I'm not going to prattle on because I've made you wait long enough. Enjoy :)
Chapter Fourteen
The pale green shirt Hermione was wearing didn't suit her. Barty much preferred it when she wore darker colours. Nighttime shades that emphasized her pale skin and made her brown eyes glow like fire whiskey held up to the sun. He also liked it when she allowed her hair to tumble free down her spine. A mass of curls that he could tangle his hands into. Clenching his fingers to hold her in place. Like he had that time they'd kissed. Her hair wasn't free now, though. It was held firmly in place at the base of her skull. Innocent and demure. Although it did give him a view of her perfect slim neck. Pale and full of delicate little bones. The bruises he'd given her hidden beneath a concealing charm. But there all the same.
She was in the kitchen helping Molly Weasley pack some cake and biscuits into a woven basket. He was in his usual place by the fire. Watching her. Always watching her. They would shortly be heading over to Potter's house. Hermione had been invited to dinner. And where she went, he would trail behind. His lips pursed as she bent to pick up a fallen tea towel. Eyes tracing her curves. Imaging what it would be like to step up behind her, place his hands on her hips and tug her against him. Grind and rub until a gasp fell from her pale throat.
"Now be sure to tell Ginny that I want to see her before the weeks out," Molly said, breaking his concentration and setting his teeth on edge. The sound of her voice like nails on a chalkboard. One day he would rip out her heart. Tear it out and crush it beneath his heel. Then he would never have to hear the screeching bossy tone again.
Hermione smiled, "I will."
Barty watched as she lifted the too heavy basket and made her way towards the Floo. Towards him. Carefully avoiding his gaze. But he knew she was aware of him. Could see it in the way her body tensed and the hint of a blush that tinged her cheeks. He waited until she passed him and then immediately stepped forward. Standing almost close enough for his chest to touch her back. Sharing heat and scent. The tension in her body increased. Barty smiled. A small hidden thing that hovered rather than settled. He'd begun to discover that there were different ways to torture Hermione Granger. Ways that didn't make the collar flare white and send pinpricks of pain along his spine. Ways that he'd begun to crave.
Her elbow hit his ribs when she reached for the Floo powder. Not a deliberate action, but caused because he was standing so near. He didn't need to see her face to know her lips would be folded in annoyance. Those fire whiskey eyes sparking with a thousand things she wanted to say to him but didn't dare. Hoping that if she ignored him long enough then he would tire of the game. Leave her alone to play inside his own head instead. It was a foolish hope.
Dull green filled his vision as Hermione stepped into the Floo, disappearing from view. A second later he joined her. Eyes flicking around the room, cataloguing those present before settling once again on her.
"Your mother sent these over." She said handing the basket to Ginny Weasley, who in turn handed it over to her brother without even looking at the contents.
"I swear she thinks we're starving to death here," Ginny said looping her arm through Hermione's and pulling her onto the couch. Both of them ignoring the scowling Lavender and chipmunk-cheeked Ron.
"Where's Harry?" He heard Hermione ask as he wandered into the corner of the room. Displacing the Malfoy brat. Who at least had the good sense to back away and drop his gaze.
"Still at work. He'll be here soon." Ginny said studying her nails.
Barty eased against the wall, breathing in the mould drenched air. Allowing the idle chatter to fade into the background as his voices swam back to the surface. They weren't as loud as usual but they were persistent and annoyingly demanding. They continued to whisper in his ear as he studied the others. Lavender had a hand clenched around Ron's arm. Every other second she would glare at Hermione and tighten her grip. As if afraid her gormless husband would suddenly leap across the room. Throw Hermione to the floor and fuck her into the dusty rug. Barty's eyes narrowed. As if the spineless redhead had the guts. And as if he'd let him.
Feeling Barty's hard stare, Ron shifted. Wide blue eyes lifting to his. A sneer curled the Death Eaters lips when the boy gulped, swallowing his mouthful of biscuit, licking the crumbs from his lips. His gaze darted towards Draco. Perhaps wondering if the blonde was aware of Barty's malevolent gaze. And if so; what he intended to do about it. Realizing the answer was a big fat nothing, Ron dropped his eyes and shuffled towards the chairs opposite Hermione and Ginny, pulling Lavender along with him.
As soon as they were seated, the atmosphere in the room changed. An awkward tension surrounding them. At least for everyone else. Barty rather enjoyed the prickly sensation that now filled the air.
"How was your date with Cormac?" Lavender said, narrowing her eyes on Hermione. Seeking a way to embarrass her in front of her friends.
"It wasn't a date." Hermione snapped.
Lavender smiled a seemingly genuine expression. But it didn't quite reach her eyes, "that isn't what everyone's saying."
Ginny swung forward, red hair flaring behind her, "Maybe you shouldn't listen to gossip."
The ridiculous blonde pouted, "It isn't gossip."
An evil little smile played along Ginny's lips, "I heard some gossip as well." She cocked her head to the side, "Something about Ron kissing Hermione during the final battle."
Jealousy boiled up Barty's stomach and into his throat. It left an acrid bitter taste on the back of his tongue that swallowing wouldn't remove. One look at the bastard Weasley's flushed guilty face and he knew it was true. As did the Lavender girl. Who looked like she was about to have a stroke. If her bulging eyes and maroon face were anything to go by.
"AHHH!" She yelled, pushing to her feet and running from the room.
Ron's panicked gaze watched her leave, "Lav!" He squeaked, jumping up to follow her.
The moment the door swung shut behind him Ginny burst into hysterical laughter. "Did you see her face?"
Hermione was frowning. Little grooves forming between her eyebrows. "That isn't funny Ginny."
Barty agreed. The thought of that soppy fool's lips touching Hermione's was sickening. And infuriating. And not in the least bit funny. Slight movement out of the corner of his eye had him twisting to the side and snarling. Malfoy. The pale haired Death Eater backed up, hands raised, eyes averted. Barty's spine stiffened as he fought the urge to lash out. The voice of his father telling him to stay silent and still. The need to disobey that hated command made him tremble. Darkness seeping into his vision. A droplet of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The room began to sway. Or he did. He could no longer tell.
He had no idea what he would have done if Harry fucking Potter hadn't chosen that moment to step through the Floo.
"I'm late I know, sorry." He said removing his glasses to tiredly swipe at his eyes. "It's been one of those days."
Hermione and Ginny both got to their feet, the redhead slotting herself against Harry's side. Hermione standing awkwardly in front of them.
"Where's Ron?" Harry asked shuffling away from Ginny to tug off his robes.
"With Lav, Lav. Sulking. Arguing." Ginny shrugged her shoulders in apparent unconcern, taking hold of Hermione's arm and dragging her out of the room.
Barty followed. Making sure to keep them in sight. Counting his steps in order to reign in his temper. He was aware of Potter and Malfoy following behind but he ignored them. Keeping his gaze on the back of Hermione's head. They entered a dining room. A large rectangular area dominated by a huge slab of a table. It had been immaculately set for five people. He waited until Potter, Weasley and Hermione had taken their seats before finding a place to stand. Somewhere he could see her face.
Right now she looked perplexed, "Who cooks your food? Draco?"
Harry and Ginny burst out laughing. And from the opposite end of the room, Malfoy scowled at the tables edge.
"No!" Potter gasped. "He'd poison us all without even trying!"
Hermione frowned again, "So where does it come from then?"
Ginny threw a fork at the still chuckling Potter and looked at Hermione, "Some of the elves wanted to keep their old jobs. Cooking and stuff. So the Ministry came up with a kind of communal kitchen for them to work in."
"Like at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.
Ginny nodded, "Yes. Everyone who wants to has their name placed on a list. The elves cook whatever we want and deliver it."
"Elf take out," Hermione muttered just as Harry clicked his fingers and five steaming plates of food appeared before them.
For the next few minutes, the only sound was the scrape of cutlery. And distantly Lavender's shrill scream and what sounded like a book hitting a door. Each of them pretended not to hear. Although Ginny did smile at a particularly loud thump.
"So Harry. I wanted to ask you if it would be possible for me to speak to someone at the Ministry." Hermione asked between bites.
Potter stopped eating, fork raised halfway to his mouth, "Mione-"
Hermione gave an exasperated look. One which Barty didn't believe for a second. And neither did Potter by the wary look that crept into his eyes.
"I want a job."
Potter blinked. Ginny looked suspicious. Draco rolled his eyes. And Barty regarded her without expression.
"I'm serious. I wanted to work for the Ministry before I woke up, and I want to work for them now." She said.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ginny asked.
Hermione gave a short sharp nod. "I can't stay hidden in the Burrow forever. And I'm only asking to speak to someone, not run the place for goodness sake! I need to find out what my options are." She fixed those wide brown eyes on Potter, "Please Harry."
Barty saw the exact moment Potter gave in. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly and his bottle green eyes dulled to murky pond water. "Only if you swear to behave."
Hermione looked at Harry for a long serious minute. "I promise you I won't do anything to put you in danger. I really do just want to talk to someone about working there."
"Okay. I'll see what I can do." He replied, less tense than he had been. Perhaps because he believed what she was saying. But Barty could hear the lie she'd spoken. Even if her so called friends couldn't. And he'd seen the way Malfoy had been looking at her lap and rolling his eyes. The lap where her hand had dropped out of Potter and Weasley's sight. The lap where he was positive her fingers were crossed in order to nullify the lie.
The rest of the meal passed in relative peace. Broken only by the occasional scream and bump from above. Barty tuned out after a little while. Growing bored of the pointless conversation. He couldn't even pass the time intimidating Malfoy because the slippery worm had positioned himself across the room and refused to look at him. So instead he thought up ways that he'd kill all those who'd tortured him.
"Barty?"
He blinked his way back to the present to see Hermione standing in front of him. He had no idea how much time had passed. A quick glance showed empty plates and glasses.
"It's time to go." She said softly not meeting his gaze.
He smirked, stepping into her. She stumbled back, eyes darting up to glare at him, before twisting around and making her way back to the living room and Floo. Barty hovered close as she stepped through, following her a second later.
Hermione nodded her head, "Thank you." She said making her way to the kitchen and Molly Weasley.
Barty scowled, settling himself by the Floo. Unable now to tease, or let her know of his displeasure at her kissing the idiot Weasley. He remained that way for over an hour. Listening to them chatting and the dull clack as Molly knitted one of her appalling jumpers. Unable to stand it any longer, he made his silent way passed them and to the back door. He felt Hermione's gaze on the back of his neck the entire time. He could almost feel her relief when the door swung shut behind him.
It wouldn't last. As soon as night cloaked the sky he'd be paying the little witch a visit.
It was dark when he entered Hermoine's room. Only her soft breaths disturbing the peace. A sliver of moonlight seeped through the window, spilling onto the bed and illuminating Hermione's face. Her eyes were wide open and staring at him. She didn't say a word as he walked towards the bed. Not even when he pulled back the sheets and eased in beside her. Sliding close. Draping his thigh over hers. Laying his palm against the pulse thudding in her neck. Letting his fingertips trace patterns against her skin.
He smirked when she trembled. Grinned when her flesh erupted into a thousand tiny bumps. "Do you like it when I touch you?"
She froze. Eyes full of fear as she gazed at him frantically shaking her head.
"Are you sure?" He asked lifting his hand from her throat and ghosting it down her chest, along her ribs and into the dip of her waist.
"I don't like it." She said firmly.
Barty slowly bent down until his forehead was a breath away from hers. Eyes staring, "Your lips say those words Hermione, but the things I see in your head tell me differently."
She immediately stiffened. Eyes slamming shut. But it was too late. Barty had seen what she now sought to keep hidden. The conflict. The confusion. The want. She desired him. Perhaps as much as he did her. But she was afraid. So very afraid. Every stuttered breath. Every tremble. They screamed her fear into his soul. And he liked it. He drank it in. Laying his head next to hers. Sharp nose nuzzling her neck. Lips whispering promises into her skin. Telling her what he would do to her. What he would allow her to do to him. He spoke of sweat-slicked skin, of wet kisses and clenching muscles.
And she listened. A hot blush filling her cheeks. Body twitching with barely understood pleasure.
"Don't." She whispered, breath stirring the hair on his forehead.
So he didn't. Instead settling more firmly against her body. Listening to her thumping heart. Saying the rest of the words in his head. Waiting for the moment when she would push him away. Or ask him to leave. She did neither. But she did lift a pale hand slowly upwards. Hesitant fingers brushing his jaw before jumping away as if burned.
Ah, but it was enough. That gentle touch. Unasked for, but given. It was enough. It was a start.
Thanks so much for your support and kind words. I love you all for them. But not in a creepy way. Cause that would be...umm...creepy?
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