Summary: Business is booming at Hermione's new flower shop inside a ski resort owned by the elusive Lord Voldemort and sparks fly when she starts a YouTube channel with professional skier Tom Riddle to increase publicity for the lodge. Meanwhile, two elite assassins are operating out of the area and competing for jobs. What happens when Voldemort decides to hold a ball and an avalanche traps all of the guests and there is only one bed? Will Molly Weasley be able to solve the murder of Igor Karkaroff?
A/N: This story is several chapters ahead on AO3. A big thanks to Ciule, Nerys, and SerpentInRed for their help and support! That said, no one has beta read this story so all mistakes are my own.
Chapter 1: Coreopsis Arkansa
Many people would have thought a ski lodge to be a poor place to open a flower shop, but business was going shockingly well. In fact, Hermione was working overtime. The mysterious owner of the ski lodge, who was only known as Lord Voldemort (a rather pretentious title, if she did say so herself), had decided to hold a Winter Ball and invited an eclectic assortment of guests. The regency theme of the lodge would lend itself well to such a formal occasion and demanded many floral arrangements, not to mention the corsages and boutonnieres for all of the party-goers.
It also helped that Lord Voldemort took a hands-off approach to the lodge and let professional skier Tom Riddle manage the day-to-day operation. As far as Hermione was concerned, Tom was the perfect man. Tom was beautiful to the point of being intimidating and his face looked as though it had been sculpted by a Greek god. He was such a skilled skier that he'd won a gold medal at the Olympics and his fans referred to him as "the wizard of the slopes." But more than that, he was intelligent and they frequently discussed classic literature together. She'd never met anyone so handsome who also enjoyed academic pursuits as much as she did. Even though she didn't like being on camera, she'd jumped at the opportunity when he asked her to cohost a YouTube channel for the lodge with him because it was an innocent excuse to spend more time with him.
She looked up from the corsage she was making when the bell for the shop door rang. She hoped that it would be Tom, there to discuss arrangements for the ball. It wasn't. It was her co-worker, Neville. His passion for botany surpassed her own and he was highly knowledgeable about the local flora. Sometimes she thought he would have been a better choice for the YouTube channel, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Hello, Neville. I thought you were off this afternoon," said Hermione, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.
"I do, but Mr. Riddle just came and asked me if I could switch with you. He said something about some last-minute changes he has to make before the guests arrive. He wants you to meet him in the breakfast room."
"Oh, I'll be right there then. I've been checking things off of the order list as I go so it should be no trouble for you to pick up where I left off." With a spring in her step, she put down what she was doing and hurried out of the shop.
When she arrived, Tom was staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. His cream, hand-knit Aran sweater contrasted nicely with his silky, raven locks.
"Thank you for coming, Hermione. I hope you don't mind that I pulled you away from your work." He turned to face her and she was struck by the seriousness of his expression. "You see, it seems that our employer made an error in his calculations for the guest list and overbooked the lodge. He's given your room to a guest so you'll be staying with me for the week. Dobby needs to clean the room in time for the guests to arrive in the morning, so you'll need to move your things now."
Her brow furrowed as she tried to process the information. "What do you mean I'll be staying with you?"
"Don't worry, my suite has plenty of room for both of us."
"I suppose I'll go pack then." She hadn't realised that his suite had two beds, but then again she'd never seen it before and it was larger than all the other rooms.
"Thank you for your understanding. I do apologise for the booking error." Just as she was about to leave, she almost thought she saw the corners of his mouth turn up into a shadow of a smile. "I'll come assist you."
The two walked to her room in an amicable silence. Thankfully she hadn't brought most of her belongings with her and all of her clothes fit in two large suitcases. Tom's room was on the other side of the lodge and being able to move everything in one trip would make things easier.
She cocked her head to the side when she noticed Tom putting all of her books in boxes. He must have misinterpreted her expression because he merely told her that he knew how she organised her books and would re-shelve them properly.
The walk to his room was equally quiet. As much as she enjoyed their conversations, there was also something nice about the peaceful silences between them. They spent many an evening reading by the fire together.
When they first arrived, her breath was taken away by the luxury of the room. There was a splendid array of Victorian furniture and the four-poster bed looked cosy and inviting. The four-poster bed. Singular. She looked around the room in confusion. There was only one bed and no couch, just two armchairs on either side of the fireplace.
"Where am I sleeping?" she asked cautiously.
"We're adults, aren't we? I'm sure we're both capable of behaving ourselves," Tom replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Surely he doesn't mean for us to share a bed?
"I'd hate to impose. I can set something up on the floor if I just—"
"No," he replied without hesitation. "I won't have you sleeping on the floor. I already told you that there's plenty of space for both of us." His tone brokered no room for argument and his lips tightened to a thin line, then he turned away from her and started putting her clothes away in an empty dresser. Since it would be such a short stay, she'd been planning on living out of her suitcases to keep things simple but decided to follow his lead and opened the other suitcase. She didn't wish to anger him when he was already subjecting himself to such a major inconvenience by allowing her in his room.
By the time she finished putting away her clothes, he'd already put all of her books on the empty shelves in exactly the order they'd been in before, as promised.
Tom had initially been skeptical of the idea of opening a flower shop in his ski lodge, but his friend Abraxas had assured him that it would set his lodge apart from the rest and draw in more visitors. So far, this had proven to be true. Business was booming and it was their busiest season in years.
Part of his motive had been selfish, though. When he met Hermione, the young woman who would be running the shop, he'd instantly been taken with her. Her wild and curly hair reflected her fiercely independent personality and it was easy to get lost in the warmth of her whiskey-coloured eyes. She was the most beautiful and alluring woman he'd ever met, but he was far more attracted to her mind. No woman had ever been worthy of his time before. She was special and wooing her would be a delicate task.
Another factor increasing business was their YouTube channel. While Tom was generally opposed to social media of any kind, Abraxas has insisted that it was necessary for any business in this day and age. But when his friend mentioned that shows with two hosts can attract more attention, Tom saw a window of opportunity. He'd enlist Hermione to do the channel with him and then she'd have to spend more time with him. They discussed various aspects of the local landscape and history, as well as the recreational activities offered at the lodge. However, as often happened in their discussions, a disagreement about a minor detail could spark a broad academic debate. Their viewers seemed to enjoy it when this happened, so he never edited them out even if they did feel tangential.
He would never admit to reading the comments on their videos, but he did. And according to their YouTube subscribers, it was possible that she did return his feelings to some degree so forcing her to spend more time with him would speed things along. Some of them were emotionally invested in their relationship and called themselves HermiTommy shippers, a portmanteau he found particularly cringe-worthy (the concept of a portmanteau at all seemed rather pedestrian to him and anyone calling him "Tommy" was a surefire way to shorten their lifespan). Despite his generally low opinion of any stranger on the internet, their attitude gave him added confidence.
Overbooking the lodge had been a stroke of genius on his part. Even if it didn't go as far as he wanted, getting her into his bed in any capacity would be a victory. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he prepared his suite for her to move in. His plan was finally falling into place. He brought in an empty dresser and an empty bookshelf so there was space for her personal library. He'd even had the couch removed from his bedroom so she couldn't try to sleep there instead. Even though he knew she was only trying to be polite, Hermione's suggestion that she could sleep on the floor had angered him. The floor was no suitable place for his future wife.
The truth was that Hermione also had an ulterior motive in her choice of location for her burgeoning business. The flower shop was really more of a passion project due to her love of botany, but it wasn't her primary source of income. No, Hermione made most of her money as an elite assassin. Recently, she had been losing jobs though. According to her handler, Augusta, a new assassin had appeared on the scene out of nowhere and had skills that rivalled her own. While she had been unable to get a name or description, the formidable old woman had been able to determine that they were based in the Swiss Alps. She had met her handler, who also happened to be Neville's grandmother, after accidentally discovering that Longbottom Botanicals was also a front for international arms smuggling.
In some ways, killing became as much of a passion for Hermione as botany. The inner workings of the human body fascinated her and thinking about all the ways she could manipulate it was like a puzzle. Each new kill was a challenge and coming up with new ways to kill people without detection was much more mentally stimulating than plants. Augusta Longbottom had proven to be a wonderful mentor and they bonded over the fact that she had killed her husband and Hermione had killed her ex-boyfriend. It was encouraging to see a woman in a high position of authority in a field so many considered to be male-dominated.
Getting her most recent target had been a relief because she didn't like that another killer was encroaching on her territory. His name was Igor Karkaroff and he was a high-ranking Russian official. However, according to Augusta, the hit may have also been offered to her rival so she had to act quickly. Thankfully, Karkaroff would be attending the ball so she had the perfect window of opportunity. She could only hope that the other assassin wouldn't also be in attendance.
That evening, she shared an uneventful dinner with Tom, Neville, and Dobby, as well as Abraxas Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, the only guests already present at the lodge. She liked that the lodge had a friendly atmosphere and that everyone dined together (even though something about the Russian made her uneasy). It had taken her mind off her anticipatory anxiety about what was coming that night. But the truth was that she was head-over-heels in love with Tom Riddle and the idea of sharing a room with him but not in the way that she wanted made her stomach hurt. It was obvious that he didn't, and never would, return her affections. Someone like him would never be interested in someone like her.
She nervously toyed with the hem of her lacy black nightgown before taking a deep breath and climbing into bed. The very thought of being in such close proximity to him was both intoxicating and nerve-wracking.
Hermione's heart stopped when Tom stepped out of the bathroom. Her eyes travelled from his chest down past his chiseled abs to the faint trail of hair vanishing into his plaid, flannel bottoms. She blushed when he smiled at her and hoped he hadn't noticed her staring. Of course he sleeps without a shirt. This was going to be the longest week of her life.
When he had climbed into bed next to her, the large four-poster bed suddenly felt much smaller and she was aware of every inch of space between them. Tom was propped up on one elbow, staring at her. He was both much too close and much too far away and she wanted nothing more than for him to reach out and hold her. But that would never happen. She sighed.
"Are you comfortable? Do you want more blankets?" He looked genuinely concerned about her comfort and Hermione felt her heart melt just a little bit more. "I can get you more blankets."
"I'm fine, Tom, but thank you."
"Goodnight, Hermione." He stared at her a moment longer in a way that left her feeling exposed before leaning back to switch off the lamp.
"Goodnight, Tom." She turned to face the wall but could feel his eyes on her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
