This time when the guards appeared at the mouth of his cell Reuben was ready. He was reluctant ever to feel gratitude to anyone outside of his, admittedly diminished, inner circle, especially one he knew as little as her, but he considered feeling it here. Though he was well aware that Hermione's action was a little self-serving, he was likely to be a lot more amenable to this conversation, if he was expecting it to happen.
Mclaggan had come to collect him again, and something began to itch at his brain at the sight of the young auror, he seemed eager and slightly twitchy; excitement wasn't an emotion usually displayed by those visiting him. Reuben came quietly, holding his hands up and standing still for the requisite cuffs and suppression charms to be placed over his body. He hated those charms more than anything. They put him grimly in mind of the Imperious Curse.
He had succumbed to that particular curse only twice in his life. He had heard people describe it as a light, floating feeling, where they no longer worried about individual decisions, they felt free from all resistive shackles of life. It was not the same for him. He would gladly lay himself down to be Crucio'd again and again rather than that, the loss of free will was a much greater pain.
He flinched as the familiar magic settled into his skin but made no other sign of discomfort before following the blond down the dark corridor into the lift.
As they made their way down in the rickety contraption Reuben ran over his objectives for the day in his mind; he had no way of knowing how many other opportunities he would have to meet with her. Every instance was to be exploited to his best advantage.
Soon they were in front of the same room he had been escorted to the last time, and he dipped his head slightly as he was walked through the door. He was moved to sit at the table opposite Granger and Luna Lovegood; he had anticipated she would be the curly haired witch's choice over her father, though it was still slightly odd to see her. Her expression was warmly neutral like she was meeting an acquaintance for tea rather than sitting across from a known killer in this dank hole.
He suppressed his smirk when they secured his feet but once again left his hands free, was it boldness or just a case of misguided empathy that made her do something so stupid? He may not have his magic, but he was more than a match for two women, especially of their stature.
Mclaggen got to the door and Reuben heard him turn before exiting "let me know when your done Hermione" he softly reminded and then the door closed with a soft click.
The itching was back only, this time, it was identifiable. Reuben was so used to assessing people, and it was such an underused skill that people had no idea what they were revealing when the spoke around him. Every tonal change, every hesitation, ever gleam of an eye or twitch of lips had a meaning.
It was the way Mclaggen had said her name, not that he had addressed her by her first name, Reuben could hazard a guess they were either in the same year or close to it and he knew they had been in the same house so they must have known each other. No, it was the slight wistfulness in his tone, he was fairly sure the auror didn't know he was doing it, one glance at Hermione revealed she certainly hadn't picked up on it. He liked her, now the thinly veiled excitement from earlier made more sense.
He observed the little blonde looking sideways at her friend for a moment, so she knew, that was interesting.
A ruffle of paper from the other side of the room alerted him to Luna preparing herself "good afternoon Mr Yaxley" she said picking up a quill "my name is Luna Lovegood, thank you for seeing me today" she smiled lightly at him, and he had to suppress a laugh.
He had heard stories about the girl, of course, many of the Death Eaters he knew had been down to talk to her while she was at Malfoy Manor. He had seen her at meetings once or twice. Conversing with the girl was like talking to a sphinx, everything she said seemed to be a riddle meant for higher minds, most of the time reading like complete nonsense, and yet there was something there, something that lingered behind her eyes that spoke of greater understanding.
There had been talk when he was much younger that her mother, Pandora, had been a Seer but the family had never confirmed it. Not that anyone would, the sight was a rare and powerful gift, though it was unlikely to be one that would be cherished.
Why go to the trouble of pandering to a pampered pet to get your visions when you can oppress a slave into giving them up through fear?
"I wasn't aware I had a choice" he bit out finally. His rough tone made no effect on either face looking back at him, and he curled his arms in front of his chest.
"Yes, well" Hermione took up the reins "after our discussion last time we have decided that the best course of action is to do a piece on you, in The Quibbler, focussing on who you are and your former standing in wizarding society. The eventual idea being to gain some public favour before beginning a lobby for reforms."
Reuben sat back further in his chair, it wasn't what he had been expecting, he would have put money on the little Gryffindor writing a hell and damnation piece on the conditions that would have hushed up by the Ministry immediately.
Whatever expression he had on his face she must have clocked it "Ah… not what you were expecting?" she asked knowingly.
There was no smugness in her tone, but he could detect a trace of it in her eyes, silly girl, she had been underestimating him since he walked through the door the last time.
The interview itself, despite the weirdness of the situation, was strangely sane and competent. Reuben could picture the final article looking similar to the 'bachelor profiles' some of the most elite publications used to put together during the time of the first war. The thought gave him some distaste, but he pushed it down. He would never admit as much, but the idea was a shrewd one, for the first time since he had walked into the room and seen her he could foresee that the plan might at least part way work.
His eyes fell on Hermione again; she had barely spoken since the meeting had begun and he was starting to get frustrated with her lack of participation. He needed to get under her skin, the straw man he had mentally comprised of her personality was not totally holding up under the scrutiny of this visit and he needed to know more, to know how best to proceed with his campaign.
He would have to provoke her.
He got his chance a few moments later when Lovegood politely enquired into marriage and the like, he smirked. By this point, he was confident that anything they did publish would be a highly edited version of this conversation to suit their agenda. Most of them even being her was just to be able to prove the meeting had even happened.
"No, Miss Lovegood, no marriages, or betrothal contracts at any time. At the time that such things would have been relevant to me I was far too interested in getting between their thighs to consider taking them up the aisle" he kept the smirk off his face, barely, but couldn't suppress the slight upturn of his lips.
His crudeness had the desired effect; when he saw Hermione stiffen slightly, though her reaction was far more muted than he had anticipated.
He poked at her regardless; "What's the problem Granger too prudish to think about the joys of sex? Or has it simply been too long since you were given a good seeing too?"
He sat forward in his seat taking up more of the space directly in front of her, trying to turn the screws to antagonise her further.
"Mr Yaxley" she answered with a tone of exasperation that he was almost certain was false "I am fairly sure of the two of us, I would have had more encounters in the past five years."
He was mildly impressed by her calm rejoinder, but her pink cheeks gave away her discomfort, and he was far from done. "That maybe so, but I have alway been a man who is a great believer in quality over quantity. A few tepid flames are not preferable to a raging fire after all" he deliberately thickened his voice smirking when her neck began to colour, and she squirmed in her seat.
Her fingers gripped the quill she was holding, but she looked him straight in the eye "I would think it comes down to the partner of your choice, I dare say a man such as yourself would probably find alone time rather…. Fulfilling" she drew out the word with a raised eyebrow "which is rather useful as that is the only option currently available to you."
"Why Miss Granger, should I take that as a subtle hint into one of your reforms?"
"Hardly" she bit out.
He narrowed his eyes at her in warning, but inside he was gleeful, the little instances she gave where she showed more of herself allowed him to fill in the blanks of the puzzle that was her personality in his mind.
The interview continued, and he needled her at any and every opportunity, sometimes she reacted others she merely ignored. Overall his behaviour had been much more congenial that their first visit though a lot of it was for show, he needed this witch and if he had to play a part to get what he wanted he would. But then, then the atmosphere changed.
"So Mr Yaxley, we have from your notes that you had a younger brother, how did losing him at such a young age affect your life and the succession plans for your house?" Luna's melodic voice drifted across the table, the question floating and tightening around his neck like barbed cords.
His hands clenched the rim of the table, and he felt his blood heat as it accelerated around his body. His right hand flicked instinctively as if moving to release his wand from his holster, but no wand was forthcoming. His mind was quickly becoming awash with red fog until he registered a small voice cutting through the spiralling chaos "ask another question Luna" her voice asked gently.
The soft sound made him snap his head up, his sense of self returning "no" he barked firmly "no more questions".
The silence in the room was heavy for a few seconds before Luna jumped up onto her feet and sashayed to the door, knocking on the solid surface. When it opened he could hear her calm notes "we are done now, I would like to see the cells please" he couldn't see her face, but he knew she was beaming. The effect was mildly disconcerting, even to someone like him.
"That's highly irregular.." he heard Johnson bluster before Mclaggen, that must have still be stood there, affirmed he would take her.
Hermione made to get up, and he raised his face to look at her "not you" he said slowly without breaking his stare, she regarded him a moment before nodding and sitting back down in the chair.
Good girl.
He waited until the door had closed and the sound of voices had died away before he spoke: "that was your idea of an interview?" He didn't hold back the sneer from his tone, the silence having done nothing to take away the bite he felt that lingered on his skin from Luna's question.
"Don't disparage my friend" she answered quietly but surely, stupid fucking Gryffindor, why couldn't she pick up that this wasn't the time to antagonise him. Though, her sense of loyalty was… pleasing.
As he sat back on his chair, he removed the steel vice-like grasp he had on the table before almost suddenly realising his hands were free. He looked up to meet Hermione's eyes and he could see the determination there as well as the wariness. Not wary enough.
He had clocked the roll of her hand sometime after the question had first been asked; he knew she would have palmed her wand, young as she was she was still a veteran of war, begrudgingly he could admit she had seen more action than many.
In a move that was so quick he knew she wouldn't have had time to react, he reached over with one hand to encircle her wrist firmly, the shock stretching her fingers. He used that momentary lapse to grab her wand and let the smirk fall on his face as a flash of fear moved across her features. It was somewhat reassuring to his ego that she didn't view him as some caged, tamed pet.
He idly twirled the end of the wand through the air never breaking eye contact with her. She didn't move, didn't jump up and try and retrieve it like a child who had a toy removed from her cherishing hold she just stared back at him, though he could almost see her brain fighting to come up with a plan.
He narrowed his eyes at her before throwing the slim wood back in her direction. It wasn't as if he could have used it, not with more guards outside, but her reaction had been telling. There was more to this girl than first met the eye.
He saw her shoulders sag almost imperceptibly when her wand was back between her fingers, and she ran a hand up it slowly before placing it down by her hip, underneath the table.
He felt calmer after his power play, more in control, he leant forward again, deliberately invading her space as much as he could before speaking "I want a copy of that article" he demanded.
"That can be arranged" she conceded.
"I want you to bring it to me" he continued.
Her eyebrows raised "why?"
"I may have questions.. And I am warning you no word of my family in that, or there will be consequences."
They stared at each other for an infinite amount of time before she nodded again, it was the second time she had done it. The need to correct her, to tell her to speak her affirmation, her consent, bubbled in his throat. Too many flashbacks of training willing women from their embarrassed silence filtered through his mind, and he straightened in his seat.
He bit the inside of his mouth as he pushed through his ill taste at his next request "I want something from you."
"What do you want?" she asked sounding a little breathier than usual, he had a feeling he would be playing that sentence back to himself later.
"I need a book" his voice remaining unaffected.
"A particular book?" she asked confused.
He fought down his irritation at the conversation; he hated to be in anyone's debt or give anyone the impression they were doing him a favour. "No, anything, well something that might hold his attention."
"His?"
"Do you ever stop asking fucking questions Granger?" he spat.
"Sorry," she answered, not that she appeared contrite in any way. The word seemed to have fallen out of her mouth as a reflex, in fact, she appeared to look mildly annoyed at her response. Over propensity to apologise when she wasn't in the wrong, well maybe life hadn't always been easy for the little golden girl.
"It's for Antonin" he gruffed, and he noticed her tense "problem Granger?"
She shook her head to reply in the negative and his teeth gnashed together to stop himself from chastising her. The desire to grip her chin and pull her face up to look at him was almost overwhelming. Though he knew why she was unruffled. He and Antonin had discussed the girl at length following her meeting with him the last time. Antonin's curse that hit her at the Department of Mysteries was likely to have been an issue at some point.
"It wouldn't have something to do with the scar you have across your torso would it?" he spoke smugly, and he saw the hard line of her mouth as she turned to him.
"He tried to kill me," she said defensively.
So it did scar.
"I would suggest" he began in a tone designed to patronise her, "if that is a stumbling block for you that you leave immediately. Fold up all your nicely colour coded plans to decorate this place, a plan apparently based on a desire to alleviate your over inflated conscious. As you won't find many within this walls that haven't at least attempted the same."
"Who knew the great Hermione Granger would be so egotistical" he continued "is an attempt on your life a crime more heinous than the deaths that could be laid at the rest of our doors?"
"I was fifteen" she implored, but her voice was small. Reuben could see he was getting to her, and adrenaline surged through him as he watched her chest rise and fall from the exertion of their disagreement, he twitched as she sat back in the seat and her eyes fell into her lap in submission to his argument.
Good girl.
"That you were, but your involvement was down to your side, not mine. In any case, you killed one of my friends, so it wasn't as if you were a babe amongst wolves, no matter how you might want to repaint the past."
"I'm sorry?" she looked up then eyes wide with panic.
He almost laughed at her dear in headlights expression, would have, but it wasn't funny.
"When you went to rescue your beloved Potter, you shot Travers in the chest, and he fell to his death."
He had noticed the small shake of her hands before she placed them in her lap under the desk "I… I stunned him" she said falteringly.
"Yes you did, thirty feet in the air."
She was quiet for the longest time before she rested both hands on the table surface again "I will see what I can do".
When Hermione and Luna left the doors of Azkaban, she grabbed Luna almost immediately and apparated them away.
She needed to breathe.
The last visit she had run home and hidden in the bathroom desperate to calm herself down before facing anyone else. This time, she wasn't heading for home.
The popped into a side-street just off Diagon Alley and with a great deal of affected cheer she asked Luna to come to lunch with her to talk over some of the stuff they could use for the article and her general thoughts. When she caught the slightly assessing gaze of her friend she knew Luna wasn't fooled but she didn't care.
She couldn't be alone right now.
Alone she would have to deal with the adrenaline racing through her body, ask herself whether this was the best plan, chastise herself for letting him grab her wand, question her intentions as she knew she should have reported it.
But mostly?
Mostly she would have to address why her heated skin felt like gooseflesh and why his impassioned words had struck something so deep in her they felt as if they were cloaking her soul.
A/N big hugs to Kreeblim Sabs who Alpha reads this for me, who last week uploaded a new fic Ophelia which you should ALL go check out.
Advanced warning that next week I am going on a writing break for two weeks, normal posting will resume after that.
Thank you to all of your reviews and adds to lists I really appreciate it.