The wonderful Saturday would be coming to a close with the sun setting slowly over the Burrow. After some time in the garden, and as per the original request, Benjamin had established himself over the Anglia with an enthusiastic Arthur standing idly beside him.
"I dunno, Arthur," Benjamin groaned out while wiping the backside of an oily hand on his forehead. "She's in piss poor shape, and she's definitely been sitting too long."
"Ahhh," replied Arthur for the seventy-seventh time in the past two hours. "Where does that leave us, then?"
Benjamin laughed. "Us? What'd ya mean 'us'? Arthur, you need a new car if you're wanting to drive. Something a bit more worth our time and your money to fix."
Inside, Molly acquired the help of Hermione and Ginny to prepare dinner and set the table. Ron and Harry were in the living room, lounging around on the furniture. There were multiple conversations buzzing around the Burrow at once. Hermione had taken to glancing out towards the garage where Benjamin had been fiddling with the Weasley's car.
An old radio sat on the fireplace mantle where it had gathered dust since the war. Ron grunted as he stood up from his seat to turn it on. A simple, old tune from before their time could be heard in the kitchen. Molly would hum here and there as she finished up some vegetables over the stove.
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed from the kitchen. "Tell your father and Benjamin that supper is nearly ready!"
Ron sighed and muttered, "I just sat back down." Harry gave him a chuckle, and in return received a quick jab to the arm as Ron walked by. The high-setting July sunset burned Ron's eyes and cast a fiery aura on his red hair.
"Mum says supper's 'bout ready, you two."
"Hey, thanks, Ron," Benjamin replied.
Ron looked into the dirty engine bay that he had cleared of tall grass and weeds that early afternoon. "So, how goes it? Not well, I'd wager."
Benjamin closed the rusty, bent hood of the Ford Anglia. "You'd be 'bout right. I've been telling your dad that, with the shape this thing is in, there's gonna be more money and labor put into it than it may be worth."
Ron laughed, "Blimey, dad," he slapped a hand down hard on his father's shoulder, "I could've told you that by the start of my second year of school."
"Yes, well, Benjamin has suggested we sell it as-is. You mentioned knowing a Muggle who may be interested?" Benjamin nodded, lips pursed and face perspiring. "Ahh, see! Good man. We'll have another enchanted car in no time, Ron."
"Brilliant," Ron said sarcastically.
"I'll need to wash up before I eat," said Benjamin, arms extended as to show off the messes of his labor. It was not scholarly knowledge to know that Mrs. Weasley would not let him near the food or table being as grungy as he was. He made for the house.
As he approached, the sounds of socialization and the scents of a home cooked meal engulfed his senses.
"Oh, Benjamin, you'd best be on your way to the shower!" Molly hollered at the first sight of him walking through her kitchen, covered in dirt and grease and 'who knows what else'. He hadn't stopped to glance at Hermione - who was still in the kitchen - but she stocked in her tracks as soon as he entered the home. His wheatish complexion seemed to shadow over all the fairer faces around, but they did not compare to his father's rich, dusky tones.
Benjamin and his father could be picked easily out of dozens. She had been able to do so, once. The surname Hendrix was known around the castle, but Hermione was a young woman of academics; this is where Elisha and, surprisingly, Benjamin seemed to excel early on in their Hogwarts schooling years. Based solely on the rumors around the castle of their educational exploits, she developed a one-sided crush to the one closer to her age. That would have been Benjamin.
This crush would only last a few weeks, however, after he was pointed out (by her female classmates) sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, a few spaces away from Draco Malfoy - who had taken it upon himself to start calling her a 'Mudblood'. He was handsome, of course, but it was always what was inside that was most important to Hermione. Without ever getting to know him, she simply put her crush aside and continued to focus on her studies; something that came rather easy.
Benjamin grabbed his worn, leather rucksack before heading upstairs to what used to be the twins' bathroom. He hopped into the shower, hoping to make it quick. The hot water filled the bathroom with steam and he had to wipe the foggy mirror to catch a glimpse of himself. The once prickly hairs on his upper lips, chin, and cheeks had begun to turn soft as it had grown the past few weeks. He continued with his normal routine and dressed himself into some darker, blue jeans (unstained) and a clean white shirt with a dark-blue, plaid button up. He did not forget deodorant and a splash of cologne. His combed back, dark hair was still a bit damp and carried a prominent shine.
He could hear "Ain't Misbehavin'" by Fats Waller through the crackling static of the radio as he bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Harry and Ginny were the only two at the table, seated next to the other. Ben planted his bottom in an empty chair at the opposite end of the table. A short time later, Ron and Arthur entered from outside, stuck in conversation as they found seats next to each other.
Hermione and Molly were putting full plates in front of each body in a seat, Harry and Benjamin being first as special guests. Molly served Harry as Hermione happily placed a full plate in front of Benjamin, who looked into her eyes as he thanked her in his unique accent.
After everyone was seated and plated, Molly and Hermione sat down with their own plates. All the men thanked the women for their hard work to provide them with the nutrients to replenish the day's activities and chores. A few conversations sparked here and there as everyone dug into the delicious meal before them, offering compliments to each of the cooks.
Such a scene reminded Benjamin of his own family.
"So, Ben, can I call you Ben?" Harry asked politely. Ben nodded and Harry continued. "So, Ben, you work on a farm, yeah? How's that? D'you enjoy it?" Harry shoved a large potato wedge into his mouth.
Benjamin responded as he used both hands to tear into the cooked chicken. "No, I haven't actually worked the farm since I left school. I run the stall here and there just to help my parents. I mostly get by on cooking for The Leaky Cauldron, and I've been known around that area of London to do other things to make end's meet."
"Like what?" Ron curiously inquired.
"Just... It depends. I fixed up a few cars and re-landscaped a couple garden beds here and there, as well. I know you can't tell by the nose but I've been known to get into the ring for a buck, too."
"You're talking about that Muggle sport, boxing, yeah?" Ronald continued.
"Fighting?" Hermione interrogated, sounding a bit gutted.
"Yes, I've been fighting since I was a kid so I don't know how old I was when I started. Then, I was fifteen when I joined my first gym. I left two years later, before school ended." He was looking mostly at Ron as he said this. "I graduated, left home, and lost my way. So I joined the gym again, got into a pretty wasteful profession. I wandered into the pub one night after a fight, busted up a bit and Tom offered me a job. He put me in the back so I didn't scare customers off with my bludgeoned face."
"Wicked. You still fight, then?" Ron asked.
"That's well-enough prodding, Ronald," his mother scolded.
"It's okay, Molly, I don't mind really." Benjamin explained, aware of Hermione's low gaze burning into his being. He looked back to the young, red-haired man. "No, I haven't fought in quite some time now. My schedule became a bit burdened by my job at the Cauldron and helping my parents in the Alley."
"Good for you, anyways, Benjamin. You know, that is a poor excuse for a sport if you ask me."
Molly told the table.
"I agree," said Benjamin. The entire table looked at him. "You have got to be a real idiot to fight for some money. But I can't sing or dance well enough and it was what I was good at. There aren't many agriculture jobs in the concrete jungle called London." He finished with a smirk.
The table went quiet for a awhile, allowing for the scraping of metal utensils on ceramic dishes to be the only sounds in the house aside from the radio in the other room. An orchestra of crickets bunkered down in the yard and could be heard from inside.
After dinner, Molly waved her wand as the table items began to hover and stack neatly into the large sink.
Benjamin was in the living room next to Ginny on the couch, both smiling and chatting. Hermione approached them.
"Benjamin, where is the Jarvey I left in your care?" Hermione quickly questioned.
As he turned to face her and ask "what?", the smile that once inhabited his face was now sinking like the sun done done outside just a short time before.
"The Jarvey? It's dark outside and it's my understanding you've planned on staying here for the night." This had escaped Hermione's thought all day. As she had watched him during their meal, she had learned and noticed things she hadn't before. His more brooding side, his openness regarding his troubled past, even small things like the fact that his lips barely moved when he spoke. Benjamin Hendrix seemed to be getting the better of the brilliant Hermione Granger's analytics.
Ginny stood up with wide eyes and vacated the couch, finding her new spot between Ron and Harry on the other couch.
Hermione took the seat next to Benjamin, a serious look of concern on her face.
"He's fine, Hermione. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you about him. He's at my parents; and they've agreed that if he helps keep the rats at bay they'll take him in. Tonight is the first night he's been out of my sight, I promise."
Hermione sighed a breath of relief. She gazed down at her hands in her lap, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm... terribly sorry. I came off a bit aggressive, didn't I?"
He laughed in reply, showing her a set of straight teeth, which seemed to be even whiter against his pale-gold skin. "A bit? You ran your friend off," he said jokingly while pointing at Ginny on the other couch.
Hermione turned her head to look at her friend on the couch.
"Fair point," she joked back with a smile. "Though, I'll admit, it's not a rare occasion for me to run someone off."
"I highly doubt that," he countered.
Ron stood up and excused himself to bed. Harry and Ginny got comfortable cuddling on the couch, staring at the flickering fire and having an intimate conversation of whispers. Hermione admired them for a moment before turning back to Benjamin, her legs now up on the couch and knees pulled close to her chest. Benjamin had his shoes off with socks kicked up on an ottoman. His arm rest on the back of the couch and side of his face pressed against his large fist.
"Sometimes I think I do it on purpose." It sounded as if she was telling herself and not her present company.
He looked deeply into her eyes. Her dark brown eyes met the honey color of his. His eyes twitched back and forth, an expression of thought concentration heavy on his face.
"I've found that it is absolutely acceptable to do what you think is best for you. If it bites you in the ass, then instead of saying you failed, why not call it a lesson learned?"
This wisdom hit Hermione like a cargo train. "It's a bit easier said than done, isn't it?" she tried to debate.
"Everything gets easier with practice," Ben replied as he raised and lowered his shoulders in a shrug. "Do you think the first time I got in the ring that I even had the stamina to go three rounds? Hell no. I had to work on it, y'know. And it got easier; it got a-hell of a lot easier."
"Seriously, why on Earth would anyone fight? I know you got through school well enough." Hermione was genuinely curious. He was a part of the Order and had done well enough in school to have his name circulate the castle. He could have worked within the Ministry or perhaps even the school.
He ran his hand through the soft, dark locks on his head. "Like I said before, it's what I'm- or was, good at. Every man should be able to properly defend himself, without magic. It never hurts to make a dollar off of it, either."
"It sounds totally barbaric," Hermione accused.
"You say that until you can't use magic and you've got an enemy directly in front of you - bloodthirsty for your demise."
Hermione scoffed. "As if I haven't been in that position before," she replied quietly.
Ginny and Harry had fallen asleep together on the couch. Benjamin and Hermione were still awake, chatting against the flicker of the flame. Ginny tossed a bit until she finally came to. Noticing that the house was quiet (aside from the still-playing radio and light roar and crackle of the fireplace) and the last two awake were her friend and her potential romantic interest, she woke Harry up and chauffeured him up the stairs and into bed.
Hermione's stomach fluttered at the realization that she was alone with Benjamin. Not in public 'alone' or at work 'alone', but a home-y 'alone". She began to tug at the large, folded quilt that had been draped over the back of the couch.
"You cold?" Benjamin asked. Before she could answer, he had wrapped his thick flannel shirt around her still-bent legs. She smiled shyly as she felt the weight of his hands against her through the fabric. It smelled of him: dark, golden amber; earthy, oud wood; and old, conditioned leather. Small tones of eucalyptus leaked through, providing a bit of freshness to the earthy smells.
"It's like the forest after a rainstorm," she whispered quietly, eyes closed as she breathed the scent into her nasals.
"What did you say?" He leaned lower and closer to her, trying to meet her face to face.
Hermione's eyes flickered open. "Nothing, your shirt just smells nice is all."
Benjamin grinned at such a compliment. "I've got about plenty of them. You want to keep it?"
She shook her head, beginning to take it off of her. The inviting warmth of Ben's hand on top of hers caused her to halt. The first verse to "I Only Have Eyes For You" by The Flamingos began crackling through the vintage radio on the mantle.
"Here, just hold onto it for awhile, then," he insisted. He straightened up the flannel on her creased body. She seemed quite a bit smaller than him while in such a position. It had been some time since she was alone with a man that she had romantic feelings towards, and she began to overthink and cause herself discomfort. Without missing a beat, Benjamin had asked her if she was alright.
"Yes, I think. Well, I don't know actually. I think I'm feeling a bit conflicted, if I'm being honest."
He cleared his throat and said, "Do you want to vent about anything?"
She shook her head. "Not necessarily. Definitely not right now. I'd much rather put intrusive, negative thoughts away from my forethought."
"Hm. Well, would you like to dance?" He asked. When her eyes shot up to meet his, she saw something different. The flames of the fire danced against one side of his face, casting a shadow on the other. Hermione had the chance to look at Benjamin without the curiosity of others to distract her.
He possessed a strong chin behind the soft, dark hair that covered it. His face held little weight and showed off prominent, high cheekbones. She also noticed that, when smiling or making certain expressions, that he had two parallel dimples in the sunken area of his cheeks.
"You want to dance with me?" she asked, taken aback. The last time she danced with anyone was in the forest of Dean with Harry a handful of years prior. Looking at him, sitting enthusiastically, waiting for her.
He stood up from the couch, the old, wooden floors creaking slightly under his weight. He extended a dark, muscular arm towards her. She took the open hand while whispering and unconvincing "okay". He led her into the small, open space in the living room just in front of the fireplace.
She hesitantly placed her hand at the top of his shoulder, resting her shoulder in the crook of his own as his hand held onto her small waist. They began to sway slowly, the wood beneath them creaking with every other step and turn.
"Relax. You need to let go. Let me lead you, like this," he whispered into her ear, causing the hair on her neck to stand and a few shivers to roll down her spine. She could feel it as he put more emphasis on the pull of her hand and the push of her waist. She relaxed under his hands and he pulled her an inch closer. Hermione had not been this close to him before - and now she could breath in his aroma, his essence, his entire being. Almost everything in her at this point was begging to be pulled closer as he twirled them slowly but fluidly in a small circle. The romantic classics playing on the old radio didn't help the excitement boiling inside of her. She wondered if he could hear or feel her heartbeat as if felt like it was in overdrive, ready to spring out of her chest.
Without realizing it, she had scooted inwards towards him and had her forehead placed flat against his chest. He now had his arms wrapped respectfully around her upper back, and she returned with her arms around his solid midsection.
"See, this is nice, isn't it?" He asked in a hush. He felt her weight relax into him a bit more as she nodded. Hermione felt warm, and safe. Perhaps, she thought, that she had starved herself of physical intimacy; whether that be platonic or obviously romantic. The tension she carried constantly seemed to shift outward and vacate its residency in her physical body.
As pleasant and savory as the moment was, it drew to a close as the song ended and "bloody advertisements" forced them out of their embrace. Hermione, now a bit flustered, attempted to pull herself to her senses.
"I should be getting to bed," she said quietly, as if it were a secret that she was still awake with him to begin with.
"Really?" Benjamin asked solemnly. "Do you want some tea before you go?"
She was avoiding his worrisome gaze while attempting to fold the shirt he had placed over her as neatly as she could. "No, I'm fine. I should have been in bed an hour ago."
Just as she was trying to leave, he grabbed the wrist of her long-sleeved sleep shirt and begged her to stay.
"Don't leave yet, please. I'm sorry, what did I do? What, you didn't like the dance?" He let go of her sleeve.
She shook her head feverishly in disagreement. "No, it's not that."
"Okay.." Benjamin threw his hands behind his head as he went on, speaking aloud as he brainstormed, "is it perhaps something I said earlier?"
Again, she shook her head. "No.. that's not it."
"So it's not something I said and it wasn't my dancing. So, what, is it me? You don't like me?"
She looked up a bit, stopping to stare at his barely-moving lips as he spoke before ascending the rest of the way to meet his golden, peering eyes. "It's not you, either," Hermione breathed out. "It's me," she added, barely audible.
He took a heavy step closer to her. Ben happened to be so close that Hermione could feel the heat radiating from his entire body. He stood roughly a head taller than her and his burly body felt to her twice as wide as her own - though, this was actually an exaggeration.
"I- I don't want to mess up what I've worked hard the past few years to achieve. My position within the Ministry, my home. I can't throw it away for-" she was interrupted by his strong hand pushing a lock of hair gently behind her ear.
"What are you doing?" she asked coyly, feeling flustered again by his skin against hers and his sweet actions towards her.
"I want to kiss you," he replied, causing her to inhale sharply. He continued, "but you don't have to kiss me back if you don't want to." He had been inching himself closer to her, and now their bodies were nearly pressed to one another and he looked down on her with desperation. She could feel her own desire burning deep within her and in places she hadn't felt in years.
Hermione's hand found its way back to Benjamin's shoulder as his lips were now dangerously close to her face, his warm breaths filling her nose. He pressed his warm lips lovingly against her cheek. Hermione was now gripping onto him, using his steady posture to keep herself upright. Benjamin pulled his lips from her cheek and slowly brushed his lips in the direction of her own. She hadn't pulled away yet. How could she? This tingle, this burn. This was foreign. This was exciting. This was living. The space between her legs quivered and filled with a fiery heat.
Their lips met in unison. She kissed him back almost immediately, but pulled away for a split second out of embarrassment. It couldn't keep her away as she felt his breath again, but on her neck. She turned her face back towards him and crashed her wet lips onto his. Hermione had become more enthusiastic and more hungry; she let out a breathy, quiet moan as her knees gave out and Benjamin held her as he fell onto the floor. He had his solid, muscular arms around her, offering her a secure, cradled feeling as they slipped into another deep, wet kiss.
Hermione could feel her lips separating from each other as they asked for more. A hand ran through the hair at the back of his head as he pushed his tongue out of his mouth and licked her bottom lip. This caused a chain reaction; her brow furrowed as she moaned softly into his mouth, and the warm, wetness between her legs was becoming more noticeable to her.
As vulnerable as she felt, the increasing desire to stay cradled in his light-brown arms seemed to wash over her and give her no other impulse but that. She could feel one of his hands beginning to drift along the lines of her body - it drifted up to her face, which he caressed, down past her shoulder, and using his fingertips to trace lines up and down the inside of her arm (against her sleeve). As his hand wandered upwards again, over her navel and continuing, she grabbed ahold of it before it reached her breast.
"I can't..." she breathed out heavily. She hadn't managed to let herself get this far before, with neither Viktor Krum or Ronald Weasley. Did she want her first time to be on the dusty floor of the Burrow? With a man she had just met only a few weeks prior?
She felt a waft of cool air on her sweaty, upper chest as Ben pulled his face away from hers, arms still wrapped tightly around her body.
"I'm sorry, you're right. It's a bit fast, huh?" He attempted to joke to ease his own discomfort, adding in a forced chuckle for effect.
"It's not that I don't want to. I've just never..." she began to trail off, her cheeks rosy from embarrassment.
Immediately understanding what she was talking about, his eyes widened a bit as he responded. "Oh. I wouldn't have expected that," he scratched the back of his head in thought. "I'm glad you told me, though."
Her gut wrenched around like a black hole inside of a washing machine. What did he mean by that? Did he feel like he was wasting his time? Had she damaged some inflated ego that she was unaware he possessed? It took all of her to let him take the lead, to submit to him in such a vulnerable way, and now what? Perhaps he wouldn't want her because she was "too inexperienced".
They shuffled around a bit with Hermione rising from the top of him, and him stand up shortly after. They stood rather awkwardly next to each other, brushing out the wrinkles and folds in their clothes.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She didn't feel it was something she should apologize for, but he felt like someone who needed apologizing to. Or perhaps not.
"No, I'm sorry. Really, if I had any idea I definitely wouldn't have been getting handsy on a dusty floor. I shouldn't have anyways, I'm more of a gentleman than that - or I'd hope I am." He looked down at his black socks ashamedly. Lust was nothing to be ashamed of, however, and Hermione knew this. It was, of course, how one chooses to act upon these desires.
She took his chiseled face into her dainty, pale hands. "It's not the dust. It's not you. I just want it to be a bit special. And, unfortunately for us both, I'm going to have to get to know you a bit better before THAT will ever happen. I didn't give it to Viktor and I didn't give it to Ron." His honey-colored eyes looked back into hers with such depth and conviction of feelings that she could not help but plant one more soft kiss upon his dark pink lips.
"I really should go to bed," she reminded him as she dropped her hands and eyes from his face.
"Yeah, me too," he agreed sadly. "I'll be out here on the couch if you change your mind," he joked again, settling himself on the old, springy couch.
He watched as she made for the stairs, but before she could begin her ascension, she heard him whisper out to her. "Just so you know, I have wanted to do that for quite some time."
She left without turning back and with a smirk on her face. Now separated and alone, they replayed their most recent interaction over and over until they were lulled into a deep, dream-filled sleep..