Thorfinn Rowle never thought it would come to this. He was a young man, with many things he planned to do in life. That's the thing though, living in times of war threw quite the wrench in any plan you ever made. War created a beast in every human, and the only thing the beast wanted was to live. It would do anything, destroy any person, demolish any village, if only it could live. Thorfinn Rowle's beast found its way into the safe arms of the little lioness, Hermione Granger, and his life was wrecked.

"Rowle, you have one chance to drop that damned wand, or I will drop you!" Hermione Granger had grown into a warrior woman since Hogwarts. Where she once gave second chances, she now inflicted twice the pain. Her stance was confident and her voice told no lies; he knew she meant what she said. He had seen the injuries she had inflicted on his fellow Death Eaters.

"Okay, okay Princess. It's down. What are you planning to do with me now? Kill me anyway?" Rowle had nothing to lose at this point. There was nothing he could do to defend himself, as she had just bound him with an incarcerous. She knocked his legs out from under him, and he fell back easily onto the cobblestone of the dark alley. "Oh, is that all you wanted? Me on my back, and beneath you? I know you like to be in control Granger, but all you had to do was ask- I'd be more than willing to see what a bad girl you can be."

She silenced him, not wanting to hear anymore of the lewd comments she was sure that would ensue. "Rowle, you're coming back to headquarters with me, and if you continue to be so disgusting, I'll show you just how naughty I am, though I am certain you won't enjoy it one bit." Although he was silenced, his open mouth and sparkling eyes told that he was having quite the laugh, and secretly she was too.

Rowle and Granger had quite the history. He was a fifth year at Hogwarts while she was a first. Her bookwormish and nagging ways drove him up the wall. Their very first encounter, she had the nerve to use magic against him, and embarrassed the shit out of him. He was impressed by her, but he'd never tell her. Instead he continued to bully her, if only to interact with her. As the next three years passed, they grew accustomed to bantering and battles of wit. Granger knew by the time he graduated she fancied him as much as she hated him. Rowle knew one day, he'd come back for her.

Hermione Granger had endured months of teasing; she'd had her hair turned into a literal bird's nest, her teeth elongated to resemble a beaver's, and any time she tried to answer a question in her classes, her tongue would become tied. Quite frankly, she'd had enough. On this particular day, she was leaving Professor McGonagall's class late because a student thought it'd be humorous to hide her things while she was at her professor's desk asking a question.

Thorfinn Rowle was a fifth year, and apparently had nothing better to do, than harass her. Because of the incessant whining from Draco Malfoy, he knew who the small witch was right away; Draco often mocked her and prissed around answering questions in a nasally high pitched tone. She sounded as obnoxious as he imagined a spoiled princess would be. He saw her walking down the corridor, and thought it'd be brilliant to hide from her and expel all the things from her bag causing her inkwells to break, and her parchment to tear, and her books to fly down the hall. Hermione collapsed with her head hanging lowly in her hands.

Thorfinn stepped out from behind a knight in armor, "What's wrong Princess? Can't use all those smarts to put your things where they belong?" When looking at him, the first thing she noticed was his uncanny similarity to a Viking. He was tall, at least six feet and not yet fully grown, and his shoulders were broad. His face was more handsome than it had any right to be with a strong nose and perfectly plump lips. His blue eyes were gleaming with mischievousness, and his golden hair hung loosely around his shoulders.

Before she could stop herself, she aimed her wand at his head, "Nodore," she cried. His once free-flowing hair was now in knots on top of his head. He pulled and tore at his hair, trying to free it from it's magical binds, growing increasingly frustrated.

"What's wrong, you massive Viking? Can't use all that magic of yours to untangle it?" His eyes shot to her chocolate ones full of mirth, and widened at her nerve to mock him. Before he had a chance to make a grab at her, she summoned all her things, and bolted, leaving him alone in the hall.

"Bloody hell," he almost couldn't be angry at the little witch. Almost. True enough, he respected her for her cleverness, but she had to be put in her place. He made it his mission to terrorize her for the next three years. He didn't expect her to return the terror tenfold.

After much deliberation within the Order, Thorfinn Rowle was told he could live if he vowed to work alongside the Order. The only reason he was not killed on the spot was due to the fact that behind his bravado, he was not the Death Eater scum he pretended to be. Self-preservation was his motivation. Being a Death eater guaranteed his safety in the war. It was not an easy feat getting into his mind, but Granger, ever the know-it-all swot, prodded her way in. She was the only person who fully trusted him, as she was the only one to see his memories and his raw emotions. He didn't mind that a bit. He always found Gryffindors to be pretentious bastards anyway.

After leading the Death Eaters to believe he was dead or at least a lost cause, he had no one. He had ignored the calling of the Dark Lord for months; each beckon pulling on his scar growing more and more painful. He began to become delusional, "Princess, just kill me, please. Chop it off, I can't stand this anymore. I won't go to him, I promise." He writhed, tore at his Mark, bit through his lip, pulled his hair, and begged for death. The Order had no way of relieving his pain, and some didn't want to. Some believed he deserved the punishment for the havoc he wreaked on others' lives.

After days of Voldemort summoning him, he ceased. No more pain, and no more loyalty to his previous lord. The Prophet claimed Thorfinn Rowle of only twenty-five years was dead. He was supposedly killed in a raid by the Order. No other Death Eater had ever ignored a summon from their Master, so they could only conclude he had ceased to be. To remain 'dead', he would have to remain unseen. He was made to stay within the doors of the Headquarters, and do as he was told. His days included spending much time with Granger; she was typically the only one that would be at the Headquarters most days because she was the only person willing to put her nose to the books and research. In his time with the lioness, he grew to love the way she smiled at his inappropriate behavior, but he loved even more how hard she tried to hide it. He appreciated her wit and total disrespect for men who tried undermine her. She was a spitfire, and he revelled in the burn.

His duties included those you'd expect of a woman. He hated every moment of it, grumbling and groaning to anyone who'd listen. "When I lost my Mark, did I also lose my dick? Whose idea was this?" Hermione could only laugh at his antics, not only because it was humorous, but because she knew he was miserable. "I mean come on Princess, surely you can find something more useful for me to do, if you'd like, I can show you how well I am with my wand." Everyone in the room was well aware of the double meaning in his words, and only Granger laughed at it.

"Oi! You prick, keep running your mouth, and I'll cut your tongue out." Ron Weasley was still hurt over the fact his Hermione had turned him away after so many years of being friends and fighting alongside each other. He couldn't believe she no longer wanted him. It took him five years to realize what a catch she was, and he was five years too late.

"Ronnikins, you can't do that, how do you expect me to please her without it? I suppose I could make up for it though, I am quite good with my-" Rowle was shoved against the cupboard by a very angry Ronald Weasley, and he was absolutely murderous.

"Ronald Weasley, you remove yourself from him immediately. Don't you have work to do?" Granger decided it was a good time to step in, not because she feared for Ron, but because she knew Rowle could snap him in half if he felt the need to do so. With one last shove, the ginger left the kitchen. Hermione was sitting on the counter top reading a tomb that appeared to be as old as magic itself.

Thorfinn made his way to her and stroked her cheek to gain her attention, "Princess, you know I can handle myself."

"Yes, you massive Viking, I'm aware. I was simply looking out for the kitchen and all the dishes." She placed her hands on either side of his chiseled face, "And Rowle?" She bit her lip and gazed into his eyes.

"Yes my little lioness?" Rowle placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to his much larger frame.

Granger's lips were so close to his own, they brushed against them as she said, "The toast is burning." Before he had time to react, she was bounding down the hall towards the library.

"I'll fucking ruin you, you little witch," he yelled, absolutely enraged. Hermione only cackled at him, for she knew he could. She was not too certain that he hadn't already.

A/N: Sooooo… How was it? This is my first time writing a Harry Potter fanfic, and my first time publishing in… God. Ages. I hope everyone enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I plan on this to be no more than 5 chapters at the most.

As you know, the sexy beast that is Thorfinn Rowle was based on the creation of Canimal's, and his nickname of Princess came from her. The nickname of Viking for him came from Kittenshift17 and if you've not read their work- DO SO IMMEDIATELY! Also, I don't own the characters, I just like playing with them.

Thanks for reading! Drop a review to let me know how I'm doing!