Chapter Nine

Two weeks had passed since Pavarti's article and for all intents and purposes, Hermione was still Ron's girlfriend. It hadn't been for a lack of trying but rather that he had mysteriously been silent and absent from her life. It was something she hadn't realized had become their norm since her graduation until she was trying to get ahold of him. After the photo had run in the paper she thought for sure he was going to try barging through Viktor's floo or show up yelling obscenities at his front door. She had been so sure of it that she had floo-called Barney to be absolutely sure that Ron was blocked from passing through security without asking her first. She had taken it a step further upon recalling Ron's almost pathological need for an audience whenever he got the urge to yell at her and requested that should he show up, would the kind head of security please turn him away from the compound all together. It was bad enough that her personal life was once again going to be the subject of speculation across Wizarding Britain, she didn't need him making a scene at her place of work too.

However, each of her numerous attempts at contact had gone unanswered. Fire-calls wouldn't pass through, letters went without return, even the voice messages carried by her Patronus went without response. The behavior was so unlike Ron that she had become well and truly worried about him. Even Witch Weekly and the Prophet had nothing to report about his comings and goings. She had checked twice with Pansy who routinely devoured the gossip sections in the name of looking for potential new clients. What it really was, was that reading the gossip rags was her guilty pleasure and she just occasionally stumbled upon new clients for the public relations branch of her and Narcissa's business. Then when she had met with her, Harry, Draco, and Theo in London for their biweekly dinner, she had scoured the pages herself. Confirming his tabloid absence, she made a reluctant Harry promise that he would reach out to his auror contacts that were currently in the field and ask if they had heard anything of note on him.

In fact the only hot-headed Weasley she had heard from was Mrs. Weasley. The woman - who she had thought would be her mother-in-law one day - had swiftly sent her a letter the morning of the photo spread, chastising her for everything under the sun. It was as though a dam that had been holding back the last year of events had been broken and nothing was off limits in light of the photograph. She had criticized everything from her specialization - a single witch has no business working with that many wizards, naked wizards - to the team that she was employed by - how could she show so little care for Ron as to take a job with his team's league rival? Surely no amount of money was worth disrespecting her boyfriend like that. Then came the commentary on her current living arrangements - why couldn't she just leave Krum alone? First Harry and now Ron. What about her reputations and morals? Or had they completely abandoned her once again?

Then as if that wasn't enough, Molly had closed off her letter with the most horrifying and angering of ideas. According to her, it was time for Hermione and Ron to put away this silly nonsense and move past his little indiscretion because it wasn't as if they were married or had even been engaged when it happened. And it wouldn't have happened in the first place if she had been taking proper care of her relationship and not spending so much time focusing on her program.Apparently she felt it was long past time that they finally got married and the sooner the better before she could ruin herself any further. And with a cowardly Slytherin who three years ago wouldn't have been caught dead even holding a door open for her. First Harry with the Parkinson girl who tried to turn him over to Voldemort and now her with Marcus Flint who according to the Prophet held little more intelligence than a troll-like brute, she had written. What happened to the smart witch she was before falling in with the likes of Nott and Malfoy? And where had her self-respect gone, that she was willing to lose a respectable wizard like Ron to the passing fancy of a bigoted son of a Death Eater?

After reading the words once, then twice, then a third time to be sure she hadn't spontaneously lost her reading comprehension, she had incinerated the letter in a fit of rage. Each read through of the woman's attack on her character, her dismissal of Ron's cheating, and her cruel, untrue words about a wizard she didn't even know, one who was more respectable than her son could ever hope to be, had her blood boiling with fury and her hair sparking with unchecked magic for the first time outside of a nightmare in years. Molly's idea on what constituted self-respecting witches and upstanding wizards were so warped and antiquated for a supposedly progressive witch - she had even called attention to the hideous markings that marred Flint's body - that she was still baffled by where the woman got her ideas or how she justified them. It left her going into random rants to whoever she was with whenever another line of the letter crossed her mind, particularly the things she had said about Marcus. The unwarranted attacks on his person made her angrier than anything Molly or the papers could say about her.

Even still, she couldn't shake the worry for Ron as she got ready to go on her morning run. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach about what his absence meant. So as she headed down the stairs, she stopped at the fireplace to try floo-calling his Chudley loft for the umteenth time.

Their romantic relationship may have been disastrous from the word go and he may have been a fair weather friend to her and Harry both - his lowest point having been when he left them in the Forest of Dean, an action that to this day Harry had been unable to forgive after the war had ended - but once upon a time she had loved him. And even though she had come to realize that past love should have remained platonic and that she shouldn't have spent all these years forcing something to work that wasn't meant to be, she still wanted him to be happy and have a fulfilled life. She wanted to know that he was alive and well and hadn't been killed in some rogue attack by the few followers of Voldemort that were still unaccounted for.

Getting to her hands and knees, she threw in a pinch of powder and stuck her head through the flames calling out for him. She yelled for his loft and his name several times but as predicted, her requests to speak with him went unanswered only serving to worry her further. Pulling out, she grabbed the quill and notepad that she had started keeping by the floo and penned yet another letter to toss through the fireplace despite knowing full well that it would just sit in the hearth unopened. Once the green flames had died down, she closed the floo line back up so only calls could pass through and headed out the glass doors to the back deck.

Going through her pre-run stretches, Hermione filtered her mind and tucked away the worry she felt over Ron's safety. His mother hadn't seemed too concerned about him the times she had asked after him, so she knew she had to have been over reacting to his absence. For all she knew his silence was merely some improved toxic and manipulative game he was using on her as he had been prone to do when they would argue both as friends and as a couple. It was just so unlike him though to have not made a scene in light of the story in the Prophet. And wasn't that just ironic? She was worried because for once he hadn't gone off the deep end of rage and made a spectacle of them, something that ordinarily she would have been thankful for.

Checking the laces on her shoes as she finished up, she looked around the area. Finding it devoid of people, she disapperated from the deck and landed at the disillusioned receiving point for Marcus's home. Casting a quick revealing spell and finding no one to be lurking in the area - something that instantly became habit after that picture - she walked up the stairs of his large, grey shingled beach house and rapped her knuckles on the smokey blue painted door that was the unofficial third color of the Falcons.

Hearing the scurry of dog nails trying to get traction on hardwood floors and Marcus scolding said dog about needing to have patience, she started to laugh. It had been the same routine with them every morning since he had mentioned that Darya was more rambunctious than usual without their morning swims to expel her energy. Dropping to a squat as the door opened up, she caught the massive black, Newfoundland who was pushing her big head past Marcus's thigh and the doorway with her lead dangling from her mouth.

Ruffling the fur around her face, Hermione cooed, "Good morning my sweet girl, how are you?" Taking the lead as the dog shoved it into her hand before licking her face, she responded, "Okay, okay no need to get so excited. You know I won't go for my run without you. After all, your daddy is still a lame Pygmy Puff and can't see to your exercise needs himself."

"Yeah, someone should really get after the team's healer," he quipped. "Don't know how Saint Mungo's saw fit to give her a license. Bloody crack - hey!" he exclaimed, jumping to the side as she went to pinch him a second time.

Hooking Darya's fluorescent pink lead to her equally bright but hidden collar, Hermione stood and gave Marcus a faux glare. "You better be nice to me, Flint. Not only is your career in my hands - hands that graduated at the top of their class mind you - but I control your training schedule. It's not too late to put you on two a days now that we are beginning work on conditioning your new muscles."

"Healer Granger, if you wanted to see more of me, all you had to do was ask. I'm more than happy to oblige you. In fact, I insist on it," he flirted with that cocky half smile she loved pulling at his cheek. Bending his considerable height down, he pressed his lips to her waiting forehead as he had taken to doing every morning since the first time and quietly asked, "Have you heard from him?"

Shaking her head as she looked away from his earnest eyes, she answered with annoyance, "No, and I should just throw in the towel and be done with it, with him. He's taken enough of my time already and is only sucking away more, yet I can't. It doesn't feel right to end it like that, with a note tossed through his floo. Putting aside the tumultuous history of our relationship, he was still my friend before anything else and I can't just turn off the concern I have for him or this nagging feeling about what his silence could mean."

Reaching between them, he ran his fingers down her palm and loosely laced them together. With his hand swallowing hers, he assured, "Hermione, you don't have to explain it to me, I understand. And while I don't think he deserves your care and consideration, I know first hand you are too stubborn to give up on what you want, just look at me.

"One of the only two thoughts I had when those bludgers hit me, was that my career was over and yet here I am. I already have more range of motion than most have after six months of recovery from this injury and it's all thanks to that stubbornness." Pulling her closer, he tilted her chin back up so she was looking at him again and said, "Above all, I want you to do this in your own time and in your own way. I don't want you to have any regrets or doubts about me and about us. You don't have to worry; I'm not going anywhere, nor does my attraction to you have an expiration date. And if I have to remind you of that everyday, I will gladly do so until it takes. You may not know this because I defer to you as the expert with everything regarding my injury, but I can be pretty stubborn too when it comes to what I want."

"How do you always have the right words?"

"It's not having the right words, merely being upfront about how I feel. I know what I want will take time and like I've told you, you're worth every effort and minute of waiting that passes."

Bringing their joined hands up to his mouth, he left a lingering kiss on her palm that made her heart flutter and her blood warm each morning since he had begun doing it in addition to kissing her forehead. Then watching for her reaction as he had when he toed across the line to kiss her palm for the first time, he slowly brought his lips to her wrist, making her already active heart begin to race. And when his lips touched her pulse, a short breath left her as her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feel of his mouth along her thin, hyper sensitive skin.

"Is this okay?" He murmured, his warm breath combining with the electrifying, too short kiss to make the hairs along her arm stand on end.

"Yes," she breathed, desperate for another touch as her thighs clenched to relive the sudden ache that had developed in her cunt.

Merlin save Ron, because if he isn't dead or severely injured he will be, she swore internally as the last of her worry for him fled her mind for the time being.

Opening her eyes, she found his own to be dialated as he watched her and traced his thumb over hers. Gently bringing their joined hands back down and closer to her, she kept her gaze focused on him. Mimicking his slow movements to give him an equal opportunity to decide against her actions, she brought their hands the rest of the way to her mouth. Then as his lips parted and his head gave the faintest of nods, she pressed her lips on the inside of his wrist as he had done to her. Feeling his fingers tighten around her own and more heat flood between her thighs, she darted her tongue out and traced it an inch or two up his thick veins, earning a soft groan from his throat in response.

Looking up through her lashes, she murmured, "We should stop."

"We should definitely stop," he agreed, though he pulled her closer, releasing her hand to grasp her bare waist.

Bringing her free hand up to his chest, she traced the swirling lines that made up his tattoo, and countered, "In a minute. We can stop in a minute."

"Sounds perfectly reasonable."

Curing her hand up his pectoral and over his shoulder, she tilted her head back and began to rise up on her toes to help him close the difference in their height. Responding to her opening invitation, Marcus moved his hand to her back and spread his fingers so that they covered almost every part of her spine between the bottom line of her sports bra and the top of her shorts.

Being in his arms, feeling the heat of his chest warm her own, and the expanse of his hand take over her back, she felt the most welcoming combination of desire and being home. And it was insane but as his head lowered and his lips neared hers, she knew this was it. He was it. Everything they still needed to learn about each other and the obstacles that were in their way of being together didn't matter. She wasn't halfway to falling in love with him, she was already there. His gentle manner, his words, and his touch had already secured her heart and it was both terrifying and exciting.

Spurred on by her realization, she surged up with a slight jump, praying her work on him had been thorough enough that she wouldn't hurt him with her weight. His quick reflexes didn't miss a beat of what she was doing either because the second her toes left the porch, his other arm wrapped around her hips and held her to him as he sealed his lips to hers in the softest kiss she had ever experienced.

Though it started off slow and tentative as they hesitantly studied the fit of their mouths together, it wasn't long before it turned passionate and made her body sing with want and need for him. And soon after, the feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest and the twitching of his cock as it began to lengthen between them - grazing against her abdomen as her needy cunt once again clenched with anticipation - had her moaning against his mouth, leaving her open for his tongue to meet hers. The feeling of him caressing and exploring her mouth, had her chasing him as he retreated, reciprocating the same pattern of movements until his fingers pressed into her flesh and he too moaned in response to the sensual sensation.

All too soon though, things between them began to slow down. He gave the inside of her mouth one final flick before closing his lips against hers in a lingering kiss. Not wishing to separate from him, she quickly closed the space between them with another kiss before he could fully pull back, only for him to do the same as she began to retreat. Finally though they separated as Darya whined to alert them to the fact that she was still there and waiting while they subjected her to their display.

Resting her forehead on his chest, Hermione found her breath to be in short supply as she said, "I should get going before she mutinies against us. I'm still trying to buy her love so I can't afford any blemishes on my record."

"No need," he replied, running his fingers along her spine. "She's so infatuated with you that every time you bring her back she acts all depressed and like I'm a bowl of dry kibble."

"Good to know. I don't know what I would do if your baby didn't like me. Especially now that we've done that because I already want to do that again."

"Mmm… So do I."

"But we shouldn't," she said reluctantly, pulling back from him.

Cupping her face, he solemnly replied, "I know."

"I just want you to know that I'm serious about you and about where this could go, where I hope it goes. That's why I want us to go slow, at least for now, and why I'm so adamant about ending things properly. I can't take anyone else speaking ill of you in the press."

"Fuck the press."

"You say that now but you have no idea how bad it can be, Marcus."

"I had half my rib cage shattered, my lung collapse, and my muscles ribboned five weeks ago. I think I can handle whatever drivel Parvati Patil writes about me."

"It's not just one journalist," she stressed. "It's her entire readership, the eternity of Wizarding Britain. Trust me, the public's opinion can change on the drop of a sickle. Once things die down and they aren't digging into you anymore, then we can start."

Pulling her into a hug, he kissed the crown of her head and said, "So long as I still get you, e taku ipo."

You already have me, she thought, winding Darya's lead around her hand. Out loud she simply said, "I'll have your sweet girl back to you in about an hour," as she stepped back from him.

Making her way around the porch of his house and down to the beach, he called after her, "You'll be at the party this afternoon right? Mahuika and Tayn will be there." Rubbing the back of his neck he added, "I may have mentioned you a time or two and now they want to meet you."

"I'll be there," she smiled. "And you'll have your own share of meet and greets to get through as well, though I guess you know most of them already."

"Looking forward to it."

"You say that now but fair warning, we're a bunch that's nosier than a pack of nifflers," she laughingly warned. "So prepare to have your privacy thoroughly invaded."

Waving goodbye to him, she took off in a light jog to warm her and Darya up for their early morning run, the wash of realizing she loved Marcus making her feel as if she was finally running towards something and not away.