Warning: some (minor) smut in this chapter.

Hermione woke up in her apartment on the couch in the living room, Crookshanks purring beside her. Why was she sleeping on the couch? She tried to remember how she had gotten there, but couldn't for some reason.

She stood up, feeling a terrible ache in her stomach as she did so. "Ouch," she murmured, opening her robes to look. There was a large bruise covering most of her stomach that looked very recent. A jolt of fear shot through her as she realized that she had no recollection of how she had gotten the injury. She aimed her wand at her stomach and murmured the bruise-reduction spell. In moments, her stomach looked normal except for a slight yellowing place where the bruise had been. "Why aren't I at work?" she exclaimed, looking at the clock. With a loud crack, she disapparated.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, running into his office. "I'm so sorry I'm late—I don't know what happened, but—" She stopped talking as she saw the look on Harry's face. He was looking at her as if she was crazy. "What?" she asked defensively.

"You said you were going home to rest," Harry said slowly, glancing at the clock on the wall. "That was about eight hours ago. Why did you come back?"

Hermione froze, thinking hard. She suddenly remembered having promised Harry that she would go to rest, but why had she needed to rest? "Why would I need to rest?"

Harry stood up quickly. "Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked with concern. "This is one of the reasons that I didn't want you to have a field assignment! Ever since Ron was—"

"Don't you dare bring that up," Hermione cut him off, her voice deadly and eyes blazing. "Watching Ron die was the worst thing that has ever happened to me—yes it still hurts, but Harry, don't you dare use him as a reason for things I do."

Harry knew that he had gone too far. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I went home to rest because I had trouble with one of my contacts," Hermione went on, trying to remember who she had had trouble with. "But who?"

"You honestly don't remember?" Harry asked, looking carefully at her face with concern.

"Of course I remember," she snapped at him, not wanting to admit anything was wrong. "I'm going to my desk. I'll talk to you later."

Hermione didn't wait for Harry to respond to her. She went quickly to her desk, trying to figure out what had happened. She remembered telling Harry that she'd had trouble with one of her contacts, but she had been lying when she told him that. What had she been covering up? Why did she not remember? Unanswered questions swirled through her head, but before she could try to figure out the answers, Gary trotted into view, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Harry's put me on the case with you," he announced sitting casually on the edge of her desk. "Do we have any leads yet?"

Hermione sighed—Harry really didn't trust her to do this on her own, did he? "Not yet," she divulged, handing Gary a copy of the file she had begun. "I've interviewed most of the prisoners that the Hunters have brought in, but so far, I've had no luck."

"Okay…so what's next?" asked Gary, his blue eyes alight with the enthusiasm that was always present with him.

"I guess we should put surveillance on—"

"Granger, this goes to you," a voice interrupted. Hayden Ractor, an Auror about eight years her senior, leaned over her cubicle and tossed a file onto her desk. "Try not to screw it up."

"Sod off," snapped Hermione in reply. Ractor had loathed her ever since she had bested him in a training duel in front of their superiors earlier in the year. Ractor had told anyone who would listen that she'd cheated, but even spreading rumors hadn't been able to save his reputation. He was a tall, thin man with fair skin, large hazel eyes, and ash-blonde hair. He might have been handsome but for the expression of scorn that he focused on nearly all those he met.

Ractor sneered and sat down at his desk, which was right on the other side of Hermione's cubicle.

"That guy is such an ass," Gary said quietly, glaring at the wall separating them from Ractor.

"He's a jealous ass," Hermione corrected, opening the file she'd been given.

A bloody face looked up at her from inside the file. Hermione fought back the urge to gag as she rifled through the pictures inside. They were all shots of a dead body, one that had been beaten and slashed with various curses before slowly bleeding to death. Written in Harry's familiar messy scrawl on a post-it note attached to the cover was the message: "Thought to be a victim of the Hunters. Though we usually get them alive, he was placed there in the same manner as those brought in by them."

Hermione showed the file to Gary, whose nose wrinkled in distaste as he, too, looked at the pictures. Once they had both looked at the photos, they leaned together over the identification part of the file.

Name: Rynell Fynn

Height: 6'1''

Weight: 225 lbs

Age: 30 years

Cause of Death: Exsanguination

Time of Death: 2:00 pm on April 22

Spell Damage: Cruciatus Curse, Stinging Hex, Incendio, Sectumsempra

Handwritten below this was:

Reason given by Hunters for his death were: 'sexual assault, physical assault, murder, using the Unforgivable Curse on multiple occasions.'

"He was killed earlier today," said Gary, dismayed.

Hermione stared at the name on the file. The name of the murdered man looked familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. Where had she heard this name before? She turned to the small, shiny black box on her desk, aimed her wand at it, and said firmly, "Rynell Fynn." The box glowed silver and spat out several pieces of paper with information written neatly on them.

"Did Criminal Info have anything on him?" Gary asked, leaning over her shoulder to read the papers.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, reading much faster than him. "He does have an extensive criminal history, but that doesn't explain…"

"Doesn't explain what?"

"Nothing," she muttered, still racking her brain. Where had she heard his name before?

And interdepartmental memo fluttered through the office and landed on her desk.

Auror Granger,

It has come to our attention that you have requested information about the same criminal twice in one day. Even though one request came from your residence, we would like to direct you to Resource Code 8.9 regarding the policies about paper conservation. Thank you for your compliance.

Dept. Of Conservation

Reading over her shoulder, Gary looked at her in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Just as confused as he was, Hermione replied slowly, "It means that I used Crim Info already once today on Fynn. That violates the Department of Conservation's code 8.9, which basically says that you can't print out information on the same criminal more often than once a week. It's to save paper."

"Wait—I'm confused," Gary admitted. "You knew Fynn was dead before you got the file?"

"No, of course not," she snapped. Gary lowered his eyes, looking crushed. "I'm sorry—I'm just as confused as you are. Maybe it's a mistake on Conservation's part."

Part of her memory was missing, she realized. She remembered going talking to Harry and promising him that she would go home. Then she had been taking a shower, but she remembered nothing after that. Plus, why had she looked up information on Rynell Fynn, a man she had never seen before in her life, hours before he appeared, dead, at the Ministry of Magic?

"So what's our next step towards catching the Hunters?" Gary asked tentatively, clearly trying not to set her off again.

"We'll set up a trap in Knockturn Alley," decided Hermione, pushing away the feeling of déjà vu that came when she mentioned Knockturn Alley. "Put out a news bulletin that Macnair is being released for good behavior. We'll set him loose in Knockturn and tell him that he's to kidnap someone. He'll be watched very carefully so he doesn't actually hurt somebody, but the Hunters are sure to go after him. And when they do…"

"We'll arrest them and find out who their leader is!" finished Gary, smiling brightly.

The two of them spent a few minutes writing the order to have Macnair brought to them, ignoring Ractor when he ran by them to leave the room.

"Hermione, can I see you for a second?" asked Harry, approaching them. Ractor bumped into him on his way out and mumbled his apologies.

Hermione followed Harry back to his office.

"What's your plan?" he asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

Though her eyes narrowed at his mothering, she briefly outlined what she and Gary had been planning.

"That sounds feasible. Along with Gary Saunders, you'll be taking Ractor, Neville, and Shacklebolt," ordered Harry. "I don't want to take the chance of something happening to you. Now, it's late, and you really need to get some rest, so go home. I'll take care of the article in the Daily Prophet as well as the false release order for Macnair."

"Fine," said Hermione, disgruntled about Harry's overprotection. She disapparated from his office without saying goodbye.

Once back in her apartment, she fed Crookshanks and sat down on the sofa to think. It was now fairly evident that her memory had been tampered with. She walked absently to her bookshelf and pulled out a book on Memory. She needed to know if she had been affected with a memory-forgetting spell, potion, or jinx. A counterspell wouldn't be difficult for her to cast, but she had to know the medium of the memory-affecting magic to know which one to use.

Flipping through the book, Hermione came across a page on detecting the presence of a memory altering device on a person. She quickly read through the spell. "Memorius!" she said firmly, aiming her wand at her chest. A silver wisp of cloud flowed around her body before disappearing. After consulting the book, she determined that she had been affected with a potion. Furious at whoever had done this to her, she said carefully, her voice steady, "Finite Memoria Medicamentum!"

A loud whooshing sound filled the room—Crookshanks meowed angrily and fled to the bedroom. Bright golden light swirled in and around Hermione, who closed her eyes tightly against the uncomfortable sensation in her head. It was over in a few seconds, and memories flooded back into her brain. Within a minute, every memory that had been hidden from her was suddenly revealed again.

"Draco Malfoy," she said grimly minutes later, "you're dead."

She took a few moments to arm herself with potions from her stores, and, with a hastily-penned note sent to Harry with her owl, prepared to disapparate. A wave of dizziness swept through her, reminding her suddenly of how very late at night it was. Angry as she was, however, her tiredness would not prevent her from marching to Malfoy Manor that moment.

Once more approaching her potion cabinet, she pulled out a sparking black potion labeled "Invigoration Draught." She downed it in one gulp and sighed as electric tingles of energy raced through her bloodstream, erasing the exhaustion. Invigorated, she disapparated.

Outside the black wrought-iron gates of the ominous-looking Malfoy Manor, she tapped herself on the head with her wand and muttered the Disillusionment Charm. The characteristic coldness trickled through her body. Taking a few breaths to slow her heart and relax her muscles, she slipped between the bars of the gate—her slender body only just fit—and crept towards the Manor itself.

Hermione kept to the shadows as she sprinted from one large bush to the next. She knew from her memories that she had greatly underestimated the Hunters last time, but she wouldn't make that mistake again. She saw two of them sitting guard on the elaborately-carved stone lions that graced the front lawn, but as they were playing Exploding Snap somewhat loudly, she feared no danger from them.

Her note to Harry had simply been an apology that she would be unable to make dinner the next night, as she would be taking a short vacation for the weekend to get away. That way, if she didn't make it back by the next evening, Harry wouldn't freak out too much. It might have been more advisable for her to tell Harry where she was going, but she knew that he would just overreact and send half of the Auror force after her. She was determined to do this by herself.

Her black shirt and black jeans added to the effect of the Disillusionment Charm so that she was practically invisible in the dark night. The front door would be the obvious way to get in, but the guards would obviously notice it opening by itself. Hidden behind a large tree only fifteen feet from the mansion, she contemplated her options.

Hermione eventually decided that, unless she wanted to walk all the way around the house hoping for another entrance, it was time to take some action. She reached quietly into her backpack until she had the vial of potion that she wanted. She took aim carefully, and flung it over towards the two distracted guards. It hit the ground between them and burst into a blinding plume of smoke. Under cover of the smoke, Hermione quickly and quietly opened the front door, closing it immediately behind her.

Unlike the darkness outside, the entryway of the Manor was warmly illuminated by chandeliers of lit candles. Hermione took off the Disillusionment charm, as it was of no more use, and cautiously walked down the first corridor she saw. There were many rooms on either side of the hallway, and she had no way of knowing where Malfoy would be.

"Point me," she whispered, concentrating on Malfoy and his smug face. The wand swiveled and pointed in the opposite direction.

Knowing that she had very little time before someone spotted her, Hermione backtracked swiftly, entering the opposite corridor. A large flight of steps was in her way. She didn't like how exposed she was on the steps, so she ran up them as fast as she could, throwing caution to the winds.

As she walked down the hallway, concentrating on her wand, a door to her left suddenly opened, revealing a sleepy-eyed man. Hermione reacted immediately, stunning the man before he could even reach for his wand. Breathing hard, she dragged him back into the room, which thankfully was his bedroom and empty but for him. She tied him securely to his bedpost and locked the door behind her as she continued down the corridor.

Bloody hell, do they all sleep at his Manor? she wondered, her heart pounding as she followed her wand. Finally, the wand ceased to point forward and changed direction to point at a door to the right. Hermione took a deep breath. She cast an Anti-Squeak charm on the hinges, just in case, and slowly pushed the door open.

It was pitch black in the room, so Hermione quietly fumbled through her pack for another of her potions. Once she had swallowed it, her eyes changed to those of a cat. As her pupils dilated, her night vision improved significantly. She closed the door behind her, silently locked it, and placed the Muffliato spell on the door so none of the Hunters would hear anything and come running. Leaving her backpack on the floor so that she wouldn't give away her presence with the clinking of glass vials, she crept to the enormous bed, where she confirmed that it was indeed Malfoy lying on his back.

Malfoy's eyes were closed and he breathed slowly and evenly. His chest rose and fell slightly with his breaths. He slept shirtless, with the bedcovers twisted around him as if he had been tossing and turning.

Now that she was in his room and had him almost at her mercy, Hermione realized that she had no plan. She couldn't apparate with him to the Ministry, as he was lying down and wouldn't be able to turn in the necessary circle with her. Just as she decided to stun him, tie him up, and get backup, Malfoy's eyes opened. He'd sensed someone else's presence in the room and woken up.

His reflexes were lightning fast. Hermione had counted on him going for his wand, in which case she could easily have stunned him first, but Malfoy's hand shot up and grabbed her wand instead, ripping it from her grasp and throwing it across the room. He gripped her tightly by the shoulders and lunged to his other side, pulling Hermione over him and onto the bed. He ended up lying on top of her, pinning her arms over her head with one hand.

Everything had happened so fast that Hermione exhaled shakily, lying still beneath the man who had easily gotten the better of her. She had promised herself that she wouldn't underestimate the Hunters, but the thought hadn't occurred to her that their leader could have some tricks up his sleeve.

"Who are you?" whispered the slow, silky voice into her ear. He ran his free hand up her body. "A woman?" He sounded surprised.

Hermione could see him perfectly, but as the room was still very dark, she knew that he couldn't see her. His eyelids were heavy with sleep, though the bright grey eyes peeking out from under them were anything but. His weight on top of her held her utterly immobile. As she desperately racked her brain for a plausible story that would work at least until she recovered her wand, Malfoy spoke again.

"Did O'Reilley send you?" he asked quietly in her ear, feeling her shiver beneath him. "Ah."

Hermione shivered with a sudden chill, but Malfoy took that as a shiver of confirmation.

"Tell him that I've forgiven his debt; he doesn't need to keep sending me women," he murmured softly. "But for tonight..."

Hermione's mind was thrown into overdrive as she strove to comprehend Malfoy's words. Her thoughts were completely lost when she felt lips over her own, kissing her deeply. She suddenly put together what Malfoy had said. He thought she was a prostitute sent by this man O'Reilley?

Hermione painfully realized that she would have to play along in order to escape. A tiny part of her mind was dismayed at the fact that she was going to have to be intimate with Draco Malfoy for the second time.

Hermione kissed him back. She hated this man, but oh did he know how to kiss. His hot tongue pushed into her mouth and lazily coaxed hers into play. It wasn't long before Draco released her arms. His hands traveled lightly down her body, though her jeans provided an unwelcome barrier. Hermione panicked, breathing heavily, as he touched her.

She debated quickly whether or not to reveal herself to him, but then she remembered his earlier accusation that she was a whore. If he knew who she was, after what she had done so far, then he would surely do as he had threatened before—give her to his men to do with as they pleased. He would never believe she was a virgin after this. Though she really was, she knew nearly everything about how to please a man; it was an unwelcome part of hanging around a bunch of male, sometimes coarse, Aurors.

No, Hermione couldn't reveal her identity. Her only hope was to go through with this until he was no longer on top of her; it was her only chance to run for either her wand or his. Therefore, she made no protest when Malfoy unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, though she quivered with nervousness. She could feel her traitorous body responding as Malfoy traced circles up and down her bare thigh. Panicking at the unfamiliar feeling and sensations, Hermione tried gently pushing on his chest to get him to give her the upper hand and lie on his back. Before he got the hint, however, Malfoy deftly pushed aside her underwear and found her wet core with two slender fingers.

"Fuck!" Hermione gasped into his mouth, the profanity spilling from her mouth unconsciously. The intensity of the sensation was staggering. Her body rocked forward into his hand. Hermione lost herself utterly in his caress—all thoughts of why she was there completely vanished. Malfoy's fingers alternated between circling her sensitive bud and making shallow thrusts against her wet folds.

Hermione had never done anything more sexual than a kiss with someone, though her relationship with Ron had been drawing closer to something more when it had been so cruelly ended. Malfoy was quickly bringing her towards someplace that she had never been before. He swallowed her cry as she cried out her release, her first orgasm rushing through her with the force of a hurricane.

Satisfied that she was fully ready for him, Malfoy began to pull down his own pants, his erection blindingly obvious in the silken pajamas he wore. Hermione's sex-fogged brain whispered that if she didn't do something now, she might not have a chance to later. She pushed him forcefully onto his back, ignoring the pleas of her body for something that she couldn't even put into words without blushing.

"Mmmm, you want to be in control?" he murmured lazily, his hands behind his head.

Hermione dropped softly to her feet on the ground, grabbing Malfoy's wand off of his nightstand.

"Stupefy!" she cried, watching as the man fell unconscious on the bed. She quickly got dressed and located her own wand, ignoring the shaking of her legs. Her nipples were uncomfortably hard against her t-shirt, but she pushed the arousal aside. She had bigger things to worry about. Tucking Malfoy's wand into her pocket, she slid her backpack back onto her shoulders and approached the bed.

"Ennervate," she said quietly, turning the lights on in the room. She blinked uncomfortably as her eyes adjusted to the light—the effects of the Cats-Eye potion would last for awhile longer.

Malfoy stirred slowly, opening his eyes and blinking. His face flushed an angry red as he realized who had been leading him on. "Granger, you fucking bitch!" he snarled, lunging for her.

Hermione sidestepped him and he fell to the floor. "Don't move or you'll have so many boils on your body that you won't know where you end and they begin," she said smugly, aiming her wand at him.

Malfoy slowly got to his feet, glancing around the room for possible methods of escape. "That was a dirty trick," he hissed nastily, his face red. "But I'd expect nothing else from a fucking slut. That said, I wonder who taught you how to kiss like that. Couldn't have been Weasley—everybody knows he was a fucking ponce." His eyes glittered as he realized he had hit a nerve; bringing up dead boyfriends tended to do that.

Hermione jammed her wand against Draco's neck hard, making him wince. "Don't ever say a fucking word about him ever again, Malfoy," she hissed menacingly into his ear.

Malfoy laughed in her face, startling her. "So what are you planning on doing now, Granger? You can't apparate out of here, and you certainly can't walk out of here, as you're inside an entire houseful of men who can stop you."

Hermione froze, looking at the man whose proximity to her still caused involuntary an involuntary shiver. "I can disapparate!" she protested, her voice suddenly unsure.

"Only people who have a certain tattoo on their wrists can apparate and disapparate near the Manor," Malfoy said, smirking. He gestured at her to go ahead and try.

Hermione grabbed his arm and spun in a circle, trying to disapparate. "How did you do this?" she cried in frustration.

Malfoy took advantage of her distraction to swing his arm up and knock her wand out of her hand. The wand went flying.

Malfoy and Hermione looked at each other for a split second before diving for it. Malfoy reached it first and held her wand up triumphantly, smirking.

"I'd back up really slowly if I was you, Granger," warned Malfoy, picking himself up from the floor.

Hermione's eyes were wide open as she lay on the floor where she had landed. She had somehow managed to land on her back and was looking rather uncomfortable with her backpack twisted underneath her. "Malfoy," she gasped.

"Back up," Malfoy repeated, watching her warily.

"No, seriously," she whispered frantically, staring into his eyes. It suddenly struck Malfoy that she looked frightened for the first time. "We need to run."

"What are you talking about? I'm not falling for that agai—" Before Malfoy could finish his sentence, Hermione had discarded her pack, leapt to her feet, and ran for the door.

"Impedimenta!" he cried, halting her in her tracks.

"The potions in my bag broke and mixed when I fell!" screamed Hermione, struggling to be free of the jinx. "They're going to explode any second!"

She reached for Malfoy's wand in her pocket when everything suddenly erupted into a blaze of green fire. The last thing she saw was her wand glowing in Malfoy's hand as he put up a shield charm in front of himself.