Hermione was already at the office when the Prophet dropped onto her desk. She sighed. She and Cormac had made the front page with a ten-second loop of her kissing him on the cheek while he looked at her adoringly. The paper instructed her to turn to page four for more information on the "story."
She felt queasy, and it wasn't just because she had coffee on an empty stomach. Hermione dug into her bag and retrieved a croissant she had bought earlier that morning.
Nibbling on the comforting pastry, she turned to the dreaded page four. It was as she expected; it told a story of Cormac pursuing her and her relenting after years of denying him. Merlin, Hermione thought, I'm sending a wonderful message to stalkers everywhere. She crumpled up her paper and threw it into the recycling bin.
Then, she withdrew some fresh parchment from one of her drawers to pen a note she had meant to send the previous night, but unsurprisingly had procrastinated.
Demetri,
I regret our run-in last night. As I promised in my last note, I will explain everything to you tonight.
She hesitated at the sign-off. Hermione knew Demetri was incredibly angry with her and there was a good chance he wouldn't show up tonight. But why care? Keep your enemies close and your enemies closer. Perhaps especially the ridiculously attractive ones.
Hermione groaned in frustration, but didn't analyze her motives further as she finished her note.
Yours,
Hermione
She sent out her owl with the message, but the slight feeling of discomfort at her sign off didn't leave her. And then a thought came to her—she had exhausted means of finding out information about Demetri in England. But supposedly the man with a near-perfect British accent wasn't native.
As she wrote a second note to her supervisor, she smiled to herself. Being an Unspeakable did have its advantages.
Nearly the moment she charmed the note to fly to her supervisor, another came in. Attached to a very familiar owl.
Hermione,
Lunch. Our place at noon. No excuses from you.
-Ginny
Ginny had clearly seen the paper and wasn't happy about it, either. Hermione didn't bother responding, knowing nothing she could say—even a true statement about her increasing pile of work—could keep the redhead at bay.
And so a few hours later she sat at the muggle café that had become her meeting spot with the redhead. Hermione was there first. Despite knowing that Ginny was nearly always five to ten minutes late, Hermione could not bring herself to follow suit.
Still, she was less irritated because she was a woman with a plan—a work trip to Durmstrang to speak with a runes expert. She had already been in contact with the man, and wouldn't have thought to go in person, but the enthusiastic expert didn't mind when she floo called him about it after receiving permission from her supervisor. She had plenty of budget left to travel that she rarely felt was practical to use.
Ginny came in and looked around for only a brief moment before setting her glare on Hermione and throwing herself dramatically into her chair. The Prophet was pulled out of her bag next, although Hermione stopped that mid-action.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you," Hermione half-whispered, half-shouted. In an even quieter tone, she leaned forward and reminded Ginny they were in a muggle café.
Ginny looked properly chastised, but only momentarily. "Well, you know what I was going to show you. Are you sabotaging yourself?" Hermione groaned. "You and Demetri are finally dating, and now you're dating a man you've always hated?"
"Demetri and I are not dating," Hermione corrected. "And neither are Cormac and me. He has something on me—can we leave it at that?" Ginny opened her mouth but Hermione just kept talking. "Now if you think you're mad at me, how upset do you think Demetri was when he ran into us last night?"
"What does he have on you—Cormac, I mean?"
"It doesn't matter. My point is let's skip lunch and shop. I have a real date tonight." And I'd like to distract him.
Ginny smiled knowingly. "Dressing up?"
"Something like that."
Just as she had predicted, Demetri never responded to her note. A pathetic power play.
Even more irritating was that they didn't set a time for dinner.
So when a knock sounded at nine o'clock, she resisted groaning out loud as she went to the door.
"It's a good thing that I happen to be excellent at Stasis Charms," Hermione greeted him drily.
Hermione held the door only partly open in defiance of his visit, but he forcefully swung the door open and walked past her. The storm clouds gathering outside seemed to follow him in.
"I never doubted your abilities for a moment, Hermione," was his response, entirely ignoring the irritation underlying her comment. "You made your favorite?"
"Well, you seemed to like that well enough when you made it. And it's not as though there's a plethora of people who seem to know your taste."
Demetri smiled tightly. "Are you criticizing me for secrecy?" Hermione's breath caught as his hand briefly moved for his wand, but he resisted the temptation, instead lunging forward and grabbing her by the waist, pulling her close enough that his face was blurred. She could make out just enough to note the brows knitted together in anger, sitting above blank eyes. "You are keeping me a secret," he seethed. "I don't like that, dear."
"As I said, I'd like to explain," Hermione responded, trying not to get flustered. "Why don't you sit down and we can discuss this at the table?"
Demetri stayed silent, tightening his grip on her. Abruptly, he let go and sat down at the table. Uncharacteristically tense, his arms were crossed and she could see his fingernails digging into his left arm. "Won't you sit with me?" It wasn't a question.
Hermione sat across from him and managed a half-smile. "I don't understand why you're so upset. We haven't even said what this is." She gestured between the two of them.
"I was unaware we needed to do so," Demetri replied tersely. "Or was leaving your undergarments at my apartment just one stop in a tour?"
"Demetri—"
He leaned back in his chair, his fingernails pressing more firmly into his bicep. "I don't like to share. Besides, we have yet to define us, perhaps, but it seems your boyfriend feels fairly secure in your relationship."
Hermione sighed, drumming her fingers on the table and tracing her teeth with her tongue. "We aren't really dating."
"Yes, you already said that," Demetri snapped.
Hermione shook her head. "No, not you and me, Cormac and me. We're just pretending; he's hoping it will help him get a promotion he's after." I may have planted that idea, Hermione added to herself.
"How simultaneously magnanimous and manipulative of you. Why would you do this—shall we say morally gray?—favor?" Demetri's anger mixed with curiosity and seeming respect.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. She was planning on telling him that Cormac had something on her, but chose instead to play into Demetri's positive reaction to her "morally gray" activities, as he called them. "Well, if I can help him get into a more powerful position and have him owe me a favor…" Hermione shrugged as casually as she could muster, as though she played politics all the time.
Following her line of thought, Demetri asked: "Do you do this often? Rack up favors?"
Absolutely not. "It never hurts," Hermione replied cryptically.
"How long is this pretend relationship happening for? I am not a patient man."
"About a month."
"I don't like it."
"Well, I've already agreed," Hermione countered.
Demetri seemed to consider that for a moment before replying. "Fine. How is it going to end?"
"It will peter out, I suppose." Hermione frowned; they hadn't discussed that yet.
"With how thick you laid it on for the Prophet? Take it from a—" there was a noticeable pause and his mouth formed as though to form an "S"—"an interested party. You need to make sure you come out of this unscathed. Don't you already have a reputation for toying with men?"
"Oh, that fucking Rita Skeeter, like anyone believes that trash." A picture of Mrs. Weasley flashed in her mind, but Hermione brushed it away.
"Clearly this is a sensitive subject," Demetri noted, though there was no concern behind the observation.
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
"Still, I think you should settle it."
"That's wise, thank you," Hermione reluctantly responded.
Demetri nodded. "Keep me updated."
"Why do you care so much about my reputation?"
"Because your reputation is my reputation, or will be."
"Demetri… one moment you're completely off the map, and the next you're upset I'm pretending to date someone and telling me our futures are interdependent."
"Off the map? Have I ever not responded to you?"
"Well"—he did have her there—"you're hard to read, at the very least."
Demetri was quiet for a moment, looking at the wall behind her. "Then let me make this easier," he said quietly, still not making eye contact, "I would like to be closer to you."
It didn't sound very romantic, and Hermione almost said so before he turned to face her, his stare unrelenting. She felt as though he saw her very soul in that moment, and heard her voice say as though very far away, "I want that, too."
