A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Tremendous thank you to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter! And a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone :) You can find me on tumblr (nauticalparamour).
Please let me know what you thought of chapter twelve and be on the lookout for chapter thirteen next week!
To Hermione's disappointment, Fenrir had started to avoid her after their celebration had been cut short by Remus butting in where he wasn't wanted. She cursed to herself, hoping that her coworker hadn't completely squandered all of the work that she'd put in. And, though she couldn't admit it to herself, it was partly because she longed to find out just how far Fenrir was willing to go with her.
Even though he hadn't sought her out (and was always up to his elbows in work when she walked past his office), Hermione didn't shy away from the warehouse, determined to keep working. It was business as usual as far as she was concerned. After all, she still had a significant amount of money to get through, though she was making a decent dent in the massive pile of currency Fenrir had amassed.
She came in every day, collecting and noting how many bills she removed, before putting them through the dryer in smaller batches. She would sit in front of the dryers, listening to the pleasant hum of the machines. She'd learned her lesson earlier and started to bring a book to read to pass the time. Sometimes, she would stop at the store down the road to buy a cooking magazine, flagging different pages for things that she wanted to try. Anything to keep her mind occupied and not wandering off into daydreams about Fenrir coming to see her once again.
When her work was done for the day, she would put the money into the navy blue deposit bags until she could take them to Daphne and Scabior. Then, she would return home for the day, spending the rest of the afternoon watching the daily soaps half-heartedly while she chopped produce for her dinner. It was a... lonely existence.
She was disappointed when deposit day came and went and still Fenrir didn't have anything to say to her. Hermione walked to see Daphne first, making their fourth deposit of the month together, before heading over to the Slippery Serpent for lunch and boilermakers, as had become something of a habit.
Hermione found herself enjoying the blonde's company more than she thought she would. She could readily admit that she had been completely wrong about the woman when she first met her — and she should have known better. After all, what was it they said about not judging a book by its cover? Daphne turned out to be ambitious and witty and fierce and Hermione found herself wishing more than once that they might be genuine friends.
However, it was not meant to be. Their relationship remained rather surface level, spending most of their time bantering with Scabior behind the bar and talking about the football scores (something that Hermione learned so much more about than she ever thought she would). Every now and again she would learn some new secret detail about Fenrir, but she didn't want to seem overeager, so she tried not to ask about him too much, unless Daphne brought him up first. Then it was only polite to ask follow up questions. Or that's what she told herself.
When she returned from doing her two drops, Hermione hoped that she would finally have an excuse to talk to Fenrir a little bit — he would need a status report, after all. But, when she returned to the warehouse, she found his office empty, with the light off. Sighing, she decided to just put the empty deposit bags on his desk and hoped that he would get the message that everything had gone well.
Leaving the office empty handed, Hermione was surprised to run into Remus. He looked rather pleased with himself and there was something about the smile he gave her that just got under her skin.
"What has you looking so glad?" Hermione asked, letting some of her resentment bleed into her voice.
Remus shrugged his shoulders, like he didn't know what she was talking about. "I don't know, I suppose it's good to see you getting through so much work," he said, before leaning in so they wouldn't be overheard. "Without distractions."
Hermione pulled herself back from him, wanting some more space between them. "Oh, I don't think that my work was being hampered by any distractions, Remus," she said with a sneer. "In fact, I would say that I've been enjoying myself much less now that I don't have any excitement in my life."
Again, he reached out, trying to put his hand on her shoulder and give her a little squeeze. "Hermione, please," he said, sounding as if he were really wounded by her attitude.
"Don't, Remus," she insisted, slipping out from under his arm. She didn't like the overly familiar way that he was touching her. Yes, they were in this odd assignment together, but that didn't mean that she felt like they were buddy-buddy. Especially when he'd messed up... whatever was going on between her and Fenrir. "Listen, I don't tell you how to do your job. Don't tell me how to do mine."
"I wouldn't dream of it, I just wanted to... to counsel you," he suggested, his green eyes searching her own. "I wanted you to see that there are... other paths?"
She couldn't even begin to understand what sort of secret message he was trying to tell her, but she didn't really want to. She didn't need his help or his counseling or to go down another path. All of her opportunities to get more information seemed to dry up as soon as Remus had done whatever he'd done to get between her and Fenrir.
"The path that I'm on was working out just fine," she insisted, wondering if Sirius had even bothered to talk to him or if Remus just still thought that he was doing everything right.
Before Remus could respond, Hermione heard someone calling her from down the end of the hall.
"Peach," Fenrir practically barked at her. "Come on, we have business."
Hermione did not wait to be called again. She turned away from Remus and quickly walked to Fenrir's side, happy to be acknowledged again, even if it still seemed like Fenrir was unhappy with her for whatever reason. "Hello Fenrir," she greeted him, trying to seem unbothered that he hadn't even said hello to her once in over a week after the intense snog they'd had. "I just finished up the deposits for the day. What can I help you with?"
"Good, good. No issues?" he asked her, showing that he was actually interested in the business side, no matter what was wrong.
"No issues, other than Scabior being his usual self," she said. "Apparently, he's trying to recruit Astoria to work there." Astoria was Daphne's younger sister who was somehow even more beautiful than Daphne.
"He'd have a line around the block if he could. But Daphne would murder him before that could happen," he quipped, fighting a smile.
"I don't doubt that," she said, following him out of the warehouse to where his car was parked. She didn't even have to be told to get into the passenger side.
When Fenrir got in, he started the ignition. "We are going to collect protection money today," he informed her, pulling out onto the street.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't love the idea of going with to collect extorted money from different places in the neighborhood, especially if the protection was nebulous at best. Who was he really protecting them from? Himself? She tried to remind herself that this was just a different lifestyle than she was used to and while she would balk at the idea of paying someone to "protect" her, obviously it was a part of life for the people in this neighborhood.
"Don't you have like, some kind of underling to go and do this?" she asked, hoping that her question didn't come off as too rude, before she remembered that Fenrir enjoyed her smart mouth.
"Usually someone else does it," Fenrir told her, nodding. Of course, he was extremely busy, running his entire operation. He wouldn't have time to go do this every month. "But, it's good to show the boss's face every now and again, yeah? Remind them of just who is in charge here."
"Well, where are we going first?" she asked, wanting to file away any knowledge she could get. You never knew what or when something could become very valuable to know.
"To the Zabini house," he said, like she should just know what he was talking about. "Marcella Zabini runs a numbers racket."
"A numbers racket?" Hermione repeated, feeling rather stupid that she was asking the question, but she hadn't been fast enough to stop herself.
Fenrir laughed, the sound low and throaty. "Yeah, a numbers game? You know, like gambling?" he asked, obviously incredulous that she shouldn't know.
In the far reaches of her brain, Hermione remembered some training on a numbers game. "Yeah, yeah. You place bets on numbers and then some are randomly generated what... every day? Or week?" she asked, seeing Fenrir's affirmative nod. "I just... it seems rather old fashioned to me, that's all. I didn't know anyone still did it."
"It can be quite lucrative in certain communities," he explained. He didn't sound condescending, which Hermione appreciated. She knew that he sometimes thought she came off as naive to some of these matters. "Anyway, Marcella has been running it for years and it keeps her in furs and pearls."
Hermione smiled despite herself, imagining the sort of woman that Marcella must be. "She sounds amazing," she said, thinking that she must be pretty fierce to run a gambling racket by herself as a woman, especially in this neighborhood.
"She's... opinionated that's for sure," Fenrir quipped. "So you probably would like her."
They had just pulled up at a nondescript blue house, whose paint had faded over many years. "Do I not get to meet her?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows drawing together. She had assumed that they would be collecting money from her.
"Her son, Blaise, does most of the day to day, now," Fenrir said, putting the car into park and getting out.
She tried not to seem disappointed and followed him up to the side door. It was unlocked and they helped themselves inside the kitchen. A man was placing his bets with a young man, about the same age as herself, at the kitchen table. He had an enormous paper book in front of him, with thousands of digits written in blue ink.
While they waited for the man to finish selecting his numbers, another man waltzed into the kitchen, with a spliff hanging out of the side of his mouth, a can of beer in his hand. He also seemed to be mid-twenties and had a shock of white blond hair on top of his head.
He grinned seeing them standing there and pulled Fenrir in for an awkward side hug. "Fenrir," he greeted him. "Who is the tart?"
Hermione made a face of disgust at the derogatory term that the man had called her. He was somewhat good looking, but she got the distinct feeling that he thought he was some kind of gift to women — an assessment that she certainly did not share.
"Draco," Fenrir greeted with a nod. "This is Hermione. She's my accountant." Fenrir didn't let on that there was anything romantic going on between them, something that Hermione was pleased with. She didn't want to be seen as just a piece of ass when she was doing actual important work for Fenrir's business. Besides, she was only doing that work because it was part of a police investigation.
"Oh," Draco said, smirking at her and looking her up and down. "Antonin told me about you. He said that you were smart. Though, I thought you'd be prettier."
Fenrir bristled beside her, perhaps feeling concerned about whatever Antonin had shared about her with Draco. Hermione was not going to be cowed by him, though. She crossed her arms over her chest and returned the up and down look that he gave her. "Antonin told me about you, too. But he said you were a boxer. I expected you to be a bit ..." she trailed off, letting him sweat for a moment, "... stronger. I guess you're going to get your face punched in."
That got the other man — Blaise, presumably — to laugh. His customer had left while they were talking, leaving him to take in the entertainment. "His father would never let him ruin his pretty face," he said, cajoling his friend. "Draco's going to win the bout. He'll wipe the floor with whoever you put up against him."
"Hey!" Draco said, not liking the way that his boxing prowess was being mocked. "I could take any one of you and win."
"Now, Draco, you know it's not polite to hit a woman," Blaise teased, obviously amused. Hermione could tell from their banter that they were obviously good friends.
"And, I'd be careful who you challenge to a fight," Fenrir said. After all, Fenrir had a good six inches on Draco and the reach to match. And, having had her hands on him, Hermione knew that he was exceptionally strong, too.
"Yeah, perhaps you've seen Antonin's nephew?" Hermione added, enjoying fanning the flames of Draco's irritation. "I wouldn't bet on you against him, no matter who your father is."
Sensing that he was being ganged up on, he scoffed at her, perhaps thinking that she was the easiest target. "Oh, what do you know anyway? You're just a dumb pencil pusher," he said, as though it should cause her some great offense.
Hermione couldn't help it and she let out a little giggle. "And a damn good one at that," she said with a smirk, dropping her crossed arms and leaning back against one of the countertops.
Blaise cleared his throat. "Not that I am not enjoying the show," he said cautiously. "But, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Fenrir? Surely you and your very lovely accountant have more important things to do."
Fenrir once again tensed at her side when Blaise complimented her and Hermione bit her lower lip to hide her smile. He'd introduced her in a way that was meant to discourage the boys from thinking that there was anything going on between them, but everything in his body language was doing the exact opposite. She thought it should probably bother her a little bit — after all, he really had no claim over her — but, she found it a bit intoxicating. Maybe Fenrir did want her for more than just stolen snogs and flirty banter. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought that she might really like that.
Only, that was outrageous. He was her target.
"We are here to collect our monthly rent, Zabini," Fenrir said, direct and to the point.
Blaise made a face. "Ah, we are so rarely graced with your presence. Normally we just have to deal with Dean," he said, before standing up and walking to the refrigerator. He opened up the freezer and began moving around different bags of frozen vegetables, until he pulled out a thick looking white envelope. He held it out for the other man to take.
Fenrir opened the envelope and quickly thumbed through the amount, verifying that everything he expected would be there. "Sometimes I've got to remind people who they answer to," Fenrir said, giving the men a toothy grin.
Draco looked like he wanted to say something — presumably how he didn't answer to Fenrir — but Blaise cut him off before he could. "Of course. Smart thinking," he said. "I know that I would never dream of crossing you, but some people might get bold if you aren't careful."
Her boss nodded. "And how is business going for you?" he asked, out of politeness or genuine interest Hermione couldn't be entirely sure.
"Very well," Blaise answered, with a shark-like grin. "The house always wins, you know? But, they always come back to me anyway, thinking that surely this will be the day that they hit it big. Mum is absolutely swimming in it. She's actually away on vacation to Italy right now, visiting my Nonna."
"Good," Fenrir said gruffly. "We should be on our way. Dean will be back in a few weeks for the next month."
Blaise wished them a good afternoon, oozing with superficial charm. Hermione could see how someone could be quite taken with him, if they hadn't seen behind the curtain like she had. He was very good looking, himself, with an easy smile and deep brown eyes.
Draco did not. "Suppose I'll have to be seeing more of you lot, then," he said, scowling and looking at the floor. "Since you are setting my fight."
Fenrir smirked at him. "That's right," he agreed.
"Can't say that I'm looking forward to it," Hermione quipped, a bit meanly. "But I suppose it has to be done." Anger blazed in his grey eyes, but he didn't say anything back.
Hermione and Fenrir made their way out of the house and back to his car. Once they were both inside, Fenrir handed her the envelope. "Here, put that in the glove compartment, Peach," he instructed her.
She couldn't help put peek inside and take a look at all of the bills. Gasping, she did a quick calculation of how much money it was. "You... you make a lot of money," she said, hating the way that she sounded a bit dumb. Of course, she knew that he had a lot of money, but this was... on a whole other level. And, looking at Fenrir, you never would guess.
He smirked. "How else could I afford to pay you so well, Peach?" he asked, with a smirk. "But, the Zabinis are some of my biggest producers, so they pay more. I keep their competition out and they pay me in return. The other businesses... they pay a percentage of their earnings, you see?"
She nodded, thinking that that sounded rather fair to her. "Well, where to next?"