa's neckline. She felt her cheeks redden and averted her gaze.

"Miss Black."

"We do not have names here," Narcissa said. The hint of a smile graced her lips. "We have merely faces." Her blue eyes drifted around the crowd, singling out a few who wore masks. "Sometimes we do not even have those. Here we are nothing." Unexpectedly her eyes sought out Hermione's. "Or we are everything."

Hermione didn't get a chance to answer and Narcissa Black had effortlessly disappeared into the darkness once again. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest as she slowly sank back into her chair. She took a large gulp from her mead and felt the alcohol burning down her throat. Gone was the sweetness. Now it tasted like poison. She was about to put the glass down when a movement across the room caught her eye. When she looked up she instantly locked on the figure wearing the silver mask. The length of the room wasn't enough to break their connection. Their eyes found each other.

Hermione stood up and slowly walked her way around the dance floor to the opposite end of the room. More chairs stood around glass tables. Only a few were occupied. Her gaze was transfixed on the spot where she had seen the masked stranger and when she reached the corner of the room she soon found she wasn't alone. A hand found its way up along her arm, slender fingers creeping up past her elbow towards her shoulder. Every feather light touch left behind a sizzling desire.

She couldn't see the strangers face. The mask hid it completely. All she saw were dark eyes, full of fire, reflecting the candle light. The rest of their features went hidden by the silver mask, only leaving the chin and mouth exposed. Hermione's breath hitched when soft fingers reached her collar bone and eventually slipped under her chin. The warm flesh betrayed the touch of a woman.

"I don't know who you are," Hermione breathed as she stepped closer to the woman. Their bodies were almost pressed flush against each other. She felt the swell of the stranger's breasts against her chest.

Dark eyes found Hermione's brown. "Nobody knows who we are."

"Everybody knows who I am."

"Not here, they don't. Here we are nobody. We are shadows, imaginations. We are…" Soft fingers caressed Hermione's cheek. "Everything." She then took Hermione's hand and began leading her deeper into the shadows. When the brunette hesitated she turned around. She sensed the reasons without Hermione needing to speak. "You're afraid."

"I am…"

"Don't be."

"But…"

"Don't be afraid. Just be."

Hermione let go of her fears and allowed the masked stranger to lead her away from the dance floor. The beat still echoed in her ears as she grabbed a firmer hold of the woman's hand. She didn't know who she was or where they were going but for the first time in her life, she truly didn't care.