Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks for the lovely response to the first chapter of Dust. I'm having a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you're enjoying reading it! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

Thanks to my lovely alpha, Kyonomiko.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

Draco dropped into the barstool beside his new adversary – object of interest – he couldn't decide. Moments later a cold glass of ale was delivered before him, and he offered the barkeep a nod.

"Tell me something," Hermione said, turning the page of a book she was reading without looking up. "Have you really nothing better to do than to irritate me?"

"Gracious, is that what you think this is?" Draco asked, a smirk slipping to his mouth. "I'd think you ought to know better than that, given the haul I've brought in this week. Oh but wait, you witnessed that too. In fact, you were too late to do anything about any of it."

Her narrowed brown eyes swept to his.

"Here's the thing, Hermione," Draco said, taking a long swig from his mug. "You've been underestimating me since you arrived in Kingswood – which happens to be my turf – though I've no idea why. Perhaps one day you'll realize that was a mistake."

"I doubt it," she said, with a dismissive air, and Draco chuckled.

"Arrogance will get you nowhere in this town," he informed her. "But of course, you don't care for my advice."

"I have a legitimate question," she said, her head snapping to face him, and marking the page in her book. "If you're so notorious, and you spend most of your day drinking in the saloon, how is it the sheriff hasn't locked you up yet?"

Draco snickered. "Potter can suspect all he wants, but he has no proof any of it was me," he held up a lazy finger, then a second. "You will never see me here at the same time the sheriff comes by. He has a tight schedule, and to his own detriment. And thirdly, he doesn't know what I look like. I'm surprised even you knew who I was on sight."

"I've heard lots of stories," she snapped, a flush creeping to her cheeks.

Draco suspected he knew what sort of stories.

"So how long do you intend to stay in Kingswood?" he asked, leaning against the bar as he enjoyed her embarrassment.

"As long as I feel like," she said, and Draco caught the way her eyes flickered to the book she had been reading. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

"What are you reading?" he asked, sliding the book down the bar towards himself. Her hand slammed down on the cover, her eyes flashing as she scowled at him.

"It's a first-hand account of the founding of Kingswood," she sniffed.

Draco stared at her for a long moment, unblinking. Finally he lifted a brow and said, "Fascinating. Are you learning a lot?"

"I am," she responded, her tone and expression haughty, her body language tense.

So there was something in the book she didn't want him to know.

"I have a proposal for you," Draco said, idly tracing the rim of his glass. She snorted, as if amused. "Whatever you're arranging, let me in on it."

"And why would I do that?" she asked with derision. "What could I possibly gain by telling you anything, when you don't even know what it is."

"Because if you don't, I'll make it my last mission on this earth to make sure you don't find whatever it is you're looking for." Draco rolled his eyes. "You would much rather have me as an ally than an enemy, I can guarantee you. And I know every damn hole in this town. I know when the jail guard changes and where they live, I know where they hide the bank safes no one knows about; I've got the answers to questions you haven't even dreamed of yet."

"You act like I'm going into this blind," she scoffed. "And then what, I expect you'll want to split the haul."

"Half and half," he said with a short nod.

"No," she hissed, finishing her drink and collecting her book from the bartop. "Do what you will, but I'm not working with you."

"Fine," Draco said with a shrug, "have fun, then. I'll see you out there."

With a curl to her lip and narrowed eyes, she swept from the saloon.

Draco remaining until his drink was gone, an absent smile on his face. She would regret her refusal of his assistance.

Hermione scaled the side wall of the post office, settling into a safe spot on the roof to read her book. After her obnoxious encounter with Double-Draw the day before at the saloon, and a near run-in with the sheriff that morning, she had decided to seek a more private spot to continue her research.

She had been browsing through some historical accounts at the town office when she stumbled across a brief mention that the founders of Kingswood had hidden their wealth.

And following their untimely demise, there was no confirmation that anyone had ever returned for it. But surely if this had been the case, someone would have known. Double-Draw would have known.

But the fact that he hadn't immediately known what she was pursuing had sparked hope within her.

It would surely be a worthwhile haul, if she could find it.

The sack of gold she had entered Kingswood with was dwindling rapidly; staying at the inn was proving to be costly. And furthermore, Double-Draw had been going out of his way to stay one step ahead of her. While she was skilled enough in her own right, he just knew the town that much better, and she found herself increasingly frustrated.

The fact that he thought she would agree to working with him was laughable.

Sure, it would mean he wouldn't continuously thwart her anymore, but the thought of actually working with that arrogant, bull-headed, mulish man –

She ducked her head as the door to the post office slammed below her, making sure her spot was well-hidden from passersby on the streets.

Hermione also didn't have any interest in splitting her findings. The potential payoff from such a job could be enough for her to stay in one place longer than a few months. It could be enough to secure her an actual life.

And she didn't care to give half of it away.

She would simply have to keep ahead of him. Which, admittedly, would prove difficult, given he did know absolutely everything about Kingswood, while she knew very little. But no matter – she had the plan, and the book, and the information. He had nothing but a suspicion and some irrelevant bits of knowledge. He would give up soon enough, she hoped.

She ducked down again as the object of her thoughts went strolling down main street, his hat low. She observed him for a moment until he stepped into the general store across the street from the post office.

She would watch him, and learn enough about him so that she would be the one in the lead.

And all of his idle threats and promises would be for naught.

Satisfied, Hermione settled into her book.

Hermione huffed an impatient breath through her nose as she arrived at her destination, to be met with the unpleasant sight of Double-Draw, his bandana loose around his neck and his hat on the worn wooden table. It was strange to see him without the hat – his pale blond hair was disheveled and scruffy.

If she hadn't already been fully convinced he was waiting for her, she would have known by the fact that he was cooking in a dead man's house.

"What are you doing?" she asked, exasperated, her shoulders slumping at the realization that he had beat her again. Her money bag was getting dangerously low.

"What does it look like?" he drawled, one brow raised. "Cooked you supper. You're late, by the way."

"You're incorrigible," she huffed, even as her mouth watered at the smell of a hot meal. She had been getting by with increasingly poor meals as her money had dwindled.

If she hadn't been clinging to the hope of the founders' treasure, she would have left Kingswood by now.

"You're welcome," he mocked, rolling his eyes as he loaded two plates. He carelessly spun hers onto the table in front of her, and sat down at the next seat with his own. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

"No," she snapped, taking a tentative bite of the potatoes on her plate. "I don't need your help."

"Alright," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "So are you leaving Kingswood, then? I imagine you're running low on money. Staying at the inn will do that to you."

Her eyes narrowed at his cheap provocations. "Where do you live, then? You look homeless."

"Not that you need to point it out in such a callous manner," he said, raising a brow as he sheared off a piece of his chicken. "I live wherever I feel like it. Maybe I'll stay here tonight."

She swallowed. He actually was homeless.

"Why don't you find a place to stay if you're so well off?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"And burn through my money like you've been doing?" Double-Draw glanced up at her. "No, thank you. Kingswood is temporary for me and I get on just fine. I don't need a cage, nor do I want one. I go where I want, when I want, doing what I want, beneath the open sky. One day I'll put all this behind me, far behind me, and I'll be happy to do so."

Hermione snickered, even as she dug into the meal he had prepared. "So what, you figure you'll steal enough money one day, and simply ride off into the sunset."

He stared at her, his grey eyes hard, his jaw clenched. "Is that so wrong?"

Hermione's lips twitched, her smile faltering. "No, I suppose not."

"Don't tell me Kingswood is your final destination in this great, dusty old world," he said, brows coming together. "A shithole like this."

She stared at him for a long moment, silverware frozen in her hands. "I don't know where I'll end up."

"Well, not that I care what you do, but all I know is there's a world out there, waiting for me to explore it." He stabbed a bite of his chicken and chewed it, his eyes thoughtful.

If she was honest, Hermione hadn't given it that much consideration. She'd been on the run between towns for so long, often just scraping by, that the idea of finality had barely registered.

"I guess you're right," she finally admitted. "Thanks, by the way. For the food."

"Thank the dead guy," Double-Draw said with a shrug. "I just cooked it. Would have gone bad otherwise."

"Did you kill him?" she asked with some trepidation.

"No," he scoffed. "Don't assume I'm involved every time there's a death in town. And for that matter, don't believe everything you hear, either."

"I suppose not," she said quietly. His disposition, in comparison to the times he had been so pretentious and arrogant, was strangely disarming.

"It's survival, Hermione, plain and simple. I don't mourn the things I can't control. I can't concern myself with what happens between other people, because I have to do what gets me through to the next day, and the next," he said, taking another bite of his potatoes. "I know you know what that's like. But," he hesitated, staring her down. "I can't go easy on you. This is my town, and I need to look out for myself. If you don't want to work together, fine, but I'm going to drive you out of Kingswood."

Hermione averted her gaze, feeling the truth in his words. She was nearly out of money, he was continually ahead of her, and she would have already gone but for that small, hidden hope.

"I don't want to work with you," she finally said. "I can't tell you what I'm going after, but once I get it, I'll leave. It's like you said – I have to look out for myself, too."

Something flashed on his face, and for a split second she thought it might have been disappointment.

But then his cocky smirk returned, and he held up a glass of something.

"Well then," he said, "I hope it's there, because I'll find it first. And I'll look forward to the day your irritating ass leaves town."

"Please," she snickered absently. "You and I both know you like my ass."

She knew more about the founders' treasure than he ever would. And by the time he found out what she had taken, she would be long gone on the next leg of her own journey.

His smirk grew into a slow, lazy grin, his eyes heavily lidded as he stared at her. "You're right. I do."

Her eyebrows flickered in acknowledgement as she finished her meal, unwilling to meet his gaze for fear of what she might find there. She couldn't help but let his words get to her.

"Well, thanks for the food, Triple-D. It's been… interesting." She rose to her feet, ensuring she had everything.

"Indeed it has," he murmured, eyeing her oddly. He stood to follow her to the door. "Kingswood will be boring again when you leave. But here are my terms in case you change your mind: I'm willing to work with you up until the point when I go after whatever it is you think you're going to find. At that point, to each their own, and I won't help you if you get into trouble."

"I won't need your help," she whispered without turning back to face him, despite the warning chills that shot up her spine at keeping him at her back.

"Good," he said, his voice strained. She thought she felt his hand graze her hip, though it was so light it could have been an accident. But then his fingers trickled up the length of her back, and she couldn't help the shiver that followed. "Then I'll see you around. Maybe."

"Maybe," she agreed, and when she turned her head to the side, his grey eyes were staring her down. "Goodbye, then."

His eyebrows merely flickered and he swept his hat from the table, securing it on his head once more.

With a tense nod, Hermione left.

Draco felt a self-satisfied smile come to his lips as he watched her horse fade off into a cloud of dust. He bit his lower lip, in no rush to go anywhere.

He hadn't even intended for things to go the way they had – he had merely wanted to taunt her for being missing out on the loot again. And he knew feeding her would knock her off her defenses. He knew she had to be running low on money, and it was only a matter of time before Kingswood would be his again. He simply had to stay ahead of her for a bit longer yet.

And now… without her latest and last hunt, she would have no reason to stay.

Draco ran his fingers along the worn leather spine of the book she had been so covetously guarding. He had seen her hiding it as he passed, double-checking her satchel every so often.

It was a lesson he had learned early on: always watch your back. She would learn, too.

He almost felt bad, given he greatly amused himself talking to her. And she was pretty, and he would have enjoyed getting to know her better.

Beyond that, she understood his life better than any woman he had ever met.

But no matter. It wasn't personal, it was about survival.

He would read the book and discover what it was she was so insistent on finding, that had kept her lingering in Kingswood even without any other prospects.

Then Draco would beat her to it. Given her steadfast resistance, he hoped it was the sort of windfall he had been waiting for.

The one that would finally get him out of this dirty, God-forsaken town.

He dropped back into his seat, swung his boots up on the wooden table, and began to read.

Hermione threw the last items from her bag onto the floor of her room at the inn. Frantic, she shifted through the meagre pile of her possessions, as if the book would suddenly be there.

She'd had it before she left Kingswood, having found out about the casualty earlier in the saloon, and had made her way directly to the man's house.

She froze, her eyes narrowing at a spot on the wooden bedframe.

The way Double-Draw's hand had grazed her hip, and then her back.

She had been too distracted by the way her flesh had reacted to realize what he was actually doing. She grit her teeth, inwardly cursing herself for allowing her guard to drop around him. He had probably planned the whole thing, from cooking for her to thieving her book.

He knew it was the last thing keeping her in Kingswood.

If he beat her to that treasure – well, he simply couldn't. She would pry it from his cold hands, if she needed to.

With a quiet calm, Hermione carefully folded and stowed her possessions back into her bag, ensuring her pistol was fully loaded.

She loaded her gear and let the innkeepers know she would be leaving.

It looked as if she would be staying in Kingswood longer than intended, after all, and she would need all the gold she could get.

That stupid bandit wouldn't be laughing at her for long.