A/N: Thanks for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! I know that you are all excited for Hermione to meet Marcus's friends and I promise that it will happen soon, but not quite in this chapter yet. 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 seven and be on the lookout for chapter eight tomorrow!
An opportunity to speak with Harry one on one presented itself about a week and a half after his engagement party. Ron had injured himself during some training exercises and had to pull out of their standing lunch to be seen by the Ministry Healer.
"I have to admit that I'm a little bit excited to have lunch just with you today," Hermione told Harry when he met her at her office. She grimaced, realizing how harsh that sounded. "Don't tell Ron I told you that."
Harry just laughed. "Don't worry. I completely understand what you mean," he agreed. "Ron hasn't been able to talk about much other than the wedding lately. Or you and Marcus."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, surprised to hear that.
"I think it's finally sinking in that you guys are really together. Honestly, I think he's a bit hurt that you kept it a secret for so long. Also, I think he feels bad that he was always talking poorly about how much time you spent wrapped up in work when you really did have someone."
Hermione snorted. Of course Ron would feel embarrassed about being wrong. "He shouldn't make so many assumptions about me and my life. I didn't want to share it right away when...I knew that Marcus being a Slytherin was going to be difficult for him to accept," she said. "I didn't think the argument was worth it if it didn't end up being serious."
"And it is serious? You and Marcus?" Harry asked as they finally made their way into the Muggle world.
"Not as serious as you guys," Hermione answered. She didn't want there to be any confusion. She and Marcus were not going to be fake engaged, too. "But serious enough to put up with Ron's wild accusations."
"He just wants you to be happy," Harry told her gently.
"Why do I have to be with someone to be happy?" she demanded, feeling the irritation fester under her skin once again. She'd been perfectly content with her life before she started fake dating Marcus. Her work was very fulfilling and she had wonderful friends to surround herself with. "Life's purpose is not limited to a romantic partner."
"You don't," Harry agreed. "I just think that Ron knows how happy Lavender makes him and he wants that for you, too. He means well."
When they finally arrived at their usual restaurant, Hermione was glad for the interruption to their tense conversation. She didn't want to spend her lunch hour arguing with Harry. She wanted to pick his brain about Marcus's position in Quidditch. They both went to the counter to order lunch before returning to their usual booth.
"I actually did want to talk to you about Marcus," Hermione said, nibbling at her lower lip, hoping that Harry wouldn't realize anything was amiss. "At your party, I realized just how much Marcus has put into learning about me, my job, and the Muggle world even though I know it doesn't particularly interest him."
"Really?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised. "I can't imagine him doing anything Muggle."
"I actually think I might have created a bit of a monster, showing him a football match on the telly," she said with a smirk. "He already knows more about it than I do."
Harry looked suitably impressed. "Well, I have to say he's impressed me so far," he said.
"He's great," Hermione agreed fondly. Her eyes dropped to the table, afraid of what she might see on Harry's face. "But it's made me realize how horrid I've been. I haven't taken any time to learn about Quidditch, which is his life's true passion. I spent my years at Hogwarts watching you chase a snitch through my fingers - I never took the time to pay attention to the rest of the sport."
When Hermione finally looked back up from the worn wood, Harry was looking at her with an odd sort of look on his face.
"You want to learn more about Quidditch?" he asked, dumbfounded.
Hermione felt her cheeks flush a bright pink. "Maybe I should have just asked Ginny," she said quickly, wondering why she hadn't. "Or written to Viktor."
Harry looked affronted at the suggestion. "No, don't be silly. Of course I will help you. It's just..." he trailed off for a moment, looking at her with new eyes. "It's just I'm realizing how serious this really is if you're asking to learn about Quidditch. This feels more significant than you getting a room with him at my party."
Her flush only deepened. "Really, Harry, we're all adults here," she said, not wanting to talk about that with him. She'd hoped it would scandalize her friends so much that they wouldn't bring it up.
"No judgement, just surprised," he added with a smile. "Alright well, Marcus is a Chaser, as I'm sure you already know. And they go after the Quaffle."
"I do know a little bit, Harry," Hermione admonished with a roll of her eyes.
Their food arrived shortly after and Harry filled the rest of their lunch hour delving deeply into Quidditch tactics with her, describing Chasers in general, before detailing Marcus's particular style of play. Hermione had obviously known that he was a great player - he had to be if he'd been in the professional leagues - but she was pleased to learn that he was extremely well suited to the role.
When they finished lunch and started making their way back to the Ministry, Hermione began asking what Marcus could do, if his Quidditch career was really over.
Harry seemed convinced that Marcus would absolutely hop on a broom again, but if the English leagues didn't want him, he was certain that a foreign league would be happy to take him. Barring that, Harry opined that he might find success in coaching or in the Ministry's Games department.
Hermione didn't necessarily share his optimism. If a team wouldn't pick him up because of Death Eater rumors, why would the Ministry?
Returning to her desk, she didn't have much time to think about Quidditch or Marcus. Instead, she threw herself straight into her next target of review: how the Statute of Secrecy disproportionately harmed Muggle-borns, including delayed notification of Muggle-born students of their magical powers. Hermione herself knew about the undue stress that caused. Her own parents had been very concerned about the oddities that always happened around their daughter.
She spent the rest of the afternoon deciding what kind of statistics and data she would need to support her arguments. In the blink of an eye, the day was over and she was one of the last people to leave the office.
Hermione eagerly returned home, wondering what she was going to do for dinner. Once again, her fridge was likely dreadfully empty. Crookshanks greeted her enthusiastically when she walked in the door, sprawling at her feet so she couldn't hope to walk past him before giving him a generous belly pet.
Once her half-Kneazle was content, Hermione kicked off her shoes and hung her cloak by the door. Stretching her arms over her head, she walked back to her bedroom so that she could change into more comfortable clothes.
She had barely made herself presentable when she heard an excited knocking at her door. Pursing her lips, Hermione wondered who it could be. Opening her door cautiously - Moody's constant vigilance still rang in her head all these months later - Hermione was surprised to see Marcus waiting on the other side.
"Marcus?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
They didn't have a reason to see each other for many months yet.
A broad grin spread on his face and he pulled a cold bottle of champagne from behind his back. "You'll never guess what's happened," he said, entering her cottage once she'd made space for him.
"Tell me then," Hermione said with a grin of her own. His happiness was infectious.
"You aren't even going to try to guess?" he asked, sounding a little bit disappointed.
"You said I would never guess!" Hermione argued. "Just spit it out already."
"The Appleby Arrows have picked me up for the season!" he said, unable to keep the secret in any longer. "I can't believe it, but your war hero princess thing really did it. Our 'relationship' has actually covered up any of the Death Eater rumors and I'll be playing Quidditch again professionally in a matter of weeks."
Marcus was absolutely brimming with excited energy, obviously thrilled beyond belief that he would be able to play again. Hermione had known how important it was to him, but she was surprised to realize just how happy she was for him.
Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around his trim waist and gave him a tight squeeze. "Oh, Marcus, that's excellent!" she said, genuinely pleased. "Congratulations!"
He picked her up by the waist, spinning her around in the air. Hermione felt her breath leave her at the sudden movement, her eyes meeting Marcus's grey-blue ones. Her heart began beating faster in her chest.
Before he could put her down, Marcus pressed his lips to hers in a firm kiss. "Honestly, Granger, this whole fake relationship thing has been... a lot, but getting to play Quidditch again makes it all worth it," he told her.
With her feet back on the ground, Hermione stilled at his words. She was taken aback to hear that Marcus saw spending time with her as a chore. She had thought that they'd been enjoying each other's company, but maybe Flint was a better actor than he let on. It was a good reminder to not get too attached, though.
"Well, I'm sure you'll want to celebrate," she said, her smile faltering just a bit.
"Duh, why do you think I came over?" he asked, holding up the champagne bottle once again. "Where do you keep your glasses?"
Hermione followed the tall wizard into her kitchen, where he started to open cabinets looking for some sort of vessel to put the sparkling beverage in. She went to get out a pair of glasses.
"I'm just sort of surprised that you'd want to celebrate with...with me," she said, hating that she sounded so breathless. "I mean, surely your friends are more fun than me."
"Are you joking? You're the whole reason I'm even on a team right now. Of course I'm going to celebrate with you. Plus, you're my girlfriend," he said with a smirk, before popping out the cork and pouring them each a healthy amount. "I can celebrate with them once I get my signing bonus at the end of the week."
"Hey, I'm not really the reason that you're on a team. I know that you are a dynamic sort of Chaser that teams are desperate for. A playmaker," Hermione said, happy to share some of her new knowledge.
"Have you been learning about Quidditch?" Marcus asked, suddenly a bit suspicious.
"I might have asked Harry for some details," she explained, feeling her cheeks go pink. "I am your girlfriend. It's something I should know."
Marcus looked like he didn't quite know what to say. "Thanks," he said eventually, touched. "I know that it's not something you're very interested in."
"Some of the strategy was more interesting than I expected," Hermione conceded, though she wasn't sure that she would ever get over her fear of the quick-paced flying to truly enjoy the sport. "Honestly, I was always so focused on Harry and his apparent death wish when chasing the Snitch, I never really watched much of the rest of the game."
"Really? Even when Weasley was Keeper?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"All he had to do was stop the ball. Harry hurtled straight towards the ground," Hermione tried to explain, though it really did sound awful.
Perhaps that had been a sign that maybe she hadn't liked Ron as much as she thought she did.
"I'm happy to spend as much time talking about tactics with you as you want," he told her. "Just say the word."
Marcus smirked at her then in that cheeky way of his. Initially, his smirk had annoyed her, but now she found that she liked the way it transformed his face into something friendly, teasing, good-natured. As she looked at the line of his jaw and brow, she wondered how anyone could have thought that Marcus Flint had troll's blood. He was handsome, just not in an obvious way.
Needing to do something other than fawn over his piercing eyes, Hermione quickly grabbed her glass and held it in the air. "Well, cheers to the finest Chaser that Appleby has ever seen," she said, clinking glasses with him.
The bubbly tickled her nose and throat when she drank it, immediately multiplying the giddiness she was beginning to feel. It was an expensive bottle and Hermione was once again struck by the thought that Marcus had wanted to share this with her.
All his early bravado suddenly evaporated and was replaced by an endearing sort of humility. Taking her compliment quietly, he took a drink himself before pouring them each another glass.
"Come on, we'll finish this and then we can go out to the Hag's Head," he said.
"I can't go out - it's a work night!" she said weakly.
"Hermione, I know you well enough to know that you've nothing for dinner here," he said firmly. "I'll buy you dinner and we can celebrate properly. And if you have to owl in to work tomorrow, who cares. It would be the first time since you started, wouldn't it?"
She bit her lower lip, thinking that it did sound a bit fun to go out and let off some steam with Marcus. "Fine," she agreed without much hesitation. "How do you know so much about my icebox, anyway?" she added, wondering when she'd gotten such an ill-prepared reputation for herself.
"Because you do the same thing every week," Marcus teased. "You do your shopping on the weekend, but only for the first half of the week. You mean to go again during the week but you never have the time after work."
Pausing, she could admit that Marcus was observant. "That sounds about right," she agreed. "I haven't been to the Hag in ages though. They probably miss me."
"You're by far the biggest celebrity that goes in there," Marcus said with a snort. "I'm sure they do miss having you come in. It must be good for business."
She scrunched her nose in disbelief. "Oh, don't say that. They just leave me alone and treat me like anyone else," she said. "I'm not a celebrity."
"Well, I'm going to need your celebrity status for one other thing," Marcus said, looking a little bit worried about her reaction. "My new manager invited us both to dinner with his wife. I got the impression that not bringing you wasn't an option."
"Oh," Hermione said, surprised. She could hardly believe that her presence was so desired by a Quidditch coach. "I mean, of course I'll go with you. It was part of our agreement, after all."
Marcus faltered for a second. "Yeah, exactly," he agreed, before taking a peek at her glass. Seeing that it was nearly empty again, he topped it up.
When they had finished the bottle, Hermione felt warm and like she could just float away. They left arm in arm to make the short walk to the Hag's Head, Hermione leaning on Marcus for a little bit of support.
"You'll have to buy me a really good dinner, now that you've tried to get me drunk, Marcus Flint," she teased. "Ooh, maybe they'll have their fish and chips."
"You'll have to share your chips with me, then," he answered back. "Just like last time."
He looked down at her with that teasing smirk once again and gave her a little wink.
"Oh please! You were so focused on the football that you didn't even realize that I was cuddled up right next to you in nothing but a robe!" Hermione countered, annoyed to admit that she wasn't as interesting as a Muggle sport to him.
"Ah, so you were cuddling then?" he asked, sounding intrigued. "I wasn't sure."
Hermione gave him a light tap on the arm and found herself momentarily distracted by how firm his bicep was. She remembered how effortlessly he'd picked her up when he arrived at her cottage. Godric, he was strong.
"Marcus, it was a romantic evening. How could it not be cuddling?" she teased back.
He grabbed her arm and held it to his chest. "You know the way to my heart, then," he said.
She knew that he was just teasing, but it made her own heart skip a beat.
Mercifully, she was saved by them arriving at the Hag's Head. Without giving herself a chance to think, Hermione wrapped her own arm around his waist to hold herself tightly to him.
"Alright, tell me about your favorite Quidditch fouls," Hermione said, hoping to keep them on a more neutral topic. "Harry explained the basics."
"What makes you think I've got one?" Marcus countered, leading them to the table where they had first met at. Depositing her into her own side of the booth, he waved down the barman to bring them a menu.
Hermione snorted. "Come on, you might be the most talented Chaser who will ever play for Appleby," she said with a little grin. "But I have a feeling that you'll also be the most penalized."
"You know me too well, Granger," he conceded genially, before launching into the pros and cons of each of the Quidditch fouls he could remember.