A/N: Thank you very much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! You can find me on tumblr (nauticalparamour).
Please let me know what you thought of chapter eight and be on the lookout for chapter nine soon!
With the offending students caught, there was no reason for Hermione and Marcus to steal away down to the Quidditch pitch after dinner on Friday. By the time that it had actually rolled around, Hermione was surprised to realize just how much she was going to miss spending time with that big brute. In fact, she spent practically the whole dinner hour sighing in disappointment, enough so that she caught Neville's attention.
"What has gotten into you?" Neville asked her gently. "Does this have something to do with Marcus?"
The pair of Gryffindors both looked down the table to where Marcus Flint was sitting, on the other side of Minerva than them.
Hermione flushed, wondering how Neville had pieced something together. Of course, there were whispers among the staff about how much time Marcus and Hermione had been spending with one another and new whispers amongst the students, no thanks to Mason and Urquhart for spreading rumors about them.
She shook her head. "No Neville," she lied. "I'm just thinking about how much I have to do before term ends. It's always busy. I'll be looking forward to the Yule break."
"Oh? Are you going somewhere this year?" he asked, knowing that Hermione had on occasion gone on holiday or even joined the Weasleys at the Burrow for the holidays.
"Not this year," she answered. "It's been ages since I spent Yule at Hogwarts, so I figured this would be as good a year as any. I sort of miss it, you know?" In truth, she was really hoping to get more work done on her novel. This was the longest that it had taken her to complete a book and her publisher was really getting quite antsy, with constant hints that this must be her best novel yet if it was taking her so much time. A little alone time was sure to help her focus on the task at hand, especially without the distractions of work.
"That will be nice," Neville agreed. "Hogwarts has felt like home for a long time."
"It really does, doesn't it?" Hermione agreed with her friend. It was hard to believe that they had been living at the castle for the majority of their lives at this point.
"Well, I think some of us are going to go down to the Three Broomsticks tonight. Are you up for it?" he asked, his focus drawn back to the mashed parsnip on his plate.
Her first instinct was to ask if Marcus was going, but she tamped it down. Neville already thought something was going on between her and Marcus and she didn't need to add any fuel to the fire. She thought that there might be something there, simmering under the surface, but it was more than likely that he'd really just asked her for help and struck up a casual friendship with her. It wasn't as though he was secretly pining for her the way that she did for him.
"I don't think I'm up for it," she said, after a minute. No, it was better to go back to her room and finish up grading her third year essays, so that she would have the whole weekend to herself.
"Suit yourself," Neville said, with a shrug of his shoulders, before turning the conversation to other topics: the mandrakes were ready for repotting and no matter how good he had gotten at Herbology, he still passed out in one class a year (a rather embarrassing habit he was hoping to break).
When dinner was cleared, Hermione climbed the stairs back up to her apartments. When she was alone, she took a minute to light the fire in her fireplace, until the room was filled with the cheery crackles and pops of slightly too-wet wood burning. Outside of her massive window, the snow had started to come down. Sighing, she thought that this was rather cozy.
Her first order of business was to slip out of her teaching robes and into more comfortable pajamas and her little kneazle shaped slippers. They always made her think of Crookshanks when she looked down at her feet. With that sorted, she poured herself a glass of wine and pulled out her working manuscript.
Settling onto her settee, she summoned a warm blanket that Luna had knitted for her the year prior and her current manuscript, determined to read over her story so far to make sure that it flowed well, and didn't sound too silly. She was soon deeply engrossed in her reading and quite pleased with the prose and the scene setting, but she couldn't help but feel like there was something missing in all of the Quidditch related scenes.
Before she could quite put her finger on it, though, there was a knock at her door. Startled, Hermione hopped up and crossed the room quickly, wondering who could need her at this hour. Opening the portrait door, she was surprised to see Marcus waiting on the other side.
"Hey, Hermione," he said in greeting.
"Hi Marcus," she said, with a sudden blush on her cheeks. She looked down at her pajamas and was glad that they weren't too embarrassing - just a pair of comfy flannel pants and an oversized t-shirt. At least it wasn't something more provocative. Or maybe...should she have wished it was something more provocative? Something to really blow Marcus's socks off?
Her eyes darted to where she'd casually left her manuscript on the settee. Godric, she didn't want him to see that either! It would be so embarrassing for him to learn that she wrote romance novels in her spare time. Though she often thought she had nothing to be ashamed of, she couldn't help but keep her second profession as a dirty little secret.
Normally, she would be longing for some excuse to invite him in, as she'd been fantasizing ever since they'd been interrupted in Marcus's office, but now she was hoping that he wouldn't expect to be invited in!
"I'm just headed off to the Three Broomsticks with Neville and the others," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Neville said...Neville said that you weren't feeling up for it tonight. I just wanted to check in on you before I left."
Now she hated herself for not just being social for once. It wasn't as if she could change her mind and decide to join them after lying to Neville. But, if she had known that Marcus was going to go as well, there was no way that she would have turned down the opportunity to join them.
"Oh yeah, I've just...been feeling a bit worn out lately," she lied, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I was thinking about going to bed early — trying to get caught up on sleep."
"That's probably my fault," Marcus said with a crooked smile.
Oh, if only you knew, Hermione thought to herself.
"I've been monopolizing all of your weekend time and keeping you up until all hours of the night, chasing students," he continued.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Hermione tried to reassure him. "It was a couple of late nights, but...I had fun. Did you?"
"Yes, actually. I never thought that we would actually catch the little shits," he answered, his grin widening. "It got me thinking that I was almost...disappointed when we did catch them, if only because it meant that I wouldn't get to spend as much time with you."
Hermione was excited to hear that he valued their time together as much as she had. Of course, she'd thought he'd been on the same page as him, but then they hadn't spoken basically all week. "I understand what you mean," she said, leaning against the door frame. "I hope that we won't spend less time together, just because we don't have a...semi-official reason to."
"Yeah," Marcus said, with a nod.
"Next week...next week, I am sure I will be up for a drink at the Three Broomsticks," she said, looking at him hopefully.
"I'm looking forward to it," he said, sounding pleased.
A few beats of silence lapsed between the two of them. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your night," she said, feeling disappointed to see him go. "Is there...is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No," he said, reassuring her. Then his face was transformed as an idea seemed to flit across his mind. "Actually, I was wondering if there is anything that I could help you with."
Hermione frowned. A not insignificant part of her was thinking about inviting him into her apartments and dragging him to her bed so she could perch herself on top of him and— No, she could not let her mind get too far away from itself.
"Um, well, I was just planning on getting some rest," she repeated, once again, knowing that Neville had already told him that she wasn't going out for the evening.
Marcus shook his head. "That wasn't—I mean...I meant, you helped me out so much with the warding and catching the students," he explained. "I was wondering if there was some way that I could return the favor. You know, if there was anything on-going that you needed help with."
"Oh," she said, her breath catching in her throat.
"But that was a silly idea, because, well, you're Hermione Granger, after all," he said, looking down to his massive feet. "Forget that I even suggested it."
Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth, while she thought over his words. He obviously thought that she was good at everything and it actually couldn't be further from the truth. Writing her most recent romance novel put into sharp focus that she was abysmal at describing Quidditch or even basic bloody flying because she just didn't have the experience with it. It made all of her writing feel a little bit flat, really.
He turned to leave before she could answer.
"Marcus, wait!" she called after his retreating form. "There is something that you could help me with, actually. But you have to promise not to laugh."
He quickly walked back to her door, curious. "I'll try not to laugh," he quipped.
"I was actually wondering if you could give me a flying lesson," she said, bouncing on her heels.
"A flying lesson?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Come on, surely you already know how to fly."
Hermione scoffed. "Of course I know how to fly, like the very most basics. I could operate a broom if my life depended on it," she explained. Really, that was the only time that she had successfully flown a broom on her own. Otherwise, she was more than pleased to rely on apparition or portkeys. "But I don't know how to fly-fly," she continued, hoping to explain what she was getting at. "I don't particularly understand why people enjoy flying and I think that it must just be because...well, I don't know how to fly properly."
Marcus looked like he was trying rather hard not to laugh. "Hermione, I can't think of an easier thing for you to ask of me," he said, looking vaguely relieved. "I am sure that in an afternoon or two we can get you comfortable on a broom. You won't be a Quidditch Professional—"
"Obviously, that's not what I'm looking for," she cut in rolling her eyes.
"— but you'll be able to enjoy going for a ride," he finished.
"I wouldn't be so sure it will only take a day," Hermione said, sounding forlorn. "Madam Hooch said that I nearly sent her into early retirement when I was a first year."
"Yeah, maybe when you were eleven," Marcus argued.
"Technically, I was twelve," she said.
"Well, I'm not worried about it," he said confidently. "Even if it takes all of spring term to get you sorted out."
"I'm looking forward to it," she said, cheerfully, very pleased with the arrangement. "We can discuss specifics at another time. I wouldn't want to keep you from your night out any longer than I already have."
"And, I guess I wouldn't want to keep you from your rest either," he said, wistfully. "Have a good night, Hermione. I'll talk to you soon."