Disclaimer: I have collected quite a few items over time that I own and love, Harry Potter is not among them. So this entire fic is for my own amusement and (hopefully) your enjoyment, nothing more.

Chapter 7

Thursday 17th January 2002, Denmark Ministry of Magic, Department of Law Enforcement interrogation room, Marcus Flint POV

The interrogation room he had been man handled into was a carbon copy of the rooms used by the English Law Enforcement. Unfortunately Marcus had firsthand knowledge in this as after the war he had been hauled in for questioning, accused of being a Death Eater. If it wasn't for Emmaline and her father they would have all been chucked into Azkaban. The room was small and square with unremarkable symmetric grey stone walls. There were no windows and the only light source was a blindingly bright magical orb near the ceiling. Marcus was restrained in a chair on one side of a plain table in the middle of the room, on the other side sat a Danish Law Enforcer, who had yet to speak a word. Marcus really had no idea how long he had been sitting in this uncomfortable chair, with a gruff unshaven man who refused to tell him why he had been arrested. The Marcus of a few years ago would have been screaming, yelling and threatening everyone by now. Thank Merlin for age and experience. Still it would be bloody nice to know what they had him brought in for 'questioning' about. All Marcus knew was he had gone out for a quick drink at the hotel bar since he was having trouble sleeping. The next round in the Quiddich World cup was two days away and training had been especially gruelling. He hadn't even finished his first Firewhisky when the entire place was put into magical lockdown as Law Enforcement Personal came swarming into the room, confiscating wands. They then proceeded to take names, countries and occupations of all patrons. Although the taking of the wands indicated a serious crime of some type had been committed Marcus was confused but not worried as he had done nothing wrong. This completely changed after he had given his details. The mousy brown haired witch he had spoken to left, assumedly checking his information when suddenly three buff, aggressive wizards had tackled him from behind. Before Marcus could so much as blink, his arms had been pinned to his back and he was escorted to the nearest Disapparition area. Marcus had tried to get an answer for his present predicament but all his queries were ignored. Recognising the simmering anger in his voice and knowing it would be best to keep his cool, he had decided to just let the event unfold while he waited for an English representative to come.

Jolted from recent memories, Marcus suddenly realised just which fellow Englishmen would most likely be called in. Really, the job could only fall to Hermione. It was her job with the Quidditch team to handle all international affairs and he was sure that included arrests in foreign countries. Well shit! Bugger that for a not-very-funny joke. He hadn't spoken to her since New Year. He had glimpsed her in passing at the Portkey office on the way to Denmark and then once this past week at the Stadium during practice. He knew she was not at the same hotel as him since she was staying with her friend the Danish Supreme Mugwump and his Muggle wife somewhere in Muggle Copenhagen. Since New Year he had really wanted to talk to her again, but this was not the circumstance he had been envisioning. As if hearing his thoughts an irate Hermione Granger slammed through the door, her hair a bushy mess, curls practically sizzling with anger causing both Marcus and the Danish Law Enforcement officer to start in shock. Following Hermione into the room was a breathless pudgy man with a mass of iron grey hair, wheezing from exertion. Hermione spared Marcus a slight glance before demanding the restraints be lifted. The startled officer exchanged a look with pudgy man before releasing the magical restraints holding Marcus to the chair with a flick of his wand. Hermione then turned to Marcus giving him a small smile, which did little to calm his nerves before turning a fierce glare toward pudgy man again.

"I will to speak to Mr Flint alone on behalf of the English Quiddich Team. You know I have permission."

Hermione waved an official looking piece of parchment in Pudgy man's face who looked as though he was about to argue. But a terrifying look from Hermione had both him and the Law enforcement officer scurrying from the room. Finally after silencing the room with a complex spell Hermione turned her full attention toward Marcus.

"Are you ok? Have they told you what this is about?"

Shaking his head with a sigh he used the new freedom to lean both arms on the table. "No, they haven't told me anything. Do you know? I swear, I didn't do anything..." Looking at her, he realised, in a panic, he needed her to believe he was innocent.

"I know you haven't- look it is a witch hunt... or well a wizard hunt in this case. There was a Muggle woman found dead right out-"At first he was amused by her nervous stammering, Hermione Granger was not the type to stammer but her last words just made him pissed!

"What the fuck does a dead Muggle have to do with me? Oh shit... this is because of my bloody father isn't it?"

Unconsciously Marcus slammed his fist down on the table barely registering Hermione's jump of shock. "Fuck, fuck, fuck it will never end...bloody, shit FUCK!"

Holding his head in his hands, the night's events were starting to take their toll. Some poor Muggle woman was dead and because his father was a dipshit Death Eater- even overseas he was blamed. Well fuck that!

"Marcus!" Hermione's stern voice radiated through his self-pitying haze, forcing him to look up and into her chocolate eyes. Anger still radiated through his system only now it was enhanced by self-loathing and embarrassment.

"Enough! I know you didn't do this. You know you didn't do this. Hell even they know you didn't do this. That's why you haven't been formally questioned. They are attempting to gather evidence and we both know they won't find it. Denmark had some serious... issues... with on the run Death Eaters after the war. So they are overly cautious. Yes this is unfair-"

"What the fuck would you know about unfair, Miss perfect golden girl?" Her shocked expression must have matched his own as soon as the idiotic words left his lips. He instantly regretted every word.

"Gosh, you're right, what would I, a Muggleborn, often called 'The Mudblood', know about unfairness and slander?" Sarcasm and fury dripped through her icy tone as Marcus felt the anger rapidly leave him replaced by horror and regret. He had just buggered up with her again.

"Look I'm sorry- that was totally out of line..."

"You're damn right it was! But, it's OK because I understand this is a stressful situation for you... are you feeling calmer now...are you ready to listen?"

Rolling his head to the side and sneaking a glance, her eyes thankfully soft and concerned rather than the hard and angry he felt he deserved, Marcus sighed and nodded.

"Technically no one in the Danish Law Enforcement has done anything wrong. Wizarding International Law can be complex and frankly between you and I completely archaic." Hermione's head shook in disgust a scowl upon her face as she continued. "I'm not joking. At times it makes' England's Pro-Pureblood laws look fresh and innovative. Unfortunately they are well within the law to leave you here for fourteen days without requiring any explanation. Although since you are a World Cup Quidditch player, you are entitled to a few concessions, such as being allowed to speak to me."

Two weeks? They wanted to leave him here for two fucking weeks? They couldn't! He had a Quidditch game to play! Pure panic entered Marcus mind, and he barely registered as his breathing quickened and his heart constricted in fear. He did notice when small delicate hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, in a comforting gesture. Hermione seemed to be talking to him, but try as he might he couldn't understand her words due to the loud pounding of terror throbbing his head.

Finally his mouth appeared to work and he managed to croak out, "I can't...please, Hermione... do something."

"That's not going to happen, trust me." Those same small perfect hands that occupied his dreams had taken a firm grasp of his chin, forcefully lifting his face, so there eyes met.

"Marcus, you need to calm down and listen to me, ok?"

He couldn't tear his gaze from hers, much as he wanted to just wallow in his own panic. But he couldn't because her eyes displayed only truth. Merlin, she was so beautiful, and she wanted him to calm down. It was hard; Marcus had never been a trusting person. However, he forced himself to be pulled from an all-consuming void of terror just in time to scowl at the pudgy dipshit as he re-entered the room.

Hermione's eyes immediately hardened. "Mr Nielson, I hope you bring good news. I have been taking to Mr Flint and he is very concerned about being able to leave as soon as possible due to the upcoming Quidditch game. On behalf of the English Quidditch Team and indeed the English Ministry of Magic I must inform you we will not be pleased if our star chaser is detained with no evidence this close to a very important match." The man looked scared, not that Marcus was surprised, he wouldn't have liked being on the receiving end of that statement by the famous Hermione Granger. It wasn't that Hermione had shouted or even raised her voice but there was a chilling tone and finality to her statement which seemed to promise an unspoken retribution.

"Miss Granger, I am sure you of all people would understand our concern. His father-"

Marcus hissed in anger as Hermione sent a warning glare Marcus' way, before interrupting the other man.

"If you have evidence that Henrix Flint has escaped Azkaban, by all means bring him in for questioning. However I fail to see what Marcus Flint has to do with this. My father is a Muggle dentist, do you know what a dentist is Mr Nielson?"

The man looked miserable and suspicious as he shook his head, clearly concerned as to where this line of conversation was leading.

"The best way to describe a dentist is a Muggle teeth healer. Now I assure you Mr Nielson that despite both my parents being dentists, I have no interest in extracting Muggles' teeth."

Both Nielson and Marcus blanched at the thought, while Hermione continued her tirade.

"My father is also, in a typically mundane fashion popular of Muggles, obsessed with golf. Golf, if you are unaware, is a Muggle sport where you hit a tiny ball with a long stick and attempt to place it in a hole. So perhaps if you are suggesting that if we are all like our fathers, I should become a teeth extracting, ball hitting, hole finding Muggle?"

The man was gaping at Hermione clearly unsure how to argue back, Hermione's head was tilted slightly, eye brow raised in challenge. After a few seconds she sighed, looking disappointed in her opponent's lack of debating skills.

Everyone jumped as the door slammed open once more and a dark haired woman with a kind, round face entered the room. Her robes were expensive and clearly tailored, identifying her as a person of high rank. Marcus felt her entrance could only bring him trouble at the present time and his heart sank. Hermione, by comparison, sent the women a bright smile and almost expectant eyebrow raise in question. Nielson had practically jumped to attention at her arrival further highlighting her apparent importance within the Danish Ministry.

The unknown women with near perfect English highlighted by her Danish accent spoke to the pudgy man first. "Let Mr Flint go, Nielson, the perpetrator has been caught."

Marcus was not sure what to think or do as Nielson looked shocked and spluttered a little, but the women ignored him and turned her attention toward Marcus.

"Mr Flint my name is Isliadora Mikkelsen, Senior Undersecretary to the Danish Minister of Magic. On behalf of my country I would like to offer you an apology for your detention and any inconvenience this may have caused."

Marcus, head was still spinning from this quick change of events, so he could only nod at her before looking at Hermione to assess the truth of the women's claims. He knew who the mysterious woman was now. Her brother was the Danish Supreme Mugwump with whom Hermione was staying. In response to his silent question Hermione graced him with one of her breathtaking smiles and Marcus finally felt himself relax as he quickly stood up out of the damned chair. If they were letting him go he wanted out of there- fast.

"Right, so does that mean I can go?"

Hermione nodded her head at him, "Yes we will leave right now. Thank you Islia, I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?"

The woman nodded her head toward Hermione with a smile, although Hermione attention had already moved toward the room's other male occupant.

"Mr Nielson, I wish I could say a pleasure but we both know it would be a lie."All civility seemed to leave Hermione as she spoke to the man, which showed previous issues prior to the evening's drama.

"Good luck in your game, Mr Flint, I am an avid follower of Quidditch and am looking forward to watching you play. Naturally due to our friendship with Hermione, both my brother and I will be supporting Britain... Neither of us wants to be on her bad side." Hermione snorted while Isliadora sent her a wink before sweeping out of the room with a regal air, robes billowing behind her. Nielson hurriedly following her, not sparing a glance in either Marcus' or Hermione's direction.

"Can we leave now?" Hermione laughed and led the way as together they left the detested room he felt he'd occupied for days rather than hours. Marcus had no idea how to navigate the labyrinth that was the bowels of the Danish Ministry and, surprisingly, the other two were nowhere in sight, most likely having a secret staff-only exit. He hoped Hermione knew where she was going. He needn't have worried as they silently walked side by side along the wide stone lined, candle lit corridor.

"Are you alright?" Hermione's soft and concerned voice filled the dark hallway as they continued their journey.

"I'm not sure. Can I get back to you later?" Hermione slowly nodded her head as they continued to walk.

No words were spoken, the only sound being light footsteps against the hard stone floor echoing down the corridor. Marcus was hardly aware that they had entered the elevator, or when they walked through the Danish Ministry's atrium. It came as a shock when Marcus suddenly found himself standing in front of a large stone fireplace used to transport Ministry workers to and from work.

Turning her head toward him, Hermione gave him a brief smile, "Don't worry about anything Marcus. I will handle the politics. Just focus on Quidditch, and trust me."

Really, anything past getting to his hotel room had yet to bother him. Still, almost as though with a mind of its own, Marcus' hand grasped hers causing the witch to let out a small gasp. His eyes sought hers in desperation; he had an overwhelming need to let her know just how thankful he was that she had been there for him this evening.

"I do trust you. Thank you, for getting me out of there."

Still locked within the cinnamon depths of her eyes, he watched as she nodded before slowly bringing forth her head to place a light chaste kiss upon his cheek. An intense fluttering broke outin his stomach at the touch of her soft, pink lips. He wasn't sure how long they stood like that, his large calloused hand encompassing her small delicate one. There gazes piercing and breathing shallow. His next words flew from his lips, he just couldn't help himself. He had to ask, had to try, just once.

"Go on a date with me."

Hermione's eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in surprise. He barely heard her whisper, "What?"

"One dinner, just to see…" His words trailed off the unspoken thought of desperately wanting to know her better left dangling in the air.

Their eyes were still locked. Marcus was sure he had never been so captivated by a girl, and certainly never hoped so hard for a yes to one little date. Had he not been so apprehensive the obvious concentration on Hermione's face as she clearly used her brilliant mind to analyse his request might have been amusing. At least she didn't say no straight out.

"Nowhere in our world." Hermione's answer was as much a challenge as an acceptance.

In any other circumstance this may have been insulting. But Marcus understood and it made complete sense. Was that yes?

"I know a great Muggle place." He wondered if she was aware her hand was still encased firmly in his, as she nodded her head in response. If he hadn't been watching her face so intently, he may have missed it but Marcus was convinced he saw her mouth move and the faintest whisper,

"OK." Before she shook her head, unclasped her hand from his and spoke with a more forceful tone, although there was still a stunned undercurrent. "OK, next weekend… we will have dinner- together."

The night had been long and he wondered if he stayed there she might change her mind. Realising he would have to leave before her he reached out and took a handful of Floo powder. Sending the motionless surprised women one last look before grinning, "I will owl you."Marcus stepped into the fire and disappeared into his hotel room.

A/N- The absolute first thing I must say is Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who reviewed! I couldn't take a stunned, happy smile off my face for two days as reviews kept appearing, it was amazing!

Also another massive thank you to the wonderful blue artemis for her beta of this chapter!

So he finally asked her on a date, only took the boy 7 chapters! Can you tell I like slow builds better then quick ones? In my original plan Marcus wasn't meant to ask her out to dinner for another chapter at the Quidditch Match, but I decided it was unnecessary, and I liked the idea of stressful emotions making poor Marcus finally crack and ask her out. A good end to a very bad night!

Thank you for reading

lady innogen