I'm going to be dumping a bunch of fics today. They were all written for the Hermione's Haven #HHBingo19 event. If you do not follow me on AO3 I would suggest going over there sometime, most of these fics have artwork accompanying them there.

This was written for my O3 square: "She wore her darkness like some girls wear a little black dress." JW

Hermione looked out the rain-spotted window and the city below. Behind her she heard him take a seat, the question he had just asked still hanging in the air.

"I'm done with them all," she replied softly. "I spent years fighting them, years spent on the run, watching as they killed everyone I ever loved. I was captured, tortured, left for dead. When I woke up the first thing I saw was the mangled body of my best friend, and I knew we had lost. So I fled, left my homeland and spent years keeping one step ahead of them. They couldn't leave me alive, you see. To be free I had to get rid of the hunters once and for all. I stole books, studied dark magic, and honed my craft until I was ready. There were five of them that came into my trap."

She looked over her shoulder and saw him looking at her in rapt interest.

"I sent their heads to Voldemort."

"I can't imagine that made him happy," he said.

"I'm sure it didn't, but he hasn't been so daft as to send his men after me after that. He put enough of a bounty on my head that has enticed a few bounty hunters. I don't bother sending their heads, their snapped wands are message enough."

He studied her appraisingly, then leaned forward to pour them each a glass of wine, pointedly placing hers in such a way that invited her to sit next to him. She crossed the room slowly, making sure he had time to take in each of her features, her lean body with just enough muscle in case her fight became physical, her long legs barely covered by the blood red dress she wore, the 'mudblood' scar on her arm worn like a badge of honor. She sat next to him and crossed her leg towards him so her calf just barely brushed against the jeans he was wearing, and stared back at him with cold, intense eyes as she took a sip of wine.

"You still haven't mentioned how I come to play in all this," he said.

"I want them dead," she replied evenly. "Them and every single pureblood obsessed magical government that allowed him to get and keep power. I want them to suffer as they have made so many others suffer. I want them to know that it's a little mudblood who is doing it. I want Bellatrix to look into my eyes as she dies in considerable pain. And I want Voldemort to feel ten times the pain he put on every other person until death becomes a mercy. But I am no fool. I cannot take down Voldemort myself. The others like myself have been beat down and opposed for so long they're too afraid to rise up again and even if they wanted to they're of little use. But you…" she trailed off, resting her fingers on his thigh.

"I sent someone to you, I made you an offer…"

"To get what I want for ten years before your hounds come to tear me to pieces and drag my soul to hell," she interrupted. "You can probably see why that holds little appeal to me."

"And what makes you think I would agree to this when you're not willing to give me anything in return?" he asked.

"Who said I'm not?" she raised an eyebrow. "When I am finished I will have control of what is left of the wizarding world. Realistically around half a million people. That's half a million soldiers in the war I know you're trying to start. Half a million magical fighters, not moronic suburban soccer moms enticed to do trivial magic by one of your less ambitious demons, actual fighters."

"Do you think they'll agree to fight for me?"

"Humans are sheep," she shot back. "You tell them they're free but you can manipulate them into doing what you want with barely a nudge. A few lies, some half-truths, and a few disasters pinned on the other side and they'll fight for you."

"Why do you think I would need you for any of that? I could destroy you like that," he said, snapping his fingers in front of her face, but she didn't flinch.

"Do you think they'd follow an outsider? Or a well-known face of the resistance? If you give me the wizardting world, I'll give it right back to you. I'll make you sound like the messiah and when the fight does come I'll give you their power. And one other thing, a gift, a token of good faith."

"What would that be?" he asked, smirking.

She leaned forward so her lips were nearly touching his ear. "Sam Winchester," she whispered.

His head jerked back so he could look in her eyes, his flashing red for a fraction of a second in his greed. "How do you propose to do that?" he asked.

She smiled and stood, walking to the table and picking up her phone off it. Without a word she punched in some numbers and turned on the speaker as the robotic voice announced a voicemail she got just two hours prior.

"Hey, babe," Sam's voice filled the room. "I just wanted to know I just sent Dean to Maine on a case. I'm on a bus right now, I should be getting there in a few hours. I can't wait to see you, it's been too damn long. Love you."

She hung up with a smirk as he beamed happily. He stood and walked to her, handing it to her and clinking his own against it. "How long?" he asked.

"A year and a half. I was a lot less suspicious than that demon you had trying. He's so starved for love and affection that it was almost too easy, it nearly took the fun out of it."

"I believe we have a deal, then," he said, dipping his head towards hers, but she ducked out of the way.

"One more thing," she said as she backed away. "Let's call it insurance. Something to stop you from killing me the moment you get what you want."

He chuckled. "I've heard you were called the brightest witch of your age. I'm starting to see it. Let's see this insurance of yours."

"I discovered something while dealing with your red eyed minion. Most importantly that memory charms work on them as easily as they work on most people. That was most fortunate, I would have had a hard time explaining why I killed her, but I wanted her for information as much as opening up a line of communication." She placed her beaded bag on the table and reached inside, pulling out a large, ancient looking book and stayed lazily flipping the pages. "Don't worry, she was very reluctant to talk. It took quite some time to persuade her. But when she did she gave me exactly what I wanted. She told me your deepest desire, and it isn't Michael's head on a silver platter. After that it took some effort to find the right book, even more to translate it into anything modern, but I found something that might be of particular interest, something that could give you what you want and more." She turned the book so he could come look.

He set his wine glass down and walked over to her side and looked down at the page. As he read his face twisted into a look of pure excitement, and he looked down into her face with glowing red eyes.

"Deal?" she asked.

"Deal," he growled, and he crashed his lips into hers to seal it.