Chapter Six

It could've been all inside Hermione's head. Maybe she just wanted to hear a growl. When was the last time she made a man jealous? Too long ago to remember. She wasn't exactly the type to inspire such an emotion. Rarely had two men been interested in her at the same time. Her role in ending the war might've made her famous, but it didn't change the fact that she annoyed more than she enticed. Was it too much to hope that part of the reason why Fenrir Greyback watched her from the shadows was because he appreciated her on some level as a woman?

She couldn't believe she was actually hoping the werewolf was attracted to her. What was she thinking? She must've completely lost her mind. Loneliness and too much wine was responsible for those terrible thoughts. When she was sober and back to thinking clearly, she would feel like a fool.

The feel of Iain's lips on the outside of her ear brought back a number of enjoyable memories, temporarily pushing thoughts about the werewolf out of her mind. There wasn't much else she could focus on when she thought about the amusing times she used to have with her ex. Life could be disappointing when it didn't go as one hoped it would. They had explosive chemistry, but lacked far too much outside of it to make for a successful long-term relationship. She knew allowing Iain to follow her down that old, familiar path wouldn't end in happiness. With the thoughts swirling through her mind of what she could expect if she ignored the warning bells, she didn't care if there wasn't a future.

"I've missed you so much, Hermione. Tell me you feel the same way."

She didn't. Not really. If she allowed logic to press through the haze of alcohol and poor judgment, she knew without question that she didn't miss Iain. Missed feeling desirable and wanted? Yes. Missed having a warm body next to her in bed? Of course. Missed having someone she trusted and cared about she could talk to about whatever she was thinking or worried about? More than anything. Missed having Iain back in her life again? Not at all. She only missed the memories and how they once hoped they could be something more than just Sundays spent in bed.

"I think we've had too much to drink, Iain."

Someone had to be the rational adult. Considering her thoughts and actions had been anything but in recent days, Hermione was surprised to be the one to gently push the handsome auror away. Loneliness was never an acceptable reason to hop into bed with another person and if she allowed him to keep whispering in her ear all of the words she longed for him to say three years earlier, that was exactly where they were headed.

"And here I was thinking we hadn't had enough to drink."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a snort at his response. Despite knowing it was another in a long line of poor choices, she accepted another glass from the attentive wizard behind the bar. A little space between the exes helped cool the area considerably. She was going to have to be careful keeping Iain away. Clearly she couldn't be trusted around him.

"You've known exactly where to find me for three years, Proudfoot. You couldn't have missed me that much."

"You don't believe me?"

She smiled as she shook her head. Feigning injured pride, Iain sighed and dramatically allowed his shoulders to fall. She smiled again. He'd always been able to make her laugh. It was a quality about him she once loved. Laughter could help soothe a lot of hurts, but it wasn't a cure for everything. That was a lesson they'd both learned the hard way.

While Iain ordered himself another drink, Hermione took the opportunity to look back to the corner where she'd seen her shadow. Fenrir still continued to watch her, but there was no scowl on his face. No expression other than mild boredom at all. Had she only seen what she wanted to see? No one else in the Leaky Cauldron heard a growl. That was something that wouldn't have gone unnoticed even in the wizarding world. It would've called too much attention to the werewolf most believed to be dead. Why would she convince herself that she'd heard a growl? Did she want him to be jealous of the fact she was there with another man?

"I know that look. It means your brain is working too hard."

Iain's return startled her out of her thoughts. She could be very easy to read at time, especially when she allowed her mind to wander. Catching Fenrir's disinterested eye one more time and still seeing not even the tiniest flicker of jealousy, she turned her full attention back to the auror. Though it was difficult, she tried to push away the disappointment. How unreasonable and illogical could she be around the werewolf? If he knew what she was thinking, he would laugh in her face. Imagining the deep, raspy laugh she heard ten years earlier in Malfoy Manor sent unpleasant chills up and down her spine. Somehow she's been able to separate the wretched, homicidal Greyback with the curious, protective Fenrir. She was asking for trouble if she continued to forget who he actually was.

"I always think too much, Iain. Have you forgotten?"

"No, you don't always think too much. I can think of plenty of times you didn't do much thinking at all."

The flirty wiggle of his eyebrows made her laugh again. She didn't think it was wise to let their thoughts travel back to those days in the past when they both were able to turn off their overactive minds to just feel. There was a reason why she tried to avoid Iain when she saw him around the Ministry. He could be dangerous, a waste of her time. A fun waste of her time, but a waste nonetheless. She started to regret letting him talk her into going out for drinks. It was a bad idea. Lately she seemed to be full of those.

"Seriously, Hermione, what is it?"

"Nothing you need be concerned about. I was just thinking about a particularly difficult case I've been working on."

"Bollocks. If it was about work, you would still be sitting at your desk right now, not rushing out of the Ministry at a normal time."

She hated that he was right. Most people who didn't know her very well would just take her explanation as the truth and never doubt it. Work filled a hole in her life, so they would just assume that that was all she ever thought about. Some days they were right.

"And I suppose you think you know everything there is to know about me?"

"Not at all. You are a very mysterious witch, love. I don't know you half as well as I wish I did."

When he didn't couple his remark with a cheeky wink or another waggle of his eyebrows, she realized he was being completely sincere. The temperature in the room rose and she desired little else than to run out the front door and never look back. Iain was comfortable, safe, but Iain was not her future. She didn't want to lead him on. That wouldn't be fair to either of them. Just because she was lonely and tipsy didn't mean she could be so cruel. As she sipped at her third glass of wine, she tried to think of something plausible to tell Iain besides the truth. At least some version of the truth would keep him satisfied. He could always tell when she lied. It was a valuable skill in his chosen career.

"You must know a lot about security wards, Iain. Aurors must, right?"

"I do know a lot. Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious to know if there's some way to set up a Muggle-repelling ward, but allowed certain Muggles through without dismantling it completely. I'm sure I could find the answer myself if I did some research, but I haven't found the time with all I'm working on."

Iain didn't rush to answer her question. As she continued to ramble she noticed his green eyes narrow ever so slightly. Sometimes being around a competent auror was frustrating. Just like trying to have a friendly conversation with someone after learning they were a psychiatrist by trade, she often felt as if they were analyzing her words and body language. Her ex knew her better than most even if that didn't mean much considering how private she tried to be. It also didn't help remembering him telling her years earlier that she talked too much when she was trying to hide something. Why couldn't he be unobservant like all of the other men had been in her life?

"That's a fascinating question, love. May I ask why you're suddenly so interested?"

"Oh, it's not a sudden interest at all. There have been some break-ins in houses near mine in recent weeks. I'd like to repel all Muggles, but Margaret still pops in at least once a week. Do you remember Margaret?"

An amused grin appeared on his face. Hermione instantly felt nervous. What was it about what she said that made him want to laugh? She sipped nervously at her wine, hoping she was't being as obvious as she was afraid she was.

"Do I remember Margaret? Of course I do. She adored me. Told me repeatedly to make an honest woman out of you."

His wink brought another flush to her cheeks. What a terrible mistake that would've been. Even if Iain hinted a few times before the end of their romance that he was interested in making a more permanent commitment, Hermione knew it would've been a disaster. They both worked too much and despite that, she knew he was ready to start a family. One of them would have to make serious sacrifices in their career to accommodate children and she knew without a doubt that she would be the one expected to do so. Years of resentment and regret stretched ahead of them if they were ever foolish enough to try. She regretted yet again accepting his invitation for drinks.

"Yes, well, I suppose I'll need to make some time to do my own research on wards."

Hermione knocked back the rest of her wine in a single swallow. As she set her glass on top of their table, Iain placed a gentle hand on her forearm. There was no mockery or teasing left on his countenance. The mood between them shifted to being serious, almost tense.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll stop. If you're in some sort of danger…"

"I'm not. I can take care of myself perfectly well, thank you."

"I never said you couldn't. I know you can. You don't need anyone."

She couldn't miss the bitterness in his tone even if it was slight and he tried to hide it. Some day he would find a witch who needed him and Iain would fall deeply in love and hopefully, figure out how to live happily ever after. He was the sort of man who needed to be needed. It was yet another reason they were doomed to failure.

"But if you're worried that your house might be in danger, I can help you set new wards. I'm sure there's one that'll do what you want. I'll ask Savage. He's an expert. He's forgotten more than I've ever learned about wards."

"Thank you, Iain."

Realizing his hand was still on her arm, he gently squeezed it, releasing it a heartbeat later. She appreciated his help even though it bothered her that she had to keep the full truth from him. If Iain knew about the Muggle attacking her in the street and then vandalizing her house, he wouldn't rest until the perpetrator was brought to justice. She couldn't bear the scrutiny or the imposition in her everyday life even if she appreciated his concern. And if he were to find out that Fenrir Greyback was still alive and faithfully following her around? She didn't even want to consider what those consequences would be like.

"And you'll have to forgive me for overstepping, but I'm going to blame my many years of being an auror. I'd feel much more comfortable if you allowed me to come check on your wards right now. Just so I can see if you'll be safe until I can talk to Savage."

"That's not necessary, Iain."

"Of course it's not, but indulge me, please?"

Feeling as if she was some sort of damsel in distress incapable of taking care of herself had always been a sore spot for Hermione. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the instances in her adolescence when she'd been completely powerless to keep herself from harm. With the ending of the war and the constant threat of Voldemort or his Death Eaters attacking and killing her over, she'd gotten used to taking complete care of herself. Allowing someone else in, even in a superficial way as Iain suggested, was harder than it should've been. Her pride had taken a serious hit when she was targeted by the Muggle and unable to save herself.

With a heavy sigh she agreed that he could come check the security wards she'd placed on her home. She decided that it couldn't hurt having another opinion and as much as she tried to convince herself that it didn't, she still felt unnerved and even a little frightened that her home had been breached. And of course she knew how tenacious her ex could be. Iain wouldn't rest comfortably until he could see for himself that she was protected. He was the sort that would randomly show up to check if she didn't offer him an invitation. The chances of him stumbling upon the disturbing fact that Fenrir was still alive and keeping a close watch on her were greater if she didn't know he was coming. Better to get it over with while she still had the illusion of control.

They didn't linger long in the popular tavern once she agreed. Each of them finished their drinks quickly. Iain placed a few galleons on the table to pay the tab. She would've protested him buying if she'd thought it would do any good. Already she knew she'd given him the wrong impression. Alcohol could only be blamed for a small part of her behavior. Mostly she had to admit that it felt good to be desired and wanted again. And if she continued to be honest with herself, she was desperate to know her shadow's reaction to watching her with another man. It was alarming to recognize the seed of disappointment settling in her stomach that Fenrir didn't even seem to care.

She wanted to know his motivations, his reasons for following her around and keeping watch outside of her home, but she was scared to ask. What if she didn't like the answer? Remaining in ignorance for the immediate future seemed to be her best choice. Asking the dangerous man outright could have very serious repercussions she might not be prepared to handle. For one of the first times in her life, Hermione wasn't desperate to seek out the answer. Upsetting the delicate balance that existed between them was best pushed out into the future for another day. Was it wrong to like the comforting feeling of knowing he was watching? Besides, she knew as sure as she knew how to take her next breath that he would never harm her again. How she knew that wasn't important. She just did.

Iain Apparated to the same dark alley she used. Three years might've passed since he'd last been to her home, but he hadn't forgotten how to get there. The cold night air and the squeezing sensation of her own Apparition reminded Hermione how much she'd had to drink. As her legs wobbled and she threatened to tumble over, her ex was there to catch her before she fell. Feeling his gentle touch on her body again tempted her to ignore all of her earlier reservations about giving him the wrong idea. It had been so long and she wasn't looking forward to slipping between her cold sheets alone.

"Do you know which of your neighbors were burgled?"

When it came to a potential investigation, Iain was all business. Once he was satisfied that she wouldn't fall on her face, his entire demeanor changed to how he acted when he was working. The sudden shift of his personality pushed the last of the lingering thoughts of inviting the wizard inside for another drink out of her head. She was being foolish, playing with fire and the explosive temper of another stubborn, proud Gryffindor.

"No, not personally. A couple of houses one street over. Margaret said she saw some suspicious men wandering around after dark."

"Did she call the Muggle police?"

"They weren't helpful. Just thought she was a paranoid, old woman."

The lies were easier to tell the more comfortable she became of the deception. She wanted another opinion about the safety of her home from someone she knew she could trust with her life without having to worry about them knowing the full truth of the Muggle's attack. Iain would do something foolish like insist he stay in her home until her attacker was caught or maybe even drag her back to his Diagon Alley flat. What would happen to her shadow in either of those cases?

"I have a few Muggle contacts I could call on. There's a chief inspector I know who's a squib."

"I don't think that's necessary. Margaret may have been confused, but I want to make sure my wards are effective."

As soon as they reached her front door, Hermione felt Fenrir watching them. She turned her head slowly in his direction to confirm his presence without drawing Iain's attention. A bloody and dangerous duel in the middle of her street was the last thing she wanted. Iain, despite his many years of experience as an auror, could be the 'curse first, ask questions second' type if he felt cornered.

"If you weren't truly worried about someone breaking into your house, Hermione, why did you go to such drastic lengths to keep it protected?"

Iain's chuckle as he tested her home's defenses was a bit more patronizing than she cared for. All she'd done was add the Muggle-repelling ward that he'd been so insistent she add. There might have been some other protective spells she put on the house when she first bought it, but nothing strange or out of the ordinary. As she'd come to realize almost to her detriment, in the absence of Voldemort and his murderous Death Eaters, she'd grown too complacent, too self-assured. Muggles didn't frighten her so there had been no reason to guard against them.

"I haven't seen some of these spells in years. Not since I was in auror training. Did you stumble upon them in one of your dusty, old books?"

Usually his laughter was infectious. Many times in their shared past he'd gotten her to laugh just by laughing himself. But she didn't feel like laughing that night. Lifting her own wand, she checked the defenses herself. All magic carried a trace signature of the one who cast the spell. While it was very difficult to positively identify another's signature without knowing them on a highly personal level, it was very easy for a witch or wizard to recognize their own signature. And she could tell immediately that her home was covered in complex spells that she did not cast. Iain didn't notice anything disturbing about her protections as his continued laughter attested.

"I think I like the one requiring werewolf's blood the most. Did Robert mind you asking for his help? He's always been so sensitive about being one."

Any lingering questions she might've had as to who was responsible were answered. Hermione didn't even bother to try not to draw attention to the man watching from the shadows when she turned again in his direction. Iain didn't notice. Though she couldn't be sure from that distance and thanks to the darkness, she could swear the werewolf was smirking.

"This all looks fine, love. You live in a very protected house, but if you still think you need the special Muggle-repelling spell, I'll talk to Savage tomorrow."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

Hermione forced her attention away from her mysterious shadow. While she didn't understand his reasons for casting the protective enchantments on her home, that wasn't the time to find out. Maybe she didn't even want to know. Iain assumed that Robert was responsible for helping. It was better that he believe that.

Once she stared into her ex's eyes again, the mood between them shifted. Convinced that she wasn't in imminent danger of being robbed or harassed by a dangerous Muggle, Iain was able to relax and stop being an auror. There was still undeniable chemistry when they were close. If there had been more than just that they might've been able to be happy together. Iain was a decadent piece of chocolate cake - delicious and satisfying in the moment, but a steep crash and a hollow emptiness when it was over.

"I've had fun tonight, Hermione."

His fingertips brushed gently up each of her arms. Goosebumps followed in their wake. Just as it had every other time the man touched her, her body responded all on its own. If she shut off her brain and allowed her primal side to take over her logic and good sense, she knew they could squeeze out even more pleasure from the already enjoyable night.

The soft press of his lips against hers should've done the trick of clearing out all of the reservations in her mind. Thanks to the wine she already had lower inhibitions. Not that that was ever required when Iain focused all of his attention on her body. But the feel of the hair rising on the back of her neck prevented her from encouraging the kiss to deepen. She never cared much for performing in front of an audience and even less so for someone whose motivations she didn't understand. Perhaps the growl in the Leaky Cauldron had been all in her head, but she couldn't be certain that her shadow wouldn't make a nuisance if they continued. And for a reason she didn't understand, she didn't want to upset the werewolf or give him any cause to be jealous.

The moment that last confusing thought popped into her head, Hermione felt like an even bigger fool. She hadn't realized that was possible. Her life was in danger of growing too complicated if she allowed any further thoughts humanizing the man she knew to be a monster. Was she really that bored and unsatisfied with her quiet, uneventful life that she would invite that danger in? She should be grateful that she had the chance to survive the violence of her youth long enough to have a boring life. Too many she knew hadn't been so fortunate. Like poor Lavender. Dead at eighteen because of Greyback. Hermione would do well to remember what he was capable of.

Iain was disappointed when she pushed him away, but not surprised. Likely he had similar thoughts swirling around in his own head that he hoped he could ignore to ensure a pleasurable end to their odd evening. To his credit, he didn't even attempt to persuade her to let him come inside. Aurors had to be perceptive to be effective, a fact that always made Hermione question Harry's true talents as an auror. If he wasn't the Chosen One responsible for ridding the world of Lord Voldemort, would he even be capable enough to make it through the first few days of training? She never understood his desire to spend his life chasing Dark wizards. Wasn't a ruined childhood and adolescence enough for him? Surely there was something else more suited to his talents than even more fighting.

"Maybe we could do this again?"

There was a note of hope in his voice that Hermione didn't want to completely quash. He wasn't a bad bloke. Most women would count themselves fortunate to have him wishing to spend another moment with him. Unfortunately for the handsome auror, she wasn't most women. She offered him a smile, but didn't answer his question either way. After he watched her unlock her front door and disappear inside, she could hear him sigh heavily and walk away.

Once she was alone again she desired nothing more than to slip into a hot bath and then crawl into bed. She greeted Crookshanks as she filled up his bowl with dinner. The cat grew more cantankerous the older he got. When she wasn't home early enough to feed him when he liked, he made his displeasure known by loud mewling and turning his back to her. It was a routine she still found amusing no matter how many times she'd been subjected to his anger.

Her interaction with Iain at the front door gave her a great deal to think about as she climbed the narrow staircase to her bedroom. Not about the kiss exactly. Likely that was something that she would dissect in excruciating detail for weeks to come in quiet moments. No, she was more concerned about the enchantments he claimed were protecting her home. Why was Fenrir Greyback so insistent that she erect powerful wards and then go behind her back to do it himself when she ignored his demands? She didn't understand him. Yes, a conversation where she asked him those important questions would have to happen one day. She knew that they couldn't exist the way they were forever. Eventually her curiosity would get the better of her even if it was uncharacteristically dormant at present.

A shadow in her back garden caught her eye as she moved to close the roller blind covering the window in her bathroom. Though he'd been in front of the house when she was alone with Iain, her shadow managed to find his way back to what was becoming his regular spot in the back garden. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she reached for the cord. The goosebumps covering her body at the feel of the creature's gaze at her through the window stopped her in her tracks. Werewolves were known for their excellent eyesight, especially at night. It was what helped them track their prey. And though they might have been human most days and nights of the month, she knew that it was a gift they could take advantage of no matter what form their body took.

She was reckless. She was foolish. She was drunk.

Flipping the switch on the wall to plunge the room into darkness, she knew without confirmation that he could still see her. And she knew that he wasn't looking away. The scarf around her neck fell to the tiled floor without much effort. Her heavy outer robes followed moments later. As she stood in the pitch black where only he could see her, she made a decision she was sure she would come to regret later. In that moment, though, she couldn't be arsed to care. Each button on her jumper was more difficult to unbutton than the one before. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and feel her breathing grow heavier with each second she brazenly removed her clothes. All of the rest had to be removed quickly lest she lose her nerve entirely.

Only a matter of a second or two passed with her standing completely open to his gaze before she reached for the cord to shield her privacy. It was enough, however, to excite her more than anything Iain tried to do in the tavern or at her front door. What did that say about her that she would willingly expose her naked body to the werewolf? She wasn't sure she was ready to find out.