DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.

Thank you to all who reviewed and enjoyed the last chapter. Things are about to get a bit more...shall we say...angsty in this installment. On with the show!

NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
Chapter 14 - The Odd Uneven Time

"Aye, brother, ye do whinge," Walden said, as he dashed up the stairs with very little effort. From over his shoulder, Hermione looked down at Lucius, who was puffing a bit, attempting to keep up. "I agree," she added.

Once they all reached Lucius' suite yet again, and Walden had set her down, Hermione closed the door behind them. "I'm going to do the wards this time. Are you expecting any other visitors?"

"None that I can think of," Lucius said, as he moved over in the direction of his wardrobe, unbuttoning his outer robe all the while.

"You'd better call your elves to make sure they don't intrude," she said, as she pulled out her wand.

"Yes, yes-" he began, as he headed toward the door.

"And owls, they don't come up here, do they?"

"Certainly not," he said, as he opened the door slightly. "They deliver only to the drawing room, as is proper!" He snapped his fingers-the elves appeared and stood before him, waiting for instruction.

"How about this fireplace," Hermione said, gesturing in its direction as she continued to pace the room, her wand held high in the air. "Is it connected to the Floo Network?" "No!" he snapped, and turned toward the elves, muttering something which Hermione fervently hoped was polite.

"It doesn't look as if you have any portraits in here," she continued. The windows were already covered with thick, heavy green velvet curtains, which she warded, just in case. "Do these tapestries, er, do anything?"

"They hang there and ornament the walls," Lucius said. He'd stripped out of his two robes and tossed them on a chair, and was preparing to step out of his trousers.

"Ye doona need to be snippy, lad," Walden said. He'd already undressed and was stretched out on the bed. "But the both of ye need ta get over here before too long," he added.

"If those bells ring again," Hermione began, as she waved her wand and performed a silent Devestire, "It had better be a bona-fide emergency." Before she was able to approach Walden, Lucius intercepted her. "I don't care if the bloody Dark Lord comes crawling out of the loo! You're not going over there yet!" He grabbed her and pulled her into a firm embrace...and his kisses were smoother and richer than the velvet hangings on the bed toward which he was currently nudging her. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Walden, who was intently watching, his hand fisted around his empurpled cock. Soon, she was on the bed between them...and they spent the rest of that afternoon in rapturous pleasure. She learned Slytherin's special charm, plus a host of others...they'd decided that it was best, for monitoring purposes, to have Hermione perform all the spells. By the time they rested-as Hermione's head was pillowed on Walden's chest, and her feet were being expertly massaged by Lucius-she concluded that it had really been worth the wait, and she wondered if she'd be able to talk them into possibly taking more potion that evening.

It turned out that they were very easily persuaded, and thus Thursday and early Friday passed in a haze of endorphins, rich food and sensuality. By the time Walden and Hermione headed over to his parents' for supper, they were exhausted as well as completely debauched.

"Before we go in there," Walden began, as he ran his hands through his hair, "Ye should know that me Da doesna care for Lucius-he always refers to him as the Sassenach, and he doesna want to hear him mentioned, ever." They were standing on the top of the steps at Rait Castle-the portcullis hadn't opened yet. Walden had explained that they could have used the Floo, but he preferred to wait a bit before confronting his father. It was, of course, cold and rainy, so Hermione shivered in her cloak.

"Foreigner, isn't that what that means? I thought it had to do with Saxons."

"Aye, it does, it really just means English, now, and it's nae always verra nice, nae as bad as, er, ye know, that word for Muggleborn, but when me Da says it, it's close enough ta being a curse, because, well, he knows what happened in Azkaban." Walden's lips were in a thin line after he made that utterance. Hermione chose not to remark upon it, because, of course, during the last day or so, she'd gotten rather a few glimpses of what Walden and Lucius had been to each other...not that it bothered her.

"So we'll just say that we've been having a rather nice time together and leave it at that," Hermione said. "Er, do we need to call Binkus? I'm a little cold," she added.

"Och! I'm sorry," he said, pulling the cloak off his shoulders and draping it around hers, before waving his wand toward the portcullis, which obligingly began raising. As they waited, he enclosed her in his arms from behind. Gavin was waiting for them in the doorway, a rather large smile on his face when he saw how they were standing together. "Welcome, lass!" he said. "Son, it's awful out here, why didna ye just Floo over?"

"Needed some fresh air," Walden muttered, as he led Hermione toward the table.

Supper was a rather informal affair-Walden and his father discussed Quidditch, and Hermione fielded Elspeth's questions about her parents. When the two wizards pulled out their pipes, and coffee and pudding were served, Gavin spoke up, peering curiously at both of them.

"That Potter lad came by the other day for yer parole meeting," he finally said. "Told him ye still lived here. Thought ye had that other Auror, Dawlish, in charge of ye?"

"I did," Walden said. "Got transferred to Potter, doona know why."

Pretty sure I have a clue, Hermione thought, as she stirred sugar into her coffee. "Dawlish is fairly unpleasant," she said. "There have been complaints."

"Potter was all right," Gavin said. "He seemed satisfied with what I told him-I said I thought ye were down in London, didna want to disturb ye two," and he winked at Hermione. "Showed him yer room upstairs, served him some tea and he left."

"He was verra polite," Elspeth confirmed.

"He always has been," Hermione said. Desperate to change the subject, she said, "So, er, Walden, I forgot to tell you, I need to go to, er, Diagon Alley tomorrow to pick up some things for the trip...er, can I get you anything?" She actually needed to go to St. Mungo's to take her monthly contraceptive potion, but certainly wasn't going to mention that in front of his parents.

"Nay, I'm good," Walden said, as he puffed on his pipe. "As long as ye're at the Portkey Office on Monday at 9," and he chuckled.

"Why don't ye come back here while she's out tomorrow, son?" Elspeth said. "We want to talk to ye about how things are going to go once Evan and Heather are back."

"Ye can say any of that in front of the lass, Mum," Walden replied. "She's already helped me air out Evan's room and set it up. We also fixed up a guest room, because in her last owl, Heather said she and Melissa were plannin' to live at the lodge for right now. I was hopin' ye'd set up me room over here for Evan when he visits."

"Of course, son," Elspeth said.

"Doona see why they canna all live here," Gavin said. "I'd be glad to make room for 'em."

"Because he wants to spend some time with his children without us in the way, husband," Elspeth said. "He hasna seen them in ten years!"

Hermione watched the interplay between the Macnairs silently, feeling rather like an interloper, as if she'd climbed over a fence to view an exclusive tennis match. It was obvious that the time she'd been spending with Walden was essentially a holiday, and the end was looming. Would he even want her to come back to his lodge once his son and his daughter and her girlfriend had all returned? How would he explain her presence to any of them? What was she to him, really? He'd said he loved her and continued to say it every day, whenever they kissed and especially when they were intimate...the last time, he'd said it in English, in front of Lucius, who had discreetly looked away and pretended he hadn't heard. He never expected a reply and she wasn't sure what she'd say if he waited for one. She most certainly had fond feelings for him. He was everything she'd thought she always wanted in a romantic partner, despite the overwhelmingly negative burden of his past...but, she hadn't bothered to tell one of her oldest and dearest friends about their relationship-she'd flat-out, uncharacteristically, lied about it, and she'd planned to continue lying if Harry asked her. Hopefully, Ginny would preserve her secret. Clearly, Walden's parents had figured out her desire for secrecy right away, as had Walden and Lucius.

And, of course, speaking of parents, there was the matter of hers, currently known as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She'd located them straight away on the Internet and used Google Earth to view their house (which was very pleasant). Attempting to explain all that to Walden had been a miserable failure; he'd thrown his hands up, made a face, and said, "I know the Muggles carry around wee boxes...nay, never mind, doona try to explain any more ta me, never took that class...no Slytherins ever do, ye know!" She'd finally just said she'd need to reverse a charm once she got there. Walden had then confirmed the disturbing information that Rowle had earlier imparted to her, that the Death Eaters had planned to try and locate her parents, and Dolohov had been the one assigned to that. She'd shuddered. "He's an odd one," Walden had added, with a grimace. "Was next to him in Azkaban. He liked to watch..." and he let his voice drift off, raising his eyebrow a slight bit, before finishing with, "Er, he's back there now, I heard."

That was actually the last thought she'd given to her parents, just before she and Walden had left for Malfoy Manor. How would they react when she spoke to them? She'd been planning to lift the enchantment before she even knocked on their door, so that they'd know her, but how to explain exactly why she'd left them in Australia even after the war had ended? She recalled speaking to Kingsley about it; he'd recommended that course of action due to the possible chance of retaliation from rogue bands of Death Eaters or sympathisers...and then the years full of work had intervened. Sometimes entire months had passed when she'd not thought of anything other than the trials and the paperwork and the mindless bits of telly she'd managed to watch in her nearly non-existent free time.

In the meantime, they apparently had a rather rich and full life in Brisbane, including part-time work at a charity dental practice. Would they even want to return to the UK? And once she did talk to them-if Walden happened to be with her-how would she explain him? Her parents had known about Voldemort and his supporters, so if the subject came up in conversation, there was no way they could avoid...

"Hermione, lass?" Walden was saying, and apparently had said more than once. "Er, shall we head home?" He was standing up, both their cloaks in his hands. The table was clear, and his parents had already left. He called it home, she thought. Of course, it was his home. But it wasn't hers. Her barren flat hardly rated the name. Did she even really have a place she could call home? Once upon a time, she'd felt comfortable at the Burrow, but that was long past.

Later, as they lay together in bed, he said, "After dinner, lass, ye were sittin' next to us but ye were a million miles away, I could tell."

"I was...well, I was thinking about, er...my parents, and if they're likely to come back with me...and, er, what I'm supposed to say to them about...um, about a lot of things..." and she hated herself for it but she blushed.

He turned to her. "About me, ye mean."

There was simply no point in lying to Walden. They'd seen each other in their most vulnerable states. "Yes."

"I know they're Muggles, what do they know about, well, about our world?" Although she'd heard him repeatedly state that he was reformed with regard to his political views, she was nevertheless still pleased to hear him include her as part of the magical community in casual conversation.

"I told them a lot. They've seen it, too. Professor McGonagall brought my Hogwarts letter and spoke to them. They've been to Diagon Alley and to Platform 9 and 3/4. They've met Harry and all the Weasleys. And Lucius saw them once at Flourish and Blotts, but, of course, he didn't exactly speak to them..."

"Did ye tell them before ye bewitched them and sent them away, about what was going on then?"

"They knew things were getting dangerous." Her father had actually likened the situation to the troubles in Northern Ireland, which, she thought, had been a rather apt analogy. That had been part of the very last conversation she'd had with them, come to think of it. "I showed them a copy of the Daily Prophet and told them about Dumbledore." That had been the point at which her father had gotten rather upset and had also been the night when she'd started formulating her plan for getting them away to safety.

"So if I met them, they would know what I used ta be," Walden said.

"Well...we hadn't gotten round to talking about this, but I hadn't thought you'd want to meet them-I mean, I suppose I figured once we got to Melbourne, and I went with you to find your son, then, I'd just be going off to Brisbane to see about Mum and Dad and, er, that would be, that would be it." "It" being, of course, the end of her vacation from her job and most likely the end of her relationship...or whatever it was...with Walden.

"If that's what ye want, lass," Walden said, and he abruptly got out of bed and put on his lounging robe. "Gonna go to the loo and then get a snack," he added, but he didn't smile and he didn't look back at her as he exited the room.