A/N: Dear sweet readers - thank you so so much for all your reviews, favorites and follows! I cannot believe the response that this story has gotten and really, it means so much to hear from each of you! This chapter is so long, and it is pretty dense! I've begun outlining year six, so let me know if there is something in particular you want to see. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour), where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of year five and be on the lookout for year six soon!

Marcus hated being summoned to his ancestral home, but unfortunately, when his father called he showed up. That was how he found himself sitting across a freshly polished table from the large man. It was no surprise that Marcus had gotten his stature and frame from his father. His mother had been tall and willowy, and had none of the bunching muscle that the Flint men shared. The only thing she'd given her son was her dark colored hair.

"Marcus. I've called you here, because I feel the need to remind you of your responsibilities to this house." He said, his blue eyes shining with disappointment. "There will be changes in the coming months and I expect you to be on your best behavior."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. This meant his father didn't think he'd already been on his best behavior. He bristled. "What the hell is that supposed to me?"

"It means that Lucius Malfoy has seen you consorting with a mudblood. It's not behavior acceptable for a son of the pureblood house of Flint." His father snapped back immediately. He'd come prepared.

"I wasn't consorting with Hermione." He seethed. "She was on my Quidditch team and she's an accomplished chaser. I don't see how her blood status has anything to do with her ability."

"Oh! So you don't deny that you've been spending time with this girl?" His father's question was rhetorical, and Marcus had to bite his tongue not to answer. "You must cease contact with her this instant."

Marcus couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. He was a grown wizard now, and his father couldn't really make him do anything. "Why should I do that?" He asked, not trying to hide the disdain in his voice. Marcus had never done well with authority figures.

"Because The Dark Lord is back, and any time that you treat a mudblood like a real witch is a negative reflection on this house."

Marcus felt his hackles raise at the mention of Voldemort. He hadn't wanted to believe everything Potter and Dumbledore were spouting about the most notorious dark wizard having come back to life somehow, but if his father was admitting it, it was true. His mother hadn't had militant beliefs about blood status, but she hadn't found out his father was a Death Eater until it was too late.

"I see you are starting to understand, now." His father said, malicious grin on his face, showing off crooked teeth that Marcus shared. "It will be better for the girl as well. Perhaps she can return to the muggle world if she escapes further notice. Though, apparently Draco is quite eager to teach her a lesson, if Lucius is to be believed."

Marcus didn't like the sound of that, but he didn't say anything. If his father's words were to be believed, it would be better for Hermione if he stayed away. He didn't want to bring any more attention to her than her undoubtedly brilliant marks would do. It would hurt him, and he was sure that Hermione wouldn't understand if he tried to explain, but it might be for her own good for him to leave her alone.

Hermione was excited to return to Hogwarts for another year. Last year, she thought it would be impossible to get along without Marcus, but she'd done alright. She was sure she could get through the next three years and then they could...what?

Her cheeks turned red at the idea. It wasn't as if they would be roommates or spend all of their time together, but it would be nice to spend attend Marcus's games or go out to dinner whenever they wanted. Not that they'd ever gone to dinner together before. That would be too much like a date, and it wasn't as though…

Shaking her jumbled thoughts from her head, Hermione was excited to get out on the Quidditch pitch. She was sure that this would be the year that she made it on the first squad. Last year had been rough. Of course, she'd enjoyed flying with Viktor, but it wasn't the same as playing in an actual game.

Graham Montague had made captain. Hermione was a bit disappointed about this, as she would have preferred Cassius Warrington, but she didn't complain. Cassius was the much friendlier of the two, seeing as he's actually complimented her on her play before. Graham always seemed to be looking down his nose at her.

It felt good to fly around the pitch again, and soon all the prospective team members were split up into groups based on their position. It was a bit uncomfortable to be going against Adrian Pucey for the third spot, especially because he was one of just a handful of Slytherins who was actually friendly with her, but she wasn't going to hold back. She wanted to be the best.

And not to be overly confident in her ability, Hermione was confident that she was the best. She knew that that third spot on the team was hers. If she was judged solely on merit.

After tryouts had concluded, Hermione went to the showers to clean up and change back into her school uniform. It was kind of nice, seeing as she was the only girl using the showers, and one of just three who had tried out. When she was done, she was surprised to find the rest of the locker rooms unoccupied. She hadn't thought she'd taken that long.

"Granger, can you come in here for a moment?" Hermione was shocked to have Montague call her into the "office" room, but she complied anyway. Hopefully he was about to give her good news.

"You flew well today." He said, once she'd taken a seat across from him. "And I can't deny that you've got an arm on you. So...I've a proposition for you."

"Proposition?" Hermione asked, feeling uneasy with the smile on his face. Montague had never treated her nicely.

"Yes, let's just say, the spot on the first squad is yours." He said, giving her a smirk, before leaning across the desk and putting a hand on hers. "If you continue the little arrangement you had with Marcus, with me."

Hermione was seething as she wrote her latest note to Marcus. He hadn't been responding to her since the end of the summer. She knew that his season was just starting up, though, so he was likely busy with that, but still, couldn't he write a few words on a scrap of paper.

But this time...this time she expected a response.

Dear Marcus,

I just had the most unusual conversation with our new Quidditch Captain, Graham Montague. He offered me a position on the Quidditch team - the first squad even - if I continue the arrangement that you and I apparently had, with him. What the fuck have you been telling people about me, Marcus? Why on Earth would Montague think that I have been trading sexual favors for a spot on the squad? I thought that you were my friend, Marcus. Why would you say something like this.

I am so embarrassed that people think that my spot on the squad while you were at school was given to me for any reason less than my pure talent. You know how much I despise bribery. Don't you remember all the complaining I did about Malfoy, who is still picked over Terence, even though Ter is a better seeker?

Just so you know, I've turned his offer down, and you can bet all the galleons in your salary that if you had tried something similar with me, I never would have agreed to it.

Hermione

She flushed thinking about what Montague had suggested. She felt a bit silly knowing that she had taken a deal with Marcus when he was just teaching her how to fly. But she wouldn't have put that to the level of bribery, though he'd surely bribed Millie to be nicer to her in the beginning.

She sent the letter off before she could think on it anymore, knowing that she would only quibble back and forth on her words. No, she didn't care if Marcus thought her note was rude. She was spitting mad, and he should know about it. She didn't even know why she expected Marcus to even respond, because he hadn't responded to any of her other letters. He was probably just throwing them all into the bin.

Hermione certainly hadn't expected to receive a letter back the very same day, but the school owl that she'd sent her note with came back just in time for dinner, swooping down in front of her and offering its note to her.

Pipsqueak,

I promise you I have never once implied to Montague or anyone else that you have been trading sexual favors with me in exchange for a spot on the team. Don't worry about it. I'll sort Montague.

Marcus

She sighed, feeling a bit relieved that he hadn't said anything of the sort. She thought that it did seem out of character for the burly boy. Well, no, not boy. Man. She was a bit annoyed that Marcus continually thought she needed him to fight her battles, but it was nice to know he still cared.

Marcus waited for the first Slytherin Quidditch match of the season to head over to Hogwarts. He loved playing for a professional team, but there was something that couldn't be reproduced about a school game. Plus, he wouldn't lie that he was excited to see his little Quidditch prodigy play.

But, he was disappointed to see Hermione not on the pitch, or even on the bench. He felt a sinking in his stomach, remembering her words that she had turned down Montague's offer. Montague couldn't have been so stupid to actually take her off the team because she wouldn't put out for him?

He headed to the Quidditch locker rooms once the game was over to find out. Montague was found in the office, and Marcus shut the door behind him. The younger boy quickly realized just what Marcus was doing there and looked incredibly uncomfortable. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Marcus asked, his voice low.

Montague gulped. "I...I just thought that I could get a little something out of her." He at least looked ashamed that he would stoop so low. Marcus was confused. Montague wasn't a bad looking bloke. He could certainly get a girl that he wanted if he put a little effort into wooing her.

"Why would you even think that Hermione and I had that kind of arrangement?" He tried to keep a tight lid on his anger, but the thought of Hermione being taken advantage of in that way was making him sick to his stomach. "She's just a kid."

Montague rolled his eyes at him then. "Please, Marcus, stop lying to yourself. Hermione might have been a kid four years ago, but she isn't a kind now. She's all grown up."

Marcus swallowed knowing now that he couldn't pretend any longer that Hermione wasn't a woman. She was a very attractive looking girl, once she'd grown into her slightly overly large teeth and her wild hair had switched from bushy to bedroom. Her brown eyes were large, like a doe and she'd definitely developed the body of a woman.

Hermione was attractive, there was no denying that. So, why did he want her to stay his little pipsqueak? He'd never felt anything even remotely brotherly towards her. It was new territory for him. Could it maybe be that he liked her more than he thought?

"Just make it right, Montague. Let Hermione on the team and I won't have to give you a beating. You know that she's the best." He growled out, wanting the conversation to focus on something other than Hermione's womanly assets.

"Don't get bent out of shape, Flint. I did offer her a spot on the team, after she refused my offer and hexed me worse than I thought possible. It took Pomfrey a week to figure out how to get rid of the boils!" He said with a grimace, the memory obviously still fresh in his mind.

"Then why wasn't she playing today?" Marcus countered, wondering if Hermione had refused to join on principle.

"Because she had detention with our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge for arguing in class." Montague laughed. "I'd be surprised if she is allowed to play again the way that Ministry witch hands out punishments."

Marcus frowned. Hermione hadn't said anything about a new Defense professor, or that she was having trouble with her in class. He wondered why she hadn't written about it, but then, her letters were becoming more and more sparse. He couldn't blame her when he never responded to them.

Still, he hoped everything was alright with Hermione.

"Miss Granger, do you know why I've given you detention this evening?" Professor Umbridge asked her from behind her monstrous desk. The room was artificially pink and covered in plates with mewling kittens. But the sweet shell couldn't hide the rotten interior that the Professor had.

Hermione knew from the moment Umbridge had interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore that something more was up that just having a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She never would have guessed that it was because the Ministry was trying to control the curriculum at Hogwarts.

In her first class, Hermione hadn't been able to hold her tongue when she saw that they wouldn't be performing any defensive spells and that they would only be getting a theoretical knowledge. Hermione knew that she'd spoken out of turn, but she just couldn't seem to stop arguing and then Potter had joined in and started spouting off about Voldemort being back and then Umbridge had lost her cool.

It was Hermione's first detention in her many years at Hogwarts, and it was a weird place to be in. Hermione was generally well liked by all of her Professors and she had never once made a Professor shout at her. It was embarrassing and it was frustrating. She didn't really think she'd done anything wrong.

"For speaking out of turn in class." Hermione said tersely, meeting the eyes of the toad of a woman.

"I am going to have you write lines for me. You will write 'I will not disgrace my house' until it sinks in." Umbridge slid an unusual quill across the table. Hermione picked it up. "We know you've already done enough, with your unfortunate parentage."

"Excuse me?" Hermione was shocked as the older woman's words sunk in. Was she really accusing her of disgracing Slytherin house by being a muggleborn? She'd experienced a lot of prejudice, but never something so blatant from a professor and a ministry worker!

Umbridge smiled at her. "Get writing, Miss Granger. I don't have all night."

Hermione scowled, but picked up the quill and began writing. Had she really gotten detention for just being a muggleborn? She felt hot tears in the corner of her eyes, but began writing her wild hair covering her face from Umbridge's view. I will not disgrace my house.

Her hair couldn't shield her gasp, though, when she felt the stinging on the back of her hand. She glanced at it, and noticed her own hand writing being carved into the back of her hand. Those disgusting words were being scarred into her own flesh, a permanent reminder of what people thought of her.

When she made it back to her dorm, she charmed her bed curtains shut, unwilling to face the cruel smirks from Pansy or the ineffectual comforts of the other girls who would just never be able to understand.

She thought about writing Marcus, but he'd barely spoken to her this year. Instead, she wrapped herself around her pillow and let her cries rock her to sleep.

By the time that December rolled around, Hermione was so frustrated with Marcus. She couldn't believe the cold shoulder that he was giving through, after how close she'd felt to him for four years. She wondered if he'd ever actually been her friend or if it was just because she was useful to him in some way. The negative energy that permeated Hogwarts was getting to her as well.

Dear Marcus,

I deserve an explanation for why you've completely cut me out this year. We were so close by now you've practically fallen off the face of the Earth. I know that you are busy being a Quidditch player, but surely you could take five minutes to write me back once. What the fuck?

I don't understand what I've done to deserve this treatment. Do you not like me any more? Now that I am no longer useful to you because I'm not on your Quidditch team any more? Were you just using me to try and win games? Do I mean anything to you?

Hermione

She sent off the owl before she could change her mind.

Hermione wasn't sure why it was bothering her so much, the way that Marcus seemed so hot and cold with her. Really, she just wanted to know where their relationship stood. Was he her friend and could she count on him, or did he not care about her and she should move on? It wasn't as though she couldn't take care of herself, but that didn't mean she would push him away.

But what she couldn't do was keep writing to someone who was never going to write back, who ignored her for seemingly no reason. Really, yes he had a job, but Hermione was just as busy. It wasn't as if he spent each and every minute of the day playing Quidditch.

She wondered if maybe he'd found himself a girlfriend and she wondered why that made her feel funny. Of course, if Marcus had a girlfriend, he wouldn't have as much time for her. It was understandable, she supposed, as it would be the same if she had a boyfriend, but...it didn't feel write.

Shaking her head, Hermione decided to head to the library. A bit of studying would keep her mind off of big hulking brutes like Marcus.

Hermione's heart warmed when she saw Marcus's owl waiting for her at the breakfast table when she walked into the Great Hall the morning after she sent her letter. She felt a little bit silly, because she was sure her letter had been quite inflammatory, and she worried that perhaps she said something that would...

She hurried to the owl, removing the letter from the owl, unsure if Marcus would have written her platitudes, apologizing for his neglect, or curt words, letting her know that they were no longer friends. Her hands shook while she unfurled the paper, Marcus's familiar scrawl greeting her eyes.

Hermione,

I am sorry that I haven't been writing you. You are right that it takes only a minute and really I have no excuse for not having written you back. I wish I had an explanation to give you, but I don't have one except for I'm a shit friend.

I want to make it up to you, though. The Falcons are playing in London on New Years' Eve. I know that you live in London, so I would love it if you came to watch me play. I can even get you a seat in the box, if you want. After the game, we can catch up.

Let me know if you will give me another shot.

Marcus

Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Of course she would give Marcus another shot. She was being dramatic before, Hogwarts seeming so very dreary, but now things seemed brighter.

And really, who was going to pass up box seats to a professional quidditch match? She hadn't seen Marcus play with the Falcons once, so she was really eager to go. For being such a large man, Marcus was a really lovely flier and she couldn't wait to see how his techniques had changed since he'd spent so much time with the Falcons. She was sure that he was really great.

It would be nice to go out for New Year's as well, she didn't have any muggle friends to celebrate with and she certainly wasn't being invited to any of her pureblood classmates' families parties. Really, she couldn't think of anyone else who she'd rather celebrate with.

Excited for the first time in weeks, Hermione quickly wrote back to Marcus to accept his invitation, and to her parents to let them know that she had plans for the holiday. She wondered if she should tell them it was with Marcus. They had been quite intimidated by his size and surly demeanor when he'd picked her up for the world cup the previous summer.

Watching Marcus play Quidditch was as exhilarating as she imagined, though it had been a bit uncomfortable sitting the box with women, who Hermione quickly figured out were the wives and girlfriends of the players. She was the youngest person, by far, and it was a bit awkward seeing as she wasn't dating Marcus.

Still, she kept her eyes and ears on the pitch, her breath catching more than once when she watched him playing. He was incredibly talented, she always knew that of course, but he'd become much more fluid. The plays that the team ran had her searching for the Quaffle more than once, and she couldn't wait to ask him about it.

When the game was over, she made her way down to the locker room, flashing the badge that Marcus had sent her. Several people looked at her strangely when she walked through the long hallways, but she eventually found Marcus, dressed and ready to leave, talking to the team's mediwitch.

The older woman smiled at her. "You must be Hermione, Marcus's friend." She said with a wide smile on her face, and Hermione wondered if they secretly had a laugh about her, the stupid muggleborn girl who didn't understand wizarding society. "Marcus talks about you all the time."

Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say. She was pleased to hear that Marcus did talk about her, but she wished he would put just a little bit of time into their friendship. Luckily, he seemed just as uncomfortable with the topic of conversation and smiled at her, showing off crooked teeth. "Ready to go pipsqueak?"

She took his offered arm, and let him apparate them away, only to be surprised to land at the entrance of Diagon Alley. The pub was full, but the streets were well deserted, to Hermione's surprise. "I thought that we could go out into London. Things won't be as lively in Diagon Alley."

Hermione lead him into Muggle London, surprised that he would suggest it. "You aren't embarrassed to be seen with me, are you?" She asked, feeling on edge.

His cheeks turned pink. "Of...of course not, Hermione. I just wanted to see the revelry, and well, I thought you might be more comfortable in the muggle world."

It was rather thoughtful, she thought, and they quickly found a pub not far away from Diagon Alley. It was packed, but they were able to work their way to the bar, only to order drinks. A well placed confundus charm made all the concerns about Hermione's age flit away, and they pushed themselves over to a table that was recently vacated. "Well, what do you think?" She asked, once they were settled.

"It's much louder than I was expecting." He shouted over the music and voices that only seemed to get louder with each passing minute as more people packed into the pub. Hermione looked down at the table, and Marcus took the moment to stare at her face. She looked so lovely with a Falmouth scarf around her neck, her hair windswept. Her cheeks were still rosy from the cold and he was struck by how beautiful she'd become without him even noticing.

She took a drink from her pint, and he noticed the red scarring on her hand. As soon as she set the glass down, he snatched her hand looking at the marks. The scar had definitely been writing at some point, but it was healing so he no longer could read what it said. "Who did this?" He demanded, his voice grave.

Hermione snatched her hand back. "I don't need you to defend me all the time, Marcus Flint! I can take care of myself. I'm not a little firstie anymore."

He nearly groaned at the truth of her statement. She certainly wasn't a first year any longer. "Hey, I am still your friend. I worry about you." He said, surprised by the honesty, but unable to take the statement back. "Won't you just tell me what happened?"

She nibbled her lower lip between her teeth, deciding if she should share the secret with him. "The new Defense professor, Umbridge...she gave me detention for being a muggleborn, more or less. She made me use a blood quill to write lines."

Marcus felt hot rage in the pit of his stomach. That had to be the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard, and barbaric at that. And this was coming from someone who purposefully pulled Katie Bell by the head during a Quidditch match. Knowing he couldn't do anything about it now he tried to pull himself together. He ran a hand over his face. "Please, Hermione, just keep your head down right now. Things are changing and I don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't promise that Marcus." She stood from the table, annoyed that he'd ignored her, only to pretend like he cared so much. It felt fake to her.

He stood from the table, grabbing her by the hand. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't make a sound. She watched the tumult in his grey-blue eyes, before his eyes dropped to her parted lips. Confused, she heard the countdown to the New Year in the background.

Then, he was pulling her towards him, hands forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed.

His kiss wasn't timid or unsure, but rather forceful and deliberate. Hermione couldn't stop herself from pressing against him more tightly, pulling his lips between hers. She'd never imagined what kissing Marcus would be like, but it was more than she ever expected: bruising, fierce, dizzying.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, only that eventually their lips had parted and their tongues had met in pleasurable battle for control. And then, he was pulling away, looking more confused than before.

Hermione felt her heart drop. Sure, she hadn't known that she wanted to kiss Marcus until it actually happened, but now it was all she wanted. She could tell that he was about to say something, but she wanted to avoid the painful explanation from him that he'd made a mistake. Hermione wasn't sure she could take that kind of rejection right now.

Instead, she gave him a weak smile. "I can get back to my parents' from here, if you…" She didn't finish the sentence, but he clearly understood the sentiment. He wished her goodnight before leaving her alone in the pub.

After the holidays were over, Hermione realized that it was the first time she wasn't excited to go back to Hogwarts, where everything seemed so dark and hopeless. She'd never been so acutely aware that she didn't fit into the wizarding world, and her emotions were still out of wack from the kiss she'd shared with Marcus. It had been perfect, everything a kiss should be, and yet…

The new school term brought continued changes as Professor Umbridge was given more authority from the Ministry of Magic to make changes to the school. She'd quickly announced the formation of a new Inquisitorial Squad. Malfoy and joined and had given her a week of detention, to be served with Filch, within five minutes of receiving his shiny silver badge.

Luckily, it was in that detention that she spent a little time with Luna Lovegood, polishing the trophy room by hand. Hermione had never paid much attention to the dreamy blonde, but she seemed to be able to identify all of Hermione's myriad issues with a glance. And she'd invited her to the "little defense group" that Potter had set up.

The first time that she attended, Luna held her hand and led her into the Room of Requirement, a fascinating place she'd like to explore on her own time. Potter had been incredibly suspicious of her reasoning for joining, sure that she was a mole, until Hermione explained, tears in her eyes that she was a muggleborn in Slytherin house. She had a target on her back and she was going to stick it to Umbridge anyway she knew how.

Potter was a much better teacher than she expected, and she suspected that he was getting notes from Professor Lupin, who had been their best professor up to that point. In one week, she'd learned more new defensive spells than in the whole first term of Hogwarts. She'd even managed to conjure a patronus charm.

A playful little otter had come from the end of her wand, so bright white that it almost looked solid. Potter was surprised and asked what memory she used, as it must have been a strong one. Hermione had blushed and refused to answer.

In reality, she'd started out trying to use the feeling of flying through the air, but it just wasn't strong enough. But then, thoughts of Marcus began to bleed in. His arms around her when they shared a broom, the way it felt to be engulfed in his hug, his masculine scent, the feel of his lips on hers...

Being a member of Dumbledore's Army was a much better thing for her than she could have imagined. Ever since she signed her name up on the roster pinned to the mirror in the Room of Requirement, she hadn't felt helpless. She knew that people like her - muggleborns - were being targeted, but she wasn't about to sit by and let someone, especially someone like Umbridge, hurt her or take advantage of her.

She was taking control of her life and the feeling was intoxicating. She believed Potter about Voldemort being back, even though Marcus said it was impossible. She wouldn't be caught unprepared.

Hermione hated cliches, but she supposed in this case, one did fit. All good things must come to an end. She knew that it was a real possibility when she joined Dumbledore's Army that they could get caught. They were thwarting Filch, Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad at every turn, but sooner or later she should have known it would have caught up to them.

In the end, it seemed a bit silly to learn that one of their own had turned against them and spilled the beans to Umbridge. Hermione thought that this Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were supposed to be so loyal to one another.

She should have suspected that the blame would come to lay at her feet. She should have known that she would always be considered an outsider to them, a snake, someone who couldn't be trusted. No matter what she said, no one believed her.

Ron Weasley had been especially vicious, tearing her down for her appearance, her house, her blood status, the way she behaved. It would be a lie if she said that it didn't hurt. His insults were nothing new, but she had hoped that she'd actually made some new friends participating in the group and to hear that they all still so thought little of her.

It was times like these when she missed Marcus most. It always seemed like he knew when she needed him most. He could always be counted on for a hug or to threaten to beat someone up for her. But then, she'd told him she could handle herself.

Marcus was pretty much all she thought of while she served her myriad detentions with Umbridge, writing lines with that blasted blood quill until her hand was bloody and sore. Joining Harry Potter's group was decidedly not keeping her head down, like he'd asked her to.

Still, she imagined what it would be like if he came into Hogwarts, threatened Umbridge away from her and then kissed her hand until all the hurt just melted away. She imagined him wrapping her up in his muscular arms so that she could rest her cheek on his chest, while his fingers ran through her wild hair. He'd wipe away her tears and make her feel so safe.

But that was a pointless road to go down, Hermione knew. Marcus had kissed her, yes, but she was sure that he hadn't meant to and he'd be horrified to know that she was sitting her fantasizing about him.

Still, it was nice to dream.

Marcus had been studiously ignoring that had happened at the muggle pub during New Years. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to kiss Hermione, but it had just been right. It made him want to tell his father to go fuck himself, that Hermione was perfect and he'd fight until the end for her.

She'd even kissed him back, deepening the kiss, until he had no idea how long exactly he'd been kissing her. Time bled away and he wanted to stay there with her forever. She was tiny, but she felt so perfect wrapped up in his arms, curves pressed against his unforgiving form.

Merlin, he felt his body react still, weeks later, just at the thought of it. It was really not a good thing for him to be involved with her. Not to mention he had no idea how she felt about him. Of course, she was still young, naive. He thought he'd caught a hint of disappointment in her eyes when he pulled away from her, but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps she was trying to think of a way to let him down easily. After all, why would she go for him when she could have someone like Krum?

His father was right. It wouldn't do to bring any undue attention to her. It seemed as if she already had enough attention anyhow. He still couldn't think of that woman who had mutilated her hand without shaking in rage.

When he'd read the Daily Prophet outlining the scheme that the Ministry had uncovered at Hogwarts - Dumbledore's Army - he had been shocked to find her name among those who participated. He'd forced himself to take half a day before he wrote her a note, knowing that he was liable to say something to her that she would never forgive him for.

Hermione,

What's this I am reading about you being in Dumbledore's Army with Potter and the like? I thought you were smarter than to get involved with those hooligans. They are trouble. I thought you were going to try to keep your head down.

Marcus

He thought it was rather tame, considering he'd wanted to write at first, which was full of sarcastic allusions to her being the brightest witch of her age. He didn't expect her to write back as quickly as she did.

Marcus,

My involvement with Dumbledore's Army was taken out of necessity. Umbridge wasn't teaching us any defensive spells in class, and I refuse to be caught unaware. I know you say that you-know-who can't be back, but something is going terribly wrong. I read about disappearances and murders of muggleborns and muggles alike every week in the paper. Forgive me if I won't sit by idly waiting until it's my turn to be taken care of. I will fight tooth and nail for my safety.

Hermione

Marcus felt a bit badly reading what she wrote. It was true that the disappearances were piling up, but he hadn't once thought about how that would affect Hermione. He knew it was selfish, but part of him just wanted to go to Hogwarts, scoop her up and bring her home with him. He wouldn't let her out of his sight and he'd keep her safe.

Like he'd promised.

Hermione sprinted to the hospital wing after she'd read about what happened at the Department of Mysteries. There was no doubting Harry Potter's claims now that Voldemort was back, now that hundreds of Ministry employees had seen him in the flesh. Headmaster Dumbledore had been reinstated and things felt more off kilter than ever.

But what Hermione was really upset about was the fact that several members of Dumbledore's Army had fled the castle and gone to fight the Death Eaters. Hermione was very put out that she hadn't even been asked to join. She blinked rapidly to keep her tears away.

She'd grown fond of several of the members and the idea that any of them were hurt made her upset. Surely, if she'd been told, they wouldn't have just charged headlong into the fray. Maybe Luna Lovegood wouldn't have been cursed by a dark wizard called Dolohov, now fighting for her life.

It was easy to find the group of students who had been hurt, as they were all clustered together. She found Harry Potter sitting next to the bedside of Ron Weasley, who had so much bruising on his arms and head. She roughly shoved him awake. "What is it?" He asked, startled.

Hermione crossed her arms. "How could you just leave me behind? Did you think there were others who might have a reason to fight the Death Eaters?" She demanded, feeling a bit silly that she was arguing. It seemed so petty now.

The commotion had woken Ron Weasley, who sat up in his bed. "We didn't tell you because you are nothing but a traitorous bitch!" He hissed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, you still suspect me after Marietta Edgecomb admitted to it?" She had been surprised to learn that Edgecomb was the snitch, but she supposed everyone had their price.

"You could have imperiused her. We know you snakes teach unforgivables like they are summoning charms." Ron argued back.

Hermione couldn't hold the tears back any more at this point. She was so disgusted with the way Potter and his friends treated her. They couldn't look past her house, or think about why she might want to fight on their side. Instead, they just wrote her off.

Before she could think of some smart retort that masked the hurt she felt, Harry Potter stood. "Get out!" He shouted at her, perhaps egged on by Weasley's words or the grief he felt from losing his godfather.

It didn't matter, though. Hermione did as she was told and turned on her heel marching out of the hospital wing. She didn't think she'd ever felt so alone at Hogwarts, and of course this was the one time she couldn't turn to Marcus for comfort. He didn't understand her reasoning for joining Potter in the first place, and he would just be disappointed in her.

Hermione slogged through her remaining classes. There wasn't much to do since she had taken her OWLs, and normally she would be fretting until she got her results, but she found that she didn't care as much as she thought she would.

Her world was in tumult and she was learning year after year that she didn't quite fit in anywhere. Her roommates were a constant, but the friendships she shared with them were shallow at best. She didn't have the distraction of Quidditch this season, thanks to a combination of Montague and Umbridge.

Even after the Weasley twins had shoved Montague into some kind of cabinet and he'd come out a bit confused and had to give up his captaincy, she couldn't even be given the spot he vacated. Warrington - the new captain - had petitioned Snape and Umbridge personally, but they had refused to give her back her spot. That had gone to Blaise Zabini.

Her friendship with Marcus just wasn't the same anymore either. It was hard enough now that he didn't go to Hogwarts with her, before the the kiss even came into the equation. She couldn't decide if she felt more for Marcus or if she just wanted him as a friend. Her heart did beat a bit wildly when she thought back on the kiss, but sometimes it seemed painfully obvious that he'd made a mistake and he regretted kissing her.

His letters were so sporadic, it was hard to count on any correspondence from Marcus. So when he wrote her first, for a change, Hermione was surprised, and a little seed of hope formed in her heart, that maybe she meant as much to him as he meant to her.

Hermione,

I hope that you had a good time of your OWLs. Who am I kidding? I am sure you passed those with flying colors. Like I said before, you could have taken your NEWTs in third year and still passed more than me.

Listen, I was hoping that I could meet with you after school is out. I can come get you from your house and we can talk at my flat, or you could take the train again if you wanted. I just really need to speak to you about something.

Let me know if you can.

Marcus

His words frightened her a little bit. What if he needed to tell her that he couldn't be friends anymore? Still, she knew she wouldn't turn down his request and quickly wrote to both her parents and Marcus to arrange a trainride to Falmouth.

The walk from the train station over the Marcus's flat was a short one, especially when she had so much on her mind. She knew it was a bit ridiculous to be looking over her shoulder at every turn, as if Voldemort would be right behind her in the muggle world, but she was so frightened. She had gotten her test results and she knew she'd gotten some of the highest scores in a century, which would not escape notice of certain parties.

Marcus opened the door almost immediately after she knocked, and he pulled her into a fierce hug, kissing the top of her head. Hermione was surprised, but she relaxed against him. Marcus made her feel safe in a way that no one else could.

He pulled back. "Hermione, I've been worried for you." It was easy to read the concern in his eyes. "Come, let's sit." He brought her into the living room and sat her down on the couch.

Hermione was mesmerized by the place where their legs touched and she felt her heart speed up. "Marcus, I am so frightened now that you-know-who is back." She told him honestly.

"That's why you need to keep your head down, pipsqueak. Don't draw undue attention to yourself." He lamented. "I've been telling you this all year."

She frowned at his words. "Does this mean...you've known that he was back all year?" She asked, upset. He had told her that it was impossible for Voldemort to have returned, but now it appeared that he knew differently.

He winced, perhaps realizing his mistake. He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't know at the Tournament, I promise. But, my father told me over the summer. That's why I've stopped writing you so much, because he asked me to."

Hermione felt hurt pierce her heart. "Because I am a muggleborn?"

"Yes." He told her honestly. "My father is...a Death Eater. I can't lie about that. He told me if I really cared about your friendship I would leave you alone, so no one noticed. I mean, Malfoy already knows how protective I am of you, and I didn't want you to get hurt." He touched her cheek, where a lone tear had fallen, but Hermione shrugged away.

Hermione's mind was a jumble of thoughts. "Your father is a Death Eater?" She couldn't believe she'd fantasized about being together with Marcus forever. That was an impossibility if he came from a family of blood supremacists.

"Yes, but, Hermione, I don't think of you that way, I promise. I don't care that you are muggleborn." His voice was desperate, desperate for her to understand his reasoning.

Hermione didn't know what to think any more. She knew he said he wasn't embarrassed of her, but maybe he was. Maybe his father was just a convenient scapegoat. Why would he lie to her for a whole year about the return of Voldemort and then get upset with her when she just tried to prepare herself for his return.

She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know if she could forgive him. He said he didn't want her to get hurt, but this betrayal hurt more than she thought possible. Shaking her head, she stood up from his couch. "I don't know what to think. I need time."

He followed after her when she ran out the door, but he stopped when she slammed his front door behind her. She grimaced hearing him punch the wood of the door in frustration.

She just needed time.