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Hermione Granger, muggleborn witch, had been so excited to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Finally, a place where she could fit in and be herself, learn amongst peers who were like here - other witches and wizards - and finally make real friendships. She had counted down all the days over summer until September 1st, when she would start her new life. She'd neatly packed everything in her school trunk multiple times, just to make sure she had everything. And, she thought she might know everything about the school. After all, she'd read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover three times.

She sat next to a quiet boy named Neville on the train, but spent the better part of the journey helping him look for his lost toad familiar. She couldn't complain too much, because that was how she met the Harry Potter. She even got to show off a new spell that she'd learned, though Potter's red-haired companion didn't seem too impressed by her skill.

She hadn't had time to feel nervous while she was on the train, but once she was in the boats that took them across the massive lake in front of the school she started worrying about the Sorting Ceremony. There wasn't much written about the Sorting, except that students were placed where they best belonged. Hermione didn't think she'd make a good Gryffindor. Daring and bravery? She didn't have either of those. Hufflepuff seemed out, too. She was notoriously impatient and she'd never had friends to be loyal to in the first place.

No, Hermione thought she'd end up in Ravenclaw. Wit and learning, she had those in spades.

But, if she was really honest, where she actually wanted to go was Slytherin. Cunning and ambition. Hermione had big plans for herself. She knew where she was going in life and she knew that Slytherin house would propel her to the top.

When she learned that the Sorting was done by a ragged looking old hat, she was disappointed. How was that old thing meant to tell her where she was best suited? But, no one else seemed bothered by it, though, and she watched as her classmates cycled through their turn sitting on the stool in front of the whole school to have their destiny decided until her name was called.

The hat sat on her head for nearly five minutes, hemming and hawing and she just knew that this Hat was bunk, until it finally decided on her house. "SLYTHERIN!" it shouted out proudly.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that she didn't get the same thunderous applause as other students sorted in their respective houses and she briefly wondered why. Hermione walked to the table and sat down next to the girl who'd gone before her - Tracey Davis. "Hi, I'm Hermione," she said, giving her new companion a toothy grin.

"Tracey," the girl responded, with a pinched look on her face.

A blonde girl quickly joined them. "I'm Daphne Greengrass," she said, haughtily. "Are you related to the Dagworth-Granger family?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, not knowing any better and responded with a wide smile, glad to be making friends. "No, my parents are muggles," she responded.

The two girls let out horrified gasps to learn that she was a mudblood as they called it. Hermione didn't know what it meant, but they did move away down the table from her, ignoring her for the rest of the feast. And Hermione Granger was left all alone. Again.

Hogwarts was horrible. It had been weeks, but Hermione still hadn't been able to catch a break with her new housemates. The girls were horrible, but none of the other Slytherins would be caught dead speaking to a mudblood. They played horrible pranks on her, charming her bed curtains shut or destroying her uniforms.

The brunette cried herself to sleep most nights, her face shoved into a pillow, though she was certain they could still hear. They probably laughed about it to themselves later when she was gone.

Despite excelling in all of her classes and winning so many house points for Slytherin, her own housemates called her a know-it-all and sniggered with the Gryffindors when Ronald Weasley made fun of her flawless pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa. Nevermind that she got the charm right on her first try.

To her vast disappointment, magic didn't make it any easier to relate to her peers.

The worst thing about Hogwarts, though, was flying. Hermione had read all the books before coming to school and she'd been so excited that she would actually get to try flying on a broomstick. She'd be just like a real witch, in the cartoons! But, the books could not prepare you for the real thing. No matter how hard she tried, the broom just did not respond to her.

Draco Malfoy, another Slytherin, had laughed in her face. "The stupid mudblood can't even call a broom. Are you sure you're even a real witch?" he teased her, elbowing his two big gorilla-like friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and they started to laugh, too.

Hermione looked up what mudblood meant. It was not a nice word; it was a horrendous word. She wanted so badly to wipe that smirk off of Malfoy's face, but that would mean earning a detention and she did not want to get detention so early in the semester.

So, she'd begged Madame Hooch to release her from lessons - to let her drop the class - but to her dismay, she learned that Flying was a required course for First Years. She was forced to face her own failure week after week.

Hermione knew that the one place in this giant castle that she could be alone without worry about being tormented was by hiding away in the library. She loved to study and get ahead on her assignments, while it seemed like the rest of her classmates procrastinated until the last minute to get their work done. Draco Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead in the library, so she knew she was safe things got to be too tough, she would head over to the library, pull out her books and maybe, if no one else was around, have a good cry.

Things had been particularly horrible for her that day. Her own Head of House, Professor Snape, chastised her for incessant hand-waving during potions and then Pansy Parkinson had "spilled" a glass of pumpkin juice down the front of Hermione's crisp, white shirt. And, to top it all off, she'd failed her flying lesson. Again.

She was weeks behind her classmates. Even Neville Longbottom was doing better than she was!

Hermione found her favorite table and barely managed one deep breath before the sniffles started. She wished she could just go home, forget that Hogwarts or magic even existed. A voice startled her from her distress.

"Oi! Stop your sniffling!"

Hermione looked up, shocked to see the scary looking Fifth Year Slytherin, Marcus Flint. He was hulking and tall and an absolute menace on the Quidditch pitch. Hermione knew that he was a frequent breaker of the rules - the exact kind of wizard she wanted nothing to do with.

But, today she was too annoyed to take orders from a brutish boy a few years older than her. "What's it to you?" she demanded, jutting her chin in the air and furiously wiping hot tears from her cheeks.

"Some of us are trying to study and we don't need weepy little First Years making all kinds of noise," he snapped back at her, pushing back from his desk and stomping his way towards her, looming over her.

"Oh, just...leave me alone, you brute!" she hissed, picking up the nearest object she had, which was, unfortunately, a book. She wound her arm back and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the face before he could stop it.

When the book feel, he didn't even look mad, just surprised. "Do that again," he insisted, looking at her with his head cocked to one side, like he was a confused dog.

It had felt good to get a bit of her anger out so Hermione summoned the book and hurled it at him again. This time, when the book made contact, his nose was bleeding, but he didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Well, Merlin's staff!" he said, pulling out the chair across the table from her. "What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger," she replied, tersely, wondering just what had put him in such a good mood all of sudden. Maybe he had a concussion?

"You're the mud- muggleborn. Sorry," he said, noticing her level glare. "That's a Chaser's arm you've got there," he complimented.

"Chaser?" she asked, feeling confused.

"Yeah, Chaser. Like Quidditch? Have you played before?" he asked, figuring that she probably hadn't, being a muggleborn and all. "How did you get so good at throwing things?"

Hermione darted out her tongue to wet her lips. This was the first time that anyone at this school had shown any interest in her and she wasn't about to pass it up. "My father was a champion cricket bowler. He's always made me practice. But girls aren't allowed on my neighborhood team," she said with a frown.

"Cricket?" Marcus asked, his turn to be confused.

"It's a Muggle sport," Hermione explained, sure that he would leave her alone once she brought up her Muggle heritage. That always seemed to freak out her Slytherin classmates.

But, he surprised her. "How would you like to play Quidditch?" he asked. Marcus might have been a brute, but he was a brute who loved winning and this girl could throw.

"I guess I would like to, but I can't fly," she told him with a frown. It was her one failure as a witch and it hurt to admit it to him.

That did not deter him. "Then, let me teach you," he demanded. He wasn't about to let her slip between her fingers just because she couldn't figure out a broom. Marcus was one of the best flyers Hogwarts had seen. He'd be damned if she couldn't be taught.

Hermione scoffed at the suggestion.

"Come on, it will be fun," he said. "Alright. How come you were crying in the library anyway?"

She rolled her quill between her fingers, trying to decide if Flint was trustworthy enough to unload on. Finally, she decided it might be nice to tell the truth to someone. "None of the Slytherins are nice to me because I'm a mudblood. None of the other houses are nice to me because I'm a Slytherin," she said, the truth pouring out of her. "Malfoy teases me constantly."

"Okay. What if I said I can make that stop, if you let me teach you to fly and to play Quidditch," he offered. It was a long shot, but he figured he could make it happen. Malfoy was a little shit, but Marcus was much bigger than him.

Hermione longed to have friends and ultimately decided that it was too good of an offer to pass up. "They'll leave me alone?" she asked, timidly. Being in Slytherin had taught her not to trust anyone at face value, but Marcus seemed like he might just really want her to play Quidditch. She didn't sense any ulterior motives with him.

"Hell, I can ever make them be friends with you, if that's what you want," he offered.

Hermione highly doubted that. Besides, she wanted real friends, not those who only talked to her under duress. She crossed her arms over her chest while she considered the offer. "Okay, I will try. But, I am not making any promises. And if I don't like flying-"

"You will like flying. Trust me," Marcus said, cutting her off. "Meet me down at the pitch after dinner tomorrow. Do not be late."

Hermione felt a bit silly going down to meet Marcus after dinner. She hadn't told him that she couldn't even get a broom to come to her hand when called. Still, she went anyway.

Flint was waiting for her in what looked like a practice uniform for Slytherin and she hoped that she'd be alright in her school uniform. That's what she'd always worn during lessons with Madam Hooch.

"I should tell you that I can't even get a broom to so much as hover when I call it," she said, bypassing greetings, with a light blush on her cheeks. Oh, she couldn't stand it if Flint thought she was a failure of a witch, too!

"That's because the school brooms are shite," he said. "Holdovers from the seventies. You'll use my broom." He guided her towards where his broom was waiting on the pitch. Hermione could immediately tell it was much nicer and better cared for than the one the school had provided her for lessons. Still, it felt odd to use someone else's broom - almost like someone else's wand.

"Now," Marcus started, his voice taking on an almost professorial quality. "You need to think of the broom actually in your hand when you call for it. Basically, you are willing it to happen. Go on then, give it a shot." He bounced on his heels, obviously wanting to get through the easy part of their lesson.

Hermione felt herself brace for yet another failure, before she squared herself, imagining the broom coming to her hand. "Up," she said firmly. Almost immediately, the broom shot to her outstretched hand to her absolute astonishment. "I did it!" she practically squealed.

Marcus gave her a hint of a smile, seeing her exuberance. "Told you the school brooms were shite. Now, that was the easy part. You've got hold of the broom, go ahead and mount it," he said.

Hermione had never gotten this far in all of her lessons and she was eager to get started. Following Marcus's careful instructions, she was quickly able to push off the ground and before she knew it she was hovering in a little circle over his head.

"Excellent," he congratulated her. "Now, shall I take you up to look at the rings so you can see what you'll be working with?"

She nodded and waited for him to touch down, before mounting the broom behind her. She let Flint take control of the broom, her stomach doing somersaults as the ground got further and further away. Being roped between his arms made her feel safe. By the time that they were flying laps around the pitch, Hermione couldn't keep the smile off of her face.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

It hadn't taken Marcus long to make good on his side of the promise either. She wasn't sure how he'd done it with the girls, but before long, Millie Bullstrode and Tracey Davis were including her in their conversations at lunch and dinner. She would later learn that Millie and Marcus were cousins and he'd blackmailed her with something he'd tell her parents; he'd reminded Tracey that she was just a half-blood anyway, so she shouldn't be such an uppity bitch if she ever wanted a pureblood husband.

The girls soon learned that Hermione wasn't all that bad, albeit a bit socially awkward. It would never be a true or easy friendship, but it still suited them.

She knew how he got Draco to leave her alone, though. Hermione had been minding her own business after Potions one day, when Draco had purposefully sent a splitting hex at her overstuffed bag, only to laugh at her while she scrambled to collect her she even knew it, Marcus was stomping down the corridor with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grabbing Malfoy by the ear. He torn into him about leaving Hermione alone. "I don't give a shit if she's a mudblood! She's a Slytherin and you'll leave her alone or you'll have me to answer to," he barked out.

After Malfoy ran away, tears in his eyes, Marcus bent down and tried to repair her book bag. To her dismay, he wasn't half as good with Charms as he was with flying, but it was nice to have someone at least make an effort on her behalf.

By the end of her First Year, Hermione was a fair flier. She was sure she'd never have the pure talent that Harry Potter had, but she could stay on the broom and score with a Quaffle while on it. Marcus made her meet him twice a week on the pitch to explain the rules of Quidditch, run drills, teach her proper technique, and of course practice flying.

She was sure that if Flint hadn't stepped in when he did, Hermione would have been petrified of flying for the rest of her life, absolutely paralyzed by her fear of failure. But she was good at it. She could duck and weave and she could catch and pass. She loved the feeling of the wind through her hair.

Marcus was proud of her achievements, perhaps the first person in this blasted school who was. He took time to tell her how well she was doing and gave her notes on how to improve. Really, Hermione though, he should be teaching the whole damn school how to fly. Why everyone was so afraid of him, she really couldn't say.

He made a point to find her before they returned to their respective homes for the summer. "So, you'll make sure you practice your drills over the summer?" he asked, on their last evening together before summer break. It was warm and sunny and the days seemed endless.

"Yes,I promise," she agreed, trying to hide her grin as he nagged her for the fiftieth time.

"Because I don't want to come back in September and learn that you've forgotten everything I taught you this year," he continued, his grey eyes steely and sharp.

She couldn't help but grin. Before she knew it, she was launching herself at him and wrapping him up in a tight embrace. "I promise, Marcus," she said with a bright grin. "Have a good summer."

He looked a bit confused to have a tiny little First Year (well, soon to be Second Year) with her arms wrapped around his middle. But, Marcus had developed a soft spot for young Hermione over the school year, with her tenacity and inability to accept anything less than perfection. She was gonna make a great Quidditch player.

He hugged her back. "You too, Hermione."

Chapter Text

Hermione was just as excited to begin her second year of Hogwarts as she had been to start her first. She'd spent all summer practicing her drills for Quidditch and she hoped that Marcus would be proud of her when he saw how much she improved. Her parents had even gotten her her own broom.

When she'd gotten on the train, Millie approached her and told her that she could join the rest of the girls in their compartment. She sat with Millie, Tracey and Daphne, who were all prattling about their summers. Hermione could tell they weren't thrilled about her presence, but she was just reading so they didn't really mind. Pansy had left as soon as Hermione had shown up to find Draco. Hermione didn't think that Pansy would ever tolerate her.

They had barely left the station when their compartment door was sliding open, revealing the large form of Marcus Flint. Hermione excitedly put down her book, before standing up and wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He smelt comforting, like broom polish and the woods.

When she broke away, she thought he might be annoyed, but instead he rewarded her with a crooked smile, ruffling her hair. "Did you get taller this summer?" he asked with an appraising look.

Hermione blushed and nodded. "Just an inch. The doctor, I mean, the healer said I shouldn't get too much taller though." It wasn't a surprise. Both her parents had been very average height people, but Hermione had hoped she would have gotten a bit taller. She was one of the shortest girls in their class after all.

Marcus smirked. "Pipsqueak," he teased, with a smirk. He then gave her a stern look. "You better have practiced. I want to see you on the pitch tomorrow after dinner." He crossed his arms, but his tough guy act wasn't working on her.

"Alright, Marcus. See you then," Hermione said brightly, before sitting back in her seat.

Once Marcus had left the compartment, the other three girls rounded on her immediately. Millie looked the most confused. "What's going on with you and my cousin?" she demanded. Few things made Marcus Flint smile, and Millie couldn't believe that Hermione Granger was one of them.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "He wants me to play Quidditch. He taught me to fly last year," she explained, not finding it odd at all. She opened her book, and read the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

Marcus watched Hermione fly around from his hovering broom. He was impressed with her agility and it was clear that she hadn't been neglecting the sport over the summer. He was proud of her, even if she was a pipsqueak. She was obviously a bit small for a chaser, but she was quick and it made up for her size. Hermione could bob and wave, duck and dodge and Merlin, her arm was strong.

Marcus whistled her over and she quickly sped to his side. "Are you ready for tryouts?" he asked, wondering if she was nervous.

Hermione bit her lip. "I think I am ready," she told him, honestly, before self doubt began to trickle back in. "But I am afraid that the captain won't like me. What if he won't let me onto the team, just because I am a muggleborn?"

Marcus began laughing, a rich deep laugh that had Hermione confused. "Hermione, I am the captain," he revealed.

She was obviously surprised, though she really shouldn't be. Who else would they have picked? It seemed silly that she hadn't realized before. Marcus had the drive and the skill to lead Slytherin to victory. "Congratulations Marcus!" she said brightly.

His cheeks were slightly pink, which Hermione thought was sort of cute. Had no one else congratulated him? He cleared his throat. "Thanks." He stared at the ground. "But, I won't play favorites, alright? I just want to put together the best squad, so just get out there and do your best."

Hermione thought that was surprisingly honest of him, but at the same time, it made sense. Marcus wouldn't put anyone on the team who didn't have the skill. He wanted to win. It did make her feel a lot better. The Quidditch pitch was one of the few places where her blood status didn't matter, and it was all because Marcus had given her a chance.

She sometimes wondered why he was so nice to her. They couldn't be more different. But, Hermione wouldn't question it. Her life had gotten better since she befriended Marcus Flint. Sometimes she worried about what would happen when he graduated, but she tried not to focus on it. Maybe she'd be better friends with the other Slytherin girls by then. She could dream.

"Alright, I'll do my best. I don't want to let you down, Marcus," she promised. She would prove that she was worth his time.

"I know you will, pipsqueak," he said with a smile.

The morning of Quidditch tryouts had dawned brightly. The air was cool and crisp - perfect for flying. There were more than thirty people trying out that day and Hermione was the only second year girl. She was nervous, but she was confident in her abilities.

Most of the others trying out for chaser were boys, with lots of experience, but she was able to hold her own, and scored quite a few times on the keepers, even Miles Bletchley, who had the starting spot last year. She knew that it quite annoyed him to be scored on by such a little girl.

She wasn't blind to the fact that everyone was whispering about her, their eyes scanning her movements for any mistake that could be held against her. Draco Malfoy sneered at her when she touched down after her trial, unable to believe that the girl from flying lessons had transformed into such a Quidditch player.

In the end, while she was good, she wasn't quite good enough for the first squad. Yet. Marcus had told her, with a hand on her shoulder. But, she was one of the five people that had made the reserve squad. She was so pleased that she'd been selected out of the dozens of people that had tried out, almost nothing could bring her down.

Except the fact that Draco Malfoy had somehow made seeker. She trusted Marcus to make the right decisions, but she couldn't believe that he'd beaten out Terence Higgs, and it didn't seem that the older boy could believe it either.

"Malfoy, stay after," Marcus said, calling the first team meeting to a close, dismissing everyone else. Once everyone was gone, Marcus stared down the cocky Malfoy heir. He knew that he had to make something clear. "The only reason you are on the first squad is because of the promise your father made me."

"Don't worry, he'll get you the brooms. Though I don't know that everyone needs one," Malfoy assured him, but Marcus wanted to make sure things were clear.

"Listen, Malfoy. Either everyone on the team - reserve players included - gets a broom or we don't want any," Marcus demanded, puffing out his chest. "I want the best squad and Higgs is better prepared. The only thing that edges you ahead is the brooms." Honestly, it would be hard to pass up brand new Nimbus 2001s.

"Why do you care, anyway?" Malfoy questioned. "She's just a mudblood."

"Because she's got a damn good arm," Marcus said, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Now, everyone gets one, or you aren't making the first squad."

"Alright, fine. Everyone gets a broom." Malfoy scowled, but Marcus knew that boy wanted to play enough to make good on the promise. He was practically obsessed with betting Potter, but then again, so was Marcus.

Hearing that the Chamber of Secrets was open, and in such a sinister way, with writing on the wall in blood turned even Marcus's stomach. He hadn't heard of the Chamber of Secrets before, but Hermione had filled him in, whispering what she knew about it from that giant book she was always lugging around.

Malfoy liked to posture, and acted like he knew all about the Chamber. Apparently it had been opened previously and a girl died - a muggleborn student. Malfoy even bragged in front of Crabbe and Goyle, the oafs, that he hoped Hermione died this time.

That had had Marcus snarling and cracking his knuckles. Malfoy just needed to be shoved around a bit before he clammed up with his desires to have one less muggleborn in Slytherin house.

When the first student was petrified, it had sunk fear in his belly. He couldn't deny that he was worried about the little pipsqueak. She was so small and she was always walking back from the library late at night, right before curfew. That's when people were ending up petrified by some kind of mysterious monster.

He tracked Hermione down in the library - of course - and pulled out the seat across from her. "You have to stop staying here so late, Hermione. It's not safe for you," he ordered.

But, Hermione was stubborn. "Don't be ridiculous, Marcus. I won't be cowed by some pureblood's idea of a joke," she said insistently, putting her quill down with a flourish. "Malfoy doesn't frighten me."

"Whatever is petrifying the other muggleborns isn't a joke." He knew that she was brave, but he didn't want anything to happen to her. She'd wormed her way into his life and he cared about her.

"I can't go through school being afraid, Marcus," Hermione sighed. She looked tired. It was touching that he cared about her. It seemed like he was the only one at this school.

Marcus ran his fingers through his short hair, annoyed. He knew that she went through more than she should, and despite what he could do for her in his own house, he knew that the other students were not kind to her. If she was even a little weak, they would pounce. "Promise me that you will just...keep your head down, alright? Be careful."

Hermione put her tiny hand on top of his. "I promise Marcus."

It had taken a lot of cajoling from Millie, and the promise that she would review the girl's charms essay for the rest of term, but Hermione finally got the girl to give up her cousin's birthday. October 23th. Hermione smiled to herself. Really, she was lucky she found out in time to sort him a gift.

After all, seventeen years was a very important year in a witch or wizard's life. It was when they came of age and Hermione wanted to give Marcus something special, something that would show she cared about him.

She had been saving up her allowance over the summer and finally she had enough to get what she wanted for him. She'd ordered it via owl post and wrapped the package lovingly, waiting until after dinner to give it to him.

He'd shown up in the library like she'd asked and if he had any idea on why she'd asked him there, he didn't make it known. She watched as he looked confused when she slid the rectangular package across the table they sat at. "Happy Birthday," she said sweetly.

His eyebrows furrowed together while his fingers caressed the bright green paper that was wrapped around it. "How did you know it was my birthday?" he asked, still not opening his gift.

"Millie told me, now go on, open it!" She felt more excited about this than he seemed. Eventually, though, he ripped through the paper and opened the box. He was hesitant when he saw what was inside. "I know that a wizard's parents typically give their sons watches for their seventeenth birthday, but I thought you'd like something a little extra."

He let his fingers caress the gleaming silver pocket watch chain, shocked that Hermione would go to the effort to give him such a gift. It was simple, but obviously finely wrought, clearly it would have cost a lot of money. He couldn't remember a time when his friends gave him a present. Typically, in the boys' dorms, when it was your birthday you were expected to bring the firewhiskey.

His throat felt a bit tight that Hermione would do something so...nice for him. Merlin, he didn't even know when her birthday was. Should he get her something as well? The was in completely uncharted territory.

Seeing her worried little face, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip, he gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you." He couldn't say anything else, because he was afraid whatever came out of his mouth would be stupid or offensive.

She smiled brightly, glad to know that her gift was well received. Hermione hadn't thought that it might be a bit of an overstep, but she'd just wanted to do something nice.

"When is your birthday?" he asked her, feeling like a terrible person.

"September Nineteenth," Hermione said brightly, a blush painted on her cheeks. "But you don't need to worry about it Marcus. I don't expect you to reciprocate."

He nodded, but filed away the date for a later time. He would not forget her birthday the next year.

Quidditch games ended up being so much more intense when you sat on the bench rather than in the stands. Hermione watched with a clinical eye as the Slytherins went against their biggest rival, the Gryffindors.

Mostly, she watched the chasers, wanting to see how their plays worked out and what was successful and what wasn't. Wood was a good keeper, but he still had his weaknesses. He was much stronger on the left than on the right, but Hermione noticed that Marcus had picked up on this, aiming most of his shots towards the right ring.

It was rather exciting to watch them fly in formation. From her seat on the bench, nestled between Higgs and Pucey, she could see Marcus barking out orders not only to the other chasers, but to the beaters as well.

If there was one thing about Quidditch that she hated, it was the bludgers. She found the idea of hitting a heavy ball as hard as possible, with the intention to harm, at your opponent to be abhorrent. She watched as Montague took a hard hit to the leg from one of the Weasley twins, and let out a gasp of concern.

The two boys she was sitting with just laughed at her. "He'll be alright," Higgs assured her. "It's nothing that Madame Pomfrey can't fix up when the game is over." She and Terence had formed an odd little...understanding. An understanding that they both hated Draco Malfoy and saw their new Nimbus 2001 brooms as bribery.

Hermione had tried to discuss the blatant pay out from Lucius Malfoy with Marcus, but he'd refused to speak about it with her, to her dismay. It was one of the few times when they hadn't gotten along. Really, it shouldn't be surprising to her that Marcus was willing to go to such lengths to win, but it didn't mean Hermione was going to be happy about it.

Suddenly, it was clear that Harry Potter had spotted the snitch, and well before Draco noticed that he was on the golden ball's trail, he was diving for it. Malfoy, realizing that Potter was in pursuit of the snitch, followed after him. Hermione was a bit impressed that he'd nearly caught up, but in the end, Potter was triumphant.

"Fuck," Terence swore under his breath, but loud enough that she could hear it.

She gave him a sad smile before trying to reassure him. "I'm sure you would have caught it, Terence. Malfoy was completely distracted."

Terence nodded, happy for the support. "Say, do you think you could talk to Flint about it for me? Malfoy is destroying our chances of winning the cup," he asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I can try, but I don't know what good it would do," she answered honestly.

Higgs gave her a wide grin, as though she were being painfully oblivious. "Come on, you know that Flint listens to you, for some reason. Pipsqueak." He smirked, using the awful nickname that Marcus had bestowed on her.

Before she could answer, they were called to return to the locker room, where Marcus would undoubtedly rip into them for the awful way they played.

Hermione had been petrified.

She had been walking alone, back from the fucking library and she'd been fucking petrified.

Marcus had found out from Professor Snape, who asked him to stay after potions, suggesting that he should know that one of his Quidditch players would be out of commission until an antidote could be brewed. He skipped the rest of his classes for the day to go to the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey knew that he was a frequent visitor when he himself was injured, but she couldn't hide the look of surprise when he sat down heavily next to her bed. She'd been holding a mirror, and her face was distorted, horrified at what she'd seen in the reflection.

He was mad. Raging mad. He'd told her. He'd expressly told her not to walk back from the library by herself so late at night. But in the end, he couldn't stay mad at the little pipsqueak. Learning was so ingrained in her that he couldn't be surprised that she wouldn't change her habits.

As the weeks went on, he was mad that Hermione had been endangered in this way. Why should she be targeted this way, just because of who her parents were? Why should such a bright, friendly witch be reduced to blood status? Her blood status didn't convey her thoughtfulness, her toothy smile, her energy, her intelligence, her skill as a chaser.

In a dramatic fit, he'd even punched the stone wall of the infirmary one evening after looking over her because he felt so helpless. It was something that he couldn't fix for her. Madame Pomfrey had chided him, healing the broken bones in his fist and whispering promises that Hermione would be okay, that Sprout had mandrakes and Snape was doing all the brewing. That she was in good hands.

He tried to believe it, but found that it was difficult. She just looked so small and frightened nestled amongst the crisp white sheets of the infirmary.

And Merlin help whoever this Heir of Slytherin was. If Marcus found out who had been opening the Chamber of Secrets, he would beat them to a pulp, the muggle way.

The end of term came quicker than he thought it would and Marcus was worried he wouldn't be able to see Hermione before he had to go home on the Hogwarts Express. That was, until Dumbledore announced that the culprit had been caught and that those who had been petrified had been revived.

The doors opened and he couldn't help but watch as they streamed to their tables one by one. A Hufflepuff boy, a Gryffindor boy, a Ravenclaw girl. And finally. Hermione. He watched as she searched the table, before finally noticing him. She walked - quickly - to where he was seated. "Marcus," she greeted him brightly.

"Hermione," he responded, before making Montague shove over so that she could sit beside him. People would talk about it, but at the moment he didn't care. He hadn't realized just how much he would miss Hermione until she was gone from his world for the past few weeks. "Glad to see you are feeling better."

She opened and closed her mouth, as if trying to decide what to say. "Aren't you going to say, I told you so?" she asked him, staring firmly at the full plate in front of her.

"At first, I was upset with you," Marcus told her, quietly. "But, after a day, I realized that it wasn't your fault. I am just glad to have you back," he told her honestly. Trying to lighten the mood a bit, he nudged her side. "Though, you could have just told me if you wanted to get out of winter conditioning so badly. You didn't have to get yourself petrified to get out of drills."

Hermione laughed at that. "Well, what happened with the rest of the season?" She was intensely curious to know how the rest of the season had gone. Surely, they would have beaten both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Marcus grimaced. "Actually, they canceled the rest of the season. Because of the attacks," he revealed. It had been one of the reasons he was so angry. He had nothing else to focus his negative energy on, nothing to burn off the rage. Of course, he still flew a lot, but it wasn't exactly the same.

Hermione, ever the optimist, just shrugged. "Well, we will just have to show them what we are made of next season."

Chapter Text

Hermione had written Marcus several times over the summer, but she hadn't heard back from him once. She wanted to know what his plans were now that he was done with Hogwarts. Did he have trials anywhere? Was he getting a job? How had his NEWTs gone?

He hadn't returned a single owl, and by the time that September 1st rolled around, she pretty much had it in her head that he had forgotten about her. And why shouldn't he, Hermione wondered, seeing as he was a young man and she was just a thirteen — nearly fourteen! — year old girl.

She resigned herself to her fate at the beginning of first year where she had no friends and hid most of the time in the library. If she was lucky, the other girls in her year would at least refrain from playing pranks on her. If she was exceptionally lucky, she'd still get a spot on the Quidditch team, but she wasn't holding her breath. She just had to hope whoever was the captain would treat her fairly. Like Marcus did. Had.

Getting on the train, Hermione walked up and down the aisle, looking for an open compartment. Full, full, full. She stopped short when she noticed a compartment with only one occupant, someone she didn't expect to see: Marcus.

Her heart sped up and she quickly opened the door, before slamming it behind her. "Marcus! What on earth are you doing here?" she asked brightly, before sliding into the seat across from him.

He looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders in greeting. Hermione took the moment to look him over. He looked...tired, with dark circles below his eyes. Sensing that he had a lot on his mind and determined to get to the bottom of it, Hermione raised her wand, sending a locking charm towards the door and pulling the curtain down.

She moved to his side of the compartment, and sat next to it. "Marcus? What's wrong?" she demanded. She knew something must be wrong if he was back on the Express. He should have already graduated.

"I...had to come back to retake my NEWTs," Marcus said, slowly. He was embarrassed to admit it, especially to someone as smart as Hermione. That he was a failure. But, it couldn't be helped. The end of his seventh year had been so...rough.

First, Hermione had been petrified, and he'd been so angry. He barely studied at all those few months. He'd never admit that to her, though. It was embarrassing and she'd feel guilty for it. Then, he'd found out...

"My mum died, right before exams. Didn't go well," he explained, struggling over the words. He'd tried to take the exams, but when he got to the written portions, he'd just blanked, staring at the empty pages.

Hermione was wrapping her arms around him then, and before he knew it, he was relaxing for the first time in weeks. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," she whispered. She rested her head on his shoulder and he thought it felt quite nice to have her lean on him. But, he was the one who was leaning on her emotionally. "If you ever want to talk about it, I am here to listen," she said sincerely. "Or, if you don't want to talk, we can just sit."

Merlin, he felt like a big sap thinking of how much her words comforted him. How did she know exactly how to make him feel better? Make him feel like he could actually get through this year. It was as if some light was actually bleeding back into his world after a long absence. Why wasn't she admonishing him, for ignoring her all summer?

Before he knew it, she was coaxing him into conversation about the latest quidditch tactics. If there was one positive, he got to captain the Slytherin Quidditch squad one more year. With her calm demeanor and bright smiles, his train ride to Hogwarts was over quicker than he imagined and headed back to repeat seventh year didn't seem so bad after all.

Marcus hadn't forgotten Hermione's birthday all last year, and he'd been agonizing over what to get her the entire time until before he knew it it was September again and he hadn't gotten her anything.

He'd been meaning to ask his mother, though he was really sure she would approve of him getting something for a fourteen year old mudblood girl. He could imagine the lecture he would have gotten about how it wasn't exactly proper. And then, of course, she'd died before he could ask her. Marcus had contemplated asking Millie, but he didn't really want to admit that he was going to get Hermione a present either.

In the end, he decided to get her something that would allow her to pick out what she really wanted — a gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies. A rather generous certificate. He was certain she would be able to pick out anything that she wanted from the store, aside from a new broom. And she liked Quidditch, after all, didn't she?

Marcus watched, a horrible nervousness settling in his stomach, as she unwrapped his hastily wrapped box with slender fingers. Merlin, he hadn't felt this nervous since his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts as a gangly second year!

Hermione looked so excited, so happy to be receiving something, anything, from him. What he wouldn't give to see what she was thinking...

But then, Hermione's expressive face told him everything he needed to know. She looked...disappointed. Fuck, he should have just asked Millie what to get her after all! He didn't know what to get for teenage girls! Maybe makeup or chocolates, or fuck, Hermione loved books! He could have gotten her a book.

A smile plastered on her face — a face that was quickly losing its baby fat — she set the box down on the table where she was sitting so that she could wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank Marcus! It's too...generous. Fifty galleons is too much for me," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the still of the library.

The hug didn't feel him with the fuzzy warmth that it usually did. Instead, he just felt a bit badly. She'd given him such a thoughtful gift and he realized he didn't know her well enough at all to pick a suitable birthday present. It was awful. His voice was scratchy, but he didn't let off that he was disappointed too. "Nonsense, pipsqueak. I just wanted...I wanted you to pick out whatever you wanted."

Hermione nodded. "Excellent! Well, I can't wait until the first Hogsmeade weekend. I can look around then."

Marcus was only just remembering that this was her first chance to visit the village. He hoped that she would find something she liked. Then he wouldn't feel like such a shit friend.

Hermione gave her all at tryouts, viciously attacking the rings, dodging bludgers left and right. It seemed that Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, the two beaters of the team, were trying extra hard to hit her. She was sure that none of them had enjoyed having a mudblood on their team last year. Messing up her tryouts was one of the only ways to keep her off the squad.

But, Hermione didn't mess up her tryouts. She was accurate, consistent, fast. The way she threw the quaffle wasn't conventional, but it made it even harder for the keeper to stop. She knew that she got a fair chance, just like everyone else trying out for chaser, but she felt that she wanted the spot more than anyone else on the team.

So when Marcus announced that she would be on the reserve team — again — Hermione couldn't hide her disappointment. Marcus pulled her aside after the team was dismissed, but his words did little to ease the hurt. "I'm sorry pipsqueak, but you're just too...small right now."

Hermione was worried. She knew she had a good arm, but she wasn't exactly getting any bigger. Would she ever be good enough, big enough to play Quidditch? Had Marcus gotten her hopes up all for nothing?

She left shortly after, feeling surly about the whole thing, leaving Marcus alone to field questions from the rest of the Slytherin team.

Marcus listened to all the objections to Hermione's spot on the squad. Malfoy was the only one opening complaining about her being muggleborn. "I just don't see what the big deal about her is? She wouldn't last in a game," Warrington, one of the other two chasers, argued. Montague nodded in agreement.

Marcus ran his fingers through his hair, hating that he was having to explain himself. "Listen, I wouldn't give her a spot on the squad if she wasn't good enough. Hermione will be the first off the bench if we need a replacement chaser," he told them.

"Sure, her arm is good, but, she's untested. And so small," Montague said incredulously, upset to hear that she'd surpassed even Adrian Pucey in the depth chart.

That didn't matter to Marcus. He knew what he'd seen and he was done talking about it. "She might be small, but she scored the most out of everyone during tryouts. Hermione is the best and she's on the team. If that's going to be a problem for either of you, you should tell me now."

The other two boys, properly chastised, had nothing else to say on the matter. At least, not to his face.

When Marcus joined Hermione in the library — she'd reluctantly let go of her annoyance with not making the first team over a period of weeks — he could tell that she was already annoyed. Still, she didn't complain when he unloaded his charms books in front of him. Marcus didn't study that much, but he was trying more this year since he got another chance at his NEWTs.

He tried to focus on his work, but she just kept huffing, and turning the pages with such voracity that he thought she might rip one of her beloved books. He looked at her pretty face, marred by a sneer. She looked like she had sucked on a lemon and was shaking her head. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer and he just asked her what was wrong. "What's the snitch in your bonnet?"

Hermione's eyes immediately snapped to his. "Did you really move the Quidditch match because of Malfoy?" she demanded.

Suddenly, things snapped into place for Marcus. Malfoy had been injured during Care of Magical Creatures and so Slytherin was able to postpone their game. Marcus shrugged. "Yes. Professor Snape suggested it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and tried to go back to her work. Marcus was getting annoyed. Why should she be annoyed about that? It didn't hurt for them to be more prepared anyway. "What?" he asked, wanting to get to the bottom of her bad mood.

"For one, we should have just played Higgs. You know he's the better seeker." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down. Marcus knew that she didn't approve of the brooms paid for by Lucius Malfoy, but he thought that was settled. "And secondly, Malfoy deserved what he got. He was being a prat in class and the reason he got a little scratch was his own stupidity."

Marcus was going to respond, until he noticed that she was in tears. If there was one thing he didn't know how to handle, it was a crying girl. Looking around, he finally stood before walking over to her side of the desk and getting her attention. "Tell me what's wrong," he said softly. If Hermione was upset, he wanted to do what he could to fix it for her.

"Malfoy is trying to have Buckbeak killed," she said quietly. "But, like I said, it's his fault he was hurt, not Buckbeak's."

Marcus was able to connect the dots on that one. Obviously, Hermione was a gentle soul, but it was just a hippogriff. Though he wanted to tell her that, he didn't imagine that it would go over well, so he kept his mouth shut. He didn't understand why she would be so moved by a magical creature. "Maybe when the Ministry hears what happened, they will dismiss it."

Both of them knew it wasn't likely, with Lucius Malfoy involved, but it was comforting to Hermione nonetheless. She let her head drop to his shoulder while she pulled herself together.

Hermione had let the excitement of the first Hogsmeade weekend sweep her away. The other girls in her year were all eagerly giggling every night as the day drew nearer, hoping that someone would ask them. None of them had been asked — to Pansy's vast disappointment — and they had all resolved to go together.

Despite her shock at being invited along, Hermione was excited to go with them anyway. They were starting to warm up to her, though she knew she would never have an easy friendship with any of them.

Daphne Greengrass had convinced her to let her give her a makeover for the weekend. She was giving one to Millie and Tracey as well. Hermione watched in the mirror while Daphne poured Sleek-Eazy potion onto her hair, brushing away all the frizziness and bushiness and leaving behind perfectly straight hair, secured with a thick navy headband.

Tracey picked out a navy dress for Hermione to wear while Daphne put makeup on her face. Hermione didn't think she'd wear it all the time, but she kind of liked the way she looked so...grown up with it on. She looked pretty. Both Millie and Tracey complemented Daphne on her good work, so Hermione knew the others thought she looked pretty, too.

At breakfast, Terence told her that she looked nice, surprise on his face, making her blush. She wasn't used to any boy noticing her for more than her smarts or her Quidditch skills, apparently.

She didn't see Marcus until she actually got to the village, and when she thought he almost didn't recognize her at first. He was coming out of Honeyduke's. "Hey Marcus, get anything good?" she asked, leaving the other girls giggling a few steps away.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking her over. He reached out and grabbed a lock of her hair. "What did you do to yourself?"

She blushed again. "Daphne gave me a little makeover for the first Hogsmeade weekend." Looking up into his blue eyes, her neck craned — he was really so much taller than she was — she hoped that he liked how she looked. She wasn't sure why, but her stomach was a mess of knots, nervous to be talking to him. Why should she be nervous? It was just Marcus. "Do you like it?"

"No, you look too different," he said, without thinking. Then, he noticed the tears shining in her eyes. "I just...I like how you look normally. Your hair...it always looks wild. Like you've spent the day flying."

But it was too late. He'd already hurt her feelings and she didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. She shook her head, wondering why what he thought he meant so much to her. "Have a good day, Marcus," she said curtly, before returning to the other Slytherin girls.

Professor Snape had told Marcus that he needed to get his grades up at midterm or he wouldn't be able to keep playing Quidditch. Quidditch was just about the only good things about Hogwarts lately, so he knew he needed to make an effort.

He knew who he needed to help him too. Hermione.

It was just that he'd been...well, avoiding her since the Hogsmeade weekend. She'd looked so pretty and it was a bit of a shock really. She wasn't a tiny little first year any more. She was growing up and well, it was a bit odd for him.

Still, he knew that she would help, if he asked, so he lugged his books to the library — the first time in nearly a month — to join her at her table. She greeted him softly, but didn't look up from her own work — Ancient Runes, if he was correct.

He cleared his throat, gaining her attention. "Hermione. I need help with my school work. I need to pass my midterms to keep playing." He knew that he was blushing, embarrassed that he wasn't a better student. "Will you help me?"

One of the things he loved about Hermione was that she didn't look at him with pity or disgust that he was so stupid he had to take the NEWTs twice, when he'd rather be anywhere but Hogwarts. Hermione was understanding of his situation, and genuinely wanted to help, just because she was nice.

She stayed at the library, probably longer than she intended to, helping him set up a revision plan that he promised he would stick to. She even worked in plenty of Quidditch time outside of Slytherin practices. When she broke it all down that way, it seemed manageable.

"And you know I'll always be here in the library, if you want a study partner. I can quiz you or read over essays, but I probably won't be able to help much with practicals. You are a few too many years ahead of me, even if Professor Lupin called me the brightest witch of my age," she said, all in a rush, and then blushed as if she was revealing some secret.

Marcus was glad that someone else was finally recognizing Hermione for the wonderful, talented witch that she was. "Lupin seems like a smart bloke. If he thinks you are the brightest witch of her age, it's because you are. You could sit the NEWTs today, and probably pass more than me," he complimented her. He knew that he frequently complimented her on her Quidditch prowess, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed how smart she was too.

Blushing from the barrage of admiration for her smarts, coming from Marcus of all people, Hermione just gave him a small little smile. "It's Professor Lupin, Marcus. Now do you want to start on your potions essay? I can read it over when you are finished," she promised.

Marcus nodded, and before long they had settled into a companionable silence, each working on their own projects.

Of course, everyone had heard about notorious mass murderer Sirius Black being on the loose, but no one had ever expected him to get into Hogwarts. Then, to hear the more horrifying whispers, that he'd been in the Gryffindor common room, had Hermione shaking like a leaf.

She understood that Sirius Black was just going after Harry Potter — everyone knew he'd sold out the Potters to Voldemort — but she couldn't argue with Professor Snape that the Great Hall would be safer than the Slytherin common room. Even though on the surface, Black had no reason to get into the common room, he could still be hiding there if he'd somehow got their password as well.

And, Professor Snape assured all the Slytherin students on their way to the Great Hall, the teachers would be patrolling the Great Hall, watching over them. Sirius Black wouldn't be able to get his hands on any one who was there.

She shuffled down to the Great Hall, embarrassed to be seen by all her classmates in a long flannel nightgown, even though all her roommates wore similar sleepwear to bed. Despite knowing that Black was only going after Potter, as a muggleborn, she was still worried. Obviously, Black was a pureblood supremacist, and his actions before being sent to Azkaban only proved this further.

What if he killed her for being a muggleborn polluting Slytherin's noble lineage? Malfoy told her that's what she was doing more often than not.

Hermione stared out at the open cots, thinking that she was going to be much too nervous to fall asleep, even if she was surrounded by her classmates. She stood still, knowing that she should find a spot before all the good ones were taken.

Before she could move though, Marcus was tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. "Come on, pipsqueak. We're over here," he murmured. He took her hand and led her over to where some of the other Quidditch players were already on cots. He sat down in one and then indicated that she should do the same with the adjacent one.

"Marcus, I'm afraid," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide with anxiety. He seemed to know what she needed, though, and gave her a comforting smile.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he told her. "I'll even hold your hand, until you fall asleep." He shoved his cot over so that it was closer to hers, so their hands could hang comfortably in between.

Hermione did feel safer with her hand tucked into Marcus's large hand, as though he was swallowing up all her fears in just one grasp. Before long, her eyes were drifting shut. Marcus turned on his side, watching the tiny brunette as she was overcome with sleep. She seemed so fragile and he hated that she was worried. He meant his promise when he said he would keep her safe.

Watching her even breaths, the smooth up and down motion of her chest was hypnotizing, and before he knew it, his own eyes became heavy. He drifted to sleep.

The Gryffindor match couldn't be put off forever, and eventually the day came that they had to face the red and gold. It was a terrible day for Quidditch, in Marcus's opinion, bitter cold and with unusual drafts of wind. Not to mention that the Gryffindors were playing with a ferociousness that even he was surprised by.

It wasn't long until the injuries began to pile up on both teams. Finally, though, Warrington took a bludger to the head, and lost consciousness almost immediately. Madame Hooch halted play to take care of the injured player, while Marcus approached his bench. Looking at Hermione in her Quidditch leathers, he sighed. "Well, Hermione. It's your turn, you're in for Cass," he barked.

She looked surprised, like she couldn't believe that he would actually put her in the game. Adrian Pucey looked like he was going to complain, but Marcus silenced him with a glare. Hermione finally realized it was go time, and popped up on her broom, eager to play for real.

Marcus flew next to her. "They are really gunning for us today, so be on the lookout for bludgers. They are trying to hit you more than Bole or Derrick." He was worried about her. Not long ago, he had promised to keep her safe, and now he wasn't sure he would be able to.

Hermione smirked at him, promised she would be careful, and then snatched the quaffle out of his hands. With the whistle resuming play, Hermione was off, bobbing and weaving. She was obviously faster than the Gryffindors were expecting, because she scored in less than ten seconds of coming on the pitch!

She played brilliantly, Marcus thought, a prideful smile on his face, running the plays they practiced effortlessly, and racking up more points than Warrington and Montague combined. But, Gryffindor quickly caught on that she was the one to beat.

They attacked her with viciousness — the Weasley twins focusing their bludger hits her way. Bell even tried to kick Hermione off her broom once, but she held on. That was, until she was too focused on the score that she didn't see the bludger headed her way. Marcus flinched, seeing it catch her on the side, knocking her clean off her broom.

He watched as she fell towards the ground. He pushed down on his broom, eager to catch her. She was screaming as she fell, only to let out a surprised gasp when he caught her. "Are you alright, pipsqueak?" he asked.

She caught her breath for a moment. "I'm fine, just get me back to my broom," she insisted, seriousness in her tone. He couldn't argue with her.

At the end of the game — Potter caught the snitch — Slytherin still ended up victorious. Marcus knew that this was a direct result of Hermione's points. She must have had 150 of their 380 points all on her own, he thought with a grin.

The team celebrated on the pitch — except for Malfoy, annoyed at being bested by Potter once again — and Marcus watched as Hermione's smiling face was replaced by a grimace. She grabbed her side, only to collapse to her knees.

Marcus rushed to her side. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked, worried. He scooped her up into his arms, realizing that she wouldn't be able to walk on her own.

"That hit just finally caught up to me," she said sheepishly. He let her know he would fly her to the hospital wing, and ignored the wolf whistles from the rest of the team as he held her in his arms.

Madame Pomfrey was not impressed to see another Slytherin player injured and ushered Hermione behind a curtain to change into the hospital gown. He checked on Warrington, who was still sleeping, before returning to Hermione's bed.

A crack in the curtain revealed her being helped from her jersey, a huge purple bruise on her side from where the bludger hit her. Marcus felt a rage bubble up inside of him. The Weasley twins had hurt his girl, and he wasn't about to stand for it.

Madame Pomfrey met him outside of the curtain. "She's broken five ribs, but its nothing that can't be fixed overnight. You can visit again in the morning."

Knowing that the stern matron wasn't likely to let him speak with Hermione, Marcus let his anger creep up. He was going to get back at those Weasleys.

Bleeding knuckles clenched, Marcus sat in an uncomfortable chair in Professor Snape's office. It had felt good to pummel those gingers for hurting Hermione and he wasn't about to apologize for it. He felt even better knowing that he was able to take them both on at once, and he still had the upper hand.

It wasn't too surprising, knowing that the twins were tall, but lanky, whereas Marcus was filled out with muscle — intimidating. He was pretty sure he'd broken one of their noses, and if he was lucky, he had broken the other's jaw. Really, he wanted to break as many ribs of theirs as they had Hermione.

But then Professor Snape arrived and ruined all his plans. A flick of his wand had the brawl separated into two groups, and he sent the Weasleys to the hospital wing. He'd given Marcus a week of detention, which Marcus thought was light.

After an extreme dressing down on his deplorable behavior, Professor Snape had cut him some slack. "However, I realize that you only lashed out in this way as retaliation for a foul committed during the Quidditch match, which injured Miss Granger," he said, quietly.

Marcus stared at his Head of House defiantly, as if daring him to say something negative about Hermione. "I would do it again," he said, proudly.

"Mr. Flint. I realize that you have a surprising...sense of responsibility for Miss Granger, but please think of how your actions will reflect on her. Do not make enemies for her when you leave the school." Snape seemed to be talking from experience, and Marcus couldn't help but wonder just what that experience was. "I know that you care about Miss Granger and I appreciate the feelings which you may have towards her."

Marcus furrowed his brows, confused. Did Professor Snape think that something romantic was going on between the pair of them? Hermione was just a...just a little pipsqueak. She was too young to be thinking about in that way. "Why?" he finally asked the professor.

"Miss Granger reminds me of someone I knew once," Professor Snape said with a shrug. It didn't answer any of the questions that were swirling through his head about the professor, but he could also sense that he wasn't going to get anything else out of the stoic man. "Consider this your first detention. Come to my classroom after dinner tomorrow for the next one."

Considered dismissed, Marcus tried to clear the tempest of thoughts in his brain as he walked back to the common room.

Marcus wasn't entirely sure when it had started, but once he noticed, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Hermione was running herself too thin. She had too much on her plate and it was taking a physical toll on her body.

She was taking a ridiculous number of classes — all of her electives were full. She had Quidditch practice several times a week and then she spent a lot of time in the library, studying by herself and helping him study too. Then, she'd started pouring over old law books to try and craft a defense for that oaf, Hagrid, to defend his hippogriff from death. Marcus didn't know how she had enough time to get through it all!

Well, she didn't have time to do it all, obviously.

She had bags under her eyes and wasn't as sharp as she usually was, and it just...it almost made him a little upset. He wanted her to take better care of herself. "When was the last time you got a full night's rest?" he demanded over charms textbooks one night in the library.

Hermione's head snapped up to look at him. "Mm, I don't know Marcus, I've just been so busy lately," she answered absentmindedly.

"Well then cut something out," he snapped. "Maybe all this work you're doing for a bloody hippogriff. It's hopeless." He was annoyed that she would put so much work into a creature. Looking at her face, though, he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"You know, some people would say that helping you study is hopeless," she snapped back at him, letting all of the negative feelings that had been boiling up in her out. She saw the hurt look on his face, though, and immediately softened. "Sorry, I shouldn't snap at you. It's just...Buckbeak is important to me. It's not right that Malfoy is trying to have him killed, and that he will succeed just because he is wealthy. I will always fight for the underdog," she revealed. Of course, being a muggleborn in a pureblood house had shown her you always have to fight for what you believed in — what was right.

Marcus softened too, knowing that it was important to her, and even if he didn't understand it, he could still support her. "I understand," he said quietly, his hand reaching across the table to grab hers. "But you will be much more effective if you take care of yourself, too. Go back to the common room and get some rest. I will be alright for tonight."

Hermione looked like she was going to argue for a moment, before she nodded. Packing up her books, she wished Marcus a good night, before heading to get some quality sleep for the first time in weeks.

Marcus was walking through the courtyard on the way to the pitch to do a bit of flying, when he heard the disruption. Malfoy was taking the piss out of Hermione and she was having none of it. "I can't wait to see that overstuffed peacock's head roll," Malfoy snickered.

"How dare you laugh about this Malfoy!" Hermione said, clearly enraged. "Your stupid family ruins everything that it touches," she hissed.

Marcus rounded the corner, only to see Hermione with her wand drawn and Malfoy cowering, even Crabbe and Goyle unable to do anything. When she hesitated and pulled back, all of Malfoy's cockiness came back to the front. "That's right you stupid mudblood! Walk away from your superior," he said.

In a blink of an eye, Hermione had drawn her arm back and swung at Malfoy, hitting him square under the chin. Malfoy wobbled before falling back flat on his arse. Marcus couldn't help but grin, seeing the punch that Hermione packed. He always knew that she had a strong arm. It was others who were unable to believe it.

When she launched herself on top of Malfoy, though, and pulled back to swing again, Marcus knew that he needed to get a hold of the situation before Hermione did something stupid to get herself expelled. He walked over to her and plucked her off the small blond boy.

She immediately began kicking, trying to get back to Draco to keep hitting him. She let out a feral scream when she wasn't able to wriggle free from Marcus's arms. Draco stood up and ran away, face bloodied.

When he figured that she had calmed down enough, Marcus set Hermione down, before turning her around to look at him. He put his hands on his shoulders to keep her in place. Looking at her face, he wiped away the angry tears that had sprung while she was fighting. "Why did you stop me?" she screamed at him.

Marcus kept calm. "I wanted to stop you from doing something you'd regret." He could tell that she was still spitting mad, but cut her off before she could retort. "No, I know you wouldn't regret hurting Malfoy, but if you got expelled, you would regret that," he explained.

He could see the fight leaving her, and before he knew it, she was relaxing in his embrace. Now she was just crying for real. "I just couldn't hear him laugh about Buckbeak like that."

Marcus ran his hand over her wild hair. "It will be okay, pipsqueak," he whispered. "Now, let me see your hand." He held her tiny hand in his, looking at her bruised knuckles. Luckily, none of the bones seemed to be broken, but she was a bit bloody. He was never good with healing charms, but he did his best to help her out.

Once she was calm enough, he let her go. "Come on, let's go to the pitch and do some flying. It always makes me feel better," he suggested.

The end of the term had more surprises than Hermione thought was possible. Buckbeak had survived and Sirius Black had been captured and then escaped. Again. Hermione thought that the two might be related. She further thought it might have something to do with the time turner that Headmaster Dumbledore asked her to turn in the same day.

She didn't mind. If it meant that an innocent life was spared, she would let the Headmaster borrow it again. As it stood, she didn't think that she would be using it again the next year. She hated Divination, and she wasn't going to take it anymore. Plus, Trelawney hated her, too.

Further, her favorite teacher, Professor Lupin, turned out to be a werewolf! Not that Hermione had anything against werewolves, because they didn't exactly have choice in the matter, somewhat like muggleborns.

To top it all off, it was Marcus's last year at Hogwarts and Hermione didn't know what her future at Hogwarts was going to be like. Would the girls keep treating her nicely? Would she make the Quidditch squad next year? Who would the captain even be?

She met Marcus in the common room before she was set to go back on the Hogwarts Express. "Merlin, pipsqueak, it's been a year," he told her, thinking of all the things that they'd been through together. He wondered how she would have fared if he wasn't looking out for her. He wondered if he would have passed a single NEWT if she hadn't helped him.

He worried about her, all alone at Hogwarts next year. "Promise me you'll look after yourself next year? I can't have you getting in trouble if I am not here to look out for you," he instructed.

Hermione smiled, wrapping him in a hug, something that he became more and more used to with each embrace. It made him feel warm. "I promise, Marcus. And will you promise to write to me? You didn't return a single one of my letters last summer." She was trying to guilt him.

"Of course I will," Marcus promised. Last summer, he'd been so lost after the death of his mother, he couldn't be bothered to do much of anything, let alone respond to Hermione's cheery letters.

"What will you do now that you are finished with school?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Marcus shrugged his broad shoulders. "I have trials with a few Quidditch clubs, so I guess hopefully make a squad." He couldn't let on how nervous he was about trying out. All he ever wanted to do was play Quidditch, and it would hurt if he wasn't good enough to keep on with it.

Hermione, brimming with confidence for him, didn't have any doubts. "I just know you'll make a team Marcus. I am sure you could even have your pick. Just do your best." With her seemingly endless optimism in his ability, Marcus didn't feel like he was that hopeless after all.

Chapter Text

To Marcus's immense surprise, he was actually picked up by a team straight out of Hogwarts, and was even promised a spot in the starting lineup and a fat bonus. It was honestly a dream come true.

The first thing that he did with that signing bonus was purchase a flat in Falmouth, where he was going to be playing. He couldn't stand to live another summer in the large house with his angry, drunken father.

Once he'd moved in, he'd invited the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team, new and old, to his flat to celebrate. Hermione had written to him, hesitantly, asking if she could stay over at his flat and leave in the morning; her house wasn't hooked up to the floo. He agreed, just happy that she could come.

When she'd arrived, knocking on the door of his flat, Marcus wrapped her in a hug, not worrying if any of the other Quidditch players noticed. "Congratulations, Marcus!" she said brightly. "I had to tell my parents I was visiting Millie, but they let me take the train by myself."

Marcus was impressed that she was willing to go to such lengths to come visit him, her Slytherin streak showing. "Let me give you a tour." He was rather proud of his flat and he hoped that Hermione would like it as much as he did, before squashing that thought. It wasn't as though she would be spending a lot of time there.

When they reached the kitchen, Hermione helped herself to some of the firewhiskey that everyone else was drinking before they joined the others in the living room. It was really much noisier than he expected. It was nice to see so many people come to support him. He lost Hermione in the crowd and got pulled into a conversation with Basil Broadmoor, the keeper who had graduated the year before Hermione got to Hogwarts.

Time flew by and people started to drift away, until only a few people were left, and Marcus began looking for Hermione. She was one of the only girls here so he knew he should look out for her. For a while, he worried about letting her drink the firewhiskey...she was only fourteen, nearly fifteen. But then again, Draco was barely fourteen himself, and it hadn't bothered Marcus at all.

A quick glance around the room, he was able to find her wild curls fairly easily, seated with Pucey, Warrington, Malfoy and Higgs. She looked happy, laughing, cheeks obviously rosy from drinking.

He walked closer to the circle wanting to know what was going on. It quickly became clear that they were playing Truth or Dare. He laughed along with everyone else when Pucey told everyone that he'd fuck Vector if he had to fuck and Hogwarts professor.

But then, Pucey turned and asked Hermione truth or dare. She bit her lower lip, before proudly saying dare. Pucey turned to smirk at Terence, the blond boy quickly turning pink in the cheeks. "Granger, I dare you to kiss Ter here, on the lips."

Marcus felt his stomach drop when Hermione stood up on wobbling legs, nearly falling over once. He scowled. She'd had too much to drink, obviously. The drink only made her bolder and she was puckering her pink lips and pressing them against Higgs's! Marcus felt his hand clenched tightly in a fist when Higgs didn't do the gentlemanly thing a pull away after a little peck, instead, pressing against her more fully.

He couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, until Hermione broke away, giggling. A sneer came on his face and he broke into the circle. "Alright, Hermione, I think that's enough," he said firmly. Marcus couldn't believe that he was keeping his cool when all he wanted to do was yell at Hermione for getting drunk with these boys.

The boys in the circle laughed at him, but he ignored them when he ushered Hermione into his bedroom so he could put her to sleep. He helped her onto the bed, before sitting down to pull off her shoes.

When he was about to get up, Hermione called his name with sleepy eyes. "Marcus?"

"Hmm?" he stilled, leaning a bit closer to her.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him towards her, so that she could press her lips against his cheek. "Goodnight Marcus," Hermione murmured, before letting him go and closing her eyes.

Marcus stood, his hand on his cheek where her lips had been, a small smile on his face. She looked so small nestled in his bed. Finally, he broke away, returning to the party.

When Marcus got a spare ticket to the Quidditch World Cup, he didn't even think twice about who he would ask. He couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone else than Hermione, even if it meant that he was scrutinized by her muggle parents in their muggle house when he went to pick her up to apparate to the grounds.

He scoffed, thinking that it wasn't so surprising that they were critical of the veritable giant, nearly twenty year old man who came to pick up their pipsqueak of a daughter. But, Hermione's bright smile made it worth it.

She'd dressed with a green top and he gave her a spare Ireland scarf he'd found lying around before apparating them to the grounds. "New hair cut, Marcus?" she asked when they were alone. "I like it," she added, shyly.

Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. After training with the Falcons for a few weeks, he'd gotten the cut the rest of the guys on the team seemed to fancy — short on the sides and a bit longer on top. He was pleased that Hermione liked it too, as it had really started to grow on him.

Before long, they made their way to the box where his Falcon teammates were already gathered. One of his teammates raised his eye at seeing the "friend" Marcus said he was bringing, but Marcus just shrugged. Hermione was a muggleborn and she'd never been to such a spectacle. Hermione, for her part, was completely oblivious, a big grin on her face.

"Wow, this is so wonderful, Marcus! Do you think you'll ever play in the World Cup?" she asked.

Marcus blushed, surprised that Hermione thought he was good enough to play on an International level. Of course, he had dreamed of it since he was a little boy, and now he was one step closer, but still, it seemed an impossible dream. It wouldn't do any good to think about now, as the next Worlds weren't for four more years...but the Euros were just around the corner...

His thoughts were brought back to the pitch when the players flew out onto the field for their announcements. He leaned over to talk into Hermione's ear over the swell of the crowd. "That's Viktor Krum. He's some kind of seeker prodigy," he whispered.

"Like Harry Potter?" Hermione said, her eyes trained on the Bulgarian boy who was showing off some tricks.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Much better than Potter."

The game was exhilarating to watch and certain plays really had him on the edge of his seat. He'd seen a lot of moves from the chasers that he thought he might like to try out, but he wasn't sure if he could match the nimbleness of the Irish chasers. In the end, Ireland won, but Viktor Krum had caught the snitch.

Hermione was bubbling full of energy and Marcus wasn't really ready to take her home yet so they walked around the tents. He couldn't believe that she would be heading back to Hogwarts next week and he would be headed back to Falmouth. He worried that she would be alright, but she seemed so confident right now. He supposed that after hitting Draco, the blond boy probably wouldn't give her too many problems.

He cleared his throat. "You know you can write to me anytime you like," he told her, honestly. "If anyone is bothering you...just let me know."

Hermione stopped and turned to smile at him. She opened and closed her mouth, perhaps trying to come up with some promise that she would be fine, even though he knew she couldn't promise that.

But before she could say anything, the explosions started. Black hooded figures flew over the crowds, sending curses this way and that. He was confused for a moment, until he saw the Dark Mark in the sky. He would never forget what that looked like. He'd been five the last time he'd seen it in the sky and it was when he'd figured out what his father was.

Spectators were running all over, and Hermione was crying next to him, confused. When she was knocked to the ground, Marcus knew that he had to get her out of there. Picking her up from the ground, he threw her over his shoulder before squeezing his eyes shut so that he could apparate them back to his flat.

He set Hermione down, wiping the tears from her face, even though his own hands were shaking. What the hell was that? Death Eaters? But, Voldemort was gone...

"What was that?" She asked, her voice still shaking from the shock. She had a tiny cut on her cheek from when she fell down.

"I'm not sure." He told her honestly. He wrapped Hermione in his arms, whispering again and again that it was okay, that she was safe. And when she calmed down enough, he brought her home.

Dear Marcus,

I have the absolute worst news! They've canceled our Quidditch season! I am so disappointed, because I thought this was the year I might actually make the first team. Lucian blew a gasket when he got back to the Common Room last night because he was tipped to be captain, and it's his last year. Same with Derrick.

The reason that they got rid of the season is kind of exciting though. They are reinstating the Triwizard Tournament. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are going to be arriving in just a few days, so I am sure that will be interesting. I had to go to the library to read about the Tournament because I hadn't heard of it before. It sounds very dangerous.

The First Task is in November and it's open to the public. I thought perhaps you might like to come and watch. It's sure to be a spectacle.

Oh, and thank you so much for the chocolates that you sent for my birthday. I am savoring each and everyone as they really are so delicious. You shouldn't have spent so much on me, Marcus.

Well, I should get back to studying. Please write me back. I miss you so much Marcus.

Sincerely,

Hermione

Marcus read over each written word eagerly. He was surprised that Quidditch would be canceled, and he did feel bad for Bole. If he hadn't returned for third year, Bole likely would have gotten the captaincy last year. The Triwizard Tournament sounded intense, and he thought that he actually would like to go. Who knew when the next one would take place?

He could admit too, that at least part of the reason that he wanted to go was to see Hermione. He missed her just as much as she missed him, apparently.

He smiled reading that he'd done a bit better that year on her birthday gift. Marcus was embarrassed to admit it, but he'd asked the mediwitch what to get a girl for her birthday. The kindly woman had raised her eyebrow at him and his blush, until he explained it was for a friend from Hogwarts. She explained that girls, no matter what their age, always liked chocolate. He scoffed at Hermione's insistence that he shouldn't have spent so much on her. Sure, they were expensive chocolates, but it wasn't as if he didn't make a hefty salary. Besides, Hermione deserved a nice gift every now and again.

Excited, Marcus searched his flat for a bit of parchment so that he could write her back. He couldn't promise that he would be at the First Task, but he would definitely try.

"Marcus!" Hermione greeted him brightly the moment that Marcus stepped through the floo in Professor Snape's office.

"Forgive me, Mr. Flint, I thought that Miss Granger would be best suited to escort you to the first task," Snape said from the spot at his desk, not looking the slightest bit sorry. Marcus wondered just how long Snape had been waiting in his office with the girl and just how many questions she'd asked him while they were waiting.

He was a bit disappointed because he had hoped to surprise Hermione at the task. "Hey, pipsqueak," he greeted Hermione, wrapping an arm around her in a sideways hug.

"I was so surprised when Professor Snape told me this morning that you were coming to the First Task. I didn't think that you would be able to make it," Hermione babbled on, before grabbing his hand and pulling him from the room, eager to get a good seat for the task. Marcus was glad that she'd been a little bit surprised at least.

He'd gotten approval to go from the Falcons, as they had an International Break in play, but he'd been purposefully vague in his letters to Hermione.

When they made their way out onto the grounds, Hermione found them a seat with a good view, somewhat in between the Slytherin area and the area for the public. "You'll never guess who the Durmstrang champion is," she whispered into his ear.

Marcus wanted to roll his eyes. "Of course not, Hermione. I don't know a single person who goes to Durmstrang," he insisted. He rolled through his head everyone it could possibly be, but he could not think of a single one that he and Hermione would know.

"You'll see," she said confidently, knowingly.

He shook his head. Finding it a bit nippy out, especially without much hair to cover his ears, he pulled out the hat and mittens that Hermione had knitted him for his birthday. They were done up in Falmouth colors, and really, Marcus had been touched to learn that she'd made them, even if that explained the wonky stitching. He didn't think anyone had ever made him something before.

Seeing him wearing her gift, proudly, Hermione was about to talk with him again, only then, the first champion came out. "Viktor Krum?" he asked her. That certainly was a surprise. Marcus couldn't believe the seeker would put his career in jeopardy over something like the Triwizard tournament.

He was a good competitor, Marcus could admit. He was as quick on his feet as he was on a broom, and really, Marcus thought, he dispatched the dragon the most elegantly of the champions. He couldn't believe that they had to fight against real dragons.

Hermione chatted away about Harry Potter being the fourth champion, but really, Marcus couldn't be too bothered to care. It felt much too nice to be home at Hogwarts.

Dear Marcus,

You won't believe who I've made rather good friends with! Viktor Krum. Can you believe it? I can't believe that of all the people at Hogwarts, the one he wants to talk to is me. We actually got to talking one afternoon in the library, and now we spend time there studying several times a week. I know that you wouldn't think it by looking at him, but Viktor is quite smart. It's been really nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of, for essays and the like. I don't know why it was such a surprise to me. Obviously, he has to be talented - and at more than just Quidditch - if he was selected to participate in the Triwizard's Tournament.

He and I have gone flying every now and again, too. He's given me a lot of pointers and it's been nice to have someone to toss the quaffle around with, especially with the Quidditch season canceled. At first, he thought I might be a seeker, too, on account of my smaller size, but then he agreed about my arm. He said that the Bulgarian team favors smaller, nimble chasers - like me - and he even said he could maybe introduce me to Clara Ivanova, from Bulgaria's World Cup team! Wouldn't that be amazing?

Isn't it a good thing I am more naturally suited to chaser anyway? I mean, between Malfoy and Higgs, I never would have made it onto the Quidditch squad, and you and I never would have become friends. Speaking of Higgs, he's been acting very strangely towards me lately. I think he wants to ask one of my roommates to the Yule Ball, but I wish he would just come out and tell me who so I can help him out.

Anyway, I should get back to work. By the way - congratulations on your last game. I saw you made Man of the Match!

Sincerely,

Hermione

Marcus crumpled up Hermione's cheerful letter after reading it. After reading her glowing assessment of Viktor Krum, he felt his heart leap to his throat at the thought of being tossed aside for better companionship. Oh, Viktor is so smart AND he's a Quidditch prodigy. His mind provided a mocking voice that sounded rather like Hermione's.

He was certain she hadn't meant it that way, but he still resented the fact that Krum was more than he could be. Of course, Marcus knew that he wasn't the smartest, but he hadn't thought that it bothered Hermione. Was he constantly holding her back? And the promise to introduce her to Ivanova...Marcus couldn't compete with that. Of course, he could introduce her to all of the Falcons, but they were all as big and brawny as he was and wouldn't know the first thing about being a nimble chaser.

He couldn't help but feel as if he was being replaced. He hated Krum.

And the bit about Higgs. Oh, that made him groan aloud! How thick could Hermione be that she didn't even realize that it was her Higgs wanted to ask to the Yule Ball? Had she not remembered that she'd kissed her over the summer?

No, she'd probably written it off as a silly dare, not a well orchestrated plan by Higgs and Pucey. Merlin, she could be so naive sometimes.

Marcus hadn't even been aware that there was going to be a ball. He wished that he was at Hogwarts so that he could...what? Take Hermione? That would be too ridiculous on too many levels. For one, she was just a pipsqueak. For two, he was unlikely to find any date willing to go with him. His reputation for being a bit mean always preceded him, making him a generally undesirable option for many girls.

Though, now that he had a Quidditch contract, many unscrupulous women were willing to look past his gruff exterior.

Perhaps that was why he had such a soft spot for Hermione. She'd always looked past his gruff exterior, even when there wasn't a reason to. She just did it because she was a good friend. And now he was being replaced. By Krum.

He tossed the letter in the bin and stormed out, eager to fly off some of his anger on the pitch.

Hermione entered the Great Hall feeling nervous. Everything about the Yule Ball made her feel like she was living in a fairy tale. First, Viktor had asked her - her! Hermione Granger - to accompany him, and she'd been so giddy when she accepted. She was certain to be the envy of every girl at the ball.

She'd had the help of her roommates when she was getting ready and Daphne crafted her hair into an elegant updo after straightening it with some Sleek-Eazy's. For a moment she almost resisted the straightening potion when she remembered Marcus's response to it last time, before shaking her head. She wasn't going to the ball with Marcus, so she didn't care what he thought. In any case, he hadn't written back to her the last three messages she'd sent, so she was rather cross with him.

Seeing herself all done up and wearing the gorgeous blue dress she'd selected was astonishing. She looked much more beautiful than she could have imagined in her wildest dreams, and even her roommates gushed over her appearance. Pansy looked like she'd swallowed a whole lemon!

Hermione was shaken from her memories when Viktor approached her, looking dapper in his red formal robes. He looked so surprised, a slow half grin forming on his face. "Herm-on-ninny, you look gorgeous. Everyone at ball will be jealous of me, for taking prettiest young woman." She'd preened at his words. That was right, she was a young woman now.

He twirled her around the Great Hall during the first dance of the champions and he completely eased all of her nerves. He was an accomplished dancer, it seemed, and he led her through each step with confidence. When he picked her up to twirl her around, she felt butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Viktor was perhaps a perfect date, introducing her to his friends, dancing with her when she wanted, and keeping his hand on her lower back the whole time. She thought that the night couldn't possibly be ruined, until they were met by Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. "Well, it looks like Granger tried to pass herself off as a real witch for a change. We still remember what you are though. Nothing but a filthy mudblood," Malfoy said with a sneer.

Hermione stiffened, but said nothing. She dropped her head to shield her eyes, tears already forming. She would not give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Viktor, ever her knight in shining armor, quickly told Malfoy off for using such despicable language. Then, he guided her from the ballroom out to the rose garden.

The cool night air was a shock to her system and snapped Hermione out of feeling so sorry for herself. Once they were hidden from prying eyes, Viktor cupped her face in his large hands, using his fingers to wipe away her tears. "Herm-o-ninny, I think you are most beautiful witch, of all witches. I don't care that you are muggleborn," he promised.

It was nice to hear, and she doubted that it was the first Viktor had heard of her parentage. He dipped his head down then, pressing his lips against hers in a rather chaste kiss that she was eager to respond to.

When Marcus had settled into his ice bath after practice, he picked up a Daily Prophet to help pass the time. Seeing Hermione Granger in the wizarding newspaper the day after the Yule Ball was a shock to Marcus, icy tendrils forming around his stomach that he knew had nothing to do with the cold water he was sitting in.

She was there in miniature, being twirled around by none other than Triwizard Champion Viktor Krum. She looked so bloody happy, being picked up by that...Bulgarian bastard, his brain provided.

Perhaps the worst was seeing just how beautiful she looked. Her blue dress was incredibly flattering, showing off a form that he didn't even know Hermione had developed. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, seeing as she had turned fifteen early that year and that's what happened as girls became women, but still. It made something stir inside of him.

Her hair was gorgeous, not at all bushy and he wanted to lash out again, hating how perfect it looked. He wanted to run his fingers through her updo, make her hair wild like it usually was.

He was saved from his thoughts when the trainer walked in. Seeing what he was reading, the older woman smiled at him. "Isn't she your...special friend? The one that you got the chocolates for?" she asked, gently.

Marcus knew that she didn't mean to be nosy, but he still hated that his personal life was being invaded. Marcus nodded. "Yes, Hermione. She's just my friend. She's got a good arm for Quidditch," he said, hating the mysterious lump that had formed in his throat. He felt hopeless trying to explain his relationship with Hermione in just a few words.

"Oh, I thought that maybe...she was a little bit more than that," the healer said, bustling around the room to clean up. She kept her eyes off of his face, which Marcus was grateful for. His cheeks were a bit pink, despite the cold of his ice bath.

"No...uh, more like a kid sister," he said weakly, knowing in his heart that it was a lie. He'd never once thought of Hermione like a sister, though she did have a special spot in his heart. Oddly, he thought she was a bit more like a best friend, but what kind of professional Quidditch player's best friend was a fifteen year old girl?

"Well, she looks quite beautiful. I'd say Krum looks smitten in that photo," she said, taking the paper from him, watching as the photo looped through once.

Marcus scowled. "She didn't even tell me she was going with anyone," he said, annoyed that she'd kept it from him. He knew that he hadn't responded to her last letters, so really he shouldn't be surprised that she'd stopped. But really, this was a big deal, he thought that she would have at least said something.

The trainer did turn to smile at him this time. "Perhaps, she was nervous that you would disapprove of her choice of date." Marcus grunted at that, thinking that yes, he bloody well would have disapproved, but it wasn't likely to stop Hermione. "Well, you're done in the bath," she said, quietly.

Marcus stood, eager to be out of the icy water. He looked back down at the Daily Prophet. Really, she was so beautiful in that picture. She was probably the belle of the ball, he thought with a small smile. "Do you mind if I keep this?" he asked, holding up the newspaper.

The trainer just smirked at him, no longer holding up the charade that she believed him about Hermione, and nodded.

Marcus did feel a bit badly about ignoring Hermione's letters before her Yule Ball, so he quickly wrote her an apology letter the first week of the new year - completely glossing over the fact that he'd seen her picture in the paper. He didn't mention a word about Viktor Krum or ask her about Higgs. He was perfectly content to ignore the woman she was becoming.

He did make it known that he was coming back to Hogwarts for the second task in the Triwizard Tournament. She'd written back eagerly, excited at the prospect of seeing him, and Marcus felt better for the first time in weeks. She still appreciated him, and still wanted to spend time with him.

But then, the day of the second task arrived and there was no bubbly Hermione waiting for him in Professor Snape's office. He scowled, but didn't say anything when his former Head of House instructed him that the task was being held down at the Black Lake.

He kept his eyes wide for Hermione, but didn't see one curly hair off the top of her head. Perhaps she was sitting in the champions tent with Viktor, he thought with a scowl on his face, making him look more menacing than usual. He thought about just leaving Hogwarts all together, but then he was already at his seat, so he decided to stay and see just what happened.

The four champions - Marcus still couldn't believe Dumbledore had allowed Potter to participate - assembled on a dock and Viktor easily stood out compared to the other two men, tall and lean. A canon blew and all four champions jumped into the water. Marcus certainly didn't envy any of them having to swim through the cold water of the Black Lake. It was unseasonably cold, even for the end of February in Scotland.

Once they were in the water, it was rather boring for the spectators, as the minutes ticked by with no idea what was going on beneath the surface. All that Marcus knew was that each champion had had something of great value taken from them and hidden deep under water. It seemed as if hours had passed before the first competitor reemerged.

It was Diggory and he was carrying...Cho Chang? Marcus's heart sank when he realized just where Hermione was. Then, each minute seemed to drag on longer than ever. Would she be okay? Would everything be alright?

Just when he thought he could take it no more, Krum, with the head of a shark, resurfaced, carrying Hermione. She gasped as soon as she hit the air and Marcus felt much better just seeing her breathing. He immediately stood from the spectators benches, hurrying down to where Hermione was being looked over by a mediwitch, being wrapped in a towel by Krum.

Suddenly, he was so angry with her. Why would Hermione have ever agreed to put herself in that situation? To put herself in such a dangerous position. She could have died! As soon as he got her attention, after being photographed and interviewed and checked over, he waved her over.

"Marcus, I am so glad that you came!" Hermione said eagerly. "Oh, the most wonderful thing just happened, Viktor has invited me to come visit him in Bulgaria this summer."

Marcus knew his face was contorted in rage. "How can you be focused on Bulgaria for summer?" he demanded. He didn't want Hermione to visit Krum at his home. "You could have been killed, Hermione! You were just under the Black Lake! Why on earth would you agree to participate in this?"

She looked at him for a moment, before her lip began to wobble and her eyes turned a bit misty. "I didn't agree to participate. They just asked me to go to the Headmaster's Office and then I woke up here," she explained. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her damp clothes pressed against him.

He was angry then, on her behalf that they would include her without asking. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her body relax. He pressed a hand through her wet curls. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm just glad you are okay," he whispered.

"I am sorry I couldn't sit with you during the task," she cried against his chest, and Marcus couldn't hide the smile. Of course she would be worried about him when she should be worried about herself.

Marcus had shown up for the Final Task, the same as the other two, and this time he was greeted by Hermione once again in Snape's office. Their walk down to the Quidditch pitch was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if she was worried about Krum's well-being in the last task. Marcus wasn't so heartless that he wanted the Bulgarian to get hurt.

"I can't wait for you to see the Quidditch pitch," Hermione said quietly. "They've grown a huge hedge maze on it." Marcus winced thinking about that. Of course, they didn't spend much time on the actual grass of the pitch, but he was sure that it would be odd to see.

They made their way into the Quidditch stands and listened to the cheerful music. He could tell that Hermione was thrumming with nervous energy. Once the champions were off, they were again unable to really see anything that was happening. To keep Hermione's mind off of things, Marcus tried to talk to her about what playing for the Falcons was like. There was a lot more training involved than anything at Hogwarts.

But then, everything went to hell. Potter came back, clutching the Triwizard Cup and what couldn't be denied was a body, not even from the height of the stands. From the yellow of his shirt, Marcus could tell it was Diggory. The cheers died down quickly and became screams and cries.

"Is that...?" Hermione trailed off, not able to complete the sentence. They were close enough to Potter that they could hear him screaming about Voldemort being back. Hermione was white as a sheet when Marcus turned her away so that she didn't have to look at the body any more. She looked up at him with frightened eyes. "You-know-who?" she asked, quietly.

Marcus shook his head. "No, Hermione, it's impossible. He's been dead for years, Hermione. He's not back," he insisted. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but hearing the word Voldemort spill from Potter's lips made him nervous, too. It was no secret the kind of dealings that his father had been involved in, and he didn't want to go back to a time when Voldemort was alive.

"But then why is Cedric dead?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "Marcus, I'm a muggleborn...you know what happens to people like me." She wasn't stupid, she had read about what happened during the Wizarding War.

"The Tournament is dangerous...something happened. But, you-know-who can't be back, pipsqueak. He can't be," he repeated. Marcus didn't know who he was trying to convince - her or himself. "I promise Hermione, you don't have to worry. I will keep you safe." He didn't know if he could make that promise to the small girl, but he wanted to keep his word.

Chapter Text

Marcus hated being summoned to his ancestral home, but unfortunately, when his father called he had no choice but to show up. That was how he found himself sitting across a freshly polished table from the large man. It was no surprise that Marcus had gotten his stature and frame from his father. His mother had been tall and willowy and had none of the bunching muscle that the Flint men shared. The only thing she'd given her son was her dark colored hair.

"Marcus. I've called you here, because I feel the need to remind you of your responsibilities to this house," he said, his blue eyes shining with disappointment. "There will be changes in the coming months and I expect you to be on your best behavior."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. This meant his father didn't think he'd already been on his best behavior. He bristled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means that Lucius Malfoy has seen you consorting with a mudblood. It's not acceptable behavior for a son of the pureblood house of Flint," his father snapped back immediately. He'd come prepared.

"I wasn't consorting with Hermione," he seethed. "She was on my Quidditch team and she's an accomplished chaser. I don't see how her blood status has anything to do with her ability."

"Oh! So you don't deny that you've been spending time with this girl?" His father's question was rhetorical, and Marcus had to bite his tongue not to answer. "You must cease contact with her this instant."

Marcus couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. He was a grown wizard now, and his father couldn't really make him do anything. "Why should I do that?" he asked, not trying to hide the disdain in his voice. Marcus had never done well with authority figures.

"Because The Dark Lord is back, and any time that you treat a mudblood like a real witch is a negative reflection on this house," his father seethed.

Marcus felt his hackles raise at the mention of Voldemort. He hadn't wanted to believe everything Potter and Dumbledore were spouting about the most notorious dark wizard having come back to life somehow, but if his father was admitting it, it was true. His mother hadn't had militant beliefs about blood status, but she hadn't found out his father was a Death Eater until it was too late.

"I see you are starting to understand, now," his father said, a malicious grin on his face, showing off the crooked teeth that Marcus shared. "It will be better for the girl as well. Perhaps she can return to the muggle world if she escapes further notice. Though, apparently Draco is quite eager to teach her a lesson, if Lucius is to be believed," he added with a laugh.

Marcus didn't like the sound of that, but he didn't say anything. If his father's words were to be believed, it would be better for Hermione if he stayed away. He didn't want to bring any more attention to her than her undoubtedly brilliant marks would do. It would hurt him, and he was sure that Hermione wouldn't understand if he tried to explain, but it might be for her own good for him to leave her alone.

Hermione was excited to return to Hogwarts for another year. Last year, she thought it would be impossible to get along without Marcus, but she'd done alright. She was sure she could get through the next three years and then they could...what?

Her cheeks turned red at the idea. It wasn't as if they would be roommates or spend all of their time together, but it would be nice to attend Marcus's games or go out to dinner whenever they wanted. Not that they'd ever gone to dinner together before. That would be too much like a date, and it wasn't as though…

Shaking her jumbled thoughts from her head, Hermione was excited to get out on the Quidditch pitch. She was sure that this would be the year that she made it on the first squad. Last year had been rough, not having any Quidditch to play. Of course, she'd enjoyed flying with Viktor, but it wasn't the same as playing in an actual game.

Graham Montague had been made captain. Hermione was a bit disappointed about this, as she would have preferred Cassius Warrington, but she didn't complain. Cassius was the friendlier of the two, seeing as he's actually complimented her on her play before. Graham always seemed to be looking down his nose at her.

It felt good to fly around the pitch again, and soon all the prospective team members were split up into groups based on their position. It was a bit uncomfortable to be going against Adrian Pucey for the third spot, especially because he was one of just a handful of Slytherins who was actually friendly with her, but she wasn't going to hold back. She wanted to be the best. She wanted to win.

And not to be overly confident in her ability, Hermione was confident that she was the best. She knew that that third spot on the team was hers. If she was judged solely on merit, that is.

After tryouts had concluded, Hermione went to the showers to clean up and change back into her school uniform. It was kind of nice, seeing as she was the only girl using the showers, and one of just three who had tried out. When she was done, she was surprised to find the rest of the locker rooms unoccupied. She hadn't thought she'd taken that long.

"Granger, can you come in here for a moment?" Hermione was shocked to have Montague call her into the "office" room, but she complied anyway. Hopefully he was about to give her good news.

"You flew well today," he said, once she'd taken a seat across from him. "And I can't deny that you've got an arm on you. So...I've a proposition for you."

"Proposition?" Hermione asked, feeling uneasy with the smile on his face. Montague had never treated her nicely before.

"Yes, let's just say, the spot on the first squad is yours," he said, giving her a smirk, before leaning across the desk and putting a hand on top of hers. "If you continue the little arrangement you had with Marcus, with me."

Hermione was seething as she wrote her latest note to Marcus. He hadn't been responding to her since the end of the summer. She knew that his season was just starting up, though, so he was likely busy with that, but still, couldn't he write a few words on a scrap of paper?

But this time...this time she expected a response.

Dear Marcus,

I just had the most unusual conversation with our new Quidditch Captain, Graham Montague. He offered me a position on the Quidditch team - the first squad even - if I continue the arrangement that you and I apparently had, with him. What the fuck have you been telling people about me, Marcus? Why on Earth would Montague think that I have been trading sexual favors for a spot on the squad? I thought that you were my friend, Marcus. Why would you say something like this?

I am so embarrassed that people think that my spot on the squad while you were at school was given to me for any reason less than my pure talent. You know how much I despise bribery. Don't you remember all the complaining I did about Malfoy, who is still picked over Terence, even though Ter is a better seeker?

Just so you know, I've turned his offer down, and you can bet all the galleons in your salary that if you had tried something similar with me, I never would have agreed to it.

Hermione

She flushed thinking about what Montague had suggested. She felt a bit silly knowing that she had taken a deal with Marcus when he was just teaching her how to fly. But she wouldn't have put that to the level of bribery, though he'd surely bribed Millie to be nicer to her in the beginning.

She sent the letter off before she could think on it anymore, knowing that she would only quibble back and forth on her words. No, she didn't care if Marcus thought her note was rude. She was spitting mad, and he should know about it. She didn't even know why she expected Marcus to even respond, because he hadn't responded to any of her other letters. He was probably just throwing them all into the bin.

Hermione certainly hadn't expected to receive a letter back the very same day, but the school owl that she'd sent her note with came back just in time for dinner, swooping down in front of her and offering it's note to her by sticking out a leg.

Pipsqueak,

I promise you I have never once implied to Montague or anyone else that you have been trading sexual favors with me in exchange for a spot on the team. Don't worry about it. I'll sort Montague.

Marcus

She sighed, feeling a bit relieved that he hadn't said anything of the sort. She thought that it did seem out of character for the burly boy. Well, no, not boy. Man. She was a bit annoyed that Marcus continually thought she needed him to fight her battles, but it was nice to know he still cared.

Marcus waited for the first Slytherin Quidditch match of the season to head over to Hogwarts. He loved playing for a professional team, but there was something that couldn't be reproduced about a school game. Plus, he wouldn't lie that he was excited to see his little Quidditch prodigy play.

But, he was disappointed to see Hermione not on the pitch, or even on the bench. He felt a sinking in his stomach, remembering her words that she had turned down Montague's offer. Montague couldn't have been so stupid to actually take her off the team because she wouldn't put out for him?

He headed to the Quidditch locker rooms once the game was over to find out. Montague was found in the office and Marcus shut the door behind him. The younger boy quickly realized just what Marcus was doing there and looked incredibly uncomfortable. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Marcus asked, his voice low.

Montague gulped. "I...I just thought that I could get a little something out of her," he stammered, no confusion about what Flint's rage was about. He at least looked ashamed that he would stoop so low.

Marcus was confused. Montague wasn't a bad looking bloke. He could certainly get a girl that he wanted if he put a little effort into wooing her. "Why would you even think that Hermione and I had that kind of arrangement?" he asked, through gritted teeth. He tried to keep a tight lid on his anger, but the thought of Hermione being taken advantage of in that way was making him sick to his stomach. "She's just a kid."

Montague rolled his eyes at him then. "Please, Marcus, stop lying to yourself. Hermione might have been a kid four years ago, but she isn't a kid now. She's all grown up," he said, spitefully.

Marcus swallowed knowing now that he couldn't pretend any longer that Hermione wasn't a woman. She was a very attractive looking girl, once she'd grown into her slightly overly large teeth and her wild hair had switched from bushy to bedroom. Her brown eyes were large, like a doe and she'd definitely developed the body of a woman.

Hermione was attractive, there was no denying that. So, why did he want her to stay his little pipsqueak? He'd never felt anything even remotely brotherly towards her. It was new territory for him. Could it maybe be that he liked her more than he thought?

"Just make it right, Montague. Let Hermione on the team and I won't have to give you a beating. You know that she's the best," he growled out, wanting the conversation to focus on something other than Hermione's womanly assets.

"Don't get bent out of shape, Flint. I did offer her a spot on the team, after she refused my offer and hexed me worse than I thought possible. It took Pomfrey a week to figure out how to get rid of the boils!" he said with a grimace, the memory obviously still fresh in his mind.

"Then why wasn't she playing today?" Marcus countered, wondering if Hermione had refused to join on principle.

"Because she had detention with our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge for arguing in class," Montague laughed. "I'd be surprised if she is allowed to play again the way that Ministry witch hands out punishments."

Marcus frowned. Hermione hadn't said anything about a new Defense professor, or that she was having trouble with her in class. He wondered why she hadn't written about it, but then, her letters were becoming more and more sparse. He couldn't blame her when he never responded to them.

Still, he hoped everything was alright with Hermione.

"Miss Granger, do you know why I've given you detention this evening?" Professor Umbridge asked her from behind her monstrous desk. The room was artificially pink and covered in plates with mewling kittens. But the sweet looking shell couldn't hide the rotten interior that the Professor had.

Hermione knew from the moment Umbridge had interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore that something more was up than just having a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She never would have guessed that it was because the Ministry was trying to control the curriculum at Hogwarts.

In her first class, Hermione hadn't been able to hold her tongue when she saw that they wouldn't be performing any defensive spells and that they would only be getting theoretical knowledge. Hermione knew that she'd spoken out of turn, but she just couldn't seem to stop arguing and then Potter had joined in and started spouting off about Voldemort being back and Umbridge had lost her cool.

It was Hermione's first detention in her many years at Hogwarts, and it was a weird place to be in. Hermione was generally well liked by all of her Professors and she had never once made a Professor shout at her. It was embarrassing and it was frustrating. She didn't really think she'd done anything wrong.

"For speaking out of turn in class," Hermione said tersely, meeting the eyes of the toad of a woman.

"I am going to have you write lines for me. You will write 'I will not disgrace my house' until it sinks in," she said with a little giggle. Umbridge slid an unusual quill across the table. Hermione picked it up. "We know you've already done enough, with your unfortunate parentage."

"Excuse me?" Hermione was shocked as the older woman's words sunk in. Was she really accusing her of disgracing Slytherin house by being a muggleborn? She'd experienced a lot of prejudice, but never something so blatant from a professor and a ministry worker!

Umbridge smiled at her. "Get writing, Miss Granger. I don't have all night," she said with a smirk.

Hermione scowled, but picked up the quill and began writing. Had she really gotten detention for just being a muggleborn? She felt hot tears in the corner of her eyes, but began writing her wild hair covering her face from Umbridge's view. I will not disgrace my house.

Her hair couldn't shield her gasp, though, when she felt the stinging on the back of her hand. She glanced at it, and noticed her own handwriting being carved into the back of her hand. Those disgusting words were being scarred into her own flesh, a permanent reminder of what people thought of her.

When she made it back to her dorm, she charmed her bed curtains shut, unwilling to face the cruel smirks from Pansy or the ineffectual comforts of the other girls who would just never be able to understand.

She thought about writing to Marcus, but he'd barely spoken to her this year. Instead, she wrapped herself around her pillow and let her cries rock her to sleep.

By the time that December rolled around, Hermione was so frustrated with Marcus. She couldn't believe the cold shoulder that he was giving, after how close she'd felt to him for four years. She wondered if he'd ever actually been her friend or if it was just because she was useful to him in some way. The negative energy that permeated Hogwarts was getting to her as well.

Dear Marcus,

I deserve an explanation for why you've completely cut me out this year. We were so close but now you've practically fallen off the face of the Earth. I know that you are busy being a Quidditch player, but surely you could take five minutes to write me back once. What the fuck?

I don't understand what I've done to deserve this treatment. Do you not like me any more? Now that I am no longer useful to you because I'm not on your Quidditch team any more? Were you just using me to try and win games? Do I mean anything to you?

Hermione

She sent off the owl before she could change her mind.

Hermione wasn't sure why it was bothering her so much — the way that Marcus seemed so hot and cold with her. Really, she just wanted to know where their relationship stood. Was he her friend and could she count on him, or did he not care about her and she should move on? It wasn't as though she couldn't take care of herself, but that didn't mean she would push him away.

But what she couldn't do was keep writing to someone who was never going to write back, who ignored her for seemingly no reason. Really, yes he had a job, but Hermione was just as busy. It wasn't as if he spent each and every minute of the day playing Quidditch.

She wondered if maybe he'd found himself a girlfriend and she wondered why that made her feel funny. Of course, if Marcus had a girlfriend, he wouldn't have as much time for her. It was understandable, she supposed, as it would be the same if she had a boyfriend, but...it didn't feel right.

Shaking her head, Hermione decided to go to the library. A bit of studying would keep her mind off of big hulking brutes like Marcus.

Hermione's heart warmed when she saw Marcus's owl waiting for her at the breakfast table when she walked into the Great Hall the morning after she sent her letter. She felt a little bit silly, because she was sure her letter had been quite inflammatory, and she worried that perhaps she said something that would...

She hurried to the owl, removing the letter from the owl, unsure if Marcus would have written her platitudes, apologizing for his neglect, or curt words, letting her know that they were no longer friends. Her hands shook while she unfurled the paper, Marcus's familiar scrawl greeting her eyes.

Hermione,

I am sorry that I haven't been writing you. You are right that it takes only a minute and really I have no excuse for not having written you back. I wish I had an explanation to give you, but I don't have one except for I'm a shit friend.

I want to make it up to you, though. The Falcons are playing in London on New Years' Eve. I know that you live in London, so I would love it if you came to watch me play. I can even get you a seat in the box, if you want. After the game, we can catch up.

Let me know if you will give me another shot.

Marcus

Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Of course she would give Marcus another shot. She was being dramatic before, Hogwarts seeming so very dreary, but now things seemed brighter.

And really, who was going to pass up box seats to a professional quidditch match? She hadn't seen Marcus play with the Falcons once, so she was really eager to go. For being such a large man, Marcus was a really lovely flier and she couldn't wait to see how his techniques had changed since he'd spent so much time with the Falcons. She was sure that he was really great.

It would be nice to go out for New Year's as well, she didn't have any muggle friends to celebrate with and she certainly wasn't being invited to any of her pureblood classmates' families parties. Really, she couldn't think of anyone else who she'd rather celebrate with.

Excited for the first time in weeks, Hermione quickly wrote back to Marcus to accept his invitation, and to her parents to let them know that she had plans for the holiday. She wondered if she should tell them it was with Marcus. They had been quite intimidated by his size and surly demeanor when he'd picked her up for the world cup the previous summer.

Watching Marcus play Quidditch was as exhilarating as she imagined, though it had been a bit uncomfortable sitting in the box with the women who Hermione quickly figured out were the wives and girlfriends of the players. She was the youngest person, by far, and it was a bit awkward seeing as she wasn't dating Marcus.

Still, she kept her eyes and ears on the pitch, her breath catching more than once when she watched him playing. He was incredibly talented, she always knew that of course, but he'd become much more fluid. The plays that the team ran had her searching for the Quaffle more than once, and she couldn't wait to ask him about it.

When the game was over, she made her way down to the locker room, flashing the badge that Marcus had sent her. Several people looked at her strangely when she walked through the long hallways, but she eventually found Marcus, dressed and ready to leave, talking to the team's mediwitch.

The older woman smiled at her. "You must be Hermione, Marcus's friend," she said with a wide smile on her face, and Hermione wondered if they secretly had a laugh about her, the stupid muggleborn girl who didn't understand wizarding society. "Marcus talks about you all the time."

Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say. She was pleased to hear that Marcus did talk about her, but she wished he would put just a little bit of time into their friendship. Luckily, he seemed just as uncomfortable with the topic of conversation and smiled at her, showing off crooked teeth. "Ready to go pipsqueak?" he asked.

She took his offered arm, and let him apparate them away, only to be surprised to land at the entrance of Diagon Alley. The pub was full, but the streets were well deserted, to Hermione's surprise. "I thought that we could go out into London. Things won't be as lively in Diagon Alley," he explained.

Hermione lead him into Muggle London, surprised that he would suggest it. "You aren't embarrassed to be seen with me, are you?" she asked suspiciously, feeling on edge.

His cheeks turned pink. "Of...of course not, Hermione. I just wanted to see the revelry, and well, I thought you might be more comfortable in the muggle world," he said quickly.

It was rather thoughtful, she thought, and they quickly found a pub not far away from Diagon Alley. It was packed, but they were able to work their way to the bar, only to order drinks. A well placed confundus charm made all the concerns about Hermione's age flit away, and they pushed themselves over to a table that was recently vacated. "Well, what do you think?" she asked, once they were settled.

"It's much louder than I was expecting," he shouted over the music and voices that only seemed to get louder with each passing minute as more people packed into the pub. Hermione looked down at the table, and Marcus took the moment to stare at her face. She looked so lovely with a Falmouth scarf around her neck, her hair windswept. Her cheeks were still rosy from the cold and he was struck by how beautiful she'd become without him even noticing.

She took a drink from her pint, and he noticed the red scarring on her hand. As soon as she set the glass down, he snatched her hand in his massive paw to get a better look at the marks. The scar had definitely been writing at some point, but it was healing so he no longer could read what it said. "Who did this?" he demanded, his voice grave.

Hermione snatched her hand back. "I don't need you to defend me all the time, Marcus Flint! I can take care of myself. I'm not a little firstie anymore," she answered fiercely.

He nearly groaned at the truth of her statement. She certainly wasn't a first year any longer. "Hey, I am still your friend. I worry about you," he said, surprised by the honesty, but unable to take the statement back. "Won't you just tell me what happened?"

She nibbled her lower lip between her teeth, deciding if she should share the secret with him. "The new Defense professor, Umbridge...she gave me detention for being a muggleborn, more or less. She made me use a blood quill to write lines."

Marcus felt hot rage in the pit of his stomach. That had to be the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard, and barbaric at that. And this was coming from someone who purposefully pulled Katie Bell by the head during a Quidditch match. Knowing he couldn't do anything about it now he tried to pull himself together. He ran a hand over his face. "Please, Hermione, just keep your head down right now. Things are changing and I don't want you to get hurt," he begged.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't promise that Marcus." She stood from the table, annoyed that he'd ignored her for so many months, only to pretend like he cared so much. It felt fake to her.

He stood from the table, grabbing her by the hand. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't make a sound. She watched the tumult in his grey-blue eyes, before his eyes dropped to her parted lips. Confused, she heard the countdown to the New Year in the background.

Then, he was pulling her towards him, hands cupping her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed.

His kiss wasn't timid or unsure, but rather forceful and deliberate. Hermione couldn't stop herself from pressing back against him more tightly, pulling his lips between hers. She'd never imagined what kissing Marcus would be like, but it was more than she ever expected: bruising, fierce, dizzying.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, only that eventually their lips had parted and their tongues had met in pleasurable battle for control. And then, he was pulling away, looking more confused than before.

Hermione felt her heart drop. Sure, she hadn't known that she wanted to kiss Marcus until it actually happened, but now it was all she wanted. She could tell that he was about to say something, but she wanted to avoid the painful explanation from him that he'd made a mistake. Hermione wasn't sure she could take that kind of rejection right now.

Instead, she gave him a weak smile. "I can get back to my parents' from here, if you…" She didn't finish the sentence, but he clearly understood the sentiment. He wished her goodnight before leaving her alone in the pub.

After the holidays were over, Hermione realized that it was the first time she wasn't excited to go back to Hogwarts, where everything seemed so dark and hopeless. She'd never been so acutely aware that she didn't fit into the wizarding world, and her emotions were still out of wack from the kiss she'd shared with Marcus. It had been perfect, everything a kiss should be, and yet…

The new school term brought continued changes as Professor Umbridge was given more authority from the Ministry of Magic to make changes to the school. She'd quickly announced the formation of a new Inquisitorial Squad. Malfoy and joined and had given her a week of detention, to be served with Filch, within five minutes of receiving his shiny silver badge.

Luckily, it was in that detention that she spent a little time with Luna Lovegood, polishing the trophy room by hand. Hermione had never paid much attention to the dreamy blonde, but she seemed to be able to identify all of Hermione's myriad issues with a glance. And she'd invited her to the "little defense group" that Potter had set up.

The first time that she attended, Luna held her hand and led her into the Room of Requirement, a fascinating place she'd like to explore on her own time. Potter had been incredibly suspicious of her reasoning for joining, positive that she was a mole, until Hermione explained, tears in her eyes that she was a muggleborn in Slytherin house. She had a target on her back and she was going to stick it to Umbridge anyway she knew how.

Potter was a much better teacher than she expected, and she suspected that he was getting notes from Professor Lupin, who had been their best professor up to that point. In one week, she'd learned more new defensive spells than in the whole first term of Hogwarts. She'd even managed to conjure a patronus charm.

A playful little otter had come from the end of her wand, so bright white that it almost looked solid. Potter was surprised and asked what memory she used, as it must have been a strong one. Hermione had blushed and refused to answer.

In reality, she'd started out trying to use the feeling of flying through the air, but it just wasn't strong enough. But then, thoughts of Marcus began to bleed in. His arms around her when they shared a broom, the way it felt to be engulfed in his hug, his masculine scent, the feel of his lips on hers...

Being a member of Dumbledore's Army was a much better thing for her than she could have imagined. Ever since she signed her name up on the roster pinned to the mirror in the Room of Requirement, she hadn't felt helpless. She knew that people like her — muggleborns — were being targeted, but she wasn't about to sit by and let someone, especially someone like Umbridge, hurt her or take advantage of her.

She was taking control of her life and the feeling was intoxicating. She believed Potter about Voldemort being back, even though Marcus said it was impossible. She wouldn't be caught unprepared.

Hermione hated cliches, but she supposed in this case, one did fit. All good things must come to an end. She knew that it was a real possibility when she joined Dumbledore's Army that they could get caught. They were thwarting Filch, Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad at every turn, but sooner or later she should have known it would have caught up to them.

In the end, it seemed a bit silly to learn that one of their own had turned against them and spilled the beans to Umbridge. Hermione thought that this Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were supposed to be so loyal to one another.

She should have suspected that the blame would come to lay at her feet. She should have known that she would always be considered an outsider to them, a snake, someone who couldn't be trusted. No matter what she said, no one believed her.

Ron Weasley had been especially vicious, tearing her down for her appearance, her house, her blood status, the way she behaved. It would be a lie if she said that it didn't hurt. His insults were nothing new, but she had hoped that she'd actually made some new friends participating in the group and to hear that they all still so thought little of her.

It was times like these when she missed Marcus most. It always seemed like he knew when she needed him most. He could always be counted on for a hug or to threaten to beat someone up for her. But then, she'd told him she could handle herself.

Marcus was pretty much all she thought of while she served her myriad detentions with Umbridge, writing lines with that blasted blood quill until her hand was bloody and sore. Joining Harry Potter's group was decidedly not keeping her head down, like he'd asked her to.

Still, she imagined what it would be like if he came into Hogwarts, threatened Umbridge away from her and then kissed her hand until all the hurt just melted away. She imagined him wrapping her up in his muscular arms so that she could rest her cheek on his chest, while his fingers ran through her wild hair. He'd wipe her tears away and make her feel so safe.

But that was a pointless road to go down, Hermione knew. Marcus had kissed her, yes, but she was sure that he hadn't meant to and he'd be horrified to know that she was sitting her fantasizing about him.

Still, it was nice to dream.

Marcus had been studiously ignoring that had happened at the muggle pub during New Years. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to kiss Hermione, but it had just been right. It made him want to tell his father to go fuck himself, that Hermione was perfect and he'd fight until the end for her.

She'd even kissed him back, deepening the kiss, until he had no idea how long exactly he'd been kissing her. Time bled away and he wanted to stay there with her forever. She was tiny, but she felt so perfect wrapped up in his arms, curves pressed against his unforgiving form.

Merlin, he felt his body react still, weeks later, just at the thought of it. It was really not a good thing for him to be involved with her. Not to mention he had no idea how she felt about him. Of course, she was still young, naive. He thought he'd caught a hint of disappointment in her eyes when he pulled away from her, but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps she was trying to think of a way to let him down easily. After all, why would she go for him when she could have someone like Krum?

His father was right. It wouldn't do to bring any undue attention to her. It seemed as if she already had enough attention anyhow. He still couldn't think of that woman who had mutilated her hand without shaking in rage.

When he'd read the Daily Prophet outlining the scheme that the Ministry had uncovered at Hogwarts — Dumbledore's Army — he had been shocked to find her name among those who participated. He'd forced himself to take half a day before he wrote her a note, knowing that he was liable to say something to her that she would never forgive him for.

Hermione,

What's this I am reading about you being in Dumbledore's Army with Potter and the like? I thought you were smarter than to get involved with those hooligans. They are trouble. I thought you were going to try to keep your head down.

Marcus

He thought it was rather tame, considering what he'd wanted to write at first, which was full of sarcastic allusions to her being the brightest witch of her age. He didn't expect her to write back as quickly as she did.

Marcus,

My involvement with Dumbledore's Army was taken out of necessity. Umbridge wasn't teaching us any defensive spells in class, and I refuse to be caught unaware. I know you say that you-know-who can't be back, but something is going terribly wrong. I read about disappearances and murders of muggleborns and muggles alike every week in the paper. Forgive me if I won't sit by idly waiting until it's my turn to be taken care of. I will fight tooth and nail for my safety.

Hermione

Marcus felt a bit badly reading what she wrote. It was true that the disappearances were piling up, but he hadn't once thought about how that would affect Hermione. He knew it was selfish, but part of him just wanted to go to Hogwarts, scoop her up and bring her home with him. He wouldn't let her out of his sight and he'd keep her safe.

Like he'd promised.

Hermione sprinted to the hospital wing after she'd read about what happened at the Department of Mysteries. There was no doubting Harry Potter's claims now that Voldemort was back, now that hundreds of Ministry employees had seen him in the flesh. Headmaster Dumbledore had been reinstated and things felt more off kilter than ever.

But what Hermione was really upset about was the fact that several members of Dumbledore's Army had fled the castle and gone to fight the Death Eaters. Hermione was very put out that she hadn't even been asked to join. She blinked rapidly to keep her tears away.

She'd grown fond of several of the members and the idea that any of them were hurt made her upset. Surely, if she'd been told, they wouldn't have just charged headlong into the fray. Maybe Luna Lovegood wouldn't have been cursed by a dark wizard called Dolohov, now fighting for her life.

It was easy to find the group of students who had been hurt, as they were all clustered together. She found Harry Potter sitting next to the bedside of Ron Weasley, who had so much bruising on his arms and head. She roughly shoved him awake. "What is it?" he asked, startled.

Hermione crossed her arms. "How could you just leave me behind? Did you think there were others who might have a reason to fight the Death Eaters?" she demanded, feeling a bit silly that she was arguing. It seemed so petty now.

The commotion had woken Ron Weasley, who sat up in his bed. "We didn't tell you because you are nothing but a traitorous bitch!" he hissed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, you still suspect me after Marietta Edgecomb admitted to it?" she asked. She had been surprised to learn that Edgecomb was the snitch, but she supposed everyone had their price.

"You could have imperiused her. We know you snakes teach unforgivables like they are summoning charms," Ron argued back.

Hermione couldn't hold the tears back any more at this point. She was so disgusted with the way Potter and his friends treated her. They couldn't look past her house, or think about why she might want to fight on their side. Instead, they just wrote her off.

Before she could think of some smart retort that masked the hurt she felt, Harry Potter stood. "Get out!" he shouted at her, perhaps egged on by Weasley's words or the grief he felt from losing his godfather.

It didn't matter, though. Hermione did as she was told and turned on her heel marching out of the hospital wing. She didn't think she'd ever felt so alone at Hogwarts, and of course this was the one time she couldn't turn to Marcus for comfort. He didn't understand her reasoning for joining Potter in the first place, and he would just be disappointed in her.

Hermione slogged through her remaining classes. There wasn't much to do since she had taken her OWLs, and normally she would be fretting until she got her results, but she found that she didn't care as much as she thought she would.

Her world was in tumult and she was learning year after year that she didn't quite fit in anywhere. Her roommates were a constant, but the friendships she shared with them were shallow at best. She didn't have the distraction of Quidditch this season, thanks to a combination of Montague and Umbridge.

Even after the Weasley twins had shoved Montague into some kind of cabinet and he'd come out a bit confused and had to give up his captaincy, she couldn't even be given the spot he vacated. Warrington — the new captain — had petitioned Snape and Umbridge personally, but they had refused to give her back her spot. That had gone to Blaise Zabini.

Her friendship with Marcus just wasn't the same anymore either. It was hard enough now that he didn't go to Hogwarts with her, before the the kiss even came into the equation. She couldn't decide if she felt more for Marcus or if she just wanted him as a friend. Her heart did beat a bit wildly when she thought back on the kiss, but sometimes it seemed painfully obvious that he'd made a mistake and he regretted kissing her.

His letters were so sporadic, it was hard to count on any correspondence from Marcus. So when he wrote her first, for a change, Hermione was surprised, and a little seed of hope formed in her heart, that maybe she meant as much to him as he meant to her.

Hermione,

I hope that you had a good time of your OWLs. Who am I kidding? I am sure you passed those with flying colors. Like I said before, you could have taken your NEWTs in third year and still passed more than me.

Listen, I was hoping that I could meet with you after school is out. I can come get you from your house and we can talk at my flat, or you could take the train again if you wanted. I just really need to speak to you about something.

Let me know if you can.

Marcus

His words frightened her a little bit. What if he needed to tell her that he couldn't be friends anymore? Still, she knew she wouldn't turn down his request and quickly wrote to both her parents and Marcus to arrange a trainride to Falmouth.

The walk from the train station over the Marcus's flat was a short one, especially when she had so much on her mind. She knew it was a bit ridiculous to be looking over her shoulder at every turn, as if Voldemort would be right behind her in the muggle world, but she was so frightened. She had gotten her test results and she knew she'd gotten some of the highest scores in a century, which would not escape notice of certain parties.

Marcus opened the door almost immediately after she knocked, and he pulled her into a fierce hug, kissing the top of her head. Hermione was surprised, but she relaxed against him. Marcus made her feel safe in a way that no one else could.

He pulled back. "Hermione, I've been worried for you." It was easy to read the concern in his eyes. "Come, let's sit," he suggested. He brought her into the living room and sat her down on the couch.

Hermione was mesmerized by the place where their legs touched and she felt her heart speed up. "Marcus, I am so frightened now that you-know-who is back," she told him honestly.

"That's why you need to keep your head down, pipsqueak. Don't draw undue attention to yourself," he lamented. "I've been telling you this all year."

She frowned at his words. "Does this mean...you've known that he was back all year?" she asked, upset. He had told her that it was impossible for Voldemort to have returned, but now it appeared that he knew differently.

He winced, perhaps realizing his mistake. He ran a hand over his face. "I didn't know at the Tournament, I promise. But, my father told me over the summer. That's why I've stopped writing to you so much, because he asked me to," he explained.

Hermione felt hurt pierce her heart. "Because I am a muggleborn?" she asked, feeling forlorn.

"Yes," he told her honestly. "My father is...a Death Eater. I can't lie about that. He told me if I really cared about your friendship I would leave you alone, so no one noticed. I mean, Malfoy already knows how protective I am of you, and I didn't want you to get hurt." He touched her cheek, where a lone tear had fallen, but Hermione shrugged away.

Hermione's mind was a jumble of thoughts. "Your father is a Death Eater?" She couldn't believe she'd fantasized about being together with Marcus forever. That was an impossibility if he came from a family of blood supremacists.

"Yes, but, Hermione, I don't think of you that way, I promise. I don't care that you are muggleborn." His voice was desperate, desperate for her to understand his reasoning.

Hermione didn't know what to think any more. She knew he said he wasn't embarrassed of her, but maybe he was. Maybe his father was just a convenient scapegoat. Why would he lie to her for a whole year about the return of Voldemort and then get upset with her when she just tried to prepare herself for his return.

She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know if she could forgive him. He said he didn't want her to get hurt, but this betrayal hurt more than she thought possible. Shaking her head, she stood up from his couch. "I don't know what to think. I need time," she whispered.

He followed after her when she ran out the door, but he stopped when she slammed his front door behind her. She grimaced hearing him punch the wood of the door in frustration.

She just needed time.

Chapter Text

Hermione spent the summer consuming every bit of news she could get on the rise of Voldemort. It was clear that things were changing and the Death Eater attacks were becoming more and more blatant. She tried to read old articles on the Wizarding War, but it was difficult to get much information when she was stuck in the muggle world.

She'd charmed the front pages of the Daily Prophet so that her parents wouldn't worry. She couldn't imagine what she would do if they tried to prevent her from going back to the wizarding world. As much as she hated to think about it, she wasn't just a muggle. She could never live a normal life in the muggle world.

It did put her on edge that her parents were at risk, just from their mere association with her. She'd begun researching possible ways to hide them from Death Eaters. There was the Fidelius Charm, but she was able to admit that that was even too complex for her to attempt without proper guidance. Somehow, she didn't think that her parents would be considered a priority to her Professors at Hogwarts, no matter how much it sickened her to admit it.

Her parents did notice that she spent rather a lot of time reading the paper, which she tried to pass off as reading the Quidditch scores. It was true that she did keep up with the Quidditch scores, particularly the Falmouth Falcons.

Her father, damnably perceptive, pinpointed that at least part of her irritated mood had something to do with a boy, particularly her rather large and imposing friend. "Whatever happened to that big fellow who took you to the World Cup? Mark, was it?" he asked.

Hermione hadn't been able to hide her blush. "Marcus. He plays Quidditch professionally now, dad. He doesn't have time for school girls who can't even make the First squad of their house team," she said, sourly. Hermione had never revealed to them that her lack of a spot on the squad had anything to do with her blood status.

"Hey now, pumpkin. He seemed to take a shine to you," her dad said, a hand squeezing her shoulder. "I am sure if you just wrote to him you'd see you are still friends, celebrity or not. You could invite him to our cricket match in August."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said with a hint of finality that her father seemed to understand.

While she had been so mad at Marcus at the beginning of the summer, she quickly realized that she missed him. She'd tried to send him dozens of notes, but each and every one of them had ended up crumpled in the bin. She wanted him to apologize for keeping something so serious as Voldemort being back from her, not to mention the fact that his father was a Death Eater.

It unfortunately made her realize just how unlikely their friendship was. And it made her heart ache. Because she knew that there could be nothing more between them, no matter what kind of stirrings their kiss at New Years had caused.

He should have known that his father wouldn't leave him alone during the International break of Quidditch, a time when he was meant to be relaxing. Already, his father had been pestering him to give up the flat in Falmouth and move back home to the dark manor.

But, Marcus couldn't just ignore the summons that his father would send with a cowering little house elf. So, ever the dutiful son, he would shower and comb his hair neatly, shave the bit of scruff from his cheeks that he'd taken to keeping, and present himself for inspection at home.

Since he was a child, Marcus had realized that his father would likely never be happy with anything that he did. He was incapable of being proud of his only heir. Luckily, Marcus's mother had been quite generous with praise for her son, without spoiling him. But now she was dead and he had nothing to temper his father's disappointment.

"Marcus, how good of you to join me." He sneered, seated across the giant dining room table. The room was dark, the wax from the candles in the overhead chandelier dripping down onto the finely polished wood. Marcus wondered when his father had stopped caring to clean it away. Heavy draperies covered the huge windows, keeping any August light out of the room.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, knowing that he sounded a bit petulant, trying to focus all of his energy on just eating his food.

His father cocked his head to the side observing his son. "It's time for you to take the Mark," he said simply and without pomp, as though he was telling his son to do his homework, rather than join the crusade of a homicidal dark lord.

Marcus shook his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. I am not getting involved with this...this...war! All I want to do is play Quidditch," he said. Running his hand through his hair completely destroyed the neat style he'd given himself.

His father was taken aback by the ferocity with which Marcus rebuked him. "Is this because of that mudblood girl?" he asked, finally.

"No," Marcus said, quietly. He'd completely ruined his friendship with Hermione all on his own, but that didn't mean he was ready to embrace pureblood ideals. "I don't care about the Dark Lord," he added, though he realized that was a lie. He did care about the Dark Lord...ever since he'd returned, it had made Marcus's life a living hell.

Annoyed with his progeny, Marcus's father returned his attention to his roast. "You have more of your mother in you than I'd realized. Weak. Taken to fancy. There will come a day, Marcus, when Quidditch isn't there for you anymore. And you will remember this day."

Never one to believe in prophecy, Marcus pushed his chair back from the table, eager to leave. He'd shown up like his father had asked, but that didn't mean he needed to spend any more time there than necessary.

Hermione had been cautiously optimistic about Quidditch tryouts when they finally rolled around. She'd heard from Terence that Adrian Pucey had been made captain. While she was a bit nervous that Adrian might resent her — after all, previous captains were only too quick to point out that she was a better chaser than he was — she still hoped that he would recognize her hard work and determination after years of being on the bench beside him.

It would be nice not to have a ministry witch trying to make her life miserable as well.

Adrian, it seemed, was excessively fair, giving all twelve students who tried out for chaser a fair shake against the keepers. Hermione was excited to see that Millie was trying out to be the keeper. It would be nice to have another girl on the squad. Miles Bletchley had finally graduated last year.

Narrowing down the chasers to just six — Hermione had made the cut — Adrian had them fly formations, this time with the beaters actively trying to stop them. Hermione was disappointed to learn that Crabbe and Goyle had made it their mission to knock her off her broom with a bludger, presumably because she was a mudblood. She worried that with all of her time spent focusing on dodging them, she wouldn't be able to show off her arm.

In the end, it didn't matter, as Hermione made the first squad, with Blaise Zabini as the third chaser. Hermione could barely contain her excitement, but managed to keep just a Slytherin smirk on her face instead of jumping up and down cheering. Crabbe and Goyle made beaters and Millie got the spot as the starting keeper.

Even though they were dismissed, Hermione stuck around to watch the seeker tryouts. To her surprise, Malfoy wasn't even there to try out, which she thought was unusual, and to be honest, a bit suspicious. Terence was flying beautifully, though, and even if he hadn't been a seventh year, he was certain to secure the starting job.

"Congratulations, Ter," she said with a smile after Adrian had given his friend the good news. "I knew you'd get the spot. You fly beautifully."

Terence blushed brightly, to Hermione's amusement, but confusion. "Well, I saw you watching, and I didn't want to mess up," he revealed casually. He tried to run his fingers through his hair, but with his new, short hair cut, there were no blond locks to go through. "Though, I think if you asked everyone, they would say you are the most beautiful flyer." He grimaced at the clunky phrase that came out of his mouth.

Hermione, perhaps oblivious or willfully ignorant at his attempt at romance, just laughed. "If you say so." She bit her lower lip. "It will be nice to actually get a chance to play this time around. Prove that it's my talent that got me here and not...and not Marcus." She still rankled at the idea that she was trading sexual favors for her spot.

Terence shook his head. "No one thought that except for Graham. Hey, save me a seat at dinner? I am going to go shower," he requested. The blush that stained his cheeks still hadn't receded.

"Sure, see you in a bit," Hermione agreed cheerfully, before turning to return to the dorms so she could pick up some homework to take care of after dinner.

After months of not hearing from Marcus, Hermione was surprised to find an owl waiting for her when she arrived at breakfast, bearing a package with her name on it. Marcus was the only one who'd ever bothered to figure out when her birthday was, so she knew it must be from him.

She opened the note first.

Hermione,

I know things ended poorly between us the last time that we spoke, but I wanted you to know that I am still thinking of you, especially on your birthday. I hope you have a great day and I wish I could be there to celebrate it with you.

I heard from Ade that you made the first squad. Congratulations! I knew that you had it in you, even when you were just a little firstie. The other houses won't know what hit them after you are through with them. Hopefully I get a break in practice and I can come watch one of your games. If you'd want me to come that is.

Well, I hope you like your present and I hope that you have a great birthday.

Cheers,

Marcus

Hermione opened the package then, and a beautifully wrought hair clip came out of the packaging. It was decorated with blue forget-me-not flowers in clear, blue and green jewels. Hermione frowned. It couldn't possibly be made of real gems, couldn't it? Then again, Marcus never really had a good concept of how much things cost.

She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes, and a knot formed in her throat. She missed Marcus so much and of course she wanted him to come watch her play a game. He was so thoughtful.

Again, she remembered the kiss that they'd shared the year before, the feel of his lips pressed against hers, and his hands in her hair. She didn't know what she wanted let alone how their relationship stood.

It was painful to think about.

Still, her mind already began to think about what she could get him for his birthday. If he wanted to try to keep being...friends, then, well, so would she. This was a good place to start, a way to ease back into the odd friendship they'd created.

After getting the hastily scrawled, but still heart felt, thank you note from Hermione after his present, Marcus had been frustrated. He'd agonized over what to get her, before he remembered a fancy hair clip that his mother had been fond of growing up. He knew it would look beautiful in her hair, and it hinted at…

...well, more. He wasn't sure what he wanted with her after their kiss. She had felt so lovely pressed against him, but she was only a schoolgirl and he was a man grown. He shouldn't have pressed himself on her like that. Even if she was...his, his father would never accept it and he might even get Hermione killed.

Still, he knew that he wanted her to be his friend. He wasn't ready to give that up. So he waited for her to reach out.

He wasn't expecting the package to be delivered on his birthday. He tore through the packaging eagerly, setting the note aside for later. Green fabric tumbled out of the brown wrapping, revealing an incredibly soft sweater. He pulled off his tshirt before pulling it over his head, smiling that it fit perfectly. He wondered how Hermione knew his measurements so well.

A hint of silver caught his eye, as well, and he was surprised to find nice cufflinks hiding as well. They were not heirlooms — she was a muggle after all — but they were simple and clearly they had cost a lot. His heart skipped a beat when he thought about Hermione picking out such an intimate gift for him.

He grabbed the note and sat down on his couch to read it.

Marcus,

Happy birthday! I hope that you have an excellent day. Will your teammates do anything nice for you or will you have to practice as usual? I was thinking about preparing you a birthday cake, but I figured it wasn't wise to send via owl post, and I figured someone might have already made you one.

I was sorry to hear that you got hit by a bludger the other week. The Prophet said that your teeth were all smashed to bits! Was it really that bad? I know that they can be a bit over the top to sell more papers sometimes. They also said that you got them fixed. I am glad that they were able to repair any damage that might have happened.

I was so glad to make chaser, so thank you for the congratulations. I didn't realize you were close with Adrian. It would be lovely for you to come to one of our games. I am sure many of the others would be thrilled too.

Well, I wish that I could celebrate with you, but I hope that my presents will do in my place. Let me know if you don't like either and I can owl you information to return them. It won't hurt my feelings.

Sincerely,

Hermione

He stared at the word sincerely. There were several drops of ink, as though she struggled to decide what word to write there. He found himself scowling at the "sincerely". It sounded a bit cold and formal, didn't it? And why would he want to return her presents? They were perfect.

Still, he didn't know what to do. He thought about writing her back, but he remembered her saying that she needed time and he didn't want to push her away. In the end, he decided not to, not wanting to get his hopes up that things were back to normal.

Hermione had been so focused on her studies that she was able to dismiss the fact that Marcus hadn't written her back about the presents she'd sent him for his birthday. Sure, she could have fretted endlessly over the fact that maybe the cufflinks were a little bit too personal, but she was so busy that she'd sort of pushed him, and their confusing friendship, from her mind.

That was of course, until she read the Daily Prophet one Thursday morning. She always made a big production of reading the front page before flipping to the sports section, but today a big picture below the fold caught her attention.

"Chasing Fairchild's Heart?" The silly title hung above a picture of Marcus Flint and society witch Gemma Fairchild out on a date. Marcus had his hand on her lower back and was laughing with his new perfect smile and the witch was dressed in a tight gold dress that showed off her endless legs. Hermione felt her heart drop seeing how gorgeous the witch looked.

Shoving the paper away from her, she had to get out of the Great Hall before she started sobbing in front of everyone. Millie called after her, confused, but Hermione ran from the room and back to her dorm in Slytherin, ignoring anyone who might try to stop her.

When she got back to the dorm, she started crying, great big tears, before she realized that the room was occupied. Daphne, with her perfectly straight blonde hair, looked concerned. "Hermione? What's wrong?" she asked kindly.

Hermione felt so embarrassed that she was crying so hard. She shook her head and just walked over to her bed, trying to ignore the other girl in the room in the hopes that she would just go away. Daphne stepped from one foot to the other, obviously unsure of what she should do, until Millie came bursting into the room, shoving the paper in Daphne's hand.

She hesitated for a moment, before seeing the tears on Hermione's face, and then squared her body, sitting down next to the curly haired witch on the bed. "My cousin is an ass," she said resolutely, tucking Hermione's hair behind her ears.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I am. I am the one who got too caught up in our...friendship," she said after a great shuddering breath. A knot formed in her throat and she fought to swallow it down. "Of course Marcus has never liked me that way. He's always just seen me as a little kid."

Daphne came and sat on the other side of Hermione. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, knowing what it was like to have a crush on someone who didn't reciprocate.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know...how much I liked Marcus until just this morning?" Hermione asked. It was true. She'd always just thought of him as a great friend, but she should have realized that with the mounting affection they shared with one another and then that kiss...more feelings would develop. And, well, she was upset. She'd always felt like the only girl in Marcus's life. He'd never had a girlfriend before.

"Don't you worry about him," Millie said. "You are a smart, pretty, athletic witch. You are a catch, Hermione, and some other wizard will realize it." She grabbed Hermione's hand. Although the three of them hadn't started out as friends, over six years of sharing a room meant that they'd grown closer. "And then, one day when Marcus realizes what a colossal mistake he's made...well, you can decide where you want the relationship to go."

"Thanks Millie," Hermione said shyly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Do you think you could tell Professor Snape I'll be missing class today? Just tell him I'm sick."

Daphne smiled. "We'll tell him you're having women's issues," she said with a laugh. "He won't even try to check on you."

Hermione had still been feeling quite down about what had happened with Marcus, but at the same time she felt ridiculous pining over someone who clearly didn't see her as anything more than a friend. And a shite friend at that! What kind of person didn't write a thank you note for a birthday gift? Not to mention that each of his letters was further and further apart. Really, it was a surprise that he ever wrote to her anymore.

Really, seeing him wrapped up in Gemma Fairchild was just the last straw on a quickly shattering friendship. It was time for Hermione to move on. The only thing that held her and Marcus together was Quidditch and it's not like she was going to play professionally after school. No, it was better for her to focus on exams.

Terence had taken to studying with her practically every evening in the library. It was his NEWT year, after all, so she knew it was important that he focus. Though, he didn't focus nearly as much as he should. She often found him staring… well at her.

To be honest, it made her feel a bit nervous.

"Hey Hermione," Terence whispered to her one Friday night when they were studying. Hermione looked up, making a little noise of acknowledgement. He looked nervous, which she found odd. "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?" he asked in a nervous rush.

Hermione blinked once, surprised at having been asked. Really, she was confused. "As friends?" she asked cautiously. She had been at Hogwarts for six years and hadn't been asked to Hogsmeade once.

She watched as Terence's shoulders deflated a bit at her question. "Actually, I was hoping we could go...as a date?" He swallowed thickly. Hermione couldn't believe that Terence Higgs was actually asking her on a date. It was no secret that he was rather cute, with his blond hair and hazel colored eyes.

Hearing him call her name made her realize that she hadn't answered his question yet, and by now his face was bright red, perhaps with embarrassment that she was going to reject him. "I'd love to." she said quickly, with a shy smile on her lips.

Pleased, Terence shot her a bright grin, before packing up his books and wishing her goodnight, a promise to meet her in the Great Hall for breakfast the next day.

Alone with her thoughts, Hermione was full of conflicting emotions. She was excited to go to Hogsmeade with Terence. After all, they'd been friends for years now and as she'd thought before he was rather good looking. Plus it would be nice to be taken on a date for once.

Still, she felt a bit badly that she was going with someone other than Marcus. Shaking her head clear of such ridiculous thoughts, Hermione told herself that Marcus wouldn't care if she went on a date with anyone. He didn't care about Krum after all. And it wasn't as if the pair of them were dating or anything more than friends...maybe even less than friends the way things stood.

Deciding to have an early night, Hermione also packed up her books to return to the dorm. She was determined to have a great day in Hogsmeade with Terence.

The Falcons were in Scotland for a game against Montrose, and having a bit of free time before the game on Sunday and knowing that it was a Hogsmeade weekend, Marcus decided to surprise Hermione in the little village. Sure, things were still a bit tense between them, but surely she'd be excited to see him again, wouldn't she?

He hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, but he missed the way she would wrap her arms around his middle and squeeze him in a tight hug. Hermione was the only person who would deign to hold him that way, but it just made her more special than him.

Pulling the green sweater that she'd given him over his bulky form, he tried not to primp in front of the mirror too long. It was Hermione after all. She wouldn't care if his hair was perfectly coiffed or that he wore the right color shoes. Not like Gemma.

He ran a hand over his face at that. He never should have let Basil convince him to set him up on a blind date. He'd had nothing in common with the vapid girl who'd gone to Beauxbatons. He wasn't exactly the smartest guy, either, but really, there was more to talk about than just gossip.

Apparating into the village, he already saw loads of Hogwarts students, so he tried to find Hermione, but so far, he hadn't caught one glimpse of her bushy hair. But, he did see his cousin, Millie, so he walked over to see if she knew where Hermione was.

Millie was quite tall herself, but still not tall enough to look down at him, but he got the impression that she would if she could. She folded her arms across her chest. "Hermione? She's at the Hog's Head," Millie said with a smirk. "But don't ruin her weekend!" She shouted after him as he turned down the alley to the dingy little pub.

He should have known something was up with the way that Millie had been acting, but he wasn't prepared to see his Hermione cuddled up on one side of a booth with Terence Higgs. Her hair was straight and pinned back with the gift he'd sent her. They were sitting so close to one another he thought they might be glued to one another.

Marcus felt as though his heart was being squeezed in a vise, but he didn't know why, only that he wanted to smash Higgs' teeth in. Stomping over to the table, he didn't stop to say hello. "Pipsqueak. Can I talk to you alone for a minute?" he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione looked annoyed, but shrugged her shoulders. "I'll just be a minute Ter," she said sweetly, before kissing him on the cheek. She accompanied Marcus outside, before turning to glare at him. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I wanted to surprise you. We play in Montrose tomorrow," Marcus said with a blush, unsure of why he was there, other than that he wanted to see Hermione.

She sneered. "I thought you'd decided you were too good for me now that you got your teeth fixed." She watched as his lips formed a thin line, perhaps trying to hide those perfect new teeth. "You can't just show up here after weeks of ignoring my owls." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and Marcus's eyes were drawn to the hint of cleavage visible from her soft looking grey v-neck sweater.

And then, he was angry! Angry that she was here on a date with Terence Higgs, a spoilt little pureblood who would never see her as more than a piece of ass. "Well, I thought you'd be smarter than to date Higgs," he said viciously, wanting to tear down her happiness.

"Hm, at least Terence is more than a society witch that will spread her legs for anyone, like Fairchild," she countered.

Marcus flushed. Of course Hermione would have seen the picture. He felt ashamed. "Higgs is never going to see you as more than a dirty little muggleborn secret. So don't come crying to me when he tosses you aside after he fucks you." He detested the idea of anyone having sex with Hermione, and really it was the only time he'd acknowledged out loud that she was a sexual creature.

Seeing tears in her eyes, Marcus knew he'd gone too far. "Dirty mudblood secret." She laughed bitterly. "Seems like that's all I was to you."

Before he could try to take it back, apologize or calm her down, she was stomping away, back into the Hog's Head — and into Higgs' arms — leaving Marcus standing alone in the cold.

Trying to channel all her lingering anger and hurt from the horrible things that Marcus had said to her, Hermione spent her Quidditch practices going faster, harder and longer than she ever had. She was determined to make quite an impression on the school in her Quidditch debut against Gryffindor.

Especially because she knew that Weasley had been made keeper. There was a bit of poetic justice, she decided, in going against him. He'd treated her so poorly the year before, too blinded by his own prejudice of her house to realize that she was an asset to their cause. It would be easy to leave Potter and Weasley on their own, if defeating You-Know-Who wasn't imperative to her life as a muggleborn witch.

Hearing the crowd chanting, Hermione strode out onto the pitch feeling confident, especially with Ade and Blaise by her side. It would be nice to have Crabbe and Goyle working to protect her from bludgers for a change, as well, as she knew they were almost hyper-competitive when it came to Quidditch.

Wishing Terence good luck, Hermione mounted her broom and she was off with the whistle, grabbing the quaffle almost immediately. She knew that she should pass the ball, but it was important to her that she draw first blood on Weasley first.

Dodging a bevy of bludgers from the lions, weaving through their chasers, lead by a fierce Ginny Weasley, before she rounded towards the rings, throwing a perfectly aimed ball to the left ring. Weasley tried, but in the end, the ding of ten new Slytherin points rang out and Hermione knew she was victorious. Smirking at the stunned redhead, she flew away, hoping to catch the ball again.

The Slytherin section all joined into the mean song that Malfoy had written, teasing Weasley, to Hermione's amusement. Sure, Malfoy was a bully, but she could admit that it was clever enough. If only she could sing along.

In the end, Weasley was a better keeper than she'd given him credit for — rather thinking that he'd only gotten the spot because he was Potter's best friend. Their points scored couldn't outweigh the points Potter got for getting the snitch, but Hermione was still proud to know that she'd made eighty percent of the points off Weasley.

She rather thought that he would think twice about being so rude to her, after the absolute thrashing that she'd given him. It was hard to be faced with a Slytherin loss, especially when the rest of the school seemed so happy to just cheer against them, but Hermione tried to shake the bitter taste of defeat.

She was surprised to be stopped by Malfoy on her way to the locker rooms. He looked at her, his grey eyes ringed by dark circles from lack of sleep, before offering her congratulations. "You did good, Granger. I guess maybe Flint was right about you after all," he said.

Both of them stood there, uncomfortably, unwilling to speak, until Hermione ground out a small thanks. Neither one of them were comfortable with the civil air of their conversation and they separated, eager to get back to their own lives.

Spending time with Terence was nice, Hermione decided. Just nice.

He was more than willing to spend time with her in the library, knowing that he had his own NEWTs study to do. He was even a gentleman who would walk her back to the common room when it was curfew, though it sometimes detoured to an empty broom cupboard.

Things had progressed a bit further than just a few kisses, Hermione thought with a grin on her face. Terence was a good kisser, but it just wasn't...well, he was never quite...aggressive enough. She never felt so swept up in his kiss that she could forget what was going on around her.

Though, he was always a bit insistent when it came to his prick, pressing her hand to wrap around it, but never taking the time to see what was under her skirt. She supposed it was nice that he wasn't pressuring her to have sex, but really, she wanted a little something too.

As the school year was winding down, though, she thought about what was going to happen with their relationship. Terence would be graduating and then getting a job and Hermione would still be there for a whole year. Biting her lip, she looked over her books at the blond boy.

"Ter, do you think you'd like to meet my parents this summer?" she asked, thinking it would be good for him to meet them.

He stilled, before raising his eyes to look at hers. "Why would I do that?" he asked, seeming very perplexed.

"Well, because you're my boyfriend," Hermione said with a laugh. Was it not typical to meet parents in pureblood relationships?

Terence sighed, closing his book. "Hermione, you know we're not...in a real relationship, right?" he asked, concern clear on his face. "I mean, it's just a bit of fun, right? You're a...muggleborn. My parents would never accept it."

Hermione felt Marcus's words, his warning that Terence would toss her aside rushing back into her ears. And she was mad, angry at Terence for using her that way. He'd always seemed so nice to her.

The worst part was that she wasn't even that mad at Terence, more just mad at herself for being so naive. Was it more upsetting that Marcus was right about him or that she hadn't listened to him?

Gathering her books, she left Terence in the library, calling after her, while Madam Pince shushed him. She really couldn't have the conversation of how she was just a friend with benefits to him, when she'd been thinking he was her boyfriend for weeks.

Hermione was annoyed to find that the Astronomy Tower wasn't empty. Luna Lovegood, with her dreamy gazes and wild hair, always made Hermione feel a bit off kilter. She was a little bit pissed at Luna, knowing that she was the one who asked her to join Dumbledore's Army, so the fallout was almost her fault.

Add to the fact that Luna was wickedly perceptive, pushing you to talk about exactly what you didn't want to talk about, was a talent that Hermione didn't want to go against. "Oh, sorry, I will just go," Hermione said, wanting to be alone for a change.

Luna smiled. "No, please stay, I would like the company." Hermione hesitated at the door, but finally came inside. Turning to look at her, Luna could tell right away that Hermione was feeling down. "What's the matter, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione rubbed her hand over her face, really not wanting to talk about it, but knowing that it would likely help. "Just realizing that I misjudged so many things. I thought I knew who my friends were, but, now...I don't think I have any," she explained. She slumped to the floor, her back pressed against the cool stone.

Luna came and sat down next to her. "I am your friend, Hermione." It was a nice thought, Hermione knew, but she didn't think that Luna was qualified to make that assessment. It was the first time they'd talked in almost a whole year. "And I wouldn't give up yet on Marcus."

"Marcus?" Hermione asked. She was thinking more about Terence at the time.

"Yes, he's much better suited to you than Higgs." Luna said resolutely. "And you really must forgive him for being rude. He didn't mean to, and he was just worried about you."

Hermione rounded to look at the girl. "Are you and Marcus close?" she asked, confused.

Luna shook her head, blonde curls around her face. "No, but I can just tell by the way that he looks at you." Leaning in and whispering to the Slytherin girl, she gave a bit more insight. "In fact, I think he might just have been a little bit jealous."

Hermione shook her head, not wanting to argue with Luna. What could Marcus possibly have to be jealous about when he dated gorgeous witches like Gemma Fairchild? And as much as she hated to admit it, if she even had a hint that Marcus liked her more than as just a friend, she never would have gone on a date with Terence.

Still, she took Luna's words to heart. Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought.

While his Quidditch season was winding down — Falmouth unfortunately out of the running for the league title — he lamented the way that his year had changed. He missed his pipsqueak and her bright letters and notes.

He thought about writing her an apology note more times that he could count. He wanted to apologize for what he'd said in Hogsmeade, but he didn't know how. Couldn't she see that he just wanted her to date someone nice...someone better for her than Higgs?

Still, her words had stung too, and he knew that there was a little truth to them nonetheless. If only he hadn't listened to his father, he wouldn't have been worried about continuing his friendship with Hermione. He would have returned each and every letter she wrote, invited her to more games, visits over the summer.

Now, the wizarding world was in turmoil. Professor Snape of all people had reportedly killed Headmaster Dumbledore, something so unbelievable but apparently true. The Dark Lord was growing stronger every day and Marcus wasn't sure how much longer it would even be safe for Hermione to stay in the wizarding world.

He wished he could bundle her up and take her away from England, keep her safe, like he'd promised several years ago. They could spend their days flying together and their evenings making dinner or reading with one another. Sure, Marcus didn't like reading as much, but he was sure he'd like to sit cozied up on the couch with Hermione.

It hurt to realize just how deep his feelings for Hermione actually ran. He could admit now that what he felt was more than just a friend. But such day dreams of domesticity was a futile exercise.

He was sure that he'd ruined his friendship with her and there would be no repairing it, especially when he couldn't even put pen to paper to apologize.

Chapter Text

Hermione had been preparing for this for months. She knew that something like this was going to happen, but it didn't make it any easier. Didn't make her decision any easier. But then again, it wasn't as if it was really her decision.

Standing in her bedroom, she efficiently removed all traces of her existence from her room, neatly packing everything she could into her trunk. It hurt to see every memory that she had growing up in that home disappear. It hurt more to know that it wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be. She'd been growing apart from her parents and the muggle world for years.

It didn't stop the tears from rolling down her face when she knew what was coming next. She wiped them away, trying to give herself a pep talk. She had been preparing for months. She knew the spell. She could do it.

She thought of weekends, baking cookies with her mother in their kitchen — the one she always complained about being too small. She thought of weekends with her father, playing cricket. Her father's words of encouragement when she threw the ball.

But there was nothing for it. She didn't have a choice any more and it had to be done.

Looking back on it, it would seem easy, just a wave of her wand, and then all of her parents' memories of her were gone. They didn't know that they'd ever had a daughter, they didn't know they were the Grangers. Instead, they were Monica and Wendell Wilkens, about to fulfill their lifelong dream of moving to Australia.

Hermione couldn't go with them to Australia. She was a witch and she wasn't going to run away from the wizarding world. But, she couldn't stay in Britain either. Bane of her existence, Dolores Umbridge, had instituted something called the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Muggleborns weren't allowed to go to Hogwarts, and were to be brought to the Ministry for questioning.

Hermione wasn't stupid. They sent muggleborns to Azkaban for stealing magic, an idea so preposterous that Hermione couldn't imagine going in to be put through that. The ones who ran were hunted down like animals by people called Snatchers.

No, she needed to get out, and she knew where she was going to go. She would go to Bulgaria and stay with Viktor, until she could find other housing arrangements. But, the only problem was that she didn't know how to get to Bulgaria.

Thinking on Luna's words, to not give up on Marcus just yet, she made her decision. She would go to Marcus's flat and ask for him to arrange a portkey. Sure, they had each caused the other more pain in the last year than they should have, but surely he owed her this much.

She'd passed her apparition exam, so it was easy enough for her to pop down from her neighborhood and over to Falmouth.

The summer had gone horribly for Marcus. The changes that came down from the Dark Lord controlled Ministry put everyone on edge, sending the Wizarding World spiraling into dark paranoia. To make matters worse, Quidditch had been cancelled, so he had nothing to channel his rage and frustration into.

The only bright spot was that his father had gotten himself thrown into Azkaban before the man he slavishly devoted himself to had risen to power. He was still rotting in there, forgotten for now, and Marcus hoped that he would stay there as long as possible.

He'd moved back to his ancestral home. There was no point in staying in Falmouth when there was no Quidditch. Not to mention that he didn't want his home to fall into disrepair. He found it was much more bearable to live in when his father wasn't there. Though, he could admit that he was lonely, spending his evenings drinking by himself.

It was a stormy night when the pounding on the door roused him from his spot on the couch in the parlor, huge fire crackling in the fireplace. His house elf was so elderly at this point that Marcus wouldn't make him get up to scare off their visitor.

The pounding still didn't stop. He fought the urge to shout at his unexpected visitor, who broke his evening drinking half a bottle of firewhiskey.

He was surprised, when he finally opened the door, to see Hermione. She was soaking wet; obviously she'd been in the rain for a while now. "Pipsqueak?" he asked, incredulous, but letting her in nonetheless. "Come in, you must be cold."

Marcus didn't know how to act with Hermione, remembering all of the awful things he'd said the last time he'd seen her. But he knew that right now, he just wanted to keep her safe. The breathless way she said his name sent a jolt to his heart. He was so surprised to see him here of all places, at his home in Newcastle. "How did you find me?"

"Pure-blood Directory," Hermione said succinctly, shivering in the entryway of Marcus's house. She couldn't help but look around in wonder. It was all dark stone, cold, nothing warm. "Can I...I need your help, Marcus," she said, looking so serious, even with raindrops clinging to her long lashes. She was beautiful.

"Anything," he responded, before inviting her into the parlor. He couldn't imagine not doing everything in his power to help her, with whatever it was that she needed.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "I need to get out of Britain. Can you help me get a portkey to Bulgaria?" she said without preamble. She was sure that he would know what Wizarding Britain was like right now.

"Bulgaria?" Marcus asked her, confused, until he remembered just who was there.

Hermione nodded, her eyes sad. "Yes, Viktor will keep me safe there," she explained. "Until I can get myself settled."

"Stay here," Marcus said, without thinking. He couldn't imagine Hermione being all the way across Europe, away from him. "With me."

Upset flashed across Hermione's face. "Marcus, you know that I can't. Muggleborns are being hunted and your father is a Death Eater." She wanted to shout at him, for always assuming that everything could be so easy.

"He's gone...in Azkaban. Come on, Hermione, I promise to keep you safe. No one will bother you here," he pleaded. He couldn't let Hermione leave, because he knew then that she might never come back.

Biting her lower lip, she thought over his words. He looked a bit helpless, standing there, no matter how large and imposing of a figure he posed. She couldn't deny in his eyes, though, that he had a fierce look of determination on his face. And then, that's when she knew that he would keep his word. That he meant everything that he said.

"I..." she stuttered, not knowing what to say. She knew she shouldn't put him in this position. If someone found out he was harboring her, he could be killed. But she didn't want to leave him. "Okay. I'll stay with you Marcus."

Waking up in Marcus's ancestral home was an experience that Hermione never thought she would experience. The night before was a bit of a blur, as she'd shared a rather full glass of firewhiskey before being ushered off to bed by a concerned Marcus. She'd taken a hot shower before crawling into the guest bed that had been prepared just across the hall from his bedroom.

She blushed. Sure, she'd missed Marcus, but she certainly wasn't expecting her feelings for him to come rushing back. He'd hurt her so badly the last time they'd spoken, but talking with him in front of the toasty fire was enough to make things seem like old times.

Dressing for the day, Hermione used a charm to braid her wild hair back out of her face, knowing that falling asleep with wet hair meant that it would be unmanageable, before venturing out into the hallway. Timidly, she knocked on Marcus's door, knowing that she would never be able to find her way around this old house — a veritable castle really — on her own.

He was dressed so very muggle, Hermione thought with a grin, when his door opened. A plain white undershirt and grey sweatpants were all that were necessary for a Flint family breakfast, apparently. She shook her head, remembering that he had been living here all alone for a while now. He didn't have any reason to dress up.

Blushing, Marcus started leading the way to the dining room. "Come on, let's get breakfast," he said, his voice still gruff from sleep, sending delightful tingles up Hermione's spine. She wondered...no, it wouldn't do to start thinking about Marcus that way.

The dining room table already had two plates waiting for them, with omelets, sausage and toast. The pair of them ate in uncomfortable silence, neither one wanting to be the first one to speak. There was so much lingering tension, though, it was bound to snap eventually.

Once plates were cleaned, Marcus stared at her from across the table, a determined look on his face. "Hermione, I'm...I'm so sorry for what I said to you in Hogsmeade. I was...jealous," he explained, honestly.

Hermione frowned, looking away from his grey-blue eyes. "It's fine, you were right, actually. About Terence," she revealed with a grimace. "At least I figured it out before...any real damage could be done. But, still, I should have listened to you." Her cheeks flushed. She couldn't imagine how upset she would have been had she given her virginity to the blond seeker. Glancing up, she met his eyes cautiously. "I'm sorry too. I was a bit jealous as well. And, well...I missed you."

She watched his demeanor change as the weight of this conversation left his shoulders. They both apologized and they both were forgiven. "I tried to write to you so many times, but the words just never seemed right," he revealed, reaching out over the table to grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

She grinned at him. "It was the same for me actually."

A beat of silence passed between them again, before Marcus stood from the table. "Come on. If you are going to be staying here, you have to learn where everything is. I'll give you a tour," he said, leading her out of the dining room.

With her hand in the crook of his arm, she let Marcus guide her from room to room, making a mental map of where everything was. She practically squealed when she learned he'd saved the best for last. "And this here, is the library…"

Marcus and Hermione spent only one day together before the Ministry came. Really, they should have known that they couldn't just live in a fairytale world with one another while the war raged on outside.

He ushered Hermione up into one of the rooms in the library, before asking her to put up whatever wards she could think of, while his aged house elf answered the door for the Ministry officials very slowly.

She could still hear them talking as they moved through the house. "Have you seen Miss Hermione Granger? She was spotted apparating near Newcastle, and we know that you and the Undesirable had a relationship," a muffled voice asked.

Though she scoffed at the idea of being called an Undesirable, she still strained to hear Marcus's response. "She was? Sorry, I haven't seen her for sometime. We had a bit of a falling out as to what our relationship even was. I only ever saw her as a Quidditch player, but she wanted a bit more," Marcus answered.

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat at his words. Was that how he really felt?

"You mustn't worry, darling," a voice said from the corner of the room.

Hermione gasped. "Who's there?" she asked, whirling around. When she saw no one, she wandered over to the part of the room that the voice came from. She was surprised to come face to face with an enchanted painting of a woman with long black hair, the same color as Marcus's. Though, that was where the similarities ended. "Are you...?" she asked, trailing off.

"Yes, I am Marcus's mother, Georgina," she said with a grin, seeing the wheels turning in the young woman's head. "Your emotions are plain to read on your face. How did you ever survive in Slytherin?"

Hermione blushed. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone. And to answer your question...I suppose I got quite good at charming my bed curtains shut." She remembered all those lonely nights where she put up silencing charms to keep her tears a secret from her roommates.

"Well, as I was saying, you mustn't worry about Marcus's words," she said, with a smirk on her face. "He's lying to protect you. I've known for many years that Marcus wants you as much more than a Quidditch partner."

The brunette was fascinated by the portrait. "And you don't mind that I'm...muggleborn?" she asked. It was the first time she'd met either of Marcus's parents and she knew that his father would be quite distressed to learn that his only son and heir had any feelings for a mudblood.

The beautiful woman shook her head in the painting. "Of course not. I just want my Marcus to be happy. Whenever he talks about you his whole face changes. Even when you were just a second year, and he told me about his little pipsqueak of a friend, I knew you were special." There was a brief pause while the woman studied Hermione's visage. "To learn that you feel the same calms me. I know that you will look after him, as well."

It was a bit off putting to have a painting so succinctly define a tumultuous relationship that she couldn't even begin to describe. It was comforting, though, to know that Hermione could give Georgina a bit of comfort. "Yes, I will," she promised, feeling better than she had in months. It gave her hope that maybe things would work out after all.

Things had actually settled into a calm order in the first few weeks that Hermione was hidden away at Marcus's home, after the Ministry had finished their inspection, sufficiently convinced Marcus had no idea the whereabouts of mudblood Granger. They would eat all their meals together, and then they would fly around the grounds with one another.

The rides were usually fast, a good way to work off excess energy, as Voldemort's presence seemed to have sent the country into perpetual rain and storms. There were rare days, though, that the weather was warm and sunny, and they would take their time, Marcus showing Hermione the vastness of the grounds, and his favorite spots from when he was a child.

After lunch, Hermione would spend her time in the library, working through Marcus's seventh year curriculum. Just because she wasn't allowed back at Hogwarts didn't mean that she was going to stop learning. Occasionally she would brew in the potions laboratory that some Flint ancestor had installed, and Marcus would sit with her, in awe of how she worked so efficiently.

After dinner, they would retire to the parlor and chat, about everything and nothing. Hermione had never told Marcus about her discussion with his mother's portrait, as she wasn't sure where they stood just yet. Sure, they had apologized to one another, and things were forgiven, but it was still unclear just what their relationship was.

Were they friends? Were they more? Hermione certainly hadn't forgotten what his lips had felt like on hers in that muggle pub. Her mind was only too happy to provide what might have happened if he hadn't looked so shocked when he pulled away. Would he have brought her back to his flat? She imagined his large hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises while he held her to his muscled form.

It was hard knowing that he was just across the hall from her at night, and she often wondered if he slept naked. The curiosity was nearly enough for her to disturb him in the middle of the night to find out. Nearly.

She wondered if he had any similar curiosities about her. Though, he was likely to be disappointed to learn that she slept in practical nightgowns, she thought with a smirk. Still, it didn't stop her from initiating as much physical contact with him as possible, in hopes that one day he would make a move.

When they spent nights in the parlor, they began by sitting on opposite sides of the big couch in front of the fire, each too aware of the fragile state of their friendship to push for more. But, Hermione had slowly been moving closer to him, until she was sitting practically on top of him, their thighs pressed together.

That night, she watched his grey-blue eyes flash in excitement as he told her that he'd been contacted for trials with the England national squad. Entranced, her eyes dropped to his lips and she realized that he stopped speaking.

And then she realized that she was leaning closer, closer, until their lips were just a hairsbreadth apart. She waited, her eyes slipping closed, not wanting to see his reaction, but praying for it all the same.

Just as she was about to pull back and apologize to him for her forwardness, Marcus closed the gap, meeting her in a fierce kiss. They fit together as though they were fashioned for one another, and she couldn't stop the moan that escaped when he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, tongue pressing against the seam of her lips. She willingly opened her mouth to him, tongue reaching out tentatively to glide along his.

Hearing his answering groan made something twist in her belly and she realized she wanted — needed — more with him. Using her hands, she pressed his shoulders back, until he was leaning against the arm of the couch and she was pressed fully against him, eager to learn just what Marcus liked.

Hermione was unsure of how long they remained like that, but when they finally separated, blushing, the fire had burnt down to embers. Giving him a shy glance from beneath sooty lashes, she smiled. "I've been wanting to do that for a while now."

A broad grin spread across his face, and Hermione felt relief rush through her body to know that she hadn't just destroyed their friendship. "Why did you wait, then?" He teased, before standing up, trying to discretely adjust the erection she'd felt pressing against her hip as they kissed. "Come on pipsqueak. Time for you to get some rest."

When he dropped her off at her own door, Hermione was a little disappointed, but grateful for him setting the pace. It would be wrong to go too fast too soon, especially after everything that had happened the year before. "Goodnight, Marcus." She pressed one last lingering kiss against his lips, before retiring to her own bed for the evening.

The shift in their relationship was palpable. Marcus couldn't believe how bold his little pipsqueak had been, kissing him in the parlor. He'd been longing to do it — do it again, rather — since he'd kissed her at New Years. Seeing her with Higgs had filled him with a jealous rage that he hadn't been expecting and it had made him realize that what he felt for Hermione was perhaps a bit deeper than just friendship.

To know that she'd chosen him to come to him when she needed help — that she trusted him with her safety — had given him hope that maybe there was still a chance. But then, things had seemed to stagnate, firmly in the friendship zone. He wasn't willing to push them outside it, unwilling to have her insist on going to Bulgaria if his romantic aspirations weren't appreciated.

But then, she'd offered her sweet lips to him that night…

Now, Marcus didn't feel like he needed to hide his longing looks, heated stares and casual touches. He didn't want to push her, but he was also very eager to see where they could go, now that they had a real chance. He was sometimes worried with his limited sexual experience — he'd been with two witches before — he might not be able to keep Hermione interested. Really, she should be with someone like Adrian Pucey, who all the Slytherin witches batted their eyes at, and had the reputation to match.

To his immense surprise, though, she seemed more than content to explore with him, allow him to learn what she liked and reciprocate in kind. Their routine hadn't changed but it sometimes could be sidetracked by heated kisses.

His favorite part of every day was their evenings in the parlor. They would still talk, but things always quickly devolved into passionate embraces, Hermione perched on his lap, legs on either side of his trim waist, their centers pressed tightly together, so that with each rock and thrust, they both could feel the friction.

She was a veritable playground, Marcus thought, and he could never decide where to keep his hands for long: on her small waist, cupping her arse and holding her tightly against him, hands buried in her wild hair, or shoved up beneath her shirt, thumbs playing with taut nipples.

Marcus's lips were pressed tightly against her collarbone, eager to leave a mark to show the world that she was his girl, while Hermione's hands fisted in his hair, holding his mouth to her, unwilling to let him move an inch. He'd just begun to lift her shirt, eager to really see her for the first time, when the floo sounded, and a witch came tumbling out. "Marcus — oh!"

Hermione scrambled off of him, pulling her shirt back down, cheeks red, before daring to meet her former roommate's eyes. Marcus quickly grabbed a pillow and covered his lap. He didn't exactly want his cousin to see his hard cock through his jeans. "Millie. What an unexpected visit," he said, politely, though the rough sound of his voice made it known that it wasn't welcome at all.

Millie just stood there looking confused. "Hermione? What are you doing here?" she asked, dumbfounded

Marcus felt his heart sink, hoping that Millie wouldn't tell her father that he was harboring a muggleborn who was on the lam from the ministry. "She is staying with me for a while," Marcus said, gruffly. He gave a pointed glare to his little cousin. "We would appreciate it if you kept that fact to yourself."

His cousin's eyes widened comically, as she realized the consequences of her discovery. "Of course, Marcus...I wouldn't...not to Hermione," she reassured them. Millie gave Hermione an uncharacteristically kind smile, and he wondered if they had become friends in their years at Hogwarts.

He believed her to be sincere. "Thanks. What are you doing here?" he asked, wanting his cousin to leave so that he and Hermione couldn't continue their evening together, alone. Though, judging by how embarrassed she looked to have been caught, he didn't think they would be starting where they left off.

"Mother wanted me to invite you for dinner this weekend, with you being all alone here. You should make an appearance so she knows you are looking after yourself," Millie said, absentmindedly, before giving the pair a smirk. "Just how long has this been going on?"

Hermione's voice piped up from beside him. "A few weeks." She bit her lip, and Marcus had to focus on not groaning in pleasure.

Millie shook her head, grin on her face. "Well, I'm glad you finally pulled your head from your arse, Marcus. Have a goodnight you two," she said, smirking. Picking up some floo powder, his cousin returned to her home.

It felt better knowing that someone else knew about their relationship. It made it seem more real than before when they were just existing in the microcosm of Marcus's ancestral home. He'd gone to dinner with the Bulstrodes — his aunt was his father's sister — and nothing was out of the ordinary, leading Marcus to believe that Millie had kept her mouth shut.

Though, before he left their house that evening his cousin had cornered him and grilled him on his intentions towards "their mutual friend." Once she'd been convinced that his actions towards Hermione were genuine, she backed off, and seemed really pleased for the pair.

It led to a discussion with Hermione about just how she became so close with Millie when he got home. He'd been pleased to find Hermione waiting for him in his bed, wearing one of his undershirts and a pair of knickers. Laying next to her, the light from his bedside table just illuminated the faint pinkness of her nipples.

His little pipsqueak revealed to him how jealous she'd been, seeing him with Gemma Fairchild in the Prophet. It was nice to think that she reacted just as strongly as he did to her with Higgs. "I didn't...Gemma and I didn't...it was just a date. One date," he told her seriously, though embarrassed with his inability to tell her that he hadn't slept with another witch. "One of my teammates set us up."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath at those words. "But...there have been others?" she asked, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Marcus grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. It was important that they talked about it. "Yes, two. One at Hogwarts and one while I was on a summer vacation, but...by the time that you came to school…" he trailed off.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "I've never…" Her cheeks were bright red, and he could tell that she wanted to look away from him. "I've never had sex. Never gotten very far at all. I mean, I have...touched a boy before, but no one's...ever touched me, you know, down there," she revealed, her eyes tightly. "And only ever with Viktor and Terence."

Marcus hissed. "I don't really need the details, Hermione," he said, feeling jealousy bubbling up again.

Her eyes snapped back open. "You don't mind that...I'm not more experienced?" she asked tentatively.

Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. "Of course not. It's kind of nice to know that I'm the only one who will have touched you," he said, hating the way that he was such a caveman sometimes. Seeing her eyes widen, he tried to backtrack. "But you know...we can go at your pace."

Sitting up in the bed, Hermione grasped the bottom of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing her breasts to him. Marcus couldn't stop the groan that came out of his mouth, seeing her topless, with nothing but green knickers on. Her breasts were more perfect than he'd imagined — small and perky, tipped with dark pink nipples.

He loved the way they looked in his large hands, kneading them, while Hermione mewled so sweetly. He kissed her fiercely, honored that she would share this part of her with him, until he was throbbing in his boxers.

A tentative hand reached inside the fabric, jumping when she found the hard organ waiting for her. Not breaking the kiss, Marcus reached one hand down to wrap her hand around his cock, pumping up and down until she learned the rhythm that he liked. It felt so different from his own hand, he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting into her soft hand. He could stay like this forever, he thought.

But, not wanting to waste the opportunity he was given, Marcus let his hand trail down her flat stomach, until he was toying with the band of her Slytherin green knickers. Pausing to give her a chance to protest, he delved underneath the fabric when she didn't stop him.

He couldn't stop the groan from leaving his mouth when he felt just how wet her folds were. He couldn't believe that someone was beautiful as Hermione would want him — troll blood Marcus Flint — this much. His forefinger found her slit and entered her slowly, careful not to be too aggressive. Again, he was unable to contain his groan, when he felt how tight she was around his finger.

Her answering moans of pleasure were enough for him to begin pumping his finger in and out of her, delighting in the feel of her clenching around him. His thumb sought out the bud at the top of her sex, tentatively circling around it. Hermione broke away from his kiss, her face pressed into his neck, hot breath tickling his ear. "Oh Marcus..." she sighed.

Another finger joined his first in her sodden center, and he swelled with pride at the knowledge that he was causing her to come undone. Her movements around his cock were getting sloppier, but he didn't care. He was so close, just imagining what it would feel like to be inside her.

Hermione tensed, and he worried that he might have hurt her, until she bit down on his shoulder to contain a cry, her walls fluttering around him in orgasm. The sensation was heady even for him, and in a few more pumps of his hips, he was coming too, sticky spurts landing on her hand and his belly.

They lay still, breathing softly for a few moments, until he could move himself enough to kiss her forehead. "Thank you for letting me be the first one to touch you," he said sincerely. She gave him a shy smile, full of emotion.

Pulling her head to rest on his shoulder, Marcus wrapped his arm around her, loving how she felt pressed against him. Hermione slid her arm over his finely muscled stomach, fingers teasing with the bit of chest hair he had. He smiled, feeling content. "I wish I could have you in my bed every night," he admitted.

He felt Hermione smiled against him. "Maybe you will get your wish," she whispered back.

Sharing the ancestral home of the Flint family with just Marcus was a fantasy that Hermione was only too happy to stay in. She knew it was wrong, but when they were alone, she could almost imagine that the Wizarding World wasn't in turmoil, that You-Know-Who wasn't trying to eradicate her kind. But, she should have known that such a delicate fantasy couldn't exist undisturbed.

In hindsight, it was good that they'd had any advanced warning that Marcus's father was finally being released from Azkaban. Marcus would have to go and collect him after all. It gave them a chance to argue over whether Hermione would continue to stay with him. Hermione thought it was too dangerous, but Marcus assured her that his father would never realize that she was there. He never strayed into Marcus's part of the house and he would keep her safe. He couldn't fathom letting go of her now that so much had changed between them. Now that he loved her.

It also gave them time to clear out any evidence of her existence. Luckily, she'd been sharing Marcus's room every night already so it was easy to return the guest room to its original state. His ancient house elf agreed to bring her food and keep her existence a secret — an order Marcus gave on pain of death, though he would never tell Hermione. The house elf liked Hermione enough that he agreed without any grumbling.

Hermione could spend her days in the secret room in the library, Marcus told her, and he would join her when he could. His father wouldn't dare to enter the room, he promised, because of the epic rows he still could be pulled into with his late wife. Hermione admitted that she wouldn't mind spending time with Georgina's portrait, either.

But then the day finally came, and Marcus dutifully went to retrieve his father. He was surprised by how frail the once imposing man seemed. His father could no longer meet his eye, hunched as he was, and when he breathed, it sounded like a death rattle. His father was still a proud man, though and would never admit that his health was failing.

As soon as he entered the hallowed grounds of his family's home, Marcus's father didn't stop from calling the house elf. "Elf! Has my son had any visitors while I was away?" he demanded. Marcus barely contained a snort at the idea that he'd been "away" and not in prison.

He watched as the ailing elf furrowed his brow and ran unnaturally long fingers over his chin, as though he were trying to remember back through all of the months. Then its face lit up. "Yes, master. Miss Millicent Bulstrode did stop by."

His father turned to look at him, a hint of a smile decorating his face. Marcus prayed he didn't notice the palpable relief he felt that his secret wasn't discovered. Yet.

"Excellent. Well, Marcus, we really must talk about your duty to this family. After all, Quidditch has been cancelled. You will need to find something to occupy your time. Surely someone has reached out to you while I was away. Malfoy perhaps?" he wondered.

Marcus sneered, but shared the gossip he'd gleaned from dinner with the Bulstrodes. "Malfoy has fallen out of favor. And I am perfectly capable of finding ways to occupy my time on my own," he insisted.

Then he turned to go out for a ride, leaving his father standing in the entryway, gaping.

With Hermione wrapped up in his arms, Marcus didn't want to get up out of the bed. She looked so sweet while she was sleepy, no hint of the fiery witch she was reflected in her relaxed features. She had a few freckles on her nose and cheeks, from the limited sun that they'd gotten that summer. Her nose fit her face perfectly and he loved to stare into her big brown doe eyes. But her lips...Merlin her lips were enticing, pink and plump. Her lower lip was slightly larger than her upper one, giving her a perpetual pout. And now that he knew just how wonderful they felt wrapped around his cock. It was enough to drive a man mad.

He lifted a thumb to trace along her bottom lip, only to laugh when her nose scrunched up in annoyance. "Stop it Marcus, that tickles," she whined, still sleepy and unwilling to get up.

"Come on pipsqueak. Father has visitors today, so we must be on our best behavior," he said, kissing her temple and pulling back the covers. "It would be wise to stay in the study room until I come to get you in the evening."

Hermione nodded and quickly changed, before allowing Marcus to apparate her over to the library. He left her with a lingering kiss on the lips. He then apparated downstairs to the parlor to meet his father. The Malfoys — Lucius and Draco — arrived for their scheduled tea looking like a pair of kicked dogs. Lucius looked like he'd given up on shaving all together and Draco had dark rings around his eyes.

Why Marcus's father thought he would willingly sign up for that was beyond him.

They sat talking about the state of the wizarding world for nearly an hour, until the tea went cold, and Marcus was antsy with excess energy. He wanted to go for a fly, but couldn't think of a good enough reason to excuse himself. But then, Lucius got down to the real reason that they were there. "The Dark Lord is looking for any extra aconite that families might be willing to part with. We've come to inspect your stores ourselves," he informed the Flints. He had a tight smile on his face, but stood from the couch. "If you'd lead the way."

Marcus's father was falling over himself to let Lucius know that the Dark Lord could have anything that he wanted from the Flint stores, and he was still blustering when they opened the doors.

And that's when Marcus realized their mistake. There were half a dozen potions brewing, left in statis, that Hermione had been unable to complete. "Brewing again, Marcus?" Draco asked, confused.

Marcus's father just took one look at the room, before his face flushed red and he rounded on his son, finger pointed in his face. "You! You tricked me! I thought that you'd gotten rid of that mudblood. But, she's been here this whole time. Malfoy, my son has been harboring a fugitive. Help me find her."

Lucius smiled, a hollow look on his face, before leading his son in one direction, trying to find Hermione. Marcus's father led him in the direction of Marcus's bedroom, dragging his son all the way. "Let's just see. Is that little whore hiding in your bed?" he demanded.

The door blasted open and Marcus fought to keep his face impassive while his father tore through his room. He was grateful that all of Hermione's things were tucked away in a Slytherin Quidditch bag — an undetectable extension charm hiding its secrets — so it didn't appear out of place. He relaxed when his father let out a roar of rage.

"She isn't here. She's never been here," Marcus said calmly, hoping to convince the man.

Meanwhile, Lucius and Draco were walking through the halls, clearing room after room, but Draco wasn't nervous until he got to the library. If Granger was hiding here, this is likely where she would be. "You check the first level. I'll check the mezzanine," he whispered to his father, before walking up the stairs.

There were a series of rooms on this level and he opened one after the other. He opened the final door, but a telltale shimmering caught his eye. "Finite," he whispered, cancelling Hermione's disillusionment charm.

She was standing there, cowering in the back corner of the room, tears in her eyes and obviously scared out of her mind. She pleaded with him silently, mouthing the word "please." She looked so pitiful, Draco felt his heart clench in misery.

"Anything up there?" his father called from the first level.

Draco swallowed thickly, knowing that he had to make a decision. "No father, we are all clear up here," he shouted over his shoulder. He nodded at Hermione, before closing the door behind him, wishing that she would stay safe for just a while longer.

When Marcus retrieved her from the room that night, it was already well into the evening. He apparated them back to his room, before pressing a desperate kiss against her lips. She pulled away, staring at his face, which currently sporting an impressive black eye. "He hit you?" she asked, upset that anyone would try to hurt...the man that she loved.

Marcus nodded. "He was very annoyed that we couldn't find you. Lucius had to convince him that there was no one here. He still didn't believe me though." Really, Marcus was impressed that his father still had the strength to do any damage at all. "How did you keep hidden anyway?"

Hermione frowned. "I didn't...Draco — he discovered me, but he...he told his father that I wasn't in the study room," she explained. She didn't know why Draco had decided to keep her hidden, but she was grateful to him. She hoped that she would get the chance to thank him properly one day. Tears had welled up in her eyes and one finally slipped free.

Marcus used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the moisture, before wrapping her in a tight hug. "Oh, pipsqueak, don't cry," he begged. He hated seeing Hermione cry.

She laughed into his chest. "I just don't like that you were hurt because of me. You are putting yourself at such risk and I just…" she took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "I love you so much, Marcus."

He pulled away so that he could look at her eyes, in awe of her statement. He looked for any doubts she might have, but he saw nothing but love and affection shining back from them. "Hermione," he groaned, wrapping her tiny body in his arms again. "I love you, too."

Marcus watched as her face lit up when he returned the sentiment, feeling as though his heart just might beat right out of his chest. He didn't think it was possible to feel this much for another person, but he did. He put Hermione's happiness before his own, but he was so fucking glad that he was what made her happy.

She launched herself at him in a frenzy of kisses, pushing on his shoulders until he was falling back on the bed and she was perching herself on top of him. Grabbing her wand from the back pocket of her jeans, she cast a silencing charm on the room, and a contraceptive charm on herself, before setting it on the bedside table. He groaned, his cock pressing against his zipper, straining to get free.

They had been intimate before, but had never crossed that final line. Marcus knew that she was a virgin and didn't want to push her into something she didn't want, but it didn't stop him from dreaming about it. But now...now, he knew that they were finally going to go all the way, as neither one of them could fathom being separated again.

He helped Hermione undo the buttons holding his shirt together, before pulling his arms free so that his muscled chest was bared to her. Then, he helped her pull her shirt up over her head and unclip the bra keeping her perfect breasts from his view. She looked like a nymph on top of him, the most beautiful girl in the world. He wanted to tell her as much, but he was cut off by her lips.

She moaned while his scratchy chest hair tickled her nipples, hard little points against his body. His hands held her hips, grinding her against him. It felt so amazing and he was so hard for her, he needed to get a hold of the situation before he embarrassed himself by coming in his trousers.

He flipped her over onto her back, an arousing little gasp leaving her mouth. She would never admit it, but he knew Hermione enjoyed the little acts he did to show off his superior strength. He watched as she bit her lower lip, watching the muscles in his arms shift while he worked to pull off her jeans, taking her knickers with them.

Marcus wet his lower lip, looking at her, spread before him like a feast. He used one hand to hold down her eager hips, while the other palmed his cock through his pants. Unwilling to resist her any longer, he settled his broad shoulders between her thighs, his tongue pressing against the little button at the top of her sex.

Hermione squealed, her hands buried in his short hair, awash in the sensation of his lips wrapped around her, sucking on her clit. No matter how many times he did this, Marcus didn't think he would ever tire of the feel of her coming apart beneath him. The muscles of her thighs would shake in desire, until she would go rigid. Then came the fluttering pull of her walls around his tongue or fingers. She came with a wail of his name every time.

He licked the sweetness from her lips, letting her come down from the orgasm at her pace. Hermione tapped on his shoulders, pulling him up, until he waited on his knees. "Please Marcus. I want...I want you inside me," she whispered so sweetly.

This time he didn't try to contain his groan when her deft fingers undid the fastening of his trousers, pulling them down over trim hips, his impressive erection bouncing free between them. He watched as she wrapped her hand around him, pumping up and down, making him groan. Leaning over, he covered her body with his, pressing his lips against hers, letting their tongues meet in a lazy caress.

He pulled back, pushing her hair from her eyes. "Are you sure, Hermione?" Merlin, Marcus wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything, but he needed to be sure. There was no going back after this. Not for him, anyway.

She smiled at him, nodding, and biting her lower lip. He lined his cock up with her wet slit, before pushing forward slowly, only to be engulfed in heat. She felt like heaven, once he was fully seated inside her, he took a moment for her to adjust to his size, at the same time trying to calm himself down.

After several moments, she gave his shoulders a little squeeze and moved her hips against his insistently. Pulling back out, he surged forward again. Hermione moaned, before giving him a shy little smile. It felt better than either one of them could ever imagine. Setting a gentle pace at first, Marcus reveled in the feel of her hands holding onto his back, blunt nails digging into his skin.

Eyes clenched in concentration, Marcus slipped one hand between them to circle the button at the top of her sex, wanting, needing her to come apart around him. Hermione, instinctively, wrapped her legs around him, eager to get him deeper into her. He thrust harder, delighting at each moan he could pull from her lips. Then, she was snapping around him, her cunt pulsing rhythmically, and pulling him over the edge as well.

He couldn't stop the groan of her name as he came, his face buried in her wild hair, lips pressed to her neck, while his hips pumped through the orgasm.

When his heart rate and breathing had finally returned to normal, he propped himself up, kissing her lips. "I love you, Hermione," he told her again, so happy to have this even if they were in hiding. He just hoped that someday soon he wouldn't have to keep Hermione hidden away.

He rolled over, pulled her to his chest.

"I love you, too, Marcus," she answered, with a wistful sigh.

His father sneered at him when Marcus declined to join him in fighting to bring down Hogwarts and the rebels when what could only be described as the Final Battle was beginning. "Just know, Marcus, the Dark Lord will notice your absence. And I am done defending your inexplicable disloyalty," he said with a sneer. He left the breakfast table to join the fighting, talking about taking a second wife to procure a new heir.

When he left though, he did rush to Hermione to let her know that it was all coming down now. "We should go," Hermione said insistently. "I know a tunnel from Hogsmeade to get into the castle. We should fight."

Marcus paced back and forth in front of his bed, hands over his face. He wanted nothing more than to continue to hole up here with Hermione. "I just want you to be safe. I just want to keep you safe Hermione," he argued, hating the idea that she might get hurt or killed.

She had tears in her eyes. "I need to do this, Marcus. I'm a muggleborn, if I don't fight now, then I will never have the life I deserve," she countered. Wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. "Don't you want a life outside of this room?"

He kept his eyes closed, knowing that he was already going to go with her. That he was already going to agree to fight with her. For her. "Okay, let's go," he agreed.

Once they apparated into Hogsmeade, they found the village empty. Honeydukes was easy to break into and Hermione led him through the cellar and through a tunnel, until they came out behind the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. "How did you find this?" he asked, amazed.

"Potter has a map," Hermione said absentmindedly, not really explaining, but was quickly distracted by the rush of students moving through the halls. Hermione tried to figure out what was happening, where they could go and how they could help, when they bumped into Luna Lovegood.

The fey girl squeezed Hermione's hand. "Hermione! I am glad you are looking well," she said with a smile before her face turned serious. "Come on, we are trying to find the lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw." Marcus wasn't sure how, but he was following the pair of girls through the hall, headed to the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"Why do you need it?" Hermione asked, confused.

"I don't know, but Harry told me to look for it. Ron and Neville went into the Chamber of Secrets," Luna said, a bit breathless. They searched the blue common room, using all manner of revealing spells and summoning charms, only to come up empty handed. The three of them left, disappointed, only to run into Harry Potter.

"Luna, it's in the Room of Requirement," he said in a rush, before noticing the two people standing with her. He looked concerned for just a moment, before he shook his head, knowing that they were going to help. Still, Flint looked so large and awkward next to the two smaller girls. The massive Quidditch player took an unconscious step closer to Granger under his scrutiny.

"Can you find it? You will have to destroy it, somehow. Regular spells won't work. I have to go find the snake!" he asked his friend, unable to do it himself.

Luna and Hermione nodded, before racing off to the Room of Requirement, with Marcus in tow. He was amazed by the room that was revealed to him, not having known what to expect. It was so full of junk, it felt impossible that they should ever find a fancy sort of tiara.

They barely got halfway down one of the long walkways in the room, when they were met by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione, perhaps feeling some kind of new found camaraderie with Malfoy, greeted him. "Malfoy, we are looking for a diadem, a blue kind of tiara," she described.

"What the fuck, mudblood? Do you really think you can demand things from us?" Crabbe asked, puffing his chest out, sneering at Hermione.

Goyle just leered at her. "Though I can see why you'd want to dip your wick, Flint," he added, grinning.

Marcus was sick of people talking down to Hermione and initiated a duel with the wizard. Malfoy stood by feeling helpless. He no longer had control over his two lackeys. But he did know where the diadem that they were looking for was. They'd seen it once before. He stared at Hermione wanting to tell her, only to be shocked back into action when he heard Crabbe casting a fiendfyre.

What an idiot.

The five of them got out, flying on brooms that Draco passed them, before picking Luna Lovegood up and flying them through the flames, chasing them, like sinister black ink, a specter of Voldemort. When they slid to safety out in the hallways, the doors just barely closed behind them. Marcus laid on the ground, holding Hermione to him, unbelieving that they'd survived that.

Hermione sat up. "Malfoy, would that have destroyed the diadem?" She asked, biting her lip. She told Potter they would get rid of it, and she wanted to keep her promise.

Malfoy, suddenly realizing that Crabbe hadn't made it out, nodded. "Absolutely. Fiendfyre destroys everything," he promised.

Marcus couldn't believe that it was over. That it was really truly over. The Dark Lord was dead and Harry Potter had survived. Well, Potter had died, but then he'd come back to life and the fighting resumed. Longbottom had killed that giant, creepy snake.

Marcus and Hermione had both come through numerous duels successfully. He'd seen his father fall to Professor Lupin. He knew that he should feel something for the man, but really, he was just too tired to care at this point. Marcus had killed two men himself, and he'd seen Hermione kill at least one. He hoped that it didn't tear her up inside — the Death Eater would have killed her if she hadn't.

He'd saved people too. Marcus had protected Lupin's back when Dolohov had snuck up from behind him. Hermione had saved one of the Weasley twins as well, sending a bubble charm to protect him from being crushed by a wall.

All around them there were tears, hugs, celebration. Surging forward, he wrapped his pipsqueak up in a tight hug, refusing to let her go. A hand on either side of her face, he tilted her head up so that he could kiss her, pouring all of the emotion he could into her. He was so happy, his mind was spinning with promises of the future, a future with Hermione.

He didn't know what she wanted, but he was willing to give her whatever she wanted. Breaking away, he smiled down at her. "Ready to go home?" he asked her, hoping that she would continue to think of his home as hers.

Chapter Text

The trials seemed to stretch on endless for weeks. Instead of bringing closure to a society that wanted to heal, they just seemed to keep picking at the wound that was left by the Dark Lord. There were some people that Marcus was only too happy to see sent to Azkaban — Lucius Malfoy, the Lestrange brothers — but many others he wished were given a better shake. He hated the way that people just assumed all the Slytherins were Death Eaters. He'd even been questioned by Aurors, to Hermione's immense annoyance, only to be let go when he showed a clean arm.

He sat with Hermione, watching proudly as she argued that Draco Malfoy didn't deserve to go to prison, tirelessly defending a boy who'd been so cruel to her at the beginning of her school career. He held Millie's hand while her father was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Just because Millie's father was a terrible man didn't mean that he stopped being her father. He could understand why she would be upset.

After a month of this same circus, he knew he needed to get Hermione away from the despair and give her a little hope. The Ministry of Magic was too overrun to issue any International portkeys, so they'd taken a muggle aeroplane to get to Australia. It had been quite the experience for Marcus, but Hermione's quiet assurances that everything was going to be alright calmed him enough to get through the long journey.

Her parents had been upset at first, at having their memories stolen, at Hermione keeping it secret just how bad the Wizarding World had gotten. But mostly, they were just glad to have her back, to have her safe, to have her happy.

Her father had approached him, surmising that he probably had Marcus to thank for his daughter's happiness. Then, he'd received a rather specific list of things that would happen to him if he ever harmed a hair on Hermione's head. Marcus didn't know that muggles could be so creative with the ways they could hurt someone. In any case, Marcus didn't have any plans to hurt Hermione. He loved her.

Her parents quickly began making arrangements to return to England, extracting a promise from Marcus that he would at least try to play cricket. Seeing the look of pure amusement on Hermione's face was enough to make Marcus worry just what he'd gotten himself into.

Hermione wanted to go back to Hogwarts to take her seventh year and her NEWTs. Of course she did. It was an annoyance to Marcus, having grown used to spending the majority of the waking day with his pipsqueak, and every night falling asleep wrapped around her tiny frame. The thought that she was about to go back to a lonely twin bed in Slytherin house hurt his heart.

Not that he'd ever dream of trying to stop her. He'd always known that education was incredibly important to Hermione and he didn't want to hold her back from whatever she wished to do.

He knew that she was feeling conflicted about it herself, so he'd tried to be as supportive as possible. It wasn't until he'd gotten some truly good news that he finally figured out a way to lift her spirits. "I have some good news," he told her over dinner one night, after she'd returned from an arduous day of helping repair the Hogwarts' library.

"Oh?" she asked, shoving green beans around on her plate, clearly in conflict.

"They've decided to resume Quidditch. I had trials today with Montrose," he said, unable to hide his smile when she looked up, elated. "They've offered me a spot on the starting squad." He couldn't hold in a laugh when she squealed, rushing around the table to pepper his face with kisses.

Perched in his lap, she leaned back, love and adoration in her eyes. "Montrose in Scotland? You'll be so close," she said, over the moon.

Marcus nodded. "Exactly. I can come visit you every day after practice. Take you to some Hogsmeade weekends. Maybe you could even come to my games." As a returning student, the rules were really quite relaxed. They were all adults after all.

"I'll have to write to Professor Snape. I hope he will still allow me to use the floo in his office," Hermione said, already creating a mental to-do list of everything she would need to get sorted. After an embarrassing expose, it was clear that Snape was a hero, and Headmistress McGonagall had offered him his teaching job back. He agreed to continue there — as potions master — in order to get out of the limelight. "Oh, I know it won't be the same, but it's just a few months and then we can go back to normal," she said in a rush.

"Pipsqueak, I would wait for years if it meant I got you in the end," he said, thanking Merlin or whatever entity sent Hermione to him. If she hadn't thrown a book at his face all those years ago, he never would have been this happy.

Marcus wasn't able to get to as many Hogsmeade weekends as he wanted to. The Montrose fixture schedule was really quite aggressive. They wanted to make it the best season yet. Hermione told him not to worry, as she would usually just go with Luna and Millie. Sometimes Draco would meet up with them, too. "He's completely smitten with Luna," she revealed to him with a barely hidden grin.

Knowing that she wasn't lonely made him feel a bit better. Really, he was glad that she had a few good friends, though he found Luna completely batty. If they made Hermione happy, he could put him with them. Millie was always pressuring him to make an honest witch of her friend. "It's only proper after living in sin for a whole year, Marcus," she would hiss at him.

He argued back that Hermione didn't want to be the only witch with a husband at Hogwarts.

It was one of the few weekends that he could actually visit, but he wanted to keep it a secret from Hermione. The league was on an international break — England had no chance of fielding an international squad this year, but he thought with an aggressive approach, they could be ready for the 2002 World Cup.

Hermione was easy enough to pick out of the crowd — his eye just always seemed to be drawn to her — but he was disturbed to see her talking to Terence Higgs. Wanting to see how it played out, he snuck over to try and hear what they were saying. There was always a part of him that worried that Hermione would prefer a handsome boyfriend like Higgs.

"I disagree, Higgs. It's decidedly unpleasant to see you today," Hermione said, her arms crossed over her chest, face in a perfect Slytherin sneer.

"Come on, Hermione, now that the war is over, I thought you and I could give it a real go," Higgs tried to goad her, running a hand through his long blond hair. He couldn't really pull off the same look that Draco did.

Hermione shook her head. "I have a boyfriend. But even if I didn't I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole after the way you treated me," she said tartly. Marcus could see the blue energy crackling at the ends of her hair, which usually suggested she was exceptionally pissed off.

Terence didn't seem to get the hint, because he was putting his hand on Hermione's shoulder. Marcus had seen enough, revealing himself to the younger boy. "Higgs. Hands off my girl," he said, before swinging his fist and grinning when he caught Terence's jaw, leaving a purpling bruise.

Shouting and a few hexes followed, before Hermione put an end to the duel between the two men. But, by that point Aurors had shown up. Marcus sat next to Higgs in magical handcuffs, while watching Hermione talk enthusiastically to trainees Weasley and Potter.

Weasley walked over, letting Marcus free. "Alright Flint. This is your one free pass, okay? Granger said you were just looking after her, but please, do refrain from dueling in public in the future."

He eagerly returned to his girlfriend's side, watching her hesitantly shake an offered hand from Potter. He knew they hurt her probably as much as anyone, so it wasn't likely to ever be a deep friendship. He hated that they only even gave her a chance because she'd saved Fred Weasley.

When they were gone, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing. "Marcus, I didn't think you were going to be able to come," she said pleased, letting him plunder her mouth in a fierce kiss. "Come, let's go get a butterbeer with the others."

After Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts with eleven NEWTS — really Marcus still couldn't wrap his head around how smart she was — she was heavily recruited by several offices in the Ministry of Magic including the Auror department and Magical Law. She'd even been offered a position as in the Curse Breaking training program with Gringotts.

His girl could have done whatever she wanted, but in the end, she decided to have the best of both worlds, and accepted the offer from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, working in the Quidditch League Headquarters. To prevent impropriety, they had to disclose their relationship formally, and Hermione couldn't work directly on any initiative with the Montrose Magpies.

Their relationship took the wizarding world by storm. They hadn't exactly been keeping their relationship secret, but they hadn't been shouting it from the rooftops either. A leak in the Ministry revealed Hermione's mailing address to be his home and the press just ran wild. Most people were highly complimentary, holding their relationship up as some kind of perfect relationship, and wasn't Marcus just wonderful for choosing to ignore her muggleborn status? That always rankled him, mostly because he thought it was Hermione who was too good to date him, not the other way around.

On the other hand, it had gotten his Aunt Ursula on his case, along with Millie about making an honest witch of Hermione. Even Draco Malfoy — who had been dating Luna Lovegood for three months when he proposed — was trying to convince him to pop the question.

It wasn't that he didn't want to ask Hermione, he just wanted to make it special for her. He'd had a ring picked out for a while now, too. But, there was also a small part of him that thought his relationship so fragile that if he rocked the boat too much, she might decide he wasn't worth the trouble. Besides, they already lived together, so how much could it change, really?

No, it was much better to leave things as they were.

He still got to share breakfast with Hermione every morning, in their newly redecorated dining room. Then they would Floo off to their separate destinations — him to Montrose and Hermione to London. He would be waiting for Hermione every night when she got back, and he still got to fall asleep every night with his arms around her. It was perfect.

Marcus had been planning this particular dinner for weeks. Hermione had been working her arse off to get the England International squad into the World Cup qualifying and she would hear today if she'd been successful. He knew just how hard she'd been working all summer, and he really hoped that he would be able to celebrate with her, rather than commiserate.

That was why he'd spent time in the kitchen with his old house elf, desperately trying to learn how to make a chicken roast that would pass at dinner. Honestly, he was pretty sure that there was some elf magic in play when the big day actually came because he wasn't sure he could have pulled it off without it burning or not cooking all the way through. But the dinner that was on the table actually passable, served with a nice bottle of red wine he'd picked out.

Dressed in a nice shirt — one that actually fit his muscular upper half — he intercepted Hermione when she flooed home for the evening, ushering her into the dining room, and pushing away her requests to just go change out of her work clothes. Seated across the table from her, with a smile on his face, he poured her wine. "How did it go?" he asked, finally, realizing that she hadn't said anything yet, which surprised him. Usually he couldn't get Hermione to stop talking about work.

She stared at the empty plate in front of her. "How did what go?" she asked, looking a bit distracted.

Marcus couldn't hold back his laugh. Surely she must be joking. "The presentation to EUQA? For the qualifying matches?" he prodded.

Hermione met his grey blue eyes suddenly. "Oh. That. Well, we got approval, so I am sure we will be quite busy now trying to schedule matches and friendlies, and they are drawing groups in just a few months." Her eyes dropped to her plate again.

Marcus felt his heart speed up as she looked away. Why was she acting like this, when she should be jumping for joy? Was it that she didn't want to be with him any more? Was there some other man she would prefer to him? Of course, she was young...maybe she just wanted to have fun. Swallowing the knot that seemed to form in his throat, he had to know what was on her mind. "Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked.

This time, when she met his eyes, it was with a great shuddering breath. "Marcus, I have to tell you something. And there is no easy way to do it, so I suppose I will just say it." She scrunched her eyes shut. "I'm pregnant."

The words echoed in his ears, her voice sounded so tiny, only to be drowned out by the rushing in his ears from his heartbeat. Pregnant. Hermione was pregnant. Hermione was going to have a baby. Hermione was going to have his baby. He was going to become a father. Of course, he was always a bit too impatient to have her to be good about always casting a contraceptive charm, but he thought they'd been more careful than that. And now, they were going to have a baby.

She sound of Hermione's rattled voice brought him back to himself. She was crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Marcus, please say something. I know...I know we didn't plan on this, but…" she trailed off, unwilling to say what he knew she was thinking.

He stood from the table so abruptly, his chair knocked over, before crossing the room to kneel beside her. With his great height, even kneeling down, they were eye level. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled at her. "Hermione, will you marry me?" he asked, unable to stop the dopey grin from forming on his face.

She looked at his face, before shaking her head no. He felt his heart actually skip a beat. "No, I don't want to marry you because you feel some kind of sense of…obligation to me because we are having a baby. I don't want to marry you if you are only doing it because I am pregnant." It hurt her to say the words, knowing that she would love nothing more than to marry him, the man who'd been her protector through the years.

Marcus, desperate to change her mind, shoved his sweaty hand into the pocket of his jeans, before pulling out the ring he'd been carrying around for weeks. It had been from his mother's family — the Macmillians — and it held a small but flawless diamond, flanked on either side by delicate emeralds. "It's not just because...you're pregnant." He closed his eyes, thinking of the words. "Wow, you're pregnant. I've been carrying this around with me since May, just waiting for the right time to ask you. The perfect time. And I love you Hermione, and I would love for you to be my wife."

Hermione was crying happy tears this time, now nodding enthusiastically yes. "Yes, okay, I will marry you Marcus," she agreed enthusiastically. She used her hands to pull his face to hers, meeting his lips in a frantic kiss, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Marcus stood, picking her up as if she were light as a feather, before depositing her on the dining room table. Laid out before him like a feast, she looked good enough to eat, but he needed to be inside her, close to her. Helping her push her skirt up, and her knickers down her legs, she helped him undo the zipper and button of his jeans.

Sliding into her wet heat felt as good today as the first time they'd been together. Only now, they knew each other's bodies so much better, he knew exactly what could make her toes curl. Thrusting in and out of her, while she kissed up and down his neck, catching his earlobe between her teeth had him on the edge. It only took a few more vigorous thrusts, his thumb circling her clit, before they were coming together, a mess of sweaty limbs.

"I love you, Marcus," Hermione said, tears again in her eyes, so moved by the emotion of the moment.

Now that they were going to be married, Marcus had agreed to play cricket with Hermione's father. She'd been trying to describe all of the rules to him, but Marcus knew that there was no way he was going to remember all of them.

He said as much to Hermione's father, who had just given him a grin and slapped him on the shoulder. "A big guy like you? You'll do fine," he promised. The man then dragged him into their garden, leaving Hermione alone in the kitchen to run through wedding preparations.

Most of the time, Marcus liked spending time with Hermione's father. They didn't have much in common. He was some kind of healer, enjoyed listening to classical music and reading. Marcus didn't think too much of those. He wasn't a very good student, and he didn't really enjoy reading at all. But they did have one thing in common: sports.

Richard Granger had opened Marcus's eyes to a whole new world of muggle sports, while Marcus tried to explain Quidditch. His favorite was football, Richard being an avid supporter of Queens Park Rangers. Though, Marcus thought that if he'd grown up as a muggle, he would have likely played the sport called rugby instead of football. Or boxing — he liked watching that too.

He enjoyed watching cricket, but there were just too many rules, he always ended up getting confused. Richard tried to get him focused on one aspect, so he could eventually join in Richard's neighborhood league. He didn't think hitting the little ball would be that hard, but then he remembered how Hermione used to throw the Quaffle...and that she'd gotten her technique from her father.

And...when he remembered the reason they were getting married quite so quickly, he was concerned that her father might try to exact a little revenge on him, in the form of a hard rubber ball.

Perhaps reading Marcus's mind, seeing the younger man flinch while he warmed up, Richard tried to keep a serious face, before calling him over. "Look, Marcus, you may have fooled Jane with that nonsense about the autumnal equinox for the wedding thing, but you haven't fooled me," he said pointedly.

Marcus gulped, seeing the brown eyes Hermione had inherited bore into his own. He suddenly felt four feet tall. Blush on his cheeks, he nodded. "Yes sir."

"Still, I'd rather pretend as if I didn't know. So when Hermione and you visit in a month and tell us you are expecting a baby, I will act surprised." Richard stepped forward, pressing a finger in Marcus's broad chest. "But, you will have memorized at least the basic rules of cricket."

Marcus nodded again, happy to be let off so easily.

Richard's face was transformed by a grin. "I knew that the pair of you were going to end up together when you found us in Australia. Now, just keep my little girl safe."

Marcus and Hermione got married two weeks after he proposed to her. Marcus had told Hermione that he didn't mind waiting until after she had the baby or if she wanted more time. He didn't care if the old ladies in the pureblood circle his parents had run in clutched their pearls in horror at the idea of them having a child out of wedlock. Their friends and family supported them — even Marcus's mother's portrait was over the moon.

But Hermione had declined, saying she would rather just get married as soon as possible. They didn't need to make any statements about when their baby was conceived, she would let people extrapolate all they wanted, but she still wanted to be married before the baby was born, and while she still looked good in a wedding dress — her words, not his.

They got married on the Flint family grounds, where they had some runic stones that tied the family to the earth. Apparently, every Flint marriage for as long as anyone could remember was married at that same spot. It was lovely, surrounded by trees which were just beginning their annual leaf color change from green to orange.

Hermione had wore a muggle wedding dress, with long lace sleeves, that hugged all of her curves. Marcus thought that she looked stunning, and he was nearly too surprised to do anything when it was time to take her hands, until his witness, Adrian Pucey, gave him a shove. Millie stood as Hermione's witness, while the Ministry wizard began the bonding.

The small crowd clapped and cheered when they finally kissed at the end of the ceremony, standing together as Marcus and Hermione Flint for the first time. His Aunt Ursula looked over the moon, which warmed his heart, seeing as she was one of the few family members he had left. He was glad that she could look past Hermione's blood status for his happiness.

Hermione's mother slipped into the kitchen, where the newlyweds were discussing with their hired house elves who were serving the banquet, trying to decide what Hermione should do about drinking. If she was seen not drinking, it might be suspicious.

Jane pressed the bottle of sparkling apple cider into Hermione's hands with a smile on her face. "Do you honestly think your father was going to be able to keep such a secret from me?" she asked, before wrapping her daughter in a hug of congratulations. Of course, Jane had expected Hermione would have a career before starting a family, but she couldn't deny that she was excited for a grandchild.

Hermione huffed. "What, does everyone know?" she asked. Marcus had told her that her father had let on that he knew their little secret, but she'd hoped she'd be able to share her good news with at least a few people.

Jane shook her head. "No, it's just us. Now, come join the party! I know your father wants to dance with you. And I want a few pictures of you two dancing so I can show friends and family."

Millie was dating a Weasley.

Marcus didn't think he could think of anything else so horrifying. Apparently, Fred Weasley, exceedingly happy about being saved by Hermione, dropped by her office with some frequency to chat, bring by Mrs. Weasley's baked goods, and to ask about potions for their joke shop.

Hermione didn't approve of their joke products, but she could never turn down a puzzle.

The only thing they didn't count on was that Millie also visited Hermione for lunch every week. It was only a matter of time before the pair of them crossed paths.

Just...neither Hermione nor Marcus could imagine them hitting it off quite as well as they did.

Really, Marcus couldn't find too many faults with the ginger, once they'd each agreed to let old Quidditch injuries in the past. And, he wasn't at all intimidated by Millie's height, which was a positive. There weren't too many guys who were taller than his nearly six foot tall cousin. And Millie had really grown into her looks, so he was glad someone was noticing her for the beautiful woman she was.

But really, did this mean they had to invite Fred Weasley over for dinner?

Apparently yes. And Hermione was always willing to give away little embarrassing secrets about him, like how he gave her wonderful foot massages. Weasley would meet his eyes over the table and give him a little smirk, knowing that he was filing it away for later torment.

"Any ideas on what you are going to name the baby?" Millie asked, excited to be welcoming a new little Flint into the world. There was no hiding Hermione's seven months pregnant belly from anyone now. Hermione looked a bit silly. She was still so petite, and her belly was so large. According to the healer, they were going to have a large baby, though, with Marcus's size it wasn't that much of a surprise.

Hermione glowed, her hand resting on her stomach. Marcus couldn't help but move his own hand to rest on her baby bump as well, feeling the little baby kicking away, eager to meet the world. "Well, we haven't thought of any girls' names that fit yet...but, just today I was thinking about the name Alfred, if it's a boy. A little Alfie? Wouldn't that be cute?" she asked.

Fred made a big production about wiping his crocodile tears from his eyes. "Oh, Hermione, I know that you obviously like me — you saved me after all — but to name your child after me? A little Freddie running around here. I can just imagine it now," he teased, unable to keep the grin from his face.

Marcus's face went stone cold in that moment, before he shook his head vigorously. "No, absolutely not! We won't be calling him Alfred and that's final," he commanded.

Hermione giggled and nodded. "It could be a girl, anyway. You never know," she added with a shrug.

They spent the rest of the evening laughing and discussing the most hideous names their ancestors had. Apparently, the Flint family had some real doozies, but the Bulstrodes took the cake.

Marcus had to enlarge the hospital bed to make room for himself and not to have Hermione falling off. It was the first real test of his transfiguration skills in many years. He had to get it right, though, this time.

Curled around Hermione, they were able to hold their new sleeping baby between them. Marcus had counted all ten of his toes and fingers, and their little baby was just perfect in every way. Adjusting the blue stocking cap from his head, Hermione giggled beside him. "Oh, he has so much hair, doesn't he? And so dark, I bet he is going to look just like you when he grows up," she whispered.

The baby opened his eyes at the sound of his mother's voice, dark blue eyes adjusting to the light. Hermione hoped that his eyes stayed the same color blue as her husband's. "What do you think Eric? Do you want to look like your dad?" Marcus asked, his voice rumbling quietly, so as not to disturb the little tyke. "Though, look his hair is already curly, like yours." He gave Hermione a crooked smile.

Eric Flint had decided that he absolutely had to come into the world during Marcus's last home game of the Quidditch season. Hermione had been embarrassed to go into labor during the game, and shuffled her way to the trainer's room. She waited as long as she could before they sent her on her way to St. Mungo's on her own.

Marcus had come an hour later, annoyed that his coach hadn't substituted him. He couldn't imagine not being there for Hermione when she was giving birth, though his hand wished that she wasn't quite so strong. When he told her that she could squeeze as hard as she wanted, he didn't really realize she'd take it literally.

Still, he supposed that it was fine, because, after all, it was "his fault" that their baby was so giant. He didn't think a nine pound baby was that big at first, but then the healer told them that it was quite impressive.

Giving the tip of his finger to Eric, Marcus watched in awe as his little fingers gripped around the digit. "Think this one will end up a chaser?" he asked Hermione, hoping that between the two of them, their son had gotten some Quidditch talent.

Hermione grinned. "I don't know, I was thinking beater, maybe, with the way he was kicking my insides this last month," she mused.

Marcus kissed the top of her head. No matter what position their son played — or even if he chose to play a muggle sport instead — Marcus knew that little Eric was perfect.

Marcus was eager to take in the sights and sounds of the 2002 World Cup with his tiny family. Hermione had been invited to go being that she was part of the Ministry team that helped organize the event. England had made it out of the group stage, but unfortunately hadn't made it out of the round of 16, having been walloped by Belgium, the host country. It was a rough draw, but Marcus had been happy to get a few international caps under his belt.

Plus, this meant that he actually got to enjoy watching the game for a change, rather than playing. He had Eric, just a few months over one, on his hip, amused at his little boy's reactions to the sights and sounds. He did look a bit silly with the giant ear protection headphones Hermione insisted he wear to protect his hearing.

Eric had been a big baby and was growing into a large toddler — a little mini Marcus, to be sure. Except for his extremely curly hair. He was a cute baby. All the girls around who worked for Montrose cooed over him, and Millie was constantly asking to babysit — something he was only too happy to oblige. He and Hermione might be young parents, but they still needed some alone time.

He watched Hermione across the box, talk in slightly stilted French with the Belgian ministry wizard about her planning. Several other members of other countries' constituents gathered around as well, eager to hear how England had gone from nothing, war ravaged, to back in the World Cup in just two years. Marcus knew most of it was due to Hermione's brilliant planning.

Marcus was momentarily distracted by the teams coming out onto the pitch — Belgium and Italy — the raucous cheers of the Belgians practically shaking the stadium itself. Eric smiled and waved as the players flew past their box in thunderous speed.

When he turned back around, he saw none other than Viktor Krum sneaking up on his wife — recognizable from her distinctive hair, which had calmed somewhat in the years since Hogwarts. Krum grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up from the ground and spinning her to face him, before pressing a kiss against her lips.

Marcus felt his hackles rise, until Hermione pushed Viktor away, clearly annoyed and embarrassed at being manhandled in front of so many other important people. He watched as the Bulgarian's eyes drifted south to her swollen belly, round with their second child. He couldn't help the smirk from sliding on his face, when he heard Krum's shocked question. "Herm-o-ninny. You are having baby?" he asked, dumbly.

"Let's go help your mum," Marcus whispered to Eric, before heading over.

"Hello to you, too, Viktor," Hermione said, before putting her hands on her hips, ever the bossy witch. "Yes, I am expecting a baby in about two more months." Marcus's wife was so tiny, but she was also the kind of witch that didn't look pregnant from the back. But when she turned around, it was as if she were smuggling a quaffle under her dress.

Marcus put a hand on her shoulder, smiling when Eric immediately reached for her. "Hands off my wife, Krum," he growled out. He knew that Hermione was perfectly capable of standing up for herself. But, he also knew — no matter how much she protested — that it always got her a bit randy when he would act all possessive.

"Didn't know you vere married," Krum said, clearly horrified at his mistake. "I am sorry Herm-o-ninny. Didn't want to...upset you."

Marcus rolled his eyes. Yeah, of course he didn't mean to upset her, just flirt with her, and maybe finish off where they left off at the Yule Ball. But his girl was polite, as always. "It's fine, Viktor. I hope you enjoy the game. You should owl me next time you are in England. Marcus and I would love to have you over for dinner," she said, warmly.

Somehow, Marcus didn't think Viktor would take her up on her offer, but it did smooth over the tension. Hermione turned her head up to look at him, a shy smile on her lips. He bent over to meet her lips in a sweet kiss. "Come on, let's get to our seats. I think they are about to release the snitch," Hermione said eagerly.

The first few years were the hardest, when Eric and Holly were just toddlers. Marcus had such an unpredictable schedule with Quidditch, but he did try to watch them as much as possible. Hermione had a much more regular schedule, but it was still difficult to find balance between their work and spending time as a family.

Eric and Holly were growing up so quickly, and so they always felt as if they were going to miss out on some kind of momentous occassion, but they had been there for first words, first steps, first teeth.

Hermione was lucky in that her work gave her time off after the birth of each of her children, and then allowed her to work from home whenever possible, so she could be at home with them. They also got to go into her office every now and again, as well, as going off to Montrose with Marcus.

Marcus sometimes wondered how he ended up with two such adorable kids, remembering that he'd never been a very good looking child — people frequently joked that he looked like a troll — and Hermione, though she'd grown into a beautiful woman, had been homely as a first year. Yet somehow, everyone complimented Eric's grey-blue eyes and Holly's long, curly black hair. Hermione liked to say that they got the best of each of their parents, and Marcus was inclined to agree.

But, there were often times that neither Marcus nor Hermione could watch the children, and Hermione had fretted about it for a long time. Marcus always told her that between his inheritance and his salary, she didn't need to work, but he knew that she wanted a career. She told him as much whenever he suggested it.

Finally, one day, they found a most unusual solution to their problem. After a play date with Selena and Scorpius Malfoy, Luna Malfoy suggested that they just let her watch Eric and Holly. She was going to begin teaching her two children to better prepare them for Hogwarts. Hermione thought it was a wonderful idea, having formed a fast friendship with Luna.

Marcus had had his reservations. He remembered what Malfoy Manor had been like when he was a child, dragged along to tea parties by his mother, and he didn't particularly fancy his children spending a lot of time there. That was until he really took the time to look at the changes Luna had made around the house.

He couldn't deny that Luna was a ray of sunshine in that house, and a natural with children, possessing a childlike curiosity herself. They spent time in the gardens playing and learning. It was a good compromise.

After that, when Eric and Holly would return home after their parents were done with work, they would be full of stories and giggles and new creatures that they had found that day. He felt better knowing that they were starting to learn some magic as well, so they would be better prepared for Hogwarts. He hoped they inherited Hermione's bookish nature. He would like his children to be better students than he'd been.

Hermione's absolute favorite time of year was the holidays, especially now that Eric and Holly were old enough to help her out decorating their home. The Flint ancestral home was very large, and that meant that there was a lot of decorate. Her little helpers were good at helping her decide where to put up tinsel and garland, and Holly's favorite — holly.

Marcus could usually be convinced to trudge out into the large forest that abutted their home to find a large pine tree to chop down and then carry back to the house. He always groused every year that they should just use magic, that axes were dangerous, but he could always be convinced to do it the muggle way, if Hermione batted her eyelashes at him and then whispered just how much she loved to watch him use the axe.

He'd groan at her. "Pipsqueak, you are killing me." Then he would try to pull her into a lingering kiss, nipping her lower lip between his teeth. Wrapping his arms around her, she would try to escape his grasp, until she'd finally relax, melting against him.

His giggling children would always break up their parents. "Eww, papa and mummy are kissing," five year old Eric would point out to his little sister, who was probably happy to just continue sorting out the baubles that they had to put on the tree. Then Holly would join into the giggling, until finally their parents would break apart.

Marcus would pluck his daughter up from the ground, putting her on his shoulders so they could make their way out into the snowy landscape. Eric would hold his mother's hand while they trudged through the snow. "You know, someday you won't think girls are so icky, Eric," Marcus would tease, remembering the times he would rather eat mud than talk to Eugenia Roper.

By the time they got back with the tree, it was time for Hermione to go to collect her parents. "Alright, are you sure the three of you will be alright while I get grandma and grandpa?" Hermione asked, hoping that Marcus wouldn't destroy all of the baubles like he did the year before. He always pulled a bit too hard when he tried to pull them out of the plastic. Her husband waved her away, and she left through the floo to collect her parents.

Hermione wasn't even gone for an hour, but when she returned, they were met by the smell of baking sugar cookies. Holly ran out from the kitchen, fingers sticky with pink frosting. "Grandma! Grandpa! Did you bring me presents?" she asked, baby blue eyes shining with mischievousness.

Before Hermione could ask her precocious daughter where her brother and father were, Eric and Marcus came out of the kitchen, carrying a plate of decorated sugar cookies. "Papa let us make cookies for grandma and grandpa! I frosted these ones all by myself," Eric said proudly, before seeing his little sister's wobbling lip. "Holly helped too," he added.

Hermione smiled at her little family. She was happy that she had a husband who took such an active role in raising their children. He honestly enjoyed spending time with them, as did Hermione. Each one had their own little personalities.

This was why she loved the holidays. They always had loads of time to spend together.

br

In a blink of an eye, their children had grown up and were headed off to Hogwarts. It had been hard the year before when Eric had finally gone to school, gangly and already half a head taller than his peers, but trying to project the air of being a man.

But this year, their little girl Holly was going to Hogwarts, too. Hermione didn't want to think about how lonely the house would be without the children to come home to. Maybe she and Marcus could resume their tradition of spending their evenings in the parlor. And it would be nice to be able to get intimate whenever the mood struck them without fear of being walked in on.

Eric had gone to Slytherin house, of course, but Holly...Hermione just didn't think Holly had the cunning to be a Slytherin. She was much too sweet, and if Hermione was honest with herself, she thought that Holly was going to end up a Ravenclaw. She was very serious about the rules and rigid about sticking to them.

She tried to ease her daughter's fears, reminding her that they would love her no matter what house she ended up in. "Even if I am a Hufflepuff?" Holly asked, concern clear on her face. Unfortunately, both of her children had inherited her and Marcus's terrible teeth once their adult teeth grew in. Hermione knew that they could get them fixed, though only once they'd finished growing.

"Even if you are a Hufflepuff," Hermione said with a grin. "You know your Grandma Georgina was a Hufflepuff," Hermione told her daughter, wanting to alleviate the fear. Once she'd finished plaiting her daughter's long black hair, she shrunk her trunk. "Shall we go find the boys then?"

She could hear her husband's rumbling voice in the other room, giving her son Quidditch advise. "Now, you're a lot bigger than the other boys. Don't be afraid to use your size to your advantage. You can throw a few elbows, of course, so long as you don't get caught." Eric was trying out to be a beater.

"Marcus Flint! Are you trying to teach my son how to cheat at Quidditch?" Hermione said, her voice shrill in annoyance.

He obviously cringed at being caught. "It's part of the game, pipsqueak," he said.

"Not at his age," Hermione insisted. "Eric, promise me you'll play fair. I just know you'll get a spot. Maybe not on the first team, but sometimes it's good to start on the reserves. It gives you time for the older players to show you the ropes." She pushed his curly black hair out of his eyes.

"I promise mum," Eric said, but knowing that he'd probably listen to his dad anyway. He was the professional player after all. And he was on the England squad that won the 2008 World Cup.

"Now, you Holly, should not be afraid to throw a few punches if any boys give you any trouble, okay?" Marcus said, resting his hands on his daughter's shoulders so that she would look him in the eye. "Let your brother know if anyone is giving you a hard time. He will watch out for you."

Catching her husband's eye, Hermione smirked at Marcus. "Or, just feel free to throw an object at them if they won't leave you alone. I hear books make especially good missiles." Hermione couldn't stop the teasing tone of her voice, noticing her husband pale at the implication. "Alright, shall we go to King's Cross?"

Gathering up her family, Hermione sighed, glad with how things had turned out. Sure, she and Marcus had had a rocky start, but he had become one of her first friends. Then he'd protected her through the war, before making her the happiest woman in the world, with two beautiful children. She wouldn't think twice about changing a single thing.