A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience, faves and reviews. We're so glad you're enjoying this. I hope you like this chapter because we had a lot of fun writing it. Let us know what you think!
Chapter 9: Many Happy Returns
An hour later, the cards are spread on the table before them. Hermione does not remember the name of the game that they are playing, but it was simple enough to learn. At least to her. Hermione had always been quick though, especially with card games. It was all a matter of numbers. She was good with those.
Sirius had tried to teach the Weasley kids and her poker during the summer before her fifth year. Ron hated it. Ginny was always determined to win and Fred and George cheated as outrageously as possible. It didn't matter. Once she got the hang of it and learned the rules, she won nearly every hand. Of course, the games quickly ended once Mrs. Weasley realized exactly what Sirius was teaching them. He played off the woman's concerns, joking to Hermione that he would take the three of them to Vegas when they were of age. It never happened.
Despite the fact that Kirigan had been in a formidable mood when she first entered, the air was no longer oppressive. She was used to having to draw men out of their moods. It is why she always found it hilarious when her boys called her emotional. Out of the three of them, she was the least likely to react emotionally.
"Your draw," the General says before taking another sip of his drink. She doesn't know how many either of them have had but it's enough that she feels great. Magic buzzes across her skin as the wards still hold.
"Is this the only card game you know?"
She stares at her cards for a moment before moving one of the ones on the table into the position and then dropping a card where it used to be. "No, my grandfather taught me several and my best friend's godfather taught me the rest. I know about a dozen, I suppose."
"Did you play often with your friends at school?" he asks, glancing again at his cards. "I know betting on such things is a popular pastime for soldiers and students alike."
"Not often. After the boys realized how good I was they could rarely be persuaded to take their chances with their sweets."
"I can't say I'm pleased with my losses there either." He looks forlornly at the bigger pile of sweets on her side of the table and she tries not to smile.
"To add insult to injury, I don't even like sweets for the most part. My parents rarely let me have them as a child and I never developed a taste for them. Dentists," she says with a shrug that's a touch too exaggerated.
Kirigan stares at the move she made. The expression on his face is one of puzzlement and concentration. It's enough to send Hermione into giggles that she tries to stop. She fails, especially when Kirigan looks up at her incredulously.
She holds onto the arm of the chair as if to make sure she doesn't fall as the room sways with her laughter. He's always so in control of his expressions that the look is too much.
He does not look impressed with her response and it only makes her laugh harder.
"I'm sorry," she says with a wave. She keeps giggling though as he raises his eyebrows at her.
His expression cracks and he finally starts to smile as he watches her. "No need to apologize. I'm sure this is a new perspective on the Black General for most."
"Are your Grisha not often graced with their commanding officer's presence for a friendly drink and a game?"
"They are not. If I'm not busy with war dispatches, then I have reports from my spies about refugees and enemy movements, letters to write to keep our funds and supplies topped up, and logistics to approve for the Little Palace. My desk is never cleared."
She watches him for a moment, curious to see if he'll reveal more. "Then what do you do for fun or to relax and let your mind rest? Any hobbies or guilty pleasures? Macrame, football, gossiping with Sofie?" she teases the last bit, trying to relieve any tension the rest of her words might bring.
"I make it a point to never feel guilty about anything that gives me pleasure." His eyes meet hers. They're dark and alarmingly direct in their intensity. How long has it been since she's seen eyes like these? "and I'm a busy man who barely makes time to eat or sleep. My time is not my own."
"Then who do you tell about your day?" she asks. "When things go terribly wrong, or exactly right? Don't you have someone to shoulder your secrets and worries with?"
"No." He looks away from her at that, staring over into the fire.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. It's clearly a sore spot and she's reminded of Harry in fifth year. "I didn't mean to drive the point home. You always seem very composed and self-sufficient, but you also sound like the loneliest man on Earth."
He snorts softly, before looking back at her. "You're very perceptive lisitsa, but you certainly do not have a delicate way of making your thoughts or feelings known."
"I leave that sort of thing to the slimy politicians and toadies of the world," she says dryly before she giggles again.
"I think," he pulls her glass away from her. "You've had enough."
"You've had enough," she retorts back, leaning far over the table to take her glass back to refill it. "It's still my birthday month and I'm due to celebrate how I like!" She nearly misses her chair sitting back down. It's not entirely true but he doesn't need to know that.
"I...I am not the one...falling out of my chair." He pauses as he says it, as if trying to maintain the illusion that he is as drunk as she is pretending to be.
"I am not falling," she says indignantly. She makes a show of trying to sit up properly. "The room is simply...on its way upside down."
He looks around them for a moment as if to make sure she is wrong. "It's not."
"It might be," she argues back, before winking at him, breaking the illusion of her intoxication. "I can make it if you want."
He looks a little ill at the suggestion. "Please refrain."
She tries to hold back her smile. "It's a simple spell. Well, not simple but simple for me."
"Is it simple?" he asks dryly. She throws one of the cards at him automatically.
He lifts a hand to block it only to look stunned when it actually hits him in the face. It's enough to send Hermione into laughter once again.
When she finally gets a hold of herself again, she grabs the bottle and pours him another drink. She takes a sip and leans back in the chair. She feels warm and welcome, even though she remembers why she suggested they drink in the first place. She just has to wait.
They sit in silence, cards lay forgotten as they drink. It's strangely comfortable. Despite everything they have argued against each other since they've met, she does not feel concerned about her safety or her place. Not now.
"May I…" he stops whatever he is about to say. She doesn't press. If he's anything like Harry, he'll express himself soon enough. Instead, she stares into the fire across the room. One form of divination involves reading the flames, staring until you see some sign in them. She used that just to give herself time to think, to figure out what people wanted to hear from her when she was disposing them of their money. It was a better method than staring into a glass ball. At least in her opinion.
"What do you normally do to celebrate your birthday?"
The question takes her by surprise. It isn't what she's expecting. His voice is quiet and he does not look at her. He is staring off into the fire and she can't help but wonder if he expects her to answer or not. She takes a moment to think before she responds.
"I don't. I used to when I was a child." She thinks back on the memories. They're bittersweet now. She's the only one who has them, who can remember the way her dad would smile as he offered her his arm, and how her mom would offer her perfume as though Hermione was older than she was. "Before Hogwarts, my father would bring home flowers just for me on my birthday. My parents would take me to a museum or a show and a nice dinner." She gives him a small smile. "As I got older, I was away at school during September and the war was getting started...it was just suddenly much less important. I had other things to worry about."
Kirigan does not respond. He nods slightly but he is lost in thought at her answer. She tries not to roll her eyes at his brooding.
"You certainly are a depressing git after a few drinks, aren't you?" That makes him look up. She knew it would. "Come on, can't wallow in our own misery all night. Your turn."
Kirigan loses the game because Hermione rigs it. He seemingly pouts at the fact until she's leaning across the table, collecting her spoils. He smirks at her. "Ms. Granger, this has to be the most I have ever enjoyed losing."
She glances up to see his eyes trailing down from her head to the table. She can't stop the heat rising to her cheeks but she smiles regardless. "Enjoying the view?"
"Immensely."
It makes her laugh again. The confidence reminds her of Viktor. He was self-assured as well.
The General pushes back from the table and stands. "Thank you for allowing me to be part of your birthday celebration. Be so kind as to ask the oprichnik outside to send for Ivan," he says before he heads into the other room. She rises to her feet and peeks in just enough to see him begin to remove his kefta. The man is gorgeous, but she moves away.
"Ivan it is." She has no idea where to find the man but she is the believed sun summoner. Someone will help her.
She leaves the General's suite with her pockets full of his sugary treats and tries to find her way back to her room. The drink finally catches up to her the minute she stops imbibing and starts moving. She keeps one hand on the wall as she walks, careful not to disrupt anyone.
"Do you need assistance, Miss?"
She turns to look at one of the Grisha staring at her in confusion. She must look a sight. It would be no surprise if her hair is more unruly than before. It also was after drinking or after a large spell.
"Can you find me Ivan? Please?" She pauses for a second before she realizes something. "Do you know Ivan?"
The person in front of her looks more than a little amused at the thought. "I do. Will you remain here or do you need assistance to your rooms?"
She'd like to lie down if she's honest with herself. Sleep sounds wonderful. "I'll be fine on my own. Send him to the General's rooms, please. He requested him." That should get them moving faster.
It doesn't take long to reach her rooms. She passes through her wards easily and she closes the door. After washing her face and quickly drinking two glasses of water, she collapses on the bed and is asleep before she can even consider the ramifications of this shared evening.
[tbc]
