Mid February

Drenched and shivering from the icy sheets of rain, Hermione fumbled with her key, finding it difficult shoving the blasted thing into the hole. Finally, it slipped in and she entered the warmth of her flat. She instantly shirked her sopped running jacket and removed her shoes and socks. Her toes were wrinkly and white and cold, and she padded towards the bedroom and saw the bed messy and the loo door open. Fragrant steam from the running shower came into the bedroom, and she put her keys on the nightstand and stripped off the rest of her running clothes.

"I'm home!" she yelled.

"Did you bring breakfast?" asked Junior.

"No!"

"Whiskey, then?"

"No!"

"Damn."

She opened the door fully and leaned against the frame watching Junior through the fogged glass of the shower and then went and pressed her forehead against the glass. "I'm cold."

The door opened, and she stepped inside and cupped Junior's unshaved face, kissing him. His fingers found the pin holding her curls into place and gently pulled it out and placed it on the shelf. He used her hair as leverage to expose her neck and suck on her pulse.

"How was your morning?" she whispered throatily.

Junior cupped her breast and massaged it. "Lonely. Woke up and you were gone. You left your phone."

"I was gone longer than I thought I'd be. There was flooding on the Square. Didn't think I needed it."

He nibbled on her bottom lip and then brushed his nose against hers and cupping her palms, placing them where needed. "Who's Sam?"

Hermione knitted her brows. "Why?"

"He called. Who is he?"

"Are you seriously asking me that when I have my hands around your prick?"

He let go of her breast, and she him. He messaged his mouth and chin and then said, "Bloke seemed upset a man was answering your phone. Something you want to tell me, love?"

"You shouldn't have answered my phone." Hermione gathered her wet hair and started furiously working through the knots. He should've just let it ring!

"All I want to know is if you got some goddamn Yank bloody waitin' for you."

"You're blowing this way out of the water."

"Am I? You keep saying you're going back to the States, and I'm thinking it's because you want to be a part of the action. That's not it, is it? You got him back there. You got Sam."

"Your jealousy is unbecoming. God, Junior, we're not even together. Not really."

He seemed troubled and stepped away from her. "Where do you see this going, Granger? Huh? Because I see us together."

"We're not good at being together, Junior. We're only good and two things, and one of them is hunting."

"This can work. We're not bleedin' kids anymore."

"We weren't kids then, and I don't know if you've noticed, but the world is ending, like, yesterday."

"The States are in the shit. Not us!"

"It'll spread. You know that." She sighed. "You're only acting this way because of Hamilton. You wouldn't be thinking this way otherwise."

"Don't tell me how I think."

"I will because I know how you think."

Junior glared at her, his golden brown eyes harsh. "I'm done hunting. Papa wants to go back to Italy. I'm going with him. I want you to come with us."

"Don't be ridiculous, Junior. You can't quit hunting. There's only one way out of this life."

"You go back to the States, Granger," Junior said quietly, "and you'll find your way." His voice grew shaky and thick. "But who's going to burn you when you do?"

Junior hadn't a lot of things at her flat. Everything he brought a week earlier fit all into his duffle bag. He hesitated before walking out the door, his hand on the doorknob. He smiled grimly at her and said, "I'm going to miss you, Hermione."

"I'm not leaving yet, Junior," she told him.

"You do survive this thing, come see us. Papa would like that."

She returned a smile. "I would to."

"Happy Valentine's Day," he remarked before walking out the door.

Adjusting the hood of her grey, zip up jacket, Hermione filed onto the tube and squeezed by the other passengers who were more indecisive of whether they wanted to sit or stand. With her eyes on the target, she managed to sit far enough not to rouse suspicion but close enough to keep him in her sights. The man grinned lazily at his clueless victim who was wrapped around him, besotted and doe-eyed. He tucked a lock of ginger hair around her ear and gently kissed her. When he pulled away, the girl's blue eyes blinked open and completely glazed over. Blood rushed to her cheeks and her hand slid from his chest to cup the front of his trousers He laughed and whispered something in her ear, carefully extracting the palm over his manhood and placing it on his thigh.

Two hours ago Patrick Lewis came banging at her flat door. When she opened it, he shoved a file at her and shouted, "She's late! She's goddamn late! Blithering hell and all its goodies! She's fetching late! I have to go."

He tried to leave, but Hermione grabbed him by the back of his collar. "Hold on! Don't you dare dump this on me and leave!"

"Alexia's late, Granger! I have to go! She's waiting in the car!"

"What is she late for? A date?"

"A date." He laughed manically and then wailed dramatically. "No more dates for her! Ever, you hear? I told her to slow down. Stop and think, you know? But no." He shook his head and sniffled, messaging his eyes. "'You're such a drag, Patrick. I can't take you anywhere, Patrick! I'm going out, Patrick! Don't follow me, Patrick! I can take care of myself, Patrick! You're not Daddy, Patrick! You can't ground me!'"

"Patrick…"

"Oh, I'll put her in the corner." He nodded confidently, red-faced and peeved. "She's not hunting anymore! I'm sending her back to Mum and Dad, and they can bloody deal with her and the…Ah! I can't even say it! Dad's going to kill me! He's going to blame me, you know? And Mum? Don't get me started on Mother!

Hermione covered her mouth, nodding. "Those Irishmen, yeah?"

"Some sod," he hissed, clenching his fists. "Put his ruddy hands all over her and put his prick in her and now..."

"She's late."

"I have to go." He pointed to the file in Hermione's hand. "Take care of that. Works at Hallen & Rowe as a top-notch attorney. Frequents at least five different strip joints. Alternates his visits but feasts on the same girls. He takes them back to his place and slowly drains them over a period of time. Two weeks in, they finally croak. You know…when they start…during there…" He grimaced and shuddered. "Cycle. Bodies can't handle it."

"I can't hunt an incubus, Patrick!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I thought it would be rude to ask Junior, and you're the closest hunter on the way to the clinic. Just be careful, love. You'll be fine. Out of all the girly hunters, you're the best and brightest. You take those pills."

"Patrick."

"Unless you don't need them…"

"Just go."

Mister Lance Redford lived in Surrey in a nice, two-story home fit for a family and not a bachelor. Hermione wondered if he fed the victims lies about how his home was too big and he wished to fill it with a beautiful wife and children. Some of these girls were looking for Prince Charming, and Redford fit that description. He was lawyer, over six feet tall, had greyish blue eyes, ginger blondish hair, and Slavic features. Indeed, he was a fine specimen. Plus, he was excreting supernatural pheromones, causing every female around him to want to make babies with him.

Hermione needed to keep focused, and she was doing brilliantly if she said so herself. When Redford and his companion got off the tube, she was subtle in following behind. When they dined on French cuisine, she sipped on club soda at the bar while reading the London Times, dodging the pitying looks from the bartender. Yes, she was alone on Valentine's Day and reading the newspaper at a bar, not even drinking.

After the three course meal, plus a shared slice of cake for dessert, Redford and his victim left the restaurant, and Hermione followed. He brought her to his home where his victim ooh-ed and ahhh-ed before they disappeared inside the house.

Hermione waited five minutes before testing the doorknob. It was unlocked, so she quietly entered and made sure the thin stake of holy wood was still strapped underneath her bra. She crept into the kitchen and swiped a knife in case she needed to slow down Redford enough to kill him.

Thumping and giggling could be heard from upstairs, so Hermione hurriedly found the staircase and climbed them and saw the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. The door was open, and she heard bed springs creaking loudly. The girl wasn't giggling anymore but moaning tiredly. "You always make me feel this way," she said.

Hermione slipped her finger up the back of her jacket and shirt as she went towards the bedroom. She got about halfway there when something made her stop. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she swiveled her eyes to the right where she saw a closet door with ventilation slots.

Someone was watching her.

She focused back on the open doorway and distinctly heard a man grunting. The incubus was in there, so who was in the closet?

She closed her eyes and tried to pick up any sound that wasn't coming from the bedroom and barely made out some whispering coming from the closet.

"There is somebody in the house. I, repeat, there is somebody in the house. Presumably female. Age, unknown. Height, approximately 1.6 meters. She's wearing a grey jacket with a hood. I can't see her face. The hallway is too dark."

There were times Hermione had to make split decisions, and this time was no different. There was a cop inside that closet who was reporting back to someone most likely not far. They were not equipped in handling an incubus. Their tranq darts would do nothing to stop it or even slow it down.

Since the first time she was arrested, Hermione hadn't pleasant experiences with the police. Nevertheless, she knew most of them to be good people, and she would be doing a dishonor to civilians and society if she didn't look after them when presented the opportunity.

Hermione faced the closet and flicked the lock on the doorknob.

"I've been made. She's locked the door. What is she doing?!"

She ran from the closet and into the bedroom and saw Redford and the girl underneath the covers. He was thrusting over her supine form and bristled when sensed her. He snapped his focus on her and growled. "Dessert," he purred and grabbed the confused girl by the head. "This one's about dead anyway."

Hermione grabbed the knife she stole from the kitchen from the back of her jeans and flung it at him, the blade embedding in his muscled arm. He howled and leapt from the bed, coming at her in a sprint. She kneed him between the legs, and he doubled over. She grabbed his chin and the back of his skull and twisted with all her might, breaking his neck. He fell to the floor. It would only neutralize him momentarily.

"Leave," she told the girl.

"You killed him!" she wept weakly, struggling to get off the mattress.

"He was going to kill you. You need to leave now!"

Still sobbing, the girl ran into the loo and closed the door behind her, locking it.

"Whatever," Hermione muttered and stooped over, rolling Redford onto his back and sliding out the holy wood from underneath her shirt.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

She glanced over her shoulder and saw a man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, a tranq gun trained on her.

"Shit," she whispered and rolled her eyes, slowly bringing her hands by her head.

"Drop whatever it is you're holding!"

She complied and he came up behind her, grabbing her wrist. She twisted it and turned around, grabbing his hand and bringing her foot up to kick the tranq out of his grasp. She threw a right hook which the man blocked and attempted kicking him again, but he grabbed her foot and flipped her onto the floor. From there, she brought her knee to the back of his and brought him down to her level. She grabbed the front of his hoodie and he locked his fingers around her wrists and did a backwards roll, bring her along with him. He had her pinned at the threshold of the bedroom, and she curled her legs up and wrapped them around his neck and flipped him onto his side. She scrambled to get away from him and saw the tranq gun within arm's reach. She swiped it and pointed it at him. "You are ruining everything!"

"Let me make it better," a conscious Redford cooed and grabbed her hood and pulled it back, sinking his fingers into her hair and yanking. He dragged her towards the bed as she scratched at his grip. She fired a dart at him, hoping to catch him in the eye but she missed. He chuckled and took the tranq from her and fired it at the cop who was starting towards them. The man dodged it and lunged at Redford, both falling to the bed. Hermione crawled away to snatch the holy wood stake and got to her feet, watching as the cop delivered punch after punch to incubus.

"Get out of the way!" she barked.

"Bitch, don't move!" the cop yelled and Hermione frowned. Did she look like she was going somewhere?

"Get off of him!" She linked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him off Redford and delivered an upper cut to his jaw and a swinging fist to his nose. He fell to the floor, cupping his bleeding face.

"Have you no marbles?!" he hissed.

"Plenty." She straddled the black and blue Redford, plunging the stake into his heart. Smoke oozed from the wound and towards the ceiling, evaporating into nothing.

"What the bloody hell?" the cop cursed, his focus trained on the ceiling.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't ask." She marched passed him but he grabbed her by the ankle, tripping her.

"I don't think so." He sat on her legs and forced her hands behind her back. "I have to take you in. My partner is on his way now. You cost us this case."

"Redford is dead! I bloody solved your case, you ungrateful arse!"

"You murdered him."

Hermione felt the cold metal of handcuffs link around her wrists, and she exhaled sharply.

Well, shit!

The cop helped her to her feet and flicked on the lights by the door. Hermione grimaced and reluctantly craned her head to look at the man behind her who was pulling off his hood to reveal stark blond hair.

"Nice hair," she snickered and then something icy pooled in her stomach when she settled on his shocked face. "Oh, my God!"

Hermione flattened her back against the wall and faced him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her heart thumped wildly, and she was stunned, utterly. She had no idea what to do. If she should run or say something…

"Get away from me," she ordered shakily. "Don't touch me. Don't come any closer."

"You're alive?"

Draco Malfoy looked like he was going to be sick. He was ashen grey and covered his mouth, taking a a step back.

Tears slipped down Hermione's cheeks. She couldn't help it. She was utterly revolted. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, and that meant only one thing.

Death Eater.

He put up his hands. "It's all right. It's okay. Bloody hell, look at you."

"You disgust me! You're disgusting! Get away from me! I know what you are. I know what you are." She stared at his covered left forearm. "Come any closer, and I'll break your neck, I swear to God."

"Is that so?" He narrowed his eyes and stepped back. "Easy, Granger. I think we need to talk."

Hermione tossed the unlocked handcuffs at his face, distracting him. She ran by him and into the hallway and into a solid mass. Instinct kicked in and she knocked the man's arms away from her and grabbed his shoulders and bringing his face towards her, and she slammed her forehead against his before pushing him aside and running down the stairs. She saw police lights in the front yard, so she ran towards the backdoor. The moment she had the door open, she thought of her flat in London and Disapparated, a hand grabbing her shoulder right when she did.

Twisting and turning through time and space, Hermione landed in a heap on the carpet of her sitting room and froze when hearing a scream of pain. She turned towards the sound on saw Malfoy clutching leg above his right knee, blood pouring onto the floor, soaking into the carpet.

"Help," he wheezed, his teeth clenched together. "Help me."

Splinched. He'd been splinched!

"You shouldn't have run after me," she cried and she clutched her stomach. He was going to bleed out and a part of her didn't care. He was a Death Eater! A murderer!

The other part, the more humane, saw his pained face and heard his pleas. She couldn't let him die like this, so she ran into her loo and brought back the first aid, dumping the entire box's contents on the floor beside Malfoy. He was no longer clutching his leg but shivering and whimpering, and his chest stuttered for breath. She grabbed the scissor and cut at the knee of his blood-soaked trousers and examined the wound. He needed to go to the hospital. Nevertheless, she poured peroxide over the bleeding hole where flesh and muscle used to be. Malfoy yelped and hissed and tried to move away from her.

"Don't. I'm trying to help you."

He stopped moving and the wound bubbled and foamed a pinkish hue. Hermione grabbed a syringe full of lidocaine and injected it near the gaping hole. There was enough to numb a good portion of his quadriceps. While she waited for that to kick in, she readied a needle and thread and started sewing up the injury. By the time she was halfway done, Malfoy was eerily quiet. She looked at his bloodless face. He was staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

"I'm almost done. I suggest you get to the hospital as soon as possible," she told him.

"You can Apparate," he whispered.

"Yes."

He lifted his head and swallowed, his grey eyes filled with mistrust and fury. "How?"

"You may limp for a while."

"Tell me how!"

She flicked her gaze at him, annoyed. "No."

"You owe me an explanation."

Finishing the last stitch, Hermione tied it off and snipped the needle free. "I don't owe you anything."

"You splinched me!"

"You grabbed me!"

"Because you were trying to get away!"

"Because you're a Death Eater!"

He bared his teeth. "You don't know anything, Granger, so shut your mouth."

"You'd be surprised what I know, Malfoy." Hermione pulled back the sleeve of his hoodie and scoffed when seeing the Dark Mark. "You're a monster."

He batted her hand away and glared at her. "Takes one to know one, doesn't it? Don't think I haven't forgotten what you did to that man. Impaled him."

"You saw the smo...Forget it. You wouldn't understand." She placed a large chunk of gauze over Malfoy's injury and started wrapping up his lower thigh and upper knee.

"I don't know what I saw. All I know is that I've spent a year on this Redford case, and you come in and impale it! What the hell were you even doing there?"

"I'm not taking you back to Surrey. You're going to have to find your own way."

"To hell with Surrey, you locked me in a closet and killed Redford!"

"I didn't realize the police took up breaking in-and-entering."

"I had a warrant to search his place. You're the one who broke in."

"The door was unlocked. I broke nothing."

"You trespassed onto private property and completely botched my bonus!"

"Oh, not your bonus! And to think, Malfoy, you could've bought yourself a nice plot at one of the Magnificent Seven and perhaps a nice casket, too, because Redford would've torn you limb from limb."

To be continued...

A/N: Abrupt ending, I know. Sorry. At least it's not a super cliff-hanger.

I worked hard on Draco's intro, but I know it may not please everyone. If I do get negative feedback, I hope it's constructive. If you did like it, let me know you what you think. :)

Thank you readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have put this fic on their favorite list. I'm pleased with all the positivity this story has gotten.