"Ready for today, Granger?" Malfoy asked from just over Hermione's shoulder, startling her.

She yelped and turned to swat at him. "Why are you perpetually pestering me?"

"Look at you; I knew with a little brushing up on the basics you'd master those three-syllable words. Before long you'll be as well-spoken as myself."

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to face him and walking back a few steps. "You're positively loquacious Malfoy. And I mean that with all ill intent possible."

Draco barked out a pleasant laugh, dragging his hands through his hair. "Have I told you yet today that your arse looks delectable in those trousers." His voice rose a bit to cover the distance between them as she continued her retreat.

She bit back a smile, chuckling as she turned, knowing full well he was staring at her legging-clad bum. Let him suffer a bit.

XXXXX

They were no longer in pairs. The entire group of younger recruits stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at a faceless dummy about ten feet away.

O'Connor was practically vibrating with giddiness as he paced back and forth between them and their practice dummies.

"Right!" He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "So, as I said, I'm a specialist with the Auror department. I deal specifically with the use of Dark Magic. Your entire lives you have been taught to shy away from this side of the magical spectrum—that ends today.

"In the field, firing stunners and disarming spells will get you killed. You need to learn the proper way of using dark magic." He paused for a moment, staring each of them down. "It's not as easy it sounds."

"Sir?" Luna chimed in, taking a small step forward. "Dark magic stains your magical signature—doesn't it?"

O'Connor's face screwed up as he tilted his head back and forth. "Not inherently. All magic comes with an unspoken responsibility. For example, I can say the word Crucio, so why doesn't it cast?" His hands twined together behind his back as he faced them, waiting for an answer.

Hermione's hand shot into the air and the rest of the line shook with silent laughter. She was used to it.

"Granger?"

"Spells are cast with intent. Even if you were to use the proper wand movements and say the spell, your intent needs to be present."

"Is that why you're shite at calling a broom?" Seamus snickered from her left and she shot him a warning glare.

Again, the group tittered in a low chuckle.

"Alright, enough of that," O'Connor scolded, resuming his pacing. "Hermione's right. Intent. Effectively cursing someone comes down to intent and technical skill. This is where most of you will falter in the field. When your emotions are high and adrenaline is pumping… when you're staring at the wand of someone who is ready to kill you with a flick of their wrist—one or the other falters.

"Now, we can't exactly practice this on each other. Hence these dummies. This morning, they won't be able to fire back." He paused, peeking over his shoulder with an amused curl to his lips. "This afternoon, they will. Let's start with a simple curse. Well placed, this will kill your opponent."

Hermione stiffened. He spoke so easily about ending someone's life. As if it were nothing—as if the person didn't have someone, somewhere, who cared about them.

"Like this." O'Connor took his stance, slicing his wand through the air and flourishing it in a small spiral at the end. "Secare."

The practice dummy at the opposite end seeped lime green fluid from its belly. Hermione flinched, imagining blood pouring from someone's stomach and thanking Morgana that it wasn't red.

He cast a Reparo and then moved behind the line of students as they all took their stance.

Effortlessly, Hermione reproduced the wand movement, firmly casting the spell—but nothing happened. She frowned, repeating the steps again and yielding the same result.

Several paces down, both Malfoy and Nott's dummies wept neon green fluid onto the wet grass. They shrugged and stood back, watching everyone else with a curious glare.

Malfoy's eyes fell to Hermione's and she frowned before trying a third time. Still, the dummy stared blankly back at her, even as she shook in her rage.

XXXXX

They practiced several curses that morning and each time, Hermione failed to cast. She wished she could say she was disappointed, but she was fucking livid. The Burning Curse had come next, and she had watched as almost every other dummy flared in a vibrant crimson.

After lunch, the dummies were able to curse back. Mild versions of the originals—the Burning Curse felt like a stinger; instead of having her lungs fill with saltwater, the Drowning Curse made her cough up a bit of water.

And time after fucking time, Hermione got hit. By a dummy.

Not only did these curses require intent, but a strong, almost burning desire to cast them. Which, to be fair, she mused, she did have but not for the right reasons. She wanted to cast them because not being able to do so was infuriating; she didn't want to cause the dummy to bleed out. Hermione wasn't sure she was capable of wanting anyone to die, no matter who they were.

O'Connor gave her a placating little turn of his mouth and while she tried to remain calm, cool, and collected; her teeth ground together and her nostrils flared as she turned towards the dummy and pointed her wand squarely at the end of the field.

"Incarcerous!"

Several feet of thick rope shot out from the tip of her wand and wrapped tightly around the arms and torso of the practice dummy, which remained motionless.

O'Connor levied an exhausted breath as he turned towards her, his mouth turned unpleasantly downwards.

"Why isn't that good enough in the field?" Hermione asked with a defiant little huff. "They aren't getting away until I lift those ropes."

His voice raised an octave as he now spoke to the rest of the group, but his gaze remained steady on Hermione. "I am not here to tell you to kill someone or that this is the only way. I am here to offer you the tools you need to survive this war. Disarming, stunners, spells of the like—they might help you survive the day but when the Death Eaters decimate our numbers with killing curses and we let them walk free—tell me what is the outcome you expect?"

It was Ginny who spoke next, her small pale hand lifting barely into the air. "Can't we just take them prisoner? We won't be killing and we can gain information?" she asked, looking tentatively at the rest of her team who seemed to be nodding in quiet agreement.

Trueman joined O'Connor and they stood in matching posture, staring at the children, for lack of a better term, with tight glares.

"There are harsh realities to war," Trueman said tersely. "Things that even O'Connor hasn't seen first hand. Realities I wish you lot could be spared from." He scratched his brow and the side of his face screwed up. "Moody will explain it to the field teams. For now, do your best to learn from the best, and pray you don't need it."

XXXXX

It was a rubbish day.

Not that anyone knew, or cared, but it wasn't exactly how she liked to spend her day, getting her arse kicked by a literal dummy.

Back at Surrey, Hermione was in an intense staring contest with the bottle of red wine in the cupboard. Her bum was pressed against the edge of the counter, her arms crossed squarely in front of her as she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip.

After several long minutes, she reached around and plucked it from the corner by its neck, twisting her wand through the air until the cork popped out.

It was her birthday, after all.

It may have been a cheap bottle when compared to something found in the Malfoy cellars, but Circe, after the day—nay, the week—she'd had, it tasted like heaven.

Pouring herself an offensively healthy pour, she grabbed her cardigan and headed for the front porch.

Late September in the Surrey countryside was a stunning sight to see. The hills just over the cliff faded from the vibrant greens of summer to a pale yellow; every time a strong gust of wind came through, vibrant colored leaves would rain from the sky.

But the sunset—gods, the sunset.

She sat on the steps, tugging her cardigan tightly around her as she watched the sky explode in a canvas of colors so beautiful, she was sure she couldn't describe it to someone even if they were sitting next to her.

As she watched the sky dance in ribbons of varying hues, she couldn't help but imagine where the following months would be taking her. War.

What a strange concept. She'd spent the last week learning how to fight, how to disarm, how to kill. A shiver worked its way down her spine as she drained the rest of her goblet. With a wave of her wand, the bottle soared through the house and landed neatly at her side.

About halfway through her second glass, when the sun was tucked neatly under the horizon and the moon was making its debut, she heard a rustle in the woods to her right.

Her heart seized for a moment and her fingers tensed around the thin strip of wood that felt all too often like her lifeline. But then, in all his glory, Gofer came into view.

He must have been in a spectacularly bad mood because the feathers that made up his ears were ruffled and wild. Large, golden eyes glared at her, flickering to the glass of wine in her hand and then back to her with a judgmental edge.

She giggled into her wine glass as she took a small sip and he stuck his leg out for her. Attached to his ankle was a tiny scroll of parchment. Her hand smoothed his wild feathers, and his ears fell back as he leaned into the familiar touch before she released the note from Gofer's leg.

He hooted once more at her, this time with a less judgmental tone, and then took a few strides back, his wings extending as he took a ridiculous little running start before taking to the skies, snagging on branches on the way out.

With a wry shake of her head, she unfurled the parchment and her heart caught in her throat. Usually, Hedwig delivered notes from the boys.

H-

Happy Birthday. Wish we could be there. Back soon.

-H AND R

The letter was meant to cheer her up, she knew that. She knew that. Instead, it had the opposite effect she felt shattered by the scrap of parchment in her hands. Every single step into this war was further from the life she'd known for the last seven years. She wanted to be with her friends, wanted to be making a goddamn difference in this war instead of rotting away in these little houses.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was just being really fucking sad… but either way, she found herself pouring her third glass and weeping in the darkness. With each violent shake of her shoulders, a new round of tears slipped over her cheeks.

Just when she was cursing her wine buzz and the ill planning of spending her birthday woefully alone, two quick cracks of Apparition sounded to her left.

Brilliant.

"Herm—" Theo's greeting died as his gaze rested on her, drowning in tears and clutching a glass of wine like a buoy in a hurricane. "Erm… hey. Oh fuck, I'm not—I don't really do well with—"

"Theo, stop blubbering." Malfoy stepped from the darkness, his hair glowing in the moonlight and Hermione cried harder. "Grab the Firewhisky from my bag, would you?" His gaze was tight and fixated on Hermione as Theo jogged up the steps, disappearing into the house.

"What's the issue, Granger? Did you get your period or something?" Malfoy asked, leaning his back against the house as he turned his head to stare at her.

A surprised laugh bubbled past her lips and her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth. Malfoy's snooty arse bringing up a female's menstruation was just something that demanded to be laughed at.

She sucked in a large breath, exhaling it out over several seconds. "It's my birthday," she confessed.

After nearly three glasses of wine, she could confidently say she was rather wasted. Save for a glass of wine on holidays and her birthday, Hermione was not a drinker. But tonight, oh tonight, she could understand the merits. All the hell she'd been through, all the aches in her body… everything felt better for a few hours.

"Is it some kind of Muggle tradition that you have to cry on your birthday?"

Her resounding laugh was sadder than it was before, as her forefinger swirled over the swell of her glass. "I wish I could say it was. Just a shitty day… week… year? Several years if I'm being honest."

Theo reappeared then, tossing a bottle of amber liquid at Malfoy, whose quick reflexes plucked it easily from the air. "Cheers, Granger." He winked, twisting the cap off and tipping it to his lips. "It's the swot's birthday, Theo. I think we ought to celebrate." The smirk that used to infuriate her graced his lips, but this time it did something altogether silly in her belly.

XXXXX

Her birthday party moved inside after the chill of late September refused to be staved off by warming charms.

Huddled in that tiny crumbling safe house, around a roaring fire, Hermione found herself somewhere she never expected.

She was laughing.

Real laughs. Deep, painful belly laughs that tore a stitch in her side as she sucked in short dry breaths and tears rolled down her cheeks.

She found she much preferred these types of tears to the ones she'd tasted earlier in the evening.

Hermione was still swimming in her glass of wine, but the boys had done some real damage to the liquor they'd passed back and forth. Malfoy's demeanor seemed mostly the same, maybe a bit friendlier, with less of a bite to his personality. But Theo? Theo was more talkative than she could ever have imagined and his cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet.

They were playing a silly little game where, in turn, one person sat in the hot seat. The remaining pair could ask a single question and the first person could choose to answer or take a drink.

It was currently Theo's turn and his watery, bloodshot eyes were staring at the bottle and then back to Hermione with a nervous tick. "I can't do another shot," he hiccuped.

"Then answer the question," Hermione chuckled, drawing her legs up to tuck them under a thin blanket.

Theo's lips folded together and his nose, adorably, scrunched up as Draco shook with silent laughter next to her on the couch. "Mmmmm can't do that either."

"It can't be that bad, Theo!" She really didn't care all that much who he'd lost his virginity to, but he refused to answer or comply by the rules and take a blasted drink. "Go'on!' Her own tongue betrayed her as her words slurred and she finished her final gulp of wine.

Readjusting next to her, Malfoy drew one foot up to slide under his knee as his body opened up to her. He rested his arm across the back of the couch. "Just say it, Theo, she doesn't care."

Theo growled something unintelligible and raked his hand through his overgrown hair.

"I didn't," he clipped..

Hermione's brows tugged together. "Didn't what?"

"Didn't lose it."

"Lose what?"

"Merlin, fuck. Granger, are you that dense?" Theo's hands fell open in front of him.

"Are we even talking about the same—"

Draco erupted into a fit of giggles, doubling over and readjusting in his seat, his thigh now pressed against her foot. Did he notice? She did. She most definitely did.

"I've got to piss," Theo said with a narrowed glare and he walked out of the room, his foot catching on the dusty rug.

Hermione sat up, still confused about what had happened and realized she was all too close to Malfoy now. "What'd I say?"

His chin jerked over his shoulder in the way of the bathroom. "He's a virgin," Draco said offhandedly, taking a long sip from the bottle of Firewhisky before placing it back on the table.

Hermione slapped her forehead with a flat palm. "Bollocks. I shouldn't have assumed…"

"Your turn, Granger." There was something about the low fervor in his voice that woke something in her belly and her lashes fluttered as she stared at him on the other end of the sofa. "Did you really fuck Krum?"

Rolling her eyes, a chuckle played on her lips. "Why on earth would I lie to you? You wasted your question."

His lips mashed together as he slumped in his seat petulantly.

"Why are you here?" she asked, taking her turn. Draco's silver eyes lifted to hers and a wrinkle formed between his brows.

"Moody told us to set up here—"

"No. Why are you with the Order? Why did you defect? And why can't I shake the feeling that you aren't telling me everything?"

The corners of his jaw clenched as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing once. "That's three questions."

"Humor me, then." Hermione sat up straighter but didn't move the leg that was brushing against his.

His eyes flashed dangerously and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. "I'm with the Order because I'd have to be a fool to think that my father and the rest of those idiots were doing the right thing by helping plot a genocide. And of all the many things I am, I'm no fool. I defected because… well, that should be obvious by part one. I needed out, and the Order was my only way." He shrugged and took another pull from the bottle, this time setting it down too roughly, causing her to jump in her seat. "And you think I'm not telling you everything, because I'm not. You don't deserve to know everything and the fact that you think you do, is exactly why Gryffindors grate my nerves worse than the rest."

The energy between them was tangible; it felt like their magic was pushing against each other's, demanding the space.

A wicked smile formed on his lips. "My turn. Who do you want to kiss you on your birthday? Me or Theo?"

"What?" Hermione paled, laughing nervously. "What makes you think I want to kiss anyone?"

"It's bad luck if you don't get kissed on your birthday. Everyone knows that," Draco stated seriously, and her gaze flickered briefly to the smirk pulling at his lips.

She snorted. "No one knows that. It's not a thing."

"I'm sure Theo would oblige, though he's a bit more inebriated than myself. I mean, imagine all that sloppy tongue. I," he gestured to himself, "am an excellent kisser. I can provide references. You really wouldn't want a stint of bad luck, what with everything going on." His eyebrows waggled comically as his pearly teeth caught the flesh of his lip.

A fierce blush stained her cheeks and she sucked in a sobering breath, shaking her head free of the buzzing that had settled between her ears.

"I'll just have to take my chances," she breathed.

"Well, you still have to answer the question." He smirked. "That's the rules, after all."

She dragged her fingers through her curls and tossed them to one side as a shy smile crept over her features. Sliding just a few inches closer to him, she stared up at him through her lashes and he stiffened.

Her mouth came painfully close to his, so close she could smell his minty toothpaste mixed with whisky and the lingering scent of his cologne. Her hand snaked past him, wrapping around the glass bottle to her left, and with a grin, she fell back into her corner of the couch.

"Cheeky minx," he scolded with a thin glare.

She winced as the liquor scorched her throat and Theo stumbled out of the bathroom. "Tired. 'Appy Birthday, Granger."

"Guess it's time for bed." She shrugged, placing the bottle back on the counter and pulling the blanket from her legs.

Malfoy followed silently, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets. She paused outside her door and turned back towards him, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Thank you, Malfoy. It was a shitty day, but it got better."

"Yeah." His lips twitched. "You're not as awful company as I thought."

Hermione rolled her eyes, shoving him softly in the chest.

With a startling quickness, his hand trapped hers, pressing her palm into the hard plane of his muscle; she could just barely make out the soft thudding of his heart against her fingers.

Her lips parted, gasping audibly, and Malfoy took a step until her back was bumping into her bedroom door.

"Last chance for that kiss, Granger."

She was intoxicated—not just by the alcohol, although surely that was a contributing factor; there was something about having Malfoy this close to her. Something about the flecks of blue in his gray eyes and the soft curve of his bottom lip… that he kept wetting with that damn tongue.

The hand not splayed over hers moved to her hip, gripping her softly before winding to her lower back.

It was her birthday, after all.

Her fingers curled into his t-shirt and she lifted onto her tiptoes until they were bumping noses.

Their lips hovered just a breath away from each other's, and she swore the anticipation alone was enough to send her over the edge.

"I still think you're a prat," she breathed, her other hand drifting up to slide effortlessly into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He chuckled, the air ghosting over her lips. "I still think you're an insufferable swot, but that holds no bearings on me wanting to snog you."

There was no way of telling who was the one who closed the distance when their lips crashed together in such a punishing way. Maybe that's what this kiss was: a punishment.

They moved brutally against one other. Malfoy's hands slid around her, his back curving to accommodate her height as she bit down hard on his lip, her tongue quickly darting out to soothe the wound.

Malfoy's touch drifted down towards her bum, where he gripped the flesh of her arse before lifting her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his trim waist, he pressed her firmly into the door. His lips moved on from bruising hers to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat and along her collarbone.

A low whimper slipped past her lips as her lower back arched into him. One of his hands remained firmly on her arse and the other pushed her the sleeve of her cardigan down so he could pay proper attention to the constellation of freckles along her shoulders.

Hermione's hands tangled in his sugar soft hair, tugging firmly and earning little noises that made her thighs tighten around him.

Gods, not only was she was kissing Malfoy, but she was really kissing Malfoy. Kissing him in a way that held silent questions and answers and promises. Kisses that left her breathless and panting and wanting more-more-more.

His lips latched onto a thin patch of skin just under her ear and she moaned as he sucked and nipped, bruising her. She'd have a love bite come morning, but she, surprisingly enough, couldn't bring herself to care. Not when his hand was snaking under the hem of her shirt and up the ladder of her ribs, his fingers just brushing the side of her breast.

Hands pulling harder on his hair, she wrenched his head back so she could claim him again, this time diving into his mouth and brushing her tongue firmly against his. Malfoy's hold on her arse lessened and she slid down his body a touch, and at first, she thought he was letting her go. He wasn't. Both of his hands moved to palm her arse and he pressed his stiff cock against her mound.

A strangled cry escaped as she felt him there. His cool touch again snuck up her shirt, this time his fingers climbing up her spine and curling at the base of her neck.

The door behind Malfoy burst open; he unceremoniously dropped her and they both flattened against opposite walls, panting.

Theo tumbled out, looking green and Hermione's eyes grew wide as he reached for the bathroom door handle, only to vomit on the floor.

"Fuck, Nott," Draco growled, wrapping his arm under his friend to steady him. "Into the loo with you. What, you don't get laid, gotta make sure no one else does either?" His voice had returned to the teasing tone from earlier and he grinned at Hermione, one eye fluttering in a wink.

She felt a riotous objection between her thighs, her hormones begging him to return even as her mind settled back into reason. "Goodnight, Malfoy," she panted, her hand twisting the doorknob as she slipped into her room.

Once inside she pressed the door closed and rested her forehead against the worn wood. It was very likely she had just made a very grave error—but damn if it hadn't tasted good.

XXXXX

She slept deeply, maybe too deeply as she didn't wake until the sun was bright and pouring through the thin curtains of the large room. Her denims were tossed haphazardly on the end of the bed, along with her bra and cardigan, and her t-shirt was bunched up around her waist.

Not all too different from most nights, except that when she blinked her eyes open, she noticed a glass of water and two white tablets. Muggle medicine. Someone had left them, which meant someone had come in, bearing witness to her wild ratty curls and knickers on full display. Brilliant.

After swallowing the medicine and chugging the tepid glass of water, she dressed. There was an unruly mess of butterflies deep in her belly as she emerged from her room. She'd come dangerously close to taking things too far with Malfoy and she decided to forego the spirits for the foreseeable… well, forever. Forever seemed a good amount of time especially with the throbbing under her temples.

"Morning, Granger," Malfoy said cheerfully from the armchair where Theo had been perched last night.

Instinctively she narrowed her eyes at him. "Malfoy. How's Theo?"

"Theo's dying," Theo croaked, and Hermione shrieked, jumping back from the sofa where he was hidden under a large blanket, his messy hair peeking out from the corner.

"Theo!" she admonished. "Are you ill?" She gripped the fabric and tugged it away, earning a hiss as the sun covered his face.

"Yes," he groaned, pulling the blanket up again and curling into a fetal position. "Nausea, sensitivity to light and sound, headache…"

Hermione snorted loudly, pulling a face as she walked over to the first aid kit and snagging a pain potion. "That's just a hangover, Theo. You can't claim illness."

"Hey, I want one," Draco whined petulantly. "I have a headache too."

"No."

He scoffed back at her, his mouth dropping as though she had just insulted his favorite Quidditch team. "Why does Theo get one?"

"Because he's miserable. You're fine! You're reading the bloody Prophet; you'll be fine with aspirin and that's far easier to procure than pain potions. Quit whining."

Malfoy's stare skimmed from her face and landed on her neck, his lips pulled into a slow, bright smile as Theo emerged from his cave of blankets.

"Better. Thanks, Hermione," he said, resting his head against the armrest. His smile faded as he looked at her, his features transforming from confusion to embarrassment.

"What?" she asked, her brows pulled low.

"It's nothing," Theo said quickly, shaking his head.

She looked back to Malfoy who was vibrating with silent laughter.

"Tell me," she said firmly and Theo grimaced.

"Well, your hickey is showing… it just caught me by—"

Hermione gasped, her hand flying up to cover the sensitive spot that was now pulsing under her ear. Malfoy, unable to keep quiet, let out a booming laugh as both Theo and Hermione blushed furiously.

"Prat!" She sneered at Malfoy across the room before stomping outside.

"Swot!" he called after her, laughter still trickling out.

XXXXX

A/N: Thank you as always to MCal and InDreams for their Alpha and Beta love. This would be a pot of steaming garbage without you. I own absolutely nothing but the mistakes.