A/N: *Sigh* Holy Guacamole, it's here. So let's do a recap. Loki left. Hermione's angry and self destructive. Nott sent her to Louisiana to kill Frack. Frack showed her Draco's remains, and we left her kind of pissed off. Let's see what she did about it, shall we? ;)
And let's see if Loki makes a cameo this chapter? Gosh darn it, that man's cutie pie face will be the death of me. *swoons*
Apologies for any errors.
Behold, Chapter 11!
Cold fingers wiped at her cheek, and Hermione opened her eyes in time for a puff of cigarette smoke to climb right into the sockets. She inhaled the scent and coughed, her vision darting around to finally settle and absorb Nott crouching over her.
"Can you move?" he said.
Hermione stared dully at him.
Nott pinched his cigarette between his teeth and swiveled his gaze on the mud surrounding her, his expression troubled. His thumb and fingers reached at the deep laceration slanted below her jaw and stretching to the middle of her clavicle. She saw his throat bob, and his brown eyes narrow.
"Pucey! Davies! Get over here!" he barked.
"Who do you reckon this is?" Hermione heard Tracy ask, and she forced her head to turn and see the woman gesturing to Malfoy's remains in the metal box.
"I have a hunch," Nott replied shortly. "Now let us focus on Granger, shall we? Grab me your essence of dittany."
Hermione's vision blurred as Tracy squelched her way closer through the mud and knelt down. She heard the woman gasp and then swear colorfully.
"Holy shit! How much should I use?" The sound of hands diving into a leather satchel filled Hermione's ears.
Determined, angry hands shredded her shirt, and she heard Pucey say from a distance, "Use it all!"
Passed the three bodies hunched over her, Hermione watched two large ravens circle each other in the sky far above them until she succumbed to a deep level of unconsciousness. It wasn't sleep and was long lasting and like she'd been trapped. There were times she wanted to wake up, especially when she felt as though she were being sucked into a hole and dropped from the sky.
When she woke up again, she was in a bed and feeling so much better. Physically, that is. Beside her was a rack looped with four IV bags, two of them clearly Blood Replenishing potion, and the other two clear liquids. Hermione thought back to the faces she saw at the bayou and called out for Nott, but it was Tracy who came running in, her eyes red and cheeks a bit puffy. For a second, Hermione thought the woman may've been crying over her, but immediately bagged that notion. They had never been chummy back in the day. Tracy was clearly shedding a few over Malfoy. She…They must know by now.
"How're you feeling?" asked Tracy, coming over to assess the progress of the IV bags. "Do you feel tingly? It's the Blood Replenishing potion and the saline."
Hermione touched the bandages over her neck and clavicle, and Tracy leaned over to gingerly peel it back little by little. She smiled bitterly when the soiled bandages were off. "There's no scar. It's gone, the wound." She gave Hermione a sympathetic look. "So are the whipping lacerations on your back. I'm a miracle worker. I prove again I'm just as good at saving lives as I am taking them."
Hermione licked her dry lips and said hoarsely, "I'm sorry."
Tracy tossed the bandage in the rubbish bin nearby. "We knew he was gone, Granger." She started a non-purposeful pace. "But Frack is dead. You did it." She inhaled and nodded. "And you lived, even though none of us know how. Your wounds should've killed you. You were literally marinating in your own blood by the time we got there. The Slicing Hex you suffered ripped your carotid and made ribbons of your torso. You should see your hair."
Hermione sighed, her focus falling to the side on the clock on the bedside table, reminding her she had two hours until she needed to be at Le Bernadin.
Like it mattered at this point.
"And how'd my Slicing Hex do?" Hermione asked flatly. "My Sectusempra?"
Tracy stopped her pacing, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She stared at Hermione for a while before saying, "It took his head off."
A butcher she was, indeed.
"How'd Nott find me?"
"The ferret."
"The ferret," Hermione repeated, thinking back to the figurine. "I gave Malfoy that ferret fifteen years ago. How was Nott able to track me with it?"
"Because one year ago, Theo charmed it to when the spare wand was unhidden, it would alert him, letting him know Draco was on his Plan B and would likely need an extraction as soon as possible."
Gnawing on her bottom lip, Hermione felt unshed tears prick at her eyes. She'd given Malfoy that figurine as a good luck charm back when they were in Auror training at the academy as a peace offering and an attempt of friendship like her therapist instructed her to do at the time.
"Make a friend to someone you wouldn't imagine befriending, Miss Granger," Healer Shang requested shrewdly. "Maybe someone who may have been on the opposing side of the war. If you are looking to be an Auror, I suggest you go forth with forgiveness. You will progress in the academy with resentment and hostility, and you will take that into the field. Don't make the job personal. It'll get ugly if you do. So do as I'm telling you and forgive at least one person who may've wronged you. I want to hear all about your attempt next week, all right?"
Hermione put a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I want that ferret. Where is it?"
"I'm sure Theo has it."
"I also want my wand."
"Theo got it off Frack."
"I'd like to go. Are we back in New York?" Hermione kicked off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glowering sadly at the needle shoved into the crease of her arm. She looked at the bags, one of them empty and the others three-quarters gone before yanking the IV out of her vein.
"We're at Theo's flat," said Tracy, "and there's no way he's going to let you leave without a debriefing."
Hermione stood up and then braced herself against the bedside table until she regained her equilibrium. "I quit, therefore, no debriefing. I don't have to."
"You can't just quit."
"I wasn't even technically hired. It was a test, and I passed it. Yay me, but I changed my mind. I don't really want to be Nott's bitch again. It was too silly the first time around. I don't know what I was thinking." Hermione walked by Tracy and into the hallway. She came to the sitting room and off into the corner was a spiral stairwell which she climbed. It led to another sitting room, this one smaller and more of a casual loft. There was a set of double doors in between two large bookcases, and she opened one of them, pursing her lips when seeing Nott arguing in French with his ignited hearth behind his desk.
Hermione knew a 'debriefing' would have to wait. Despite experiencing which would most likely be the third or fourth worst day of her life, Hermione had personal affairs to take care of. Later, she'd deal with this whole thing later. She'd speak with Nott later. She'd mourn Draco Malfoy later. Right now, she had to save her friendship with Jane.
She had to pretend she didn't spend the majority of the night tied to a whipping post where Frack whipped her and his lackeys shot Crucio after Crucio at her. She had to pretend they didn't drag her from that filthy room and into another while she was forced to watch a gang-raping and murder of a teenage girl. She had to pretend she hadn't unearthed the pieces of a former friend.
After dinner, though, Hermione would stop pretending.
Tracy pulled a black case out of her satchel that lay on the dresser of the room Hermione woke up in. She unzipped it and plucked out a pair of scissors, opening and closing the shears. "You can't go out in public with your hair the way it is."
One of Frack's Slicing Hex blows had shorn off a third of her hair at a much shorter length, starting at the right side. Hermione sat on a chair in the middle of Nott's guest bathroom while Tracy cut and cut and cut and cut. When she finished, Hermione looked in the mirror and touched the ends of her tresses that fell about three inches below her chin.
"I may have got carried away," Tracy confessed, sighing softly.
Hermione cast an observant eye on the woman through the mirror, taking in her flushed face and bloodshot retinas. Her hands shook as she tidied up the stray hairs of Hermione's shorn do, and her chest stuttered. Finally, Hermione asked, "How long were you and Draco a thing?"
Tracy paused for a millisecond and then continued on with the shears. "We weren't."
"Why not?"
"Because," Tracy cleared her throat, her lips pursing, "he was in love with someone else."
Hermione frowned, troubled.
Setting down the scissors and Hermione was ever so glad, Tracy went rifling through the cabinets and drawers for something, revealing a canister of pomade. "You know he went looking for you after he found out you and Weasley divorced. Couldn't find you. Anywhere. Heard through the grapevine you went to Norway. Lice-combed it and still couldn't find you."
A mixture of exasperation, hurt, and sorrow hit Hermione in the chest like a car trapped on the tracks at a very unfortunate time. Sharply, she replied, "He shouldn't have come looking."
Tracy's mouth cinched shut tightly, like she wanted to say something but was doing her best to hold it in. From the narrowed look in her eyes, Hermione gathered it was something born out of resentment and wanted to tell her that Malfoy was too complicated of a fellow to defend, even in death.
"Can I ask you something?" Tracy said, albeit forceful, her pomade fingers yanking at Hermione's locks. "Why didn't you go to him after your divorce?"
Hermione stared, lips parted in surprise. Eventually, she was able to find her words. "It didn't even cross my mind."
From Tracy's expression, she didn't believe Hermione and that was fine.
"All right," the woman said after a few seconds. "Then I'll ask why you rejected him in the first place when you had clearly loved him."
"Davies!"
"Everyone in the office knew how you two felt about each other, Granger. After what happened in New Orleans, it was obvious."
Hermione pulled away from Tracy's violent fingers and stood up from the chair, turning to glare at her. "He was my partner. My friend. That is why I blew the entire operation."
"That job with Interpol was meant for one person, and you demanded he be hired, too, right alongside you. You fought for him all through the academy and training. You nearly died for him on that mission. You loved him, and you knew it then and you know it now. Why did you say no when he couldn't take just being your friend anymore?"
"I'm not going to talk about this with you." Hermione brushed the gobs of hair from her shoulders and walked briskly out of the bathroom and towards the closet, throwing the doors open, unsure of what she'd find. She needed clothes. Nice clothes for that stupid dinner at the ridiculously expensive restaurant with Jane and her looney band of acquaintances. Hermione unzipped one of the garment bags and peered inside. "These must be yours."
"They're for all Nott's agents. Each guest room is stocked with miscellaneous outerwear. They're for the field." Tracy huffed and shook her head while Hermione tossed the garment bag on the bed and went digging through the drawers in search of underwear. "Nott's going to explode if you leave without the debrief."
"I have somewhere I have to be." Hermione shirked the robe and donned knickers, a bra, and a pair of black, sheer tights.
"More important than the debrief?"
"No, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't go." Tugging the dress over her head, she dove into the floor of the closet and searched for a pair of shoes, coming up with a pair of black pumps. She took them with her into the bathroom and tossed them on the rug by the sink, examining her reflection while her hands searched blindly for a makeup bag. When she found one, she set it on the counter and looked Tracy who stood in the doorway, a disapproving scowl on her face. "Are your hands still shaking? How badly now?"
Tracy showed her hands, and there was a slight tremble. Hermione studied her own and said, "I need you to do my makeup, please. You can tell Nott I'll be back late tonight. He'll believe me because he'll still have my wand. I'll tell him everything that happened."
Tracy let out a ragged breath and shrugged one shoulder, exhaustion visibly overtaking her. "All right, but you could just apply a glamour."
Hermione looked at her shaking hands again. "I don't think I can right now. At least not a strong enough one."
After Tracy applied Hermione's makeup, she dug through the bathroom drawers again and found a silver hairclip and fastened Hermione's hair halfway.
"There. You look like an alive human being now. Are you going on a date?" Tracy's tone was resentful and mildly disgusted.
"I'm salvaging my friendship with my cousin by dining with her friends. I said some regrettable things to her before I left for Louisiana."
Lips pursed unpleasantly, the other witch replied, "Can't it wait?"
"Probably, but if I'm being truthful, I'd like to see her as soon as possible after the night I had." Hermione sent Tracy a shrewd look. "I'm not leaving the city."
"You wouldn't get far if you did. Nott would find you."
Hermione nearly made a faux pas by reminding her how Malfoy couldn't, but it was too soon. For both of them. She'd hurt Tracy and herself by saying such words.
On the dot, Hermione arrived at Le Bernardin, spotting Jane in the waiting area. Jane caught her stare and gaped, her eyes bulging at the sight of her cousin.
"Your hair, oh my God." Jane went towards Hermione, her hands on her mouth, perplexed. "Why?"
"Does it look bad?
"It's so short. I don't even know what to think except how your mom is going to kill you. Did you do this in Boston?" Jane then gestured to Hermione's LBD. "And this?"
"I got the job. Thought I'd do something…I don't know really." Hermione shrugged, her wince turning into a pained grin. Her features then sobered. "I don't think I'll take it."
In the baby sling around Jane's torso, Daphne cooed and her mother absentmindedly rubbed her head. "You don't look like yourself," she said quietly. "It's not bad."
Hermione ducked her chin. "I'm sorry about what I said last night and for leaving so abruptly. With him gone and life moving forward, I wanted to be distracted."
"Were you?"
Taking a moment to reflect on her night, she then replied, "Being in that environment again, as ridiculous as it sounds, I realized there are worse feelings than a broken heart. I was overwhelmingly distracted. From the moment I hung up the phone last night until now, I hadn't thought about Loki at all." Hermione cast a cautious gaze on Jane. "And I don't know if I'm quite ready for that."
"Well," Jane started lightly, linking her arm through Hermione's and guiding them by the maitre d, "I know the wounds are still fresh, and I could lecture you on how he's not worth your thinking time, but I won't. I will say you should consider working again. Maybe not with Interpol if you really don't want to be that busy but with something that…Hey, why don't you go back to school?"
"School," Hermione repeated, testing the word on her tongue and finding it rather abstract. "We'll chat about this later."
Unlike Jane, Thor complemented Hermione on her hair, though she suspected he was merely politely addressing the change.
Stark, Pepper, Thor, and a man who Hermione recognized as Captain America were already seated at a table. From the way the three were seated, it was clear Jane was right in saying Stark and Pepper planned to set their friend up with her. Hermione would have to sit by him. When she caught his apprehensive, blue-eyed look of inquiry, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed though the caution never quite left his expression.
Mr. Steve Rogers was relieved she wasn't hideous, but he wasn't interested.
Ever the gentleman, however, he stood up from the table which made her smile, albeit rather weakly, and offer his hand. She took it, shaking it gently while he introduced himself.
"Steve Rogers," he said firmly.
"Hermione Granger."
She felt his hand still.
"I wasn't aware you're English," he explained. "I met Jane earlier today and assumed you were American."
"Yeah, he was going to bring an adorable mini replica of his shield as a gift for you. Told him to leave at it home," Tony quipped. "Didn't say why. By the way, your hair, Hermione, I just can't."
"I wasn't," Steve hurriedly said.
"Your hair is super cute," Pepper said.
Hermione dipped her chin at Pepper in gratitude and then turned her attention back to Steve Rogers. "It…would have been a strange gift, but I'm not opposed to red, white, and blue, Mr. Rogers. They are my colors, as well." She sat down on her chair, and he surprised her by helping her scoot her chair. "I'd somehow make do with the star."
Rogers sat down, fiddling with his bowtie. It was sort of askew, and Hermione contemplated adjusting it for him, but she wasn't feeling that polite. The gesture may come off as flirty even and despite his handsomeness, she wasn't interested either.
A thick, potent layer of awkwardness started to settle. No one was talking and both Jane and Pepper seemed to be on the hopeful lookout for the waiter with the wine menu and complimentary bread. The only person who was sort of at ease was Tony who finally thought it a good time to take off his aviators.
"Well, Cap," he cleared his throat, "since you're not interested in the hot, usually mouthy woman I brought for you, and none of us can get the luxury of watching you two kids fall in love, I guess we have to talk about Loki. Bummer."
"Not here," Pepper said hastily.
"I agree. Let us wait," Thor said.
"Fine. We'll talk about James Buchanan Barnes."
Pepper covered her face, hanging her head and shaking it.
"Tony," Steven hissed in warning.
"I just don't feel our previous conversations were all that informative regarding your pal," Tony said innocently. "Have you found him yet?"
"What are you two talking about?" asked Thor.
In the space of fifteen seconds, the mood at the table went from awkward to on edge, and Hermione contemplated grabbing Jane by the arm and hauling her out of the restaurant before it decided to not hold the rising testosterone levels. Thankfully, the tone was taken back a margin when the waiter arrived with the wine menus and promises to bring whipped, sweetened butter and freshly baked bread.
Once the waiter left their table with their wine and drink orders, Pepper jumped in by asking, "So, Hermione, I heard you had a job interview in Boston with Interpol. How'd it go?" before anyone else could speak.
Hermione now wished the waiter had never come.
"She was offered it," Jane answered, her smile small but proud.
"That's wonderful, Hermione," said Thor. "When will you start?"
Tony held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Interpol? Her?"
Sitting back in her seat, Hermione said nothing and tuned out while Jane defended her while Tony poked fun. Soon the table was in uproar again, four against one while the fifth—the subject of the argument—went to grin gratefully at the waiter pouring wine into her glass and froze when seeing Nott glaring murderously down at her. He leaned downward far enough to whisper, "In five minutes, you're going to excuse yourself to the ladies' room," and then carried on pouring wine in the other patrons' glasses.
Five minutes later, the argument was still going, though not has heated and about something else entirely. Something about shields and hydras. Hermione excused herself, but only Jane vaguely noticed.
Hermione didn't quite make it to the lavatory. She was in the hallway, the door in sight, when she was grabbed from behind and felt the uncomfortable tug beneath her navel. Her surroundings spun and changed, stabling in an office. They were facing a desk with an inflamed hearth behind it and a rather grotesque and crude painting of Hogwarts resting above the mantle.
"I was coming back," she growled out, wriggling out of Nott's hold which proved to be pointless, for he slammed her body on the rug beneath their feet, knocking the wind out of her. His forearm pressed into her sternum, and he bore his entire weight on her body.
"You never leave before the debrief!" he snarled.
"I had somewhere to be. I was coming back, you arse." She coughed, air becoming an issue.
"I saw your friends. Are you barking mad? Mixing yourself with that lot? You abandoned your debrief to put yourself and our world in danger!"
"You're one to talk. You bloody Disapparated where anyone could've seen."
Nott bared his teeth; however, the effect was lost when his glasses slid off his face and pelted her on the forehead before falling to the floor. She frowned, no longer struggling to get out from under him. It was all rather irritating, him crushing her into his priceless, Middle Eastern rug, but this wasn't really about her ditching the debrief.
"I'm sorry about Draco," she said.
He brought his head down farther, his nose touching hers. "Are you?"
If someone were to walk in on them in such a state, Hermione knew what would be going through their heads. That person may think a scandalous scene had just greeted them. On the contrary, Hermione was truthfully unperturbed by Nott's unorthodox proximity in order to get his point across, and she suspected the last thing on his mind right now was anything carnal. Guessing on his level of sorrow and anger, she could grab his hand and force it on her breast, and he'd respond by breaking her wrist.
"He was my friend, too, once," she reminded.
"Once," he said. "A part of you must be thinking how he deserved to die."
"You want to fight, don't you, Theodore? You're so angry." Her hand reached into his vest and pulled out his wand, touching the tip of it to her temple and extracting a liquid-y wisp. Nott stared at it, and she said, "Perhaps this will get you by until my evening is over."
"What is it?"
"Frack's death." She waved the wand to and fro teasingly, her expression anything but. "Go on. Take it."
Nott stole back his wand and got off her, darting to his desk and grabbing an empty vial from his drawer. The memory billowed inside the tiny glass, and he corked it, focus trained on his prize.
"I'll expect your return before eleven," he said. "I'll hunt you down and make a scene if you don't." He gave her a wicked sideways glance. "And you won't like it."
Hermione Apparated to the restaurant and the table where she was promptly ignored as was Jane so it seemed. The men and Pepper were still on the subject of shields and hydras but had apparently added furies to the mix while Hermione had left.
The tone quieted when their meals arrived, and no one seemed keen on ordering dessert. On the taxi ride to Stark Tower, Mr. Steve Rogers must've pitied her, for he joined her. He even hailed the cabbie and opened the door for her and then joined her.
"Tony's found a closet for me to sleep in," he explained and then shot her an apologetic grimace. "I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I don't want you to think bad about me, but I also don't want to give you the wrong impression. You seem like a great girl."
"I don't think bad about you. I'm also not offended you don't fancy me." She cocked her head to the side. "I do have to point out you didn't even try to get to know me tonight."
Mr. Steve Rogers surprising cracked a smile at her words. "Neither did you."
"You're the man. It's your job to initiate."
"So you're old fashioned." He nodded, both enlightened and amused. "I can respect that."
"I imagine you can." Hermione bit her lip and considered him, her eyes resting on his face. "I didn't want to make things weird in there, but my grandfather was a POW in Rosano. Thank you. For saving his life."
"Your grandpa served in World War II?"
Hermione nodded, her expression turning queer. "So did Jane's on her father's side. It was a thing."
"Now I know this can't work out," Mr. Steve Rogers said lightly. "I'm old enough to be your grandpa."
"Nothing has to work out, Mr. Rogers, or even start. I'm probably more uninterested in courting than you are," she said somberly. "If you're staying at Mr. Stark's for a while, I wouldn't mind befriending the man who saved my grandfather. He told me stories of you, you know? Nothing too detailed. The war had been a very unhappy experience for him, but he spun fanciful tales of a ridiculously dressed man who was so brave, it mattered not what he wore."
Mr. Steve Rogers smile was touched and genuinely happy. When Hermione returned the sentiment, it hurt, and she was remembered it may be too soon to feel such positivity. A man she hated who loved her was dead, and she was devastated.
Hermione wished for Loki as stupid as it was and loathed the idea of seeking solace in Nott. If Loki were within tangibility, she could talk to him. Be free with him. He hadn't minded her secrets.
Or at least he pretended not to mind.
Insides shuttering from the need to wrack from a good sob, Hermione swallowed the gall in her throat. She was having a very bad month and like Nott, she was angry beyond reason. With Frack. With Nott. With Draco. With Loki. The last two were heavily competing with each other, and Hermione knew there was no dignity in despising the dead, but good God, leave it to Malfoy to rile her up, even in death.
"Something wrong?"
Hermione sighed. She failed in schooling her features and had carelessly allowed her inner turmoil to surface, and Mr. Steve Rogers noticed. Lovely. She imagined spewing out something along the lines of, "I know we don't know each other well enough for me to confide in you. Truthfully, I should be telling Jane this and likely will in time. While I was in Boston this morning, I found out someone I knew very well had passed away. A few years ago, he'd done something to upset me a great deal and lead to unfortunate life-experiences for both of us. I hated him for it, but now that he's gone, I'm quite downtrodden. I also witnessed a young girl gang-raped, tortured, and murdered last night."
Oh, Mr. Steve Rogers really had no idea.
A quarter to eleven, Hermione Apparated into Nott's office. He was sitting at his desk, Hermione's wand and Malfoy's ferret in front of him. She grabbed the former and touched the tip of it to her temple, gingerly extracting a much longer memory wisp than before.
"Consider this my debrief," she said while Nott pulled out a vial from his drawer. She poured the memory into it, and he capped it. He sat back in his chair, his fingers fiddling with the vial.
"Are you sure you want to part with them?"
"I don't want the job."
Nott's grin was eerie and unnerving. "I don't accept your resignation."
"I was never really hired."
He set the vial on the table and stood up, buttoning his blazer. "Every morning, you're to run five miles. Every night before you go to sleep, you're to do thirty minutes of Pilates, thirty minutes of tai chi, an hour of offensive and defensive spells with and without your wand. You are to avoid dairy, desserts, and dating. You will under no circumstance allow a white flour-based item on your tongue. You will keep alcohol consumption at a minimum as you will caffeine. One cup of coffee in the morning post run. A cuppa in the afternoon. Every Sunday morning at six, you're to be here where you are to verify your progress. You walked on the Frack job, it's time for you to learn to crawl again."
"I'm not going to work for you. I've made up my mind."
"I've reopened your previous account. I know a guy. Your money should be there in a few hours. It's a handsome sum. Only the best for the one who offed Frack. I'll admit. Not all of it's from me. Mother England and these Yanks wanted to show their appreciation, as well."
"I'm not cut out to be a hit witch anymore. In the park, everything you said was right, Theodore," she said, her voice quivering.
He circled the desk and shoved his hands into his trousers. "Hermione, are you really going to prove me right? Now? When you've come so close persuading me you're actually worth vouching for? You killed Gellous Frack. A man who made Tom Riddle look like an unfortunate case of body odor. You did it on your own. You probably suffered a great deal before you got your shot to finish it, and here you are standing in front of me fourteen hours after discovering Draco's body. You're sullen. Perhaps in need of good cry, but you're standing. You're showing me you are strong, so don't let Frack be the monster who broke you. Don't give him the satisfaction. There would be no greater dishonor to Draco if you did."
Hermione opened her mouth, yet no word was uttered. She was incapable of speech, and it felt like Nott was crushing her again. She couldn't breathe. He pinched her chin to get her attention and then cupped her shoulder and guided her into a hug. Her breath hitched, and he shushed her.
"Don't cry," he ordered gently.
"Please."
His chin rested on her head. "No."
Bending her knees and resting her palms on her knees, Hermione gasped for air, sweat pouring out of her. She unzipped her long sleeved running top a fraction to let the cool air work its magic. She looked at her watch and sighed in disappointment. She'd done worse than the previous day, damn it! It took her an hour to run five miles and yesterday it had been fifty-five minutes.
It might've been the stroller.
Daphne whimpered. She was having a swimmingly good time propelling forward at a decent speed.
Hermione caught a whiff of something fresh and wonderful and stood to see the bagel cart twenty or so feet away. The vendor has tormented her daily for the past few days with his all white-flour based bagels and homemade cream cheese.
She smelled the blueberry ones, and her mouth watered.
Said vendor lifted said bagel up in the air by a wax sheet and called out to her. "Bagel?"
Daphne made an 'oooo' sound.
"They're pretty good, you know," said Steve, stopping at her side looking aggravatingly pristine in his tight shirt and jogging pants. The only thing blemished about him were his scuffed Nike trackers.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, straightening.
"Same thing you are."
"This is my route."
"It's a good one."
"Central Park is huge. Can't you find another?"
Steve shot her a confused look, and she realized she was being defensive and rude for not bloody reason. Hadn't she wanted to be his friend? And he was probably the nicest out of all the Avengers, though, she'd only met three. "I'm sorry. Of course you can run wherever you please. I'm just…insanely jealous how un-sweaty you are."
Steve chuckled and scratched his neck sheepishly. "Truth is, Hermione, Thor asked me to follow you."
"Oh."
"He doesn't like you running alone. He knows New York City is dangerous enough without the Chitauri flying in for a visit."
"I can take care of myself."
"You also have his daughter with you this morning."
"I can take care of her, too."
"Hey, I'm just doing a favor for a friend, and he has the right to worry. You're his family." Steve's boyish features lit up in a grin. "I'm not going to stop looking out for you. Even if I have to run super slow to keep in stride."
Hermione scoffed and rolled the pram to the nearest bench, propping foot up on it to stretch. Over her shoulder, she watched Steve smile goofily at Daphne who crooned flirtatiously up at him
"She's a knock out," he commented. "Thor's going to have his hands full when she starts liking boys."
"She might like girls."
Steve laughed and dropped his head. "Yeah, she might. I forget about things, sorry."
"You don't have to apologize. I was just being smart with you. Of course Thor will be an overprotective father when it comes to his daughter courting."
"Yeah, it won't help she'll have the Avengers as uncles."
Hermione chose to not disclose that all of them, with the exception of Thor, would be dead long before Daphne reached courting age. It'd ruin the moment. According to Eir, there would come a time where Daphne's growth would start to slow significantly. Eir theorized in her pre-adolescent years, but it was anyone's guess. Hermione had done some research of her own and discovered Daphne to not be the first bi-species child in Asgardian history. However, each individual's physical and mental development varied, and there hadn't been enough of them at once to study.
Steve gestured at Daphne, asking Hermione, "Can I?"
"If you can figure out how to get her out of it, then sure."
Fifteen seconds later. "What in the world?" grunted Steve, yanking on Daphne's straps.
"They're supposed to be childproof, but I think if we wrapped the entire planet in these straps, we'd never get invaded again."
Finally, Steve managed to unbuckle Daphne from the pram and scooped her out. She was bundled and warm in her thick, puffy coat and tiny boots. Hermione retrieved a bottle from the case beneath the handles and handed it to Steve. He tucked Daphne in one arm and positioned the bottle with the other. He shrugged at her, his lips quirking. "I watched Jane and Thor do it a couple of times."
"You're doing fine," she said, propping her other leg up and looking around. The hairs on the back of her neck had just sprang up. They were being watched. Beside a tree, at least a meter away, a man stared in their direction. He wore faded jeans and a baseball cap. His hair was dark and long, coming to his shoulders, and Hermione frowned when seeing something metallic poking out of the sleeve of his burly winter coat.
"What are you looking at?" Steve followed her line of sight. "Bucky," he whispered and shoved Daphne into her arms to go running after the man standing by the tree.
Hermione went to call after him when she heard, "Bagel?" from behind her. She whipped around and saw Loki dressed as the bagel man. Her heart jerked up in her throat, and she tried yelling at Steve, his name falling silent on her lips. She touched her throat and glared balefully at her former lover.
"Look at him run," Loki said gleefully. "He's so excited, he's practically wetting himself in anticipation."
Steve made it to the man and went to touch his shoulders but flickered and then evaporated out of existence. He stepped back, shocked and the snapped his head up to see Hermione and the bagel man beside her whose clothing morphed into a leathery and metallic concoction of black and green.
"Hermione!" he yelled.
Loki curled his fingers around the hairs which had fallen from Hermione's ponytail and yanked. Hermione had no choice but lean his way to avoid pain. "Put the child in its pram," he ordered.
With his hands still gripping her hair, he allowed Hermione to bend and put Daphne in her stroller. Literally, a second she was standing at the top of a rocky, snow-covered hill that sloped down into a rugged valley that inclined to a mountain on the other side. She shivered, the cold air and snow attacking her like being slapped all over with pinpricks. She felt the magic around her vocal cords release, and she asked, "Where are we?"
"A not so great distance from a place called Nordkapp."
Hermione slapped him hard, and it hurt her hand probably more than it did his face, but she didn't care. She didn't care one bit, the bastard!
"How dare you!" She slapped him again. "How dare you just leave! I could murder you, you revolting cockroach!" She shoved his shoulders, and he barely swayed. "I think I will." She pulled her wand from the strap beneath her sleeve and pointed it at his nose.
"Your hair is atrocious."
"Reducto!"
The spell's, hardly capable in harming the likes of him, had enough momentum to force him to lose his balance and topple backwards off the hill they stood on, but his reflexes were quick. He clasped her wrist, and they both toppled over. Rolling and sliding down the bumpy slope. Snow lodged its way into Hermione's mouth, up her shirt, down her running trousers, and her shoes. On the way down, she collided with Loki several times, bruising her hips and ribs. In the jumble of it, she spotted his dagger and pulled it from his sheath. When they're tumbling slowed at base of the slope, she used the momentum to land on top of him and press the blade to his throat.
"It was all a lie, wasn't it?!" she seethed.
Loki narrowed his eyes, remaining still beneath her and saying nothing.
"You disgust me! I can't believe the effort you put in. And all that time, you were married to someone else! I bet you were having a good laugh on the inside. I understand your endgame with leaving Asgard and finishing what you started with the Chitauri and whatnot, but what did I have to do with anything? What was I to you exactly?"
"It appears," he started, "my brother has tattled. Sigyn means nothing to me, Hermione."
"Neither of us do." It had all been lies, and the surprise should've worn off by now, but it hadn't. It stung. It still stung so badly. She'd loved him. She'd been all in. She scooted all her chips into the middle of the table and set down her cards and said 'to hell with it', and she got burned for it.
"You know that to be untrue," he murmured, moving his arm in an attempt to cup her face, and she flinched away from his touch.
"Do I? You gave me a ring knowing we couldn't marry. You even went so far as to push the idea of marriage on me, to make me want it, so it would be that more satisfying to you. You're not a trickster, Loki Odinson, you're sick. You corrupt the simplest, most beautiful things and make them nightmares because you get bored. You disgust me, and I'd like to think I had it easier than Sigyn. I can't imagine being stuck with you forever."
In a blink, Hermione was on her back and the dagger was tossed. Loki pinned her down and hissed, "You are stuck with me forever! Whether or not we married, that apple will forever tie us together."
"It won't. I'm not going to live forever, Loki." She swallowed and flared her nostrils. "Thor told me it can be reversed."
A complete and total lie but judging from Loki's reaction, there could be a counter to apple's doings.
"You won't go through with it. Not only will you lose your fertility, you'll be leaving Jane to the wolves. I'll make her miserable, I swear it. She and Daphne—"
Loki was cut off from a heavy shower of color hitting ground several feet away from them. Ice and dirt billowed out towards them, and Thor emerged from it, his jaw set and features grim. He hoisted Loki off Hermione who scrambled to her feet and hurriedly picked up her wand at the base of the slope.
Loki glared at Thor, his expression hostile and perplexed. Hermione caught his eye and unzipped the collar of her running pullover, revealing a pulsating piece of fiber-glass linked to a thick cord wrapped around her neck. "Tracking device," she said. "I anticipated you'd show sooner or later, and Jane made one for me just in case."
A brief flicker of betrayal washed over him but was quickly replaced by cocky bravado. He smirked and shrugged. "You'll regret handing me over, my dear Hermione."
"You will not threaten her, Loki," Thor warned.
"But it's a promise, brother," he said, his mirthful tone cold. "Alas, there's a chance she may not live to see. The abomination in her belly may very well end her existence despite her peculiarities. Slowly freezing to death from the inside cannot be a pleasant way to go."
Hermione ignored the side glance Thor sent her, keeping her face neutral and jaw set. He would not get a rise out of her just yet.
"There's got to be more. Are you sure there's not anything else you'd like to add, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione did not cower beneath the one-eyed gaze of the man called Director Fury. She kept her spine straight against the chair in Tony's dining room and her shoulders square. He did not intimidate her. He was a serious man and perhaps ruthless, but she'd dealt with far worse. Nott was her boss, after all.
"He appeared in Central Park and took me to Norway. That's it. We were gone for all of two minutes."
"A lot can happen in two minutes." Fury started to pace casually. "So why did he take you?"
"He harassed me in Asgard. Why should it be different here?"
Fury wasn't impressed with her answer. He wasn't impressed by this unnecessarily long interrogation. So far, she hadn't given him anything remarkable and neither had Thor.
"Director Fury," Hermione said, folding her arms, "I gave you all I have on this, so I'm going to ask you a question. What do you think I'm not telling you?"
Fury placed his palms on the table, leaning forward, his gaze solid and steady. After a few beats, he said, "You can go."
Hermione left the area, passing the rec room and spotting Thor, Tony, and Steve at the mini bar. When Thor saw her, he jumped from his stool and rushed to her, asking, "Fury was not harsh with you, was he?"
"No. Just annoyed."
Steve appeared behind him. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, thank you." She gnawed on her lips briefly. "Where is he being held?"
Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Thor beat him to it. "Do not worry yourself with that. Go and see Jane. She's waiting for you."
She nodded and took the elevator down to Jane's and Thor's suite where her cousin was pouring over her disorganized pile of notes and photographs on the coffee table in the sitting room whilst nursing a mug of hot tea. When Jane noticed her, she set it down quickly and wryly commented, "Do you want go swing by a drug store?"
Frowning, Hermione sat down by Jane, sinking into the couch cushion and saying, "Thor just couldn't keep it to himself, could he?"
"We should go. Just in case."
"I'm not pregnant, Jane."
"I know you haven't had your period yet."
"I'm not due for a couple of days."
"Aren't you at least a little bit worried? I would want to be sure."
Hermione sighed, exasperated. She hoisted herself back into a standing position. "All right. Let's go."
Throwing on a jacket and fastening a sleeping Daphne in her pram, they left the tower and walked the couple of blocks to the nearest drug store. While they considered the pregnancy tests on the shelves, Jane questioned Hermione on Loki's behavior.
"I still wonder what he planned to do with you." She picked up a box and read the back. "Do you think he was going to try and take you away for good?"
Hermione chose a box, too. "I don't know. Why would he stop in Norway if that were the case? Honestly, I think he just wanted to talk." She put the box back and picked another. "But I wasn't really in the mood. I was angry. Now I'm curious. I want to know where Thor took him. Did he tell you?"
Jane shook her head. "But I have a hunch, and if I'm right, it will be impossible for you to talk to him. And really? I don't think it's worth the fuss."
"Where would he be?"
"On the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier."
"And where would that be?"
"Hermione," Jane warned, scoffing. "No, okay? Just find yourself a stick to pee on, and we can move on. Here." She yanked Hermione's box away and shoved another into her chest. "This one is supposed to be error proof."
"As a scientist, you should know that's not poss...Oh, all right. Fine."
Back in Jane's loo, Jane sat on the toilet while Hermione sat on the ledge of the tub, the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. Jane wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, chewing her lips and lost in thought while Hermione bounced her knee impatiently. There was still five minutes to go.
She wasn't worried.
Not one bit.
She and Loki hadn't been trying.
They hadn't been careful, either.
"What if it's positive?" blurted Jane.
Hermione stared.
"What are you going to do? Would an abortion work on it?"
Stare.
"And it would probably outlive you, like, several thousand years. I'll probably have to take care of it, won't I?" Jane nodded absentmindedly. "At least it'd be a girl. I don't think I could handle a son from Loki. A daughter from you, though…only a little less traumatizing."
"I'm doing this to give you peace of mind."
The five minutes were up, and Jane tacked the pregnancy test before Hermione could even get up from the tub's ledge. Her cousin tossed her a sheepish look and handed over the stick. Hermione took one look at it and then dropped it into the rubbish bin before Jane could see.
"What was it?"
Hermione stalked off, heading directly to the bar and finding a bottle of tequila on one of the racks. She uncapped it and drank straight from the bottle, some of the liquid spilling out and dribbling down her chin. The liquid burned, but she got a good amount down before setting it down loudly on the bar and announcing to Jane, "Loki tricked me into having an apple."
"What?"
"An Apple of Iðunn. Loki forced one on me a year ago. It's why I didn't die when King Alvid stabbed me."
A series of emotions wafted over Jane's face. "What?"
"And before then, I couldn't have kids. I never told you, but I couldn't. Looks like nothing's changed!" Hermione slammed her fist on the bar. "It's stupid, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Jane, you have no idea how badly…"
She covered her face, muttering curses under her breath.
"You had an Apple of Iðunn," Jane said wasphisly. "You've been immortal all this time, and you didn't tell me?!"
"I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk to you about—"
"About what? More things you're keeping from me? How I'm not important enough for you tell me shit? I had to hear from Thor about you and Loki. My husband knew before I did. Do you even know how much that hurt me? Still, I didn't say a word about it. Now you're telling me you're immortal and have been for a whole year and that you couldn't have kids! I can't believe you! I can't fucking believe you! Is there anything else?"
Hermione winced. "I think I've given you enough ammo for the day."
Jane opened her mouth and then closed it, raising a hand. "You need to leave before I say something I can't take back."
"Fair enough," Hermione said quietly. Her confessing to Jane about that apple hadn't turned out at all like she hoped. She'd been hoping for a girl-to-girl, heartfelt conversation, and what she got was reality. She supposed Jane had every right to be angry. And Thor? Poor Thor. He was in for it the next time he saw Jane. Her being around them must be doing absolute wonders for their marriage.
In her own suite, she grabbed her purse and then left the tower, hailing a taxi and riding it to Nott's complex. She took the stairs and wrapped on his door. A young woman barely covered in sheets answered, and Hermione brushed by her nonplused.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, I forgot my key. I take it my husband's home," Hermione said.
"Your husband," the girl said, confused. Hermione placed her accent as Chechnya
Hermione sat down on the sofa chair in the sitting room. "I'll wait for him here."
"He said he was not married."
Hermione propped her elbow on the armrest and admittedly jerked at the sound of a gun firing and the sensation of warm spatters flicking her in the face. The young woman gasped and looked down at her ribs where a deep red circle appeared. It quickly spread and sloped downwards, and she crumpled to the ground. Nott stood a distance behind her, a pistol in hand.
"I hate guns. They're so Muggle," he said, setting the weapon on the book shelf beside him like it was contagious. "Granger, why didn't you kill her?"
"Her hair's different. I didn't recognize her at first."
"And when you did?"
"I thought you had plans for her. I wasn't going to intervene."
"Not intervene?" Nott chuckled. "It's all you do and have ever done. As punishment for your lack of insight, dispose of Miss Vankov for me."
Hermione revealed her wand and waved it over the late terrorist's body, transfiguring it into a sizeable polar bear rug. Nott shuffled over and stooped down, studying the new piece of furniture. "Huh. I kind of like it."
"I knew you would."
"I think I'll make it permanent."
Her lips quirked and she slumped in the chair. "Did you really sleep with her, Nott?"
"Davies did. I just watched."
"And that makes it so much better."
"If you wanted white ops, you should've run home to your precious Potter."
"But you have better alcohol, and I really need a drink."
"And I can tell you've had some. You remember the rules."
Hermione got up and darted to him, standing on the rug and grinning up at him. "You know how much I love breaking your rules."
"I thought you'd be a godsend when I hired you one. Good at following orders, said your file. You mucked something up from the day I hired you to the day I retired you."
"I think you should reevaluate your rules, Nott. They can make even the most valiant goody-goodies go mental and do something like introduce Casual Friday at the office." She grabbed his lapels. "I want a drink. Please. I'll let you watch."
"Watch you drink?" Nott laughed.
Hermione nodded.
"You get all weird when you drink tequila. I forgot."
"My cousin hates me."
"She must be the sensible one in the family."
"Ugh." Hermione let go of him and stomped off in search of the kitchen. She found it and bolted through the pantry swing door and started to investigate Nott's wine collection, all of them too fancy to bother getting drunk from. Soon, he joined her in the pantry, and she asked, "You still have contacts in Muggle intelligence, right?"
"What do you need?" he asked shrewdly.
"There's a hellicarrier that used to belong to Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. The agency isn't really government endorsed anymore, but the hellicarrier is still around, and I need a way in. Something of mine is on it and—"
"You want it back."
"…no…" Hermione blinked. "No. I just want to check up on it. It's better off where it is. I just want to keep tabs, is all. Another thing. I can't be detected while I'm on it."
Nott regarded her bemusedly, placing his hands on her shoulders to brush off invisible stray hairs and lint. "You'll have to do something for me." He then licked his thumb and rubbed at the specks of blood Miss Vankov left on her face.
"Oh, I don't doubt it."
He thumbed the tab of her zipper on her running pullover and jerked it open, exposing her sternum and her tracking necklace. He looped his fingers around the pendent and cord and tugged, forcing her closer to him. He bent his head way down to put his forehead to hers and said, "I want to meet your new friends."
To be Continued...