A/N: Huge thank you for your comments, kudos and bookmarks after last chapter! And huge shout out to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter five and be on the lookout for chapter six soon!
Boredom. Once again, Hermione's days were filled with boredom while she waited for Fenrir to give her something to do. She'd even been so desperate as to text Remus to find out what was going on, only to be disappointed when he had nothing of import to report. There was no need for her at the warehouse at the moment.
So she filled her time however she could, but seeing as it had been a rainy week, she was mostly stuck inside, listening to old records and baking. While she was never a great cook (hey, it was edible, just not amazing), she found that she was getting quite good at baking, which required precision and carefully following directions. Her kitchen was soon filled with cookies and small cupcakes and macarons and croissants and absolutely no one to share them with. Hermione found that the relative difficulty of pastry called to her the most, and before long she was making all different kinds.
Hermione was working in the kitchen when her phone finally rang. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fenrir's name flash on the screen. Cursing at the timing, she used her elbow to answer the phone and put it on speaker. "Hello?"
"Peach," he said, his voice gravelly and delicious as usual, even over the phone line. "How I've missed hearing your voice. Remus doesn't sound a third as lovely as you do."
She laughed, even though she didn't want to. "Yeah, well, you've left me to my own devices for long enough," she said, pouting a little bit, even though he couldn't see her hurt face. "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten about me, now that I've got you all set up with Scabior and Greengrass."
"I could never forget you, Peach," he countered. She could hear him grinning on the other end of the phone. "Your arse will fuel my dreams until the end of my days."
"Ugh," Hermione answered, though she could feel her cheeks going hot at the compliment. "You had to go and ruin the moment, didn't you?"
"Can't help it if it's the truth," he countered, not even a little bit embarrassed by the heaps of praise he was pouring into her. She couldn't tell if this was all just a game to him, wanting to see how uncomfortable he could make her or if he actually desired her. To be honest, she didn't know which she would prefer, either.
"I presume that you had a reason for calling?" she asked, knowing that Fenrir was a busy man.
"I'm going to come pick you up in a few minutes and we are going to take a little drive," he said, his voice serious. "Be out front waiting for me."
Hermione looked at her hands, covered in caramel sauce as she had been in the middle of constructing a croquembouche. "Um, you really do have the worst timing, Fenrir," she said, regretfully. "I'm elbows deep into something at the moment."
"Whatever it is doesn't matter," he insisted. "Don't leave me waiting." And then he hung up the phone, leaving no room for argument.
She waffled for a moment, before setting down one of her delicate little choux pastries and moving to wash her hands, ridding herself of the sticky caramel. She looked down at her outfit and figured it would do for the day, even if it wasn't quite as "hard" looking as what she normally wore. She didn't have much time to get downstairs. Staring at the pile of pain au chocolate on her kitchen countertop, she grabbed one for her new boss.
Hermione wondered if she should text Remus to tell him about this impromptu little trip that she was taking with Fenrir. She knew that he would want to know, but who was to say that he didn't already know? Surely, he'd been at the warehouse when Fenrir left. Biting her lower lip, she opened a new message to Remus and stared at the blinking line, trying to think up words to tell him what she was up to. But then, the hour flicked over on the clock and she knew that she didn't have time.
Running down the stairs, she got to the front of the building just in time to see Fenrir pull up in his car. She fought a smile when she realized it was a vintage Jensen Interceptor — the same car that her grandfather had driven after he'd retired, a car her mother hated. It was unreliable and her grandfather had spent practically all his time working on it.
Fenrir's car was an attractive dark blue color that was obviously custom done. She opened the passenger seat and slipped inside. "Nice car," she said, greeting him.
"Thanks," he answered, giving her a crooked smile.
"Pastry?" she asked, offering him the croissant.
He looked at her like she was crazy, but took it anyway. He took a bite, flaky pastry getting all over his lap, but he made a noise to show how delicious he found it. It made her feel a bit warm in the middle when she realized that he was enjoying something that she made. She didn't have anyone else to share these little treats with, so it was nice to be able to have someone appreciate the fruits of her labor.
"That's good," he said, sounding surprised. "Get it from somewhere around here?"
"Something like that," she answered, biting her lower lip. She didn't want to tell him that she'd made it herself. That felt too much like bragging. "So, what was so important that you had to come pick me up?"
"It's time to get you your dryer, Peach," he said, grinning at her. He put the car into gear and they started to drive towards the shop where they'd pick one out.
"Oh," she said, surprised. "That's good. We do need to get moving on dirtying up the money."
"Sorry I had to pull you away from whatever it was that you were working on," he said, though he didn't sound all that apologetic. Hermione thought that he rather liked having her at his beck and call.
"You were right. It wasn't important," she said, thinking about the croquembouche sitting in her kitchen. It wasn't as if she was going to eat it all or that she had anywhere to present it. She was certain that she would never make one again — she just didn't exactly have the occasion for it. Besides, she'd really only decided to make it because of the challenge that it presented.
"Glad you are starting to figure out how things work around here," he answered.
It didn't take them too long to get where they were going — a seedy looking appliance store. Hermione didn't expect much out of the building when they were parking, but when they walked in, she was extremely surprised by all of the high end appliances that they seemed to have in stock. "Well, that was unexpected," she said, trying not to gawk as she looked around. She walked up to a refrigerator and let her fingers run up and down the handle.
She could feel Fenrir standing right behind her — a touch too close, almost too improper for public, and assuredly improper for the relationship that they had. She forced herself to keep her focus on the fridge in front of her, instead of the hairsbreadth of space between the two of them.
He brought his hand up next to hers, opening the freezer side door, revealing the fluorescent white color inside. "Unexpected how?" he asked, curious about everything she had to say.
"Well, from the outside, it seemed like this was more of a second-hand sort of place," she said, with a frown. "But inside, it's like a glossy catalog. I think this one fridge costs more than all the appliances in my flat."
Fenrir shut the freezer door, before grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her around to face him. Hermione pressed her back against the fridge, hoping to escape his overwhelming presence, but she was completely boxed in. He used one large hand to grab her by the chin, making her look at him. Damn him and his superior height. She hated this vantage.
"Really? A successful accountant like yourself?" he asked, his voice dangerous and intrigued. "I would have thought you could have the best of everything. You practically name your price and have guys like me falling all over themselves to do as you say."
Hermione did not think that was an accurate description of their relationship at all. She was the one who was walking over eggshells, not wanting to upset her new "boss" lest he tire of her and decide she wasn't actually worth the hassle. But mostly, she was upset with herself for nearly giving up one detail too far. It wasn't easy not to make some quip about living on a government salary.
"Just because I have money doesn't mean I spend it frivolously," she said, holding her breath and standing up a bit straighter. "I'm frugal. No need to waste money on something like this when a basic model works just fine."
"Frugal?" he repeated, with a crooked sort of smile. For one breath, Hermione worried that he had sniffed out that she wasn't exactly who she said she was. "Well, today, I am going to treat you. You can pick out the top of the line, all the bells and whistles, dryer."
"Anything for me?" she asked, feeling her heartbeat pound away against her ribcage. She wondered if he could feel its traitorous rhythm.
He smirked at me. "Anything for my money," he reminded her, giving her a patronizing little slap on the bottom of her chin. Then he took a step back from her, finally giving her breathing room again.
It took everything in her not to crumble to her knees at that. She hated that he'd done that, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Biting the inside of her lip, she reminded herself that he was going to be arrested at the end of all of this. "Well, your money doesn't really need all the bells and whistles. A simple dryer will do," she answered. Didn't he know that she was going to be washing it with rocks and other things?
Before he could answer, they were approached by a sales girl, furiously chewing on a large wad of gum. "Can I help you with something?" she asked like there were one million things she would rather do than help them out.
Fenrir put on a big fake smile, though Hermione could still see the predator in him. "We would love some help," he cooed, before throwing a big arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer into his side. "My wife and I are looking for a new dryer. Ours went out and the repairman says there is nothing to be done."
Hermione forced a huge smile on her face, detesting this little ruse that Fenrir had set up for them. Was it really necessary to pretend to be married? "Pretty shit anniversary present as far as I am concerned," she said with a big huge grin on her face.
The sales girl was completely unphased, cracking her gum against her molars while she looked at the odd couple. "I'm sure we can find you a dryer," she deadpanned, waving her hand towards the laundry displays. "Did you have anything in particular in mind?"
"Whatever my baby wants," Fenrir said, scrunching her body even closer to his in a half hug. "Money is no object for her."
Hermione laughed, not wanting the sales girl to think any less of her. He was making it out to be like she was some kind of money obsessed airhead. "Honestly, anything that has a few options for delicates would be ideal," she said, wanting to get in and get out as soon as possible. She wasn't sure what to think of Fenrir, but she knew that the sooner she was back home in her own flat, the better.
The other woman turned and started walking them towards the dryers. Hermione threw Fenrir's heavy arm off of her shoulders and stalked after her. The girl didn't seem to know much about actually selling appliances, but Hermione really didn't need a sophisticated machine. In the end, she quickly picked out a gleaming white dryer that was more of a mid-range model — something that wouldn't break the bank, but also wasn't going to fall apart after a few cycles.
Fenrir settled up with the shop, pulling out a wad of large bills to pay in cash, before arranging for delivery later that afternoon. The sales girl didn't sound even a bit concerned that it was delivered to a warehouse with its own loading dock. It didn't exactly live up to the ruse that it was a domestic machine meant for a husband and wife, Hermione thought snidely.
When they were finished at the appliance shop, Fenrir led her back to his old car. As he drove away, he started chuckling to himself.
"What is it?" Hermione demanded. "What's so funny?"
"You are," he said, smirking at her. "You had no idea that it was just a front for a fence, did you? All of those appliances are stolen. That's not even a real appliance shop. It changes depending on what Antonin gets in every few weeks."
Hermione sat in silence, her eyes dropping to her lap, wondering how she hadn't put it together. That would make sense with the sketchy sort of exterior and the disparate quality of the products. She felt stupid that she hadn't realized. "Maybe I just liked the ruse you came up with," she said, shooting him a cheeky smile.
"Nah, I don't think that was it, Peach," he said, shaking his head. "You might be some hot shot accountant who works for who knows what, but you really aren't about this lifestyle at all, are you? You have no idea the kind of people that you are really dealing with."
She gave him a tight smile, wishing that he hadn't been able to see right through her armor. How much did he really know about who she was? Had he pieced together that she was undercover? He didn't let on too much.
"You have me much more... involved in the day to day than my other clients," she said, knowing that it was true. "It seems like you want me to be hands on."
"I'd like your hands all over me, Peach," he teased, his good-natured flirting back.
Hermione snorted, the undercurrent of danger mostly dissipating, though she could still feel the icy currents of a fast current curling around her legs, ready to drag her under the ocean's surface. "So, is Antonin a friend or a colleague?" she asked, hoping to sound casual and not like she was fishing for information. "Is he your fence?"
"He's up the food chain," Fenrir said, but didn't elaborate. "You might meet him. But for now, I am going to keep you all to myself."
She certainly had no desire to meet Antonin. She was just trying to learn as much about Fenrir's set up as she could, so her undercover work could actually be useful for something if she was going to be giving up so many months of her life to this.
"Well, I don't know that I'm ready to take on more work than I already have," she said, not wanting to get too involved in this whole money laundering business. She did have a day job to go back to after all. "You've already given me plenty to handle." Realizing what she said, she fought off a smile. "Don't even say it!" she scolded.
"If you insist," he growled, obviously upset that his chance to make another innuendo was dashed.
It didn't take long before they pulled up in front of her building once again. Fenrir stopped the car, but didn't let her get out just yet. He reached into the back seat and pulled a band of bills out of a beat up leather briefcase and handed it to her.
Hermione thumbed through the hundred notes and quickly guessed that it was about ten thousand. "What's this?" she asked, looking up at him.
Fenrir gave her a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your pay," he said, with one of those devastating crooked half grins. He scratched the length of his jaw, the scruff looking inviting. "I assumed that you wanted a salary for your work. Surely you don't work for free."
"Oh," Hermione said, suddenly not sure of what to do with herself. What the hell was she supposed to do with this dirty money that he was giving her. "Well, of course I don't work for free, but...we never worked out the terms." She nibbled at her lower lip, knowing that there was no way she could refuse.
"This is just the first installment," he said, suddenly self-conscious.
Hermione wondered if he suddenly felt as though what he offered wasn't substantial enough. The thought tickled her. "That's perfect," she agreed. "And these installments will occur...?"
"Monthly," he said, puffing out his chest as though he was trying to appear sure of himself. "And if you are doing a good job, you can expect bonuses."
"Bonuses?" Hermione repeated. God, the Bureau never paid her a bonus before. That would certainly be nice to get every once in a while. And of course, she knew this was all just to build a case, but she knew that she would impress Fenrir with this job that she did. She was Hermione Granger for fuck's sake.
"Yeah, like that dryer I bought you," he teased. "All the bells and whistles."
She rolled her eyes at him once again. She opened the car door and got out. "Goodbye, Fenrir," she said with a smirk, ready to close the door behind her. "And call me when you've got my dryer all set up and ready to go."
Walking to her door, Hermione wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. She needed to talk to Sirius.
