Chapter Fourteen

From the time they had entered the restaurant and had been ushered to the safety of one of the private dining rooms, Marcus had kept close to Hermione much the way Harry had predicted. Through pre-dinner cocktails as she circulated the room chatting with those she didn't see as regularly, he had remained within reach without seeming as though he were stifling her or trying to hurry her along. He met, or re-met, friend after friend from her social circle and happily engaged in conversation with each of them. He never gave short answers but instead talked passionately, if shyly and modestly, about their quarries and even aided in driving things along with open ended questions of his own, intently listening to their replies. It was as if he was sincerely interested in becoming acquainted with each person in her life and committing them all to memory for future events. And given that he didn't have a disingenuous bone in his body, she believed he truly was that deeply invested in melding their lives together.

Things felt natural with Marcus; easy and secure in a way she didn't often feel with people outside of those closest to her. The fluidity that existed between them in the relaxed Falmouth bubble they lived and worked in, had effortlessly followed them into London. A glance at the name cards on the table was all it took for them to recognize the modification needed to accommodate his left hand dominance to her right. The arrival of the two-bite trio of appetizers saw them rearranging their plates without a lapse in the conversations they were each having with Blaise and Daphne - he placing the strawberry balsamic crostini onto her plate and she moving the prosciutto and mint wrapped melon from hers to his. With the main course, she sectioned off a third of her lemon and pea Alfredo pappardelle for herself, moving the rest to a separate dish for his much larger appetite to finish off for her. He in turn freed a number of the mussels and clams from where they were nestled in their shells throughout his own white wine scampi and placed them on her bread plate for her. And throughout the whole of the multi-course dinner, his hand had rested just above the inside of her right knee, occasionally squeezing her while his attention was held by others with her own hand having found purchase much higher up on his thigh, her fingers reaching inward to continuously caress his firm muscle.

By the time dinner was over and cake had been had, Hermione was well and truly intoxicated. Not just from the cocktail she had sipped prior to dinner, the glasses of wine that had accompanied each course, and the third glass of champagne she had drunk that evening when they had all sung to Draco. The elated befuddlement that filled her mind was one part alcohol induced and three parts caused by Marcus's unwittingly teasing touch. Each squeeze of his calloused palm and absently traced circles along her smooth leg, stoked the cooling fire from their earlier kiss until she was shifting and clenching in her chair, her body heated and knickers wet.

Her inconvenient arousal was further exacerbated when it was time to go. Shrugging into his suit jacket so she was protected against England's chilly early summer evening, his fingers swept along her sensitive neck, freeing her hair. Lost in the erotically innocent touch and him standing closer than was decent, she gasped at the feeling of his lips kissing her bare shoulder before covering her the rest of the way. Opening her neck to seek more of his touch, she mewled as his nose trailed along her tendon until his lips reached her jaw where he left an open mouthed kiss, making her shiver.

"So you do know what you've been doing to me," she sighed, leaning further into him as his hands ghosted along her sides.

"You started it," he growled in her ear, the mingled smell of wine and whiskey on his breath filling her nose.

"I did no such thing."

"This dress would beg to differ."

"Between my morning runs and your hydrotherapy, you've seen much more of me."

"This is different," he said, wrapping a long arm beneath her abdomen to keep her close while he closed the remaining gap between them, his hardening cock pressing into her lower back.

Inhibitions lowered, Hermione swayed her hips along his in a languid figure eight as she asked, "Why? Because I've put in more effort than a shower and a five minute sweep of makeup?"

Surprising her with the way he sharply turned her around, Marcus's large hands engulfed her face as he cupped her cheeks and directed her eyes up to him. "No e taku ipo," he emphasized. "It's different because come morning, your illuminating smile, nymph-like eyes, and irresistible body will be greeting every wizard across Britain while they tuck into their porridge and fry ups. Being the selfish bastard that I am, I want to keep the sight of how you look up at me through your lashes to myself."

"You really need to pick up a magazine or two, Flint. Granger has been seen wearing much less than this," Draco interrupted, clapping him on the back while Theo came up behind Hermione and unceremoniously removed Marcus's jacket from her body.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She demanded.

Holding it out to his scowling, former housemate, he answered, "Keeping your secret just that. If you walk out of here wearing his jacket while he has that smug look of possession in his eyes, you two may as well announce to all the world that you're together."

Sighing, she reluctantly agreed, "He's right, the night is only beginning." Rubbing her hands up and down the planes of his dress shirt before lacing her fingers behind his neck, she entreated, "Outside of quidditch, you were almost never in the papers until me and I want to keep it that way. I like the anonymity being with you provides me. Just as you want to keep me for yourself, I want to keep us for myself. We won't know a moment's peace if they find out, especially right now. Please?"

"Is that the only reason?" He asked quietly.

Canting her head to the side as she studied his unusually expressionless face, she asked, "Of course it is. What else could there be?"

After a moment of gazing at her as pensively as she was him, Marcus shook his head and responded, "Nothing, I'm just overthinking it," before kissing her forehead. "I'll meet you at Fallen?"

"Yes," she beamed, feeling the uneasy cloud that had cast itself over them pass. "And be ready to dance and drink all night. Well dance. You're still in recovery and with the draft exhibition happening in three weeks and training camp in six, you're getting cut off at midnight. I refuse to let some upstart think he can take your spot on the team after all the hard work we've put into your healing and rehabilitation.

"Otherwise I'm going to have to go all Tonya Harding on them and as the team's healer that won't look so good."

"Who?"

"She's a muggle who had someone attack her competition by clubbing the girl's knee so she couldn't skate. All so she could get herself a spot on the United States Olympic Team," Harry answered, his eyes already a little glassy from dinner and his lips smudged with Pansy's gloss.

"I wouldn't really," she placated, aggressively wiping Harry's mouth clean.

"I'd believe you more if I hadn't been a personal victim of your violent streak," Draco laughed.

"You had that coming and you know it!"

"Has anyone ever told you, you're a little scary?" Marcus chuckled.

"With alarming regularity," she candidly answered.

"Great, now that we've established that a majority of us are more terrified of Granger than we ever were of the Dark Lord, can we please get to Fallen?" Draco begged. "We have several clubs to hit tonight and an endless amount of celebratory drinking to do because I'm fucking getting married!"

"Whoo!" Hermione cheered, grabbing his and Theo's hands to lead them from the private dining room. Bringing his left hand up to examine as they wove they're way out of the restaurant, she complimented, "White gold band, with a white quartz inlay. You know, it's said to be the master healer of crystals for the way it bolsters the entire system and provides the wearer with an additional energy resource. Very nicely done, Draco."

Slipping his ring off and holding it out for her, Theo proudly said, "Look inside."

"Oh polished obsidian, used to help in emotional processing and compartmentalizing. I'm impressed," she said, handing the ring back. "It's beautiful while also being beneficial in helping you during your shifts and continued specialization at the hospital."

Joining their hands together in front of her, she stepped back and around to Theo's right side, falling into place under his arm. Wrapping her own arm under his jacket and around his back, she snuggled in close and said, "I'm so happy for you two. Although, I really could have lived without the part where my heart fell out of my arse."

"Me and you both," Theo snorted. "He always has to have a bit of a dramatic flare though doesn't he?"

"I'm right here, in case you two suddenly went blind," Draco snapped.

"Did you hear something?" Hermione teased.

"Nothing other than the murmur of other people's conversations."

"Ha, ha." Yanking off his own jacket, Draco opened it up and said, "Here, I don't want that brute of yours to rearrange my fiancé's face if we let you out there without a jacket. Though I'm pretty sure it had more to do with covering you than keeping you warm."

"That possessiveness is rather sexy, isn't it?" She giggled, slipping on the black wool.

"Gods Granger, you really do love him if you of all witches are turned on by that."

Glancing back at where Marcus was with Ades, Cass, and Graham, she gave him a small wave and explained, "It's different with him. It's not about ownership or treating me like some trophy. I'm still free to be my own person. It's as if he's… carving out a spot for himself and reassuring himself of where he stands. He's not trying to assert dominance over me or force his importance in my life above my friends."

"Which is why I'm going to enjoy tonight to the fullest," Theo declared. "There is little doubt in my mind that this is one of my final nights as your staunch guardian. Soon enough I'll be but a mere friend to you again. Because even if they're on their worst behavior, there is nothing the press can do to scare that sappy, lovesick look off his face. Worst bloody Slytherin I've ever seen."

"The Hat should have put him in Hufflepuff," Draco concurred.

Kissing Theo's cheek and then Draco's, Hermione assured, "I will always need you, both of you. I wouldn't be who I am without your friendships. You two showed me it's okay to not be okay and helped glue me back together. And when I start to crack you two are still there rushing in for emergency repairs. I can't ever thank you enough." Dabbing the corners of her eyes and sniffling, she clapped her hands together and announced, "Okay, let's get back out there and get it over with. With any luck they'll be too busy scrambling over your engagement for anything else."

"One can hope but just in case…" Draco said trailing off as he scanned the restaurant. "There he is. Potter! Let's go!" He yelled. "Pans will wring my neck if I let anything happen to her delicate Chosen One tonight."

"Oh that's brilliant," she quipped. "Put the King of Debauchery in charge of keeping her husband's name out of the papers."

"You two go ahead; I'm going to corral, Mr. Savior of Our World."

Pushing through the turnstile door, Hermione and Theo were greeted by a swarm of photographers and reporters who had been laying in wait. Their yelled questions and flashing bulbs quickly disoriented her, making her eyes pinch as she raised a hand up in an attempt to block out some of the sensory overload. Clinging closer to Theo as he walked through the hoard and forced them to either part for them or get shoved out of his way, she further started to retreat into the shell of Draco's suit and Theo's protective embrace. However the sharp pinch on her shoulder where his hand rested, had her instantly straightening.

"Always keep your head up, love. Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they still affect you."

"Bloody vultures, the whole lot. Oh, except for Darla," she corrected, nodding ahead and to the right where one of Romilda's writers who had jumped ship from the Prophet, was patiently waiting with her photographer.

Guiding her over to the sweet Ravenclaw who had graduated with Marcus during their third year, Theo took the suit jacket from her and subtly verified that the charm he had placed on the skirt of her short dress held. Adjusting her stance and smoothing her curls, he greeted the two over the yelling.

"Juniper, Darla; You know the drill."

While Juniper maneuvered around Darla and rapidly shot several photos of Hermione from various angles, the reporter lifted her quill and asked, "Miss Granger, would you care to confirm if the rumors that are circulating about Ronald Weasley's infidelity and thus the reason for your second break up are true?"

Lifting an eyebrow at Darla, she returned with, "Do you really think I would confirm or deny such a thing? You know I value my privacy. I can't ask the media to respect that in one breath and in the next so freely comment upon the nature of my previous romantic relationships, now can I?"

"So you are single then? What does this mean for you and a particular Falmouth Chaser who just so happens to have joined you tonight in celebrating Draco Malfoy's birthday?"

"As you well know having graduated with him, Marcus Flint was housemates with Draco and the captain of their quidditch team the first two years Draco played. They're friends, why wouldn't he be here?"

"Is that your way of saying, 'no comment?'"

Shaking her head at the smirking reporter, Hermione answered, "That's my way of saying, my relationship status is my own business and that of whomever I may or may not be involved with. It's not speculatory gossip for your readers, Darla."

"Just have to ask. You know our readers are chomping at the bit to see if Wizards' Zenith's Hottest Witch of 2000 and Witch Weekly's most elusive member of the Sexiest Wizards are an item." Glancing at Theo's circling finger, she said, "I know, I know, wrap it up.

"Okay then Miss Granger, my final question: The glass ceiling you've broken through is unprecedented in the field of professional quidditch. While the league began allowing witches several generations ago, with the Holyhead Harpies even creating the first all witch team, the field of sports healing is still a wizard's world. Even your own team, the Falmouth Falcons, is still very much a boys club, being the only team of the British and Irish League's thirteen without a single witch in any of their lineups.

"Why did you choose to contract with such a seemingly misogynistic team and what advice do you have for young witches wishing to break into a wizard dominated career field such as yourself?"

"And that right there, is why we always indulge you, Darla," Theo smiled. "How about you contact her at the stadium and set up an official interview? With a cover spread and without the needless prying into her personal life."

Sliding her quill through the wire rings of her bound parchment, she readily agreed, "Fabulous, I'll owl you on Thursday after I get this back to Romilda and help her get tomorrow's issue finalized. Even though I'm loath to do it, you know I'm going to have to ask about you and Flint during the interview and write some ridiculous baitline to go with it. The two of you and the triangle you create with that imbecilic, arsehole Weasley, have issues flying off the stands."

"You and Juniper are just doing your jobs, I completely understand," she assured.

"Do you still want us to donate your appearance fees to Narcissa Black's Muggleborn Integration Initiative?"

Looking back at Marcus who looked to be bordering on incensed as questions were flung at him, Hermione verified, "This is off the record, correct?"

"In the sense that it won't be published in the magazine, yes. In the sense that I have to fill out forms and turn them into accounting, no."

"Then I'd like half to go to MII and half to go to Including Isolde."

Darla dutifully made a note in own shorthand, her eyes doing a double take as she read the words back. "Isn't that Marcus Flint's charity?" She quietly asked.

"And that concludes your questions," Theo interjected, leading Hermione away. Approaching the entrance to Fallen - a club that delivered on the depraved corruption that its logo of a cracked halo and shredded angel wings promised, he hissed in her ear, "Have you gone mad? What if someone had heard you?"

"It's a good cause and it deserves the money," she defended.

"That may be, but next time, sign a fucking transfer slip. Someone could have heard you."

"And done what with the information? Print a scintillating story about how I'm financially supporting a charity that educates the Wizarding World on dyslexia? Truly scandalous."

"No, and stop acting like a daft cow," he scolded. "It's completely unbecoming. You and I both know very well how this could be twisted, especially on the heels of him being out with us tonight."

Theo's hissed rant continued but fell on deaf ears as the savagery of the paparazzi began to bleed in.

"Flint! Flint! What's it like taking Britain's Gold Girl for a ride on your broom?" A particularly nasty reporter yelled, catching not only her attention but Marcus's as well.

"What the fuck did you just ask me?"

For only a moment she was caught by the indecision of leaving him to the full experience of associating with her and intervening before things got out of hand. Slipping out from under Theo's arm, she doubled back and inserted herself between the reporter with a death wish and a Marcus whose face was shuttered into the sort of violence she had only seen him wear on the pitch.

Placing her hands on his chest, she tried to divert his attention down to her and quietly said, "It's not worth it, taku toa."

"How do you know that?" He asked, his eyes briefly flickering down to her before resuming their blood chilling glower.

"Did you honestly think I wasn't going to start researching and pestering Mahuika when I realized you were speaking Maori?" Subtlety caressing the inside of his arm, she guided, "Come on, he's not worth your time."

His jaw worked as he ground his teeth making her dentist raised self cringe before he relented. Placing his hand squarely in the middle of her back, he started to walk away with her and back towards the entrance of the club, much to the delight of the photographers whose cameras were creating a strobe of flashing bulbs.

"Good luck with that one, Flint!" The reporter called out. "She may have a tight arse but according to Weasley, her cunt's rather frigid!"

"Stupid, son of a bitch," she swore as Marcus turned back around and punched the reporter.

Getting in his face as Viktor and Ades swooped in to wrench him back, he yelled, "You keep her name out of your fucking mouth or I'll take that camera and shove it so far up your arse, that the healers will have to extract it from your throat!"

"In for knut, in for a galleon," she muttered, shaking her head at Theo who was rushing over to try and put a plaster on the hemorrhage of damage that needed to be controlled.

Once again inserting herself between Marcus and the reporter from the wizards' magazine, Insatiable, she ignored the continuous flashes and cupped the back of his head. Pulling him down so his ear was by her mouth, she scratched at the nape of his neck and whispered, "Don't listen to them. Your reaction gives them exactly what they want."

"Did you hear what they were saying about you?" He snarled, attempting to move around her. "What that fucking prick is quoted as saying about you?"

Pressing into him so her body melded with his, Hermione said, "Yes, and it's nothing I haven't heard a dozen or more times before and no doubt will hear it again. From both the press and Ronald Weasley."

"That doesn't fucking make it right!"

"No it doesn't, but you can't fight the entire world on my behalf, taku toa. No matter how much it turns me on or how much I love you for it, you just can't," she said so softly she wasn't sure if he had even heard her until his full attention was finally on her, his body relaxing.

"Did you just-"

"Why don't we get out of here?"

"Okay," he easily agreed, shrugging Ades and Viktor's hold off of him.

Leading him away from the mass, she hugged Theo and informed him of her new plans for the evening. Then taking Marcus's hand, she disapparated them from the middle of the cobblestone lined streets of Diagon Alley. Landing with a soft pop in the secured alleyway behind the penthouse's building, the deafening roar of the media was exchanged for the evening quiet of Muggle Belgravia.

In an instant, Marcus was upon her and crowding her into the smooth wall. With his hips pressing into hers and his hand brushing back her wayward curls, he pleaded and demanded, "Say it again."

"I love you," she breathlessly complied, running her hands up and down his chest.

Kissing a wet path from her temple down to her neck, his tongue laved and rolled her pulsing vein before he sealed his lips around it, making her cry out as she clung to him.

"Again."

Rubbing against his hardening cock, she panted, "I love you."

His hands were everywhere and nowhere as he continued to kiss and suck at her exposed skin. His gentle but calloused touch caressed her bare back, sweeping along the length of her spine. Each downward pass brought him closer to her bum and each upward caress drew his fingers closer to the sides of her breasts. As his fingers finally brushed the soft, outer curve of her right breast, she whined into his neck and dug her nails through his starched dress shirt seeking an anchoring purchase.

"Please," Hermione begged, jutting her chest out as her hips continued to rock back and forth along the bulging placket of his trousers in search of friction.

Her nipples were drawn tight. Her cunt hot and clenching as her knickers dampened with eagerness. She was desperate for more of his touch. Craved to feel his lips travel past her exposed décolletage. And ached to feel the painstakingly defined muscles of his body between her legs as she rubbed her throbbing clit along his cock until she came.

"What do you want, e taku ipo?"

With Marcus's mouth removed from her neck and shoulders, she clasped his face between her hands and kissed him. Tangling her tongue with his, she absorbed the sound of his groans through her mouth and chest as it vibrated out of him. Moving her hands to lace together behind his neck, she had a brief moment of clarity to think against what she was doing before pushing it away and hoisting herself up and into his strong arms. Feeling the tip of his cock finally press against the wet spot in her knickers where she needed him most, she tore her mouth away and moaned into his neck as he gripped her bum and started to thrust up along her covered cunt.

"This…" she breathed, licking and sucking at the tight muscle of his neck, as she drove her hips down to meet his movements. "More of this."

Moving his hand down her hip and along her leg, he hooked her ankles together at the base of his spine and pinned her to the building's wall. His arms stretched out to bracket over her shoulders, his hands slapping against the stone. Wrapped around him and hidden by his broad frame, she felt dainty and feminine. As if he alone could act as a barrier between her and the rest of the world. His body dwarfed and swallowed her own. She could easily be controlled and manipulated beneath him but the crushing power he was capable of was absent as his hold over her remained gentle, further igniting her lust and love for him.

With his hips rolling against hers, he reclaimed her mouth, nipping and pulling at her lower lip as he kissed her with a claiming force. Every kiss and drag of pressure and friction along her hardened clit pushed her closer to the edge of release. Her mewling moans and breathless pants mingled and collided with his own vocalized grunts and sighs, as he tucked his sweat dotted face into her equally misted neck.

"Fuck, Hermione," he groaned, releasing a hand to grip her bum again as his steady pace began to lose rhythm. "I think I'm going to come in my trousers. Please tell me you're close so I don't completely embarrass myself."

She had started to say, "Yes," but her words died off into a silent scream that finished in a low, whimpering moan as his stuttering cock jerked along her clit, bringing forth a rushing orgasm. In the brief black out of sensation, her thighs had clenched around his hips like a vice and her spine had gone rigid while her head fell back against the wall. Returning to conscious thought as she languidly continued to draw out her pleasure, her body melted and relaxed into Marcus's arms, forcing him to take full hold of her weight.

With a few more, short, rapid thrusts between her thighs and a groaned litany of Maori phrases, his jerking hips stilled and he began kissing her neck, jaw, and cheek in heavy relief, hugging her impossibly closer to him. Brushing the hair that had stuck to her perspiring face back, he murmured, "E taku ipo, is the romantic variant of, my love. As in, you are the one I love."

Snuggling even closer to him for a moment longer, she shyly asked, "Are you sure tonight hasn't changed that? I know there are a lot of unique issues in being with me and I wish I could say they'll go away but it's been three years. It's gotten significantly better in that time but I don't think dating me will ever be normal and you're so private and I just don't want you to regret-"

"Hey, hey, stop," he gently ordered as her insecurity induced anxiety bubbled up to the surface again. "I don't regret a single thing that has happened between us and I don't think I ever could. As for what happened tonight, it just pisses me off that invasive shite like that is a part of your everyday life.

"And before you bring it up, I will never resent you for your celebrity being astronomically bigger than mine. If anything, I pity you and hate how the world seems to believe they're entitled to knowing about every detail of your life. It's fucked up and it's even more fucked up that you feel you have to apologize for it and think that it somehow makes you any less desirable."

Not knowing what else to say in the face of how easily he read and soothed her, she quietly voiced her love for him and slowly kissed his swollen lips. Pulling back as she untangled her limbs from his body, she hesitantly asked, "Would you like to spend the night with me, Marcus? We can talk and cuddle or snog and grope each other like bloody teenagers; it doesn't really matter to me, I would just like you to stay with me. You can even bring Darya over if you want. Theo has a tiered balcony that has grass and a pool and really comfortable outdoor furniture if you don't want to let her out there unsupervised. We can even light the fire pit and-"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You're rambling," he chuckled. Kissing her forehead, he said, "Since that photo was published in the Prophet and I saw you in Krum's jersey, I've been wanting to have the chance to wake up with you in my bed. So if you want me to stay the night with you, then I'm going to stay the night with you, e taku ipo. I just can't promise I won't want to make it a regular occurrence."

Warming at his words, she smiled, "Provided you don't snore, that could possibly be arranged."

"Cheeky witch."

"But I'm your cheeky witch."

"And that makes me the luckiest bastard around," Marcus said.

Kissing her again, he saw her up to Theo's flat where he used the floo to collect Darya from Graham's, leaving Hermione to scurry about her suite as she excitedly got ready for her first non-platonic sleepover since Viktor.

AN:

When Hermione says: "I can't ask the media to respect that in one breath and in the next so freely comment upon the nature of my previous romantic relationships, now can I?" This is a paraphrase of something Emma Watson was quoted saying in a interview several years ago when asked about her dating life.

Maori phrases:

- taku toa - my warrior/hero
- e taku ipo - romantic variation of, my love