A/N: Thanks for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter. Sorry for the delay, we've been sick. This one hasn't been beta'ed by lanamarymack because I just wanted to post as soon as I was done with it, not to keep you waiting. Hopefully not a terrible idea. Anyways, 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 eighteen and be on the lookout for chapter nineteen soon!
A war was waging inside of Hermione.
On the one hand, she was happier than she could remember being in a long while, now that she and Fenrir had been a little more open with one another. He was as demonstrative as ever, but now that she knew he could make her see stars behind her eyes, it only made her ache for him more than ever. She was pleased to know how much he respected her opinion, looked to her for advice, trusted her implicitly.
The longer she worked alongside the boss, the harder it was for her to continue on with her charade. The more time she spent with him, the less it felt like work.
But, that was the other side of it, wasn't it? Fenrir was still work and she was meant to be pumping him for any piece of information that she could. Reluctantly, she gave her reports to Sirius when she caught him at the pub, but her details were growing more measly and the guilt that sunk into her with each piece of information she willingly gave up was getting harder and harder to bear.
She was torn between two worlds and she was unsure of where she should stand. She didn't want to betray Fenrir, but that was what she was doing. She was the one who'd let herself get caught up in his attention, when she should have just kept her nose down and in the books, not letting herself be wooed by a pair of blue eyes and a crooked smile.
And now, when she helped herself to his horde, as she still called it, there was no denying that his big pile of money was dwindling down to less and less with each passing week. Of course, Fenrir brought her more, but her laundering operation was a well run machine at this point and there was no stopping the wheels of progress. Once they reported their "winnings" from the boxing match, there would hardly be any money left for her to touch.
When that happened, her assignment would undoubtedly be over. And where did that leave her?
Remus had clearly been aware of the growing romance between her and Fenrir. He had hovered in the beginning, skulking around and interrupting them all the time, his watchful green eyes ensuring that a respectful distance was kept between the two of them. It had mortified Hermione that Remus was aware of her growing crush, wondering if he would report it back to Harry and Ron. What would they think of her, pining after a criminal?
But, Sirius must have said something, because Remus eventually backed off, and now he just watched them with a resentful sort of look, one that she couldn't decipher. Fenrir thought Remus was jealous, that he might have some sort of feeling for her, but Hermione wasn't so sure.
Maybe he was jealous, but perhaps it was because he'd been... displaced in the pecking order? Previous to her showing up, he'd been a trusted confidant of Fenrir's. With her there, he was being pushed aside, being sent out on useless errands to give her alone time with the man in charge. Yes, that seemed more likely to her. Remus couldn't possibly want her.
Knowing that Remus was resenting something made something awful twist in Hermione's stomach. She worried that he would do something stupid when they had the upper hand over Fenrir, something to rub it in his face that he'd been tricked. She didn't think she could stand to look at Fenrir if he knew the truth about her, if she knew the truth of what she really was. Of what she'd done to him.
It felt like she was burying her head in the sand, but Hermione just wanted to enjoy what she had with Fenrir, living in the moment and not worry about a million what ifs. She was enjoying being romanced and would let herself get swept up in the fairytale of it all.
Only, that dwindling pile of money seemed to mock her each time she opened the door.
With a sigh, she grabbed a handful of bands, before making her way to her tiny laundry room, tucked into the back of the warehouse. She quickly unbanded the stacks of bills before throwing them into a lingerie bag and spritzing the whole thing with water. Turning the delicate cycle on, she was about to walk to her chair when she heard the door open.
Biting her lower lip, she figured that it must be Fenrir come to see her. It was alright — she welcomed the distraction while the dryer spun endlessly. "Hello," she said, her voice, low and teasing. "You know, I think that the dryer might just be the perfect height for—"
She cut herself off when she turned around, seeing that it was Remus darkening her door, not Fenrir. Her breath left her in a rush and her cheeks flamed hot, once again mortified. Hermione didn't want Remus knowing or thinking of anything that she and Fenrir did together. It just felt odd.
"Expecting someone else?" he asked with a snort — bitter.
"Well, yes," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't think you'll be taking me on top of a dryer anytime soon." She squeaked, wondering what had possessed her to say that out loud. Maybe it was Fenrir's assuredness that Remus wanted her that had planted the idea in her head, that wanted her to nip that longing in the bud in his mind.
Remus shuddered, his head dropping back for a second. "Please don't do that," he begged her, running a hand down his face. "I don't want to think of that animal putting his hands on you."
"Don't talk about him like that," Hermione insisted, knowing that it was dangerous territory. "He's not an animal. He treats me well." It was foolish, but there was still a part of her that wanted Remus to approve of their relationship. It would make it feel more real somehow, like she wasn't just playing at cops and robbers.
"He's an animal, Hermione, don't forget that," he countered, looking at her sharply. "If you only knew some of the things he's done. He's dangerous — a criminal. He has blood on his hands."
"Oh, yeah?" Hermione asked, with a hint of a snarl. "And what does that make you? I know what sort of errands he sends you on, what sort of things that you have done." One of the first things that Remus and Sirius had taught her was to go along with things so that she wouldn't give up her cover, even if that meant crossing the boundary to illegal. She wasn't so naive to think that Remus hadn't done the exact same. And worse.
Remus looked hurt, not liking being called on his own bad behavior, but unable to come up with a counter argument. "That's different," he insisted.
"Is it? Because it's state sanctioned?" she demanded, pressing her hands to her hips.
He crossed the room in two steps and pressed a hand over her mouth hard. "Don't say that here," he hissed, looking back towards the hallway, hoping that it wasn't heard. "Are you trying to get us killed?"
Hermione threw his hand off of her and scowled at him. Her lips tingled from where his calloused hand had been pressed. "Of course not," she answered. "I think it's you. You are always getting in the way and causing suspicions, poking around, warning me off of Fenrir, when you have no good reason to. Fenrir said it's because you are jealous."
The accusation seemed to suck all of the air right out of the room and Remus didn't say anything, his mouth opening and closing while he looked to find the words.
"I think you are jealous, but just because you aren't number one any more," she said, jutting her chin up in the air proudly. "Fenrir doesn't come to you so often anymore? He prefers my ear to yours. I'm passing on valuable information, now, not you. And I got his trust in a matter of weeks, while you've been undercover for who knows how long."
A bit of fury lit in Remus's eyes, making them appear gold. "I don't know that that is something you want to brag about," he insisted. "It wouldn't work in any other context but this."
She crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't want to be undercover, but in this particular scenario, it seemed like she was thriving. "This is the only context that matters," she argued back. There was no potential case she was working in the future. Once she was done here, she was sure that she'd never be asked to go undercover again.
"Don't forget yourself, Hermione," Remus insisted, taking another step closer to her, until there was only a sliver of air in between them. He leaned in so that he could whisper in her ear, the feel of his breath on her skin making her shiver. "Just remember the life that you have to go back to when this is finished. I wouldn't want you to do anything that you would regret."
"Why don't you leave the regrets to me?" she said, unwilling to back down, despite the dangerous edge to their conversation. While she knew that Remus would never hurt her, she wasn't sure what sort of professional ramifications could come out of this mess. The fear made her belly twist. "I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions."
"Oh, I think you've really enjoyed playing at the big girl," he said, a sardonic grin on his face. "I think you've enjoyed flitting around here, thinking you are a mafiosa, but at the end of the day, you are still Hermione Granger. You'll walk away from this and go back to your spreadsheets and your numbers and only when you are in the harsh glare of those fluorescent lights will you see what you've done for what it really is."
She swallowed, hating how right he was. This thing with Fenrir was not sustainable, it was not long term. It had an expiration date that she was hurtling towards whether she wanted to or not. "And what is it that I've done?" she asked.
"Whored yourself out to a criminal who would sooner kill you than touch you if he knew the truth," Remus said, gritting his teeth.
Hermione gasped and pressed her arms against his chest, shoving him away from her. She wanted to slap him across the face for what he'd said, but she wouldn't, not when she knew that it would create too many questions. "How dare you?" she demanded.
The man had the decency to look ashamed of himself, but he made no moves to apologize. He looked at her with eyes full of melancholy, all of his previous ire vanished and left with self-pity.
She took a step closer to him and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I'm doing what I need to do to end this case," she insisted, even though she knew it wasn't the truth. "And, if anyone remembers my work on this case, it will be because I've provided more information about Tom Riddle's hierarchy than anyone else has been able to gather to date. So maybe remember that, next time you come in here threatening me."
Then, she needed to get out of the little room as quickly as she could, before she said something else. It was so strange. Prior to this, she had gotten on great with Remus. She felt that they were actually quite similar and she enjoyed talking to him if some of them got together for drinks after work, but now they were like oil and water with one another. She never would have expected him to begrudge someone else's success.
Her feet carried her down the halls without thinking, but in the end, there is only one place in this entire warehouse that she would have gone. Pleased, she finds Fenrir at his desk, counting a new pile of bills that she will be tasked with legitimizing. Waltzing in, she finds a seat on the large man's lap, distracting him from his work with a coquettish smile.
"Oh, sorry, were you busy?" she asked, hiding her smirk on the side of his neck. Unable to help herself, she pressed her lips against the warm skin, delighting in feeling him melt under her touch.
"Not with anything so important that I don't have time for you, Peach," he said, indulgently, his fingers finding their way into her hair. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"I want you to send Remus away," she said, petulantly. She felt like a bratty child, always having to get her way.
Only, she felt Fenrir immediately stiffen hearing her words and it was too late. Hermione should have known better than to be so capricious with her words. Remus was right. She couldn't forget who Fenrir was and what he was capable of.
"Oh?" he asked, taking a deep breath to keep his cool. His fingers tightened in her hair. "Did he do something to you?"
She forced herself to laugh, remembering that Fenrir thought Remus was interested in her. "No, it's just... I wanted to get some time alone with you," she explained, toying with one of the buttons on Fenrir's shirt. "And Remus is... a terrible cock block. He always seems to interrupt us at the most inopportune moments."
Fenrir rewarded her with one of those feral smiles that he reserved only for her. "I could send him off on a job," he mused, sounding much too pleased with the idea. "One that would take him all night."
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Unable to find the words, she nodded in agreement with that plan, wondering what they could get up to.
"Or..." he trailed off.
"Or?" she asked, resisting the urge to pout. It rather sounded like she wasn't going to get her night alone with Fenrir, free of Remus's judging looks and words, like she wanted.
"Or I could take you out of the warehouse for the rest of the day," he suggested. "In fact, I've been meaning to buy you something to wear for the boxing match. I could take you shopping."
Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly offended at the suggestion. "You really don't think I have something suitable to wear?" she asked.
"Don't forget, I've seen your closet now," his rumbling voice answered. "Don't get me wrong, you have a lot of things that I'd love to see you in, but for the boxing, I know that you can do better."
She flushed a pretty pink, remembering his positive response to her pajamas — one of her only pieces of clothes from her "real" life. "Oh, you just want to show me off like some trophy, huh?" she asked, jutting her chin up in the air.
"I am sure by the end of the night, I want every man to be jealous that it's me that gets to take you home," he said, giving her a little wink.
"You are so possessive of what's yours," she countered. Even though she didn't think she'd be interested in a guy who was so possessive, she couldn't deny the small thrill she felt about saying she belonged to Fenrir. "I would think that you'd want me covered up from head to toe... locked away in a nunnery somewhere."
He laughed again. "They can look all they want," he said.
"More like leer," she interrupted.
"But they can't touch. And they most certainly don't get to know what you look like underneath the pretty packaging," he whispered, his fingers slipping underneath the soft cotton of her t-shirt. The tips of his fingers slid along the skin of her lower back, sending shivers racing up and down her spine.
"I suppose they will have to be content with their imagination, then," Hermione said, indulgently, half breathless. But then, she snapped back to reality, thinking about who it was who'd be lusting after her. "Ugh. Maybe I should cover up from head to toe. I don't really want a Malfoy to be thinking about me that way. It's not as flattering as you'd think."
"Don't worry. They wouldn't dream of touching you," Fenrir promised her fiercely. "You know if anyone gives you any trouble, you could come to me?" he asked, suddenly very serious.
Hermione pauses and thinks of Remus again. She didn't want Fenrir to jump to any of the wrong conclusions. "Fenrir," she sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder once again, finding it rather sweet, if not a bit worrisome. "If I have any issues, of course I would let you know. But I am very capable as well. I can handle myself pretty well."
"Okay," he said, ready to trust her. "Let's get you out of here then. Let's find some pretty trimmings for my trophy girlfriend."
She tried not to laugh, biting her lower lip. "Girlfriend?" she asked. This was the first time that he'd put the word to whatever this flirtation between them was. She stood up from her perch on his lap and offered a hand to him.
Once her hand was safely engulfed in his larger one, she let Fenrir guide her out of the office and out of the warehouse. "Come on, don't tell me you are going to balk at a label now?" he asked, completely self confident with himself and his desires.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders, buoyed by the pleasant feeling of being Fenrir's girlfriend. "I'm not balking," she insisted. "I just didn't realize that it was official."
If only that pleasant feeling could last forever. But, no matter how much she wanted it to be, deep down, she knew that there was no way they could ever be official.