What did one wear to a stake out of a Quidditch locker room, specifically one where you knew that you would never catch the intruder? Because of course, you know that you are the intruder.
Hermione agonized over the question, looking into her wardrobe, for maybe half an hour after dinner. She didn't want to wear robes, that seemed too formal. But, she didn't know how Marcus would react to more muggle clothing. What if he thought they were weird or unfashionable? She didn't want him to think poorly of her.
This was getting ridiculous! Was she inexplicably attracted to Marcus bloody Flint of all people? Yes. Did that mean that she was going to try to dress to his tastes or care what he thought about her appearance? No. At least, she was going to say that she wasn't.
Shaking off that line of thought, she grabbed her favorite pair of jeans and a jumper that would do well at staving off the November chill that had settled on the grounds. If Marcus also happened to appreciate the clingy way that the denim hugged her bum, she wasn't going to get a big head about it.
Pulling the jeans up her legs, she wondered if he would find it odd that she had changed out of the clothes she was wearing at dinner, before deciding that Flint probably wasn't even aware at all about what she wore. Besides, dinner had been awkward enough as it was. Neville had asked each of them in succession to join him at the Three Broomsticks for a firewhiskey, which they'd both declined. Based on the way that he looked between the two of them, Hermione thought that her friend might have put two and two together that they were doing something together.
Neither one of them jumped to explain about the Quidditch locker rooms and looking for students who were out after curfew. The longer that the silence stretched on, the more awkward it became. Hermione was absolutely dreading when Neville eventually resorted to pulling her aside to ask what was up. She was quite certain her whole, disgusting crush would come tumbling out to her absolute mortification.
A knock at the portrait door had Hermione startling out of her memory and she rushed to answer it. Marcus had arrived exactly when he said he would. She appreciated the punctuality.
"Hey Granger," he greeted her, leaning back on his heels. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," she agreed, before stepping out into the hallway and locking the door behind her. They started walking side by side towards the main staircase. "You know, we are colleagues. I think that you can probably just call me Hermione. If you want to, that is."
He didn't say anything for a beat. "If you don't mind," he agreed, finally. "And you should call me Marcus."
"I know it might be a little time to get used to it," she said with a grin. In her own mind, she'd been calling him Marcus for weeks, pining over him as she was. "Marcus."
Hermione couldn't stand any awkward silences and scrambled to fill them as they made their way out. "Do you think that I'll be warm enough?" she asked, catching her lip between her teeth as she agonized over what she'd selected.
Marcus made no secret of the slow look up and down her body that he gave her. He cleared his throat. "I think you'll be fine," he answered. "In any case, isn't that what warming charms are for?"
She blushed at forgetting about those. She so often did even after over a decade in the wizarding world. "Oh, I suppose you are right," she said.
"And, if that doesn't work, I have something that will warm you right up," he added.
Hermione felt her eyebrows practically leap off of her forehead at the suggestive phrasing. "You do?" she squeaked out, her brain running away from her as it so often did with Marcus.
"Oh!" he said, suddenly realizing what had just come out of his mouth. "I didn't - that is, I mean - I have some firewhiskey in my desk that we can drink."
"Oh, I didn't think anything of it," she said. Liar, her brain screamed at her, you were already thinking of ten ways to produce body heat with this giant hunk.
"So," she said, determined to change the subject. "How have you found Hogwarts now that you are teaching? Have you been settling in?"
He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. "I never thought that I would be a teacher," he said like it was a dirty word. "But...I just wasn't ready to give up Quidditch."
"Did you ever think of joining one of the lower leagues, like Wood?" Hermione wondered, knowing that Quidditch had its hooks in her former housemate as well.
Marcus frowned. "Yeah, I don't know if it's just my pride or whatever, but, I couldn't stomach the thought of it. It would be hard to accept that after playing at the top levels of Quidditch for so long," he revealed to her, opening up in a way that she wouldn't have expected. "But then Minerva came to me with the offer to come work at Hogwarts..."
"It's funny to hear you call her Minerva," she quipped.
"Yeah, but she won't have it any other way," Marcus agreed with a laugh. "She drives a hard bargain and in a way...she gave me a job that I didn't know that I wanted. I didn't think that I would have the patience to help little snot nosed Firsties, but I like it. I like seeing them learn and get excited when they are able to master a new skill."
Hermione couldn't stop her grin, as she knew the feeling herself. "I know exactly what you mean," she told him. "I thought I would be rubbish at teaching. I always hated revising or tutoring with Harry and Ron, but it turns out that I'm not actually a bad teacher, but that they were the worst students."
The had reached the Quidditch dressing rooms at this point and Marcus let her in, before walking her to his office. "I was surprised to learn that you were teaching," he explained. "I always imagined that you'd be some kind of kick-ass Auror or something."
"Oh, you thought a lot about me, then?" she couldn't help but tease.
He flushed again. "I didn't mean it like that. Just, seemed impossible to escape all the news coverage on the "Golden Trio" after the war was over."
The brunette witch shook her head. "Nah, that wasn't me," she explained. "Although, Harry and Ron are still trying to convince me to change my mind. After seven years of fighting Voldemort, I just wanted to do something normal. Something that didn't involve dark wizards who hate my guts just because of who my parents are."
If Marcus was uncomfortable with her blood purity talk, he didn't make any mention of it. "Well, that makes sense," he said. "And I bet that the students are way more appreciative of you than the Ministry ever would have been."
Hermione hadn't thought about it that way before, but she supposed it was true. She'd never much cared for the Ministry anyway, even after Kingsley took over as Minister.
She looked around his office, trying to pretend like she hadn't been there before. "This is a pretty nice office," she said. "Though, it doesn't beat my Transfiguration office."
"Yeah, well, I like being out of reach of everyone," Marcus answered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the desk like he owned the place.
The reminder of how alone they were sent a little thrill up her spine, even though Hermione knew that he didn't mean anything by getting her alone. She was just here to set up wards to keep intruders (well, herself, but Marcus didn't need to know that) out of the dressing rooms.
She realized that she'd been staring at him for an inordinate amount of time and cleared her throat, hoping that she didn't seem as guilty as she felt. "I'll just get started on the warding then," she said, scrunching her nose up. "I am sure that you have other plans that you'd like to get to on a Friday night besides spending time with me."
"I don't know, Granger, you've been quite amusing to talk with," he countered, before standing and moving to sit behind the desk while she did her work. He dug around in one of the upper drawers, pulling out whistles and gloves and various sundry until he found a slim bottle of Ogden's. He undid the cap and took a pull from the bottle, before leaning back, making no secret that he was enjoying watching her work.
She felt nervous and excited, unsure if she should show off or just put her head down and get through the work. Ultimately, she got caught up in her wand work, flitting from this room to that to knit together something substantial. Eventually, she had some fairly passable wards put up over the whole building. It wouldn't keep out a determined, strong wizard, but it was plenty for a couple of rowdy students. When she was done, she gave Marcus instructions on how to set the alarms when he left at the end of the day, so he would be alerted the next time an intruder came through.
"Wow, you really do know everything, don't you?" he asked her, genuine awe on his face. "You just knew exactly how to set everything up without even trying. If I'd attempted this on my own...well, let's just say that I would have failed half a dozen times before I hung up the broom."
She flushed at the compliment, but shrugged her shoulders. "Everyone is good at different kinds of magic," she demurred. "I'm sure there is plenty you can do that would take me ages to figure out."
"Oh yeah? What are you not good at?" he questioned.
She bit her lower lip. Flying, she wanted to say, but admitting that to Marcus Flint of all people seemed like too big of a sin to say out loud. Maybe some other time.
"Well, I hope that you should be good to go," she said, suddenly unsure of herself. "Hopefully no other students defile your space anymore." She knew that there was no way that she was going to try to break in again.
"Cheers," he said, before pressing the Ogden's bottle in her hand. "Thanks for all your help with this. I'll be able to rest easier."
Hermione took a quick sip, pleased that she wasn't reduced to a sputtering mess when the strong, warm liquid hit her throat. "It was honestly no trouble at all. I'm happy to help. But I should probably let you get back to your evening."
"I don't really have any plans," he told her, taking a step closer to her, until they were nearly touching. "What do...what do you do for fun around here?"
She tittered, thinking that it was a rather silly question. "Oh, I don't really get out too much during the school year," she explained. "Sometimes some of us go to the Three Broomsticks - like Neville was tonight. I think, if you go now, he'd probably still be there. If you were looking for something fun to do."
"Are you going to go to the Three Broomsticks?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Hermione denied, unwilling to face the herbology professor so soon. "Probably just head back to my rooms for the evening."
"Oh," Marcus said, sounding a bit disappointed. "Well, let me at least walk you back to the castle then."
While the offer was nice, Hermione didn't need a chaperone. "Oh, don't you worry about me, Marcus," she said, patting him on the chest. "I'll be just fine. You go meet up with Neville. You'll have lots of fun, I'm sure of it."
He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but thought better of it. "Alright, well, have a good night then," he said, softly. "Hermione."