A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! Sorry for the long delay - I was traveling and didn't have much time to write, but back now. This is unbeta'd because I just couldn't wait to post, so the errors are all mine. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter seven and be on the lookout for chapter eight soon!
The dryer was delivered the next day and Fenrir wanted to get started right away. He called her and let her know he expected her to be there by lunch time. Hermione was happy to agree to his time table. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, too. She'd barely been working with Fenrir for two weeks and it already felt like he was under her skin.
Not long after Fenrir called, Remus sent her a text, offering to come pick her up to bring her to the warehouse. She sent him back a curt decline, thinking that a bit of fresh air would help her get in the right headspace. She pulled on her boots and Sirius's oversized leather jacket and started the short walk, so that when Remus sent her back a protest, she could tell him that she was already on her way.
It didn't take her long to get to the warehouse and she even ended up there earlier than Fenrir requested. She greeted Stan at the door and made her way through the now familiar grey hallways towards Fenrir's office. Predictably, she found him sitting at his desk, pouring over some papers — he looked more like a bank manager or a stock analyst than a gangster at the moment. It brought a smile to her face, wondering if he could have had some other life like that had he not chosen a life of crime.
Hermione knocked at the door, getting his attention. "Hey," she said in greeting.
When Fenrir looked up at her, he gave her a slow, crooked smile, like he was genuinely pleased to see her. It made her stomach do a wild sort of flip flop and her smile faltered. "Hey yourself," he answered. "You are more than punctual, Peach."
"Some would say that's my best quality," she answered back, teasing. Flirting. Sirius's insistence that she might enjoy flirting came back to haunt her and she wanted to put her foot down and tell the world that she didn't like to flirt. But, the way that her heart started to beat a bit faster when she talked to Fenrir seemed to suggest otherwise. She might enjoy flirting. Well, she might enjoy flirting with Fenrir.
"Ready to get started?" he asked, pressing his hands to the table top in front of him.
"Yes," Hermione said, putting on a confident look. She could do this, even if it wasn't what she expected to be doing when she joined the Bureau. "Lead the way, please."
Fenrir stood and walked past her, before leading her through the hallways towards the room where the money was kept. He held the door open for her — a gentleman and a criminal in one, she thought, rolling her eyes at the chivalry. When he shut the door behind him, she was struck by the knowledge that they were well and truly alone. He stood close enough to her that she could smell the spicy scent of his cologne, alluring and intoxicating in equal measures.
Needing to get her head back on, Hermione decided to focus on his hoard. Only, it wasn't what it was like before. She remembered the rough calculations that she'd done before and it seemed like there was more now. Narrowing her eyes, she turned to look at him. "It seems bigger than I remember," she said, fighting the upturn of her lips.
"You flatter me," Fenrir said, with a deep, throaty chuckle. "Didn't know that you cared so much."
Hermione did smile then. "Well, if there is one thing I'm an expert in, it's money," she said, saccharine sweet. "But, you know that I'm not going to do this for you forever right? I'm just going to get you started and then... someone else is going to have to pick up the slack."
"I know," he said, holding his hands up in the air.
"Good," she answered, curtly. "I just wanted you to know that just because you keep adding more money to the pile doesn't... extend my time with you."
"Then I will just have to enjoy it while it lasts," Fenrir said, though she could hear a clear disappointment in his voice. "And hope you don't notice next time I get a big score."
"Oh, big score?" she asked, wanting to press him for details, but as ever, knew that she couldn't seem over eager. "You should have told me. We could have celebrated."
"I didn't think that you would want to celebrate with me," he said.
"I suppose it depends on how big the score is," she said, looking at him from over her shoulder, before kneeling down next to the pile of money. Methodically, she began piling up stacks of cash that she would put through the dryer that evening. She knew that she couldn't do too much at once. "This should be a good start. How do you want me to go about telling you if I've moved any money? Do I need a chaperone?" she asked, feeling rather like there should be some sort of check out process.
Fenrir gave her a sidelong glance. "It doesn't need to be that official. You just put what you've moved in the books at the end of the day," he said, serious and all business. "Besides, I know how much there is there. If anything ends up missing, I know who to look for and where to find you."
Hermione swallowed thickly, not enjoying the not so subtle threat that he was making. It wasn't as though she was planning on stealing from him, just... well, maybe it was the bit of police in her that was worried about the chain of command. She just imagined that even drug dealers would care, too.
"Understood," she said, looking down at the ground in front of her. There was a chip in the flooring that captured all of her interest. "Well, I should get started then."
"By all means," he said, sweeping his hand to the side so that she could take whatever she needed.
After looking over the financials for both Greengrass & Sons and the Slippery Serpent, she decided that she should break things into about fifty transactions, split over the two businesses, without raising any eyebrows at the banks. Although, should she really be caring around raising eyebrows? The whole goal was to put Fenrir in jail, wasn't it? Maybe this was the perfect opportunity.
Part of her worried about getting Daphne and Scabior caught up in this whole sting, too. They were somewhat innocent in the whole situation, she thought. Well, not totally innocent. They had both agreed with eyes opened to what Fenrir was doing and what he was using their businesses for, so it wasn't as though they didn't know the risks. But, Hermione still knew that the deck was stacked against them. Maybe she should warn them in some way about what was really going on behind the scenes? Only, that was far too risky to attempt. It was foolish even to consider. It could undo everything that Remus had been working towards all these past months.
Crouching down next to the money pile, she began pulling the individual bills out of their bands and throwing them into a garment bag. "Alright, I will start with this, and come back if I need more?" she asked, still feeling awkward about just helping herself to Fenrir's hard earned money.
"Go for it, Peach," he said, giving her a grin, before turning on his heel to lead her to the room where the dryer was set up.
Once she was left alone, Hermione worked to spritz down the bills with water before throwing a couple of rocks and coins into the bag. Once that was in the dryer, she set the machine to delicates and shut the door, starting the cycle. Looking around, Hermione knew that there was nothing to do but wait. A bit annoying, next time, she would have to remember to bring a book or something to pass the time.
Pulling over a folding chair, Hermione pulled out her mobile and flicked through the contacts. She thought about texting Harry or Ron — whose numbers she both had memorized — before deciding that it was needlessly reckless. It wouldn't do to have that show up if Fenrir were to get suspicious. Next, she thought about texting Sirius, before deciding that was too stupid. He had better things to do with his time. Instead, she settled on playing snake for a few rounds. She was never very good at it, but waiting for a dry cycle to complete was enough to improve her fortunes.
She didn't even realize how much time had passed before the timer dinged, letting her know that the dryer was done. Excited, she hopped up from her chair and eagerly pulled out the money and looked it over. Pleased with its now worn in appearance, Hermione went to collect her next stack of bills, setting aside the finished ones for now.
And that was how the rest of her afternoon went, building up enough to deposit with Daphne and Scabior's usual money. Before she realized it, it was well past dark, but she was down to her last bit of money. The cycle was halfway finished when Fenrir finally reappeared, with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. It was the first time that she'd seen him partake in anything, usually the consummate businessman.
Hermione kept her focus on the lone bag in the dryer spinning around and around again, trying desperately to ignore the large man who was staring at her from across the room. She had realized that he made no secret that he enjoyed staring at her arse, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. Part of her wanted to snap at him that he didn't need to babysit her, as he'd already said. He knew where she lived and he could hunt her down if any of his precious money went missing. His presence was distracting after a long day alone. Fenrir breathing down her neck made her stomach do odd sorts of little flip flops.
Looking at him over her shoulder, she watched as he took a drag off of his spliff. "You know, you really don't need to stay here," she said, trying not to focus too much on how rugged he looked with just a bit of scruff on his face. "I can handle myself just fine on my own."
"This is a dangerous part of town, Peach," he said with a grin, knowing how much she detested his little nickname for her. "And besides, I wanted to see how this whole dryer thing worked anyway."
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him. Leaning back against the small appliance, she let her eyes drink in his form — long legs spread out in front of him, a glass of dark colored alcohol in one hand and cigarette held between thumb and forefinger of the other. "Well, it certainly isn't a home ec project," she snarked, unable to help herself.
He laughed at her, then. "You'd be a shit house wife, I take it," he bantered back. "So, how does it work?"
Hermione wasn't sure if he meant that as an insult, but she didn't take it as one. "Well, they don't call it money laundering for nothing," she said with a shrug, before picking up a stack of brand new bills still in their currency strap. "Take this — if you tried to turn this into the bank, it might set off alarm bells. Does this look like something that a stripper would turn in at the end of the night? Or a mechanic for that matter?" she asked, happy to share with him the depths of her knowledge.
"So you are just dirtying it up a bit?" he asked, before taking another drag.
"Exactly," Hermione nodded, unsurprised that he was picking up quickly. Fenrir was no idiot, after all. "Making it look used, warn in. But as you can see, it's a bit of a slow process, so you don't need to stick around. Might be here a while yet," she said, before being overtaken by a yawn. Stretching her arms, her shirt slipped up to show off a sliver of pale skin at her waist.
Biting his lower lip, he made no secret that he enjoyed the view. "You look lonely, standing over there all by yourself," he cooed at her, a predator trying to coax its prey into its grasp. "Why don't you come over here?"
Hermione swallowed thickly, enjoying the obvious way that he wanted her. "But there's nowhere for me to sit," she said, feeling silly.
He gave her another one of those feral grins, before patting one of his strong looking legs. "There's a spot for you right here, Peach."
She stared down at his lap, knowing that there was no way that she would actually take him up on the suggestion, even though there was a traitorous little part of her that was begging her to do it. Fenrir was not her usual type of man, but there was something so irresistible about him, completely in control and willing to do whatever it took to make sure he got his way.
Then, she remembered Sirius's horrible, awful suggestion that she try using Fenrir's obvious interest in her against him. What might he let slip to her if she was more than just an associate? It could help their investigation. Help her get out of this undercover detail sooner. At least, that's what she told herself.
Hermione was crossing the room before she even realized it. Stopping in front of the man, she stared down at him, wondering what the hell she was trying to do. Before she could think on it too long, Fenrir was reaching out and pulling her down to settle into his lap. "There, that's better, isn't it?" he asked, obviously very pleased with himself.
Now that she was perched on him, Hermione wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself. She found herself immediately overwhelmed by his nearness. She hadn't been this close to him since they first met and she could see all the flecks in his intense, blue eyes. Feeling silly, sitting on his lap with absolutely no plan to think of, Hermione wondered where that bold, flirty girl who'd been inhabiting her body had gone.
Taking a deep breath, she steady herself. She grabbed the glass from his hand and drank the remaining liquid — not whiskey like she'd initially assumed, but dark rum instead. "Much," she said, with a smirk, though inside it felt as if a million butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.
Fenrir grinned at her — feral and wanting — and plucked the now empty glass from her hands. He put out his cigarette in it and placed it beside him on the floor. One hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him, while the other rested on her knee. "I knew you'd come round to my way of thinking," he said, obviously quite pleased with himself.
Hermione wanted to make some kind of quip, unwilling to let him gain the upper hand, but he cut her off with a searing kiss, claiming her with lips, tongue and teeth. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in just the right way, pressing her against him. Hermione was helpless to do anything but moan into him, hands pressed against his chest tightening in the crisp cotton of his button down shirt, but not pushing him away. His tongue slid against hers in a pleasurable tangle, sending desire racing through all of her nerves. He nipped at her lower lip, sucking it between his own lips, laving it with his tongue.
Hermione had never been kissed this way, letting him do whatever he wanted with her. She never knew how much she wanted someone to take control of the situation, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just firm enough to keep her where he wanted her. His other hand was splayed at her waist, large fingers squeezing her jean-clad arse every now and again.
She was enjoying him really far too much, and all her worries rushed to the forefront again. She wasn't kissing Fenrir because it might help build a case. She was kissing him because she wanted to. Because there was some kind of animal attraction that drew her to him, that made her yearn for him more than she ever thought possible. But, it was all the worse because she knew that she shouldn't. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she liked him. He was a criminal, after all.
A criminal that she was helping to arrest.
Guilt began to spread through her veins and then she wasn't sure if the twisting in her stomach was from need or remorse.
But, before she could piece it out for herself, the door was thrown open and Remus was sauntering in. "Hermione?" he asked, looking around. "I wondered if—" The words died on his lips.
Hermione hopped up from Fenrir's lap as soon as they were discovered, but the damage was already done. Remus had already seen what she was up to and what she'd been doing. And even if he hadn't, she was sure that her appearance was enough to give her away.
Embarrassment washed over her and she wasn't entirely sure what to say. It wasn't as if she could explain things to Remus, not in front of Fenrir. How strange would that look? And, it wasn't as if she should have to either. Feeling utterly conflicted, Hermione turned to face the dryer. It had long since stopped spinning. "I'll just..." she strode over to the dryer and took the remaining money out. Stacking it as neatly as she could, she returned the bills to Fenrir. "Here, these are ready to be deposited."
Gathering her jacket, Hermione slipped it on, needing to get out of this awkward situation as quickly as possible. "I'm going home now," she announced, bright pink staining her cheeks.
Both Fenrir and Remus offered to drive her home at the same time, but she shook her head furiously.
"No, I'm fine on my own," she insisted. She wasn't sure who it would be worse to be alone with at that moment. No, it was better for her to make her way back by herself.