Chapter 10
How had she never known about the romance between Daphne Greengrass and Draco? It was a relationship kept quiet for two years, probably to the credit of their mothers. After the war, unflattering news was rarely printed about the Malfoys. It was rumored that Narcissa had the editor-in-chief of The Daily Prophet in her back pocket, bribing him to show the once disgraced family in only the most positive light. It explained why so little news was spread about Draco's betrothal to the youngest Greengrass sister. It was entirely through the gossip mill (Ginny) that she knew anything of it at all.

Asking Draco wasn't an option. He'd been out of town for weeks, making it much easier for her to continue seeing Marcus. He no longer seemed like the dumb brute she had judged him to be in their school days. He was eloquent and kind, funny and charming. He held her interest long after he escorted her home, and seemed to appear in her dreams every night after leaving her. There was nothing forced, nothing sexual about being with Marcus. She enjoyed herself, enjoyed him.

But didn't she enjoy her time with Draco, too?

When he was Draco, yes. When he was Malfoy, no.

His moods were hot and cold. Draco held her in the afterglow of sex. He was genuinely curious about her day. He assured her that Ron never deserved a woman like her. He fed her if she came straight to his flat from work. Draco was kind and understanding. He never pushed her to do something she wasn't comfortable doing.

Malfoy, though, was mean spirited. He reminded her of the rules she broke when she fell asleep in his bed. He was emotionless, secretive, uncaring as he slipped back into his old self. She hated Malfoy as a child, and as an adult, couldn't seem to care for him either. She hated the moment he turned from Draco to Malfoy.

Slipping on a semi-formal little black dress, she prepared herself for another evening out with Marcus. It was Theo Nott's birthday, and she was Marcus's date. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Draco would attend. Would he bring a date? He had sent a few notes while he'd been away, but not once did he mention the party. Perhaps after their last get together, Draco had decided they were done.

"Just forget him," Hermione muttered to herself as she applied a thin coat of mixed berry gloss to her lips. "You're much better off with Marcus."

Minutes later, earlier than he was supposed to arrive, Marcus knocked on the front door. With a smile on his face and a pink rose in his hand, he greeted her with a gentle, hesitant kiss. "You look beautiful," he murmured as he righted himself.

Hermione blushed as she accepted the rose. "You look pretty handsome yourself," she replied. As he led her out to the nearest Apparation point, she looked for a place to keep the flower without ruining it. Noticing her distress, Marcus took the flower, carefully broke the stem, and placed it in her curly updo.

"See? Not just a pretty face," he joked. She laughed as he Apparated them to Theo's flat. Calling it a flat seemed to do the place no justice, Hermione decided. The living room alone, furniture pushed to the side to create a dance floor, was large enough to fit her own flat plus half of the one next door. She wondered if it was done by a charm, meant to enlarge the space from inside but not out. Hermione stared at the place quizzically before Marcus confirmed her suspicions.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived. The place was crowded with people already inebriated, sweaty from dancing, and loose with their hands. Marcus placed a protective arm around Hermione's shoulders and threatened to kill the man whose hand grazed her behind. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he muttered when they reached the refreshment table.

"He's not the first guy to touch my bum," she told him, though she wasn't sure if it would help. "Besides, he didn't mean it. Let's just have fun."

And they did.

Despite Marcus's protests that he didn't dance, after a few drinks Hermione managed to persuade him to join her on the dance floor. They stood close, arms and hands and hips touching as they moved to the beat. When the crowd began to increase, Marcus led her outside for fresh air. They stood together quietly as they surveyed the few people who walked by or entered the building to join the party. Theo had charmed his flat so no noise could escape and disturb the neighbors.

It was cold, but a pleasant evening as Hermione leaned back against the hard, muscular chest of Marcus Flint. His arms wound around her waist, providing the shivering witch with a little more warmth. His breath warmed her ear as he spoke. "I think I'm falling for you, Hermione."

Slowly, she turned in his arms. Her hands rested on his chest as his heartbeat thrummed wildly beneath her palms. Had she heard him correctly? Her own heart began to pound loudly in her ears as his words played over and over in her mind. I think I'm falling for you, Hermione. How was she to reply to that? She wasn't sure she felt the same way.

But his lips upon her own took precedence over his confessions. He held her close and tight as his lips coaxed hers open. Hermione could feel the intensity he felt, the passion he had for this budding relationship. Her hands slid up from his chest to touch his throat and the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. Consumed by his kiss, neither heard the clear of an angry throat behind them. It was a hand yanking on her arm that finally separated them.

Opening her eyes, Hermione noticed that Marcus's eyes mirrored her confusion. Turning as his arms fell away from her waist, she gasped as Draco glared angrily at them. Marcus placed a protective hand on her hip, holding her close to him. Undeterred by Marcus's size, Draco took hold of Hermione's hand and pulled her away.

"Let's go, Granger," he muttered as he Disapparated with her by his side.