A/N: Hello, hello! Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I have not had nearly as much time to write as I thought I would lately. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour).

Please let me know what you thought of chapter seven and be on the lookout for chapter eight soon!

The autumn term was dwindling down to its final weeks and Hermione could not believe the speed with which it flew by. It wasn't that the school year normally dragged on, but she was just so busy that the days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

She had been doing a lot of writing in her latest novel, crafting the perfect scenarios for her heroine, whom she decided to name Thomasin, and the dashing hero, Hugh (for some reason, it always seemed as if romance characters had to have old-fashioned, regency names). She had come up with some truly spicy moments for the two of them - lingering touches, near kisses, smoldering gazes and the like - but had not gotten to the ultimate act yet.

And, she'd been sure to pepper in all sorts of little Quidditch details that she'd learned from Marcus. He was surprised by how often she brought up the sport that she was meant to hate, but she played it off as having a real expert to ask her questions of and how it was too good of an opportunity to pass up while he was tolerating her.

There was something about the Quidditch writing that still felt a little bit flat to her, but Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was sure that she would figure it out eventually. She was very committed to it not being shagging with a bit of sport sprinkled on top. She had a reputation to live up to, after all.

Her time not spent furiously scribbling various plot points or grading papers and exams was surprisingly occupied by Marcus. He had invited her to another stake out and another until it was just an unspoken Friday night activity for the pair of them. He just showed up at her door and they would walk down to the Quidditch pitch together and sit on a blanket and talk about everything and anything.

For each sly question she had about Quidditch, Marcus seemed to have one about muggle things. He was obviously nervous to ask her at first, perhaps thinking that he might offend her, but he was earnest and sweet and Hermione was only too happy to explain various and sundry muggle things to him. They also talked about other things too - their joint love of herbology, Marcus's secret skill of cooking Italian food, Hermione's wild streak that saw her breaking dozens of school rules, Neville's budding romance with Hannah Abbott.

To her surprise, she found herself genuinely enjoying the big brute. Sure, he was still inexplicably hot to her, but there was more underneath the surface than a set of perfect biceps and a strong jaw. He made her laugh and he was interested in her and they were friends.

She didn't want to admit it out loud, for fear that speaking of it would ruin the illusion, but she thought that they might have some chemistry. There were...moments when she would catch him giving her a smoldering look of his own and thought that he might be about to lean over and kiss her, but he never did. Godric, she wouldn't mind plunking herself down in his lap and planting a kiss on him if she ever found the Gryffindor courage.

She was of two minds on the matter. Part of her thought that they were really just friends and to try to make a pass at him was destined to ruin things. Not to mention, she hated to imagine the absolute mortification should he reject her and then they had to work together for years. But another part of her hoped... and the way that he lingered at her door when he walked her back to the castle only emboldened her.

The bold Gryffindor had finally decided that she was going to invite Marcus in for a nightcap tonight after she joined him for another stake out for students who never actually existed.

He met her at her door like usual and they made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. "I was thinking that since it snowed recently, maybe we should camp out in my office?" he suggested casually.

Hermione nodded in agreement. She didn't really fancy being outside given how cold it was now that they were into December. Once they were inside the building, Hermione reset the wards and Marcus led the way to his office. Biting her lip, she looked around. She didn't really fancy sitting in the chair across the desk from him. That would feel too much like an interview... or some kind of naughty, inappropriate fantasy, she supposed.

"You don't exactly have much for seating," she said, regretfully. "Do you mind if I just...?"

Marcus held out his arms. "By all means, so long as you set it right," he agreed. "I'd hate to make a mess of it myself?"

Drawing her wand, Hermione quickly transfigured the chair into a comfy looking loveseat. She worried her lip, hoping that he wouldn't mind the lack of space between them, before reminding herself that they had been sharing a smaller picnic blanket for weeks. She plopped herself down in the cushions before patting the open seat next to her.

"Wow, maybe I need to upgrade my office," he said, seeing how well the new piece of furniture fit in. "It would be a lot better for when my mates stop by for a visit." He poured them each a measure of firewhiskey, before handing Hermione a glass and joining her on the couch.

She wrinkled her nose. "Too bad that you don't have a fireplace out here," she said. "It could be downright cozy out here."

"I'll settle for a fireplace in my quarters," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't need my office turning into some kind of floo station for rich parents on game day."

"Are your friends really coming for a visit?" she asked, curious about Marcus's friends.

"Yeah, they are coming for the Slytherin Gryffindor game. I don't know if you remember them: Adrian Pucey, Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague?" he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips when she thought about them. "I am vaguely aware, but I can't say that I would have ever spoken to any of them," she decided.

"Of course," he said, sounding upset with himself. "You wouldn't really have had a reason to cross paths with them. But they are good friends. I think you'd like Ades. He's a solicitor now and likes to argue like you do-"

"Hey, I do not argue," she cut in.

"He likes to be the contrarian. He'd take the opposite stance of you just to debate the topic," Marcus said. "You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from defending your point."

She flushed, wondering when he had gotten such a good read on her. "I suppose that does sound like me," she conceded.

"Montague can be a bit of a prick at first. He likes to think he's better than everyone else, but once you are friends, he is loyal as anyone can be," he said fondly.

"And Warrington?" she asked. Hermione thought she remembered him from Quidditch. He'd seemed to be a huge oaf, similar in size to Marcus, but she'd been so young then, maybe he just seemed larger in her memory.

"Oh, I think Cass would like you best of all of them," he said with a grin. "He has a secret you see."

"Please tell me you aren't trying to set me up with Warrington?" she asked, feeling her heart stop in her chest.

Marcus immediately recoiled at the suggestion. "What? No. No...you're. He's not...he's not your type," he said, stumbling over his words.

"Oh, I have a type do I?" she asked, smirking at him. "And you are an...expert in what my type is?"

He cleared his throat. "I just...I don't think you'd like him like that," he answered, twin points of pink appearing on his cheeks.

"Well, you don't have to worry," she reassured him. "I think you are right that he isn't really my type. Plus, I remember he was on the Inquisitorial Squad. So, anyway, what's his secret?"

Marcus relaxed a bit at hearing that. "If pressed, I will deny that I ever told you this," he said, seriously. "Cassius is obsessed with gossip rags like Witch Weekly. He loves all the little rumors and conspiracy stories and since you're still an occasional topic, I am sure he'd be dying to talk to you to see if any of the rumors were true."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that. "Oh, if he reads those then he definitely isn't my type," she said, pressing her hand to her face. "I hate them with a passion."

"I don't blame you. When I was still playing, they made up some stupid stories about me, too," he said, before giving her a crooked smile. "You've all but admitted to having a type, then, Granger. So, tell me, what are you looking for in a wizard?"

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she met his grey-blue eyes. You. Her mind was screaming that over and over, but she couldn't very well tell him that. "I um..." she wasn't sure where to start and ended up blurting out the first thing that popped into her mind. "I suppose, in the past, I have been drawn to Quidditch players," she squeaked out.

"Quidditch players?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Was it her imagination or was he leaning towards her? "Well yeah, I mean, I dated Viktor...and then there was that thing with Ron..." she trailed off, wetting her lower lip.

"And is your interest in Quidditch players limited to Seekers? And Keepers?" he asked, testing the waters.

Okay, she was sure now that he was looking at her lips. She shifted so that she could lean closer to him as well. "No, I wouldn't say that," she said. "There's no reason a Beater couldn't catch my eye."

He chuckled. "Or a Chaser?"

"Or a Chaser," she agreed, before her eyes slipped shut and she leaned forward, ready to finally kiss the handsome oaf who she'd been flirting with all term!

But just before she could actually make contact, her wards were blaring loudly, alerting the pair to someone or someones trying to break into the dressing room!

Marcus jumped up. "Fuck! The students?" he said, sounding absolutely perplexed.

"Merlin, I'd begun to think that they didn't actually exist," Hermione said, hopping up as well and racing to the main entrance.

To her surprise, she found Mason - seventh year Gryffindor Quidditch Captain - and Ivy Urquhart - sixth year Slytherin Chaser - looking rather guilty at being caught out, with disheveled clothes and hair. Apparently Marcus's hunch had been right all along.

"Mason!" she said, making him snap to attention. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

Only, belatedly, she saw the way that the teenagers' eyes widened when they saw her exiting the office with Flint. She didn't know why she suddenly felt nervous now that someone else knew that she and Marcus had been spending time together. So what? It wasn't as if professors couldn't have friends.

"Or more."

"Uh, Professor Granger," Mason answered, trying to look contrite. "What are you doing here? In the Quidditch building...with Professor Flint?"

"I've been helping Professor Flint determine who has been sneaking into the Quidditch dressing rooms for extracurricular activities," she said tartly. "I am very disappointed to learn that it involves someone from my own house. I'll have to speak to Professor Longbottom about this."

"Oh, please don't do that," he nearly begged. "I promise that I'll never do it again."

"What do you think?" Hermione asked, turning to look at Marcus for guidance. It was his building that was being broken into, after all.

"Hmm," he said, the noise rumbling deep in his chest. "I will settle for twenty house points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. And if I ever catch you in here again after hours, I will be making you launder the uniforms and polish the school brooms."

The young lovebirds were only too happy to take the deal and they quickly hurried off back to the castle. When they left, Hermione turned to look at Marcus. "Well, I suppose our great hunt is over now that we finally caught them," she said, wondering if he could hear her disappointment.

"Yeah," he said, sounding equally disappointed. "Maybe next week we will have to actually join Neville at the Three Broomsticks."

She bit her lower lip again, to fight from smiling. "That would be nice," she could agree. She didn't want to stop spending time with him. She thought about her plan to invite him back to her room, but the mood had been broken by catching the students. But, she was bolstered to know that he had been about to kiss her.

Maybe next time, she thought wistfully.