Chapter Eleven

Following her run in with Severus and their subsequent encounter that had stolen her thoughts away for her entire shift, Hermione had done exactly as she told Lily she would and fled for Hogwarts, being in possession of two reasons–instead of the initial one–to get out of London as fast as witchly possible. The moment it was time for her to flip the sign of Between the Covers, closed, Libby couldn't have paid her enough to stay. Especially not as each time she glanced across the cobblestone way to peek through the windows into Bespoke Brews, she saw several lights were still lit within and shadows moving about.

She had become a terrible coward since arriving in 1979. Her Gryffindor courage having been forgotten somewhere amongst the years Theo had hurtled her through. She couldn't, or rather wouldn't, stand up to Lily and her vapid harpy of a friend. She hardly spoke to anyone, though that wasn't too far from what her daily norm was back in her own time. It would be more accurate to say she kept most everyone at arm's length whom she otherwise would have allowed in. And of course there was Professor Snape. No one succeeded in sending her running–quite literally when she had finished her shift and stepped out onto the side alley to find her boss, sloshing wine glass in hand, talking to Severus about the possibility of escorting her home given the late hour and unsavory crowds that hung around the entrance to Knockturn Alley–for the hills like he did. Had she been able to Apparate, she would have done so on the spot, what was proper be damned.

It was a special, tortuous gift of his to be able to so easily test and cripple her resolve over leaving her attraction to him in the future where it belonged. She carried numerous reasons as to why interacting with him would only lead to complication and disaster. The least of which was his lack of having yet changed allegiance in the war. Surely if nothing else, she should have been able to count on that fact to speak reason to him as to why he was better off forgetting her existence. But tenacious as ever, his attention to her remained fixed. Coupled with what she knew him capable of and what she knew she lacked, the only option that remained was for her to run. If he wouldn't rely upon his house's need for self-preservation, then she would just have to force it upon him lest she accidentally deter him from his proper course in time. After all, no one knew exactly why he had changed sides, only that he had and that Dumbledore was to not be questioned about his willing acceptance and trust of the former Death Eater's motives.

A day and a half later and she still couldn't find more than an ounce of mortification for her escape. What did exist came more from the terrible sight she had made tumbling out of the floo of the Hog's Head where she collapsed in a wheezing mess on the grimy floor in front of both Abaforth and Professor McGonagall. She was supposed to be capable, manipulative even in the way she was expected to keep Regulus dutifully in her palm. The perfect unknown to be used as a means of infiltration, something the Order would lack without her until such a time as when Professor Snape was lured back to the light. The only solace to come as she had recounted what transpired to make her so frantic as they plied her whiskey laced tea and a heaping pile of biscuits was that it was only the pair of them, no one else of the Order present, especially those who none too subtly questioned her capability.

Dueling Death Eaters? Not a problem. Facing down her nineteen year old professor's overt interest in her? She may as well begin training as a muggle sprinter because she could easily sweep up gold when the Olympics went to Moscow the following summer if he was on her tail.

The following day had passed without much event beyond a persistent headache from how much she had imbibed in while at the Hog's Head. After having made an early morning floo call to Libby where she offered profound apologies for the false inconvenience of the Ministry's bureaucracy as excuse for her sudden absence from work, she had spent much of her first day researching the practices and customs of the Wizarding World and its society witches. It was a rather dull and antiquated topic but there was also a certain romance to it all that was quickly fading amongst the muggles in her time.

Garden parties and balls; afternoons spent promenading about and evenings in the theaters; wizards calling upon witches at their homes or that of their hosts with tokens of affection and intention humbly in hand. It was as if time stopped come spring and summer and once more the Regency Era reigned supreme. She even found herself sympathizing with the staunch believers of traditionalism as they fought against the waves of change that were coming in larger and larger droves with each new crop of muggleborns and muggle-raised children entering the Wizarding World. Her people were all too quick to let go of the past in favor of progress and with it so many things were being lost day by day. The balance between the two still elusive despite all their advances.

But then Regulus had gone and dashed it all when he appeared at her side ready to escort her to lunch and again to dinner—his knowledge of her within the castle a true mystery as she had made certain to not leave her quarters until after he was deep into lecture. And both times he had somehow perfectly coordinated their exit from the library with that of the mass exodus of students from classes and activities, spreading a flurry of whispers throughout within minutes. His linking of her arm through his as he paraded her down the corridors and spoke just loud enough for his voice to carry as he referred to her as Lady Black, the added touch he needed to thoroughly ensure word of her importance to him was getting around. His calculated actions leaving the same unanswered question to hang in the air, why? She knew what she stood to gain by him putting on such a show, but what was in it for him? Especially as he knew her not to be who she presented herself as.

And while also not overly eventful, her second day ensconced within the safety Dumbledore's domain provided, proved to be just what she needed. At no point in time had her path ever crossed with Regulus's in the future and thus she found he was much easier to get on with and open up to. Even out by the lake as they were under the warm winter's sun where anyone could and did see them together, she found herself falling into an easy comfort with him. Under his prodding and unfiltered commentary and opinion of the Gryffindors she found herself surrounded by, her frustrations and self-imposed loneliness melted away.

"—So all that to say, I don't know what to do. She's so… different from what I had thought."

Rolling his eyes as he popped up on his elbow and forced a bright blue macaron past her lips, its flavor drawing an indecent moan from her as it exploded across her taste buds, he dramatically scoffed, "Pay Lily Evans no mind. She's an insufferable, jealous twat."

"What could she possibly be jealous of?" Hermione questioned in disbelief. "I mean just look at her, she's beautiful."

"Yes, and as ugly and unforgiving as a hag beneath that pretty, hollow shell."

"Do you even know her? Like really know her?"

"I know more than enough," he answered derisively. "Which is exactly how I know that she's jealous. You effortlessly possess what she lacks in spades."

Turning onto her stomach and staring down at the frosted blades of grass that left sharp kisses along her palm as she waved it back and forth and combed her fingers through it, she quietly asked, "But is she right? Am I too naïve and childlike to be taken seriously?" hoping he wouldn't use her growing insecurity to his advantage later.

Reaching out and gently pressing his fingers into her cheek to force her gaze to him, he said, "You have a delicate air of innocence about you, something people like her will covet and seek to destroy when they cannot possess it themselves. It may give the illusion of you being naïve but you and I both know you are anything but. You simply make a choice each day to continue to see the world not as it is, but as it could be; to search out happiness and believe the best of people. It's not a weakness, but a strength. So don't allow that twit the power to snuff out your light."

Punctuating his earnest words with a boop to her nose before flopping back down on the blanket, Regulus began chuckling before devolving into full belly aching laughs as he demanded, "Okay so tell me again, you did what after receiving my letter the other day?"

Shoving his face away, Hermione fought her own smile against his infectious mood and again recounted how she turned the mysterious gifts she had received to ash.

"Oh Merlin, this is fantastic," he said, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes.

"It's not funny! I went the rest of the day feeling as if I was being watched. It's part of why I scampered off like a terrified bunny to Hogwarts."

"Oh this is just too good. Please let me be the one to tell him when he asks."

"I don't even know who he is, so be my guest."

"You will soon enough, little pen, and dare I say, you'll regret your hasty actions."

"Actions your tactless letter made me take, mind you," she rebutted, attempting to shove him off the blanket. "Besides, what was I supposed to think? You're always mocking me by calling me, little pen. Of course I would assume you sent me the swan and everything else. You had already sent me flowers transfigured as a mated pair."

"Well of course I did," he responded with clear exasperation. "It is your Patronus, is it not?"

"And how exactly do you know that?"

"The same way I know all about your scar," he dangled, trailing his finger over the constellation that marred her torso.

Not for the first time, his way with knowing things he shouldn't made the fine hairs on her body raise and her mind drift to Theo and his eerily similar ability. Her thoughts however were interrupted as she took notice of a larger than normal number of students meandering about the chilly grounds as they tried and failed to watch her and Regulus without drawing attention.

Batting his hand away and putting space between them on the blanket, she whispered, "People are watching us."

"Good, let them see and spread the word."

"There is nothing to spread."

Eating the distance back up and pushing things further by positioning himself so his head rested on her lower stomach, Regulus corrected, "That's where you're wrong, Lukovë," his silvery eyes boring into hers. "Things would most probably go as they should but I'm not taking any chances. Not with you, and certainly not with—Barty?" he interrupted, quickly sitting up as the future notorious Death Eater stomped towards them with fire in his eyes.

"Barty, calm down" Regulus said, his hands in front of him as he stood up and positioned himself between them both. "It's not what you—"

"Really, Black? You're going to try and tell me it's not what I think as you stand guard over her? Please, what sort of fool do you take me for?" Drawing his wand and shoving it under Regulus's chin, he seethed, "Besides, my issue is with you, not her. She wouldn't know any better."

Jumping up, her wand dropping from the sleeve of her jumper into her hand, Hermione began to raise it in defense, knowing full well the twisted mania that lurked within the depth of Bartemius Crouch Jr.

"Put your wand down, Lukovë," he ordered, his eyes never leaving Regulus's. "Not unless you wish for me to take issue with you."

"I can't do that—"

"Hermione, pet, do as he says; he won't hurt me."

"Oh, pet is it?" Barty asked, with a cruel laugh. "So she isn't just your, Lady, she's your pet now too?"

"Jealousy, really isn't a good look on you, my love."

"Don't try to placate me with your false endearments, Black!"

"I'm not—"

Being hit with the realization of what was unfolding before her, Hermione looked around at the now captive audience they had, and whispered, "Barty, people are staring. Why don't you lower your wand and you and I can speak?"

Aggressively wiping his shining eyes on his shoulders, he bit out, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Not even if I tell you Regulus is most certainly not my type?" she offered, slowly raising her hand to his forearm to begin guiding his wand down. "That I'm not even here to see him but instead hiding from a wizard who is most certainly my type?"

Looking at her with wild, searching eyes, he hesitantly prodded, "Go on."

"Oh sure, listen to her, a complete stranger and not me, your sodding boyfriend of two and a half years that you're accusing of infidelity."

"Shut it, Regulus," they both snapped, the tension instantly breaking as they began to laugh, the madness that clouded Crouch quickly receding as he accepted that his relationship wasn't in danger.

Dropping down on their blanket, he loosened his yellow and black tie—a fact that shocked Hermione for she had always assumed the wizard had been a part of Slytherin—as he sheepishly apologized, "Sorry, Reggie. I guess I got a little crazed with all the rumors and then seeing you two out here."

"'A little crazed,'" Regulus mocked, "You're mad as a hater, love. Fucking held me at wand point and accused me of stepping out on you. And in public no less so I can't even prove to you just how very wrong you are," he said, his voice and gaze turning suggestive as his eyes roamed over the other wizard's body. "Later though."

"Is that a promise?"

"You can bet Helga's left tit that it is. As soon as I'm back on Sunday that arse of yours—"

"Okay!" Hermione cut in. "You do realize you two aren't alone, right?"

Offering his hand, Barty was all charm as he introduced himself.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr. but you can call me Barty. Any friend or fascination of Reggie's is one of mine."

Slipping her hand into his she started to return the peasantry, only for him to yank her in close and whisper, "But I swear to Merlin, you come on to my wizard or give me any reason to believe you wish for more than friendship with him and I will gut you like a pig. We clear?"

Snatching her hand back and glaring at him, she snapped, "Crystal," muttering, "you unhinged bastard."

"And don't you forget, darling. Us Hufflepuffs can be your greatest ally or your greatest enemy. Quaffle's in your hands as to which I'll be to you."

"Down, boy," Regulus half-heartedly chastised, his fingers subtly reaching out and entwining with Barty's on the blanket. "She's genuine. Well, in most things," he added as an afterthought. "In this though, most definitely."

"Then what's the deal? Why make such a spectacle of courting her?"

Completely ignoring her presence once again, Regulus gave Barty his sole focus as he cryptically answered, "Because, until the near future becomes our present and past, someone has to be sure the others keep a healthy distance. Our lovely Hermione, is quite the oddity and as such will draw copious amounts of attention until such a time as a claim is made."

"Is she for—"

"Precisely."

"Oh this is going to be good. How much longer?"

"Tonight, if I have anything to say about it. I'm tired of waiting and hiding."

"Um, hello? Witch not in the loop sitting right here," Hermione snapped, slicing her hand between their faces to break whatever bubble they had wrapped themselves in.

"Sorry, little pen, didn't mean to be rude," Regulus offered up. Smiling with a mischievous glee that was not to be trusted, he offered, "Allow me to make it up to you by escorting you back to London this evening."

"How are you allowed to leave the school?"

Helping himself to one of the chocolate truffles on their spread of sweets, Barty answered, "Because Death is knocking louder and louder on dear old Orion's door and as such, Reggie here has to go home any weekend there isn't quidditch or whatever thinly veiled excuse he can muster up to soak in every last minute of family bonding and ridicule that he can."

"I don't know. There's the issue with whoever is following me—"

"I already told you, that's been handled. Merely a dunderhead not a threat. And if he makes another senseless blunder like before, you just tell me and I'll slap him upside the head. Next?"

"Well I'm also avoiding—"

"Oh I know all about that too," Regulus dismissed. "You just need to seize your courage and go for what you want, not what you think is right. Any other feeble attempts?"

"Lily—"

"Evans? Oh fuck that cunt," Barty laughingly scoffed.

"That's what I said," Regulus quickly agreed.

Beginning to bounce and looking far too excited, Barty said, "You know what you should do? Put her and the rest of those Gryffindor wankers on the list for Gilded. That would make that mud—muggleborn cow," he quickly corrected under his boyfriend's reprimanding eye, "nearly as green as your tie if Hermione managed to get them in."

"Salazar, I could fucking kiss you, Barty!" Regulus nearly shouted. "You're absolutely brilliant. Two, if not three, birds with one stone. Consider it done and your evening booked, pet."

"What if I don't want to go?"

"Oh you're going," they both responded with Regulus adding, "I'll even meet you there if it helps so that if you're having a truly awful time—which I doubt you will—you can use me as an excuse to make a hasty retreat.

"Come on, you're young, unattached, and beautiful, not to mention it'll be Friday night in London. It's basically a law that you have to go out and let loose."

Chewing on the side of her thumb only for Barty to smack her hand away, Hermione tentatively asked, "And you're sure, absolutely positive, I have nothing to worry about? I mean, they were clearly following me. What if—"

"I swear on my life and magic, Hermione, no harm will ever come to you under his hand and may Merlin, Salazar, and Magic itself, take pity upon those who think to hurt you because there is nowhere between heaven and hell that they could ever hope to hide from him. Every thought, word, feeling, and secret you have will never know a safer place to rest than with him."

As Theo's concerned words floated back to her, Hermione took a deep breath and prayed she wouldn't regret the night as she relented by saying, "But what am I going to wear?"

"Leave it to me," Barty announced, already getting up and heading not for the castle but the Whomping Willow. "I'll be out and back in before you two are to leave with the perfect outfit to bring him to his knees."

"Pink, Barty. She likes pink. And bows and lace and… well, you know what his preferences lean to."

"Tiny, innocent, corruptible little doll, I know," he responded gleefully, making Hermione already regret her acquiescence. "I have the perfect thing in mind after seeing it on our last Hogsmeade trip."

Watching him sprint across the grounds, not even having bothered to remember his cloak despite the crisp January air, she asked, "Should I be concerned?"

"About Barty? No. About how fast my brother will get you out of your knickers tonight? Only if you had plans of saving yourself for marriage."

"I am not sleeping with Sirius," she replied indignantly.

"Thank fuck for that," was all Regulus said, before hoisting her up from the ground and dragging her into a new conversation, leaving her confusion over his polarizing views of his brother to melt away.