There was some awkwardness afterwards. Marcus expected it. The comfortable silence between them lasted through the clothes-gathering and the separate showers. Then Granger went downstairs to organise something and to pace around the kitchen.
He kept out of her way, labouring over a letter from the Magpies' manager. Cormack McLeod was not a man to accept anything gracefully. He sacked players for defiance over the slightest infraction. Some of the team called him the 'Dark Lord' behind his back. Though never around Marcus.
The Marriage Law would cripple the team. Maddock, a Muggle-born, had been kicked out over his obsession with Muggle balls. That left the Campbell brothers the only ones who were not pure-bloods, and Angus had only joined the team that summer.
McLeod's missive was half profanity, half threat. Marcus picked through it wishing it was a Howler. At least the nasty little red envelopes got to the point.
"Fuck you too." The wizard snarled when he finally finished. McLeod had given him an ultimatum, given Brun, Maconne, Cabot and Liang the same command. Find wives in accordance with the legislation, find them before the League resumed play after the holiday break, or be fired.
"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked as Marcus cast a fire-making charm on the scroll he had been reading. He shook his head in reply, still cursing under his breath as he swept the ash into his palms. Marching outside, he scattered the remains over the garden before visibly taking himself in hand.
"Nothing you can fix." He was terse but not unkind.
"I signed the decree." She said quietly, transfiguring his frustration into offended pride.
"You do not need to make an honest man of me, Granger." Did she think him bedding her was a play to strong-arm her into marriage? Marcus unconsciously squared his shoulders as he girded for battle. She was not going to do this simply because they had shagged.
"I signed it yesterday." Hermione faced him down, 5'2 to 6'4, and won. His stance eased but he did not regard her with any amity.
"Because I stayed."
"Yes, and because you took my word for it. That's rare coin among my friends." Hermione had started the conversation with her arms crossed. She uncrossed them now, not wanting to seem confrontational but then she did not know what to do with her hands. "Look, I..." She straightened. "I had a variety of reasons for my decision. And I will get the law rescinded. But in the meantime, let's make the best of a bad lot."
Marcus stared at her. He remembered a fearless twelve year old with fluffy hair rubbing Malfoy's nose in his father's nepotism. She had grown up but she had not changed. He was a lucky man.
"Thank you, milady." He bowed, unwilling to make this debt feel any less weighty than it was.
"None of that, please." Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Just play Quidditch and spread the word. If you know anyone who has legal experience or is willing to confront the Ministry with me, I'd appreciate the reinforcements. I'm going to need a parliament of owls to deal with this mess." She rubbed her neck. "And I must speak with Ron and Harry as soon as possible."
"Want me there?" Marcus did not have much imagination. It was not an asset for a child reared among Death Eaters. But he could picture the Golden Boys' reactions to the new Madam Flint.
"I would rather you weren't present for me telling my boyfriend I cheated on him." It stung her to have done that to Ron. It stung her that she had so easily pushed him from her mind. "Ron is going to be angry, as he has every right to be. I want this between him and I. If you're there, he'll blame you."
"Let him." The Slytherin saw no difficulty with taking the blast for this. "No need to fall on your sword when you have an asp to hand."
"Absolutely not." Hermione heard her voice rise in pitch. Countless people had remarked on how shrill she could be. She was trying to abate that as it was not a great communication strategy. "I did this. I will own it. I will explain to Ron and accept the consequences. He's one of my best friends. I won't hurt him more by pretending this was anything else but me being selfish."
"That is not how it looks to me." Deep breath in. Hold. Deep breath out. No hexing beggarly gingers.
"Marcus, I'm sorry, but Ron won't give a damn about why I slept with you and the marriage will only make it worse." Hermione winced inside with every word. That she had not planned to be unfaithful was a feeble excuse. "I have to be honest with him."
"You are so Gryffindor it hurts to watch." Marcus did not think it funny but he had to laugh. "Very well. To your crusade go." He pulled his signet ring off his right hand, crossing the room in two strides to give it to her. "I do not expect you to wear it but it will get you past the manorial wards. If you need somewhere to weather the storm, you are the lady of manor."
"Thanks." Hermione closed her fingers around the heavy ring, not looking at it. "I shouldn't put this off. If I go now, it'll be Saturday morning. Ron will be at the Burrow for brunch."
Hermione was grateful Marcus did not try to talk her out of it. They used the portkey and walked quickly out of her parents' house without looking at anything. Even locking the front door make her feel raw and hollow as though something had been ripped out of her.
They Disapparated from a blind lane between a newsagent and a bottle shop. Marcus went to the Montrose clubhouse to get McLeod off his back. Hermione went to Ottery St. Catchpole and walked to the Burrow, hoping the brisk air would clear her head.
She told herself it was better to speak to Ron where he felt comfortable, rather than at the crowded flat he shared with the other trainee Aurors or in some public space with reporters around every corner. The Burrow was snug, brunch was a familiar ritual and she was welcome there. Hermione wondered how long that would last once she confessed what she had done.
As luck would have it, she caught sight of him sitting on the garden wall idly brushing snow off the drystone. He did not look up until she was standing in front of him and when he did, Hermione took a step back.
"Don't bother." Ron snapped. "I already know."
"I was coming to tell you." She got the words out quickly, defensively before the anger burning in his blue eyes sparked a shouting match.
"I need a drink." He pushed himself off the wall. When she made to follow him, he shot a glare at her over his shoulder. "Stay here. I don't want mum upset more."
Hermione stood in the snow and waited for him. She cast a warming charm to keep her hands busy. How could he know? Had Marcus told him? Surely, he wouldn't do that. Was there some sort of consummation confirmation on the marriage writs? Her cheeks burned with mortification. She would not put it past the Ministry to include something so medieval.
Ron came back with two mugs of mulled cider and thrust one into her hands. He took a gulp of his then leaned against the wall glaring at her. Hermione took a sip and swallowed politely. Molly always put in too much cinnamon but the heat of the drink was comforting.
"Ron, I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I did and I am sorry."
"Marcus fucking Flint!" Ron spat. "You married a bloody Slytherin bastard and you didn't mean to hurt me?" He tried not to yell. He did not want anyone interrupting this.
"It was because of the Reconstruction Bill. Marcus came to me and asked for help." Hermione began to explain but Ron cut her off.
"Why do you care? Those snobs are finally getting what they deserve, getting taken down a peg. Why do you give a damn? All they've ever done is look down their noses at you!"
"It isn't about the pure-bloods. It's the principle. The law is wrong!" Hermione stopped herself. She had not come here to argue politics. She took a long swallow of the cider then held the mug tightly. No pointing accusatory fingers if she had her hands full. "Ron, please, I came to apologise."
"You should!" He took a deep breath. She was here. Time for some answers. "Fine, 'Mione, fine. You marry someone else, you disappear for a week with him and you swan back to grovel."
"I didn't disappear! I told Harry where I was!" Hermione blinked, willing, demanding the threatening tears not to flow. "I told him I needed some time away."
"Yeah, he said that's what you'd written him. Him, not me." Ron slammed his mug down onto the wall. "And I can bloody guess why, too. Off on your bloody honeymoon, right?"
"You!" She was so furious she could not even curse him. Her breath caught in her mouth, choking off the word.
"Off spreading your legs for a snake!" Ron accused.
"Yes." Hermione heard the word force itself out, felt her lips form the traitorous syllable and went cold.
"Bitch." He did not even raise his voice. He did not flinch when she flung her cider in his face. The over-spiced cider he had spiked with Veritaserum.