Dictionary

Sex noun 1. group of males or females collectively 2. fact of belonging to either group 3. sexual instincts, desires, activity, etc. sex appeal/sex life/sex symbol

Chapter Seven

'Don't take this the wrong way but you look like crap.'

'How on earth can I take "you look crap" in any other way!'

Blaise laughed as he watched Ginny subconsciously push at the wrinkles in her crumpled skirt, pull her hand through her hair and glance at her reflection in the window. It was funny the way people became so defensive when they knew the truth of the matter. For them it was alright to think they looked awful, but heaven forbid anyone else should pass comment on their appearance. In these instances it wasn't a matter of feeling a bit rough; they were being an individual, making a stand against the conventions of traditional dress sense and fashion obsessed fascists. Given the opportunity though Ginny would have leapt at the chance of some clean clothes and a long bath.

'Maybe if you kept an House Elf then you wouldn't have to wear clothes that have been lying at the bottom of your laundry basket for three weeks,' Blaise remarked as he folded up the newspaper he'd been reading. 'Then again there's no saying that you still wouldn't look like you'd been dragged through an hedge backwards. You obviously can't handle your liquor well.'

'I can hold my liquor just fine thank you.' Ginny moved across the room and dropped a pile of papers on Draco's desk meaningfully. 'I'm just a little…'

'Hungover?'

'Tired actually,' she said tightly, obviously trying to avoid losing her temper. 'I didn't sleep very well last night.'

Blaise couldn't help but feel that this might be an understatement. Often Ginny complained of restless nights and accounted them to having had a traumatic experience whilst at Hogwarts. She claimed that she hardly ever dreamt and when she did they were nightmares. Suddenly she'd be the scared little girl caught up in something so dark that it made her skin crawl at the thought of it. Ginny had never divulged the actual event that had robbed her of sweet dreams but Blaise could imagine that it was probably pretty horrific. After all she had spent time with Harry Potter and his consorts; that boy had attracted danger like no other person Blaise had ever met. Then again his awful floppy hair was probably enough to give even a saint an uneasy night.

Nightmares had always been something he could relate to. Ever since the war he'd been haunted by the smell of rotting flesh, the coppery taste of blood and the unbridled hatred inflicted upon complete strangers. In death both sides had seemed so alike. What was it the Muggle's believed? All flesh is grass. That was true enough, he reflected bringing to mind the scenes of mass slaughter. It had been hard to separate the friend from the foe and the earth from the dead. Shaking his head he tried to stop the thoughts breaking through his barrier of resolve. Azkaban hadn't helped.

'Where's Draco this morning?' Ginny asked suddenly, in a voice that suggested she'd been wanting to ask the question for some time. 'Shouldn't he be here for the review of the case?'

'I believe he has another, more pressing, engagement.'

Ginny crossed her arms, bit her lip in thought and frowned as she gazed at the pile of papers she'd just deposited. 'What could be more pressing than deciding on whether or not a girl is innocent of murder? Then again what more should I expect? He's seen this case as simple right from the beginning with no thought as to whether the girl did the crime or not! There could be a murderer out there! Does Draco even realise that people are relying on him to find the culprit? He's a conceited pig!'

Blaise frowned slightly. 'Are we angry at the murderer or Malfoy?'

'I just can't believe he's not here to close the case,' she said with a sad look towards the door. 'I thought he might care more.'

'About the case or about you?' Blaise said with a sly grin. 'It sounds to me like you two haven't made up after your lover's tiff yesterday.'

Ginny gave an indignant huff and stalked over to her desk. 'You have the maturity of a three year old. I don't know why I even bother trying to have an adult conversation with you.'

'Despite that, however, you still ended up on my doorstep last night.'

As he spoke the office door opened and Cho Chang serenely walked into the room without invitation. Her long black hair swung low on her back and she was sporting a tight black dress that flattered her lithe figure. Blaise observed that she was wearing a confident smile that suggested she was in control of the whole situation. That was one thing he enjoyed about the company of Cho; she knew what she wanted and how to get it without breaking a sweat. She was also brutally honest and was worth having on your side in and argument. Oh and she had a killer right hook if he recalled rightly. He'd sworn then that it was the last time he got involved with dominant women. Especially those who preferred the company of their own sex.

'Blaise. Ginny,' Cho greeted softly.

'What do we owe to this pleasure?' Blaise asked as he swung his feet up onto his desk. 'I sincerely hope you haven't the notion to ask us to do some work for you.'

'Oh Blaise,' she said with a smirk to rival his own. 'You are a caution.'

Blaise nodded his head in recognition to the truth of that statement. 'I pride myself on it.'

Ginny rolled her eyes in the customary way she did when she was growing impatient with Blaise's tendency for flirtatious banter. 'Ignore him. Is there anything I can help you with?'

'Actually I was hoping that I might get a chance to speak with Malfoy,' Cho said, turning her attention to Ginny with a polite smile. 'Is he in?'

'He's busy at the moment,' Blaise provided before Ginny could even open her mouth. 'Unfortunately he has pressing matters outside the Ministry. He won't be back in the office until tomorrow.'

'Even then I think you might find it difficult to catch him at a spare moment,' Ginny cut in with a glare aimed at Blaise. 'He's got a review in the morning, a court case in the afternoon and an interview with The Prophet towards the end of the day.'

'My, aren't we informed?' Cho purred gently. 'Anyone would think you were his secretary rather than an investigator.'

As much as Blaise enjoyed Cho's company, he couldn't help feeling protective over Ginny. Unlike him, she had spent little time with Cho and was unaccustomed to her way of speaking her mind. Although she probably didn't seek to cause Ginny offence, it was easy to translate her remark as an insult rather than a comment on Ginny's ability to recall Draco's timetable. Already he could see a blush rising on Ginny's cheeks as humiliation at being called a glorified secretary began to set in. Knowing Ginny he knew that this would probably be followed by an angry outburst that would make her appear even more foolish than usual.

Before Blaise could diffuse the situation Cho opened her mouth and spoke. 'Can I make an appointment?'

Ginny's mouth dropped opened. 'Excuse me?'

'I assume that I need to make an appointment in order to speak to Malfoy. After all he is dreadfully busy what with one thing and another. Maybe he could squeeze me in between the court case and the interview? It is fairly important.'

A laugh escaped Blaise's lips as he watched the scene unfolding. The question was whether he should let them get into an argument or quickly change the topic? On one hand it'd amuse him endlessly to see a girly fight ensue in the office. On the other, Malfoy would kill him if he found out that Blaise had knowingly allowed a dispute to occur without pulling things to a halt. Oh it was a tough choice.

'I'm not Malfoy's secretary,' Ginny said with a hint of menace. 'If you want to make an appointment with him then talk to Blaise. I have work to do.'

Good old Ginny could be relied on to do the sensible thing, Blaise thought with an affectionate smile. Already she had her head buried in a book on criminology. He turned his attention back to Cho and saw that she was looking at him expectantly. 'I think he can probably - what was it you said? - squeeze you in somewhere. Why don't you leave it with me? I'll contact you tomorrow morning with the details.'

Cho arched her eyebrows at Blaise's innuendo. 'I'll expect you early,' she said before leaving the office, closing the door behind her.

'I hate that woman!' Ginny screeched after a couple of minutes of silence had passed. 'I mean, do I look like Malfoy's bloody secretary!'

'Now, now Weasley. We both know your more than that to Malfoy.'

'Why is it that you cannot accept that a man and a woman can be friends without sex getting in the way! You and Malfoy are both as bad as each other!'

'Meaning?'

'Only yesterday was he suggesting that you and I were more than just friends! Now you're saying that Malfoy and I are involved! I'm really getting sick of it,' she said slamming her book down on the desk. 'Why can't I just be on my own? There's nothing wrong with being single, you know.'

Interesting, Blaise thought to himself. Ever since Ginny had joined the office he had acknowledged that he found her attractive. It wasn't just that she had a great figure, although that definitely had something to do with it. She had a knack of making him feel like he meant something. With most women he approached them as a predator. There was little substance to any relationship he had with them and they never lasted very long. With Ginny though it wasn't about sex. It was about wanting something he'd never wanted before; romance, friendship, companionship and love. However he also knew that his whole heart wasn't into it. He loved his lifestyle too much to try and seduce his friend.

Malfoy on the other hand did have his whole heart in it, or at least that's what Blaise suspected. He was the kind of man who took no joy from meaningless relationships. Sex was sex, nothing flowery or deep. At least Blaise pretended that there was more to his encounters, but Malfoy treated it as a function that needed servicing occasionally. That wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy the act; it just wasn't about enjoying it with his partner. However Malfoy was very possessive over Ginny which suggested that, like Blaise, the attraction was not merely about sex. It was probably the constant battling that made her different from the other women who approached Malfoy.

'You know what you told me last night…about Draco?' she asked softly, breaking the silence in the room.

'I'm surprised you remember anything I said about him,' Blaise said with a snort. 'You were completely off your face at the time.'

She glared at him, taking the defensive again even though she couldn't deny his point. 'Well, I do remember that particular part.'

'I only told you that because you asked. It isn't exactly public knowledge.'

'I know,' she said sternly. 'It's just I didn't think he was capable of that kind of thing.'

Blaise sighed and fiddled with a pencil lying on his desk. How had he got himself into this mess? When Ginny had turned up, confused about what had happened at home and needing someone to talk to, he had invited her in with open arms. Mostly he'd been curious about what Malfoy had said. Having known him for a long time, he'd never known him to be so unrestrained. In the old days he would not have merely suggested that they were intimate, he would have demanded it. These days though it was highly unlikely that he would even reveal anything personal about himself. Malfoy had developed certain traits from his days as an interrogator which he had been unable to drop. For one his face remained closed at all times. It had taken Blaise a while to get used to the cold, sneering features.

'It was a time of war. Extraordinary times call for equal deeds. We all did things which we would never have normally done,' his voice was thoughtful as he spoke. 'Last night… I was just warning you about what you were dealing with. He's a very dangerous man and sometimes I think you forget that.'

'You're dangerous too.'

'True. Although I would like to think I have the edge on Malfoy, I fear that I might not.' A smile pulled at his lips and he snorted gently. 'Don't let him know that I said that though. I'd never hear the end of it.'

'I won't,' she said gently. 'I don't understand why he hasn't told me himself though.'

'He was an interrogator. The people he dealt with were vicious killers. Telling your employee that you've tortured hundreds of people in the name of democracy isn't exactly trivial. I only told you because I believe that you have a right to know…'

Already he was beginning to regret having told Ginny about Malfoy's violent past. The drink had been flowing and she'd seemed so distraught over something so silly as her reaction to a proposition. He'd felt sorry for her confusion. Soon she was asking how well Blaise knew Draco and whether he thought Draco had meant it when he had suggested he wanted Ginny sexually. Of course he could believe it! Who wouldn't? Putting it into perspective had meant telling Ginny the truth. Malfoy rarely allowed emotion to rule him because he'd had extensive training. He was verbal water torture not a gushing river of passion.

Malfoy was going to kill him. Literally.

'There's something else…I think I might have upset him. It's just normally I get up at seven, I put the radio on and I make breakfast. While I'm doing that Draco uses the bathroom and then we swap and go to work. This morning I wasn't feeling too great, for obvious reasons, so getting up was a bit of a strain. I can't even remember how I got to bed in the first place… Anyway I eventually made it to the kitchen to find that he had gone. He doesn't usually leave that early,' as she spoke she was toying with her sleeve, her eyes fixed on a stain on her desk. 'I just have the feeling that I might have done something last night.'

'Ask him,' Blaise said simply. 'He's not going to lie to you.'

'What if I said something I wasn't supposed to know? I mean, where is he?'

'He had other matters to deal with,' Blaise said firmly. 'You know he's often needed by other departments.'

'So you don't think he's avoiding me because of what happened yesterday?' she said with arched eyebrows.

'Since when has Malfoy been one to shy away from confrontation? He'd probably have loved to flaunt your humiliation at his advances. You're forgetting he's a complete bastard.'

Ginny put her head on the desk and let out a howl of distress. It was quite endearing the way she couldn't contain any emotion, he thought to himself. She was the complete opposite to Draco in that she was an open book. She took almost every emotion to the extreme. Sometimes she was happy and other times she was angry. "Fine" was not a word she would even consider using.

'What's the worse that could have happened?' Blaise asked with a large gesture.

Ginny looked up from the surface of her desk and glared at him. 'Sex.'

xXx

'Let me get this straight. You don't believe in having a one true love?'

'Think about it rationally. If there was such a thing as one true love then we wouldn't have an attraction to lots of different people. People fall in and out of love all the time, so it can hardly exist? We live in a country with growing levels of divorce and remarriage, it makes sense that we should share the love. So to speak.'

Hermione smiled slightly as she watched Fred talk. 'That's a very cynical thing to say. I mean, look at your parents. They're still together and seemingly mad about one another.'

'Yeah,' Fred conceded. 'They are happy. I'm not saying there's no such thing as love, but if anything happened to Mum or Dad I would hope they could find new love and move on. If one true love existed then it would be a life of misery once you lost your partner!'

A yawn caught Hermione off guard and she looked at her watch. 'You realise we've been talking for five hours now? It's three in the morning!'

Fred turned and frowned at the clock. 'So it is. Am I keeping you up?'

'Yes!' she laughed. 'Whatever will Mrs Dempsey say when I stroll in looking like death warmed up?'

'Oh I reckon she'll probably berate you severely. Maybe put you over her knee and smack you with a good book,' he grinned to himself. 'Either that or she'll lecture you on the need for a good night's sleep. She'll probably assume you're living some sort of debauched lifestyle.'

Since running away from the party Fred and Hermione had been sitting on her couch discussing life, the universe and everything. They'd talked about their shops, their families, their dislike of sea food and finally the conversation had turned to love. At first Hermione had felt uncomfortable with the situation; she'd perched on the edge of the couch, smoothing out her dress and fiddling with her hair self-consciously. As the hours ticked by though she'd found herself relaxing into the swing of things. She'd kicked off her pinching shoes, tucked her legs under her and leant back into the fluffy pillows lining the couch. Fred on the other hand had seemed instantly at home, putting his feet up on her coffee table and reclining in a lazy manner. It had felt so natural for them to be this at ease with one another. For once Hermione felt comfortable in her own skin and no longer worried about keeping up appearances.

'I don't think anyone would believe that I had a debauched lifestyle,' she replied twirling a strand of hair around her finger. 'Everyone tends to think I'm a saint. You don't see many saints partying into the early hours of the morning and waking up with a different man in their bed each morning.'

'You don't!' Fred touched his chest slightly and looked offended. 'Next you'll be telling me that you do other things like reading or, dare I say it, knitting.'

'I am partial to a bit of knitting occasionally but that's pushing the boat out a bit,' she laughed softly. 'Normally I just stick to the reading.'

'That explains the reason you have a book shop then,' he concluded with a sweeping hand gesture. 'Though that book you were reading the other day was a little bit racy for my taste. Saints shouldn't read Erica Erotica.'

Hermione could feel a blush spreading across her face. She'd managed to forget her foolishness when confronted with Fred at the book shop. It had been mortifying to let the man she lusted after see her in such a state of embarrassment. She never had dealt with humiliation well.

'Well, as Mrs Dempsey said, I was testing it out for the shop,' she said in the most dignified voice she could summon. 'Obviously that isn't my kind of book.'

Fred gave her a disbelieving look. 'You and I both know that that is a fib Miss Granger. A giant fib. A fib so big it has it's own chain of supermarkets and seven wives each in a different house. In a different country to one another.'

'Okay, okay. Maybe I do enjoy an occasional dip into the Erica Erotica range. But hardly ever. Only a couple of times in fact because they aren't exactly intellectual reading…' she babbled helplessly.

'It's alright!' Fred laughed. 'I'm teasing you. You're a big girl now so you can read what you like.'

'Sometimes I get the feeling that you see me as the girl I was at school,' she said softly as she picked at a stray bit of fluff on the cushion she was cuddling. 'I'm not that person. I'm not that innocent.'

Fred patted her leg reassuringly sending a flutter to her stomach. She hated it when he made physical contact with her because it meant she had to pretend it didn't affect her in the way it did. It all happened like it does in the books. First would come the butterflies, then the jelly legs and finally the disintegration of her ability to speak. Again it all led to embarrassment, humiliation and mortification. Fancying Fred really took a lot out of her; it was enough to make her wonder why she even bothered. It wasn't as if he was ever going to suddenly realise he was madly in love with her.

Suddenly his hand was on hers and she looked up to find his face looking quizzical. 'Penny for your thoughts?'

'Oh really, they're very boring. You wouldn't be interested,' she said dismissively. 'Anyway we were talking about your parents.'

'No, we were talking about you,' he chuckled to himself and his hand retreated from her. 'So don't change the subject. You were about to tell me how you weren't as innocent as we all think you are.'

'I really don't think I was…' she said tightly.

'How naughty are we talking?' Fred asked with a wide grin. 'Bondage? Multiple partners? Kinky underwear? Or just full blown sex? I want all the details.'

'Oh come on…' she said putting her hands up in a defensive manner.

'When was the last time you had sex?'

'What!' she was definitely bright red now.

'You heard me Miss Granger. When was the last time you had sex?' he turned to face her, crossing his legs and leaning in ready to listen. 'Tell Uncle Fred.'

'I'm not answering that question,' she said in a defiant tone. 'It's just not…proper.'

'Okay, I'll tell you when I last had sex and then you'll have to tell me. We'll trade information on one another,' he said with a suggestive raise of one eyebrow. 'I last had sex nine days ago. You?'

Hermione's eyes grew wide. 'Nine days ago! Who with?'

'I thought we were trading information. Just tell me.'

Okay, she thought, how do I tell him it's been thirteen months without sounding desperate? It had been about that long since her and Neville had split up and she had been loathe to get involved with another man whilst she was busy building herself a business. Plus there had been the fact that she'd been lusting after Fred. At the back of her mind there had always been the vain hope that he would reciprocate her feelings. Her over active imagination often took over and she found that reality didn't really meet up to any of her expectations. She'd become so set on dreaming about Fred that she couldn't even consider finding herself a new partner…unless it was Fred of course.

That was the problem with dreams. It was alright when they were surreal and bounced off the walls of her imagination. Sometimes she dreamed that she lived in a shoe box with a giraffe called Jeremy who enjoyed golf. Of course this wasn't surreal to some witches but to her it went against her Muggle upbringing. Then there were nightmares which terrified her out of sleep. Sometimes she would wake up and the face of Voldemort would still be hanging about her head. Her screams would echo off the walls, irritating the neighbours and scaring the cat. Finally there were the dreams that seemed real. She hated it when she dreamt about an ordinary day, but instead of being single and lonely she had Fred as her boyfriend. The wedding dreams were worse still. It was so frustrating to wake up and be alone again.

'You'll only laugh,' she said finally rising from the couch and padding over to the kitchen. As everything was open plan she was unable to hide from Fred unless she went to the loo, and that would be too obvious. 'Would you like some cocoa?'

He followed her lead and went to the kitchen counter where she was placing clean mugs on the surface. 'I promise I won't laugh.'

Opening the kitchen drawer Hermione pulled her wand out. She'd found that this was the most convenient place to leave it when she didn't need it. After the battle with Voldemort she'd taken to sleeping with it under her pillow, but waking up as a gerbil more than twice and accidentally hexing Ron had led her to believe that this wasn't a wise idea. Then she'd tried to find somewhere not too obvious to leave it in case she was attacked at home. So the kitchen drawer had been the best place. Twirling it in her fingers she silently conjured up two mugs full of steaming cocoa. She didn't have outstanding grades in every subject for no reason.

'Would it be easier if I took a guess?' he asked as she offered him a mug.

'If you really feel it's necessary.'

Fred took a tentative sip and nodded slightly. 'Let us see… It's been about a year since you dated dreary Neville. We'll assume you consummated the relationship with him, although I shudder to think of why any sane woman would do that. Therefore if you have had sex with anyone else it hasn't been a partner. However I can't see you being the kind of woman who would have promiscuous sex without there being some kind of emotional connection. Like most women you're looking for a partner, not a mate. With this in mind I can conclude that it must have been a year. This would explain your reticence to divulge the length of time and why you read Erica Erotica. Am I right?'

The first feeling that flooded her system was outrage. How dare he assume so much! It didn't matter that it was true. As a woman she did not want men to take one look at her and see a desperate wannabe housewife. She didn't want to be considered as waiting for Mr Right. Well she would be damned if Fred of all people believed she was some sort of celibate - not that there was anything wrong with practising it, she just didn't want him to know.

'You couldn't be more wrong,' she said defiantly.

'Oh really?' Fred said with a sly smile. 'If I'm so wrong then why don't you set the record straight? Or is this a matter of female pride?'

'I don't see why I should have to prove myself. It's my body and I'll do what a want with it!'

'And a very nice body it is.'

Hermione's eyes widened and Fred shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. Was it her imagination or was he looking more than a little bashful? Part of her was grinning with happiness at the thought of what he had said, the other part questioning why he'd said it at all.

'That is to say that you're a fine figure of a woman and you're right. I shouldn't have nosed around in your affairs because it's juvenile,' Fred said trying to regain the banter. 'I was just curious. Sorry.'

Hermione smiled slightly. 'So you think I have a nice body?'

'Well…yes,' he said with a firm nod. 'I think you've got a great figure.'

Suddenly she had an epiphany. Fred wasn't the only one with power. He had already admitted that he had a love of women in general and she was a woman. This meant that she must automatically qualify for something or other in his affections. A thought began to form in her mind. Maybe she was doing everything all wrong when it came to Fred. Maybe the best way to get what she wanted was to make him think she didn't want him. It worked in all the Muggle movies she watched. Then again maybe it was the cocoa talking. She would never know unless she tried…

'If you must know it's been two days.'

Fred choked on his cocoa. 'With who! Father Christmas?'

With a deep breath Hermione tried to control her urge to get angry. 'You and Neville aren't the only one's who think I have a nice body, Fred. It can't be that hard to believe that I have admirers, can it?'

'I find it hard to believe that the Hermione I know would do such a thing without being in a relationship.'

'Maybe there are things about me you don't know,' she said padding back to the couch and throwing herself onto it. Putting her mug on the coffee table she manoeuvred onto her stomach and stretched out along the couch. Gently she rested her head on a cushion and pushed her hair to one side. It had been a long time since she'd felt in any way sexy.

From where she lay she could see Fred was watching her intently. He was leaning against the kitchen counter and the way the light was in the room made him look slightly menacing. She noticed that the first couple of buttons on his shirt were undone, the creases now well pronounced, and his hair was ruffled from running his hand through it. Her heart was racing in her chest but she was determined to remain cool and disengaged - no matter what happened.

'So who was the lucky fellow?' Fred asked pushing away from the counter and walking over to where she lay. 'Or is it a secret affair that no one must ever know about?'

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze with one of her own. 'I don't see why it should matter to you. Unless of course you're jealous?'

Fred smiled to himself. 'What makes you think that?'

'We all want things we can't have,' she whispered, unsure of how to proceed.

'Hmmm,' Fred put his mug down and crouched down so their faces were level. 'So your theory is that I'm jealous of someone you shagged because it's something I haven't done? Therefore I want you because I can't have you?'

Hermione looked away, she couldn't help it. Picking at a loose thread on a cushion cover she ignored the question, hoping he would take the hint and leave it be. She couldn't believe that she'd allowed herself to get into this position! He would probably never speak to her again. What if he told Ron? She would never hear the end of it. Already she could hear his voice: "So you thought you could seduce him? Ha! Good one." Oh he'd find it endlessly amusing.

'Hey,' his voice was soft, 'There's no need to hide that pretty face of yours.'

Slowly she raised her head and looked at him. 'You think I have a pretty face?'

A grin spread across his face. 'You know you're gorgeous. I don't have to think that for it to be true. All you need is a little more confidence. My advice is don't try to play games.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean this,' he said running a finger from her shoulder to the curve of her hip and back again. 'You sprawled out on a couch, taunting me. It's not fair to start something and not follow through.'

'I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about,' she said indignantly, praying that her blush wasn't too obvious. 'It's not my fault you find me attractive.'

'Maybe,' he murmured moving his head so their noses touched. 'Or maybe you find me attractive.'

Licking her lips Hermione tried to think of something, anything, to reply. 'Maybe.'

'Maybe there was no man two nights ago…' he said inching closer to her, his eyes on her mouth. 'Maybe you're just trying to make me jealous so you can have your wicked way with me.'

Hermione frowned and moved her head back. 'And maybe someone is deluding themselves as to their own attractiveness!'

'Hermione, you are going to be the death of me,' Fred sighed and hung his head. Slowly he straightened his legs until he was standing and looked down at her. 'Maybe we should stop skirting around the issue.'

'Which is?'

'That you've wanted me for months now, but don't have the guts to fight for what you want. That you wish I paid you the kind of attention I was just then. That you can't do anything spontaneous. The list is pretty much endless Hermione,' he ran a hand through his hair and swore. 'You're right, I was jealous when you told me about your mystery man. Merlin, you don't even realise how bloody stunning you look tonight! I'd be mad to not want you. The problem is that you won't just let something happen. You're driving me nuts here!'

Jumping to her feet Hermione tried to hold back the tears that were suddenly threatening to break free. How could the situation have turned ugly so quickly? He'd accused her of not fighting for her convictions, being predictable and then had the gall to call her beautiful. She was hurt beyond expression and she couldn't place which part of her hurt the most; her heart or her pride. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could start forgetting that this had ever happened.

'I think you should probably leave,' she said coldly. 'It's late and I have work tomorrow.'

'See!' he shouted pointing at her. 'This is exactly what I mean! Instead of having this conversation, you'd rather I left!'

'Please go,' she said turning away from him and viciously wiping her eye with the back of her hand.

'Merlin, woman! I'm not trying to have a fight with you,' he grabbed her arm and turned her round. 'I'm just trying to get this off my chest.'

She hung her head and stared at the carpet, blinking back the tears. All she wanted was to be left alone to wallow in her own self-pity. He knew how she felt! He'd always known. She'd embarrassed herself and he had just gone along with it all. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again?

With his free hand Fred chucked her chin so he could see her face. A smile curled the corners of his lips. Quickly he leant forward and pressed his mouth to hers. At first she stood stock still, unable to move at the shock of it all. Fred Weasley was kissing her. He had just shouted at her, made her cry and now he was kissing her. His mouth moved gently against hers and she shivered involuntarily. Her eyes closed. Soon she found that she was returning the kiss tenderly.

It didn't take long for the kiss to become more. His arms circled her waist, pulling her so close she could hardly breath. Her hands had found their way into his hair and she was tugging on it gently remembering how he ran his hands through it when he was thinking. She wasn't entirely sure why this was happening, but it felt good to be this physical after such a long time. Pulling her mouth away, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Fred smiled goofily and brushed some hair away from her face.

'Mother always said actions spoke louder than words,' Hermione whispered with a slight smile, her hand moving down his chest to his belt. 'Is this spontaneous for you?'

'Ron is going to kill me,' he murmured before kissing her again.

xXx

Harry Potter was in trouble. Of course he was used to trouble. Well, the kind of trouble that was hell bent on killing him anyway. For Merlin's sake, he'd faced Voldemort and destroyed him! He should know trouble like an old friend, broken in and old. Instead though he found himself beginning to panic. This was a dilemma he was not accustomed to. A problem of the heart some would say. Others would say it was another part of his anatomy he should be worrying about.

Through his life he'd had several girlfriends. Cho had been a mistake obviously, and Luna was right when she suggested he might question his abilities as a man. That was a vain thought though. Cho's sexual preference had nothing to do with their relationship. At least that's what he hoped. Then there had been his passionate affair with Ginny. That though had been short lived with the pressures of the impending war against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He'd also courted a Quidditch player called Mandy Perkins. It had been a long and sweet relationship, but with work they hardly saw one another and had drifted apart. This was followed by a few more encounters. Every one of his relationships had lasted longer than two months and Harry prided himself on being an old fashioned man. One night stands were not his style. He'd always respected women too much for that.

Now, though, he was not so certain of anything.

It had all begun when he'd seen her in the office, innocently filing away crimes without a second thought. His initial thought had been to question her presence. Was she here to keep tabs on him? Harry's methods of capturing dangerous criminals were antiquated. Having lived through the second coming of evil, Harry had lost his faith in magic. He watched as magic-dependent wizards had fallen due to their trust in it. He'd watched people lose their ability for common sense because they believed they could cure everything with a wave of their wand. So he'd sworn not to let himself be ruled by his wand and to use his head whenever possible. The Ministry however looked upon his methods with great suspicion. They didn't like Muggle methods being integrated into Harry's work. An example of this was the fact that Harry had all his information duplicated and hidden in various Muggle places. He had files in Covent Garden and an oil rig off the coast of Aberdeen. This way he would always have a backup plan.

His suspicions had only grown when it was revealed that this stunning new secretary had a history of duplicity. Dumbledore's Army had suffered when Marietta had betrayed them. In hindsight their revenge had been unfair on a young, impressionable girl. How was she to know the ultimate consequences of her actions? They had scarred her for life. When she'd realised who he was the atmosphere between them had become visibly tense. She'd carried on working, mumbling to herself about being mislead by the Ministry, and he knew that she couldn't have been sent to spy on him. Marietta hadn't even realised who he was before he told her. That was one of the good things about staying out of the press; your enemies didn't recognise you as much as they used to.

Marietta had not backed out on the job however. Harry had been surprised to see that she had more staying power than he'd expected from her. It was almost as if she was trying to prove a point. Every time he came into the office everything was shipshape and clean. The filing cabinets had never been so organised. On a good day she'd have finished all her usual duties by lunchtime. Instead of slacking off she'd take out a file and start memorising faces until the end of the day. They hardly spoke but he appreciated her effort.

Eventually there had come a case which involved the apprehension of a suspected Death Eater who had been terrorising the north east coast of Scotland. Harry had almost forgotten his P.A. as he prepared himself for the capture of Jimmy "Hook" Jingo.

'What are you doing?' Marietta's voice was harsh in the silence of the office. 'I only finished tidying that file yesterday.'

Harry glanced up at her from where he was crouched beside the filing cabinet. 'I need the case file on Hook.'

'That's nice,' she said with an edge of sarcasm to her voice. 'Maybe if you asked me instead of wrecking a good two hours work, you'd be able to find it much quicker. After all isn't that what I'm here for?'

'Okay,' he said in a resigned tone. 'Where is the file on Jimmy "Hook" Jingo, please?'

'Third drawer down. Towards the back.'

A frustration he hadn't felt for a long time had swelled up within him. Why did she have to be so bloody difficult? She had spoken to him as if he were incapable of finding one of his own files, in his own office! It was infuriating trying to be polite to a woman who so obviously didn't appreciate it. Maybe that was why he was in the trouble he was in now. Not many people irked him like she did.

'So what do you want me to take with me?'

'What?' he replied irritably.

'Mr Potter,' she said in a clipped manner. 'You told me when I started working here that I was expected to attend apprehensions. In fact you stressed the point significantly. Therefore I have prepared myself for such an occurrence, but surely you can't expect me to know everything you're going to require. Therefore I am asking you what you need me to bring.'

Yet again Harry felt like he was being told off like some naughty child. 'Right. The file will suffice, thank you.'

Marietta moved across the room and scooped up the file from his desk. She was wearing a mid-length skirt, knee high boots and a tight blue jumper. Harry viewed her critically, making it evident that he didn't approve in her taste in dress for apprehensions. This was rewarded with a cold glare.

'Would you prefer I went naked?' she asked coolly.

'I'm sure that would be an appropriate distraction,' he answered with equal chill. 'Next time I advise you wear more practical clothing to work. Now are you ready to disapparate?'

Apprehension was not only dangerous but also time consuming. Harry had always found that the worst part of the job was simply waiting. There had been reports that Hook, as he was known throughout the Wizarding world, had been spotted just outside Manchester where his daughter lived. He was a notorious villain so called due to his hooked hand. The myth was that Voldemort had been so jealous of Hook's abilities as a wizard that he'd removed his wand hand in punishment. Of course this had made Hook a very bitter and twisted crook. His biggest skill was killing people with the most harmless charms. They were difficult to trace and he knew it. However sometimes he had to break cover, and this was one of those occasions. Harry knew he'd go back to see his daughter eventually, all he had to do was wait.

Marietta had not been impressed to say the least. Having had his warnings about her choice of clothing ignored, Harry couldn't help but feel smug as she shivered in the cold night air. They were crouched behind a bush doing surveillance on the bungalow Hook's daughter resided in and Marietta's skirt was not sufficient in keeping her warm. Although Harry was reticent to show any signs of humility towards her, he had offered her his coat. She refused stiffly.

'No thank you. I'm perfectly fine.'

Harry snorted softly. 'You look it.'

Marietta scowled at him and clutched her files to her chest in an attempt to keep warm. 'How much longer do we have to stay here! Can't you just go in there and bloody arrest him?'

'I should have known you'd have had a better plan,' Harry muttered sarcastically. 'Here's a lesson for you: never fight someone on their ground. They know it better than you and that means they have the upper hand. Out here we have a better chance of capturing him without getting hurt.'

Another half an hour had passed and there had still been no sign of Hook. Harry had begun to grow impatient, looking at his watch every other minute and shuffling about in discomfort. Of course Marietta had taken great delight in watching him squirm, which had wound him up even further. Her close proximity to him was making him nervous. Even though he knew he should be concentrating on the house he couldn't stop thinking about her legs and how they would feel. With each sexual thought he felt ashamed. Barring her physical attributes Marietta was a witch - not literally, but metaphorically. He had the feeling that she would take great pleasure in torturing him. Yet he still couldn't control his wandering mind…

'We've been here for almost three hours,' Marietta complained, stretching one slender leg out in front of her. 'I've got a meeting at the Ministry tomorrow morning and I don't want to be tired.'

'What's the meeting about?' Harry asked unable to curb his curiosity. 'Reallocation?'

'No,' she said with a sneer. 'I don't know what it's about. They want to talk about my progress I assume.'

Harry glanced down at the floor and wondered whether they were going to quiz her on his progress. 'Yes well, I feel that bringing Hook in may be slightly more important. After all he is a killer.'

Marietta huffed impatiently and threw the file on the floor. 'You're insufferable.'

'Ditto.'

He had felt her glare burning into him but he didn't care. It was too cold and damp to care about office relationships. Suddenly he had been shaken from his thoughts by a figure moving across the garden and to the front door. Looking to his left he realised that it was Marietta.

Of all the stupid things to do! She had been so impatient that she had gone to get a closer look. He had watched in horror as she'd straightened up her little skirt and boldly knocked on the door. A woman, later identified as Hook's daughter Lucinda, had opened the door with a guarded face. The two women talked and eventually Lucinda had let Marietta into the house. Harry had been furious. How dare she compromise the apprehension like this?

He had worked quickly, stuffing all the files and weapons into the beaten up backpack and shoving them under the roots of the bush he was hiding behind. Delving into his pocket he pulled out a small vial. Harry had taken it upon himself to always carry Polyjuice potion with him for times of emergency. On the bottle was written the name Sidney Gherkin. Sidney worked in the telecommunications sect of the Ministry and had been very willing to lend Harry some of his hair. Now Sidney would have to work his magic.

Walking across the garden Harry could feel the familiar pounding of his heart against his chest. It was this uncertainty that made the job so thrilling; what made him return even through the bad times. Steeling himself with a deep breath he pounded on the door angrily.

After a couple of seconds the door opened. The same cautious woman stood before him, a quizzical look on her face. Harry adopted his most angry face and pushed past her. 'Where is she! Where's my whore of a wife? I know she's in here!'

Across the small room Marietta was placidly sitting on an overstuffed couch, a Muggle phone in her hand. Harry gave her a stern look, and took charge quickly before she blew his cover. 'I knew it! You've been cheating on me, haven't you?' he said in an angry nasal voice, casting a dubious gaze at Lucinda. 'And with a woman too!'

Lucinda folded her arms across her chest and gave them both a tight look. 'I thought you said your car had broken down?'

Marietta placed the phone down on the stand and rose from her seat. Looking into his eyes she took a firm step towards him. 'I told you I had to come out this way to meet a client, Boris,' she sneered. 'I can't believe you followed me, you ignorant little prick of a man.'

'Well it's a good job I punctured that tyre before you left the house isn't it?' Harry ran a hand through Sidney's long black hair and sniffed his spotty nose. 'I should have trusted mother when she said not to trust attractive young women who want to marry me!'

'Do you want me to call the police?' Lucinda directed at Marietta, obviously believing the scene that was unfolding.

'Stay out of this,' Harry snapped. 'I can't believe you ran off without telling me. When we get home tonight there's going to be hell to pay…'

'Like I would come home with you after you've embarrassed me in front of a complete stranger!' she screamed at him. 'I told you I was tired of waiting around. I needed some action. It isn't my fault your so crap in bed. Call yourself a real man! Ha! Your mother is more masculine then you!'

'Don't bring mother into this,' Harry clenched his fists and shook one at her.

Marietta simply laughed and scooped her bag up from the floor. 'I'm leaving you Boris.'

'You can't…' he grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against his chest. 'I can prove I'm a real man. I'll do anything you want, just come home with me now. Now.'

'Boris, nothing you could do would prove to me you were anything more than an overgrown weed,' Marietta gave him a tight smile and Harry loosened his grip slightly. 'Now let go of me and get out of here before you make even more of a fool of yourself.'

Something about Marietta's scathing manner was breaking through Harry's resolve. Maybe it was the fact that she'd decided to play it out that she hated him, maybe it was the fact that she was questioning his manhood, but something snapped. Suddenly he forgot all about Lucinda and capturing Hook. He wanted to get even with her.

'Marietta,' he murmured in a low warning. 'Don't push me.'

'Or what?'

Harry smiled slightly, bent down and kissed her hard on the mouth. Almost instantly she began to reciprocate, savagely drawing his bottom lip into her mouth and biting gently. It was a battle of a kiss, both struggling to remain dominate and all the while Lucinda watched on with a faint feeling of disgust. Soon Marietta was pulling back forcibly. Getting her balance and her breath, she looked at him furiously, balled up her fist and punched him square in the face. Harry winced as her punch hit home and clutched at his face as she fled from the house.

'Women,' Harry muttered to himself. 'Sorry for…well you know…'

'That's fine,' Lucinda said with a bemused expression. 'I hope not to see either of you again however. If I do I'll be calling the police.'

Harry had taken the hint and left before she lived up to her promise. Although she was a Muggle, she was not stupid and would soon realise that they were both there for a reason. Unfortunately there had been no sign of Hook and with the foolishness of Marietta he would have to abort the stakeout for the night. All that had left was to berate Marietta on her stupid behaviour.

Running out into the garden, Harry had blinked hard to try and adjust to the darkness. Quickly he had retrieved his backpack and looked for Marietta on the road. It hadn't taken him long to find her.

Leant up against a wall Marietta was breathing hard, her breath frozen in the night air. Her hand clutched her stomach and she appeared to be talking to herself angrily. As he approached he could see that she had a murderous look on her face. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

'What did you think you were doing?' he shouted as he neared her.

'Me! What about you? In which part of my contract does it say you have the right to pretend I'm your unfaithful wife?' she rubbed her forehead and glared at him. 'That kiss was sexual harassment I'll have you know.'

'You put us in danger by going into that house,' Harry said firmly, trying to remain calm and rational. 'It hardly seems relevant that I kissed you. It was a matter of authenticity.'

'Yeah, right,' she muttered. 'If you must know I went in there because I thought it would be more effective then sitting out here freezing our arses off. And I was right. Hook isn't there.'

'And you know this how?'

'Women's intuition.'

'Great. Bloody fantastic.'

Marietta pushed back from the wall and rounded on him. 'Back off Potter or I'll be forced to report you.'

'For what Marietta? Kissing you?'

She gave a nasty smile and prodded him in the chest. 'I know all about your business Potter. I know that the Ministry are very interested in your methods. I'm sure they'd love to hear all about this little fiasco.'

'You wouldn't…' Harry started.

'Oh wouldn't I? We both know that I am perfectly capable of doing so,' she prodded him again and gave a snort of laughter. 'You've brought this upon yourself.'

Grabbing her hand Harry looked at her hard. Roughly he pushed her back against the wall and trapped her with his body. Both remained silent and staring, each taunting the other. Marietta wriggled out of his grasp and shoved him in the chest, but he didn't move. Instead he leant in, pinning her with his weight, and bent to whisper in her ear. 'What do you want from me Marietta?' His hand rested on her hip and he could feel her shudder under his touch. Pushing at the material of her jumper he slid his hand under her clothing, stroking the soft skin gently. 'Marietta,' he whispered again, 'why are you so angry?'

'Harry…' she murmured closing her eyes. He could feel her hands circling his waist and pulling him close. 'Take me home.'

It was needless to say that Harry had a restless night. One request from Marietta and he became putty in her hand. They'd soon made it to Harry's cramped flat. She ripped away his clothing while he kissed her so passionately he was running out of air. Marietta was an impatient lover unable to wait until they reached the bedroom. Once they had finished their love making, they had lain on Harry's wooden floor out of breath and not touching. Harry was cold with sweat as he watched Marietta get up, dress and leave.

Not a word had been spoken between them since.