A/N: Hello, my darlings. Thanks every so much for all the love and praise you have been heaping upon me for this fic. I hope you like this chapter. It's a bit later than I'd have liked, but I seem to have finally broken out of the slight funk I was suffering, so my updates should pick up again across my main fics. Please refer to my author profile regarding the new schedule I'm going to be trying to implement, particularly in reference to which fics are my focus right now and which one are on temporary hiatus. Much love! xx-Kitten.
Firewhiskey Nights
By Kittenshift17
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thorfinn returned to his table with his anger still simmering, but a proud little smirk on his face. For a witch who'd been concerned about the idea of how her association with him might affect his chances at finding some other witch to bear his offspring, she'd just painted a big media target on both their backs. And Thorfinn didn't think he could be happier.
He'd been wondering, idly, how she really felt about his past choices and his history as a Death Eater. He could barely believe his ears that her only response to the idea was defending her own choices and a flippant sort of 'so?'
"What the fuck just happened?" Draco Malfoy asked when Thorfinn reached their table and began handing out drinks.
"Did Granger just defend you?" Bass asked him.
Thorfinn didn't comment. He was privately amused that despite her blood status, most everyone among their group referred to her not as a mudblood, but by her name. Many of them owed their freedom to her in one way or another. She might've fought for the Order, but the witch had been unabashedly honest throughout her questioning and her testaments at many of their trials. He knew for a fact that he, Toshka, both Malfoys and both Lestranges owed her for setting the record straight on their involvement in things she'd witnessed or been the victim of.
"What were you doing talking to her?" Rockwood wanted to know.
"Keeping her from being accidentally hit by that bastard when he started mouthing off," Thorfinn said.
"Fiery little thing when pushed, isn't she?" Rodolphus commented. Thorfinn watched the way the man's young son wriggled free of Bass's hold when Bass reached for his drink. The kid darted past Thorfinn's legs before he could catch him, disappearing amid the many legs of patrons within the bar.
"I thought you were the one with the hard-on for her, Dolohov?" Theo Nott drawled.
"I wouldn't put it that way," Toshka shook his head. His eyes were glued to the witch across the bar. Thorfinn slotted into his seat next to Bass and looked in Granger's direction as well.
"Oh?" Lucius Malfoy raised a single eyebrow in silent question.
Toshka ignored him. He always did when it came to questions about his fascination with Granger. Thorfinn was the only one who could get answers out of the git about her. And he wasn't feeling much like sharing right at that moment. Granger was still standing at the bar where Potter was overseeing the order of another beverage for her while she fumed to him quietly. He got the feeling from Potter's lack of reaction or comment pertaining to his being near Granger, that he'd already known Thorfinn had been shagging the witch.
Hell, he got the feeling that the pair of them kept no secrets from each other. In fact, he was thinking they bloody adored each other but it looked completely platonic when they'd walked into the pub arm-in-arm.
"Bloody prick," Toshka muttered.
"Don't kill him," Bass laughed. "He's hardly the first cunt to disparage the lot of us."
"First one to mess with Dolohov's favourite witch," Draco commented. The kid threw back his drink in long gulps.
"Don't kill him, even if he does deserve it," Bass repeated.
"Killing's boring," Toshka spoke up. He turned his eyes back to their discussion when Granger collected another drink, braced herself and made her way back towards the other Order members and the Weasley brats with Potter's arm around her shoulders once more. "If I killed everyone who annoys me, I wouldn't get to enjoy the delights of torturing, tormenting and otherwise taunting them into madness."
Cruel smirks were traded around the table before Lucius changed the subject to the political climate and whether Shacklebolt was going to overturn some House Elf Subjugation Act that Umbridge had passed years ago.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Two hours later found Hermione feeling particularly tipsy and thinking about how acceptable it would be to mount Thorfinn Rowle in a pub full of people. She'd managed to arrange herself in her chair at the table with their friends so that she could sneak glances at the table where the Death Eaters were sitting. Thorfinn had been steadily drinking all evening, just like she had.
"Are you listening?" Ginny demanded of her when Hermione's attention strayed to the sight of Rita Skeeter approaching the Death Eaters.
The woman was a menace. They'd come to an agreement many years ago to prevent Rita from writing about her, but Hermione suspected from the look on Rowle's face that he didn't like the tenor of the bitch's questions.
"Of course I am, Ginny," Hermione said. She darted a glance at the redhead. "I just don't see what you want me to say. If you're unhappy with the Harpies, see if there's any other team interested in taking you on. If not, maybe it's not the team but the game that's beginning to wear on you. Maybe you should think about retiring. You could go into Sports writing or something."
Ginny looked pensive at the suggestion. Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione from across the table. Hermione had to hide her smirk.
"Oh this is getting ridiculous!" Angeline suddenly griped. "I have to pee. Again."
Unable to stomach anymore of the woman's bitching about her pregnancy, Hermione got off her stool and strolled away from her friends without a word. She'd intended to head to the bar to talk to Hannah while the girl continued pouring drinks and serving her patrons, but Rita's voice stopped her.
"So you have no comment about being fired from The Daily Prophet, Mr Rowle?" Rita asked.
Hermione caught the way Thorfinn was fingering his wand under the table.
"None," Rowle answered tightly.
"My sources at the office say otherwise," Rita sneered. "I'm told you threw a public fit and instigated a duel."
"How do you react when people spit on you?" Rabastan Lestrange asked snidely of the witch.
"Do you have a comment about Miss Granger's defence of you earlier this evening, Mr Rowle?" Rita pushed. She ignored Rabastan completely.
Before Thorfinn could open his mouth to answer her, Hermione made a beeline for their table. Many of the ex-Death Eaters eyed her. Most of them looked curious. Theo and Draco were both looking as though they believed Christmas was about to come early and that she'd give them all a show to laugh about. She wondered what they'd all thought of her earlier outburst with Pinswizzle.
Rather than speaking to any of them, Hermione tapped Rita on the shoulder. The Unregistered Animagus turned towards the touch, a polite 'fuck off' expression crossing her face to deal with whomever was touching her. The expression and the colour slipped from her features when she spotted Hermione. Rita jumped back from her in surprise, looking fearful of being forced into a jam jar once more.
"You! I have every right to question him, Granger," Rita immediately began making excuses for her behaviour.
"Shut up," Hermione told the woman, "I'm not here about that."
Rita looked even more concerned by that.
"I am within my rights to ask about your outbursts, Missy," Rita tried again.
"Would you stop being daft for ten seconds?" Hermione demanded of the woman, her tongue always barbed at the best of times, but extra prone to cutting remarks when she'd been drinking. "I need to speak to you. Privately. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Rita protested, pulling her wand and aiming it at Hermione.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, you paranoid little gnat!" Hermione bumped the wand tip away from herself before snatching the other witch by the wrist and dragging her closer. She pulled Rita in until she could whisper into her ear. When her words were delivered, Rita jerked back with a gasp of shock and fear. Her cheeks rapidly bloomed red.
"Thank you," Rita gasped. She Disapparated with a sharp crack.
Hermione smirked to herself as she stared at the spot the woman had vacated for a moment, a cruel little chuckle escaping her over her unkind prank. Turning back towards the bar, Hermione made to walk in that direction before one of the Death Eaters called her back.
"How did you do that?" Rodolphus Lestrange was staring at her when Hermione turned back to face them.
"Do what?" Hermione asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Get rid of her? She was afraid of you, but defensive and plucky enough to stand her ground until you whispered to her," Rodolphus said. He cocked his head to one side like a curious canine. "What did you tell her?"
Hermione grinned wickedly.
"That hardly matters, does it?" she asked. "The point is that she won't be showing her face for a little while, I imagine."
"You've got dirt on her?" Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
"I do," Hermione nodded. "But I didn't need to use it to get rid of her. The dirt I have on her keeps her from reporting lies about me and my friends. It doesn't mean she won't loiter about for a scoop from any of us, if she can do so."
"What is it?" Theo Nott wanted to know.
"Can't tell you that, Nott," Hermione smirked.
She shot a glance at Thorfinn, finding him watching her with no small amount of heat in his eyes. He also looked intrigued, as though he was trying to unravel her like some complex Arithmancy problem. Hermione looked away before anyone could get the wrong idea. She got the feeling that he was really the type to share unless it would buy him something, so she didn't want to go giving away that they'd been shagging if she didn't have to.
"Oh, come on, Granger," Nott whined. "You can tell us. Who are we going to tell? We're not the blackmailing type."
Hermione actually snorted when her laughter came pouring out over the very idea or his assertion.
"If you lot aren't the blackmailing type, then I'm a bloody Hippogriff," Hermione wheezed several minutes later. The alcohol was making her a little giddy and Nott's words had tickled her pink.
"You don't have the arse for being a Hippogriff," Rabastan Lestrange informed her, looking her up and down, assessing her.
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult," Hermione admitted. She held the man's gaze for a long moment, noting the way a little smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"Neither am I," he replied.
"Well, at least your honest. About this, anyway." Hermione shook her head, chuckling to herself once more. "Anyway, my glass is empty and I'm tired of listening to ungrateful bitches whining about their blessings. So, I'm going to go and get myself something stronger to drink. Good evening, gentlemen."
She nodded to the gathered group before turning on her heel and making her way across the bar once more. She caught the way Ron, Ginny, and even Luna were all eyeing her as though she had done something wrong by approaching them. Harry was watching her too, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes even as he chatted up some girl Hermione didn't recognise. She owuuld have to look into that. The bitch looked like she only want to shag Harry to claim the fame of it all.
Hell, the woman looked like a scandal waiting to happen if the plunging neckline of her dress and the greedy glint in her eyes was any indication.
"Hermione? What can I get you?" Hannah asked, bustling over.
"Something stronger than this," Hermione answered, holding out the empty glass she'd drunk her last gulp of Long Island Iced Tea from.
"Sweetie, are you sure you can handle something stronger than that? The next step up in probably Absinthe. Even the Death Eaters don't drink that stuff." Hannah frowned at her worryingly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let me put it this way. If I have to listen to Angelina bitch about her pregnancy symptoms one more time, I'm going to hex her. And I need to go over there and make sure that gold-digger Harry's chatting up isn't going to purposely get knocked up by my best friend just to get her hands on his fame and his Gringott's vault. So I'm thinking that a little Absinthe will go a long way to cooling my fury."
"Oh, Sweetie," Hannah sighed. She shook her head sympathetically, knowing too well about Hermione's woes over her inability to get pregnant. In the brief estrangement between Hermione from the Weasley's after Ron had cheated on her, Hermione had found a willing ear, and a sturdy shoulder to cry on in Hannah Abbott.
She was a sweet girl who lived up to her Hufflepuff nature. Kind. Loyal. Utterly reliable and funny to boot. Hermione rather adored the witch. She'd poured her troubles into Hannah's willing ears when she'd broken things off with Ron, and again when she'd had her tests and found that she was basically barren. Hannah knew – all too well – that sometimes Hermione got a bit frustrated with people who whinged about the things they took for granted. Especially when they whinged to those less fortunate.
While Hannah reached for the bright green bottle on the top shelf of the display, Hermione peered around the bar wondering who she could chat to that would keep her from having to return to her friends for a while longer. She spotted some of the girls from the Harpies that she'd gotten to know through Ginny, but she wasn't in the mood for Quidditch talk. Her eyes strayed to Neville – who'd wandered away from their usual group and appeared to be avidly chatting with a pair of other wizards. She didn't know either of the men, but they were quite a bit older than Neville and from the animation in his movements, Hermione suspected she knew their topic. Plants. Neville never looked that enthused unless he was talking about his plants.
Just as she was thinking she might join them to find out what was happening in the horticultural sector of the Wizarding World, there was a sharp tug on the hem of her dress. Hermione glanced in the direction of the tug, her brow furrowing when she spotted a small boy peering up at her.
"Hello?" Hermione greeted the child, glancing around to see if anyone was looking for the lost boy.
"Up?" the toddler asked reach both arms over his head. He clutched a stuff toy in one hand that looked rather like a werewolf. He gave her a gap-toothed smile when she looked back at her.
"Who do you belong to, handsome?" Hermione asked.
"Up? Up!" the boy demanded. His eyes were a vivid shade of green. His hair dark brown and slightly curly. He was adorable, if she was being honest. He didn't even look sticky, so that was a bonus.
"I don't know who you belong to, sweetheart," Hermione said. "I'll be in trouble for picking up a stranger's child without permission. Where's your Mum and Dad?"
"Zeke ups!" the boy repeated. He opened and closed one hand – the one not clutching his toy – in clear insistence that he be picked up.
"You can pick him up, Hermione," Hannah told her. Hermione glanced over at the woman behind the bar.
"Who does he belong to?"
"Someone who should be keeping a better eye on him. If you want to hold him – and he seems to have taken a shine to you – I can guarantee his father isn't going to mind. Isn't that right, Zeke?"
"Zeke ups now," the boy babbled.
Frowning, Hermione reached down and scooped him up, sliding her hands under his armpits and hoisting him high until she could prop him upon her hip.
"Should he even be here?" Hermione asked of Hannah.
"Not really, but his father is a sweetheart once you get to know him, and he doesn't get out much. Zeke's mum isn't around, so it's either bring him here when he comes out drinking, or leave him with a sitter. And most sitters to refuse to work with Zeke's father."
"Death Eater?" Hermione asked, knowing that expression on Hannah's face too well.
"You got it," Hannah nodded. "Trust me, Zeke needs all the motherly attention he can get. You could play with him all night and his father wouldn't object."
"Because he doesn't care about the kid?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed as Zeke nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, laying his cheek on her shoulder as though revelling in the feel of being cuddled.
"Oh, he cares. He's got his eye on you right now, holding his son. But if you're willing to cuddle him all night, and Zeke permits it, he won't prevent you from doing so. Not unless you look like you might be endangering Zeke or being inappropriate. Which we all know you'd never do."
"Do I want to know who his father is?" Hermione raised one eyebrow.
"Probably. But I'm not going to tell you," Hannah smirked. "Play with him. I know you want to."
Hermione took the drink she'd been offered from Hannah, carrying it in one hand while supporting the small boy with the other. He clung to her tightly, not squirming or whinging, just simply letting himself be held.
"Where would you like to go, little one?" Hermione asked of the boy.
Zeke lifted his head to blink at her before laying it back down without speaking.
"Not a big talker, eh?" Hermione smiled. "Well, that's alright. How's about you and I head on over and talk to Neville? He'll be your Herbology Professor at Hogwarts one day, you know? Won't that be fun? You'll be able to tell stories of that time you were little and you hung out with Professor Longbottom at the pub."
Hermione smiled when the little boy giggled at Neville's surname.
"He does have a funny name, doesn't he? But that's not his fault. And he's lovely. You'll like him, I promise."
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Thorfinn watched the witch cross the bar with Izekiel Lestrange balanced on her hip and a glass of Absinthe in her hand. She hadn't been kidding about the idea of stepping up her drinking to something stronger. That stuff would burn a hole in her gut if she wasn't careful. He was betting it was going to knock her on her arse, too.
Thorfinn smirked to himself as he took another drink, wondering what the odds were that he'd get to take her home, after all. Merlin's saggy Y-fronts, he wanted to. The sight of the petite little witch, her hair beginning to curl out of control, dressed in her pretty party dress, with the small boy propped on her hip was entirely too arousing for his sense of mental stability.
Since his parole, Thorfinn had been dreading the idea of having to knock up anyone, let alone some muggleborn or half-blood witch who would likely only let him get her pregnant during a one-night-stand. He wasn't ready for kids. When he had them, he wanted to raise them right. He wanted them to grow up with a Dad they could be proud of, not a Dad who would land on the front page of the Prophet as a result of being spat on and subsequently fired.
He didn't want to bring a kid into a world where people would hiss at him before being the spawn of a Death Eater. Hell, he'd made his choices and he'd paid for them, but Thorfinn didn't want his kids growing up in the shadow of their father's mistakes, tainted by their blood tie to someone who'd fought for the wrong side and done bad things. If he was completely honest, Thorfinn had thought he'd die a bachelor, without an heir to his name. His fortune would fall to his sister's kids – when the Ministry released it upon his death – and all would be well.
Now, looking at that curly haired little witch who came so sweetly on his cock and his fingers and his tongue, Thorfinn was thinking kids weren't such a terrible idea. Sure, they'd have a dead-beat for a Dad in the eyes of the wizarding world. But if their Mum was someone as well-known and as good as Hermione Granger… well, they wouldn't be spat on, now would they? Mostly because while he'd rip the head off anyone who thought about doing anything like that to his kid, he'd also just seen hard proof that the fiery little witch could hold her own and wouldn't stand for prejudice.
Watching her as she took a seat beside the Longbottom kid, Thorfinn frowned slightly. She shifted Zeke on her lap, arranging him in a way that Thorfinn was thinking the kid was going to fall asleep on her. Hell, if the Longbottom lad knew he was conversing with the son of a man convicted for torturing his own mother and father into madness, it would turn ugly. But Granger seemed right at home with the little boy on her lap. She was good with the kid. Especially for a woman who believed she couldn't have any of her own.
She was chatting animatedly to Zeke, taking his toy from him and inventing some sort of wild game before pulling out her wand and subtly bringing the toy to life. Zeke's peel of laughter at the way the werewolf toy suddenly pounced at him could be heard clear across the pub. Merlin's bollocks, the witch looked like she was having the time of her life.
The longer he watched her playing with the small boy, the more resolute Thorfinn became that he would make her his witch and get her pregnant. Whatever it took.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
"Hermione? Whose child have you absconded with?" Harry asked her sometime later.
Hermione looked over, surprised to find Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and the twins all watching her curiously.
"No idea," she admitted before tickling Zeke's sides once more and delighting in the way he giggled.
"You stole someone's kid?" Ron asked. Hermione felt the hair's on the back of her neck rise simply at the sound of his voice. After what a sod he'd been to her earlier, she was in no mood to even acknowledge his existence.
"His father knows I've got him," Hermine replied.
"You just said you don't know who he belongs to," Ron argued.
"Does that automatically mean that his father isn't watching him?" Hermione countered, her temper flaring.
"Before this devolves," Harry interrupted. "Are you drinking Absinthe?"
"Oh. Yeah," Hermione winked at Harry. "It's good, too. You should try it."
"What were you doing talking to those Death Eater cunts, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione could tell from the look on Harry's face that he was annoyed that Ron was obviously in the mood for a fight. The slur of his words as he spoke suggested that he'd been drinking pretty heavily all night and he was probably still smarting about the goat-related curse Dolohov had inflicted upon him.
"Hey Zeke? What sound to goats make?" Hermione pretended to ignore Ron.
"Baa-aa-aa-aa," Zeke bleated.
"That's right. Goats say Baa-aa-aa-aa. Isn't that funny, Ron? Don't you think that's such a funny sound?"
Hermione looked up at Ron coldly, watching his cheeks and his ears turn crimson.
"Fuck you, you bitch! I knew you were in league with that fucker well before we split!" Ron snarled.
"Easy, mate," Neville said, standing up suddenly at Ron's immediately offensive stance and cold words.
"You know, every time you open your mouth, I find myself thinking all over again about just how pleased I am that I didn't make the mistake of marrying you, Ronald," Hermione said coldly, her voice taking on a steely edge. "You're obviously incredibly thick and feel the need to lash out irrationally at others in an attempt to hide your own short-comings. I've never been in league with Dolohov and the fact that I never fell pregnant with your children is the only bright spot amid the tragic fact that I can't have them at all. In future, I would appreciate it if you'd do me the courtesy of not speaking to me from now on. You've now called me a sloppy whore and a bitch all in one day. You deserved what that curse did to you and you deserve whatever unhappy future I do no doubt is coming for you."
With that said, Hermione got to her feet, intent on stalking away.
"Oh, I deserved it, did I?" Ron snarled. "Well you know what, Hermione? You deserve to be barren. You deserve to suffer the way you do from that fucking curse. You're not fit to be anyone's mother. You're too much of a stuck-up swot with a stick up your arse, always looking down your nose at others as though you think you're so much better than the rest of us just because you're clever. Well clever isn't everything, is it? Especially when you couple it with being frigid, cold-hearted bitch and a sanctimonious slut, to boot."
"Pretty sure frigid and slut don't go together, Ron," George deadpanned, used to seeing his younger brother flying off the handle at his ex-fiancé by now.
"Fuck off, George."
Hermione turned slowly towards Ron, intent on ripping him a new one but before she could, there were suddenly four wands pointing at Ron's throat. Turning quickly, expecting it might be Harry, Luna, Neville and Ginny coming to her defence – or, at the very least, the defence of the small boy in her arms bearing witness to Ron's bile – Hermione blinked in shock to see Dolohov, Rowle, and both Lestrange brothers glaring at Ron hatefully.
"Easy now," Harry said.
"Control your fucking friend, Potter," Rodolphus Lestrange hissed. "Or we'll control him for you."
"What the fuck?" Ron growled. He attempted to knock Thorfinn's wand away from where it was digging into his carotid artery. "Now you're in league with all of them? What? Are you shining their knobs too? Is that it? Hermione Granger, Death Eater Whore."
Harry punched him.
Hermione blinked in surprise as Ron reeled back, colliding with a table and knocking his head against a nearby pillar.
"What the fuck was that for?" Ron demanded.
"Get out, Ron. Fred? George? Can you take him home before he does something else I'm going to make him regret?" Harry asked tightly.
"You always fucking side with her," Ron snapped. "Why the fuck are you always on her side? You know how condescending she is! She just said she's fucking happy she's barren because it meant she didn't have to have my fucking kid! Meanwhile she sits in the bloody pub playing with some stranger's spawn. Probably one of these twisted fuckers."
He waved a dismissive hand towards the ex-Death Eaters still training their wands on him.
"Please, can I kill him now?" Dolohov asked Hermione in a low voice. "I promise I'll do it slow. I'll make him really suffer for being such a cunt to you, Zaichik."
"No one is killing anyone!" Harry snapped. "For fuck's sake."
Harry stomped across the small space between himself and Ron before seizing hold of the idiot by the front of his robes and Disapparating them both with a sharp crack. Hermione shook her head, huffing to herself as the remaining crowd within the bar – which, admittedly wasn't that many people, now that she was looking – all looked in her direction. She got the feeling most of them expected her to cry after Ron had been such a snot to her. The truth was, some of his words might've hurt, but she was long past letting Ronald Weasley's opinion of her affect her self-esteem. Sure, she might go home later and cry into her pillow over his saying she deserved to be barren, but right now, she was too angry and too disgusted with him to even think about crying. Especially in front of so many witnesses.
"What say we get you out of here, Princess?" Thorfinn muttered to her.
Hermione nodded her head.
"Wait, you're actually going with them?" Ginny asked, eyeing the ex-Death Eaters with distaste.
Neville looked like he wanted to hex the Lestrange brothers silly.
"Now you're going to start?" Hermione demanded of the redhead, entirely fed up with Weasleys for the evening. "Your brother is an arse and you're going to give me flack for being on speaking terms with people who aren't flipping Weasleys?"
"Oi, don't lump us in with that idiot," Fred protested. "He's a git. Everyone knows that. We've been claiming he was left on our doorstep since we were tots."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, ickle Ronniekins is a bloody ponce. Don't worry about him, Hermione. And Ginny, shove it. If Hermione wants to associate with ex-Death Eaters, she's entitled."
"Now you're promoting this?" Ginny demanded.
"We do business with half of them," Fred shrugged his shoulders. "They're not all bad."
"Thanks, Weasley," Rabastan Lestrange drawled. He was smirking as he pocketed his wand once more.
"What are you two doing over here, anyway?" George queried curiously. "I mean, Dolohov's got a hang-up, and Rowle's in Hermione's debt for sticking her neck out earlier. But you two have bugger all to do with Hermione."
"No one gets violent in that proximity to my kid without answering to me," Rodolphus answered. He pocketed his own wand once more before holding his hands out to take Zeke from Hermione.
"He's yours?" Hermione asked. She was shocked when the little boy's face lit up and he squirmed in her hold, only too happy to go to his father.
"Don't sound so horrified, witch," Rodolphus winked. "They did stipulate we had to breed to keep our freedom. And I wasn't risking being thrown back into that hellhole."
"You… He's…?" Hermione blinked slowly.
"I know what you're thinking," the dark wizard said. "He's not Bella's. Zeke's three. His mother isn't in the picture. She dumped him on me and ran for it the minute he was born."
Hermione winced sympathetically, watching the way he arranged the toddler on his hip with practised ease. Zeke snuggled right in, closing his eyes and looking like he'd drop right off to sleep on his father's shoulder. Her heart melted, just a bit. The little tyke was adorable and Hermione supposed that if he felt that comfortable in his father's arm, the Lestrange brothers couldn't be all that bad.
"Well, he's a wonderful boy," Hermione offered quietly, smiling gently at the child. Rodolphus nodded his head, puffing up ever so slightly with pride at the praise for his son from a person who had every right to hate him. He didn't say anything else, but he did nod at her in farewell before crossing the bar to where many of the other ex-Death Eaters were all on their feet and looking like they were planning to head out for the night.
Hermione noticed idly that Draco Malfoy had his arm around a dark haired witch and Theo Nott had a witch under each arm, one blonde and one redhead. She didn't recognise any of the three witches, but they looked rather like they were only interested in saying they shagged a 'bad boy'. She rolled her eyes to herself when Theo had the audacity to wink at her.
She startled when the sound of someone inhaling loudly, right by her ear, suddenly drew her attention. Expecting Dolohov, Hermione recoiled violently when she spotted Rabastan Lestrange well inside her personal space.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Thought I knew that scent from somewhere," Rabastan said, a wicked smirk curving his lips. He swaggered away without explanation, patting Thorfinn on the arm as he went. Hermione got the message loud and clear that Thorfinn apparently still reeked of her.
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Well, that was creepy," Neville muttered.
"Bloody weird, that one," George agreed. "Oi, you two going to keep loitering? You're cramping our style."
"Weasley, you wouldn't know style if it bit you on the arse," Thorfinn replied.
"Oooh, not very friendly," Fred laughed. "Heard tell you lost your job today, Rowle?"
"What's it to you?" Thorfinn asked. Hermione's eyes darted between her friends, the man she'd been shagging, and the man who'd been stalking her.
"You want a job?" George offered.
"Yeah, we need someone to acquire some of the more refined ingredients we use in our potions and our tricks," said Fred.
"Someone to procure invaluable items necessary for our craft," said George.
"In other words, some of their stuff is illegal to traffic and they want someone willing to traffic it for them," Hermione clarified.
"You lot trying to get me sent back to prison?" Thorfinn raised one eyebrow before tipping his glass to his lips, apparently confident enough in his ability to maim Ron one-handed that he hadn't put it down when coming to Hermione's defence.
"The things we need aren't illegal," Fred shook his head. "They're just…"
"Unsavoury to acquire by normal means when one has an upstanding reputation within the wizarding community to uphold," said George.
"Unsavoury, eh?" Thorfinn asked. Hermione wondered if he'd be offended by the insinuation that he didn't have an upstanding reputation to worry about.
"It's fine if you're not interested," Fred shrugged. "We'll get our hands on someone else to handle it. Used to do it ourselves, but we've got a kid on the way, see? Doesn't look right, us going on into dangerous territory – dangerous for us, anyway – when we've a pregnant witch worrying herself silly for us at home."
"You need shit from Knocturn Alley, then?" Thorfinn asked.
"And other, less favourable places," George confirmed. "Come by the shop during opening hours tomorrow and we'll discuss it, if you like?"
Thorfinn looked thoughtful for a moment and Hermione wondered if he would take it. When he shot a glance in her direction, those bright blue eyes of his meeting her own brown pair as though he were considering it, Hermione felt her stomach do a somersault.
"Yeah, alright," Thorfinn agreed. He turned back to George and shook his hand before doing the same to Fred. Hermione's stomach flipped again at the idea that the former Death Eater would be working with her friends. That she might potentially run into him more often as a result.
"Excellent," said Fred. "Well, on that note, I'm going home. Coming George?"
"Right behind you, Fred," George agreed. "Hermione, love, sorry Ron's a tosser. Let us make it up to you sometime, eh?"
"Do you have that kind of time?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
Fred laughed.
"For you, we'll make time."
Hermione rolled her eyes and hugged the twins goodbye.
"I should head off too," Neville said. "Gran will be wondering where I am."
Taking that as their cue, everyone else seemed ready to head on home for the night and Hermione sighed as she downed the last of her drink.
"Want me to take you home, Zaichik?" Dolohov offered.
"And have you figure out where I live? Again?" Hermione asked.
Thorfinn laughed.
"You really think he doesn't already know?" he asked.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Hermione grumbled, glaring at Dolohov.
"I'm the best curse breaker in the business," Dolohov told her smugly. "You didn't think a little Fidelius Charm would actually keep me out, did you?"
"It has been," Hermione argued.
"Nah, I just didn't want to scare you now that you're living alone. And there was little point breaking in without the Used Weasel there to torment."
"You're incorrigible," Hermione accused.
"Maybe, but it's growing on you," Dolohov smirked. "Are you coming home with us?"
Hermione's eyes widened at his question.
"Toshka? Fuck off, yeah?" Thorfinn spoke up, looking amused. "She's hardly going to agree to coming home with me if you're the one putting it to her. You're a creepy fucker."
"I wouldn't say creepy," Dolohov disagreed, turning to Thorfinn and frowning. "More like eccentric. Or quirky."
"You're bonkers, mate," Thorfinn corrected.
Hermione shook her head at the pair of them as Dolohov began to explain that he couldn't be bonkers because bonkers people didn't know they were bonkers, that was what made them bonkers. Not willing to be seen leaving the pub with Thorfinn after the type of evening she'd had, Hermione gathered her things, moved to the bar and bid Hannah goodnight before hurrying out the door.
She got all of five meters down the street in Muggle London before a strong arm snagged around her midsection from behind.
"You really going home alone, Princess?" His voice was just a little too familiar in her ear.
"The other option is re-join you in your flat. Where Dolohov will likely want to continue to study the effects of his curse on me during intercourse," Hermione reminded him. "And I'm a little too fried to tolerate his quirks without hexing him."
"We could go to your place," Thorfinn murmured to her, lowering his mouth to the side of her neck and trailing a searing line of kisses against her sensitive skin. "I know you don't want to go home alone. You'll just wallow over what that fuck-face said to you."
Hermione sighed, tipping her head to give him better access. He was probably right. If she went home now she felt tipsy enough that she'd end up thinking herself into a tizzy and she didn't particularly want to do that. Ron wasn't worth the tears she expected would fall as a result of his obnoxiousness.
"You haven't even showered after the last round," Hermione said.
"There's a shower at your place, right?" Thorfinn chuckled.
"You're a bad influence, Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione scolded softly even though a smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"You like it," he replied.
She supposed she couldn't deny that. Twisting in his hold, Hermione went up on her toes and capture his mouth with hers. He tasted like firewhiskey. And he felt like something heady and delicious. Heat flared within her immediately and all notions of further resistance went out the window.
"Hold on to me," she whispered when she pulled back several minutes later, her breath ragged. His wicked chuckle accompanied them as Hermione Apparated them both to her flat.
