Hermione didn't see Marcus Flint again until well after the war was over. It was at the Ministry of Magic's New Years Eve party. It was the first event that the wizarding world had thrown since the final battle and everyone was ready for some revelry after so much pain and sadness.

Things had certainly changed for the so-called "Golden Trio." Hermione and Harry detested the fame and recognition, but Ron lapped it all up like a starving man. He gave interviews, dated a revolving door of witches, and spent tons of money. It drove a wedge through their friendship, Harry and Ginny's relationship, and consequently the relationship of Harry and Hermione with all of the Weasleys.

Hermione was really not looking forward to facing the wizard that had snogged the breath from her in the Chamber of Secrets and then dumped her for none other than Parvati Patil the very same day. She still remembered the smug look he had worn on his face when he walked down from Gryffindor Tower the next day, with his arm slung around Parvati's shoulder.

Still, she dutifully dressed up in a short gold dress and tall black heels for the party, determined to have a good time, even if that meant ducking from Ron the whole night.

She wasn't expecting to run into an old...friend?

Hermione was slowly walking behind a pillar, champagne glass in one hand, the rest of her attention on Ron's position. He'd been trying to track her down, but she was determined to get away, not wanting to admit that she'd shown up alone. When she wasn't looking behind her, she was surprised to bump right into someone, completely spilling her glass of champagne all down the front of her dress. Muttering softly to herself, she set about charming the spill away.

Hearing a masculine chuckle behind her, Hermione turned around scowling, only to have her foul mood drastically improve when she came face to face with none other than Marcus Flint. "Alright there Granger?" he asked. His deep blue eyes were sparkling with what Hermione could now identify as lust.

"Marcus!" she responded. Hermione threw her arms around his wide body, and then felt a little bit silly to address him so informally. It wasn't as though they had kept in touch through the years and so many things had changed. Releasing him from her hold, she awkwardly cleared her throat. "So I realize I never asked how you did on your NEWTs?" she asked, pleased to have come up with a topic other than the fact that she had just thrown herself at him.

"I passed them all," Marcus revealed with a proud tone in his voice. "Even got an E in Charms. But then again, you were a better professor than Flitwick. Much more intriguing to look at," he complimented.

Hermione blushed at his words, but congratulated him anyway.

"Well, you are missing a drink. Shall we go get you a new one?" he offered.

Hermione nodded mutely, letting him lead her from the periphery to the bar, past everyone she was trying to avoid. Even Ron took one look at the pair and began sputtering and walked away, too afraid to take Flint on. It was...refreshing.

They danced throughout the night, drinking more than their fair share of champagne, laughing and catching up to a rapport that they had once shared before in the library at Hogwarts. Marcus didn't treat her any differently than he had before, unlike everyone else who was always fawning over her. He was respectful, but didn't let her take herself too seriously.

When the clock struck midnight, they found themselves staring hesitantly at one another. Hermione remembered his kiss to her cheek all those years ago and wondered what it would feel like to share a real kiss.

Finally, with a breath to fortify himself, Marcus found himself bending over, pulling her body close to his, and planting his lips directly on hers. He couldn't hear her moan over the roar of the crowds, but he could feel it with her body pressed so intimately against him. Soon, she was spreading her lips eagerly slipping her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own, igniting a sexual spark like none he'd ever experienced.

Pushing down on her shoulders to break them apart, Marcus looked at Hermione with her bruised lips and heaving breaths and took a chance on himself. "Hey, do you want to get out of here?" he whispered into her ear, wondering where he'd gotten the courage.

Hermione stiffened against him before nodding vigorously. Marcus led her by the hand to the Floos the ministry had set up. Within seconds they were standing in his rather spartan apartment, and he felt embarrassed for the first time. He was sure other Quidditch players lived in luxury, but he found that the simplicity suited him.

When he was turning around to offer her a drink, Hermione closed the two steps between them before pulling him down for another kiss. This time he was sure that he heard her moaning. It was sweet and addictive. He pulled her down the hallway, frantically kissing her and helping her to undo the buttons to his shirt, before reaching behind her to unzip her dress.

They fell into his unmade bed, naked and aroused, and Marcus decided that he might like her there forever. "Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked her, dropping a kiss to her pert little nose.

"Yes," Hermione answered, with a bite to her lower lip. "Please."

He was gentle, taking the time to worship her body with kisses and caresses, before finally entering her when she was wet and ready. They moved together, each seeking a higher level of pleasure. When she came, his finger rubbing her clit in tiny circles, she clenched around him so tightly that Marcus found he was unable to not follow over the edge, enjoying their combined sounds.

When he rolled over so as not to crush her, he pulled her to his body and held on tightly, not wanting to let her go. Ever.

But when Hermione woke up the next morning, she felt incredibly stupid. Sure, she and Marcus had some sexual tension both at Hogwarts and now, that was undeniable. But to just go and have sex with someone she barely even knew? Plus, Marcus probably did this sort of thing with all kinds of Quidditch groupies. It wasn't as if it meant anything to him.

So she pulled herself from his grasp, replacing her body with a pillow, trying to ignore the ache that settled in her chest when he pulled it closer to him in his sleep. She found her clothes, quickly redressing as quietly as possible. She picked up her shoes and tiptoed down the hallway to where his floo was located.

"Well, I guess I will see you around," she whispered to herself, before stepping through the green flames.