The next morning when I went down to the potions lab to meet Severus, I was practically skipping.

"Draco and Daphne will defect! Narcissa too!" I explained, "Can we hide them?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "Draco's willing to leave his father?"

I shrugged, "Love."

"Alright," Severus said simply, "I'll arrange it. Now get back to that slow-acting venom you started yesterday. I have to travel this week, so you'll be left to finish it alone."

I turned my back to hide a smile. It was an undeniable compliment that Severus believed I could finish this tricky, complex potion alone.

"Anything else you'd like me to work on?" I asked.

Severus didn't answer immediately, as he was occupied in delicately removing the eyes of a lion-fish. That completed, he grunted, "Rowle."

I groaned. "He hates me," I protested petulantly, "he harassed me all through my first and second years. He lit my hair on fire once."

Severus smirked, "You could have stood to lose some."

I flicked a salmon spleen at his head, and he vaporized it with his wand.

"I suspect his father may have something to do with the location of the last Horcrux."

"Any idea what?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you to find out."

I narrowed my eyes. "Fine," I sulked, "When will I even see him?"

"He's coming to dinner tomorrow night. He and Lestrange are supposed to go nogtail hunting tomorrow morning."

"And I'm supposed to what?" I demanded, "Lure him into the bathroom and fuck him while my husband drinks whiskey in the next room over?"

Severus grimaced. I always forgot how uncomfortable he felt about asking me to do this. I smiled,

"Oh come on, Severus. If I have to do this I at least deserve to joke about it a bit."

"As you wish," said Severus stiffly.

"So," I prompted with a dramatic roll of my eyes, which I was pleased to hear cause Severus to grind his teeth, "Any ideas on how I'm supposed to pull this off exactly?"

"I can get Dolohov out of the way for you. I'm to be looking for werewolf clans who haven't yet aligned themselves this week, and I can ask him to come with me for backup."

I nodded, "That will help a bit. I'll work out the rest I suppose."

Snape grimaced, "No details please."

That night at dinner, the party ended up being quite small. It was only myself, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Rowle. The meal was awkward to say the least. It appeared that Bellatrix and Rowle despised each other, for reasons that neither seemed eager to talk about. They spent the meal throwing increasingly pointed barbs at each other, and Bellatrix ended up drinking herself into such a stupor that she set fire to the dinner table before the pudding came out.

Rodolphus apologized profusely to the both of us as he dragged her off to bed, still screaming, "You horrendous little half-troll!".

Rowle and I finished our dinner in silence. His knuckles were white on his knife and fork, and a muscle in his jaw was twitching. I subtly turned up the pheromones just a tad before taking a deep breath and breaking the silence as the pudding disappeared,

"So what in the world happened between you two?"

"That story would take hours," Rowle growled.

"I've got time," I offered, "And there's some lovely elf-made whiskey in the salon."

Rowle raised an eye at me, "Why the fuck do you want to talk to me? I was nothing but an asshole to you in school."

I shrugged, barely restraining myself from snapping that there was nothing I wanted less, "As you can see, my circumstances have changed a bit. To be honest I'm somewhat starved for company."

"Fine," growled Rowle, "But just for the whiskey."

I nodded and stood languidly, letting my hips swing a little more in my skin-tight robes as I led the way into the salon. I settled myself onto a love seat by the fire and gestured with a nod for Rowle to sit by me.

I picked up the whiskey off of the side table, not so accidentally brushing my arm against his. I poured us both a healthy dose and leaned back, resting my head on the back of the couch and letting my eyes drift shut. I suspected Rowle was the type that would get defensive if he felt he was being chased.

I breathed deeply and enjoyed the warmth of the whiskey and the fire. After a moment, Rowle broke the silence,

"She fucked my sister."

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't been expecting that one, "And?" I asked.

"What do you mean and?" he demanded angrily.

"Well what's the problem?" I asked in a relaxed voice, refusing to rise to his anger.

"The kid got attached," he growled. "She was only sixteen. Thought it was true love. I guess Bella had promised to leave Rodolphus for her. All bullshit of course. I told her to leave it alone, but of course that only made her more determined. That sick fuck enjoyed playing her."

I opened my eyes and shifted so I could look at him head on. The way the words were tumbling out, I wondered if Rowle had ever talked about this before.

"I guess Emma had sent her some compromising photos. Once Bella got bored of her she dropped her like a rock and shared the photos with all of her sick Death Eater buddies. Emma was so upset and betrayed she had a mental breakdown. Went totally berserk and ran into the battle of Hogwarts alone, an emotional wreck. We only ever found pieces."

My eyes filled with tears, but I knew that the last thing Rowle needed was to comfort me. Instead, I just laid my head on his shoulder and twined my hand in his. I felt guilt twist my stomach that he had shared something so deep and personal with me, and I was getting ready to play him. It's so much worse whenever I'm reminded that the bad guys are people too.

Rowle's breath hitched, and I suspected that he was on the verge of tears. I didn't move, and he gradually got himself under control. Finally I sat up and refilled our whiskeys, gesturing at him to drink.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"What, not going to kick me when I'm down?" he tried to joke.

"Not really my style," I replied with a small smile.

Rowle cocked his head at me, "What is?" he asked with a tone of genuine curiosity, looking at me like an animal in the magical menagerie that had just manifested a weird power.

I leaned up and cupped his stubbly cheek in my hand. His eyes widened but he didn't pull away as I lightly kissed him.

I pulled back and dropped my gaze,

"Sorry," I said after a moment, "I shouldn't have-"

But before I could say more, Rowle fisted his hand in my hair and kissed me hard. He pulled back for a moment to cast a locking charm on the door, then pulled me into his lap. I straddled him, letting my robes ride up my legs. He ran his rough palms up my thighs and cupped my ass, pulling me closer to him.

He stroked his broad hands down my back, kissing and biting the column of my neck. I moaned and ground myself against him.

"I can't believe I'm getting one over on Dolohov," Rowle laughed against my neck. I felt a sudden stab of anger, but forced it back down.

Just focus on how your body feels, I coached myself, let the other stuff go.

I pulled his robes open and ran my hands down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles under my hands. He pulled the neck of my robes open, palming my breasts. His eyes were blazing, and he put his hand behind my back, forcing me to arch my breasts up towards his mouth. He bit lightly on a nipple and I gasped.

"Yes," I groaned. I stood up and let my robes slide off of my shoulders, leaving myself standing before him in only my lacy, cream undergarments. Rowle grabbed my hip and pulled me towards him, kissing my stomach.

"Beautiful," he groaned. I reached a hand behind me and let my bra fall to the floor. Rowle hooked two fingers in my underwear and slid them down my legs. He snaked a hand behind my knee and drew it up on to the couch, so that my exposed pussy was level with his face.

He leaned forward and licked slowly up my slit. I groaned at the feeling, relishing the gentle touch and the scratch of his stubble against my thighs. He licked up my slit again, pausing to suck at my clit. I forgot how exposed I felt as I threw my hand back and moaned. I could feel my legs quaking, but Rowle's hand cupped my ass, keeping me in place. I placed a hand on his shoulder, intending to sink back down onto his lap, but to my surprise he stood up and pushed me down on the couch, face first. I could feel the heat of the fire on my dripping pussy and the back of my legs, and I shivered as Rowle languidly ran a hand down my spine.

I felt his hard cock and my entrance and ground back against him, arching my back and clinging to the back of the couch. He sunk slowly into me, and I whimpered as I felt him fill me up. He pulled back and ground slowly into me again. I tried to push back against him, desperate for him to go faster, but Rowle was clearly enjoying staying in control. His grip on my hip was iron, and I idly hoped the bruises would heal before I got intimate with Antonin again. With a start, I remembered I wasn't just here for fun. I shut my eyes and delved into his mind.

Emma's face swam before me, her face dirty and streaked with tears. Rowle called out to her, but she turned and ran into the chaos of the battle.

Rowle rocked against me, his pace still infuriatingly slow.

Rowle held his screaming mother as Antonin covered up something on the ground behind him, among the post-battle rubble.

He finally started thrusting faster, giving me a smack on the ass. I squeaked with surprise, which turned into a moan as he slammed into me again.

Rowle's father led a 10-year old him deep into a cave in Scotland. "This place is full of old magic," he told his son reverently, "It is our heritage, and our family's sacred duty to defend it."

Rowle leaned back, changing the angle and hitting a spot inside me that made me see stars. "Gods, yes!" I whimpered quietly, well aware that the room wasn't soundproofed.

"You can't let the Dark Lord defile our family's sacred cairn," Rowle's mother snapped, "It is our bloodline's legacy. The seat of our power. Of YOUR power."

With a start, I realized that I was coming hard on Rowle's cock. I felt my pussy pulse around him as he ground into me, riding out the orgasm with me. Once I fell limply on to the couch in front of me, he pulled out and sat beside me. He pulled me on to his lap and kissed me deeply. I could feel his hard cock against the sensitive skin of my slit. He gently lifted me up and lifted me on to his cock.

"Ride me, little bookworm," he growled in my ear, "Nice and slow."

I obliged and bounced up and down on his cock, tipping my head back and letting my breasts bounce. He palmed them with a groan and lightly guided me. I reached behind my back and fondled his tightening balls, suddenly wanting to feel him come inside me. Rowle growled, and I could feel his legs tense under me. I felt almost giddy with the pleasure and the power of control (and maybe the whiskey). Suddenly Rowle was coming, and I dropped my head against his shoulder and rocked against him, loving the feel of his warm seed inside me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, Rowle carding his hand through my hair. Finally, Rowle reached for his wand and cast cleaning and contraceptive charms. I slid off his lap, and reached for my glass of whiskey. I swallowed the last mouthful, and then dressed myself slowly. Strangely, I didn't feel any awkwardness or embarrassment at what I'd just done with my old school rival. I suppose it helped that he had bared himself to me in a way more personal way. My clothes re-arranged, I leaned forward and lightly kissed Rowle, who still hadn't moved a muscle.

"Goodnight," I said quietly. He didn't respond, and I turned and made for the door. As I shut it behind me, I heard him whisper,

"Goodnight Hermione."