The Meeting

by Ydream08

Chapter 5

"Thank you, Dunmore." Corban nodded to his Squib driver once he was out of the backseat of his Mercedes S320. The black vehicle had been Corban's companion just as the driver for the past three years. It had been difficult to adapt at first, but he found that he was content with the quality of this transport. Within the Muggle neighbourhood of Glasgow it showed a difference and with that in mind Corban Yaxley could bare his humble commute which involved Dunmore driving Corban from his Manor at the outskirts of the city to an old central pub from where Corban would floo to the Leaky Cauldron in London. Later, he used the visitors entrance there to the Ministry.

It was a tedious work. Loss of time, really. After the War, floo network to the Ministry had become restricted, and only the Heads of Departments had direct fireplace connections. With his newly appointed position of Head, Corban was counting the days to get a grant for the floo connection as Apparating to London like in good old days was unfortunately a distant dream.

Owling with Professor Granger, Corban found it better that the witch prefered floo over Apparition anyway. It made it easier to arrange transportation to the restaurant he has booked for tonight.

"She should be here any moment," Corban muttered to Dunmore. Both men stood beside the car, waiting for the guest to arrive.

"You need only to notify the restaurant staff for when you would like to leave, sir." Dunmore looked around. "I will come without delay."

Corban nodded. They had conversed about this.

As a Squib, Dunmore has been an immense asset ever since Corban moved back into his Manor. He and Corban used to be playmates as childs. His parents, the Andersons, were a respectable family, father pureblood and mother Half-Blood. They had Dunmore as their only child, and as a result, when Dunmore failed to manifest magic, the family had removed themselves from the magical world. The Yaxley family had not lost connection till the loss of Corban's mother five years before the second war.

Dunmore had visited Corban at the Manor two days after his release from Azkaban.

It was an amusing gift from fate, Corban admitted. Although they maintained a familiar business relation now, Dunmore felt more like an old friend (different from Lucius of course). Dunmore had helped Corban back to his feet, starting from the employment of the Manor's cleaning and cooking staff (House-elves were released from his domain) to aiding with Corban's regular visits with an old Healer in Glasgow.

Considering all that, maybe Corban should have relented to the man's insistent advice to buy a mobile phone. A portable communication device, as Corban was informed. It would save the hussle of these irritating details like when and how to meet as in now.

"Yes, I will let the staff know." Corban had slipped to Dunmore that he was meeting with a female friend tonight. Hence why he was receiving the sideway glances every bloody second. A change of topic was warranted as they waited. "How are the kids? The boy is graduating this year, isn't he?"

Dunmore smiled, unmistakably a smile of a father. "He will start university this Fall, very excited for it. He is taller than me now, you know sir. And my girl… oh my princess… I can't believe she received the Letter."

Corban let a genuine smile form as he looked at his friend. It was a happy coincidence for their younger child to get a Hogwarts letter around the time the family had reasserted their connection to the magical world through Corban.

The girl, Clare, had not showed any accidental magic as Dunmore kept on saying. Thus why the parents had been quite shocked to have an owl waiting on their post. Corban was confident Dunmore and his wife must have missed the signs, but as a man without a wife no less children, Corban couldn't fathom how could a parent overlook the magic of their offspring.

"She will do amazing things, Dunmore. A lucky girl, yours is. Do not forget, I am here for your and your daughter's any need. I wish to repay all your kindness."

Dunmore nodded, unable to say more on the topic. Some time ago, Corban had caught tears in Dunmore's eyes at these topics.

Corban was about to say more when his friend shook off his familiarity and stood straight. Corban had been standing unchanged, shoulders squared and back straight already, but even he felt the need to reassess himself and lift his chin.

Following Dunmore's gaze, Corban found what has caught his attention. Of course, his driver did not know Professor Granger, but as she was looking at Corban now, nobody would mistake that she was the guest they were awaiting.

Corban could not determine what the young woman wore under that long black coat of hers, but her stocked legs under which black high heels were worn, he guessed she chose a dress tonight as well. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail for a change.

She looked stunning.

Maybe the best aspect of her was the blush of her cheeks Corban noticed under the dim street light at the corner of the pub.

As her unwavering gaze kept Corban's, he couldn't help but smirk. He knew she liked what she saw, just as he did. He wondered why she hesitated though, not like he would bite if she walked over. Maybe he should.

At the thought, Corban's eyes flashed and a wide grin cracked his face. Not that Professor Granger was privy of his thoughts, but for some reason she averted her gaze in embarrassment and then prepared to cross the road to join him.

"Hi," she called. Once she took that last step next to him, she offered to shake his hand. Corban held her soft hand in his and turned it to put a light kiss on her knuckles.

"Welcome, Professor Granger," he replied. She bit her lower lip but that did not hide her smile. Good.

There was a clearing of a throat, and Corban remembered Dunmore waiting standing to show both of them to their seats.

He opened the back door and Corban assisted Professor Granger while she took her seat. Corban shook off Dunmore when he attempted to circle around to help him, and opened his own door.

Looking at Professor Granger and noting her small smile to his silent question, Corban nodded. "We are all set, Dunmore."

Dunmore set the engine going, and silence fell over the car. It was not yet terribly dark outside and to their luck no rain was expected for today, but such material was not used to prompt a conversation.

Corban honestly knew not where to start or what to say. Should he wait for her to talk?

Nonsense! He was the host. Where was his manners? Merlin curse him if he would be paralysed as a boy who sees a woman for the first time.

"How did you find the pub? I hope the floo was not tiring."

"Oh, no," Professor Granger shook her head. "I asked Professor—Headmistress McGonagall to use her fireplace. It was easy to find here. Thank you for offering to pick me up, it is much easier this way. I've never been to Glasgow. It is a nice change for me."

"Have you never been here before?" Corban asked. When the witch shook her head again, he felt pride at being the person to show her his city for the first time. It was a chance to make her fall in love with here. "It is where I was born. The Yaxley Manor, near outside the city, has been in my family for centuries. I would love to show you the city next time, at a day when we meet earlier."

"I'd love that!" Professor Granger interrupted, but quickly blushed at her own excitement. "I mean, I love seeing new places. I travelled with my parents every summer, but we've never come to Scotland. I mean, Hogwarts is at the Highlands here, so they thought I should see foreign places while I had the chance."

"Why not do all?" Corban countered. He was amazed how easily the conversation flowed already and Professor Granger seemed very interested being here with him. This woman should definitely be a dream. "I find that travelling is a matter of setting your mind to it and making the appropriate arrangements. Before…" Corban cleared his throat. Talking about the war would not be a good starter for their chat. "I used travel Europe very frequently before. Once in my sixth year in Hogwarts even, me and my friends had arranged to travel on our own. Those were good days."

"In sixth year? Was it in that summer or the winter break? Where did you travel to?"

"Let me see… There were five of us… Andrew, Samuel, me and Lucius… and Errol, yes… I wonder what he is up to nowadays? Anyhow, it was in the summer holiday when the five of us started with Paris, France,…"

"Mr. Yaxley, sir," Dunmore interrupted. Corban looked up at him at the rear mirror. There was a curious glint in his eyes. "We have arrived."

Corban turned to Professor Granger and smiled apologetically. The young witch smiled as well and went to grab her purse. Soon, they stopped by the side of the road. As Dunmore helped Professor Granger out of the car, Corban stepped outside and walked around to receive his lady friend.

"Thank you, Dunmore."

With a sly work of Dunmore's leading hands, Professor Granger had her own hand resting at the inside of Corban's forearm. The proximity descended the two into silence as they walked inside, but it was a silence of shy anticipation. Corban had a strong feeling that his excitement over the young witch's presence was mirrored with her.

Corban requested their table and the waiter guided them over to their seats by the windows. The restaurant was of high-quality as could be concluded from the pristine attires of the staff, the dressings of the tables and appearances of the customers. Here was one of the famous establishments in the city where one or two wizards or witches could -although rarely- be spotted. Those who could afford such establishments did not prefer Muggle side of Glasgow as the wizarding side was much more respected and well-known. Corban did not mind coming here, especially since he desired anonymity overall and especially in this specific circumstance.

Taking out the War Heroine Hermione Granger to dinner, just the two of them, would have been golden news for the front page of the Prophet.

"It is an amazing place," Professor Granger commented when the waiter left with their menus. "Do you come here often?"

The young witch was already skimming through the menu so Corban couldn't determine whether she asked it out of curiosity or meant to inquire him about coming to a Muggle place.

"Occasion rarely arises," Corban decided on. "I dine guests mostly at the Manor."

There was no need to mention he has had no guests till now. Only Lucius. Not that Corban counted him. His old friend did not linger in Glasgow, but dropped by to whisk away Corban to some event or the other. Lucius Malfoy always says, in an event, attending by oneself means desperate but two people would look worthwhile. Corban has gotten used to it.

"Oh, I see." Corban glanced briefly at the witch. Was that a blush? "So, this is different."

Her voice wavered alas it did not sound as a question. Corban was confident this to be the worst time to explain why this meeting was different.

"Have you decided?" Corban continued instead. "I could make a suggestion, if you'd like?"

Professor Granger shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment, she cracked a smile. "No, that's fine. I decided."

Corban felt his mouth dry so when he called the waiter to order, he asked for refreshments as well.

"So?" Professor Granger rested her elbows on the table, her delicate hands gathered above the plate but they quickly slipped back down when she edged closer on her seat.

"So…" His heart hammered against his chest when she looked at him like that. Her eyes were so big, so focused, and light seemed to emit within them, instead of merely reflecting it.

"Counting the days for the meeting at Hogwarts, eh?" Corban commented finally. Else Professor Granger would look into his soul.

"Right, the meeting…" Professor Granger muttered, her eyes losing that shine a notch. "Really, with the countdown to the wedding, it is hardly in my mind—"

Corban nearly choked. "Pardon me?"

"Are you alright? I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"

"Your wedding?"

"My wedding? What?"

"Professor Granger, you said your wedding countdown was…"

"Just Hermione is fine."

An abrupt silence. Corban could swear the air between them was as thick as his damn robes. Both bloody condensing, hot, and restrictive. He must have gained weight.

"Hermione," Corban tried the name. It felt different. Intimate. The hot flush travelled rather south. Thinking back to the main topic, Corban forced to swallow the lump in his throat and ignore his excitement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I definitely heard… Are you getting married?"

"What? No! No way. No, you got it all wrong."

The waiter chose that moment to refresh their glasses.

Professor Granger took a swallow. "Godric, no. Not my wedding. It is Ronald's. The news was sudden, so I can imagine why you don't know. It is two days from now. I'm helping Ginny with the preparations."

Corban only knew one Ronald she could refer to. "Ronald Weasley?"

Professor Granger nodded. "He was abroad. I don't follow his team's schedule, but this season they are rarely playing at homeland. He is a professional Quidditch player, a Keeper. Anyway, he just popped in at the Burrow -where the Weasley's live- and announced he would be marrying to this blonde witch. Molly wasn't enthusiastic till he confessed the girl is pregnant."

Corban couldn't hide his shock. Professor Granger rolled her eyes as if to agree with him. "Yeah, such a romantic story…"

"Romance is hardly my forte to make a judgement," Corban relented. He was aware what he would say about this was important. This line of conversation could easily be turned into their outlooks on marriage. Corban aimed exactly that; and if he was successful about it, perhaps he and Professor Granger—Hermione would agree on the nature of their relation by the end of the night.

Hermione assessed him carefully as he spoke, "However I find that it is hardly appropriate."

"I guess…" The witch repositioned herself in her seat. She looked downcast. Her brows furrowed. "It is not anybody's business how they went about it."

Corban shook his head at the obvious annoyance of the witch. She understood him wrong. "I do not say this to scorn them." It was true. His voice was devoid of the venom it would have possessed some years ago. "I do not care what they do. And of course, I'm in no position to judge them. I only meant to say that… for me, that kind of behaviour is not acceptable. I would never commit such acts."

Now the witch had a puzzled look to her, but a curious one. "So, what would you have done? Left the the girl and the baby? Or demanded she be rid of it?"

"No," Corban directly said.

All the anger vanished from the witch's face as she froze, a blush creeping to her beautiful skin as seconds washed by.

This was amusing. Corban would enjoy making Hermione surprised at every step that she got to know him.

"If the woman was one that I involved myself with, I would have proposed from the start. Before the baby."

Their orders came with the topic hanging in the air rather glaringly. A few minutes passed as the clings of their utensils were all that could be heard.

When Corban heard a soft moan, he looked up at the young witch. Her eyes were closed, lips sparkling as she tasted her bite, and when she opened her eyes, she looked captivated. "This salmon is delicious."

Corban reached for his drink. After taking a gulp, he smiled and nodded. "I'm glad it is to your satisfaction."

They commented on the culinary accomplishments of the establishment for the following ten to twenty minutes as they ate before Miss Granger reached for her own glass.

"You know that I'm not stupid, right? You avoided my question."

Corban raised his brows. "I'd never insult a breath-taking woman as yourself like that."

Hermione's eyes popped open in bewilderment. "Uh… yes, well, that's not what I…"

"Is this about your friend's situation?"

Miss Granger put down her glass and nodded.

"I hardly know their circumstances now, do I?"

"But you said it is not appropriate of them to do what they do. Yet you admit you don't know their circumstances."

"You are trying to deviate my words and intentions."

"Explain to me."

At that, Corban found Miss Granger's insistent eyes. Those lovely brown eyes that held his cold blue ones, screamed Miss Granger's undivided attention. It pleased Corban to be the one kept by them.

"You do not accept my answer that I would have acted very differently regarding a witch from the very beginning."

"Of course I don't. I asked you what you'd do if there was a baby?"

"...And I know a small part of you who…" Corban knew they would delve into the topic of the War sooner or later but he prefered it to be short. "...who thinks that I am capable of heinous actions also thinks that I would terrorize the poor woman for her to be out of my life. However, you take lightly the beliefs we, I , live by. So I will stress it again that I would not be involved with a witch and end up like your friend, that's why I think your insistence to know what I would do if there was a baby, a rather pointless wondering…"

Miss Granger opened her mouth again to argue, her expression cross.

"But, hastening the process and not valuing the tradition to ask for the hand of the witch is still not acceptable for me. If there were a baby, tradition dictates the families to draw a contract just the same. Except for the tedious fore-details as to determining the heritage of the baby and so on."

"Draw contracts?"

"Indeed." Corban watched as the woman neutralized her expression. Then she looked upset again.

"It is marriage either way?"

"Not if you prefer to 'be rid of it'? The baby?"

Hermione looked taken aback with how the tables turned. It was her time to be questioned, Corban mused.

"I don't find it healthy to speak hypothetically without specifics on a situation."

"That is quite hypocritical of you." Corban grinned at her blush.

"Well, for your information, that is a very personal question—"

"So was asking what I would do if…"

"—and I believe a child has to grow in a loving environment, so in any other situation I do not accept accidents. But that is me. Not to mention, here I am speaking without being pregnant at the moment facing that very decision with a man I do not love. That means, whatever I say must never be taken seriously."

Miss Granger's flare dimmed as he held her gaze. He finally reached for his glass, mulling over what she has said.

"How can you have a strong opinion but be so accommodating at the same time?" Corban blurted out.

He knew this trait was why the witch was currently sitting at his table. On a date with him.

"I learned. I'm learning," she whispered.

Both gazed carefully in each others' eyes but none elaborated on the subject.

This was a bloody weird date. If it was one, at least.

Here they were talking about marriage, love and abortion, albeit barely. For Hermione, it felt like back at the meeting again. They were speaking about these subjects but she didn't feel like they were speaking to the very last detail, giving every reasoning behind their arguments or try reach an acceptable resolution.

It made her frustrated. And hot. And so very aroused.

The last time she ever conversed this way (as in, speaking her arguments meant a shiver alerted her core) it was back at the education meeting at Hogwarts and Hermione knew adrenaline was the key there as she had been presenting a case to thirty people.

Here, it was only the two of them.

A very fit male specimen, sitting across her, poised and serious, his eyes always searching to find hers…

It was a miracle she was able to breathe this regularly.

Taking the last bite of her dish, Hermione leaned back at her chair. Corban Yaxley was indeed a fine wizard. Aged, yes, but he made her feel a range of emotions she only felt reading fiction books.

Unnoticingly, her eyes wandered over his gray-blonde hair tied at the nape. The colour change was obviously from both his long years and stressful life, but the real give away was his features. His eyes were sharp and alight, but the crinkles around them just as around his mouth and the corner of his chin, relayed that he was senior to Hermione. Those, Hermione in fact overlooked. What caught her attention was rather his lashes, that made his eyes striking as if they already hadn't been, and his lips, that Hermione couldn't help but imagining how they would feel brushing against hers.

The hot flush she felt at her temples made her eyes drop. She shouldn't think too frequently down that path. Really. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

This was a night that she would go with the flow.

And honestly, it felt odd that she felt so strongly to this man, thinking that he wasn't at all whom she imagined going out with.

For example, with males, Hermione had an obsession to check their hands and fingers. They had to be thin and elegant, nails long and unbitten. It was one of the rare things she always thought wouldn't overlook when she assessed someone's potential.

Hermione stole a glance at Mr. Yaxley's hands and found that she hadn't been mistaken the first time she met him. They weren't ugly, but…

Hermione looked up at his eyes again and any coherent thought was lost. What had she been thinking? Did it matter what his hands looked like when he made her feel this way? When he was so captivating like that? His eyes bore into hers, pinning her to the spot.

Holding his gaze was preferable to anyone else's she has ever met so far in her short life.

"Dessert?" Mr. Yaxley asked.

Hermione blinked and gathered her wits. "Sure. Anything you pick."

The waiter came and Mr. Yaxley put in the order. Hermione waited for them to be alone again to broach a new subject. She was curious.

"So… Before the war… I mean, do you have kids? Were you married? After war, I mean in Azkaban if you were locked… Is that when you got a divorce?"

For a person who could form perfect sentences, asking a question was definitely not easy for her at the moment.

Not when she noticed his sour expression, anyway.

What did he expect? This question would be asked one way or the other! Hermione knew they had arranged a date after the meeting, and till coming here, she had thought it could have been a professional invite to talk about the education system, but neither of them had spoken about it.

This was a date. And if they have talked about her non-existent wedding, they would talk about his life as well.

"Just one question, Miss Granger. My life is not so complicated."

Hermione held the bridge of her nose at that. Her attempt to ask him this had indeed sounded awful then.

"Well, it is not simple if you don't tell me about it."

"Yes, I believe you are right." Mr. Yaxley gathered his hands in front of him. His face was devoid of any emotion. "I never married. Never had children of my own. After the war, I was locked up in Azkaban for three years. Very long, if you ask me. When I was out, I started to work in the Ministry. Education Department was in need of staff and I found myself there."

Hermione doubted that was the whole story, but it seemed he would divulge her this much tonight. And for this one time, Hermione guessed she could leave the subject at that.

Their desserts have arrived, rather conveniently as well.

Just when she took a bite of her creme brulee, Mr. Yaxley spoke again.

"I want to have a family now that I have set my life straight. There is still much more that I could accomplish, make a better place for myself in the wizarding world, but I find that I do not want to do that alone."

That meant… That meant he is taking this seriously.

Her brain gave a halt at this, and Hermione had to force herself to find something to say.

Did she want to start a relationship that could lead to marriage? Wasn't she going with the flow? This was not going with the flow, it was outright planning.

"I'm not sure…" Hermione finally managed to put together something before Mr. Yaxley interfered.

"I have time of course, there is no point to rush myself."

There was a silence in which Hermione wondered whether she appreciated him being honest or whether it was freaking her out.

She thought about it as the wonderful sweetness of the creme brulee eased her nerves. His revelation shouldn't bother her this much, right? She was already twenty-three, and (beside Ron) a few of her friends had already married. Not that it meant she should marry. But what harm would be to try her attraction? Yes, his intention was to marry, but he has made it clear that he could wait… wait for her to change her mind?

This was a bloody mess.

"I'm not sure." This time Hermione sounded more confident. She felt more confident. She wasn't bloody sure, of course. She had to think. She had to make a pro-&-con list. First, a list of marriage in general, then of marrying now, and lastly a list of being in a relationship that linked to a marriage.

Furthermore, Hermione had to know Corban Yaxley more before she even considered marriage in the specific situation that it happened to be with him.

"That's alright."

At the response, Hermione was met with a lovely smile of Mr. Yaxley. It made her heart flutter.

"Why are you...?"

"Shall we go?" Mr. Yaxley changed the subject. Hermione wanted to talk, but she wanted to be alone to think as well, so she dumbly nodded. For once she wouldn't argue.

The man rose to his feet and helped Hermione, too.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, all Hermione could think of was how nice Mr. Yaxley smelled and how distracting the heat coming from his arm she held onto was.

"I'm afraid we'll have to wait for my driver to come. It shouldn't take long."

Hermione squeezed his arm and looked up at him. His other hand covered hers immediately, and his lips curled into the faintest smile.

"I would like to see you again," Mr. Yaxley rasped that moment. Her breath caught as his intense gaze found hers to show that he was effected very much like her.

"I could owl you." Hermione wasn't sure she would. But if she wanted, she could.

Mr. Yaxley nodded. She didn't want to break the eye contact (even if it burned her face immeasurably) but she couldn't resist to glance at his lips.

Hermione knew she had to know to make a decision.

It was a simple line to add to her pro-&-con list.

His touch makes me a wonderful mess.

She had to know.

One hand reached to guide him by his nape, and the other took leavarge so she could rise to her tiptoes.

It was a faint brush of skin at first. Nothing out of ordinary. Dry but warm. Very warm. She licked her lips. Then reached for him again.

This time it was more solid. A fine press of their lips. She felt him there. Real. Male. Exhilarating.

She gently fell back to her feet and Mr. Yaxley followed her lips. The third time their lips met, it was with an angle. It made it easier to open her mouth, dart her tongue and find his as well.

He was so hot and soft. Wet and sweet. Must be the chocolate cake he ate last.

Hermione couldn't help the content moan as they deepened the kiss. His arm came around her waist and brought her closer. His big hand cupped her jaw and the touch burned her.

His touch makes me a wonderful mess.

They had to stop to breathe.

They had to stop for decency, she realized with how Mr. Yaxley cleared his throat and took half a step back.

He still somewhat held her, his fingers clasping the edge of her cloak.

Just as Hermione was about to look at him, an intense light obscured him and Hermione reflexively turned around to find that it was the headlights of their transport.

It was a blur how the driver stepped out and helped her sit. Mr. Yaxley sat next to her once again. It wasn't closer than when they had picked her up. The dinner and the kiss had not changed his position.

Hermione didn't know what that meant.

She didn't glance back at him as they rode. Looking out the window was not a better choice as it reflected her and Mr. Yaxley over the black surroundings. At least the image was blurred.

Finally the car came to a stop at the front of a pub. Hermione knew the place. She would floo to Hogwarts from here.

The driver was much closer to her so it didn't surprise her that he opened the door. He was a gentleman with a sincere smile on his face. Hermione thanked him as she got out.

Before she could take a step further, a hand grabbed her elbow and turned her around.

Hermione knew she would not forget his sharp gaze. His tightly sealed lips. His knitted brows.

She wouldn't forget the slight blush to his cheekbones.

Her hand was held. She glanced down as her own small hand disappeared in his two larger ones. He held onto her firmly as he brought her hand to his lips. He stood tall, no bending to steal a kiss at her knuckles.

As his lips stayed at her skin longer, the gesture felt more intimate.

His touch makes me a wonderful mess.

How in the world would she walk back to her room with her weak knees?

"I will wait for your owl, Hermione."

When her hand was released, Hermione did the only thing that made sense. She Disapparated.

Hello,

I just want to wish everyone to be safe and healthy! Take good care of yourselves!

Ydream08