A/N: I am so pleased to see how many of you are excited for Marcus May! This chapter we have the entrance of the man himself. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions. Huge thank you to SynnDagger for beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter two and be on the lookout for chapter three tomorrow!
The rest of Hermione's day had not gone any better. Instead of focusing on reviewing the arcane laws passed in the wake of the Goblin Wars that were still on the books, she was left in a downward spiral of how embarrassing it was going to be to go to Ron's engagement party without a mystery boyfriend to present.
Godric, Ron had probably already told Lavender all about her plus one. When she showed up alone, Hermione was sure that the bubbly blonde would attempt to set her up on a variety of blind dates now that she'd decided to 'embrace her love life'. It would be a perfectly friendly thing to do from the outside, but it would be tinged with the bit of meanness that Lavender had adopted ever since she'd learned about Ron's crush on her.
Hermione was more than ready to return to her cottage at the end of the day. Happily greeted by a purring Crookshanks, Hermione threw her keys on the table by the door and kicked off her heels, sighing at the feel of her arches returning to their normal posture.
"Well, I've really put my foot in my mouth today, Crookshanks," Hermione told her familiar. She fed him quickly before giving the adorable ginger half-Kneazle a contemplative look. "If only I could transfigure you into a dashing boyfriend. On second thought, you and Ron would get into it."
With Crookshanks sorted, she found her way into the kitchen, rummaging around in the icebox looking for something edible for dinner. Unfortunately, she hadn't done the shopping and the grocery was already closed, seeing as it was past seven.
That was fine, Hermione thought. She didn't really feel like eating at all. Instead, all she wanted to do was to get slightly drunk and spend the night wallowing in self-pity. Her mind made up, Hermione changed out of her work clothes and into comfortable jeans and fitted shirt. It was presentable enough to go out to the little pub in her village.
It was only a short walk away from her cottage. Happy to be in the cool air, Hermione wondered absently what their dinner special would be.
After graduating from Hogwarts, she'd used the stipend that came with her Order of Merlin to buy a home in a wizarding village, eschewing busy London for a bit of fresh air. The borders between wizard and Muggle were also much less rigid in this part of the county, which she, as a Muggle-born, appreciated.
The Hag's Head was a delightful mix of the two worlds, with the Muggles enjoying the playful hints of magic, none the wiser, and witches and wizards had a place to congregate without feeling too out of place. Apparently, the establishment could claim a history back to Anglo-Saxon times, but Hermione really only cared that she could get a butterbeer when she felt like it.
Tonight, she was going to go for something a little bit stronger than butterbeer.
Seeing that it was an anonymous Tuesday night, there weren't too many people at the bar, which suited Hermione just fine. She would just drink a bit by herself before she had to face the music the next day. Slipping into a spot at the bar, she politely requested a glass of zinfandel.
She must have looked upset because the barkeep poured her an extremely hearty glass. Once she had finished that glass, she could feel her whole body relaxing, the weight of the day lifted. She felt flushed and pleased as punch. She ordered a second glass.
But her quiet evening was not destined to remain so. Her temporary sanctuary was invaded when another person found a seat one down from her. Looking out the corner of her eye, she could tell from the cut of their trousers that they were a wizard.
Merlin, this could be embarrassing if they noticed that war heroine Hermione Granger was trying to get drunk at the village pub.
Trying not to bring any attention to herself, she trailed her eyes up the wizard's body to identify him as he ordered a firewhiskey. Hermione had to bite her lip to stop from gasping when she realized that she recognized him.
Marcus Flint.
The wheels were already turning in her head, wondering if this was a sign. For the second time that day, her mouth ran away from her brain.
"Flint," she called out, turning to face him. "I have a proposition for you."
Flint seemed just as surprised as her to be called out. He looked her over, smirking. "Granger. I'm surprised you even remember me," he quipped.
"You haven't changed that much since school," she answered, scrunching up her nose in surprise. "I could say the same for you."
"Please," he scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. "Don't act like you aren't the second most recognizable person in the wizarding world. Even if you hadn't been all that Malfoy ever whinged about, I'd recognize you."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush at the idea that Malfoy had spoken about her so often. It was enough to send her into a stunned silence.
"So, what's the proposition, then?" he asked her, obviously intrigued.
She was rapidly losing confidence, but she'd persevere, though she certainly couldn't discuss it in front of the barkeep. It would be too embarrassing if Flint turned her down outright and that tidbit leaked. Standing up from her stool, she grabbed her wine glass and gave him her most sultry smile.
"If you're curious, you can join me over at the table," she told him, before darting off to the booth. She needed a few seconds to gather her Gryffindor courage if she was actually going to ask him.
It didn't take long for Flint to lumber over after her, slipping in across from her. When she began discreetly putting up anti-eavesdropping spells, his eyebrows shot up. "Didn't know it was that kind of proposition, Granger," he said, almost sounding impressed.
Hermione choked on her wine. "It's not like that," she tried to reassure him, unsure if he would feel disappointed or relieved.
She took a minute to look him over. He really hadn't changed since school, except his styling had improved a little. He still had dark hair and a pair of truly devastating dark blue eyes (something that she would never admit out loud). Having pursued a career in Quidditch, he'd only grown more muscular over the years. Merlin, Hermione didn't think she'd seen a broader set of shoulders and she genuinely wondered if she'd be able to wrap her hands around his biceps.
Godric, maybe not best to think about that right now.
He was tall, much taller than she was. Under the table, his knees encroached on her space, bumping into her legs in an odd sort of caress. Flint had obviously had some work done on his teeth, only they weren't perfectly straight and white.
"You've had your teeth done," she whispered, not realizing she had until he rolled his eyes at her.
"Took a bludger to the face, nearly knocked all my teeth out," he explained with just a tinge of bitterness. "It had to be done."
"No, it looks good," she assured. "It suits you. I actually had my own teeth fixed after Malfoy made my teeth grow...well, you don't care about that."
"Thanks, I think," he groused, still not entirely sure if it was meant to be a compliment or not. "Are you going to tell me what you wanted? Or should I go back to the bar?"
"I was wondering if you are free this Saturday?" she asked him, tugging at the ends of her hair nervously instead of bouncing her leg. Her knee might touch Marcus's again if she did that.
"I thought you said it wasn't like that," he smirked.
"Okay, well, it's sort of like that," she said, before deciding to just tell him everything. She'd already done enough to make him think she was absolutely bonkers, hadn't she? "Harry and Ron are both getting married next year and I have a lot of events to attend. Ron's engagement party is on Saturday."
Flint looked at her with dawning realization. "And you want me to be your date?" he asked, sounding incredulous.
"I'm getting there," Hermione told him, annoyed at being interrupted. "Anyway, they told me they weren't going to allocate me a plus one because I'm perpetually single. I told them that I had a secret boyfriend who I planned on bringing."
"You want me to be your secret boyfriend?" Flint asked, looking stunned.
Hermione bit her lip, thinking that it sounded just a bit insane when he said it like that. "Yes," she said, hoping to project an air of confidence. "It's just two engagement parties and two weddings."
"Why don't you just get one of your friends to do it?" he pressed, not sounding convinced. "Longbottom or Finnegan or one of Weasley's brothers."
She sighed, realizing that this was going to take a little bit more convincing. "I'm going to have to order dinner if we're going to discuss this properly," she told him. "I've already had too much wine."
Flagging over the barkeep, Hermione quickly ordered their special - roast chicken and mash - and a small carafe of wine.
"I can't ask one of them because Harry and Ron would never believe that we'd kept it a secret for so long," she explained. "And I need someone who hasn't been invited to their events already."
"So, you could invite any number of other wizards from Slytherin," Marcus argued.
"Lavender has a surprisingly wide-reaching family, if I'm honest," Hermione said, sounding dismayed for an instant. "But, I wouldn't ask anyone else but you. You're perfect."
That seemed to perk up Flint. "What makes you say that?" he asked.
"Ever since Ron and I fizzled out, he's been such a little troll. He constantly tries to rub in how quickly he moved on from me," she said with a chuckle.
"You want him back?" Flint questioned.
"I couldn't care less about what he does. We weren't a good match, so I'm not broken up about it," she reassured him. "But you - you're someone Ron hates in particular. I can just imagine his face when he realizes that my secret boyfriend...my first boyfriend after him...is none other than Marcus Flint."
Flint let out a small chuckle. "Didn't realize I'd made such an impression on him. What did I ever do to him?" he asked.
"Nothing...other than played on the Slytherin Quidditch team," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. She still remembered how much Ron had moaned and complained that any professional club had picked up the likes of Flint for their team.
"It might be nice to see his face go purple," Flint mused. "Wouldn't you be better off in the long run just telling them the truth? Your name would be tied with mine. Not sure if that's where you want to be."
"I just want my friends to get off my bloody back about my love life, you know?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of her chicken. "If they think I have a boyfriend, then they might shut up about how much I work for once."
"And what about when we 'break up'? Won't they go back to their old ways?" he wondered.
"No, I think that Harry will be so relieved that I'm not dating you anymore that he won't have anything to say about my love life," she mused. "For a little while, at least. And he'll manage to keep Ron in line."
Flint stole the fork out of her hand to take a bite of her potatoes. "Sounds like you've got it all planned out," he said with a shrug of those massive shoulders. "Except..."
"Except?" Hermione asked, nostrils flaring at the suggestion that she might not have thought of everything. She sat up a little straighter, trying to stare the much larger wizard down.
"Except...what's in it for me?" Flint asked with a grin.
Hermione groaned. "You mean besides the pleasure of my company?" she asked with an overly-saccharine smile.
Flint snorted. "Sounds like I could be in for a lot of abuse from your dimwitted friends," he told her.
"Oh, Marcus Flint," Hermione said, just a little bit patronizingly. "You are easily the most competitive person I ever watched play Quidditch. You once took a Beater's bat from your own teammate to hit a Bludger when you had the Quaffle under your arm."
He looked impressed that she remembered that or that she had paid enough attention during Hogwarts matches to notice the highly irregular move. It was no secret that Hermione Granger was not a Quidditch fan.
"I also know that you never would have voluntarily left a professional squad during the height of your career," she continued, staring at him over the lip of her wine glass. "Which means that you were pushed out."
That made Marcus scowl. "Might be onto something there," he said. "But unless you are bankrolling the Ballycastle Bats in your spare time, I fail to see how being your boyfriend is going to help me with that."
"Flint, even if I find Quidditch a bit boring, I'm not stupid. Why would Montrose release you when you're easily one of the best Chasers in the league?" she asked. "The timing suggests that it has to do with the scandal about your father aiding and abetting the Death Eaters."
It had been all over the news. Surprisingly, Flint's father hadn't been a Death Eater himself. However, he had donated quite heavily to Voldemort, leading to his family's near-bankruptcy. He'd been sentenced to Azkaban and had died shortly thereafter.
"I've told everyone who cares to listen that I don't approve of what my father did," he snarled. "That's why I moved out as soon as I did."
Feeling bad that he was on the defensive, Hermione reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. He flinched a bit, but didn't pull away.
"I believe you," she said, surprised to learn that she really did believe him. Hermione fully believed that Flint loved Quidditch far too much to let anything jeopardize that, especially something as mercurial as blood purity. "But you're fighting against a public relations disaster. No Quidditch squad is going to pick you back up with the Death Eater rumors swirling about."
She watched as his eyes fluttered shut. He let out a great weary sigh. "I still don't see how you;re going to get me back on a team," he said, sounding defeated.
Hermione graced him with a little smile. "Flint, I'm a war heroine, Harry Potter's best friend, rising star at the Ministry, Order of Merlin recipient," she said, hating the way that it sounded like she was bragging. "Do you think that I would date someone who had been a Death Eater? Would a Death Eater attend Harry Potter's wedding?"
"Malfoy's invited," he pointed out glumly.
She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy is a special case," she answered, knowing that Harry and Draco had some weird sort of understanding. "Come on, don't you see? You'll get so much favorable press that Quidditch teams will be begging you to sign a contract! And by the time we mutually part ways next year, no one will remember anything about the rumors."
He met her gaze cautiously. His grey-blue eyes were brimming with hope. "I really want to play Quidditch again," he whispered, twisting his hand so that he could hold hers.
"Well...are you going to come with me to Ron's engagement party on Saturday, then?" she asked eagerly. "And all wedding-related events until Harry and Ginny tie the knot next year?"
Flint thought about it for a minute, before he nodded profusely. "Alright, Granger, you drive a hard bargain, but yes, I'll be your secret boyfriend," he said, with a hint of a smirk on his face. "I have to say, you are more conniving than I would have guessed. I think you've got a hint of Slytherin in you."
Hermione flushed at the suggestion. "Ha, I don't know that your house would claim me," she answered, wondering if using his ambitions against him was really a Slytherin tactic.
"If I have any party or engagement that would typically involve a partner, you'll have to go," he added. "And you'll have to meet my friends."
She wasn't entirely sure who his friends were, but she didn't think that it could be worse than discussing floral arrangements with Lavender. "Deal," she agreed. "We can even arrange for some outings so the Daily Prophet can snag some pictures of us together."
With their tentative agreement hammered out, Hermione signaled for her bill and paid. She promised to owl Marcus with details ahead of the party and her Floo address so they could arrive together. Then she left to walk home, questioning her sanity.
Had she really roped Marcus Flint of all wizards into being her secret boyfriend? She just hoped that she had made the right choice and he wouldn't turn out to be a terrible person. She was sure that the look on Ron's face would be worth it. Maybe she and Flint - no, Marcus, she should get used to calling him Marcus - would even have a bit of fun.