Chapter Eleven

Monday

The alarm blaring on Hermione's nightstand woke her up from what must have been pleasant dreams. It was unfortunate that when she had struggled with insomnia and recurring nightmares for so long, she had to force herself to wake up from one of the best night's sleep she could remember having. Several moments passed of the cacophonous buzzing without Hermione even fully being aware of what was happening. Next to her in bed she heard a muffled grumbling. She could sympathize.

Hermione reached across the bed to turn the alarm off with a disgruntled sigh. Large arms wrapped around her back and pulled her into a satisfyingly firm chest. Soft kisses were placed into the mutinous mess she called hair. If Thorfinn once teased that he liked her 'just shagged hair', she wondered how he felt about her hair first thing in the morning.

Despite all of the unpleasantness of the previous afternoon, they had been able to have what amounted to one of the most wonderful days Hermione could remember having for quite some time. Following their joint bath they spent a few hours back in the bedroom. Thorfinn seemed determined to make up for his past treatment of her in some of the most deliciously imaginable ways he could think of. They both needed an extra long nap afterwards. When he only half-heartedly suggested that he go back to his own flat Sunday evening, she told him 'no' and proceeded to teach him what the fascinating black box in her living room was for. Ten minutes into watching, Hermione feared she might have introduced the Pureblood into something that was not going to be healthy for him. Her suspicions were only confirmed when he asked her where he could buy his own telly-fission.

The reminder that she had to get out of the cocoon of security, blankets and red-blooded male to face the reality of her life made Hermione morose. Thinking about facing down what she knew would be difficult questions and impertinent comments at the Ministry made her want to snuggle back into Thorfinn's welcome embrace and forget her responsibilities. She was halfway out of his arms when Thorfinn pulled her back into bed.

"No," was all he said, his voice gruff with sleep.

She giggled at his uncharacteristic terseness.

"Stay with me," he begged.

She laughed again before turning around in his arms to lay her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Ignoring you being hexed and Charlie being arrested, yesterday was a perfect day. I'm not ready to go back to the real world."

Thorfinn placed another series of kisses on the top of her head before he made the difficult decision to get out of bed. He was on his feet long before Hermione was prepared to get up. With an extraordinary amount of ease, the wizard picked up her squirming body and threw it over his shoulder. She was laughing and kicking at the same time, unsure what his plans were now that she was his captive.

"If we both have to leave the flat to go back to our regular lives," Thorfinn said, carrying her to the bathroom. "We should at least start the morning off right."

Thirty minutes later they were both clean, out of breath and thoroughly satisfied. Hermione wrapped herself in a towel and was horrified to see the time. She was going to be very late if she didn't rush. Thorfinn sat back on the bed leaned up against the headboard watching her run around the bedroom frantically attempting to get ready. An amused grin proved he was finding her utterly adorable. It seemed that the later she became, the harder it was for her to find what she needed. Finally ready and later than she had ever been, Hermione and Thorfinn walked down to the street together.

"I will see you later tonight," he promised, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

"I can't wait."

Thorfinn watched her disappear from the alley before he headed towards the tube station. Hermione arrived to the Ministry in the midst of the last minute stragglers. The time was almost nine. She had never arrived later than half past eight.

"You've made quite a name for yourself lately, haven't you?" declared a witch from the Improper Use of Magic office as they waited in line to enter through the employee entrance.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hermione snapped, annoyed that the horrible woman was talking to her about what she assumed she was.

"All over the front page of the Daily Prophet. If I were you, I would keep my head down for a few months. Let everything blow over before you get a name for yourself that you don't want."

Hermione couldn't decide if the older witch was trying to provide her friendly advice or if she was trying to revel in her misery. Either way, it was obnoxious. She pushed past the woman the moment they were inside the Atrium. More whispers and pointed glances followed every step she made into the main level of the Ministry. She could only imagine what was on the front page of the newspaper.

Following an awkward lift ride with a couple of Unspeakables and an esteemed member of the Wizengamot, Hermione arrived on Level Four. As she expected, her coworkers stared at her as she walked to her office. She wondered if there would ever come a day that she would just be left alone. The morning edition was charmed to the outside of her office door yet again. If she discovered the person responsible for charming the papers to her door, she would not hesitate to hex them. This was just embarrassing.

Charles Weasley Arrested for Attacking Squib at Granger's Flat

Hermione ripped the offending newspaper from her door. Ignoring the pointed looks from the other workers in her subdivision, she slammed her office door shut behind her. Though she would have rather eaten the newspaper whole instead of reading it, she needed to know what was being said about her in the press.

Reports of a violent altercation between Charles Weasley and an unidentified Squib in Hermione Granger's flat Sunday afternoon have been discovered to be true. Aurors and Obliviators were dispatched to the tacky, little flat in what is believed to be a fashionable Muggle neighborhood, if such a thing even exists, of the only female member of the Golden Trio. At approximately 1:20 pm, Muggle authorities were alerted that there was a domestic disturbance in the woman's flat. Ministry Aurors intercepted the call when it became clear that the infamous Miss Granger was somehow involved.

An anonymous source within the Ministry was unable to provide the name of the Squib who was apparently attacked by Mister Weasley citing the Squib was under protective custody of the Ministry. One wonders what exactly that means, but as of the printing of this article, the source has been unable to uncover just why they are under protection.

Unfortunately, this reporter is only able to speculate the particulars of the attack. It was once believed that Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were dating. She certainly has visited the Romanian Dragon Reserve where he was employed for many years up until just last week. An unconfirmed rumor wonders if Mister Charles Weasley was not returning to Great Britain specifically because of the witch in question.

Was this a romantic spat between a former boyfriend and a new lover? And if it is, what about poor Mister Kenneth Towler who only recently was linked to the notorious heartbreaker? Has he been summarily dispatched because he was unable to nominate her for the coveted position within the Goblin Liaison Office? Certainly witches from all over the country should be lining up to help him over his potential heartbreak.

Mister Weasley is the second eldest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Miss Granger has been linked in the past to at least two other sons in that prolific family. One wonders what kind of hold she must have over the men in that family. What could possibly entice the former dragonkeeper enough to commit violence against an unarmed Squib? He was remanded to the Ministry following the attack, but all charges have since been dropped. He was released after only a couple of hours.

Requests for a statement from current Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt regarding two of his Ministry employees involved in a domestic spat have been terse and a bit rude at times.

"I have no comment about the personal lives of those within my employ," stated the Minister. "No charges have been brought against Charlie. This is a personal matter between the parties involved and I would thank you to mind your own business."

This reporter promises to keep seeking out the answers to this potential explosive situation within our Ministry of Magic.

Hermione wadded up the newspaper with the vicious Skeeter article into a large ball. Tossing it in the air she hit it with an effective incendio spell. The ashes floated slowly to land on top of her desk. She didn't know why she was surprised to find out that the embarrassing incident from the day before made the front page. She certainly couldn't understand how yet another poorly written article with hardly any solid facts could make the top fold. Was her life really that interesting to the boring masses across the country?

A knock at her office door interrupted her increasingly depressing thoughts. With a wave of her wand she opened the entrance to her private office. Kenneth stood in the doorway clutching his personal copy of the offending article.

"Could we speak for a minute?" he asked, his voice calm and soft.

"Of course."

Hermione settled back down into her chair. Instead of sitting on her desk as he had done so many times in the past, Kenneth lowered himself into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. He seemed to want to put as much space between them as possible. Hermione certainly didn't mind.

"Is all of this true?" he asked, holding up the paper.

Hermione exhaled loudly at the question. She really didn't want to have this discussion before she had her first cup of tea that morning. How could she have spent the time before work in such pleasurable pursuits only to be bloody miserable as soon as she arrived? She hated Mondays. Worst day of the week.

"Parts of it are true," she admitted. "Rita Skeeter hates me. She has a personal vendetta against me and loves to make me sound like a villain."

"I'll be honest, Hermione, I like you. A lot. Always have."

She struggled not to roll her eyes at his admission. He was telling her what she had been painfully aware of since she was eleven. For years he had made his affections known.

"Personally I believe we would make a formidable couple," he continued. "I'm certain there would be many who would envy us both. We have a great deal in common. Certainly we could both help each other in furthering our careers."

"Kenneth…" She wanted to stop him before he said something they would both regret.

"Please let me finish, Hermione. I assumed that we had a good time when we went out to dinner. I've thought of little else since that night, but it appears that I was wrong. Perhaps I enjoyed myself more than you did."

"Kenneth…"

He held up a hand to stop her. She bit down on her tongue. At least it was beginning to sound like he was reconsidering their potential relationship.

"I would have preferred, naturally, that you had spoken to me personally before you decided to pursue a relationship with someone else, but I suppose I haven't always been very easy for you to approach."

Hermione had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Kenneth had never been easy to speak to. Any time she tried to have a discussion about literally anything, he would dominate the conversation. She never wanted to come right out and tell him that she would not be interested in ever dating him, but even if she had, he never gave her the chance. He had to be in control of all their talks. Kenneth was not a bad guy. Simply a little socially inept, especially where women were concerned.

"I think it best that under the circumstances, we not go out again."

Kenneth rose from his chair without even looking Hermione in the eye. She couldn't help the bubble of guilt that rose up from her stomach at his exit. Despite not having an interest in dating him, she didn't want him to be hurt. Obviously at the bare minimum he was dealing with injured pride if not a bruised heart. Hermione only wished the best for him and was grateful that perhaps he had finally realized it wasn't going to be with her.

"You break his heart with all of your tarty ways?"

Hermione groaned. The last person she wanted to speak to that morning was Matthew. Unfortunately their offices were right next door and he was a terrible gossip. She should have known that the moment Kenneth exited, Matthew would slink in for details.

"Go away, Matthew," she responded. "I am not in the mood."

Ignoring her completely, Matthew skulked even further into her office. Did no one understand the importance of privacy that morning? Why was everyone so enamored with the sordid details of her life?

"The article true?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'd like to be made aware of the activities of my subordinates. What if you are somehow unhinged and you put the rest of the subdivision at risk?"

She rolled her eyes. All he cared about was getting the latest gossip and if possible, learning what he could to hold over her in the future. Matthew was known for digging up dirt on those he didn't care for or on those he deemed to be somehow in his way. More than once over the years he had been responsible, albeit usually quietly, in the demise of a coworker and the subsequent loss of their job. It was rumored that that was how he managed to get the promotion from assistant unit supervisor to unit supervisor. He was a snake in the grass. How he ever ended up in Hufflepuff was a mystery.

"What happens in the privacy of my own home is no one else's business," she retorted.

"Not according to the Daily Prophet. So are you fucking a Squib now? That seems pretty low even for you."

Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks rise to a dangerous level. How dare he? Thorfinn was not a Squib. He was a powerful wizard who just happened to have his magic bound for a short period of time. Implying that there was something wrong with him only served to infuriate her further. If prejudice against Muggleborns was bad, it was nothing compared to what the poor Squibs who decided to remain in the Wizarding world experienced. Matthew only smirked when he saw how angry she was becoming.

"You know, only a short time ago I was convinced that you were some frigid virgin," he continued. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you are willing to open your legs for just about anyone who asks."

"Fuck you, Matthew."

"I'm not that hard up just yet," he laughed. "Ask me when every other available woman on Earth is dead."

A harsh knock at the door was the only thing that prevented Hermione from hexing all of the hair off of Matthew's body. He was very proud of his dark wavy locks. It would've been a shame for them to all disappear at once. His laughter ceased immediately when he looked up to see the Chosen One cross the threshold. Matthew had always been a little intimidated by Harry. His infrequent visits to the department were almost as entertaining as when Kingsley dropped in for a few minutes.

"Come in, Harry," Hermione ordered. "Matthew was just leaving."

Her glare in her boss' direction left no room for misunderstanding. Matthew reluctantly rose from the chair to exit the office. He tried to speak for a moment with Harry, but was summarily blown off. Hermione had to resist the urge to giggle at his offended countenance. Once Matthew pulled the door closed behind him, Harry took a seat in the chair that had already had so many visitors that morning.

"I thought it best that you and I have a private discussion," Harry declared. "I'm sorry that we weren't able to keep the story out of the papers. There's some leak somewhere in the Ministry. We've been searching for it for a while now."

"There's no need to apologize, Harry. I suspected it wouldn't remain private for very long."

An awkward silence descended upon the room. The old friends seemed unsure how to progress with their discussion. Each tried to start at separate times with little luck. Finally, Harry sighed loudly and asked the question that she had been dreading.

"How long have you been involved with Rowle?"

She felt her cheeks burn again. Not for the first time in her life she cursed her fair complexion. It was all too easy for emotions to be discerned just by looking at the flush of her face. It was exasperating.

"Harry…"

"Please don't insult me by trying to deny it, 'Mione. He was standing in your flat wearing nothing but a towel. I saw the way he touched you and how you held his hand. And what else would make Charlie lose his head if it wasn't someone else with you? Everyone knows he's still in love with you."

"Harry, please, stop."

"Or were you not aware? Did you not know that he was moving back to Britain solely because he wanted to be with you?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands. Resting her elbows on the top of her desk, she groaned. Harry was the eternal optimist when it came to love amongst his family members. He had been anxious for Hermione to marry Ron when they were dating years earlier. When that didn't work out, he tried to push her to date George. They went out on one uncomfortable date that was splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Charlie's clandestine relationship with Hermione had been the worst kept secret of the Weasley family. Harry had been hoping for years that she would finally enter his family officially.

"Charlie and I have always been complicated," she replied. "We hadn't even spoken in over a year since the last time I visited Romania. If he was truly still interested in me, he should've let me know sooner."

"Let you know before you decided to enter a relationship with a man who has tried to kill you more than once?"

"Harry…"

"No, no, Hermione, I'm really not upset."

His tone was steady and he had never been able to lie to her convincingly in seventeen years of friendship. She hazarded a glance at her best friend's features. He seemed sincere. Hermione was nervous. How could he be so calm about what he witnessed the day before?

"A lot has changed since the war ended," Harry continued. "Before we released Rowle on parole I had the opportunity to speak with him on several occasions. He's different than he was before he was captured. Azkaban changed him. I see no reason why he can't become a productive member of society again."

"So you are okay with what you witnessed?"

"Honestly, 'Mione? No, not really. I would much rather you end up with Charlie, but it's not my decision. You have always been able to see the good in people even when no one else could."

She could hardly believe that he was being so mature about the situation. Somehow she expected him to resort back to fifteen year old Harry and proceed to rant and scream at her for making terrible decisions. Being involved with a Death Eater seemed to be something he would most certainly have a problem accepting.

"Most people are not going to be as understanding," Harry gently reminded her. "Charlie and I discussed yesterday that it would be best if we didn't mention Rowle's name to anyone, especially no one in the family. I imagine it will be hard enough for you to face the Weasleys after rejecting their own. Adding in that you are with a Death Eater…"

"Former Death Eater."

"Yes, of course, we understand the difference, but I'm not sure everyone else will."

Harry rose from the chair. Hermione expected him to put up more of a fight. Throw something. Insult her. Scream at her for making an appalling choice. Maybe even hex her. His almost lack of emotion was unnerving.

"I only want you to be happy, Hermione."

He crossed behind her desk to pull her into a warm embrace. Hermione could feel hot tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Harry kissed the top of her head before he headed for the office door. One pull of the knob revealed yet another visitor just about to knock on the door. Hermione stifled a groan when she saw the reddened cheeks of Charlie Weasley begging for entrance.

"Come on in, Charlie," she sighed. "Looks as if I'm going to have every single person in the Ministry stop by today."

Harry spoke to Charlie across the threshold in hushed tones. Hermione could only imagine what they were speaking about. No doubt Harry was reminding his brother-in-law to keep his cool. If anyone alive could understand the problems that could come up with having a short fuse and an explosive temper, it was Harry Potter. Their conversation only lasted a few moments. Charlie's ruddy complexion appeared even redder than it normally did. Perhaps he was still embarrassed by the events of the previous day. Hermione hoped that he was.

"Could we speak for a minute?" he asked, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

She waved him further into the office. Charlie stood behind the chair that all of her visitors that morning had been seated in. He seemed too nervous to actually sit still. With his hands grasping the back of the chair, he attempted to speak.

"Hermione, I…"

He cleared his throat before trying again.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday."

His apology was spoken in a whisper. Hermione had to strain her ears to hear it. She hated that she was even more annoyed with his trite apology than she was before he even entered the room. Did he expect everything to be made all right between them with just a few simple words that meant nothing?

"My behavior was inexcusable."

"Did you stay up last night rehearsing what you were going to say?"

Charlie's blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. She could see the obvious indignation present. The harsh words just kind of slipped out of her mouth. Hermione wasn't sure why she wasn't willing to be as polite as he was trying to be. Shouldn't she do what her mother always told her and accept a genuine apology when it was offered? Part of her had difficulty believing that anything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

"Mine…"

"No, don't call me that anymore, Charlie! I'm still very angry at you from yesterday. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I didn't like finding my witch alone in a flat with a naked Death Eater!"

Hermione removed her wand from her pocket to cast a quick silencing charm around the room. The last thing she needed was to give her coworkers an entertaining show they could use against her later. None of them needed to know about her relationship with Thorfinn. That was no one's business but theirs.

"First of all, I'm not your witch, Charlie. Not anymore. Not even sure that I ever was."

"Hermione…"

"You made your feelings very clear the last time I was in Romania. Do you remember me innocently asking you if you would ever move back to Britain? You practically bit my head off."

"That's not what happened."

She rolled her eyes. Apparently they had very different memories of the exact same event. On the last night of her trip to Romania she asked him about his plans for the future. It had felt like an innocent question, but his reaction was anything but. He made it clear that he had no intention of leaving where he had chosen to make his life. His career was important to him. He loved his dragons. In a moment of fire whiskey-fueled anger, he'd accused her of trying to change him to fit into some mold of what she wanted him to become. It had been the worst argument they had ever had. Even with attempted makeup sex later that night, their relationship was irrevocably changed. She'd returned to London believing that they were over once and for all.

"I really don't want to argue about the past, Charlie."

"Is it serious between you two?"

She sighed.

"I don't know. It's new. We haven't had time to really decide what's happening."

"You deserve better than him. Much better than him."

"Charlie, stop."

"I'm afraid that you are going to regret this, Hermione. He's the same person he always has been. Maybe I won't be around when he shows his true colors again."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. Was he really stooping down to that level? Their discussion had gone downhill rapidly. She tightened her grip on her wand just in case he lost his temper again. He had never hexed her before, but there was a first time for everything. Charlie stalked across the office to stand inches from her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. She hated that she flinched at the touch. It was further proof that they were very different people than they used to be.

"He won't make you happy. He can't provide for you or even keep you protected. He has no magic, Hermione."

"That's only temporary. He is still a wizard. And he's not completely weak and helpless. And I don't need to be protected. I'm not weak either."

Charlie began to run his hands up and down her arms. He stepped in closer, only inches from her. Warning bells chimed in her head. Before he could lower his lips to cover hers, Hermione pushed him backwards.

"You need to leave, Charlie."

Her tone cut off all potential arguments from the wizard. With a final heated look in her direction, he stormed out of the office. Somehow she knew that this wouldn't be the last she would hear on this subject. Charlie was tenacious and determined especially when he set his mind to something. This was not going to be the last argument they had.

Hermione cancelled the silencing charm around her office with a simple flick of her wand. A stack of parchment was waiting for her to sift through. She had more than enough work to occupy her for the rest of the day. Determined to remain hidden in her office, she did not procrastinate.

There was a single knock at her door just a few minutes after nine. She had been absorbed in the perpetual placement reports that never seemed to be finished. Time had slipped away from her. A quick glance up at the door revealed a smiling Thorfinn. She was out of her chair in moments. They kissed as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks, instead of hours.

"Today was the longest day," he whispered into her curls.

She snorted.

"You had a long day? You should have been stuck in this office all day."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Thorfinn's arms snaked around her back to pull her against his chest. She reveled in the spicy scent of his robes. An insatiable desire for the wizard holding her began to twist and churn in her stomach. She removed her wand from her pocket. Thorfinn stared down at her with narrowed, confused eyes. She pointed the wand out the door and muttered a quiet incantation. In seconds, every single inch of the tile flooring on Level Four began to sparkle.

"Looks like you are free for the next thirty minutes."

His lips crashed down onto hers. She backed up still attached at the mouth to the edge of her desk. Thorfinn's hands reached down to grasp her arse. In one swift motion, she was seated on the desk. Her hands reached down to unbutton his trousers, but he stopped her progress.

"Which office is the tosser's?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Just next door. Why?"

A mischievous smirk crossed his face. He helped her hop off the desk and with her hand still clutched in his, led her out of her office. Matthew never locked his door. He always requested she leave completed work on his desk before she left each night. Thorfinn pushed open the door and pulled her in.

"Thorfinn, what are we doing?"

The smirk was still firmly in place. He shut the door behind her and immediately picked up her petite body. Seconds later she was lying on top of Matthew's desk with Thorfinn's hands up her skirt. A quick tug removed her knickers. One sudden thrust and he was buried inside of her yet again. They'd lost count the number of times they'd been together in the past few days. Their coupling was intense and frantic. Hermione screamed more than once before Thorfinn groaned and shuddered above her. He rested his head on her chest while she ran her fingers through his blonde hair.

"Didn't the tosser say he would snap his wand and live like a Muggle if you ever let a bloke slither between your thighs?" teased Thorfinn when their breathing was back to normal.

Hermione laughed. Is that why he wanted to shag on top of Matthew's desk? Because he remembered the conversation they had that first night at the pub? Thorfinn's warm laughter quickly joined hers. They laughed until they were out of breath again.

"As much as I would love for you to cast a spell on Level Three so we can continue, I should get back to work."

Hermione sat up on the edge of the desk with a definitive pout on her lips. She wasn't ready to go back home alone to her empty flat. Having him there for the past few days had been wonderful. Thorfinn adjusted his trousers and returned her knickers with a cheeky grin. She couldn't remain annoyed with him for very long. A giggle at the absurdity of just having the stuffing shagged out of her on top of her arsehole boss' desk escaped her mouth. They might have to do this very thing again soon.

"Go home, Princess. It's late and I know for a fact that you haven't gotten enough sleep the last few nights."

They waited for the lift to arrive as they had every night since he began working for the Ministry. She kissed him goodbye at Level Three and watched him disappear behind the closing lift doors with a great deal of reluctance. Her day might have started off as shite, but it had most certainly improved by the end.


Author's Note: Thanks for all of the lovely reviews, follows and faves for the last chapter! I love my readers.

I just posted the first chapter of my new Hermione/Kingsley story The Minister's Secret last night. Check it out if you're interested!