Chapter 14

Hermione's orgasm came roaring through her as Marcus ground into her. It was a release of so many pent-up feelings, it stole her breath and thoughts away, leaving a sedate languidity behind. Her body still hummed with spent energy as he pulled away from her.

She didn't regret it. It had felt right, and it had been such a long time since she'd allowed herself to physically feel anything. And at it turned out, he could make her feel very good.

Allowed wasn't perhaps the right word, but the life of a slave didn't involve affection of any kind—and granted, she'd been lucky in her time involving little more than bone-breaking work.

Marcus hadn't pushed. He'd invited her to sate a longing that existed because she was a human being, and because she wanted to be desired. An innate longing nothing could shake.

It was nice. It was lovely. It couldn't have been better, and she didn't regret taking their relationship in this direction. She loved the energy that flowed in her veins and the emotional release that had gone with the physical one. She felt safe with him. As safe as she'd felt since the war had started. In fact, safety hadn't really been a mainstay for her in the wizarding world at all. She'd always been under attack in some form or another. Mostly, it was from Malfoy—the ever-present danger.

"I'm gonna get him," Marcus said, lying beside her with his head resting on his wrist. "You can't just go burn someone else's property."

Hermione shifted to face him. "Don't. Just leave it. Make an official claim for compensation. The Malfoys will pay to replace it."

"He'll deny it."

"I'm not sure he will," she said, but she could tell that he wasn't listening. He was really upset about Malfoy destroying his car. "Look, if you respond, you're doing exactly what he wants you to do." Granting, burning down Marcus' car was childish even for Draco. "He's trying to provoke you."

"We can't just stand by and let him do what he wants. Where's that going to lead? Do you want to live in a society where pissing off the Malfoys means carte blanc for them to retaliate?"

She already did, but she understood what he was saying. Still, she had a bad feeling about this, about where Draco would take it. "It doesn't have to be you," she finally said. "If you want revenge on Malfoy, then be happy."

"I am happy," he said, shifting on his side so he could kiss her.

The sweetness of the kiss suffused her mind. This could be good. It could be just them. Her dreams had involved her in a little cottage out of the way, but there was a possibility it could be them. That would be even better. Them hidden away from the world, just being happy and content.

It did bother her a bit that the urge to fight had gone out of her. It was the betrayal she felt by the broader wizarding society. As they'd fought so little for her, why should she bother fighting for them. All the good ones were gone, so what was the point of pounding her fists against this wall if what was behind it wasn't worth having?

When had she become so completely disillusioned? Maybe it had been a gradual process, or maybe it was the possibility of happiness that made her just want to cut off all the crap she'd dealt with since she was eleven. What was worth having with Harry and the Weasleys gone? They were the ones that had kept her there. That wasn't entirely true. She had so completely bought into herself belonging in the wizard world, she'd never questioned it. But now, even if things went back to the way things had been, would she be able to? Would she be able to forgive all those people turning their backs on her and her kind when she'd needed them?

Maybe Marcus' honesty was better. He was a Slytherin and he didn't really cry to her face about what had happened to her. It felt better than the duplicity of the people who told her how awful it was, but then did nothing. Marcus was out for himself, and he never pretended otherwise.

He rose out of bed and took a sip of his discarded whiskey glass before dressing. He had a nice body, and she didn't mind watching him dress. No, Marcus wasn't going to hide away in a cottage. It wasn't his style, unfortunately. But they could potentially hide away here in luxury. Well, as long as she got to hide away.

"I'm not going to stand for it," he finally said and walked out of the bedroom.

Hermione groaned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Why did men have to have just egos? Nothing good would come from this. Bullheaded ego was what drove Malfoy. Why did he have to do something so stupid and provocative? Because that was his intent, and Marcus was responding to it exactly like Malfoy wanted. Men were so stupid.

Getting out of bed, she pulled on her robe and walked to the window when she heard him outside, pacing along the veranda as he smoked. He was angry, but he would calm down, and she would speak to him then.

Her cheeks were rosy when she sat down in front of the mirror. How things had changed. She was now living in luxury with a man she liked, and she was effectively out of Malfoy's reach. It wasn't a bad change. How long it could go on like this, she wasn't sure, but she was happy for it to go just like this. She and Marcus could be very happy.

Another voice filtered through to her and she shot up to the window to see a woman down on the veranda. By the look of her, it was his mother. What was she doing there? Hermione stepped out of sight so she wasn't noticed. Truthfully, she was a little angry that someone had come to intrude on their bubble. Perhaps that was unrealistic.

The truth was that Marcus was the one who kept this bubble and she had to depend on him to keep it going. It wasn't how she liked it, but it was the reality.

Perhaps that woman was down there right now, urging him to give up this relationship with a slave, a mudblood. Hermione had no control over it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to, as she wanted Marcus to prove he felt this was worth keeping intact.

Any way she cut it, it was still a precarious situation. She had to invest her heart and emotions and this would pay off, or she would have to go back to being cold and alone, and she wasn't sure she could take it anymore. She'd traded on her inner strength for so long, she wasn't sure how much she had left. And that would be when she broke, and they would have won. It was the point of all this, to break her.

But for the first time, she had hope, and that hope rested with Marcus Flint. It could work. They could be happy. It was what they both wanted, and they'd found each other. Malfoy was still trying to tear them apart. This provocation was for that exact purpose. Now she just had to make sure that Flint didn't fall for it. He had to be immune. It was the only way of dealing with Malfoy. As much as Flint hated it, the Malfoys had come out of this war in power. It was clever and underhanded, but that was them all over, use the situation so it aligned with their interests.

With a sigh, she sat down and listened to the woman talking to her son downstair. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and she didn't really want to know. How Marcus' card would fall in all this was still to be revealed. And her heart was on the line. In all fairness, it was more than her heart on the line. The problem was that the alternative outcomes she foresaw were all bad, particularly the one where Malfoy would win—and that was a distinct possibility if Marcus kept responding to his provocations. Malfoy was more shrewd and had more experience, while Marcus had largely sat out during the war.

In a way, the war was still continuing, but on a smaller scale. Between her and Malfoy, it was still winner takes all.

Returning to the bed, she tucked her knees up and closed her eyes, worried that Malfoy wouldn't stop. How far would he go? It was a question she didn't have an answer to. Her hope that he would lose interest and forget about her, but the car thing had her worried. It was an extraordinary step, and that had her worried.

"My mother came," she her Marcus' voice. It woke her from a tense dream, and she didn't know where she was for a moment.

"She's well, I trust," Hermione said when she couldn't think of anything else.

Marcus walked over to her and lay down beside her. "Her typical self."

Hermione wasn't about to enquire what that meant.

"I sent her away," he continued, and the answer pleased her because it suggested he wanted it to be the two of them here. With his hand at the back of her knee, he drew her across him until she straddled him, and then he slowly untied her robe and revealed her nakedness. His eyes languidly traveled across her body as if he was happy with what he saw. She felt his response, and she shrugged the robe off her shoulders. His fingers softly traveled up her thighs and he sighed contentedly.

"Just you and me," she said.

"Yeah."