Surprise!Look at me, a Christmas pressie all for you! Extra chapter today because it is better to give than to receive sometimes. Also, this one includes Marcus!
Chapter 8: The Meet Cute?
On his next day off, Marcus received a note from Lestrange telling him Granger was unexpectedly there debating magical theory with his brother and Yaxley. He changed into workout clothes and hurried over. Lestrange admitted him with an odd look. "Dueling is just a cover story."
"Sure, but Granger will see through it if I don't dress and look like I've been working hard. And several people consider you and your brother top duelers. I would like pointers. Just don't work me into the ground, or I can't be sociable."
"Fair enough." Forty minutes later sweat trickled down his forehead and Marcus huffed. "Is this what you had in mind?"
"Pretty much."
"Good. Clean yourself up, Yaxley just left, she's alone in the library."
A scorify later Marcus stood watching her read from the doorway. The years had been good to her. At fifteen entering Yule Ball, she had been beautiful. Now, she was breathtaking. Suddenly he didn't want to introduce her to Montague or Pucey. Both pretty boys were closer to her age and suave. "Can I help you with something, or did you come to gawk, Mr. Flint?" she asked without looking up.
"I admit the view is stunning, but I did come to speak with you."
"The ordered charm offensive has begun," she quipped.
"Huh?" he looked confused.
"You weren't told to come be charming and win me over?" she looked skeptical.
"Look, Granger, I got my teeth fixed and grew into my features, but no one is going to accuse me of being charming."
"No one ordered you here, or strongly suggested you come?"
"Nope, Rab told me you were here. Said if I couldn't be civil to stay away. Apparently, he likes you more than me."
"Then why are you here?"
"My dueling skills aren't the sharpest. Rab is giving me pointers. At least that's what he says he's doing."
"He isn't helping?"
"Oh, he is. He also trounces me. Every. Time."
"That explains your presence at the Hall, why are you in the library?"
"Because you are." He crossed over to her and sat across the table from her. "I've wanted to thank you for years. You didn't have to help me all those years ago. And you really did. So, thank you. And I apologize for Draco's lack of manners."
"You don't have to apologize for Malfoy."
"I could have defended you."
"I understood why you didn't, and couldn't."
"Still, I appreciated the help."
"You're welcome." She settled back in her chair. "If we're going to assume we're old acquaintances, how have you been?"
"Decent. I still play for Falmouth, three years now."
"Wife? Girlfriend? Little Flints running around?"
"Why you offering?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"No, we've only reconnected. I'm flying through the banal chit-chat."
"In that case, no wife, no girlfriend, quidditch keeps me busy, and other duties," he trailed off.
"Yet, you remain unmarked."
"The League won't allow players to get tattoos of any kind. And the Dark Lord wishes for me to continue playing."
"And you're okay with not being marked?"
"He says we wait, so we wait."
"Pragmatic of you."
"So, what about you? Boyfriend? Pets? I assumed you wouldn't leave a child behind."
"No boyfriend anymore. And I have a familiar, Sir Hiss."
"What happened to your cat?"
"I left him with the Weasleys, I assume they set him out by now and he's either deceased on enjoying the feral life."
"Cynical of you to assume they abandoned your familiar after a few months."
"I've learned to expect the worst from people."
"You and the youngest Weasel were attached at the hips. I always thought he fancied you myself."
"Keeping tabs on me?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, "Apparently I did. Who knew?"
She laughed, "I don't think I'm offended. I'll let you know if that changes."
"Thanks, I'll need the head start." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm here for dueling help. Rab mentioned how more skilled his other pupil is." She looked at him blankly. "He meant you."
"Ouch," she winced, "ranked worse than a school dropout and a Gryffindor."
"I never seriously bought the school rivalry. Gryffindors can be kind, Hufflepuffs can be cruel, Ravenclaws can be brave, and Slytherins can be smart. My mate, Peregrine Boles heard from Yaxley about your glamours items. He's excited to pick your brain."
"What about blood status?"
"I admit without the Dark Lord vouching for you, most of them would be more standoffish. But Lord Voldemort wishing to associate with you means the rest of us can follow." He gave her a crooked smile.
She frowned, "What do you want from me?" she asked bluntly.
"Before I walked in here? To thank you and renew your acquaintance."
"And now?"
"Thank you, renew your acquaintance, and see if you share my spark of interest."
She tried vainly not to blush, which he enjoyed immensely. "We'll see what happens."
"Fair enough. Can I give Peregrine the hope of any kind of contact any time soon?"
"Let's see if you can stand me in a few weeks."
He chuckled, "Okay." He rolled his eyes, "Would you like to arrange another meeting, or hope the universe brings you back to me?"
"Do you want to?" Hermione cringed at the nervous waver to her voice.
"Fuck yes." She looked surprised. "Why are you surprised? Everyone who has met you raves about you, making anyone who hasn't, want to."
"Um, Rodolphus and I are going to start looking at transfiguration curses Friday. We could meet here for a while."
"I finish practice around five."
"Perfect."
"It's a date." He grinned when she flushed with pleasure at his wording. "I look forward to Friday." Giving in to an impulse, he took her hand like he watched Adrian and Graham do so often. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. "Until then."
She nodded, "Until then." She watched him exit the library. After staring at the book in front of her for five minutes in a stunned fog, she closed the book and made her way back to her room at Malfoy Manor.
Sir Hiss greeted her, "Have a good day?"
"I suppose, it was confusing at the very least. I hadn't been friendly with Flint in years, for lots of reasons. But today, he flirted with me. I think I liked it. I might even flirt back next time. Not that I have much experience."
Sir Hiss regarded her from his place coiled on the bedspread, "Human companionship does seem important. Nagini mentioned it."
"So glad you have someone to gossip with."
"It is nice."
"Is that your way of expressing disapproval with my plan to seclude us on a private island?"
"You mean run away?"
"Not my fight anymore. And while they betrayed me, I don't think I could fight against my former friends, at least some of them."
"Even if you discovered they hated you?"
"I don't think I care enough. But that's a dilemma for later. The Death Eaters are behaving for now. In a few months, they might change their tune."
"And if they do not?"
"A bridge we cross then," she retorted ending the discussion.
Two days later, Friday evening, Hermione sat in the Lestrange library reading, trying to pretend she wasn't watching the clock. The history book in her hands discussed traditions that had fallen out of use. She skimmed surrogacy bonds and blood adoptions, in favor of moving onto inheritance customs.
Marcus watched her nibble on her bottom lip as she struggled to concentrate, "Knock, knock." He had contemplated coming straight from practice but decided it might send the wrong message. No matter how tempting the idea of seeing her reaction to his uniform might be. He rapped his knuckles against the door frame to get her attention as he spoke. He smiled at her noting the flash of relief on her face. "Am I interrupting? I can wait."
"No, this is a bit of light reading."
"If this is light reading, what does heavy reading look like?"
"Cramped handwritten pages with fading ink."
"That would be heavy." He sat next to her on the sofa.
Hermione noticed how solid Marcus felt sitting next to her. Everything about him seemed large. She felt her body tingle everywhere his body made contact with hers. She felt the room warm. "Are you meeting Rabastan today?"
"Nope, I'm all yours."
"All mine?"
"Just have to return me in a pristine state by 10 pm on Sunday. Quidditch players in training have bedtimes."
"You must take training seriously," she said thinking of late night common room gatherings.
"Very."
"That's refreshing."
"Have you had dinner?" he asked changing the subject.
"Not yet, are you hungry?"
Marcus chuckled, "After practice? Usually. What are you in the mood for?"
"Well, our options are pretty slim, ask Flint elves or ask Malfoy elves."
"Short leash?"
"No, but everyone still thinks I'm off with Ron and Harry. I'm still officially Public Enemy #2. Oh, Merlin did that chap Ron's arse. Not #1, obviously, but not even #2."
"He's a pureblood. Mudblood trumps blood traitor any day. He's lucky he's that high."
"Only because he would lead them straight to Harry. And Harry would do anything to save him."
"Sorry about the m-word," he looked embarrassed.
Hermione waved him off, "That word lost its power years ago. Back to your question, I'm only limited by the fact that I dislike the idea of not going out as myself."
"I understand. You give your good-byes while I collect takeaway from the Leaky. Then we'll pop over to Flint Tower unless you would be more comfortable at the Manor."
"Counter suggestion, I pop us into Muggle London, we grab takeaway, then you pop us to Flint Tower. Still give us privacy and unchaperoned feel, which is what I assume you were going for."
"Sounds perfect. Am I dressed okay?"
"For fifteen minutes collecting food? You should be fine."
He stood and offered her his arm, "Shall we?"
"What kind of food do you like? Any allergies?"
"No allergies. I'll eat just about anything."
After a brief internal debate, Hermione decided to introduce Marcus to pizza. It would be the least amount of culture shock. Taking his arm, she apparated to an
alley and lead the way to her parents' favorite pizzeria. Suspecting Marcus ate as much as a male Weasley she ordered one large with everything except anchovies, one large pepperoni, and one large cheese, as a safety in case he hated all the toppings. "Okay, they should be ready in about 20 minutes." she pointed to a corner table at the far end of the half full dining room. "We'll be over there," she told the counter worker.
Once they were seated Marcus looked curiously, "What was that card you just used?"
"A debit card, it links to my bank account, that way I don't have to carry around huge bags of money."
"Like a checkbook from Gringotts?"
"I have one of those for the muggle bank. More like a tab shops send directly to the bank monthly."
"The food smells amazing. What are we having?"
"Pizza: a bread crust, tomato sauce, cheese, and toppings."
"Mmmm, maybe not everything muggle is bad."
"It isn't, but we are better off staying separate."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do tell?"
"Most muggles wouldn't hurt us, but some would. Some would expect us to fix everything and be angry when we couldn't. And some wizards would take advantage of muggles, or abuse them," she sighed. "It would help the wizarding world did a better job welcoming muggleborns. The last magic in our families had been generations ago. We know nothing."
"Muggleborns have magical ancestors?"
"Usually generations past, but yes. They descend from squibs."
"Do you know yours?"
"Yes." He started to say something but the counter clerk waved a stack of pizza boxes at her. "Maybe someday I'll show you. Don't worry, no Flints on there." Taking a deep breath for courage, she rolled her hips as she walked to the counter. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Marcus stared, his mouth agape, surprised, but appreciative.
Two and a half pizzas later, they reclined on Marcus's enormous bed, the remnants of dinner between them. "You are teaching the house elves how to make those. They love learning new recipes, and I love pizza."
"I don't know many house elves. Are yours happy with you?"
"Their magic comes from having families, or large groups, to take care of. Yeah, some people are arseholes to them, but most elves are happy." She smiled. "Alright, my turn for questions. Why did you leave Potter and Weasley?"
The smile slid from her face. She took a deep breath and blinked back her tears. "Um... I don't...uh, that is," she hugged herself tightly, looking down at her lap.
Ignoring the pizza boxes, Marcus leaned across and took her hand. "Hey, look at me." Once she raised her head, he continued, "You don't have to talk about it right now. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to. Someday, when if you do, I'll know it is because you wanted to tell me." She nodded. "So, less heavy question, what is Bellatrix in a hissy about?"
Hermione chuckled, "Before his disappearance and her incarceration, Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort were lovers. When Voldemort declined to offer for her, the Blacks married her to Rodolphus. They've always disliked one another, so he didn't much care where she spent most of her nights. The Lestranges added a clause that they could divorce as soon as Bellatrix produces an heir, or at least they can go their separate ways."
"They lost a lot of childbearing years to Azkaban."
"Exactly, Rodolphus forbade her to step out of the marital bonds until she produces said heir. Any time she complains, or rages, he reminders her all she has to do is fulfill her end of the martial agreement."
"How do you know all this?"
"Rodolphus told me," she giggled. "Darling Bella also hates how much time I spend with her lover and her husband. She suspects she's been replaced somewhere, but she's not sure where."
Marcus felt his stomach drop at the idea of either of the older wizards having claimed the younger witch's affections that way. "Are you?" he asked harsher than he intended. Internally he winced.
Hermione's eyes narrowed. She cocked her head to the side, observing him, "Are you jealous, Mr. Flint?" her tone teasing.
"And if I am, Miss Granger?"
"You don't need to be. I admit to being fond of Roddy, but not that way. And I am ambivalent about your dark lord. And, I am rather fond of you. Fond enough that I think you should start calling me Hermione."
"Only if you call me Marcus." By the end of the night, Marcus was well on his way to completely smitten. During the witty repartee and easy conversation she never made him feel dumb. She laughed at his jokes, made some of her own. As the evening lengthened they ended laying side by side, heads on the same pillow, atop his quilt. Marcus admitted he felt like a disappointment to his father, but he refused to give up a job he loved until he absolutely had to. Hermione matched his admission by admitting she felt her parents sometimes wished she hadn't been a witch, that balancing both worlds was hard. She covered his hand with hers as they both dropped off to sleep.
A loud shout jarred Hermione from the gentle embrace of sleep. She resented the loud male voices now yelling. She hadn't slept so soundly in nearly a year. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Marcus stood next to the bed while Rodolphus stood at the foot, glaring him down. "Rodolphus, what's wrong?" she asked in a sleepy voice.
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he yelled. "You never returned to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was concerned enough to floo call her sister. We became even more alarmed when you weren't merely asleep in the library." He resumed glaring at Marcus.
She stood, smoothing her wrinkled shirt. "We got some takeaway and came here to eat and talk. I guess we fell asleep. You do realize we're both adults. I didn't need anyone's permission. But I apologize for worrying you. I'll be sure to apologize to Narcissa as well." She came around and kissed Rodolphus's cheek. "Thank you for caring." He nodded grumpily. Instead of leaving the room, she continued around the bed, "I had so much fun tonight. Thank you. Come see me soon."
"I'm off tomorrow, lunch?"
"Sounds perfect."
"I'll pick up something to surprise you. Any allergies?"
"Gingers," they laughed. She raised on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. "See you tomorrow, or is that today?" She exited his room with a wave.
Marcus touched where her lips had been. He stared at the doorway after her, until he noticed Rodolphus's face. The older man looked even more annoyed than before. "She's just begun opening up. You're no green schoolboy, and she's fragile. And next week that lot comes home to a new status quo. You best not add to that stress."
"Never," he swore, "and this time I intend to defend her as she deserves."
"You better. She cries one tear over you and you'll learn how much better at dueling I am than my brother, and how easy he's been taking it on you."
"No offense, but in that situation, I'm more afraid of what she's going to do when she stops crying. Not that I intend to find out. Most likely, she'll start meeting the charming pretty boys and lose interest in me." He shrugged, "She wouldn't be the first to, but I'll enjoy being her friend for as long as it lasts."
Rodolphus nodded, "Good night, then." At the door, he turned, "Our elves have noted she seems very fond of fruit and cream or salads for lunch. Perhaps take away from one of the nicer restaurants women lunch at. Ask Narcissa or your mother."
"I will."
Hermione apparated to the front door of Malfoy Manor. A glance at her watch told her it was 3 am. She summoned her elf, "Please let Narcissa know I'm back if she's still awake." There was a chance Rodolphus exaggerated the concern of others.
The blonde woman arrived moments later, she made to hug the younger witch, but paused, unsure of her reception. Hermione opened her arms, "My apologies for concerning you. I never dreamed anyone would notice, let alone care this much. I simply went to dinner with Marcus Flint. We fell asleep talking."
"Well, no harm done." She rubbed Hermione's upper arms. "Off to bed for all of us."