Title: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

Author: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

Pairing: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

Disclaimer: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

Synopsis: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

Rating: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

A/N's: Alright – just so every one knows– I am also working on the final chapter of Trading Spaces. It is coming. Soon. Before the 4th of July, I promise! BTW, if you'd like a copy of my playlist (sort of an unofficial soundtrack for the story) let me know, but you must, must listen to Marcy Playground's "Coming up from behind" when thinking about Bane. You can find it on Youtube.

Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Hermione sat at the Head Table, next to Severus, shifting restlessly in her heels, nervously fidgeting with the puffy black tulle skirt. Her wild curls were restrained, pulled tightly to the top of her head, with only a few renegades grazing her face. She had to admit, Severus looked damn good in a tux, and since she had convinced him to cut his hair, well, she wasn't the only former student looking at the retired professor.

The band was playing something low, rhythmic, and aching. It only increased the sense of tension that had crept into her neck. She sipped her wine, determined to let go of whatever was nagging at her brain.

"Stop thinking, luv," Severus whispered, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. "What is it? Too many people?"

"Yes. No. I'm – not sure." Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that a storm was coming. Her eyes sought out Draco, his platinum blond hair an easy target to seek. He too did wonderful things to a tuxedo. Tonight, he looked like Draco of old, in his element around rich and important people, born to charm with a silvered tongue slicker than his father's. She wasn't sure what had occurred out on the Quidditch field after the match, but for a moment, Draco had appeared to turn pale, before quitting the pitch without a word.

Now, as Hermione scanned the room, she noticed the space between Draco and Harry, a space that had little to do with the large physical distance between them.

"Hermione," Severus purred in her ear. "Get out of your head. Let it go."

"I'm worried about Harry . . . he just seems off lately."
"Off how?"

"I don't know."

"All the time? He hasn't seemed right since . . . when? Forgive me," He backed up as she shot him a look. "I just mean, the Harry Potter you used to ride the Hogwarts Express with has been killing his former classmates off, one by one, in new and interesting manners. So, I'm not sure what your standard for comparison is."

"Point taken. And no, he's not always different, just sometimes . . ." She closed her eyes. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"I forgive you. For now."

Ginny Weasley appeared at Hermione's side. She was dressed in a silver silk piece that clung to her curves and made her complexion glow. "Hey there."

"Hey, Gin." Hermione smiled. "Where you been?"

"Here, there . . . nowhere." Ginny looked down for a second. "Hey, sorry I just finished off the plans and then dumped them on you to execute."

"It's alright, I'm more than capable." Hermione noted the dodge of the question, but let it go. Everyone had secrets now.

"Quite a gala, I have to hand it to you." She smiled.

"To Hermione, good show." Severus raised his glass, mouth twisted in bemusement.

"To Hermione," Ginny smiled brightly as she lifted her glass.

"To me," Hermione blushed as she clinked her glass with theirs.

"Hey, what are we toasting?" Bane, still pretending to be Draco, drawled, coming close just as they ended their toast.

"The party." Hermione giggled as she stood up, a little tipsy. Severus smoothly stood beside her, reaching an arm out to steady her.

"Celebration of celebration – my favorite party theme." Bane raised his own glass and took a sip.

Ginny shifted, saying nothing. She had forgotten that Draco had befriended Hermione. It just didn't seem to reconcile itself well in her mind. The man that had been in her bed . . . in his father's bed . . . last night being friends with Hermione – didn't seem right.

Bane stepped closer, his knees brushing hers. Swallowing hard, she looked up into his steely eyes. A deep shiver moved through her, stronger than what she had felt the night before. He presented her his hand.

"Care to dance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stand up. Dance with me," he commanded.

Ginny put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Bane's strength propelled her into his arms, which he enclosed around her, pulling her up tightly against his chest. He walked backwards toward the dance floor, his face buried in her hair.

"Draco, what are you doing?" She whispered.

"What? Afraid people will talk?" He grinned savagely. "What are they going to say? That you're fucking a Malfoy?"

Ginny wound her arms around his neck, allowing him to move her body to the music as he wished. 'Were you born mean?"

"Probably." Bane confessed. "But that's not why I'm mean to you."

Around them, Ginny could hear the low hum of people whispering, could see them looking at her from the corners of her eye. "Why are you mean to me?"

"Because you want me to be."

"Yeah, and how do you want me to be?" She cocked her head to the side, blood-red hair dripping in front of her eyes. "Or is that, who do you want me to be?"

"Clever girl. I have to hand it to Lucius, you learn fast." Bane's smile did not reach his eyes. Ginny had the passing thought that she had never heard Draco refer to his Father by his first name before. "But I'd caution you not to write checks your body isn't ready to cash." He held her away from his chest for a moment, slowly looking her up and down. "Not yet, anyway."

Tugging her back into his arms, he spun and dipped her slightly, forcing her to cling to his shoulders to retain her balance. Her heart beat sped up. "Admit it, I'm not the one you want to screw."

Bane laughed softly. "No, but you'll do."

"What is this? You trying to fuck with your father?" She fought a wave of heat as he pulled her tight to his hips, trailing a kiss or two along her shoulder.

"Why Ginny, I'm shocked. I had no idea you'd be interested in such a thing." Bane smirked. "Though I guess I should have known."

"You know what I meant. Are you messing with me to get to him?"

"You think this would piss him off?" Bane scoffed. "I could have you on the cake table, and he wouldn't care. Lucius shares well with others."

She bit her lip.

"What?" He asked, his voice coaxing.

"I was just wondering." She paused, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "If you'd ever . . .done anything like that."

"I could give you that information, but it's going to cost you."

"Start moving the cake."

"Excuse me?"

"I haven't had a piece yet." She looked at him with wide innocent eyes. "Sex makes me hungry."

"I had more of an 'exchange of information' sort of deal worked out, but a man can hardly refuse that kind of deal, especially at such a price." Damn, she had called his bluff.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"How much farther did you want last night to go?"

'Keep your information. I'm not that interested."

"Could have fooled me."

"I know." She smirked. The song ended and he escorted her back to the table, where Hermione and Severus were still sitting.

"Hey Gin." Hermione smiled, having finally decided not to worry any more tonight. Severus was right, she deserved a night off. "We were just going to get some cake, you want a piece?"

Bane raised Ginny's hands to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "Yeah, Gin. Want a piece?"

With a slight bow, he released her hand and walked away, his laughter echoing behind him.

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"Malfoy." Harry finally cornered the blond on the patio. Behind Harry there was light and music, laughter and dancing. Behind Draco laid shadow and quiet, secrets and darkness.

"Potter." The blond nodded genially. "Having a good time?"

"Who are you?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. The light poured into the patio-area from the large glass doors, muted by wispy curtains. Harry appeared to be some kind of avenging angel, standing between Bane and the party. Bane could almost picture large white wings outspread behind Harry's shoulders.

"Who do you want me to be, Potter?" Bane laughed.

Harry was across the stone floor in an instant, his hand closing tightly around Bane's throat, propelling him against the marble rail that separated the patio from the gardens beyond them. "I asked you a question."

"What are you going to do, Potter? Kill me right here, with all of these people watching?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." Harry tightened his grip, feeling the gentle flutter of Bane's throat working against the constriction. "Think anyone would miss you?"

"Well, there's not a lot of love for Malfoy's these days . . . "

"Lie to me again, and I'll snap your neck right here." Harry reached his left hand into the other man's tuxedo jacket, pulling out the flask he'd known was there. "You think I wouldn't notice? Who do you take me for?"

Harry hurled the flask deep into the darkness of the garden. He leaned his body weight heavily into the fake Draco, his entire forearm buried in his chest, his face inches from his. Bane would have laughed in his face if he could breathe. He smirked instead. I'm not afraid of you.

Harry's smile deepened, enjoying this, feeling on solid ground for the first time since he had defeated Voldemort. Here was familiar, here was comforting – violence, threats and pain, yes, bring it on. "I've got all night. We'll just wait here and see who you are."

In a sudden burst of moment, Bane threw Harry off, reversing their places. He leaned in, his cheek brushing Harry's face, his lips grazing Harry's ear as he whispered, "You know who I am, Potter."

"You're not Riddle." Harry's eyes narrowed, not sure how he knew this to be true, but this was not the Dark Lord reincarnated. This man's power felt different, familiar . . .

The blond was starting to fade from the fake Draco's hair. Harry leaned back on the rail, slowly shifting his weight to his arms, ignoring his depleting store of oxygen and the cold hand clasped around his neck.

"No, Riddle's dead." Bane looked at Harry's face and for a moment, felt frozen in place. In the worst of his self-loathing, he might have liked to have been in exactly this position, with the opportunity to break his own neck between his hands.

Harry felt the heavy ring of truth in the statement. He had known that, known that in the instant before he had been struck by that lightning bolt, while he stood there, sword in hand, Draco by his side, Death Eaters cowering at his feet. How had he let Dumbledore convince him otherwise?

Harry balanced on the balls of his feet, the majority of his weight now shifted to his arms. Throwing his weight backwards, he broke the other man's grip on his throat and used the momentum to bring his legs up and plant both feet firmly in Bane's chest. Bane landed hard on the stone floor, Harry standing firmly on his chest. Reaching behind himself, Harry pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of an invisible sheath strapped to his back and concealed with a charm.

Harry tucked the tip of the sword under the corner of the pretend Draco's jaw. "You're next. Now, who the bloody hell are you?"

"Why, Harry, I'm you." The rest of the potion faded away and Harry was left staring at his own face. "But you can call me Bane."

And with a wink, Bane vanished, leaving Harry alone with his sword in the courtyard.

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Dumbledore watched from the shadows of the garden, disappearing back up to his office before he could be spotted. Harry was a lot better at knowing when he was being watched than he had been as a student. Moody's constant vigilance seemed to have rubbed off on the boy.

He sent a message to Severus, letting him know that there had been something of a development.

Dumbledore began to pace. He had known that the other Harry was pretending to be Draco at the Quidditch game. There was no mistaking Harry's flying style, especially pitted against itself. He had hoped to keep that fact away from Harry for awhile longer. Now he was left with several dilemmas. But Dumbledore was used to plans being ruined, and he always had a back up plan.

He glanced down at his desk, where a scroll was creating the new student roster for the upcoming year. Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling as he read the names. Yes, he always had a back up plan.