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CHAPTER 18

"What can I get you?"

Leaning one hand on the bar, the bartender smiled, and I couldn't help but notice the large scar that started at his wrist and ended just below his elbow. Something nasty must have caused it, but looking at this guy, I wouldn't know where to begin guessing what could have happened; he looked like he wrestled alligators as a hobby.

"I'm actually looking for Charlie Weasley. I was told he owns this pub."

"He sure does." His smile turned into a grin and he nodded, pointing a finger at his chest. "I'm Charlie, and you are?"

"Lucius Malfoy." I reached my hand across the bar and he shook it.

"And the reason you're looking for me is..?"

"We have a mutual friend," I winced slightly, guilt washing over me.

Hermione had arranged for me to meet Charlie. I was supposed to wait for her outside the pub and she would introduce us properly. However, I had been pacing my flat all afternoon, questions piling up inside my head, and I needed to talk with him before she arrived.

"Yeah? Who's that then?"

I rubbed my fingers nervously across my forehead and looked past him. It was late afternoon on a Monday and the pub was relatively quiet, but the few people who were sitting at the bar were watching us keenly.

"Hermione Granger."

His face instantly changed, going from friendly to near rage in a millisecond. "Is she alright? What happened to her?"

I held my hand up. "Nothing, she's fine."

He continued to frown at me, the seconds dragging by in inches, until I thought he was about to leap over the bar and throw me out of the pub. Then his expression changed. A slow smile crawled across his face and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, right, I get it. You're the reason my Tuesday nights have become quite the bore."

I felt my face heat up and I gripped the back of my neck, wondering if he knew that I had once been the audience to his Tuesday night sleep-overs.

"No hard feelings, mate. I knew the deal with her when we started." He laughed again, a loud, hearty guffaw. "Although, I do have to say, you're not who I expected."

"Someone younger, maybe?"

"Definitely." He laughed again and slapped the bar. "But there's no point trying to figure her out. She'll do what she pleases… and who."

I nodded, wondering why Hermione didn't want more with this guy. He was good-looking — ruggedly handsome would be how the writer side of my brain would describe him — friendly, and built like a cage fighter. If Hermione wasn't interested, I was sure a thousand other women were; hell, I may have even been crushing on him.

"It's yours, Hannah," he said to the attractive blonde behind the bar. Attractive, yes, but I felt nothing when she looked up and smiled at me.

"Nothing?" Charlie asked, grinning at me as if he could read my thoughts, and then looking back at the girl he had called Hannah. "I mean, seriously, nothing?"

I shook my head, "No. I've found my someone. I just wanted to talk to you about her before she arrives."

He nodded, pouring two glasses of scotch and indicated to the booth in the back corner of the pub. "Come on, you look pretty serious. We can talk there."

He slid the glass across the table when we sat down, his eyes never leaving me as I lifted the tumbler and swirled the amber liquid in the glass, the ice clinking against the sides. I emptied the glass in one swallow, and then spun it on the table, trying to figure out where to start, but nothing came to mind. Charlie simply waited. Hermione hadn't been lying; she'd described him as patient and quiet, and that was definitely the man sitting across from me.

"Not much talking going on for someone who wanted to talk," he said mildly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I let out a breath and looked up at him. He was leaning back, his arm stretched out along the back of the padded seat. He looked casual and completely at ease.

"Sorry," I finally said. "This is just… Christ. I don't fucking know what this is."

He chuckled. "Awkward?"

"You were sleeping with her before I was, is awkward the right word?"

He pointed an acknowledging finger at me and then asked, "What did she tell you about our arrangement?"

I was instantly relieved; we could get this part of the conversation out of the way before I asked my questions.

"One night a week, other partners were allowed, she had none but wasn't completely sure about you." I shrugged. "And nothing between you other than sex."

"Sounds about right," he said with a rueful look.

"I suspect you may have wanted more."

It was the first sign I'd seen that this was bothering him. That I was bothering him. Not me exactly, but the fact that Hermione had given up their arrangement in favour of me.

He leaned his forearms on the table and shook his head. "Your suspicions are correct. I wasn't seeing anyone else while we were doing—" he flipped his hand in the air "—what we were doing. But I also knew that she didn't have the same feelings for me. I wasn't it for her, and I knew it. But I guess I just held onto that hope that maybe she would change her mind. And then she cancelled on me four weeks in a row, and I knew it was over. She'd found you."

"I'd say sorry," I shrugged and shook my head. "But honestly, I'm not."

"And like I said, no hard feelings from me." Charlie tapped the table in front of me. "But something obviously has happened for you to be here without her."

I took a breath. "I wanted to ask a few questions about… what happened to her, and I think it would be easier to talk with you without her here."

His jaw clenched and I could see the anger brewing in his eyes, the anger of a brother, of a protector, of someone who would possibly kill the bastard who hurt her if given the chance. "She told you what happened?"

"Just a few days ago. We're both stubborn, and we'd been short with each other over something trivial. She broke down completely after we'd had dinner with Harry and Pansy—" I paused while the blonde placed more drinks on the table. She smiled at me, but I barely acknowledged her, muttering a rough thanks and then staring down at the table.

"Some heavy shit going on here," she noted with a low whistle. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks, Hann," Charlie said, and she headed back to the bar. "Seriously, nothing?"

The heavy tension broke at his comment and I laughed, "No, seriously. Nothing. She's insanely pretty, but there's no interest there for me."

"I can see that," he said. "And Hermione told you what?"

"After she finally calmed down, she told me everything." I curled my hand into a fist and clenched my jaw, looking up at Charlie and seeing the same expression on his face. "I want to hunt that bastard down and kill him."

Charlie's jaw relaxed and he grinned, "Get in line, mate. I have five brothers and a mother who will fight you for that honour."

"How...?" I shook my head. "How could anyone do that to her?"

"He was a cunt," Charlie said bluntly, then held up his hand. "And I am in no way blaming her when I say this: we all tried to make her see what he was doing, but she wouldn't listen. He was a crafty piece of shit and was pleasant enough in the beginning, but we all began to see the changes in her. He would speak for her, made all of her decisions — and then made her believe she'd forgotten what she'd agreed to or said. He came between us, wouldn't let her see us without him. And in case you're wondering, we never would have abandoned her. We were this close to kidnapping her or something when he…"

Charlie's hand curled into a fist and his anger tightened his chest.

"He only did it once. Harry, and my brothers and I explained to him — in a way that he wouldn't forget — that if he even thought about coming near her again, his family would spend the rest of their lives looking for his body."

For a split second I thought he was joking, but the darkening of his eyes told me he was completely serious.

"And believe me when I say, he was lucky it was us that got to him first. Mum would have put him in the ground then pissed on his grave."

I wasn't sure how to respond and he laughed.

"My mum is the sweetest, kindest, most caring woman you'll ever meet. But hurt one of her kids, and you'll be wishing you never met her."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. Hermione had explained how Molly and Arthur treated her and Harry like they were their own children.

"Hermione said Molly and Arthur took her in after."

"Yeah, they insisted. Hermione wanted to hide from us all. I guess she was embarrassed. Mum wouldn't have it, and they brought her to the family home in Worplesdon. They have a small acreage there and since the slimy cunt had never been there, he wouldn't find her if he went looking."

"And did he ever find her?"

"No. He knew well enough to stay away." He grinned slyly at me. "We're all spread out across the boroughs, and we thought it odd none of us had seen him in probably two years. So Harry did a search in the database… cunt got five years for domestic assault. He's sitting in jail as we speak."

"Does she know?"

Charlie shook his head. "We weren't sure if we should tell her. She'd be devastated if she knew another woman had gone through what she did. And she'd be equally devastated that she didn't go after him and stop him from doing it again."

"Why didn't she? Go after him, I mean?"

"She was too traumatised. Plus, she had a lot of reservations about facing him in court. We all knew she was strong enough to do it, but she didn't think she was. So we didn't push her since she'd been through enough shit. It took almost a year for her to be able to walk from the ballet school to the tube station a block and a half away on her own, that's what he did to her." He lifted his hand and signalled for another round of drinks. "And, I think she thought the restraining order, our none too subtle threat, and Harry explaining that his cop mates wouldn't look too kindly upon him, would be enough to scare him off. "

I tried to reconcile the image of her bouncing happily down the stairs each day to catch the tube with the person Charlie was describing and found it rather difficult. Every aspect of her life — with the notable exception of praise — was met with an exuberant enthusiasm that most people would find exhausting. Ballet, her friends, her flat, my son and his wife, my grandson, and — thankfully — me, all seemed to bring her such joy. And while I'd bore witness to her breakdown a week earlier, my mind simply could not conjure the image of her so broken.

"She explained that you were the one who helped her the most."

"We all did, I was just a bit more forceful in how I approached it. The others would take her out, but they always decided where and when. I made her choose. She needed to get back her independence and her confidence. And making decisions for her wasn't helping with that."

Hannah arrived with two more drinks. We both thanked her and I glanced up at the clock.

"Would you mind keeping an eye out for Hermione, Hannah? I was supposed to meet her outside and she should be here soon."

Hannah promised she would and wandered back to the bar.

"It must have been more than you dragging her out to dinner that brought her back to herself."

"Dancing was the one thing she never allowed to falter. And the catalyst was when she was elevated to principal at the ballet. She was so proud that she'd achieved her goal, and it just seemed to bring back her spark."

"I think you played a pretty big part in that." I offered my hand across the table. "And if you haven't been thanked already, I'd like to be the one to say it."

"She's a special girl," he said as he shook my hand. "Slightly mental, but we love her anyway."

"Yes, she definitely has the instantaneous effect of making one fall completely in love with her."

I looked across the pub to see her watching us. Her face was blank and I held my breath waiting for her reaction. She began to walk towards us, a slow smile stretching across her face.

"I came inside to warn Charlie to be nice," she said when she stopped at the table. "But I can see that's unnecessary."

"We wanted to get a head start," Charlie said, lifting his glass. "I know how much of a lightweight you are and didn't want to embarrass you."

"Ha ha." She punched his arm then leaned down and hugged him. "You better not have been a prat, Charlie Weasley."

He patted the arm wrapped around his neck and laughed. "I've been a perfect gentleman."

She gave me a questioning look and I held both my hands up.

"He's not lying."

"Good." She slapped the back of his head and moved to sit beside me.

"What was that for?" Charlie asked, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him.

"Just in case you're both lying." She smiled at me. "Hey."

"Hi," I responded, wanting to kiss her but not wanting to make Charlie feel awkward. "Sorry. I was going to wait for you, but I got here earlier than you arranged…"

"Because you wanted to ask Charlie some questions without me here?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course." She turned back to Charlie. "This is Lucius, the guy I was telling you about."

"Oh, good. I thought I was talking to the wrong guy for a minute," he replied jokingly.

Hannah returned to the table with a pint glass filled with water, placing it in front of Hermione.

"We don't serve water here," Charlie said with a grin as Hermione held her middle finger up to him.

"For VIP customers we do," Hannah replied with a wink at Hermione. "So, this is the guy, huh?"

"This is Lucius." Hermione looped her arm around mine and hugged me tightly. "And yes, he is the guy."

"Well, I definitely approve." She nodded at our empty glasses. "You both need a refill?"

I shook my head, as did Charlie, and Hermione coughed — a cough that sounded distinctly like, lightweight.

"Funny," Charlie said. "But I do have to go back to work. And Mum wants to know why you haven't visited."

I listened to the easy back and forth between them, and it was hard to miss the connection. He was the one who had brought her back from the darkness, had shown her how to be strong again. He'd also seen her naked and had an intimate knowledge of her.

I waited for the jealousy to kick in. And surprisingly, it didn't.

She leaned against me, her shoulder pressing into my side while her hand rested on my thigh. Charlie may have had intimate knowledge of her, but this was even more so. This wasn't an arrangement, and it wasn't for show. This was real. She'd chosen me and had told me she loved me. I had no reason to be jealous.

"So, I'm assuming since you live in her building, you're doing okay and can take care of her?" Charlie's attention had returned to me.

"He grew up in a manor house, Charlie," Hermione told him. "He went to a posh boarding school, and he's a best selling author. Also, don't be rude."

"Best selling author, huh? Has he written anything I'd know?"

"He writes novels, not comic books."

"You're hilarious," Charlie quipped. "How about I tell him about your obsession with Loki? I still haven't got those comics back."

"Mythical god Loki, or Tom Hiddleston Loki?" I asked, earning myself an elbow in the ribs.

Charlie snorted. "Which one do you think?"

"Yes, I fangirl over Tom Hiddleston. At least he's a real person, unlike the big-titted, small-waisted, unrealistic women in your picture books."

"Graphic novels," I corrected and Charlie began to laugh.

"Oh, I like you."

Hermione grinned at me. "Do you have a comic book fantasy I don't know about, Lucius Malfoy? Should I be out looking for a Wonder Woman costume?"

"Jean Grey, actually," I informed her and Charlie pointed a finger at me.

"Excellent choice. Powerful and hot as hell," he said with a wink.

"And any woman who can levitate…" I added.

"And here I was thinking you were all mature and old-fashioned and gentlemanly," Hermione squeezed my thigh. "When really you're just a horny, teenage boy."

"Those graphic novels got me through a lot of lonely nights in boarding school," I mused. "Perhaps we could find you that Wonder Woman costume."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Charlie laughed again.

"Oh yeah, I definitely like you."

Hermione slipped her hand into mine, linking our fingers as we walked away from Charlie's pub. My heavy conversation with him had cleared up a lot of my concerns, and the light-hearted banter after she'd arrived eased any lingering doubts I may have had about her relationship with him. They were friends — good friends — and the sexual relationship they'd shared was secondary to that.

I saw the same adoration that I saw with all her friends in his eyes, and the conversation between them was that of long term friendship. He may have still held a small flicker of flame for her but I also sensed he was pleased she was happy.

"There's a cafe two blocks away," Hermione pointed out. "We could eat there and not have to wash dishes at home."

"I like this plan," I said. The three scotches I'd drank had relaxed me and the last thing I wanted to do was go home and cook dinner.

"What's your verdict?" she asked as we paused at the crosswalk, both us looking either way in unison before crossing the road.

"About Charlie?"

"Yeah. Do you love him or hate him and want to rip his balls off?"

"None of the above," I answered. "He's a good man, and I like him."

"And did he answer your questions?"

"He did." I squeezed her hand. "You don't mind that I did that?"

"Not at all. He wouldn't have been as open with you if I was there. And you would have been more cautious with your questions."

"I still feel like I've gone behind your back."

"You haven't," she assured me. "My friends have a different perspective on what happened and I'm okay with them talking about it now, so you can ask them anything you want."

"Have I told you how incredible you are?"

"Not today." She bumped her shoulder into mine and brought her free hand up to wrap around my bicep. "But feel free to tell me every day."

"I promise," I told her. "And I'm pleased you're not shying away from praise today."

"I still feel like I should, but I'm becoming accustomed to it with you."

"Good, because I don't plan on stopping."

A/N: Apologies for taking so long to post this chapter, I've had too many distractions to keep me on track with it.

Thanks for sticking with it xx