The Meeting
by Ydream08
Chapter 8
It was yet another work day, and Corban Yaxley sat silently in the backseat of the car that was taking him to central Glasgow for his commute. A tedious, bland day awaited him.
Indeed, Corban did not expect any surprises. Let alone one so early in the morning.
"Sir, I don't want to overstep, but I'm sure you'll find an appropriate woman for marriage," said Dunmore.
Corban's eyes immediately shot to the rearview mirror.
Dunmore was driving, and he evaded meeting his eyes.
That showed Dunmore knew how preposterous he sounded.
Undecided between keeping his silence or retorting back, heat rose around his neck and Corban had to look away. Fury that clawed at his throat wanted to be unleashed but Corban should be better than that.
He was tight lipped for the rest of the journey, and thankfully Dunmore followed suit.
They eventually stopped. Corban was smoothly getting out of the backseat while Dunmore held open the door.
"I have a cousin…" Dunmore blurted out.
Corban scoffed. Taking the door away from Dunmore, he slammed it shut so forcefully that Dunmore cringed.
To Corban's amazement, the man pressed, "A magical cousin. She is a witch. She is thirty-six years of age. Single. A baker. Hufflepuff."
Unclenching his fists, cracking his neck, fixing his hair… Corban even counted to ten… all the oldest tricks to maintain his boiling anger. If he opened his mouth… Rowena knew he was no saint.
Dunmore shifted, uncomfortable, and added, "She is from my father's side."
And just like that Corban's anger eased like the stove under it was put out.
Dunmore's father was a pureblood, hence his cousin on that side would most likely be pureblooded. As a Squib himself, Dunmore apparently put abundant time to this idea of his.
With a sigh, Corban decided on saying, "It is insulting to insinuate that I'd care."
While thinking of the things he wished to yell at Dunmore, going along with his conversation had not been the plan.
Dunmore coughed. For once, he seemed unsure to continue but did anyway to the chagrin of both parties. "I had assumed you overlooked it because Ms Hermione Granger is Ms Hermione Granger." The awe in Dunmore's voice as he said her name was glaringly obvious.
Corban Yaxley should have known better, in retrospect.
Maybe Dunmore had asked around… or had known who she was the first time he saw her. With Dunmore's young girl, Clare, getting her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, the magic side of his ancestry must have been a hot topic so was the current matters in the wizarding world.
And Dunmore had only seen Hermione Granger that one time. The kiss in the end must have raised the real questions, but it had been enough.
Rowena curse it, but had Corban married Hermione as he'd have liked, there would be more questions…more inquiries…more prodding. Not just from his friend.
War Heroine Hermione Granger, shockingly married to convicted Death-Eater Corban Yaxley.
A probable headline. Perhaps something similar had popped into Hermione's head as well. Made her hesitate. Made her doubt. Made her ask something less from him.
No marriage. No commitment.
Had she gotten it her way, nobody would even know they were seeing each other. Indeed, perhaps she had been ashamed.
Even according to Dunmore, Corban was not appropriate for Ms Hermione Granger.
Corban forced his trembling hands into fists. There was no merit in thinking of why's or what-if's.
In that small intimate caffe, dressed in her casual Muggle wear, Hermione had awaited him to have an honest conversation. She had told him the final conclusion of all that she had apparently debated in that brilliant mind of hers. She wanted to be with him. No, that wasn't it— she wanted him. She desired him. She lusted after him.
Recalling her blush and the hazy look to her eyes, his male pride swelled in finding the young woman practically begging him.
Just then she had been so…ready. His chance had been there like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. Corban shook his head. It wasn't a fair comparison. Hermione Granger was not ripe, not as she wished to be.
It had been physically painful to restrain himself. Painful to look her all over slowly and see the young woman vulnerable in her confession, waiting for an answer from him; willing to leave herself in his care in a way that he should not accept.
Corban Yaxley was a man of principle. He knew right from wrong. Honorable from dishonorable. Suitable from unsuitable.
He had been wrong to pursue her. Professor Granger had not been suitable for him. If only his body could agree to his mind.
Corban Yaxley shook his head, and decided to overlook this absurd morning all together.
"Dunmore, some months ago, you mentioned you could teach me how to use this… vehicle." Corban enticingly showed the Mercedes car.
Dunmore crossed his eyebrows. "Yes, Mr Yaxley."
"Are you free this evening for me to take you up on that offer?"
His old friend was silent a beat longer. "Do you want to drive by yourself so you don't hear me talk about Ms Granger?"
It was the first time Corban smiled. "I'm glad we agreed."
Tomorrow's meeting was to be final. There would be voting and a decision.
Hermione would not contribute at all. She was supposed to attend, and thank the Board of Governors upon their decision. For the better or the worse. She would be obliged to heed their decision.
Knowing bloody well that her duty tomorrow was simply to look presentable and bow her head, Hermione nearly screamed at herself what the heck was wrong with her. Why could she not choose a bloody outfit for the bloody meeting that was full of bloody prejudiced arseholes!
She threw the hanger on the bed, and winced at all the wrong angles the attached dress folded over. It would crease if she did not pick it up. Did it matter? Hermione could charm the heaps of clothes piled on her bed. All would be ironed, folded and placed back inside her wardrobe.
Did it matter, indeed. She should wear black pants and a white button-up shirt tomorrow. Low-effort. The meeting didn't deserve more. Not when it would most certainly humiliate her, squash her passion and ask her to be something she was not.
Hermione closed her eyes, acutely aware the line of her thoughts were jumbled up. She didn't make sense even in her head.
All because she got rejected three days ago.
No, was the one word she did not want to hear. Not again. Not so soon.
Logically speaking, Hermione was aware a disapproval from the meeting with the Board of Governors did not equate to being rejected romantically by Corban Yaxley.
Hermione had promised she would respect any decision he'd make, but a big part of her had believed he would take a chance with her. What was there to not jump at it? He could have respected her enough while they took things slow. Was he really waiting for marriage to have sex even?
She was smart. Brightest witch of her age, even. Handpicked to become a professor. She was attractive, fit and sexy. She was young.
She was Hermione Granger, for Godric's sake!
He should have been the one begging her.
"I understand this is your rejection of my marriage proposal," he had drawled. "I was clear with my intentions with you, as you are now with yours: I would like to marry, and you do not. I believe there is nothing else to say. Good day, Professor Granger."
Why had it been so bloody black and white with the man!
The man had been stoic and brutal. Quickly he had worn his jacket and hat, and walked out of the caffe.
Hermione had sat there dumbstruck for half an hour.
Thinking back on it, she should not give a flying fuck. They had only once gone out on a date. They had only shared one bloody kiss. She hadn't known the man for more than two weeks.
Mr Yaxley was out of his mind for believing she'd accept any marriage proposal based on that.
Ronald's nuptials flashed in her mind's eye. Her childhood best friend had agreed on a marriage with a one-night stand. For a baby he had not intended to make. Apparently, life happened.
Her conversations with Corban had felt like more than that. The two of them were genuine. There was something there. Chemistry, attraction, emotion… whatever it was. They had deserved a chance. Of course they did! Not marriage, but a bloody chance.
Godric curse the man for being convinced otherwise.
Would he have accepted to see each other had Hermione said she would consider marrying him? It wouldn't have been like dating, but…
This was pointless. She didn't want to marry. End of discussion.
Defeated, Hermione reached for her wand and charmed her clothes off her bed. She wanted to sleep and not wake-up tomorrow.
That sounded too depressing.
She wanted to wake-up in the afternoon. Couldn't Professor McGonagall relay the outcome of the meeting to her later in the day?
Nope. As an adult, she was responsible to get her arse out there tomorrow.
Her heart feeling heavy and chest tight, Hermione waited for sleep. Waited a good long while.
Corban knew he would not hear the end of it had he refused to come to this last meeting. Lucius was his closest friend, but the man was a pain in the arse. The bastard knew there could be only one reason for Corban to miss this meeting.
Even with Hogwarts yet kilometres ahead, the prospect of setting eyes on Hermione Granger built a deep dread in Corban Yaxley.
Rowena must have taken a mercy on him, because accompanying Lucius in this brisk walk from Hogsmead was so far uneventful as his old friend dragged on about the shite weather here in the Highlands in the middle of february. It was an effort to keep himself from saying, "What did you expect?"
Instead, he decided on a mild joke, "You sound like you regret giving Narcissa Black that chateau in France."
Lucius stiffened. That hadn't been an asset he had willingly agreed to give away.
"I could never move to France, my business is here. And the weather is acceptably mild in Wiltshire."
"I mentioned that," Corban said exasperatedly. The main entrance was a couple of steps ahead, quickly they entered.
"Are you ready?" Lucius asked, an amused glint in his eyes.
Corban scanned the corridors to take the right turn, and when he glanced back at his friend, Lucius' smirk had deepened into a grin.
And the reason for it caught his eyes immediately.
Behind Lucius' shiny silver head, stomping her way down to them, came the famed Hermione Granger. The one and only.
"You bastard," Corban hissed, feeling his cheeks redden as he desperately drunk the sight of her.
She did not wear any robes, not even a dress. Her black loose pants billowed at each quick step. On top, a white satin button up shirt was tucked inside the high waist of her pants, and more than necessary buttons from the top were open to showcase multiple silver necklaces in various designs.
Professor Granger halted close enough that her perfume sizzled deep in his nose. The scent was as intoxicating as it was inevitable. Corban Yaxley breathed it again involuntarily, and this time, savoured it. And the next, too.
"Professor Granger," purred Lucius Malfoy, enjoying himself too much at Corban's expense.
There remained no choice but to meet Professor Granger's eyes.
Corban had been correct to dread this moment.
Looking at her stern brown eyes was like a hard punch in his gut. A white pain flashed and persisting nausea claimed its place.
"Mr Malfoy you are expected in the meeting," Professor Granger stated without glancing at the man. "Mr Yaxley, Headmistress McGonagall has requested your absence during the voting process, but you're welcome to join for the revelation."
A part of him clawed to let out his displeasure, show dear old McGonagall what it meant to undermine him like this (the witch had not bother to come tell this herself even!) but Corban Yaxley warred within himself a beat too long.
And the next thing that came out of Professor Granger's pretty mouth was unacceptable. Outrageous. Torturous.
"In the meantime, the Headmistress asked me to keep you company. So, shall we?"
Hiiii,
Of course I'm back here too! I can't believe I'm choosing the path of slow-burn. It definitely pains me but the story flows enjoyable. Hahaha. Hope you've liked it too!
Much love. Take care.
Ydream08