Chapter 11

The day was sunny and cold, and Hermione walked outside in the garden. As of yet, she hadn't figured out what to do with herself during the days when Marcus didn't need her to upset Malfoy in some way.

Their conversation the other night had left her uneasy. Draco wasn't giving up, and she still hadn't gotten much sense of what it was he wanted from her. The side effect of this had been that he was even more motivated now because of Flint's baiting. Not that she thought Malfoy would simply forget about her, or maybe he would have if she'd remained out of sight. Like a sleeping dog that just went back to sleep.

There seemed not to be anyone else in this house. At times, she'd thought she'd heard someone else here, but now it was utterly quiet. She wasn't even sure if Marcus was there. Looking back at the house, she didn't see a single person in the windows.

The servants were there in the basement, but they didn't come upstairs unless they were asked to. The only time she saw other people was during mealtimes when she was served.

Where was his family? His parents weren't dead, but then she didn't know much about them. In all honesty, she knew very little about Flint, even as she'd gone to school with him for a few years. Their paths had never crossed, and he was never someone she would engage with. In fact, he was probably one of the people who she'd avoid if she saw him coming, and he'd never particularly sought to engage with her or her friends like Malfoy had. Marcus hadn't been interested in them.

There was something singular and focused about him. He cared about the things he wanted, and very little for anything else. That had been her impression anyway. But there was some degree of generosity in him. Obviously, getting to Draco was his objective in all this, but he could show some kindness to her in moments, like taking her sailing. Perhaps he'd simply wanted company. So why not take his friends, or a girlfriend? Surely he had one, even as she'd never seen anyone in that role.

Well, he wasn't interested in her, so he must be involved with someone.

A noise brought her attention back to the house and she saw him emerge out of one of the doors, which she believed came from a study. He lit a cigarette and raked his finger through his hair.

What worries did he have? Couldn't be too much if he spent his time plotting against Malfoy.

Looking around, he spotted her and shifted his head slightly. Hermione didn't feel like continuing walking now that she was being observed, so she returned to the house and the veranda where he was. He watched her approach.

"It's cold," he said. "You need a better coat."

"It does the job." It was her old coat she'd initially been arrested in. It was worse for wear, but it still kept her warm. A bit threadbare in places. Much of it from the cleaning she'd had to do to it to get the smell of detainment from it.

"I'll get you a new one. Come have a drink," he said and stubbed out his cigarette.

The study was warm when she stepped inside. A fire crackled in the hearth of the wood-paneled room. It was a comfortable space. "Is this where you spend your days?"

"Sometimes," he said and walked over to the bar, where he poured brown liquid into two tumblers. It wasn't first thing in the morning, but it felt a little early for a drink. Still, she didn't argue. More, she was curious what he wanted.

He sat down by the fire and there was another chair across from him where he put her drink down on the armrest. Moving over, she took it and sat down. It stung as she took a sip, and the liquid filled her senses.

"What did Malfoy say to you?"

"Just that he wasn't going to stop."

Marcus smiled as if that was funny. "He's not coping with the transition."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"The person he was during the war." Fearsome, Hermione recalled. Yes, he'd changed from the person he'd known in school when she'd largely been dismissive of him. During the war, no one could afford to dismiss him. He'd been a Deatheater for one. Or maybe he still was. She wasn't sure how they regarded themselves now. "And now, Lucius Malfoy is quite happy to put that little sordid episode behind them. Draco isn't… adjusting."

"You know him well. Aren't you friends?"

"We're Slytherins. We don't really have friends. Have you not noticed?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment. Granted, she didn't really have any friends either at the moment, but she couldn't imagine having grown up without hers. "Why do you do this to yourselves?"

Now he chuckled. "Needing others is a sign of weakness."

"Do you really believe that?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I think needing others is, but wanting is a different thing. If you need someone, they have power over you."

"That's what trust is for."

"Do you trust me?"

Of course not. She didn't say it, but her silence was answer enough. "Would you like me to?"

"I already have power over you."

"Power isn't trust. It isn't love. It isn't anything."

"I believe you," was all he said and took a swig of his drink. It wasn't an answer she'd expected. "But power is easy and love is hard, and if done right, they look very similar."

"There's a world apart."

"Not to the desperate."

What was he saying? Was he talking about himself? Or Malfoy? "I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." He was silent for a moment. "You give freely. You'll love the person you choose."

"Yes."

"That's a rare commodity."

No, it wasn't, she wanted to say. But thinking back, the Slytherin history wasn't filled with great love stories. Relationship wise, it was filled with greatly beneficial matches. A Slytherin marriage wasn't a celebration of love, it was a celebration of alignment of interests and power.

"Did you know my other tried to have my father killed?" he said.

"No, I didn't." She was shocked. How had she not known this? Then again, Slytherins didn't publicize their dirty laundry.

"His detriment started to outweigh his benefit. And I think she was bored."

"Bored?"

"Love has never been a feature in my parent's relationship. It is not done. It isn't important. But you. You don't care about any of it. The houses, the riches. You want something I can't have."

"You can choose something else."

"Can I?" he said. "You really don't understand Slytherin society. If I could, maybe I would just choose to marry you."

The statement surprised and shocked her. "You don't even like me."

"That is kind of irrelevant. We consider what we want and take it. If, say, I wanted a wife who'd love her husband, I would choose you. Loving the person you are with is inherent to who you are."

"That's not true. That's not how it works."

"Doesn't it? Are you saying you couldn't grow to love me?"

"I am saying it isn't as simple as that."

"What about if I loved you back?"

"This isn't…," she started. Not often was she talked in circles, but he was managing. It was actually quite impressive, and also very Slytherin. "What exactly are you saying?"

"All I'm saying is that if I kept you locked in this house, and pined for you, you couldn't help but respond."

"Like I said, it's not that simple."

"Should we try?" he said with a smile.

"No."

"I think I just won that argument."

"That's not… You're actually quite infuriating."

It was difficult to pinpoint what was going on his head right then. His eyes kept his secrets. But as she was starting to get to know him better, she was finding a much more complex character than she'd expected.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"What? No."

"Just checking. Come. Let's go eat." Standing up, he reached his hand to her. For a moment, she wondered if she should refuse to take it, but she was kind of making a point for him if she refused, so she took it. It was warm and firm, and it was a very long time since she'd held someone's hand.

As they walked to the dining room, she again wondered about him. What did he want from her? Before, it had been just about Draco, and Marcus' interest in her was otherwise nonexistent, but things were changing. And this discussion they'd just had left her a little disturbed. Did this mean that she'd been on his mind? Had he been thinking about this stuff—about her falling in love with him? Is that something he wanted? He said it was something he couldn't have. At least in a wife.

Is this why he hadn't forced anything on her? Because he wanted her to choose him? Throughout, she'd assumed he simply was uninterested in her. Disgusted by her, even.

It also felt like the pressure on her just ratcheted up higher. Or he was toying with her for just this effect. It wouldn't be out of character for a Slytherin. He hadn't admitted to anything of the sort, just posed questions and insinuations within them. If his aim had been to leave her on edge with nothing but questions, he'd been very successful.