A / N

Wattpad's acting up again, please pretty please let me know HERE if you can see this chapter? That being said, there may be a slight delay in the next update as I just realised I've yet to post the faq/afterword chapter to Draconian...? This chapter is longer though, so it should hold you till then!

x Noelle

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KNOCKTURN ALLEY IS one of the safest places at a time like this. The only way to hide from the Dark is to be one with the dark. In the streets where Snatchers and Death-Eaters roam freely, no one ever takes a second glance at her.

Oh, they look plenty at her. Just never close enough to see her for who she truly is. Or what she can really do.

"Two Firewhiskeys." She sets the bottles down on the table, and tries not to flinch when Corban Yaxley places a hand over hers. Inwardly, however, she smirks. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. These Death-Eaters... So deadly, so easy. She looks at him with a level gaze. "Sir, you know that will cost you extra."

"My dear, you'll find that I'm very willing to pay for your services."

Her blood red lips curl up in a smirk. "Room 205. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."

"Your reputation precedes you, Raven. You had better be worth the wait."

There's a hint of threat in his voice, but she counts herself lucky that he isn't forcing himself on her. That would be tedious to deal with. She does so hate (love) hexing them, leaving them knocked out cold with a bad case of blue-balls for hours while she invades their minds. Yaxley kisses the back of her hand, grabs his bottles and heads up to the room first.

She's about to return to the counter when someone steps up behind her. A wand digs into her back and a low voice sounds by her ear. "Come with us, and we won't hurt you."

It's not the first time she's been held at wand-point. As the men lead her out, she runs through all her options. The White Wyvern is relatively empty at this time of day, and screaming for help will be of no use. In Knockturn Alley, no one really cares when someone's taken away right in front of them. Her boss is nowhere in sight and she's all on her own.

She steps out into the sunlight, and they back her into a small alley. She knows they want her to turn around. The moment the wand eases slightly off her back, she springs into action. Two well-aimed elbows into their chests send them stumbling back. They groan in pain, and she whirls around. With a wand in each hand, she holds it to their necks. But they're just as fast, if not faster. In the blink of an eye, their wands are to her own neck.

Her breath catches. These are faces she hasn't seen in years. "Hello, Nott, Zabini."

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stare back at her. The last time she'd seen them, they'd all been in the Slytherin dungeons together. Locked in there while the rest of the school went to fight. She's heard about them though—Knockturn Alley is all abuzz about four Death-Eaters who've turned rogue and sworn allegiance to the Order. Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy are the other two, and the latter is at the top of Voldemort's hit list.

"Raven," Theo says coolly. To his credit, his expression doesn't change. "I don't believe we've met."

"Your reputation precedes you. But this is my territory. If you're looking for information, you'll have to go somewhere else."

They exchange a look. "That won't be a problem at all," Blaise says and opens his mouth to cast a spell. But she digs her own wand further into his neck.

"Before you use Legilimency on me, might I suggest taking care of your own mind? Draco Malfoy might've locked it for you—I recognise his magical signature. But you haven't mastered Occlumency and the memories I see here are...very interesting."

Theo's eyes flash. There's a Darkness in them that she doesn't detect in Blaise. Between the two, he's the more dangerous one. "Are you threatening us?" he snarls.

"Zabini, Nott," a voice stops them.

She stills. I know this voice. She casts a quick glance to the side, only to find Ron Weasley headed towards them. He stops several feet away, but his blue-eyed gaze remains fixed on her. There's a sliver of recognition in it—he seems to know exactly who she is. And unlike Blaise and Theo, his mind is clear and open. It reminds her of a pool of fresh spring water, unlike the murky ones she often has to deal with. She refocuses her magic and slides a quiet greeting into his mind.

Hello, Ron.

His eyes widen, but his lips lift in the barest hint of a smile. He turns back to his friends. "It's okay, she's not a threat."

Blaise frowns. "I really don't think—"

"I can take over from here. They need help back at the base."

Perhaps it's the quiet confidence in his voice, because the two Slytherins seem to trust him. They nod and lower their wands. Blaise apparates off first. With a final narrow-eyed glance at first Ron, then her, Theo goes as well.

That leaves her with Ron.

A silence falls between them, louder than ever because of the empty street. She shifts on her feet, feeling a little awkward that he has to see her dressed like this. But he doesn't allow her to feel uncomfortable. He steps closer, his eyes roving her face. "Hello, Astoria."

She sucks in a quiet breath at that. It has been so long—so long—since someone called her by her name. She's almost forgotten how it sounds. How the syllables glide so neatly off his tongue; how his mouth forms the word in a way that feels as though he's said it many times before.

"Hi," she returns, just as softly.

"Where were you? You weren't at The Arcanum when I went back a week later. The place just...vanished. I looked everywhere for you."

He'd looked for her? Her breath catches at that revelation. "There was a raid. After Dolohov got imprisoned, the Death-Eaters came back. They didn't know what had happened to him, but they knew The Arcanum was the last place he'd gone to. The Madame got me and some of the girls out. She and the rest didn't make it," she adds quietly.

The silent understanding on Ron's face makes her look away. Her throat is tight with emotion and she blinks hard. Best not to think about that.

"I'm sorry that happened," he says, then tilts his head as though to study her. "Can you drop your charm? There's no one else around here. I checked."

She nods. "Finite Incantatem."

A whisper of magic dissolves her charm. Gone are her raven hair and blood red lips. In its place, her brown hair ruffles in the slight breeze and her tired brown eyes remain. She looks nothing like a Greengrass should. That reputation has long since been destroyed when she chose this path. But her choice seems worth it when Ron smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he looks uncharacteristically boyish for a moment. It fills her with relief to know that he hasn't lost his smile.

"You haven't changed," he muses at last.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean... You're still, you know?" Is she imagining it, or have his cheeks taken on a faint flush?

"I'm still—what?" she can't help but probe, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"You know..." He makes a vague gesture at her face, then lowers his gaze. Oh, yeah, he's definitely embarrassed. "Come on, you must've looked in a mirror recently."

"I haven't." His eyes widen, and she hastens to explain, "I've never liked mirrors. I mean, Daphne always was the pretty one. So since I was little, I made it a habit not to look at myself—"

"Merlin, are we on this again?" He shakes his head at her, but his gaze is soft. "Try looking at yourself in the mirror next time. You might be surprised with what you find. Trust me."

She thinks he's just being nice and flattering her, but then, she does trust him. "Okay," she says, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "How've you been, by the way?"

"Good," he says, then hesitates. "As good as one can be during a war anyway. What about you?"

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"I'm glad to hear it." There's a slight pause, before he adds, "Hermione's back, by the way. Of all people, Malfoy was the one who found her."

"Oh, good. I always knew Draco would."

Ron's eyebrows shoot up. "Your Visions told you that?"

"Andromeda did. I work for her, remember?"

"Yes, right. Anyway, when Hermione fell, I...I wiped her memory. I know, it was a shite thing to do, but—it seemed necessary at that moment. I figured if she didn't know anything, they couldn't torture her for information or find out anything about the Order. It just... Turns out that I fucked up. I wiped some things and left the others behind, and she got tortured more because of it. She can't remember me or Harry. The only person she remembers is sodding Malfoy. I guess it makes sense that she's with him now." The underlying tone in his voice is one that she's all too familiar with: guilt. His eyes search her face, as though desperate for her assurance. "All I wanted was to protect Hermione. I didn't mean to mess her up or hurt her. You know that, right? I just...I didn't think..."

She lets out a slow breath and takes a step closer to him. "I know," she says quietly. "When The Arcanum was raided, I wiped all their memories. The clients', the girls' who couldn't get out in time...even The Madame's. They died without ever knowing why." She blinks hard and looks down at her feet. "Andromeda tells me that it was the only way. No one could know who I was. But I close my eyes and see their faces. I think about them everyday, and I wish it had been me. It's just...it's something you live with, I guess."

"Yeah." His voice is just as quiet as hers. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I'm sorry about Hermione, too. And that she's with Draco. I know it must be hard for you to see them together."

His eyebrows rise. "Why exactly?"

"Come on, you and Hermione...? Everyone thought you were a couple back in school..." she trails off unsurely. Had she gotten it all wrong?

"Yeah, back in school three years ago," he repeats, with a shrug. "We're not like that anymore. I haven't thought about Hermione in that way for a long time. Sure, I've missed her—the way one would miss a friend, but she's with Malfoy now. And I... I think I want someone else."

Who? is on the tip of her tongue, until she meets his gaze. His blue eyes are open and frank, and he's looking right at her. Oh. If there's one thing Gryffindors aren't good at, it's subtlety. And Slytherins aren't good with feelings.

She bites her lip and looks away. "I should probably... I have to go. Yaxley's waiting for me at the White Wyvern..."

"Yaxley?" Ron's voice is suddenly hard. "Corban Yaxley? The bloody Death-Eater?"

"He has information I need."

She squares her shoulders and turns to leave. This moment with Ron cannot last. At the end of the day, she still has reality to face. But she barely takes a step away when his hand closes around her wrist.

"Astoria, wait—"

She whirls around in surprise, only to come face to face with him. His eyes are fixed on her, and the intensity in them makes her throat tighten. She's never seen him look this serious before. "Ron, I have to go—"

"No, you don't," is all he says before he kisses her.

Her world shifts. It's nothing like their first time. That had been light and innocent, an almost friendly peck on the lips just so she'd know what it was like to kiss a boy. But this is the man that Ron has grown up into. Hardened by battle, strong from years of survival, with a relentless passion in everything he does.

And it shows in the way he kisses her. His mouth covers hers; hard and bruising and needy all at once. In the back of her mind, she registers that Ron can bloody well kiss. She doesn't know if it's through years of practice, or if he's born with a naturally talented mouth. But then he bites down on her bottom lip, and his clever tongue licks into her mouth, and she decides it doesn't matter.

She clutches the front of his sweater and yanks him down to her, kissing him back just as fiercely. She wonders if he knows this about her—that beneath her Pureblood façade, she's fiery and demanding and unabashed. He groans, a husky, low sound that turns her insides to liquid, and pushes her back against her wall. His hands frame her face as he kisses her deeply. One knee comes up between her thighs to press against her heat and she lets out a moan at that. It takes everything in her not to grind down on him like some desperate witch. Thank Merlin the streets are empty. Wait, the streets. Knockturn Alley. The White Wyvern...

She gasps and pulls away. "Ron, I really have to—"

"Not yet."

He steals the words from her mouth with another bruising kiss. Her eyes flutter shut again and she starts to kiss him back. But he moves to her neck, planting hot kisses all the way down to her pulse point. She's never realised that it's her weak spot until he proves to her that it is. He sucks hard on her skin, his teeth biting down in a brief sting, before his tongue laves over to soothe it. She's certain she'll wear his mark for days to come.

The thought makes her moan, and she drags him up to kiss him again. He obliges, his hands sliding into her hair as he grinds his hot, hard erection against her stomach. But when her hand slips between them to reach for him, he wrenches away with a visible effort.

"Not here," he rasps, pinning her hands to her sides. His voice is so thick with arousal that she blushes. His own cheeks are flushed, and he licks his lips as though he can still taste her. "I'm not going to—we're not going to... Not in a bloody alley, at least."

She nods. "I have to go anyway."

"I know." Still breathing hard, he presses his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. It's for a brief few seconds, but it's enough to trigger a memory within her. One of a moment just like this—where, after their first kiss, he'd stood with his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers and just breathed her in. He pulls back now and smiles at her. "I'll see you soon, Astoria."

It's the light in his eyes that casts any shadow of doubt away. For the first time since the start of this war, she begins to believe that maybe they will.