12 GRIMMAULD PLACE, LONDON, ENGLAND; 5TH AUGUST 1977

The pit in Hermione's stomach dropped as she stood pressed so intimately against Regulus Black that she could feel the outline of his body through the robes he was wearing. He wasn't all muscles, but as he pushed harder against her, she could feel that he'd nearly fully shed his childish softness and was growing into the man he would become.

It was dark, the candlelight from the central aisle illuminating his face, casting Regulus in shadows that made him look dangerous.

"I won't repeat myself," he whispered, leaning in too close again. "How do you know your way around my home if you've never been here?"

Hermione cursed herself for not doing as she'd been told and summoning Tilly. She should have known better than to wander around the home without someone watching her. It'd already been made clear what the opinions were of girls that did as they pleased and not as they should, according to Mrs. Black, not that Hermione gave a damn what she thought.

However, she was currently a guest in that wretched woman's home, and had she done as Hector had asked, Hermione wouldn't have found herself pressed between a bookshelf and Regulus Black's body.

His hand lifted and squeezed her throat when Hermione didn't respond, a warning that she'd better start talking soon.

"I don't know, I just found it," Hermione answered weakly, her airway being cut off. "Please, I–I don't know how I found it!" Hermione cried out, struggling to move away from him. "I wished to get away and lick my wounds after your mother called me an unsavory term, and I found the passage."

Hermione closed her eyes, finding it still hard to breathe as Regulus hadn't let up his grip. If he was putting any more pressure, she knew that she would have bruised, but at the moment, he wasn't being that rough with her as if that made things any better.

"And what was it, if you don't mind me asking you to repeat such an unsavory term that my mother called you?"

Regulus seemed to buy the excuse that Hermione had given him and not push for a further explanation. It was a good thing, too, because Hermione had no reason beyond that she didn't know. She couldn't explain her connection to his home just as she couldn't explain the rules of Pureblood courting.

Hermione cleared her throat, causing it to rumble against his palm as she didn't want to repeat the word, but it didn't seem like she was being given a choice. "A strumpet, which I can assure you I am not."

"Hmm," was the only reply he gave her, releasing her throat. For some unknown reason, that only infuriated Hermione more.

"Is that all you have to say?" Hermione snapped, her nostrils flaring at the humiliation. "You trick me into a public show of courtship , which forces myself and my parents to come to your home, and the first few words out of your mother's mouth are an insult at me, and all you can say to it is 'hmm'!?"

The grey eyes peered down at her as if piercing Hermione's soul, delving into the depths and hidden parts she was unaware of. Damn him, and damn these games, he seemed to insist on playing with her.

Hermione pushed at his chest, catching the boy off guard and forcing him to tumble away from her just enough that Hermione could move past him and begin her way back towards the center aisle. She didn't need this; she didn't need to put up with how he was already treating her and manhandling her at every turn. Her adoptive parents didn't need to subject themselves to an evening having tea with that vile woman, and Hermione didn't even feel the slightest inclination to care about the rules of pureblood society.

For all Hermione knew, perhaps she wasn't even a pureblood. This would explain why none of this senseless knowledge lingered in her mind.

A chaperone , Hermione scoffed to herself, nearly at the end of the row now as if a woman was incapable of keeping her virtue intact and deciding when and whom she would have sex with. As if any of that even mattered! It wouldn't make her any less of a desirable partner for any future spouse if anyone had come before them.

Hermione had nearly reached her exit when Regulus caught up and gripped her wrist between his thumb and forefinger. His hold on her wasn't enough to prevent her from continuing to seek refuge away from him, but it was just enough that it made her curious about what he wanted from her.

"She shouldn't have called you that," Hermione laughed at the statement but didn't turn to face him. "You aren't anything less than absolute perfection, and anyone too blind to see that fact shouldn't be permitted to gaze upon your beauty."

"So your only appeal to me is my looks?" Hermione snipped, though she knew what he'd meant and was purposefully being difficult.

"No," he gently tugged her arm, and Hermione allowed him to pull her to face him. "Though, I suspect Aphrodite played a hand in your creation. Your mind is a wonder that I could only wish to bear witness to its inner workings someday. The aura around you attracts even the most weary souls. You are a candle burning in the darkness, a beacon pointing me toward the path I've been searching for."

"And you came to this conclusion from walking around a bookshop with me for a few hours?" Hermione asked, though her lips parted and her tongue darted to wet them. He was dangerous, that much she could tell.

"Yes," he murmured, and then his lips were on hers.

Hermione suspected that she'd never been kissed like this because there was no way her mind would have forgotten such an act. His kiss wasn't demanding or asking for more than she could freely offer.

His hands found her hair, and the pins that had been keeping it up dropped away to the floor so that her hair hung freely around her shoulders. His fingers tangled in her curls, reaching her scalp as he tipped her head back to give him better access to her mouth. When his tongue ran along the seams of her lips, Hermione could hear the sigh of pleasure coming from her as she breathed him in.

A crack made the couple freeze in their compromised position as the Black family house elf appeared beside them.

In the chaos, Hermione pulled away from Regulus, her eyes wide and lips wet from the kiss he'd just given her. Regulus looked still perfectly composed, and though he spoke to his elf, his eyes never left her.

"I suspect dinner is ready then?"

"Yes, sir," the elf replied, giving a low bow. "My Mistress asks that you hurry and not extend this evening any longer than necessary."

Extending his arm to Hermione, she knew she ought to take the peace offering, let him sweep her off her feet, and escort her to dinner from hell. However, Hermione's fierce, independent side won out, and instead of taking his arm, she turned away from him and walked toward the main exit of the library.

If Regulus Black thought she would swoon with a few smooth lines and a toe-curling kiss, he had another thing coming.

Notes:

Up next, they return to Hogwarts.