A/N: So yeah … this happened. *confused*. This literally came out of nowhere.

Anyway, Christmas is in 28 days, so there's that! Enjoy!

She was on the bathroom floor.

There was an onslaught of a sharp, throbbing pain throughout her cranium, and as she raised her both her hands to clutch the back of her head, she saw red.

Fuck, shit, wank and cunt.

Was that blood?

"Oh, no," she bemoaned, headache suddenly gone as she whipped from her supine position on the floor at a dizzying speed to run to the sink, clutching it tightly. There, in the sink, were blood stains as well. No, no, no, no, no – what the fuck happened and who did she kill?!

She gazed at herself woefully for about three seconds before she gawked.

Her hair was red.

Not Weasley red – but intense, flaming red red.

When did she dye her hair?

She dived into the rubbish bin below the sink and procured a box. Apparently, her other half had ventured into a Muggle store during her nightly shenanigans.

Tossing the box of L'oreal Intense Spicy Red dye back into the bin, she sat on the toilet bowl and drummed her fingers against her temples, trying to recall exactly what the fuck happened as last night's events transpired in her mind's eye.

Ah, yes. There was that promotion. Vice President of Loan Operations at Gringotts. Her coworkers celebrated her success, surprising her with a cake – Black Forest – and then … and then there was another celebration, this time at the pub – and she missed the 7pm mark to take her meds. She was so hammered to even remember or care. Oops.

And so, due to that, her meds lay forgotten, somewhere in her handbag.

Now where did she go after the change? She remembered changing into an all-black ensemble, putting a smudge of kohl around her eyes (tastefully of course), and slipped on the boots that she never wore because at the time, it didn't seem like her. Then, she Apparated straight to Pearson's warehouse.

Pearson looked up from his writing at the desk as she materialized in front of him. Pulling the pipe away from his bearded mouth, he offered a smug grin so obvious even in the darkness of the dingy warehouse. He coughed dryly before relaxing into his chair; Hermione studied the man before her. He had dark hair, an unruly mop of hair not unlike Harry's, dark, thick beard moustache and beard to match with beetle eyes, only marred by laugh lines.

"Ah, Granger. Long time no see. I was beginning to think you put the illegal bounty days behind you," he said in a raspy voice.

Hermione tossed her coat and bag full of paraphernalia audaciously onto the floor before dragging a chair in front of Pearson's desk with her shiny, leather, pointed boot.

"Been busy," she said dismissively, actively chewing a gum. Pearson watched her cheekily her for a moment.

"I can see that – I see you during the day at the bank, madam. Thereafter you seem like a totally different person. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bipolar," Pearson said nonchalantly as he rummaged through the mess of papers on his desk.

"It's called schizophrenia. Or Dissociative Identity Disorder," Hermione answered exasperatedly and started tapping her feet impatiently. "Let's skip the small talk, Pearson, and tell me what I need to do – or rather, who to find."

Just then, the entrance to the warehouse slid open noisily and in walked someone, "Ah, hey, Pearson. I was just about to pick up – ah, hello Granger."

Hermione looked at the intruder, who then stepped into the light. Sandy brown hair, also clad in all-black, and he was looking at Hermione with such polite disdain.

Hermione hummed her greetings and barely glanced at him, rolled her eyes back to Pearson as she changed her sitting position to that of a man.

"Smith," Pearson sighed heavily, "No need for you. Granger is here."

"I can see that, but you said I have another bounty left for the day," Smith said, fingering his black hat and shooting a half-glare at Hermione who was busy examining her nails while chewing gum.

"And she will take it," Pearson answered, peering at some of the documents in front of him.

"No, Pearson, really I don't mind, I -"

"Go home, Smith. You've done enough. You must be tired," Pearson cut him off edgily.

Smith opened his mouth to argue, but Pearson pinned him with eyes that left nothing more to be said, and Smith disappeared with a 'pop'.

"Why do you treat him like that?" Hermione asked, smiling a little.

"Because you're our best, and you know it."

"Ah, yes," Hermione grinned and stretched languorously like a cat, "I know."

"So this is your man for the night," Pearson threw a document and she caught it firmly with one hand before flicking it open.

"Dead or alive?" Hermione asked as she tried to memorize the face of the man. Pearson raised an eyebrow at that and she winked, "Kidding."

Hermione snapped her eyes open and rushed into her bedroom. A large sack of Galleons lay on top of her bed, which proved that she did, indeed, find her man and collected her reward from Pearson after. What made her frown, however, was not that it was untouched (knowing the other Hermione), but the other sacks of overflowing Galleons that were scattered throughout her bedroom. There must be ten thousand Galleons, at least.

Fuck, what else did she do last night?

So money-starved was her other half, that whenever Hermione forgot to take her meds, she would find herself literally drowning in Galleons the next morning or with nice clothes, purses and shoes (something day Hermione would not even consider wearing). It was quite a nice perk, this other personality, with the only detriment being that she had no idea where she got the money from, or from whom did she steal. What was worse was that she could have hurt or killed someone for that money.

Aww, I'm not that bad. You need to trust me, pet, her own voice told her, but it wasn't intentional. It was very foreign the first few times, but she was now used to it. The other her was talking to her. I wish you wouldn't try to control me sometimes. Imagine what I could do if you didn't. Something like last night should happen more often.

Hermione rolled her eyes and rubbed her chin. Where the hell did she get this money from?

"Mr Malfoy, we assure you that Gringotts has the most advanced security in the whole Wizarding world, and we are as stupefied to find out that somebody has broken into your vault and robbed you," a representative from Gringotts said hastily, making apologetic expressions at a group of armed wizards and goblins alike, with people from the press scribbling on their notepads furiously as cameras flashed at a high speed.

Hermione slowed her walk towards her office as everyone's focus was on the commotion outside the Head of Gringott's office.

Someone from the crowd stepped out, and Hermione would recognize that platinum hair anywhere on the street.

"Well then," an aristocratic, silky voice came out of Malfoy's mouth, "I should be lucky that the person only stole twenty thousand Galleons, instead of the whole thing."

The representative winced visibly, and looked unsure as to whether he should laugh along with the press or keep his face contrite.

"I am not saying that I am willing to condone this kind of incident, but do look into it, Mr Pierce. My family has invested in your bank for many a century, and I hate to be the one to finally leave," Malfoy said in a cool, collected and trained voice.

Hermione almost nodded her head and pulled her mouth down in an impressed manner, but she had just realized that her bank would now be getting bad publicity. Malfoy was mercifully calm about it (of course he was, what's twenty thousand to him?), and that had given Hermione a chance to examine him without his snotty, twatty behaviour from school. He had grown up quite nicely, he had that regal air that his father had, but it was more … muted. He was assured, of course, and low-key confidence looked good on Malfoy instead of the swaggering, domineering personality he had in Hogwarts.

After much deliberation, Hermione decided that she liked the new look and person. She shrugged and walked to her new Vice President office with a self-satisfied smile, asking her new secretary (Hilary) for a cup of tea before throwing herself at her new oak desk.

"Miss Granger, your tea," Hilary said, levitating a tray filled with a teapot, a cup and a couple of chocolate biscuits into Hermione's office.

"Ah, thank you, Hilary," she smiled sweetly and grabbed a biscuit before the tray was set fully on the desk.

"Today's paper," Hilary offered her day's edition of The Daily Prophet.

"Yes, please," she answered, "Malfoy would be on the front page, no doubt."

Hilary laughed a little and said, "Not that we ladies would mind that."

"What do you mean? It's bad for our bank, though," Hermione said, grabbing another biscuit as she unfolded the paper.

"Yeah but … Mr Malfoy, he's … well fit," Hilary giggled some more and Hermione frowned at that. Hilary immediately cleared her throat and left the office in a hurry.

Hermione shrugged again and peered down at the first page of the Prophet. She was right, Malfoy was on the front page. Snapped right in front of Gringotts, the photograph showed Malfoy marching up the stairs towards the bank entrance, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he was hounded by the press and crowd. His face was dispassionate, grey eyes set on the entrance as he rushed to inspect his vault and loss.

BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS: 20, 000 GONE FROM MALFOY HEIR VAULT

She didn't bother reading through the piece, opting to flip straight to the comics section. As she smiled through the entire comic section, she decided to revisit the front page again, now curious as to what Malfoy had to say about the whole thing. Also, she was curious about what Malfoy was up to these days. She was aware that he still remained rich, and he had an empire of some sort. Still …

Before she got to the first page, however, the third page caught her eye. The second page was filled with namby-pamby nonsense about politics and the Ministry, and it made the third page really stand out. It was filled with toothless, disheveled and homeless men and women smiling with glee, showing off their boxes of Galleons. Hermione raised the newspaper and read.

GUARDIAN ANGEL OF GALLEONS

KNOCKTURN ALLEY – It seemed to be raining money last night, and we all missed it. Fortunately for the people in Knockturn Alley, however, it seemed as though their luck had taken a turn for the better. Around 2am, a shower of approximately 10, 000 Galleons had occurred.

"It happened out of nowhere. I was just here, minding my own business when something hard hit my head. I thought those nasty kids had thrown a stone at me – they tend to do that you know – but as I looked around, more and more started hitting me. And then I looked down, I noticed that it was a Galleon! And more of them were raining down on us, I rushed to grab my box and … well, you won't see me on the streets anymore!" said a gleeful Mr Engelbert (pic).

Regarding the mystery surrounding this incident, some claim that there is indeed, a Wizarding God, but for some, they firmly believe that they saw someone on the rooftop, giving away these Galleons and that this shower of Galleons wasn't a miracle, but a donation.

"Whoever it was, I would like to thank them," said a sobbing mother of two, Helena Grace. "This will change the lives of my children, to get them a proper education was my husband's last wish before he died and … thank Merlin that now I am able to give that. Thank you, whoever you are. Thank you ever so much."

Investigations are being carried out -

Hermione dropped the paper as well as her jaw.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense.

Suddenly, she had flashbacks and she seemingly heard a cheeky cackle at the back of her head.

She had fucking robbed Draco fucking Malfoy, kept half for herself and showered the rest at the homeless in Knockturn Alley. The nerve! It wasn't even her own money! She read the last lines of the Prophet once more.

Perhaps, in this day and age, a Robin Hood exists?

What?! She was a Robin Hood now?! Stealing from the rich and giving it to the poor with the only exception being that she took half of the profit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She flipped to the front cover again, stared at Draco Malfoy's face, and swallowed heavily. Shit. Double shit. She needed to be more careful now, especially with her meds.

Having kept that in mind, she dropped by St. Mungo's after work that evening and spoke to a Healer about her DPD. Hermione asked for a stronger dosage, one that would require longer hours between consumption and something that would … literally control the shit out of her. Her Healer agreed, and gave her two vials – one arsenic and the other a deep taupe. She was to take it before bedtime.

Naturally, it didn't work because the other Hermione woke up in the middle of the night. She took another shower (in spite of the fact that Hermione always showers before bed), got out and applied kohl on her eyes and a deep red lipstick. She also fashioned her hair in a tight, straight ponytail and dressed in another all-black ensemble that consisted of a black turtleneck, black skinny trousers and combat boots.

And then she Apparated to Pearson's.

"Back so soon, Granger?" Pearson asked, not looking up from his writing.

"Need the money," Hermione said saucily. That was a lie. She needed extra money even when she had extra money.

"I thought your job at the bank pays you well."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Look, are you going to give me a job or not? Because if you aren't, I'm going to just find something else to do, like maybe sell you out to the Aurors."

"Ah, ah, ah," Pearson looked up and pointed his finger at Hermione, "You're forgetting that a group of Aurors are paying us to do this job."

"Sure, but if I do sell you out with concrete evidence, they will throw you in jail for illegal activities and well, publicity. They'll probably make up some weird criminal act for you as an excuse to capture you. They wouldn't want to seem like they're not doing their jobs, would they?"

"True, but nothing else pays you as fast as this, and as big as this," Pearson looked back at his writing and grinned.

Hermione sighed.

"You see, I know exactly why you stay," Pearson finally threw his pen on the desk and sat back. "I have an assignment, but I'm not entirely sure if it's your cup of tea. I'm considering Smith for the job, since he's willing to do anything."

"Tell me," Hermione said firmly and summoned an apple from Pearson's desk before biting into it greedily. Hmm those two weird potions the other Hermione took made her feel awfully hungry. Very crabby and very hungry.

"It's a robbery assignment. I need you to steal something. A client has just come in not too long ago saying that he needed a piece of expensive painting for his own private, confidential collection," he took out a picture from a folder and held it up for Hermione to inspect.

"What?" Hermione grimaced while chewing, "What kind of painting is this? This looks like baby's vomit."

It was just a green mess of putrid ... something.

"It's worth hundreds of millions."

"Why?" Hermione asked again, face still contorted in confusion.

"Because it's art."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed the picture back onto Pearson's desk.

"And why do you think it's not my cup of tea?"

"Because you hunt, that's what you do. That's why you're a bounty hunter. I don't think you'd prefer sneaking into someone's house, stealing their shit and smuggling it out. Do you even have the experience?"

"Stealing? Yes," Hermione grinned like a cat.

Pearson looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "I won't ask."

"So can I take it?" Hermione flicked her wand at her apple stalk and it disappeared.

"You're willing to do it?"

"Of course."

"You're crazy. I love it," he laughed and handed her a piece of paper, "Here's the map. The mansion is in Wiltshire."

It was fairly easy breaking into said mansion, what with Hermione's expertise with spells. There were many barriers and wards, knowing these rich wizards and their expensive properties, but Hermione made sure to disable them without causing any alarm or change in the barriers.

Apart from that, Hermione loved the way the mansion looked from the outside. It looked pure, clean and very beautiful. The insides however, she found, were a little drab if not empty. It looked as if the owner was in the middle of renovating, as there was hardly any furniture or portraits hung on the walls. That made Hermione's task a little harder, as a painting that big was not to be found in the hallways at all.

She cast a spell to reveal any other being around, and it was only a cat on the second floor and a single person on the top floor. Sleeping soundly, apparently. There was nobody else, and Hermione reckoned that this was probably an old man or lady in a huge mansion.

Hermione took her time, almost waltzing to the tune that was blasting through her earphones that was connected to her enchanted iPod. She was careful enough to cast a Silencing charm around herself, lest she drop something in her excitement or during her dance. And, she had a mask on that covered her face, save for her eyes and mouth.

By the time she scouted the entire mansion, she was tired and she could not find the painting at all. Shame on her for being too overconfident about finding the painting in less than ten minutes.

But the house did look really empty. As if the person just moved in, or really, renovated. If she was right, then the painting might not even be here yet. What if she or he had transferred the painting somewhere else for safekeeping while she or he settled down? Oh dear, what a waste of bloody time.

She huffed and rested her hands on her waist, looking around from the massive foyer to find no sign of the vomit-painting whatsoever. She took out the photograph from her bag and stared at it again, thinking that she could get one of her friend's children to draw on a piece of canvas and it would look better than this.

It might be in the basement, her own voice echoed in her mind, only sweeter and less gruff than the current Hermione.

Shrugging, she picked up her bag and took a chance, deciding to look for the basement instead. She came this far, might as well check.

Casting a dim light from her wand, she found a doorless entryway to a large, dank room filled with boxes. After realizing that this must be where the owner kept most of their possessions and furniture (since there was an armchair in there), she prided herself on being right about the renovation thing. She looked at the boxes, even though the painting was much too big to be fitted in a box, but she was merely curious.

Still no portraits, it seems, just various busts of some creepy-looking men and smaller, tasteful landscape paintings. Something else had caught her attention, which were the boxes upon boxes of wine. It called out to her like a long-lost lover, and she couldn't resist. And as she made her way to the love of her life, she saw it.

There, that ghastly thing. Against the wall, wrapped in protective packaging and everything. The shade of toxic green stood out like it was made of glow-in-the-dark substance, and even face to face, Hermione grimaced. How ugly.

Casting another protective spell around it, she cast a resizing spell around the painting and watched as it got smaller and smaller, until she could pick it up with her fingers.

"Ugh," she said, and put it in another delicate bag. "Hundreds of millions, eh."

With that, she picked up her bag and Disapparated.

"Granger! That was fast!" Pearson exclaimed as she returned to the warehouse, as Hermione handed the small coin bag to him.

"Wow! You truly are the best!" Pearson clapped and glanced at Smith, "See, Smith! Less than five hours!"

Smith said nothing and walked out, and Hermione smiled gleefully.

"Well, you can come and collect your reward tomorrow, after our client comes to claim the painting."

Hermione nodded and grabbed her bag once more, ready to Apparate.

"Going to bed?" Pearson asked.

"Nah, going to meet the love of my life."

"Ah, all the best," Pearson winked.

Hermione raised a brow and Apparated.

It wasn't the most genius thing to do, she realized, but this was the other Hermione so she was a bit more reckless and impulsive.

She knew she shouldn't have, but she couldn't resist.

She returned to the mansion's basement to gaze upon the wine collection again. She really was something – stealing money, and then paintings and now wine –

Rummaging through different sorts of antique wine bottles, she picked out the best 5 … Torres, Casillero del Diablo, Château Latour, Tignanello and Penfolds. Just as she was about to take five more, she heard a creak, and somebody's magical signature approaching fast.

She stood up immediately, pulled her mask over her face and tried to pack up everything all at once but alas, she was too late.

Instinctively, she cast a Stunning spell at the entryway, only to have it deflected. Within seconds, they were dueling, and her precious wine bottles were being smashed into pieces.

The lights were suddenly on, and Hermione gaped.

"Draco Malfoy?"

He was there, armed with his wand, in a hooded burgundy silk dressing gown. His hair was disheveled and he still looked …

"Do I know you?" Malfoy asked, taking a couple of steps down. "I thought I felt something was off about my wards."

"You were right. This was my second time here and unfortunately, I've stolen something already," Hermione answered glibly.

"And what did you steal?" he asked, and although his wand was trained on her, his eyes scanned the room.

"Your big old ugly vomit painting," Hermione said.

"Ah, that, priceless."

"Yes."

"And you were successful, why did you come back?" Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow.

"I wanted some wine," Hermione answered truthfully, seeing from the corner of her eyes that they were already gone. "You don't seem sad that your painting was stolen."

"I hated that painting. It was my father's," Malfoy merely tucked his wand back into his pocket and turned around. It seemed as if he was leaving.

"Where are you going, pretty boy?" Hermione asked in a lowered voice.
"To bed."

"Without me?" Hermione asked coquettishly.

Malfoy turned around and raised another eyebrow.

"Do I know you, really?"

Hermione, now daring, tucked her wand back in her pocket and stalked towards Malfoy, who didn't even move a muscle. He was cool, calm, collected.

They were face to face now, and Malfoy was not even in the least bit intimidated. He seemed a little surprised and confused at the same time.

And then, Hermione began caressing the collar of his dressing gown. His eyes followed the movement before frowning slightly at her masked face.

"You do know me, but … I suggest that we get to know each other a little better. What do you think?" Hermione smiled mysteriously, knowing that her red lipstick was on show.

"I don't think so. First of all, you stole from me. You're also wearing a mask. You might be ugly. I don't date ugly," he said matter-of-factly.

"Ouch. That's not a very nice thing to say, Malfoy," she laughed.

"Who are you?"

"Whoever you want me to be," Hermione said, and by now she was already inching towards his neck. "It seemed as if it was fate that we ran into each other again, Malfoy."

"Again? When and where did I run into you previously?"

"Does it matter?"

Malfoy sighed and pulled his robe away from Hermione's clutches.

"Look, you're boring me. If we're going to continue like this, I might as well go back to bed. You can talk here, by yourself. And you can let yourself out when you're done," Malfoy said dismissively and turned around once more.

Something within Hermione stirred and it was some sort of feral passion. It was probably lust because she bit her lip as she watched Malfoy's retreating back and she whispered, "Grrrr, I like this one."

Having whispered that and proclaimed her newfound, uncontained lust for Malfoy, she marched towards him, grabbed him by the robes and kissed him with utmost fervour, knocking their noses and teeth along the way – and she suspected that she had accidentally crushed Malfoy's head against the wall because she heard a passionate 'Ooomph!' that may or may not have been caused by the kiss.

"Mmm, I like you Draco Malfoy," she said, wiping red lipstick off Malfoy's bruised lips.

"Oranges," Malfoy said after two seconds.

"Huh?"

Did he knock his head that hard? He seemed to have that dazed and unfocused look on his face (again, may or may not be caused by the kiss), and Hermione decided to leave it at that.

"'Till next time, bye bye handsome!" Hermione blew him another kiss, summoned her bag and Disapparated.

The next day, Hermione smashed both the vials she acquired from the Healer at St. Mungo's.

TBC!

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