Chapter Four
Wine, the ultimate frenemy. It provided comfort through the night, literally filling cups after the world viciously empties them. But then the morning comes and the once sympathetic ear shows its duplicitous self, always ready to kick a person when they're down. And every single time Hermione fell for its jewel colored lies.
Groaning as the grey morning skies began to lighten and lay siege to her over sensitive eyes, she pulled the duvet over herself like a feeble shield. Turning onto her stomach as if pretending morning hadn't come would spare her the memories of the night before, she added an extra layer of protection and shoved her head under her pillow.
She knew better than to over indulge, having learned long ago how vicious the bite of her hangover was. Still, she had caved and fell apart the night before giving in not only to the pretty promises of a good bottle of merlot but glutting herself on her past. Why she even held onto the mementos of her first love she no longer knew. At the start they existed to remind her that it had all been real, at least to her. That Marcus hadn't been some elaborate fever dream. Then it served as a reminder of why love wasn't a thing to set one's ambitions on. No matter how hard someone worked at it, it only shone its favor on a select few, leaving the rest broken and out in the cold looking in on what they could never have. But now; now she didn't have an answer for herself. At least not beyond the notion of knowing that the why of it all would plague her and hold her prisoner until she finally held the dissected truth.
Unlike the tokens of his affection, the house was easy to answer. And in the beginning that answer had even been a logical one. Following the war however, all reason escaped her. She should have sold it to front her half of the business's start up costs instead of tapping into her Order of Merlin money. But when she had sat down with Blaise, laying their assets out for Lavender to crunch, she had adamantly refuted the idea. For all the heavy ghosts that wandered about, it was still her home. The only one she was left with after partially losing her place within the Granger residence and family and she couldn't part with it. Losing it was like losing a part of herself and she had already sacrificed enough pieces to Marcus. He wasn't allowed to have this one too. And she had made sure that if he ever came looking for the cottage that had once held their dreams, all he would find was a pile of rubble and a paper trail of her having dumped the pile of stone and rock shortly after he had dumped her.
Hearing a soft pop of Apparition outside her partially cracked window, she yelled, "I'm alive, Blaise! Now, go away!"
"Guess again, babe," Lavender called up from the entryway a moment later.
Growling under the pillow, she ungraciously asked, "What do you want, Lav?"
"To offer you a hangover potion and a greasy breakfast."
"Come on up then," she conceded, her angry stomach perking up at the promise of a fry up.
"You're really going to make a pregnant witch climb these rickety stairs?"
Popping up from under the pillow, Hermione shot back, "Like that baby would stop you if you really wanted to come up here. You clothes-lined a woman for the last pair of Jimmy Choos at Harrods on Boxing Day."
"Yeah and she was a stranger. You're my best mate, just think what I'll do to you."
"Okay, that's fair," she relented, swinging her legs out of the bed and taking the duvet with her like a cape.
As she came down the stairs, Lavender gave her the most pitiful look as she bluntly informed, "Oh honey, you look like shite."
"Thanks," she grumbled, making her way over to the couch.
Finding the rest of the incriminating evidence of her night still sitting out, she picked up her wand from where she had abandoned it and flicked it at the mess. With all the pictures, flowers, love notes, and her journal from that year tucking themselves away, she collected the box and collapsed onto the couch, laying her head down in Lavender's lap as the blonde came to sit beside her.
"How'd you know I was here?" she asked, accepting the miracle vial of hangover relief.
"Ades — that bloody wanker —showed up at our place last night looking for you. Considering he was supposed to be out with you, it piqued our curiosity as to how he could have lost you. So imagine my surprise when that two pump chump prick told us he ambushed you with Marcus last night."
"He actually has rather good stamina," she absently corrected as Lavender pinched her shoulder and scolded, "Hermione! As of last night we hate him! Do not help him. Merlin witch, it's like you're incapable of speaking ill about the wizards you invite into your bed."
"I just figure they can dig a grave well enough on their own. I don't need to be there ready to pour the dirt over them."
"Yes, actually you do. It's a law."
"Oh is it now? I must have missed that one during my thousands of hours of legal revision."
"Good thing you have me to remind you of it then," her friend congratulated proudly. Pulling out a to-go container, she opened it up and waved it under Hermione's nose as she tempted, "Come on now, you need to eat up so we can get you ready."
"I don't have anything on my schedule until after lunch. I had planned on taking the morning to engage in part two of my wallowing."
Unable to pass up the aroma of fried mushrooms and breakfast beans, she relented to Lavender's dangling of the food and sat up. Stuffing the duvet down around her lap, she took her first bite, moaning over the saucy beans.
"Oh Merlin's beard, this is worse than I thought."
Stuffing a fatty rasher into her mouth, she knew her mother was cringing all the way in Hampstead as she asked, "What's worse?"
Picking at the shoulder of Marcus's old school jersey, she sneered, "You brought out this thing."
Snarling back at her friend, Hermione continued to eat, the potion and food doing wonders in curing her wine induced ailment.
"Did I judge you when you bought a bottle of Blasie's cologne and would spray it on yourself before bed? No, so piss off."
"Blaise wasn't an arsehole."
Throwing a piece of toast at her friend, Hermione petulantly agreed, "I hate it when you're right."
"I know you do, babe."
Brushing the crumbs from her hands, she picked the plastic fork back up and continued to sate her ravenous appetite and prompted, "So Ades went in search of me and told you about how he threw Marcus at me after I repeatedly told him no."
Snatching the vine of blistered tomatoes, the blonde continued, "Right. So he told us that and Blaise punched him in the face — which was so hot by the way. I just love it when he gets like that. Then after refusing to tell him where you went, he left for Merlin only knows where and we decided to give you the night. We were even going to give you the morning but Blaise went out to see if Starbucks had any of those sugarplum thingies still tucked away and you'll never guess who he saw there!"
Already knowing exactly who her friend could have seen that would have sent his wife scurrying over while still in her pajamas, Hermione placed the container of food on the coffee table to lay back down in Lavender's lap.
"Marcus," she answered, her voice despondent.
"Yep," Lavender confirmed, running her fingers through Hermione's knotted curls, attempting to untangle them. "The Sequoia of Slytherin himself. And after being the best husband and friend we could ask for and steadfastly ignoring that quidditch brute, Blaise was walking back home and saw that man-whore sitting outside the office nursing a cup of coffee while eating my baby's sugarplum danish!"
"That bastard!"
"I know! Like who does that?" Lavender demanded, the both of them laughing.
Sobering as she turned onto her back, Hermione looked into her friend's already motherly blue eyes and quietly confessed, "I can't see him again, Lav. I could barely hold it together last night as it was and then he called me angel..."
"You can and you will," she said sternly. "Last night was an ambush. No one would have been ready for what Adrian did to you. But now you know what to expect and can't be taken by surprise again.
"You're a queen and queens turn pain into power. Now go put on your baddest Louboutins, remember who the fuck you are, and let's go conquer the world."
Knowing there was no arguing with Lavender when she put on her tough love act, Hermione sighed and hefted herself off the couch, trudging her way back up to the loft. That was the beauty of their friendship. They both knew when the other needed to be coddled and when they needed a swift kick in the bum.
Refortified under her friend's bolstering, she wasted no time in showering and donning her armor for the day. With the distressed skinny jeans she had stuffed into her purse the night prior resting low on her hips, a black strappy top that draped and cowled over her chest, her layers of necklaces, and the structured blazer that pulled her otherwise casual look together for the office, she came back downstairs with the aforementioned red soled heels dangling from her fingers as she twisted her hair into a loose updo.
"Perfect," Lavender complemented. "You're going to kill him."
"Here's hoping," she cheersed with her shoes, balancing first on one foot then the other as she slipped them on, rising over four inches in height.
"Now then, you go handle your shite with the thickest wizard to have ever graced the halls of Hogwarts. You tell him what's what and that the only quidditch player we're currently taking on is who ever's looking to snatch his spot flying for Montrose. And not that I think you'll need it, but Blaise will be in the office as back up in case Marcus tries to use his cock magic on you. So just say the word and he'll come running."
"His, 'cock magic?' Really?" she laughed, checking her handbag's contents before shouldering it.
"Yeah, why else would witches be so eager to fall into bed with the broom everyone and their mother has gotten a ride from?"
"Just the other day you said he had a small prick."
Waving her hand to dismiss Hermione's words, Lavender explained, "Come on, you know our business. It's all about spinning the current news cycle."
"Merlin, you're incorrigible," she said, shaking her head as she locked up the cottage.
"And you love me for it," Lavender smiled, bringing her in for a hug. "I'll see you later this morning to help conquer the world. I'm going back to bed for a bit first though. While this is a vast improvement to morning sickness, I'm still adjusting to no longer being able to sleep on my stomach."
Cupping the warm cocoon that was growing her godchild, Hermione cooed, "You listen to your auntie, little muffin, and be nice to your mummy. If you are, I'll buy you all the noisy toys."
"And she can play with them at your house and give you the headache," the blonde chided just before they both Disapparated with twin cracks.
In the designated Apparition zone that was half a block away from her office, Hermione checked her clothes and made minor adjustments to her appearance as she delayed her second meeting with Marcus in just over twelve hours after a decade of avoidance. Twisting her charm bracelet around her wrist by the shrunken promise ring, she debated its placement for only a second before removing it. With it tucked away on her keychain and hidden within a snug pocket inside her purse, she walked out of the alley and towards her office, each step strengthening her as she separated her personal self from that of her professional self.
Lavender had been right. Last night was not indicative of how things would proceed with Marcus. Adrian had hung her out to dry, giving his friend and client the high ground, but he was on her pitch now. Inside the office space of Golden Fire Solutions, she had the advantage and planned to use it to the best of her ability. She buried secrets and brokered deals on behalf of the Minister of Magic. Her first and only love turned quidditch bad boy and notorious man-whore would be laughably easy to manage by comparison.
Armed and dressed for war with the indifferent mask of a Slytherin affixed to her face and a cloak of Gryffindor courage wrapped around her body, Hermione stepped into the reception area of her firm. Not sparing a glance in the direction of their receiving room but her body acutely aware of Marcus's large and familiar presence, she continued to her office, heels clicking against the hard floor like sharpened daggers. Then once she was through the threshold and in her den of power, she turned around ready to beckon him to her like a scolded dog only to find that he had managed to silently follow her and stood only inches away, effortlessly towering over her despite her French-made assistance.
With her heart thundering in her chest, she took a step back in an effort to not only create more space between them but to clear her senses of his all encompassing spell. The dark blond of his hair; the ocean color of his eyes; his full, nearly too large lips that still looked as soft as she remembered; the alluring scent of his woodsy cologne and the faint traces of broom oil. It was all Marcus as he had been at eighteen but somehow more. The interviewing ten years having been far too kind on his looks.
Lavender had placed faith in her that she wouldn't fall under his cock magic, yet in the suddenly too small confines of her office she realized she was at risk of just that. And as he took a step to re-close the gap she had created, Hermione found herself caught in his snare, her earlier determination zapped as the corners of his mouth began to pull back in one of her favorite smiles — the dimpled one that would reveal his still partially crooked teeth.
"You look good, Hermione," he said, his voice an intimate caress to her ears. "Even more beautiful than I remember. Though that's no surprise; success and intelligence have always agreed with you."
Taking another step as her head began to fog under his steady gaze, she bumped into the edge of her desk. With her retreat impeded unless she wanted to duck under his arms which had closed her in — his large hands sealing his cage as they stretched across the wood of her desk — she was trapped. There was escaping him — there never had been — and if she were honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to now that she had him back in front of her, her magic crackling through her rapidly heating veins.
But as he had done shortly after the news broke of him signing with the Magpies when the war ended and just a few months ago when she saw his tattoo on the cover of Witch Weekly, Marcus wasted no time in making sure she plummeted back to reality. Swooping in through the upper window, an owl from the Daily Prophet dropped the morning's edition on her desk, the bold letters of the day's above the fold title catching her attention.
Marcus Flint, Lead Chaser of the Magpies, Caught with His Pants Down.
When Will Enough Be Enough for the Montrose Based Team?
And judging from the blurred out picture that accompanied the title, they meant literally.
Pushing back from her and dropping into one of her chairs, he scrubbed his hands over his face before gesturing to the paper, saying, "See? Do you see this? I don't even know how they get half the shite they do. And this here, this didn't even happen last night. I was here in Edinburgh, you fucking saw me at the restaurant."
Picking up the article and scanning its details without really taking them in, she snidely offered, "Well maybe if you had learned to keep it in your pants, this wouldn't be happening," while silently shouting at herself for having been so easily manipulated by him again.
"This is serious, Hermione. I need your help, please. Regardless of our history, you were the only one who ever believed in me. I need that from you now. Contracts are already being discussed and signed and I haven't had a single offer. Not to mention, selections for the National Team are about to commence and there hasn't even been a whisper of my name being in the running."
Folding up the paper and tossing it aside, as she perched herself on the corner of her desk, she held her hands out and asked, "I don't know what you want me to do, Marcus. You've made many beds over the years, go pick one to lay in and suffer the consequences because I'm not helping you."
"Why not?"
"If you actually have to ask that, you're as stupid as everyone claimed back in school," she replied, the cruelness of her words shocking her.
"Yeah and it looks like you've decided to live up to your reputation of being a heartless bitch, so I guess we're both a disappointment." Standing up from her chair, he looked at her as if he didn't recognize her and quietly said, "If this is who you are now, I'm glad things ended between us. You've changed, angel, and not for the better. Have a good day," his words trapping her breath in her chest as he left her office.