A/N: Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thank you to lanamarymack as usual for alpha/beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter twenty-one and be on the lookout for chapter twenty-two soon!
The boxing match had gone spectacularly well. Much better than anything in Antonin's wildest dreams. Ilya's performance had certainly gotten tongues wagging and there was now talk of him going professional after his dominant win against a seasoned fighter like Marcus Flint. Malfoy would certainly fight in other matches. As loathe as she was to admit, he was a fair fighter, even though he had not yet seen a fight in which he was not guaranteed to win.
But, most importantly of all, their little boxing match had pulled in so much money that Antonin wanted to make it a regular thing. Of course he did, easy money was easy money.
In addition, Antonin had also decided that all the hard work from the boxing match deserved to be rewarded. A party was quickly organized, to be held the following week. Somehow, the Slippery Serpent had been selected as the perfect locale for such an event. Hermione had rolled her eyes when Fenrir had told her, but she was secretly looking forward to it.
To make up for the change of plans before the boxing match, Fenrir promised to pick Hermione up and take her to the party — as his official date. There would be no whispers behind her back at this party about the status of their relationship.
Fenrir arrived while she was still in the process of getting ready, wrapped in a sensible cotton bathrobe. The large man oozed into her little bed room and watched her get dressed, keeping his hands mostly to himself. He couldn't help but paw at the tie holding her robe shut, only to groan when he saw that she already wore her undergarments underneath.
"It wouldn't make sense to undo the progress you've already made," he whispered, fingers splayed at her waist, as she stood between his spread legs.
Hermione, running her fingers through his hair, could only sigh in disappointment, knowing that this was true. She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "I suppose Antonin would consider it a slight if we did not show up for his party?" she asked. Although she knew it would be a good time, she couldn't help but think it would be a better time, just her and Fenrir.
"Yes, and that prick can hold a grudge," Fenrir confirmed, before slapping her gently on the arse. "Go on, then, finish getting dressed so we can leave."
This time, she did not wear the slinky, sexy black dress that she'd worn to the boxing match, opting for a more sensible selection of jeans and a fancy top. The way that Fenrir looked at her assured Hermione that it would be more than suitable for the evening.
While she finished her hair and make up, they helped themselves to a glass of wine from her refrigerator. "Can't remember the last time I had wine," Fenrir told her, clearly amused. The wine glass looked a bit silly in his hand, if she were honest.
"More of a rum drinker yourself?" she teased. Though she didn't think of herself as much of a hard liquor drinker, she'd been stealing sips out of his glass long enough that she could understand the appeal of the strong alcohol. The first drink was all bite, but it mellowed into something pleasant and intoxicating the longer she went on.
Fenrir smirked at her, but took a drink of the wine nonetheless. "You know me too well, Peach," he said, a certain sort of fondness in his blue eyes.
When their pregame was finished, Fenrir escorted her down to his car, even helping her into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her, before making the short drive to the Slippery Serpent. "You are acting like such a gentleman, I don't know what to do with you," she said, biting her lower lip.
"It's all a part of the romance that I've been sorely lacking in," he told her. "I've been remiss."
Hermione could not fight off a smile. She stopped herself from ribbing him about using a big word. "Oh, and a... strip club is part of the romance is it?" she asked, unable to stop herself. She spent enough time at Scabior's questionable establishment, it wouldn't exactly be the sort of place she would choose herself. But, she knew that Fenrir didn't have much of a choice in the locale, so she wouldn't mention it. She didn't want Fenrir to feel inadequate about it.
"And here I thought that you didn't mind mixing work and pleasure," he said, his hand dropping to her knee.
God, Hermione had never wished more that she was wearing a dress. She could just part her legs, and...
"Only where you are involved, I swear," she said, looking at him seriously. It was the truth after all. She never would have gone after someone she worked with in her other life — the life that she was pretending didn't exist at the moment. It was too messy, too dangerous to consider, but once again, Fenrir had her throwing caution to the wind.
Before they could talk more, they had arrived and there was no putting off joining the others. Hermione walked into the bar on Fenrir's arm and she kept her head up in the air, proud to be at his side. The club was easily the busiest she'd ever seen it and she reminded herself that she usually came in for the morning shift... not exactly the most desirable time to watch a stripper (but to each their own).
The dark room was lit up by flashes of neon and the colored lights that highlighted the dancers up on the stage. Scabior had practically every girl on his payroll there and from the looks of it, they were certainly raking in the dough. The music was loud — Hermione could practically feel the bass pounding in her bones.
"I'll go get us drinks," Fenrir said, his lips pressed up against her ear.
Hermione nodded, waving him off, surprised by how she didn't feel even slightly out of place here. It was a complete one eighty to the time that they'd gone out for Charlie's birthday. For once, she wished that Harry and Ron could see her now. They wouldn't think that she was such a prude or a spoil sport now, would they?
"Hermione!" she heard the familiar voice of Daphne Greengrass squeal when she saw her. "Thank god you are here!"
"Nice to see you, too, Daph," Hermione greeted the pretty blonde. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a tight dress covered in pink hearts. "It's been too long."
"It really has," Daphne agreed, taking a sip of a concoction that was practically glowing from an errant black light. "But, now that you are here, you can help me talk some sense into Astoria." Daphne reached for her hand and began pulling her through the crowd, towards the back booth.
Hermione bit her lip, looking over her shoulder to where Fenrir was waiting at the bar. He was laughing with Scabior while the barkeeper made another of the glowing concoctions. She was pleased to note that his eyes barely even strayed to the nearly naked woman on the stage next to them. Deciding that the bar was small enough that he'd find her when he was done, she walked with Daphne to the back of the bar.
The music was less intense back here and the lighting not so garish. They stopped in front of one of the largest booths, where they found Astoria pressed up tightly with Draco Malfoy, his arm hung around her shoulders. Hermione scoffed, seeing the man who'd been such an annoyance to her over the last few weeks, lapping up the attention, with his shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest.
At least he still had the remnants of a shiner on the left side of his face, where Rabastan had managed to connect a pretty solid punch. Malfoy's fair colored skin was still colored an odd purple, though the edges were already going yellow. He'd probably have it for another week or too.
Hermione slid into the opposite side of the booth. "Malfoy," she greeted him with half a smirk. "How's the face?"
"Granger," he answered, already slurring his words. "At least my face will go back to its usual facade. You'll have to deal with that mug for the rest of your life."
She laughed at the lame attempt at an insult. "I'm sure there will be other people who are dying to give you a punch, Malfoy," she countered, knowing that she had the advantage of not having drank as much as him. "Blaise here?"
"Somewhere," Malfoy answered. "He's getting a private dance." He wagged his eyebrows in an exaggerated way.
Hermione scoffed, though she did think that rather sounded like something that Blaise would do.
"Hermione!" Daphne whined. "I didn't bring you back here for small talk. Make Astoria see reason!" She waved her hand towards her little sister, who currently had her hand inside Malfoy's shirt and her head resting on his shoulder.
"I'm not really seeing the problem," Hermione said. "Unless... Scabior didn't get her to take him up on his offer of a job?"
"No!" Daphne, Astoria and Malfoy all said in unison.
"She's... she's carrying on with Malfoy!" Daphne said, sounding frustrated and exasperated.
"Oh," Hermione said, though she didn't really see the problem. Of course, she knew that Daphne was very protective of her sister, but Astoria was a big girl who could look after herself. "Let the girl have a little bit of fun, Daph. She'll set Malfoy straight if he puts a toe out of line."
"But...but... it's Malfoy!" Daphne said, sounding completely exasperated.
Hermione smirked at him. "Look at it this way, Daphne," she teased. "Maybe if he gets laid he won't be such a colossal pain in the arse."
Malfoy waffled, clearly wanting to retort that he did get laid, but not wanting Astoria to think he thought any less of her. He narrowed his grey eyes at her. "I could say the same about you, Granger," he answered. "You are acting way less uptight. Maybe getting laid did you some good."
She stared at him for half a moment. Wasn't he the one who suggested that she was a tart in the first place? But then, she dissolved into a fit of giggles. "It has," she agreed. "But, I promise that the only reason I'm less uptight is knowing that I won't have to put up with your nonsense now that the match is over."
"Right, I suppose you'll be moving on soon enough," he countered, leaning back in the booth. "Though, I guess... if I had to say... you were alright to deal with on the whole boxing match thing. Certainly paid well enough. Did you get your cut?"
"Fenrir and I are still finishing up the accounting, but I have no concerns that I will be taken care of," she said, feeling a bit touched that Malfoy almost admitted to thinking that she wasn't actually so bad after all.
A part of her wondered if it was odd how little she seemed to care about getting her fair cut of the money. She and Fenrir had never discussed her "salary", but he continued to pay her in large stacks of bills on time every month. Hopefully, he didn't think of it as a red flag and more as a sign of just how much she trusted him. Nevermind that she was still getting her normal salary from her real job all this time.
The four of them continued to laugh and talk for a few more minutes, before Fenrir finally appeared at her table, passing her the unusual mixed drink and keeping a neat rum for himself. "There you are, Peach," he said with a grin. "I hope you don't mind if you let me borrow you for a few minutes. It's only fair that we pay our respects to Antonin."
Hermione agreed, slipping out of the booth and grabbing onto Fenrir's hand so he could lead her through the giddy crowd. It was good to remember that even though they were friendly with Antonin at this point, he was still far ahead of them in the pecking order and a certain amount of deference was required.
Antonin was even further back, in one of the private rooms, though he had half a dozen people in there with him. Ilya was sandwiched between two of the dancing girls, barely able to focus on anything but their impressive busts. Antonin, likewise, had his arm around the shoulders of another girl, keeping her tight up against his side.
The Russian was drunk, but not overly so. He was clearly enjoying himself. But, his smile lit up when he saw them enter the room. "Fenrir, Hermione," he greeted them, arms spread wide. "You finally show up."
Fenrir chuckled and slipped into the garish pink seat next to Antonin. "Looks like you didn't need us to start the party," he said, before taking a healthy sip of his drink.
Hermione slipped into the seat on the other side of Fenrir, wanting to keep herself as close to him as possible. She held up her cocktail to toast the other man. "Here's to you, Antonin," she said with a grin on her face. "You pulled off an amazing event."
Antonin was only too happy to drink to that, finishing what was left in his glass, before sending the woman he was with off to get them a bottle of champagne. If she was upset about being ordered around, she didn't show it, perhaps too focused on the amazing tip that she was sure to get at the end of the night.
"I couldn't have done it without each of you," he said, all humility for a moment. "Sometimes I need clearer heads to help me see the bigger picture."
She knew that he meant all their discussions in the lead up about how to run the match in a way that would attract as little regulator interest as possible, even if it wasn't always the easiest way to do things. And, so far, they hadn't heard a single peep about the winnings that they had collected.
The trio of them chatted until Hermione and Fenrir's drinks were empty. Fenrir stalked off in the direction of the bar to get them a refresher, leaving her alone with Antonin once again. Hermione wasn't worried — Antonin was having such a good time at the party, she hardly thought that anything could ruin his good mood.
"You know, you've certainly caught some eyes in your short time with us," he said, leaning towards her.
She blushed, looking at the door that Fenrir had walked out of only just moments before. "I am... lucky to be working with Fenrir," she said, hoping that she wasn't saying too much.
Antonin laughed once again. "Of course, Fenrir. How could he manage to keep his hands off of you, having you with him all the time. He always liked the mouthy ones," he said, before shaking his head. "But, I did mean in less of an amorous way, though no less appreciative."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, completely unsure of what he was trying to say. Was this a clumsy attempt at him telling her that he appreciated her?
"I'm really not supposed to tell you so soon, but, fuck it, I'm drunk and it's my party and I can do whatever the fuck I want," he said, leaning back into the booth. "Riddle has taken an interest and he wants to meet with you."
"Riddle?" Hermione squeaked, feeling her heart hammer away. "Like... Tom Riddle? That Riddle?"
"The very same," he answered, amused by how flustered she had become.
"I can't... I can't meet with him," she said, wondering how she'd managed to climb the ladder so quickly. All the police time, all the undercover officers that they had tried to infiltrate his operation, and somehow it was her that he was interested in? This was something that she simply wasn't prepared for.
"Why not?" he asked. "It's not like you haven't already met him."
That made Hermione's blood run cold. "I have?" she asked, trying to think of everyone that she knew. Surely Voldemort would have made an impression on her.
"Yeah, Tom?" Antonin repeated, swearing under his breath in Russian. "He met you outside the boxing match. He offered to wait for you."
The man from the week before sprang to her mind. He had been so... unassuming that she hadn't thought anything of him at all. He'd been handsome, yes, but otherwise rather ordinary. She racked her brain, trying to remember every word that she said to him. Had she let anything slip that would explain his newfound interest in her.
"Relax," he said, unphased. "It's a big honor to meet with him. To have him ask to meet with you is an even bigger honor. I'm proud of you, kid."
Somehow, that did not make her feel any better.
Before they could talk about it anymore, Fenrir was returning with a bottle of champagne in each hand. He sat back next to her and passed the open one to Antonin. Hermione immediately hugged her body against Fenrir, hoping for some sort of protection.
"Wow, it seems like absolutely everyone is here tonight," she whispered into his ear. "But, I didn't see Remus. I was thinking about thanking him for pulling me into the crazy job. Have you seen him?"
Fenrir shook his head. "He said he had something to take care of tonight," he said, unconcerned. "I didn't ask. Apparently he's got some ex and custody issues. I figure it's kinder not to bring it up."
"Oh," Hermione said, knowing that she needed to talk to Remus as soon as possible to explain this sudden development. She couldn't just talk to Tom Riddle without being prepared. That would be disastrous on several levels. "Well, I am sure I will see him around."
"That's business for another day," Antonin said. "Now, drink up so we can party!" he ordered.
Fenrir took the champagne bottle from him and took a swig of it himself, before holding it up to Hermione's lips. She drank as much as she could, before the liquid was fizzing up and she couldn't swallow anymore. The three of them laughed at the mess that it made, without a care in the world.
Her stomach a mess of knots, Hermione reminded herself that she couldn't do anything about it now. Tonight, she would enjoy herself, dancing the night away in Fenrir's arms. Tomorrow... tomorrow she would find Remus.