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Marcus

Marcus laid awake, his mind cycling through his emotions and vision and life. He harrumphed and turned onto his side. The darkness did nothing to offer him any comfort. He just couldn't figure it out. What was it about her that made him want to please her? Why now?

He thought back to a couple years ago when his mum had asked if he had any prospects. He had made a face and didn't feel any sort of remorse at responding in a way that had her squaring her shoulders. He'd been slightly curt, but he knew that he hadn't wanted to get married any time soon. He also knew that with the death of Voldemort, their traditions of marriage and courting were fading away. Marcus only felt a slight pressure to carry on his family name; and he suspected that the only reason his mum asked was because she wanted to hold her grandbaby then give the squalling infant back to him.

But now – now... Now he didn't know how he felt. He liked her. He liked her personality, her brains and what he remembered from her, her valiant and courageous spirit. She was fierce and loyal and he wanted that. Marcus realized that he wanted to take it further. He wanted to get to know her better.

He groaned and huffed in annoyance. This was not good. He knew it. She would be the end of him.

Damn that she had gone shopping the day he'd seen her. "Damn it to Hades, fucking Granger!"

Draco

Draco lit up another cigarette then looked at it. Hermione probably didn't like the smoke. He was about to toss it, but once she entered his mind and wrinkled her nose, he took a long hard rebellious drag then tossed it.

She wasn't going to tell him what he could and could not do! He was a grown wizard! He slouched in defeat a moment later. Who was he kidding? He was ready to propose. In fact, had she asked him to marry her in the shoe store, he would have agreed right then and there! He had always wanted to get married. The very idea that you were not alone; you had a life partner, a companion, who you loved and who loved you was a very appealing concept to Draco. His parents were close and always presented a united front. Even his aunt Bella, who was mad as a hatter, was loyal to Rodolphus. She never spoke a bad word against him nor him against her.

Draco wanted that and he knew Hermione was the witch he could trust to have his back whenever, wherever.

"Hermione fucking Granger! Who would have guessed?" he chirped to himself, putting out his cigarette and throwing away the remaining pack.

Blaise

The music was pumping and the girls were dancing, though half-heartedly. He slowly spun his nearly empty glass in circles and zoned out while two naked witches humped and twirled around the poles. His eyes scanned the pale skin and glittering breasts of the girls and his mind flashed to Hermione. Her hair swinging, her hips moving seductively then his mental flashes of her skin faded into the two of them sitting in a cozy restaurant, laughing and debating and knowing each other. He got angry of a sudden and gritted his teeth, glaring at the two witches on stage.

Hermione had substance.

These witches, he thought viciously as he looked at the two surprised women, did not!

He threw down a coin; enough to cover the cost of the drink and nothing more then walked out.

His mind was still playing tricks on him when the cool night air hit him in the face and pictures of a girl in a white dress and babies, with his skin tone and namesake, and her wild hair.

Blaise growled and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fucking Granger!" he hissed.

Adrian

The smoke in the air from the cigars was intoxicating and suffocating all at once, but Adrian paid it no mind. He focused on the shuffle of cards then dealt. It was a high stakes game in Muggle London. There was a 30,000 Galleon buy-in just to get a seat at the table. Adrian only knew these men as not-so-friendly acquaintances; Purebloods who the majority of were on the wrong side of the war, but were pardoned for one reason or another.

Adrian didn't gamble like this often, but for some reason the feisty little smart-mouthed witch wouldn't stop running through his mind. He had needed some way to refocus his attentions on something else. It was an epic failure.

He was vaguely aware that most of the wizards watched him keenly, but he was infamous for his stoicism and now that his mind was not even on the game, he knew that the others were irritated. He glanced at his cards then placed them face down on the blue felt. Hermione.

Would she care that occasionally he liked to play poker? He wondered if she knew how to play. He smirked at the thought of teaching her to play. They could play strip poker. He hoped that she was not a fast learner.

"Pucey!"

His eyes shot to the gentleman across from him. Dallas Corner. Michael Corner's father. "Aye," Pucey responded.

"Pay attention!" Dallas snapped. "Three cards."

Pucey raised one eyebrow at the sharp tone and dealt three cards to the man.

The game was on after trades were made and Pucey's thoughts found their way back to the beauty that currently held his attention.

He fought the urge to smile, queen of hearts. He just knew it was a sign. Lifting his head, and facing the table, "Call."

There was groaning and audible discord as Adrian laid his hand on the table. "Royal Flush, gentlemen. Read 'em and weep."

Gathering his winnings, and smiling at the men in the room, he stood and nodded his good bye.

"Oi Pucey! Give us a chance to win back our Galleons!" Dallas again.

"No can do, Corner. I have a witch to woo."

Two wizards chuffed in humor then went to deal another hand. Dallas looked to the wizard beside him, Jacoby Nott. "Who's the witch?"

Jacoby had heard from his son that his mates were caught up in the Granger girl's siren. "Granger. Hermione Fucking Granger, mate."

OoO

Each continued to ponder the reasoning behind taking Hermione seriously. Why this witch? Why now? But each came to the conclusion that the Fates were weaving a tangled web of folly and romance. They would go with it.

OoO

Hermione tried not to stumble too obviously down the hill. She hadn't planned on staying so long and she certainly hadn't planned on drinking anything but tea, but once Minnie poured Severus some firewhiskey, she didn't want to be left out.

As she crossed into the small village, and with a slow awareness came to realize that it was quite the happening place for it being this late. Hermione stood for a minute to observe the wizards and witches, walking to and fro. She blinked to clear her head and took a step. She was not expecting the dip in the pavement and as a result, her foot twisted, her knee buckled and like a baby giraffe using its legs for the very first time, she felt herself begin to topple over.

As her chest pitched forward, and her hips swayed to the left, she threw her hands up and yelped at the sudden downward spiral. Closing her eyes, she awkwardly and exaggeratedly leaned forward to catch herself before hitting the pavement, but what she felt were strong arms and a jerk up that righted her balance in one fell swoop. Her teeth clicked together as a result, but other than that, she was put to order.

Turning with a lop-sided tipsy smile, she went to thank the wizard who saved her.

Pretty brown eyes met the brilliant green of- "Harry?"

Harry looked at the small witch with uncertainty. He wasn't sure who she was, but she knew him. "I-I'm sorry, who-" In the time it took to speak those three little words, his mind flashed with visions of a younger, bushy haired friend who had saved his hide on more than one occasion. A friend that he had not kept in touch with. A friend with who he desperately longed to reconnect, but was unsure she would welcome him. "Hermione?"

With tears in her eyes, and a happy smile, she lunged forward once again into the strong arms of her best friend, or at least, used to be her best friend.

The two hugged under the lamp post, on the small street, amidst a growing crowd.

They heard whisperings of "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger together!"

As they pulled apart, knowing they needed to Apparate to somewhere a bit more secluded, they smiled at each other; their hands still held together bridging the space between them. He was looking down at her and her looking up at him, both wearing adoring expressions. And that's when it happened: the flash of the camera.

OoO

H2 O. (Harry & Hermione; OH my goodness, we love this couple!) Is this the start of a beautiful romance?

Subscribe today and keep abreast of the developing romance.

Draco threw down the paper, and silently grit his teeth. He looked at the other wizards and tapped his foot in irritation. "Well?" he snapped at them.

Blaise snorted. "Well what? You want Flint to go beat up Potter?" it was said dripping with sarcasm, but Draco entertained the idea anyway.

Adrian, being the voice of reason, offered his input. "They've been friends since first year. Perhaps she hasn't seen him in a bit and they went out last night. It's not like he's her type."

That should have been enough to calm the growing anxiety among the wizards, but it only sparked Draco's temper. "Oh?" he looked pointedly at Adrian, Marcus and Blaise then motioned to himself. "And just what is her type, Pucey?"

Though all of the wizards were taller than Potter, each was drastically different in physical appearance.

Pucey with his sandy, dark blond hair that he kept styled closely cut, with some length at the top to feather to the side. His eyes were green with gold flecks, and his skin was light, but with olive undertones. He almost never burned when out in the sun. His body was athletic, and slender, and he had very little body hair.

Marcus was broad-shouldered, and thick with bulging muscles and a hairy chest. He was not stocky and his body type was proportionate. His hair was black and cropped short, but it had a rather pronounced cow lick in the center of his forehead. The Flint family did indeed have troll in their line, but it was so far back that all he inherited was size, which witches loved. His eyes were dark as shadows and his skin was white, but not overly so.

Blaise was a beautiful wizard, tall and lithe with long muscles and defined muscles. His skin was chocolate and so smooth that witches tended to want to touch his face and chest. His hands were fit for modelling and his long fingers for piano playing. He had the lightest hazel eyes that felt more cat like than they did belonging to a wizard. Hermione had told him once, that his smile took her breath away.

Draco was pale and striking, still with his white blond hair that hung across his forehead and swung freely over his ears. His eyes pierced as a silver gray, which often had him squinting or wearing sunglasses in the sunlight as they were quite sensitive. He was tall and thin and graceful.

Not one wizard could confidently answer Draco's question.