Chapter Three
Mischiefy Things
It struck Thorfinn then that there was a simple answer to this—help the god, get him out of their hair and back to his own plane of reality, go back about their lives assuming Hermione had no actual interest in turning him over to the Ministry—and she wasn't saying it. It was hardly a closely guarded secret in the Wizarding world, but Loki would have no way of knowing that.
He'd understood her reasoning, and it was sound, even agreed with it . . . to a point. But there was simply a nagging impression in his gut that there was more to it than what she'd said. Yet he knew, if Hermione Granger had made the decision to withhold that information, there had to be a sound reason for that, as well.
So, as much as Thorfinn wanted to spit it out, he instead stood and crooked a finger at her, his eyes narrowed a bit as he held her still-wrathful gaze. "A word, if you would, please?"
The witch arched a brow, but already today had been full of 'why not?', and really, who was she to break a theme? Actually, after that . . . whatever that was with Loki just now, she thought perhaps it best she put a little distance between herself and the pretty alien god.
When she didn't get up or respond in any way just yet, Thorfinn started backpedaling toward the other end of the room. His crooked finger beckoned her, still. "Over here. C'mon."
Against her better judgement, she glanced at Loki. Or, rather, intended to glance at him. He was already watching her, evidently waiting to see if she would entertain Thorfinn's request. Her gaze snagged on his, and for a moment she could do nothing but stare back at him.
Loki was, as so many things about this situation left him, amused by this. He would admit, he did feel a . . . certain pull, but he would wager that might simply be the Fates playing with them. Telling them this was where they all should be at this moment.
Whatever these two thought, the three of them were destined to be part of one another's lives, at least for a time.
When it seemed she still could not pull her attention from him—amusing Loki further, still, as he heard Thorfinn give an impatient throat-clearing sound—he smirked. That shift in expression alone seemed to jar her.
Hermione shook her head, a scowl pinching her features. Why did that keep happening? Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he had mesmerizing eyes and glossy jet hair she was fighting the strangest compulsion to run her fingers through. Yes, he . . . wait, where was she going with this? Utterly annoyed with herself, she snapped her head in Thorfinn's direction.
With a sharp nod, she stood from the broken-down sofa and started toward the mountain of a wizard.
"Thank you," the blond man said, the exasperated mutter sliding through lightly clenched teeth.
Swallowing hard, she once more shook her head. "Sorry, I . . . have no idea why I keep doing that."
Trying not to laugh at her obvious discomfort, and her even more obvious denial, he—making zero attempt to hide the suggestiveness in his voice—said, "I think I've got a pretty good idea why."
Her shoulders slumping, she only looked up at him, her already darkened expression souring. "What d' you want?"
His eyes flashed wide a moment at her volume, but he refused to dart his attention back to the actual fucking God of Mischief sitting in his hideout. Pitching his voice low, he turned so that his back was to Loki, shielding their faces from him so he would not be able to read their expressions. "Okay, I heard what you said about why you won't help him, but . . . seriously, why aren't we simply, I dunno, telling him the stuff he wants is literally readily available at any number of places right nearby?"
She sighed, taking the hint and dropping her voice, as well—Thorfinn might be perfectly subservient to Loki's face, but he was clearly aware what a potentially dangerous being they were dealing with. "Do you trust him?"
"Do I look like an idiot?"
Hermione's lips pinched and she arched a brow, but remained silent.
The way one of his eyes twitched at that was nearly comical. "Of course, I don't trust him."
She held back on the desire to agree aloud, as Loki'd already pointed out that he was completely aware she didn't trust him. "Okay, so he's told us what he wants and why, but . . . not really. 'Scores to settle' could mean anything. If he gets the dragon's blood, and it does what he thinks it's supposed to, what's to stop him from going back to his home plane and wreaking havoc?"
Thorfinn's face blanched. "Not our problem, Sunshine!" he responded in a whispered shout.
"Isn't it?" She couldn't believe she was hearing this. Actually, Death Eater, so yeah, yeah, she could believe it. "If we give him the blood, he takes it, goes home, does terrible, evil . . . mischiefy things—"
"Mischiefy things?" Thorfinn couldn't help himself from cutting in, a half-smile curving his mouth.
"Oh, shut up," she hissed.
He felt the sudden and pressing need to antagonize her just a bit more. "Brain the size of a planet and best you can come up with is 'mischiefy things?'"
Her eyes narrowed. "You know what I'm saying. If we give him what he wants, we enable all that havoc, so yes, it is our problem." The realization struck her heart, struck and chilled it, as she recalled the very words she'd just thought. He was a Death Eater. First crush or not, he'd done horrible things. Maybe he really didn't care about the people who might become innocent casualties of Loki's score-settling.
Of the many things Thorfinn Rowle was, one thing he was not was unperceptive—he noticed the change in her eyes as she stared up at him. "What?" Something about that look she was giving him caused that mirthful expression to fade.
"Were you actually going to kill me?" She hadn't wanted to think about it, but now her throat threatened to close up on her as she spoke the words.
His brow furrowed. "What? Earlier?"
"No, I . . . ." Her voice trailed off as she remembered. She'd used a memory charm on him, and Dolohov, both, when they'd come for Harry at that café. "I meant . . . during the War," she finished lamely, scrambling to account for the question at all.
Thorfinn's expression iced over and he squared his shoulders, his gaze locked on hers. "You mean . . . that night?"
Hermione's eyes shot wide, her stomach tying in knots. "You remember? How?" She realized the question was stupid the moment it fell from her lips and clamped her hands over her mouth in horror.
He answered her question with a knowing look. He should've realized Hermione Granger, of all people, would know the only way to break a memory charm.
"I'm so . . . ." She forced a gulp, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that would happen!"
The tremor in her voice, the sudden glossy sheen in her eyes . . . . Something about her reaction to this knowledge bothered him deeply. Refusing to think on it any further, he lifted his hands and shrugged. "Wasn't the first time I've been tortured, probably won't be the last. But, to answer your question, no."
She wanted to take a moment with that, to pick it apart. To poke and prod at his sudden change in demeanor—at how he made torture sound like such a flippant thing. He'd gone from instantly defensive to instantly blasé about the matter, that he was hiding something was obvious, though she wasn't sure why he would. But this wasn't the time, and this certainly wasn't the conversation.
And . . . what she had in mind about their present, very odd, circumstances, was likely to mean they'd have plenty of opportunities to pick at old wounds in the near future.
Still, though, she couldn't help needing just a little more. "You weren't?"
"Dolohov might've," he said with a weighted sigh. "My plan was to subdue you and just grab Potter."
She was silent for a moment as she weighed that information. Finally, she nodded. "I'm sorry," she said again, unable to stop herself.
"Wasn't your fault." Thorfinn frowned, finally tearing his eyes from hers to examine the oh-so-interesting space of flooring between them. "What are we going to do about . . . ?" He glanced over his shoulder, strangely aware only now how much time they were taking. The God of Mischief had clearly become bored with observing them and had turned his attention to the pile of Rowle family heirlooms, which he was moving about to peek through with a wave of his hand.
Giving himself a shake—he didn't fancy the idea of crossing a deity—Thorfinn returned his attention to Hermione. "Him?"
"Well . . . ." She wet her nervously parched lips with the tip of her tongue. "We are going to lie."
Again Thorfinn looked back at the being seated in such effortlessly regal fashion in his busted-up arm chair using god-magic with naught but the flick of his fingers. "That's your brilliant plan?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I never said it was a brilliant plan, but it is 'a plan,' yes. It would be easier if we knew our magic worked on him, we could subdue him and figure things out from there, but he's not human. He's also not even supposed to be here, so we shouldn't risk casting anything he might view as an attack, just in case it doesn't affect him like it should and we end up having an angry mischief god on our hands."
"Agreed. Heartily. So, what is this lie?"
"So, first," she started, painfully aware she was completely making it up as she went along, "we tell him you convinced me to help him. However, dragons aren't easy to come by, we have to take him to where they are, and that'll mean a bit of traveling. In . . . leanly-populated non-wizarding areas . . . and of course Apparition would be out of the question, so it'll take a while." She could already feel how mad it sounded, but she had to do something, and it was all she could come up with to keep whatever danger Loki presented limited to the two of them.
Harry and her friends and everyone else in Wizarding Britain were still recovering from the War. She couldn't allow them to come into new danger because of her.
Thorfinn's head wobbled for a moment before he pressed his hands to his face, as if simply trying to process what she'd just said might be too much for him. "So, now you want to go on holiday with him?"
She cast a gaze heavenward and squared her jaw. "Not really, no, but—"
"Oh, that's amusing. Look! There's my brother!" Loki called over, holding up the book so they could see the page with the rending of Thor.
After a moment of the pair staring at the image from across the room, Hermione pressed her fingers over her mouth while Thorfinn's eyes narrowed into irritated slits. "Is that what people think I look like?"
He turned back in time to catch her hand slipping down to her side and her lips folding inward to keep back whatever expression her face was trying to make. He scowled. "Oh, shut up."
The moment had a strangely tension-easing effect, and she went on, her voice dropping right back to a barely audible whisper. "I don't want to go anywhere with either of you, thank you very much, but he became our responsibility, somehow. If we don't at least appear to be helping him, who knows what he could get up to?"
"I'm still not hearing how any of this is an actual plan to get out of giving him dragon's blood."
It didn't occur to Hermione the way she thoughtlessly pressed a hand to his chest in a silent plea for patience. "While we're on this . . . trip, maybe we get to know him. Observe him and learn what he's capable of and puzzle out if our magic can affect him, and how. We'll need to find out what he means by 'scores to settle.' And then, whatever it is, we . . . convince him there's another way to get what he wants."
Golden brows shooting upward, the wizard asked, "And this mysterious 'other way' is?"
She forced a smile. "Haven't quite sorted that bit, yet."
"Mm-hmm." Thorfinn couldn't believe the idea she was putting forth, and she seemed to think a second time around with elaboration was somehow making things better. "So, to clarify—just for fun—we are going to manipulate him?"
She nodded, for all the world looking as though she didn't have the foggiest idea how completely insane this sounded.
"We can't lie to him!"
"Why not?"
Thorfinn ducked down a bit, putting his face in hers. "Because he's Loki! He practically invented lying. All the myths talk about his treachery and deceit."
"That's the point!" She shrugged, trying not to notice how lovely his eyes were this close. "Liars never expect the people they deem trustworthy to lie to them. They don't think anyone's smart enough to outwit them. He . . . likes us for some reason and—"
"Pfft, he likes you. Probably just thinks I'm 'useful.'" Thorfinn shrugged; it wouldn't be the first time someone had viewed him that way. "Walking battering ram, and all that."
Breathing in deep and exhaling long and low, she pushed that aside. "Grouse all you like, he's taken a shine to both of us. We have to use that. Okay? If you . . . ." She shook her head, her expression a little pained, even uncertain, as she said, "Look, if you don't want to have any part of this, fine. I'll do this alone, then."
Thorfinn straightened up to his full height, glaring at her as if she'd just slapped him. "You . . . are . . . you intend to . . . ." The notion of her, alone, with Loki for an extended period of time, in secluded, remote locations, during which she might slip up and let on that she was lying and incur his wrath, chilled the Viking wizard to his bones. Or . . . Loki might try subtler means to get the information she supposedly possessed. Seduction wasn't outside the realm of possibility.
His stomach turned a little at that.
Massive shoulders drooping, he heaved a sigh. "No, no. I'll go with you. You're right, much as I despise it. He's our responsibility." He'd curse the Fates if he weren't suddenly so certain this was why he'd so easily avoided capture all these months. If he'd not been on the loose, none of this entire scenario wouldn't have been possible.
"Okay, so now we just . . . tell him."
"You tell him, Sunshine. This is your idiot idea."
"Fine, but . . . look . . . triumphant when we turn around."
A breathy chuckle escaped him. "That I can do. But—" He deliberately cut himself off.
Her face fell. "But what?"
Smirking, he glanced down his chest. "Maybe you should take your hand back, first."
Brows shooting upward, she followed his gaze. Oh, look at that. Her palm was still against his chest. She immediately dropped her arm to her side. "Sorry," she said in a sheepish mutter as she looked away.
His smirk only broadened as he said, "I don't recall saying it bothered me."
Snapping her shocked gaze up to lock on his, she knew her cheeks flared pink. First not being able to stop staring at Loki, and now she was getting unconsciously handsy with Thorfinn? And she'd just come up with a brilliant plan to be stuck with the two of them for who knew how long?
He winked at her.
Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath. It was okay. It would be fine. This was the easiest option for stopping something potentially bad from happening, like a god from another realm sating his displeasure with them by unleashing his wrath upon the innocent citizens of Wizarding London. She wasn't daft, she knew some of those myths, too. Not many, but enough to leave an impression that getting on Loki's bad side was . . . well, unwise would be an understatement.
"Let's just do this, shall we?"
"You mean the plan, yeah?" There was that suggestiveness in Thorfinn's tone again, though he hardly seemed aware of it until she forced herself to meet his eyes. His mouth pulled to one side in a pensive expression. "Huh. D'you think Loki is contagious?"
The blush that had filled her face only a moment ago faded entirely as the color drained from her cheeks, her eyes huge as they held his. "Oh, I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this plan."
Unable to think any more on this entire, terrible, plan, and what terrible things it could lead to, Thorfinn spun on his heel to face the deity. "So, good news! We're going to help you, after all!"
A smarmy, expectant grin spread across Loki's face as he tipped his head, angling his gaze around the wizard to look at Hermione. "Able to change your mind, was he?"
Hermione used her sudden apprehension to her advantage, letting him see how honestly unhappy she was with this as she stepped around Thorfinn. "Yes." She shook her head as she continued through the room, back to stand before Loki. "But I'm not going to tell you where the dragons are."
Those perfect dark brows shot upward in bewilderment and that grin faded. "You're not?"
"How long do you plan to stay in our world?"
Loki tipped back his head, but kept his attention trained on her, considering her carefully before responding, "As long as it takes to get what I want."
"And then you'll go?" she prodded.
His eyes narrowing, he nodded. Oh, she was up to something, wasn't she? Well, she did have the information he wanted, and he had no accounting for what a witch of this realm might be capable of. Best he play along. For now.
"Okay, fine. I won't tell you where the dragons are, but we will take you to them. Only thing is it's far, so the travel could take a while. And it could be dangerous." She ignored the sound of Thorfinn echoing the word dangerous in a harassed sounding whisper.
"Well, then," Loki stood and put his hands together as if this was all splendid—and for all the other two knew, perhaps it was. He did think he was getting his way, after all. "Let's prepare for this adventure, shall we?"
Hermione could feel Thorfinn's eyes narrowing on her in a lethal gaze as he whispered, "God, I hate you." She couldn't say she blamed him. She sort of hated herself right now, too.
