Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to the Queen, J.K.

Beta Love: Dreamingofstars85

A/N: Guys! I am getting closer to my goal number of chapters ahead, so I'm hoping by the end of summer I will be back to posting weekly again! Fingers crossed! Anyway, so much love to all you beautiful souls!
Xoxo, L

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Enjoy My Scent, Woman!

Hermione heard Finn growl from the other side of the room. "You're getting better, witch, but it isn't enough, yet. Do you really think you are going to gain the Dark Lord's trust, not to mention the other Death Eater's, with a stupefy?"

Breathing hard, she ducked behind the crates. "Even if I use unforgivables, there is still no guarantee that they'll trust me!" Hermione jumped up and flung her wand in the area she now knew Finn was hiding. "Flipendo!"

She didn't stay standing long enough to watch the crates topple over, but hearing Finn grunt and hiss in pain let her know she had landed at least some of them on him. Crawling away from the crates she headed toward the wall where there was some cover behind an old desk, wincing every time she put weight on her left arm.

"We need to finish modifying that spell. Once we do that, it will all be easier—Reducto!"

Hermione scrambled away from the wall as the desk blew apart in front of her. She could feel blood running down her face, blurring her vision, but she kept moving. There was no way she was letting Finn win again. He would just use it as more proof that she needed to do the spell that he thought would help her cross over to the dark side, or whatever. She did not need more of that right now, so she had to win. She'd been trying to avoid talking about or researching the spell because, honestly, it frightened her.

Another blast exploded above her head bringing her back to reality and Hermione felt the rubble crashing down around her. Pushing to her feet, she sprinted for a bookshelf that was already on its side. Ducking behind it she strained her ears and tried to pinpoint where sounds were coming from. Whatever he had blasted apart just now was still falling, but across the room she could hear a scraping. Hermione risked a quick peek over the bookshelf and saw one of the crates moving.

She aimed her wand and shouted, "Confringo!" before ducking back down quickly to take cover.

"Expelliarmus! Levicorpus."

Hermione suddenly found herself upside down with no wand, one foot securely held up by Finn's jinx.

"Deception, doll. I know you like to think the best of the Order, but they won't always play fair, which means we can't train playing fair, either."

"Alright, you arse, you won. Can we dissect my failings when I'm vertical?" She was struggling to push her skirt up without success. It wasn't that she was overly uncomfortable being exposed as such—she'd been living with the man for nearly two months now—it was just that being hung upside down with your knickers showing for all the world to see felt completely vulnerable, and was his way of rubbing it in that he'd won. And that pissed her off.

A wicked grin spread across his face and Hermione quickly corrected herself.

"Vertical with my feet on the ground you brute!"

"Well that's all you had to say then," he said as he laughed and let her down. "Although, I personally find conversations of any sort are much better when knickers are on display." He laughed deeply and offered a hand to help her up.

Properly vertical, she straightened her skirts and held her hand out for her wand. Finn placed it in her hand but looked at her with a severe expression.

"Seriously, though. You can't let your guard down like that. You were easily distracted by the moving crate, and while you were, I was able to sneak around and disarm you from behind. Hermione your opponent isn't going to flip you upside down and compliment your knickers; you have to do better than this."

"No one in the Order would hurt me, Finn."

"Maybe not at first, but if you stay, their trust for you will only last so long. One day they won't see Hermione anymore, they'll just see another Death Eater."

"That won't—"

"If you want to make any headway here, that is exactly what you want to happen, as hard as it will be. You're still acting like you are going back to them, Hermione." Finn put a hand on her shoulder and the sympathy in his eyes was vexing. "Until this war is over, it's this or death, Hermione."

She impatiently shook his hand off and began walking toward the door. "Unless I make it out of here—escape."

His quiet "Yeah," was barely heard as she headed out of the room.

A few paces down the hall, Hermione looked back to Finn, watching as he shut the door of the training room they had just wrecked behind him. As she was turning back to head around the corner, she crashed into a solid body.

"Oh!" she gasped, quickly steadying herself and looking up to see who she ran into.

"I was wondering when I would see you again."

Years of ingrained politeness made sure that when the man held out his hand to shake, Hermione reached out as well. Although he didn't shake. Instead, he brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed softly, bowing slightly as he did.

"Antonin Dolohov, at your service." He smiled before releasing her hand and looking over her shoulder, his expression darkening somewhat. "Rowle, I'm surprised to be running into you this afternoon. I haven't seen much of you lately."

"I've been busy," Finn said as he came up behind Hermione, placing a possessive hand around her waist. Something in her gut made Hermione stay put rather than push away from the touch. It was rare for Finn to do much more than offer her his arm in public, nor was he ever possessive over her, especially since he knew—or at least had unconfirmed suspicions—about her and Draco, so an arm around her waist was an alarm bell to Hermione. This behaviour was something else entirely. This was a show, and Hermione instinctively knew to let it play out as he was leading.

She saw the slightest quirk of Dolohov's eyebrow before he schooled his expression, and deferred to Finn. "I can see that. I wasn't aware your babysitting gig involved so much bodily damage." He gestured to Hermione, who reached a hand up to wipe at the blood on her face. "I thought you were supposed to be taking care of her, not harming her."

"Training got a little rough today. She will be fine."

"I hope so. I don't think the Dark Lord would be too pleased if she were ruined, not to mention how her future suitors would feel."

Hermione fought back the bile rising in her throat. The man was talking about her as if she weren't standing right there next to him, and the way he said 'future suitors' sounded like he wanted to be said suitor. It was creepy and disgusting.

"I'm sure the Dark Lord would let me know if he had any issues with our training regime. As it stands, he's said nothing, so we will continue on until we're told otherwise." Finn's words were clipped and cold. It was clear he did not like the man standing in front of them, but Hermione wasn't sure why, even though she was inclined to feel the same.

"I wasn't aware that a lady needed to be learning battle tactics."

"A well-rounded background holds a certain advantage, especially in our line of work, wouldn't you say?"

"Not everyone needs a well-rounded background," Dolohov said as he sneered at Finn.

Hermione was incredibly uncomfortable and starting to worry about the direction of this conversation. Dolohov and Finn didn't seem to get along at all, and she could almost feel the tension between them, centring around her.

"If you have a problem, take it up with the Dark Lord. Otherwise, we best be on our way."

Dolohov's sneer only lifted once he turned back to Hermione. He reached out and took hold of her hand once more. Bowing down he placed another kiss on her skin, this time to her wrist, which gave Hermione the creepy chills. "My lady," he said as he stood back up, his eyes appraising her as though she were standing there for his pleasure alone. He let her hand go, which she immediately drew behind her back to rub surreptitiously at the spot his lips had touched. Straightening, Dolohov gave one last look at Hermione before turning to Finn.

"Rowle," he said, nodding once.

"Dolohov," Finn replied brusquely.

He kept his hand securely around Hermione's waist until Dolohov had disappeared down the hallway completely. When the man was finally out of sight, Finn turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that; I don't know what that was about," she said, still rubbing at her wrist. It felt dirty.

"You know who he is, right?"

Hermione turned to Finn and levelled him with quite possibly the most exasperated expression she had ever used—and that was saying a lot, coming from the girl who was best friends with Harry Potter.

She lifted the hem of her shirt enough to expose the still very purple, very visible scar that sat across her ribs, maring her skin. "Do you honestly think I could see this damn scar every day and forget the man who gave it to me?"

"Fine, fine." He laughed, seeming to let go of most of the tension that had built up during the interaction with Dolohov. Finn reached out and pushed her shirt back down, looking around the hallway. "Keep your clothes on, you harlot," he said, winking at her and offering his arm, which she took.

"You are ridiculous, you know that?" Hermione laughed as she let Finn lead her back toward their room.

"You do realise that if anyone saw that little display, there's a good chance they'd have us married by the new moon, right?"

"I'm sorry, what?" She giggled and made a face at him.

"You just showed much more skin than a lady would in the presence of a gentleman, which would lead onlookers to believe that there was more than friendship between us, and that would require an immediate union to preserve your delicate reputation."

Hermione stopped walking and turned to look at Finn. "I live with you. What does that do to my delicate reputation?"

"I never claimed that pureblood societal rules made any sense," he said, shrugging. "It's easier to ignore something that isn't seen."

"Good grief." She rolled her eyes and continued to their room, stopping to let Finn open the door for her. She walked through and to the little table, pouring drinks as she waited for him.

"Alright doll, let's see those wounds." Finn had shut the door and was walking toward where Hermione stood.

"I haven't even really seen this one yet," she said, raising her arm gingerly. "But you can start on my face. If Narcissa saw this she would have a hernia."

Finn laughed and walked toward the bedside table where he kept the potions and medkits. "Go ahead and take off your shirt before the blood dries—that would be a bitch to peel off."

Hermione was struggling to pull the shirt over her head without moving her injured arm too much when Finn returned.

"Stop, stop, stop, before you hurt yourself. Or, before you hurt yourself even more," he said, chuckling. "Hold still."

Hermione felt his hands work the hem of her shirt over her head and she winced as he gently tugged the long sleeve off of her injured arm, exposing a deep gash in the flesh of her bicep.

"That's a bit worse than I was expecting," Finn said as he tossed the ruined shirt aside.

"Well, it's not like you were playing easy. Plus, I'm not sure if you noticed, but it looks like I got you pretty good, too." Hermione gestured to the line of blood leaking through his shirt at the shoulder and sipped at her firewhisky.

He glanced down at the stain and rolled his eyes. "That's nothing," he said, taking her glass from her and drinking, rather than reaching for his own.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, you might as well let me heal it before it becomes something. Besides, I just like to use my wand," she said, smirking as she tugged the collar of his shirt slightly to get a better look at the wound. When she couldn't pull the neck down far enough to get a good look, she waved her hands. "Take that off and give me back my drink."

Finn handed her the glass and made a teasing expression before he playfully said, "Hermione the Harlot, disrobing gentleman for her pleasure seeking—"

"Finn, you creep, shut up! Just take off your shirt and let me see that cut!" Hermione laughed as he proceeded to playfully strip the shirt off, rolling her eyes when he threw it and landed it on her head. "This is repulsive. It smells like sweat and blood, you know that, right?"

"Enjoy my scent, woman!" Finn said theatrically, taking the shirt from her hands and walking it to the clothes basket.

"You are ridiculous, and absurd, and inappropriate—" Hermione gasped dramatically, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. "Thorfinn Rowle, what would they say if they saw us now, huh? Are we to be married by the new moon, then?"

"Oh, Merlin, I hope not. As lovely as you are, I'm not ready for babies, and that's as high as your training ranks you currently. You have a very qualified womb, Miss Granger," Finn said as he bowed to her.

She giggled, clutching at her stomach. "Oh, bugger off, you. Leave me and my overqualified womb alone!" Hermione was still laughing when he sauntered back over to her with the medkit and a fresh bottle of firewhisky. The one on the table was nearly empty.

She was perched on the table, so Finn set the kit down in her lap, giving him free hands to uncap the bottle. He took a long swig and then filled her glass. She was getting quite used to drinking firewhisky, and, though she wouldn't admit it, found she was becoming fond of the taste, as well as the effects of the drink. It really did take the edge off of everything; it let her forget for just a few moments what exactly she was doing here.

Feeling cheeky, Hermione took the bottle from Finn and, in a very unladylike manner, matched his guzzle before placing the bottle back on the table. "Alright, let me see that shoulder, then." She reached out and pushed his body so that he turned, bringing the wound closer to her, then reached into the bag on her lap. Hermione pulled out the Dittany and handed it to Finn. She muttered a healing spell, and watched the cut begin to stitch itself back together. After it was closed, she held out her hand, into which Finn placed the now open phial. "A few drops of this, and… there," she said smiling. "Good as new."

"Thanks, doll," he said as he worked his shoulder in a circle.

"Your turn, close your eyes."

Hermione did as he asked and heard him whisper, "Tergeo."

"What was that between you and Dolohov?" she asked as she opened her eyes and watched him work on her head, healing the wound there.

"He's just mad I got this job is all."

"What do you mean?"

"He nearly begged the Dark Lord let him be the one to train and babysit you." Finn shrugged before applying the Dittany to her head. "He has this fascination with you because you're the only one who's survived that curse of his."

"That's…creepy." Involuntary shudders crept down her body.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was first in line for your hand when the time comes."

"Eww." Hermione cringed at the thought.

"Yeah, well, let's just make sure you're enough of an asset that when the time comes, you'll get a choice."

Hermione groaned, not wanting to think about that. "I hate this," she said quietly.

"I know," Finn replied. "Shall I?" He gestured to her arm, which was still bleeding.

Ignoring her glass, Hermione took another long drink from the bottle, sighing as the liquid warmed her throat. She nodded, turning slightly to give him better access to her arm.

Finn lifted his wand but was interrupted before he could begin by a rapid succession of knocks on the door. He looked at Hermione, but she just shrugged and took another drink from the bottle.

"You better slow down, witch. You've got tea bright and early with Narcissa tomorrow. It's a lot brighter, and a lot earlier, when you're hungover," he said with a laugh as he sauntered away.

She rolled her eyes and watched him open the door a crack to see who was there, taking another sip of the firewhisky.

She wasn't really expecting anyone in particular, but the voice she heard on the other side of the door had her choking on her drink.

She hurriedly set the bottle back on the table and jumped down, landing wobbly on her feet, just in time to see a familiar face walk into the room. Hermione smiled brightly, completely forgetting her state of undress, as well as the gaping wound still bleeding on her arm.

She didn't even have a chance to cross the room before Draco turned to Finn, growled "What the fuck?" and punched the man solidly in the jaw.

xXxXxXx

"Draco! What the hell was that for?" Hermione shouted as Finn fell backwards from the force of the unexpected blow.

"I could ask you the same thing. I've been worried sick about you for weeks, and you've apparently been perfectly fine here with him," he spat, gesturing angrily to Finn.

"Wait, wait, wait. What?" She was trying to understand what was happening, but the firewhisky was apparently slowing her mental processing capabilities.

"You and fucking Rowle, that's what!" He shouted, turning for the door.

It finally clicked, and Hermione reached out, grabbing his arm before he could leave. "Draco, no," she said, letting out a short laugh. "Finn and I—just, no." She shook her head and waved off the notion. "Do you even see my arm?"

Draco stopped, apparently taking in her injury for the first time. "Merlin's sack, what the fuck happened?"

"Training, you prick," Finn said from the floor. "Now help me up and fix my face."

Draco looked confused and still a little pissed, but held out a hand and helped Finn to his feet.

"Hermione, doll," Finn said, grabbing her attention.

"What?"

"I am all for feminism and lady rights, but clothes may be appropriate just now."

Hermione looked down and gasped, having forgotten she wasn't wearing a shirt. She covered herself as her cheeks reddened. Finn winked at her and manoeuvred himself, then shoved Draco so his back was facing the dresser. Hermione scrambled over and pulled open the first drawer, figuring it would be easier to throw on one of Finn's t-shirts— even if it was way too big—than finding something of her own. She could hear Draco muttering healing spells, and when she turned back around—now properly covered—Finn looked brand new again.

Biting her lip, she walked, a bit unsteadily, to the bed next to where the boys were standing.

"Hi," she said quietly, looking up at Draco.

"Explain," he said, pointing a finger between herself and Finn. "Because whatever I just walked in on was not any kind of duelling I've ever been apart of."

xXxXxXx