A/N: Written for the Farewell to Summer 31 Flavors of Smut Fest in 2020. We were given a trope, a kink, and a Baskin Robbins ice cream flavor. Mine were Enemies to Lovers, spanking, and Daiquiri Ice. Many thanks to my beta, Fae Orabel, for her attention to detail. Thank you! And for being one of the mods running this amazing fest! Thanks to her and the rest of the mods for hosting! This was so much fun!

If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! I made a manip for this, you can find it on my Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or find me on Facebook at Shan Crochetaway

Summary: Found in the middle of a war he didn't believe in, drawn to Hermione Granger, Undesirable Number Two, Thorfinn Rowle does what he has to in order to survive until he can't do it anymore.

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle

Rating: M

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Spanking, Explicit Sexual Content

Defect

"Damnit Granger," Thorfinn hissed as the witch once again eluded capture. She was considered Undesirable Number Two and was a high-priority capture. Thorfinn had almost had her four times, and yet, every time he was about to spring his trap, she found a way out and escaped.

It was maddening. It was infuriating. And if Thorfinn thought about it too much, it was fucking hot as hell. It didn't hurt that Granger had grown up quite a bit since he knew her at Hogwarts. It was too damned bad they had ended up on opposite sides in this bloody war. The longer things went, however, the more Thorfinn was starting to feel like he may have chosen the wrong side. Although, that in itself implied he had a choice. And he bloody well did not.

His father yanked him from his spot on the Pride of Portree when the Ministry fell and the war began in earnest. Not that the Quidditch leagues lasted much longer after that, but still. It was the principle of the thing. Thorfinn was off living his own life, and bam, just like that, he was back living at home and being forced to take the bloody Dark Mark. Worst of all, Thorfinn was damned good at what he does for the Death Eaters.

The Dark Lord considered him one of his favorites. It should sicken Thorfinn. Logically, he knew this but considering his upbringing, any amount of praise, from anyone, was how he found validation. And the Dark Lord had somehow figured this out. Thorfinn wanted to hate him for it, and some part of him did, but he also found himself in some sick, symbiotic relationship with the Dark Lord. It scared him, somedays. Especially a day like today. He knew he was in for punishment once the Dark Lord had observed his memories. And all he could think was that he deserved it.

"Thorfinn," the Dark Lord's voice was low as he called him forward from the crowd of Death Eaters who had gathered after the raid.

"My lord," Thorfinn knelt before him, eyes to the floor, knowing it was only a matter of time until the Dark Lord invaded his mind, and then tortured him for failing to catch Granger yet again.

A pale, white hand reached out and lifted Thorfinn's chin. The Dark Lord hated when his followers shivered when he touched them, so Thorfinn had learned fairly quickly to suppress that reaction. It had been hard as the Dark Lord was always unnaturally cold. He met the red gaze of his master and gritted his teeth as the Dark Lord slid inside his mind.

He played the memory of Thorfinn failing to catch Granger three times before he let him go. Instead of the immediate punishment Thorfinn expected, the Dark Lord hummed.

Would he be killed? Was this failure the last one? The questions swirled in Thorfinn's mind as the Dark Lord stared down at him.

"There's something there…" he said, "I can feel it at the edge of your memory. What were you feeling when Granger got away?"

Breaths were sucked in behind him as the Dark Lord mentioned Undesirable Number Two by name. Usually any talk of Potter, Granger, or Weasley made the Dark Lord incandescent with rage, but not this time. This time, he was almost thoughtful. Thorfinn didn't know how to answer the Dark Lord's question. Should he lie? Or tell the Dark Lord he found Granger attractive? Which was the least likely to result in his death? That was a question he was used to asking himself.

"Attraction," he grunted. His heart twisted. He hoped this didn't sign his death warrant.

"Despite being a Mudblood?" the Dark Lord asked.

It was too late, Thorfinn was in it now; he would just have to brazen through. "She's still got tits," he said with a slight shrug.

Muted laughter came from behind him.

A small smile curved up on the Dark Lord's pale, reptilian face. "Yes, she does. I want you to get close to her. I want you to attempt to lure her to our side."

"My lord?" he asked, looking up at the Dark Lord again.

"Yes," he nodded decisively. "Yes, I want you to try and lure her to us, Thorfinn. She would be a good asset for us; Harry Potter's best friend. Capture and kill hasn't been working thus far, perhaps seduction will."

"And will you be sending someone out to seduce Potter and Weasley?" Bellatrix asked, stepping forward from the line of senior Death Eaters.

"Of course not, they aren't witches. They are much less likely to fall for a false seduction. Granger, though, she is ripe for the picking."

A chill traveled down Thorfinn's spine. He had never refused an order from the Dark Lord before. To do so was death. But this one, this was one he never wanted to take on. Perhaps he could warn her. He didn't buy into the Dark Lord's theory that she was seducable because she was a witch, but if he did manage to get close to her, to get her to trust him even a little bit, he could warn her away from the Dark Lord's plan.

"Of course, my lord," he said quickly, accepting the assignment. He didn't want someone else to be offered this chance. Granger was his.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Rowle," Granger said as he had her backed up against a wall. She didn't have a wand in sight; he had taken hers earlier in the fight.

"You're mine this time," Thorfinn promised her, wrapping an arm around her waist and yanking her to him.

"I don't know," she said, tapping her chin with her finger, a smirk firmly planted on her face. He didn't even think her heart rate was elevated with as cool as she was acting. The stench of spell fire was all around them, and he could hear the fight going on in the rest of the safe house. The kicker was that it was a Death Eater safe house, not an Order one. Somehow, they had gotten hold of Death Eater plans and were going on the attack for the first time. "I might have a trick or two up my sleeve yet."

"There are anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards up, Granger. You aren't going anywhere," he assured her, pulling her even closer to him.

"Rowle, you're acting like a scorned lover, not an enemy," she smirked at him and did a little shimmy that had his cock suddenly start paying attention.

"Stop that," he demanded as he began pushing her out in front of him. He needed to get past the wards to take her back to his house.

"I don't know what kind of witch you take me for, but I'm definitely not the kind who goes home on the first date," she said, winking at him. He had never wanted to kiss someone so much as he did with her. With another quick smirk, she ducked under his arm, twisting out of his hold and bolted back through the house.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he gave chase. But she disappeared along with the rest of the Order. The safe house wasn't safe anymore, and two Death Eaters were dead.

The Dark Lord was going to be pissed.

The next time he ran into Granger was in a full-on battle in the middle of a field in Sussex. He wasn't even sure why they were there, but somehow a group of Order people had run into some Death Eaters. Reinforcements were called and here they were, in an unplanned battle, fighting for their lives.

The Order was giving them a run for their money, and not for the first time, did Thorfinn think that perhaps he was on the wrong side of this conflict. It was too late to change things now, though. Now, he just had to survive—make it to the other side of this battle. He blasted and whirled, pointing his wand at the next enemy only to come face-to-face with Granger. They were kind of off to the side of the main battle, nobody was close to them, and Thorfinn found himself lowering his wand on instinct. She lowered hers, too, and cocked her head to the side.

"Why do we keep finding each other?" her voice and face were serious for possibly the first time.

"I don't know," he said, walking closer to her. She didn't back away. She didn't raise her wand. She took a step closer to him until they were standing in each other's air. Her hair was tied up in a messy knot on the top of her head, and Thorfinn reached out a hand, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. He expected her to flinch when he raised his hand. She should have flinched, but she didn't. She didn't even watch his movements, for her eyes were focused solely on his. In the dying sunlight, he could see that her irises weren't a dull, muddy brown, but a brilliant chestnut, shot through with gold. They were warm like a lover's welcome where he expected them to be cold.

"Do you feel it, too?" she asked in a whisper. He could barely hear her over the sound of spells clashing and the grunting of the combatants.

"The pull to you," Thorfinn responded with a nod.

"Yes," she replied emphatically. "Yes, that's exactly it, it's like a pull that drives me toward you every time we're near."

"Then why do you keep running?" His hand slid down her shoulder, down her arm until their fingers were clenched together. He almost didn't even realize he did it.

"Because you're my enemy," she responded seriously.

"I don't want to be," he admitted, knowing he was going to have to Occlude the hell out of this memory later. Maybe Antonin would help him hide it. She sucked in a sharp breath at his words, and Thorfinn felt a tingle go through his body. It almost felt like magic.

"What is this?" she shook her head and tightened her grip on her wand, pulling her hand from his. "We can't be doing this. This isn't for us."

"It could be," Thorfinn insisted. "It could be for us, if you want it to be."

"We can't," she said firmly and cast a Jelly Legs Jinx at him. He stumbled to his knees, but before he was able to remove the jinx, she was gone. She and the rest of the Order disappeared just like they had before. Despite the anti-Apparition wards, despite the anti-Portkey wards, it appeared the Order had created some sort of new traveling spell.

Thorfinn tracked Granger down to her own safe house. It had taken all the ingenuity he possessed, but he had finally done it. Found the thread of her magic amongst all the other threads in that crowded field months ago. Once he felt attuned to it, it was easy to pick up and find other places. If this thing, whatever it was, wasn't between them, he didn't think that he could have done it. But there was this thing, this connection between the two of them, and he was motivated as hell.

It wasn't Voldemort's command that had him motivated. It was the decision he had made after he'd last seen her. She looked amazing on the battlefield, her hair flying behind her, her wand arm strong and confident as she cast, her body lithe as she dodged and blocked. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Thorfinn decided right then and there he never wanted to be on the opposite side of her wand again. No, the next time they battled, he wanted to be standing next to her. He wasn't deluded though, Granger was never going to turn dark. Not ever. She was still Harry Potter's best friend. Nothing would, or could, change that. So, if he was going to fight alongside her, he was going to have to defect.

There was only one person that Thorfinn would give himself up to, and he had just spent months tracking her down. Finally, finally, he had her in one location and judging by the lack of other magical signatures in the area, she was alone.

Even knowing she had some way out of it, he still cast anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards around her house. Then, immediately knocked on the door. She would have felt the magic through her own wards, so he didn't want to give her a chance to go on the offensive.

She opened the door with her wand pointed at him. He didn't even give her a chance to say anything, just pushed past her and shut the door. She backed up quickly, her wand dropping to her side, but a wary look on her face. She was in some sort of tight, black trousers and a grey, baggy jumper that hung off one shoulder. She looked delectable.

"Alone, Granger?" he asked, taking a peek into the sitting room off to the side. A lone container of Daiquiri Ice sat on the coffee table. A flickering box was on the opposite wall that Thorfinn thought might be a television, if he was recalling his Muggle Studies class correctly.

"You know I am," she said huffily. "What are you doing here, Rowle?"

He eyed the container of ice cream again, it looked rather tempting, so he ignored her and sat down on her couch. He picked up the tub of ice cream and took a bite, the sweet flavor exploded across his tongue. "This is good," he mumbled around another bite.

Hermione propped her shoulder on the doorway of the living room and looked at him sardonically. "I know, that's why I bought it. You didn't answer my question."

Leaning back on the couch, he propped his feet up on the coffee table, smirking when she grimaced at the sight of his boots. "I want to defect," he said, taking another bite of ice cream.

"You want to what?" She shook her head as if she couldn't have possibly heard him correctly.

"I want to defect," he said, clearly annunciating each word. "I no longer wish to serve the Dark Lord. I'd like to be part of your Order-thingy."

Her jaw dropped. She stood staring at him for a long moment, before she began casting detection charms.

"I came alone," he said around another bite of ice cream. The container was half gone already. "Want some?" he offered her the spoon and she shook her head, dropping her wand at last.

"Why?"

"It's come to my attention that I may be on the wrong side of this conflict," he said with a shrug.

"So that's it? You just don't want to be a loser?" she asked. Her voice was harsh and bitter making Thorfinn frown. He didn't like that sound coming from her.

"What else should there be?" He peered at her over the tub of ice cream. It was clear to him she wanted some sort of admission out of him, but he had no idea what.

"The Order of the Phoenix is not just opposed to fighting the Dark Lord and his forces," she snapped. Her brows drew together sharply, and Thorfinn found himself settling in. She looked like she was getting ready to lecture him. She had no idea how arousing that idea was for him. "They stand for diversity in the wizarding world, and undoing the prejudices currently enforced in wizarding society. Most importantly, they are vehemently against eradicating Muggle-borns! And we want peace, peace to live our lives and not be murdered in our beds by psychopaths."

"I want all those things, too," Thorfinn said when she was taking a breath.

"And we wa—" she cut herself off when she finally comprehended his words, "what? You do? Why? What's changed?" Then she pointed her wand at him. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Thorfinn Rowle, at your service," he said, with a mock little bow of his head. "And yes, I want those things too. Mostly peace, though. I don't want to fight a bloody war. I've never wanted to fight a war. It wasn't my idea to become a Death Eater. I was coerced into it by my dearly, departed father. Now that he's dead—give my thanks to the Order and that surprise field battle a few months ago, by the way—I have nothing tying me to the Death Eaters."

"Except that mark on your arm," she said, lowering her wand once more.

"I'll take Veritaserum if you'd like," he offered, finishing off the last of her ice cream and setting it aside.

"I have no idea what to do with this—you," she said, indicating him.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," Thorfinn replied, patting the sofa next to him.

She laughed, then looked startled that he had gotten her to laugh.

Granger had kicked him out that night after a couple of hours. But Throfinn kept going back to her house. It started as once a week, he would show up. Then a few times a week. Until finally, he was there almost daily. He hadn't fully defected; he couldn't with the Dark Mark on his arm. Everytime he was summoned, he had to go. He supposed he could have stopped attending the Dark Lord, but Granger didn't want that, and he was quickly finding out that Granger pretty much always got what she wanted.

It shocked Thorfinn when he figured out that he liked giving Granger what she wanted. The satisfaction that filled him when she gave that little half-smile that meant she was pleased should have been abhorrent, but it wasn't. Not even a little abhorrent. Their strange little battlefield connection only continued to grow, and it wasn't long before Thorfinn was wondering what her lips would taste like. Bergamot like the tea she drank almost constantly? Or would he taste the peppermint of her chapstick? Or maybe the sweetness of her favorite ice cream, Daiquiri Ice, that she kept stocked in her house at all times? The possibilities were endless.

"Are you listening to me, Rowle?" she asked, breaking through his daydream.

"No," he admitted, giving her a sheepish smile. "No, I definitely wasn't listening to you."

"What were you doing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. If she had been standing, he was sure she would have planted her balled fists on her hips.

"I was wondering what you tasted like, Granger."

"What?" she spluttered, pulling back. They were sitting on her sofa and he leaned over her.

"Your lips, I was pondering what they might taste like," he murmured, his mouth just inches away from hers.

"Why?" she asked. The question almost broke his heart, because in that one word he could hear every rejection she had ever faced, each insult to her person, each time some boy— some child—made fun of her appearance. It all resonated in that one, tiny, whispered word.

Instead of answering her, he slid one hand to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed just as he pressed his lips to hers for the first time. She exhaled a long, "Oh," into his mouth. He swallowed it back and moved his lips over hers. She tasted like Bergamot, and peppermint, and a dash of Daiquiri Ice, and something that was entirely Hermione Granger. It was the best thing Thorfinn had ever tasted in his life.

Her hands clutched his shoulders as he pressed her further into the sofa. She moaned and drew him closer when he trailed his mouth across her jaw and down her throat. When she nipped his ear lobe, and he shivered, the connection between them thrummed.

"Rowle," she gasped when he shoved a rough hand up her jumper and cupped her breast through her bra. He thumbed her nipple, and she practically jackknifed off of the sofa, pressing her chest into his hand.

She pulled back after a long moment, her eyes peering into his as if judging his worth. He hoped, he prayed to a God he didn't believe in, that she didn't find him wanting. Wiggling out of his embrace, she stood and held out her hand. Silently, she led him out of the sitting room and down a short hallway to her bedroom.

In his head, Thorfinn was thanking every God, Goddess, and deity there ever was. When she turned back toward him and lifted her jumper over her head, he couldn't stand it any longer so he was on her. His hands were everywhere, trying to learn every inch of her, memorize every dip and valley of her body, feel every stretch of smooth skin. The moment they were both naked, he pushed her to the bed, flipping her so she was on her hands and knees. Thorfinn was worried that if he faced her this would stop being about the sex and be about something entirely else. He wasn't sure either of them were ready for that. He knew that Granger wasn't. She wasn't ready to admit what she felt for him, and even if he thought he might be able to handle it, he wasn't about to push that onto her.

Running his hands along her backside, he swallowed hard and tried to refocus his thoughts on the beautiful witch before him. Her skin practically glowed in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Rowle," she growled, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Impatient, are we?" he gave her gorgeous round arse a light slap and she moaned, pushing her bum back toward him.

"Rowle, please," she pushed her bum further back and he couldn't stop himself from grasping her hips and rocking his cock along her cleft.

"Did you like that?" he asked. "When I spanked your arse? Did that turn you on, Granger?"

She groaned, dropping her head to the bed and arching her back farther. He assumed that was a yes and spanked her again. Her answering moan was like a lightning rod to his cock. It jumped to attention, twitching against the skin of her arse. He took a step back, if she wanted to be spanked, he didn't want it to be over too early for her. Just to make sure he wasn't completely off track, he slipped a hand between her legs.

"Oh, oh fuck," he muttered. She was positively sopping wet.

"Please," she said again, her voice creeping into a whine. He wanted to taste her, to feast on her, but she seemed like she might need this more than his mouth on her cunt, so he spanked her again, and again. He alternated cheeks, spanked high, almost on her back. He spanked low, near her thighs, and when she arched so beautifully, he spanked her right on her pretty, soaking wet, cunt.

She keened then, and Rowle couldn't stop himself, he slipped inside her. Her cunt encased his cock in a hot, wet sheath. He almost saw stars from how tight she was. And then she came all over him, gripping him tightly, trying to milk him, but he wasn't ready for that. He didn't just spank her, get her all worked up and ready to come, just to be a one-pump-chump.

Gritting his teeth, he waited her orgasm out, when she practically fell to the bed before him, he gave her a nudge and kneeled behind her. She arched her back, pushing her bum into him, which he took as his signal to move. Pulling back out, he slid his hand down the reddened flesh of her arse, and she whimpered in response. He pushed back in, sinking somehow deeper yet and her elbows collapsed, her face pushed fully into the mattress.

Thorfinn wrapped an arm around her waist, yanking her closer to him and lifting. She understood what he meant and pushed off the bed, soon her back was against his chest and he thrust into her from underneath, one arm clamped tightly around her waist, the other he slid down her chest and thumbed one of her nipples.

"Fucking perfect," he growled into her ear, setting a rhythm that he was hoping he could sustain for a bit, even as her cunt began to flutter again.

"What is?" she asked breathlessly, her head lolled onto his shoulder, her hands braced on her thighs as she moved her hips over him.

"You are. Being in my arms like this, your cunt was made for my cock, your tits for my hands," he demonstrated by cupping them both, pulling both her nipples at once. She cried out as another orgasm rippled through her body. This one, Thorfinn allowed to pull his own climax forward. A tell-tale tingling began at the base of his spine, and he clamped both hands on her hips as his pace became positively frenetic. Her cunt stopped clenching around him just as he began spurting his seed as deep inside her as he could reach. He grunted into her neck, relishing the feel of her against him, her skin pressed to his, her hair tickling his nose.

Later, she finally agreed to letting him defect permanently. Telling him she'd been working on a potion for his Dark Mark. A numbing agent, so he could finally ignore summons from the Dark Lord.

"The Final Battle is in a week, and we need every wand we can get," she told him when he asked her why now.

~Finn~