A/N: Written for coyg_81's birthday!

No beta, only Grammarly.

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Summary: Hermione and Thorfinn accidentally show up in matching Halloween costumes and everyone mistakes them as a couple.

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle

Rating: M

Warnings: N/A

Dirty Little Secret

"Well," Ginny said, greeting Hermione at the door to the Leaky Cauldron, "that's one way to announce your coming out." Ginny adjusted the devil horns she had donned as part of her costume while hurrying her inside and shutting the door behind her.

"What?" Hermione looked down at her costume in confusion. In truth, she'd bloody forgotten to get a costume for the annual Halloween party Hannah always threw. She'd dug through her closet and found an old Arsenal jersey of her dad's and paired it with a pair of sleep shorts. Voila, she was a Muggle football player. "I'm missing something," she went on.

"Oh?" Ginny's face lit up. "This is going to be good then."

"And you aren't going to clue me in?" Hermione asked, hanging her cloak by the door and tucking her wand into her wrist holster. It was ungainly with the short sleeves of the soccer jersey, but she had nowhere else to put it.

"Oh, hell no," Ginny replied, grinning widely. "You're in for a treat though." She patted Hermione's shoulder, then gave her a slight push into the crowded pub.

Seemingly everyone she knew was there from Hogwarts classmates to people she fought in the war to colleagues. She even spotted Arthur and Molly in a corner booth regaling some of the older Ministry workers with an uproariously funny story, judging by the hoots and cackles coming from that direction.

"Hermione!" George shouted upon seeing her. He had all the accoutrements of a Muggle clown, though none of the makeup. "Look at you! I had no idea you two were a couple! What a way to announce it, eh?"

"Me and who?" Hermione asked, but George must not have heard her over the din because he just gave her a hug and moved off, squirting the flower on his lapel at someone behind her.

She continued through the crush, intent on getting to the bar and getting a drink in her hand as swiftly as possible. Perhaps the mystery would reveal itself by then.

"'Mione," Ron said tightly, grabbing her arm and attempting to pull her to the side. He was in a Chudley Cannons Quidditch Kit, complete with a Keeper's helmet.

"Hi Ron," she replied, trying to pull her arm from his grasp, but he was unrelenting.

"How could you?" he asked, his voice clearly hurt, even over the noise of a dozen conversations and the music blaring.

"How could I, what?" Hermione asked, completely bewildered. She and Ron had broken up a year ago to the day.

"Come in a couples costume!" He tossed up his hands in exasperation. "Isn't that why we broke up? I wanted to go to the party last year in a couple's costume and you refused. And then you dumped me. I get that we're probably better off as friends, but Godric, Hermione. This is cold even for you." He glared at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I...wha…" she trailed off and shook her head. "I'm not here with anyone," she said finally. "This isn't a couple's costume. This is a 'I forgot to get a costume' costume. And my refusal to wear a couples costume last year was just a symptom of the actual problems in our relationship."

"And now you're lying about it. Merlin, Hermione," he shook his head, gave her one last disgusted look, and moved back through the crowd.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Hermione muttered to herself under her breath and continued on toward the bar.

Thankfully, nobody else accosted her, though, by her count, that was most of the Weasleys present.

She finally shouldered her way to the bar where Hannah was slinging drinks as fast as the orders were coming in. She brought Hermione a gin and tonic with extra limes before she could even order her usual.

"Cheers, Hannah!" she shouted as the barmaid twirled away to get another drink order out. Hermione placed the requisite sickles in the jar that popped up onto the bar before her. It turned green and disappeared. She smiled at the sight. It was a nifty little innovation she and Hannah had worked up a few months ago and she was pleased to see it was still going strong. Taking a fortifying sip of her drink, she turned to face the raucous party behind her. There was still the mystery of who she was supposedly dating. What had they all said? Couple's costume, right? So she was looking for someone else in an Arsenal jersey. The crush of people was too much, she could barely tell what anyone was dressed as.

Sighing, she finished her drink and set it back on the bar behind her. A moment later, Hannah had been by to refill it again and Hermione dropped her coins into the jar. Before she could turn back to the party though, she felt someone at her back and lean over her head.

"'Nother round for the table in the back, love," the man said to Hannah who had appeared at his approach. Hannah nodded, gave Hermione a tiny smirk, and began filling drink orders, placing them on a tray.

"Hope this is okay," the man said, he now had an arm on either side of her, almost protecting her from the crush. "Especially since it seems everyone thinks this is our coming out party."

Hermione choked at that and whipped her head around, coming face to face with Thorfinn Rowle. He was grinning and gave her a cheeky wink, then slowly dragged his eyes down toward her jersey. Hermione did the same and had to admit that he filled out his Arsenal jersey rather well.

"A Muggle football player?" Hermione asked. "Whatever possessed you?"

Thorfinn shrugged. "I took a liking to the sport after the mandatory Muggle Studies course we had to take. Arsenal seemed to be the best in the league, so…"

"They are the best," Hermione replied definitively, almost reflexively. "Have you been to a game?"

"A few," Thorfinn responded. "I take it they're your team too?"

Hermione nodded. "My dad's, really, but I catch games with him on occasion. I haven't really kept on top of it this season though. Work has kept me bloody busy."

"Here you are," Hannah said, placing the last drink down on the tray and sliding it across to Thorfinn. He dropped his coins in the jar and gave Hermione one last smile.

"Sitting in the back with a few of the others, if you find yourself needing a break from this crush," he said, giving her another wink. Then he pushed away from the bar with the tray held high and made his way through the crowd. Hermione watched him, he was almost a head taller than everyone else and easily made his way back to a table that she could see included Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange. She was not particularly interested in spending time with that crowd. She hoped to spend the evening with her friends from Hogwarts, but considering she'd already angered Ron, and hadn't seen Harry anywhere the night could end up being a bust.

An hour later, and the nonappearance of Harry, coupled with almost a dozen more people assuming she was there with Rowle changed her mind. She slowly made her way across the room, which wasn't easy considering how short she was compared to everyone else.

Finally, she made it to their booth and collapsed into an empty spot across from Rowle and next to Dolohov. "I think a hundred more people have arrived since I got here," she complained, snagging a shot on the tray at the center of the table and downing it in one go.

"Well, Granger came to party," Dolohov said, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leering down at her.

"No," Hermione said, pushing him away with a scowl.

Rowle snickered and Lestrange howled at Dolohov's affronted expression. When he tried to put his arm around her again, Hermione stood up with a scowl and rolled her eyes. She was about to head back through the crush and go home, but Rowle grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

"I'll protect you from Dolohov's wandering hands," he said into her ear. She shivered as his warm breath slid across her neck.

"What about your wandering hands?" Hermione asked, shifting her weight to get more comfortable.

"I'll keep them in sight as long as you want me to," he promised. "Though, I have a feeling you won't want me to for long," he added, just for her.

Dolohov was still scowling across from them, and Lestrange had laughed himself into a coughing fit next to Rowle.

"We'll see about that." Hermione frowned. She had been trying very hard not to end up in Rowle's bed. Again. It was a slightly hilarious coincidence that they had come dressed in the same jersey. While she didn't consider Rowle her dirty little secret, she was pretty sure she was his. Except, as she looked around at his friends, neither seemed to mind all that much. Rowle's lap was remarkably comfortable, and he was warm and solid as she leaned against his chest.

"Perhaps," Rowle replied, smiling down at her. "Comfortable?"

"I am," she replied, sighing and closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She knew where this was headed, but found that she didn't actually care that much. She liked sleeping with Rowle. Why should she bother to hide it?

"Your turn to get drinks, 'Tonin," Rowle said, his voice rumbling through her. She drifted for a bit in a buzzed haze as Dolohov grumbled about having to move through the crowd to the bar. Dolohov was gone for long enough that Hermione may have actually slipped into a true doze. Rowle rubbed her back as he and Lestrange spoke in low tones.

"I brought water for Granger," Dolohov said, waking Hermione from her doze.

"Not that drunk, just tired. It's been a long week," Hermione muttered around a yawn, but reached for the water glass anyway.

"Maybe we should get out of here before you actually fall asleep?" Rowle suggested, refusing the beer Dolohov brought. He was looking at her with true concern in his eyes and it shocked her to realize that she liked that he was concerned for her. She… her brows furrowed. Did she like Rowle for more than what they did in bed? It wasn't something she was prepared to admit to herself, but seeing the worry and concern looking down at her, made her chest feel warm with an emotion she wasn't confident she could name.

"Too far, this is cozy," Hermione replied, leaning her head back on his shoulder. Perhaps she was drunk, and that was the reason her chest felt warm. Rowle's arm tightened around her back as he sighed heavily. She could hear him talking to Dolohov and Lestrange, but the bar was noisy and she was too comfortable to focus on the words.

A bright light flashed before them, making Hermione flinch, even with her eyes closed.

"I fear we may have been found out," Rowle's voice rumbled through her. She opened her eyes to see the back of Dennis Creevey as he made his way through the crowd with his camera held high.

"Circe," Hermione swore. It wasn't because of the photo, though she knew that was going to cause problems with her friends, it was more that she really had been close to sleep and the flash had awakened her quite rudely.

"Well," Rowle said, stiffening beneath her.

Hermione muttered a curse under her breath. "I was asleep, and now I'm not. You know how much I prize my sleep. I don't care about the damned picture. And I don't care what my friends think about us."

She turned to look up at him, finding his piercing blue gaze inscrutable.

"Us?" he questioned.

Hermione lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Us. You and me. Whatever it is we're doing. I don't care if people know. You're not my dirty little secret, Rowle. I understand if I was yours, bu—"

He cut her off by swooping down and pressing his lips to hers. As ever, the hairs of his beard scratched her chin, but she didn't care. There was something primal about kissing a man with a beard and she loved it.

"Us," he whispered, "I like the sound of that."

"Good," she replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him again.

Lestrange whooped again.

Dolohov coughed, "Get a bloody room."

Hermione ignored them both. It felt so right being wrapped in Rowle's arms that she didn't want to leave them anytime soon. How had she just realized that tonight? She enjoyed spending time with him. Rowle was funny, thoughtful, and kind. She'd been blind to have not seen it before.

"I do have a room for the night," Rowle murmured as he pulled away to kiss along her jaw and throat. "Upstairs," he clarified. "Figured me or one of those two hellions might need a place to sleep it off that didn't involve more than climbing a set of stairs."

She shuddered as his words skittered across her skin. "Yes, let's go upstairs."

Rowle moved her off of him and nodded a goodbye to his friends. Lestrange was still whooping and cheering. Dolohov had buried himself into his beer again. With Rowle leading them, moving through the crowd was much easier. His large hand engulfed hers as he tugged her along behind him. In less than half the time it took Hermione to cross the room earlier, Rowle was already guiding them up the stairs. Even if all they did was sleep, they cleared the air between them. Nobody was a dirty little secret and neither of them cared who saw them disappear into the Leaky Cauldron's upper floor together.

~Fin~