When Harry's name came out of the Goblet of Fire in her fourth year she knew everything was going to get so much worse. Harry was like the world's largest trouble magnet. A glance at Marcus's table showed him looking incredibly angry. She knew he wanted to enter the contest but it was decided her was too old to do so as he was already repeating a year. He was really disappointed, he confided in Hermione, that he wouldn't be able to compete or at least try to compete.
Right now he looked as if he would like to rip Harry Potter limb from limb and that was a problem. Hermione knew that Harry didn't enter his name. Honestly she did not even need to ask him for his assurance of this fact. It turned out that she would be one of like three people who believed it.
Marcus was not one of those three and after a massive fight in the hallway outside of the library he stopped speaking to Hermione.
Oh she saw him around. In the hallways and practicing on the Quidditch pitch but they didn't speak. If he did meet her eyes on accident he quickly slid them away like she didn't exists.
It hurt terribly but she needed to help Harry through the tasks.
After the dragon most of the student body believed Harry but a certain tall, dark, and handsome Quidditch player was not among those who believed him.
The Yule Ball made it worse. Where he would just ignore her before he outright glared at her now. She showed up looking amazing (even she thought so) on the arm of an international super star Quidditch player.
Later he would tell her that was the first time he was ever jealous of someone else and who they were with. He was always so focused on Quidditch he never really bothered with worrying about dating or whatever. His father was an old school Pureblood so eventually he would just have a marriage contract so why bother with that. He would tell her while they were wrapped around each other in post-coital bliss that was the first day he ever wanted something someone else had but he couldn't have.
He still didn't talk to her though.
That didn't happen until she was pulled out of the lake by Viktor Krum in the middle of a freezing February Scottish winter. He saw her shaking and half frozen pulled from the water he decided that she was his friend and what Potter did or didn't do to get to compete didn't matter because she belonged to him too.
Friends were a part of each other. At least at the time he didn't take too much time to consider why he was so very jealous of Viktor he just realized that this was not worth losing her from his life for.
They began studying and talking together again. Everything was as it should be.
Until the final task.
When Harry showed back up with the Cup and the body of Cedric Diggory screaming that Voldemort was alive and kicking again Marcus blanched. Dumbledore sent everyone back up to the school and several Slytherin students looked pretty pleased about the possibility. Hermione however was nearly devoid of color.
The next day Marcus would get an owl from his father telling him he was going to receive an honor when he got home that most Purebloods only dreamed about. Marcus went to find Hermione.
Hermione, ever the rule follower, told him he should tell a teacher. This was of course, after she was assured by him multiple times that he had no interest in any such offer. She thought maybe he could go to his Head of House but Marcus was pretty sure he had heard from his father the Professor Snape was a Death Eater at one time. It was part of the reason he wanted his son in Slytherin so he knew he was learning the right things. With that option dismissed they went to see his favorite professor.
Hermione was suprized it was actually Professor Sprout but Marcus was exceptionally skilled at Herbology and it was the teacher would had helped him most with his essays and tests before he got help. Marcus confided that his mother was a Hufflepuff in the same manner someone might reluctantly tell people they were a plague carrier. She would never understand Purebloods and their mindset against Badgers.
Professor Sprout read the letter and talked with Marcus. He was slated to try-out for several of the British Quidditch teams after school but if he stayed he would have to do as his father said. If he left he might have to give up his Quidditch dreams and that was unacceptable to him. Professor Spout told him to focus on his tests and she would take care of the rest. In the end the sweet Professor wrote him letters of introduction to all the American and Canadian Quidditch teams while Hermione drafted a form letter and owled it to every single team she could find in Quidditch magazines.
When he was done with his NEWTS, which he figured he had handled well, he had invitations to try-out for seven American teams and three Canadian teams. Marcus was headed to North America to avoid the upcoming war.
He said goodbye to Hermione out by the Black Lake. He made her promise that she would come find him in America if the war got too hot. He made her promise to send her cousin Rachel to him if he thought she would be a target. This was the woman who helped him learn how to learn after all. He even made sure she promised to send her parents to him if they needed escape.
At the end he was feeling emotional and some what heartbroken to leave his friend behind. That was all she was after all, just a fourth year Gryffindor friend. Nothing else.
He kissed her so sweetly as he left to walk to the village. Just a gentle brush of the lips and a light hug before he left.
The day before the Hogwarts express was set to pull out back towards London he took the floo in the Hogs Head to the edge of Wales and then a Muggle boat ride to Ireland where he caught an international portkey to New York City.
He would not return to British shores until two years after the war was won.
Hermione Granger got up and went inside. She was done reminiscing for the night. She needed some sleep. She took her wine glass into the kitchen for a quick rinse when she noticed that she had finished her second bottle. She could feel it a little bit but she had been drinking so much lately trying to manage her sadness that she barely noticed two full bottles of wine gone.
Well really about one and a half bottles.
For one person.
On a Tuesday evening.
Shit.
She would need some Sobber Up before she went to bed just to make it to work in the morning.
Again.