Of Flirting, Fun, and Fantastic Arses - fic for writersblock76
Author: suzanne78
Recipient: writersblock76
Title: Of Flirting, Fun, and Fantastic Arses
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: DH-compliant minus the epilogue; post-war. No warnings.
Characters/Ships: Michael Corner/Hermione Granger
Genre: Romance
Summary: "There were no two ways around it; she had a rather magnificent rear end." Michael Corner deals with an attraction to Hermione Granger the only way he knows how -- to get her to stop working!
Length: Complete: 3,954 words
Notes: Thanks to the clever_claws mods for putting this fic exchange together. Writersblock76, I do hope you enjoy this!
For Michael Corner, the view was quite nice from where he was standing.
His colleague seemed to take no notice of him, although no one could’ve missed the sound of his leg brace and cane echoing against the cold stone floor and walls of the library.
He suppressed a chuckle as Hermione Granger continued Levitating books from the highest stacks, several feet above where she was on the ladder. He watched her waving her wand, quietly uttering the Levitation Charm. She could’ve gone up further on the ladder, but he was supremely thankful that she stayed put right where she was; her stance allowed Michael quite a lovely view of her arse.
There were no two ways around it; she had a rather magnificent rear end.
"Michael?" she asked, her tone surprised. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes snapped up to her face. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied. "Don’t you know it’s Saturday? It’s almost night."
She huffed. "Of course I do! I can still do research on--" She aimed her wand at a heavy book. "The weekend! Wingardium Leviosa!"
The text, old and dusty, floated down to the table beside Michael. It landed with a dull thud.
Hermione started down the ladder. "Besides, we -- meaning you and I -- need to get a head start on the werewolf treaty?"
"On a Saturday, though?" There was the slightest whinging quality to Michael’s voice; it was not a becoming trait of his, particularly when conversing with a witch like Hermione Granger. Despite the fact that he was certainly witty and funny, and despite the fact that he was a war veteran, Michael felt like a kid sometimes.
"I wanted to do some research on the foundations of lycanthropy." Hermione, both feet now firmly on the floor, began picking up books from the table, stacking them almost as high as her head. "It’ll do some good for other Ministry members to remember that it’s a magical disease without cure. It’s not a choice. I figured magical viruses and bacteria are as obvious as any place to start."
A groan escaped his lips. She glared at him.
"You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. Technically, it’s after work hours."
Michael looked at her flatly. "If you’re here, I’m here. I’m not letting myself get showed up by you." This comment earned him a strong stare.
"I wasn’t aware this is a competition, Michael. We’re co-workers, not adversaries."
His mild expression mellowed into a cheekier grin. "I was joking. Please don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of humour."
Hermione paused next to him, tower of books in her hands. She looked as if she wanted to say something cutting, but she stopped before whatever could escape from her mouth. She rolled her eyes. "I’m not completely humourless."
"I didn’t think you were. I thought I noticed at least two smiles this week, which might be a new record."
She snorted -- Michael noticed that she was also grinning -- and her stack of books teetered precariously. He instinctively reached out and took several off the top of her pile. However, his cane hit a slightly slick spot on the stone and nearly slipped out from under him.
"Whoa!"
"Michael! Be careful." Hermione reached out with her free arm to help steady him. He quickly adjusted his stance and managed to remain upright with the new load in his arms.
"I’m all right.
"You don’t have to--"
"I’m all right, Hermione." He immediately regretted his sharp tone; she recoiled slightly and withdrew her hand as if she had just touched scalding metal. It was this hairpin temper of his; Hermione was right; sometimes he could be as bad as a Chinese Horntail during its mating season. "Sorry."
"I didn’t mean to -- I’m sorry if I offended…"
Michael squeezed his eyes shut. He hated snapping at anyone, especially Hermione, when there was even the slightest amount of concern that he had difficulty doing something due to his physical state. He was sensitive, and rightly so, but he knew he could be overly sensitive at times.
Particularly with her.
"Hermione, I know what you meant. I… I was merely trying to be chivalrous." He finally got a good grip on the books and his walking instrument.
Again, she smirked at him. He watched as a couple of brunette curls fell from her bun; he couldn’t help but find it impossibly, sexy. Smart, sure, but very, very sexy.
"Chivalrous?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah. Don’t tell me you think it’s impossible for me to be chivalrous."
She started walking, her lips pressed together, trying to stop herself from smiling more than she was already. Michael rather thought -- or maybe hoped? -- that her eyes lingered on him even as her head turned to the front of the library. Regardless, he followed her, the click of the wooden tip of his cane striking the floor with each step.
"Hold on for a minute." Hermione approached the librarian, talking and giving to her a list of the books she was checking out.
He couldn’t help but be impressed with her work ethic, although it certainly led to some trying moments between her and the other Ministry employees. Michael noticed her usually zealous work ethic ramp up to inhuman levels as she worked late nights and early mornings, and as she demanded from everyone more and more efforts in regards to house-elf and werewolf rights.
One morning, she nearly missed an important centaur-Ministry negotiation because she was in her office, sleeping on top of a pile of parchments and books. Michael had travelled back to the office to find her; after all, it was completely uncharacteristic of her to have missed such an important conference. When he saw her, asleep, her hair wild and streaming across her desk, her lips slightly parted, and her face soft and her cheeks pink, it struck him--
Not only was Hermione Granger smart, funny in a rather lovely sarcastic way that made him laugh, and completely dedicated to her work, but she was also quite beautiful.
Once he got her to the meeting, and pried her with enough Alertness Charms and Muggle coffee so she could get through the negotiation, he escorted her back to her meticulous flat so she could sleep the rest of the day. He did have to resist the urge to push back a stray lock of her hair after she collapsed on her overly large sofa. Just before he left, he had made sure to pull up her knobbly knitted blanket around her shoulders.
From that point forward, Michael realized he stopped seeing Hermione Granger as simply a colleague. She was a woman. One hundred percent woman.
He also suspected that Hermione preferred wizards who were famous and who were, in some ways, gifted with certain physical skills. Not that he ever spoke about her previous relationships with her, but there was Viktor Krum. And, of course, her friendships with Harry and Ron… and a very publicized romance with the latter.
Sure, Michael had fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been a member of Dumbledore’s Army. But before all of that, the only way Hermione had known him was as Ginny Weasley’s moody boyfriend who couldn’t equal the greatness of Harry Potter.
Now he was practically without the use of one leg. Not to mention that one side of his body still resembled ground up prime. Damn those Death Eaters! It wasn’t enough that they were out to destroy the wizarding world -- they had to go mess with his fit body.
Michael barely noticed Hermione approach him again, and only when she placed her hand on his right shoulder did he jump slightly, betraying any surprise.
"Michael? Are you all right?"
"Oh, yeah… fine. Let’s get out of here and back to the office."
They exited the library quietly, Flooing directly to the small, cluttered office that they shared on level four of the Ministry of Magic, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Once inside, Hermione raised her foot behind her and kicked the door shut. She cleared a spot on her desk and set down her books. Michael did the same on his and plopped down in his seat, leaning his cane against the wall.
In several swift, but no less fluid moves, Hermione glided into her seat, plucked the first book off the top of her stack, and opened it. Without looking up from her page, she addressed Michael. "You wanted to talk to me?"
He licked his lips; how to phrase, delicately of course, what he wanted to say. One thing Michael had never been graced with was a gentle mouth and tact.
"You should get out of here, Hermione."
She stopped reading and slowly met his eyes. "I should get out?"
Michael grinned and winced at the same time. "Okay, so that didn’t come out as smooth as I wanted--"
Hermione shut her book and pushed away several loose parchments off of her desk. She primly folded her fingers together and stared at Michael. "What do you mean when you say, ‘I should get out of here’?"
Michael cocked his eyebrow and a smirk peeked out on his face. "You really need for me to spell this out for you."
"Please do."
"All right. Hermione," he said, leaning forwards on his own desk. "It is a truth universally acknowledged within the Ministry that you are--"
Despite her initial annoyance at him for bringing up this topic, she grinned. "Yes?"
"A workaholic."
Hermione’s mouth opened, about to say something, but no words came out. She appeared to consider saying one thing, but suddenly thought the better of it. Finally, she raised an eyebrow "And you were doing so well quoting Austen to me."
His face registered a mix of amusement and mock surprise. "You like a bloke who can quote Austen?"
Hermione grinned. If Michael were a wagering fellow, he would’ve bet his meagre savings in Gringotts that he had rather charmed her.
"Well, there is something nice about a literate man. Whether he is a Muggle or a wizard."
"Tell me again; why the hell were you not Sorted into Ravenclaw?"
The corner of her mouth lifted up. "Is it so out of the question that a Gryffindor can be both courageous and intelligent?"
He said nothing in response, instead tapping two fingers rapidly on his desk. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he regarded Hermione as she dove back into the old book. She turned page after page, twirling a stray lock of curly hair that had fallen out of her bun. It was rather mesmerizing, the way her slender fingers played with the curl, winding it, smoothing it down, only for the tendril to pop back into its wavy state.
"You’re staring at me again."
Michael snorted. "You know what?"
Hermione looked at him with a long, lingering blink. "What?"
Michael grabbed his cane away from the wall, and used it to help him up. He stepped around so he was right next to her seat and he pulled his chair around the tight space between her desk and the wall. He plopped himself down, far closer to Hermione than he had meant to be. She stared at him, surprised at his demeanour.
"Hermione, you need a break. A real break. You may be smarter than Dumbledore, Flitwick, McGonagall, and every single Ravenclaw since the Founders’ Era combined, but you’re still human."
Hermione stared at him. "And this human has to make sure that everything runs smoothly with the treaty."
"That’s not on the table for another month!" Michael blurted out.
She placed her hands flat on her desk. "Yes, and I’m using every moment possible to prepare myself for all potential contingencies, arguments, tactics--"
Michael stopped her in mid-sentence. "Don’t! You know perfectly well after the near-debacle with the centaurs that you shouldn’t let yourself be overwhelmed with work. You’ve got a month, and yet, you’ve worked over nine, almost ten hours every day this past week. You have to rest at least one day."
She glared at him, her brows knitting together like two angry darts pointed right at her nose. Sure he was being blunt; he was Michael Corner, after all, and the one thing that never evaded him was honesty. Tact, though, was something that he never possessed in great quantity; he supposed his love life at Hogwarts had suffered extensively because he simply didn’t shut his mouth and listen to what his girlfriends had to say. It was hard to stay quiet, though, when he was right about so many things.
Clearly, not much had changed following the war.
She opened her mouth. Michael prepared himself to hear a nice, scathing stream of invective come flying out… but it didn’t.
Instead, Hermione fell back into her chair and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Dammit Ron," she said softly. "So much for telling me to ‘lighten up’."
Michael straightened his back at the sound of his name.
Ron? Ron Weasley…
Of course. For just over a decade, Hermione had been Ron Weasley’s friend. For a number of those years, she had been either friend or girlfriend to Weasley. Michael knew that their relationship ended a couple of years ago, and Weasley was in a serious relationship with Lavender Brown; rumours had it that the two were going to get married soon.
He didn’t know the current status between Ron and Hermione; however, with the circumstances being what they were, and with Hermione seeming to be rather dismayed about some effect Ron had had on her, perhaps there was still something there between them…
Without thinking, Michael snorted derisively. "Hrmph! Figures."
Hermione stared at him. "What does that mean? ‘Harrumphf… figures’?"
"I didn’t harrumphf. I just didn’t know why you had to bring him up right there."
Her mouth twitched as she pondered what to say next.
Michael grunted in frustration. He stopped himself before he could say, "You’re bloody not over him!" It wasn’t something he normally did, checking his tongue at the door, but the head-on approach hadn’t been the most successful one with the ladies thus far. Perhaps, something different might work… especially with Hermione Granger.
"L-look, I’m not the best listener in the whole world--"
She chortled. "You barely listen to yourself half the time."
Michael ignored her statement and continued speaking. "But if you, y’know… need someone to talk to--
Hermione eyed him dubiously. "Are you saying that I can talk to you?"
He stopped himself just short of rolling his eyes. "Uh, yeah. I’ve heard stuff about…" He swirled his hand in front of him, trying to urge it out of her first before he could say anything.
Hermione moved her head in sync with his hand. "You heard stuff about what, Michael?"
"About Weasley and…" He winced a bit, not wanting to say her name, especially if it was a sore spot with Hermione.
"The Giant Squid?"
"No, not the ‘The Giant Squid!" Michael said, his face crumpling in disbelief. "Lavender Brown, of course."
"Oh! You meant Lavender Brown," she said slowly. Michael looked at her flatly.
"Now you’re just mocking me, aren’t you?"
Hermione regarded him, a tiny smirk peeking out on her face. It grew the longer she continued to watch him. "I am a little bit. Did you think hearing about her would bother me?"
He shrugged. "I don’t know if I expected you to spin around three times and spit on the floor if I said her name. I was trying to be polite and not bring her up if she bugged you."
She looked slightly startled at his admission of politeness. "Um, thank you." Hermione creased her brow again; she kept her eyes on his face, apprising whether or not to speak. After a few moments, she decided to talk.
"It’s not that Lavender bothers me. Ron and I haven’t been together in over a year; I had moved on before he started dating Lavender again."
Michael nodded. "Look, it seems to me like you’ve been fixated on work even more lately, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with them."
Again, she sat in silence for a few moments, her eyes focused on his without wavering. She blinked. "It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t feeling slightly… sentimental about Ron and the clear progress he’s made with Lavender. But we’re all adults now. And I’ve got two eyes, I can see that both of them have grown as people."
Michael looked away to the right. He smiled and nodded. "Lav changed a lot our seventh year. You were a bit busy to notice, but she did a lot of good in the fight against the Carrows."
She inhaled deeply, releasing her breath with a long sigh. "Well, I’ve come to appreciate those changes now. What amazes me about the whole thing is that she’s trying to overcome whatever lingering awkwardness there might be between us. And she makes Ron happy, so I can’t complain."
"Perhaps, but you’re only ever here these days. You can’t deny that your hours have increased."
Hermione stared at him with a troubled expression. "Only by about thirty to forty percent. Really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not much at all."
Michael shifted his mouth from one side of his face to the other. He wanted to say a lot of things, but his tongue seemed to be, quite improbably, frozen to the roof of his mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I didn’t say anything."
She crossed her arms in front of her. Michael forced himself to match her peevishly amused expression with his own, rather than stare at the way her curls were falling out of her hair.
"Michael, you want to say something to me. I can tell."
He breathed out, feeling his nostrils flare slightly. "It just hasn’t seemed like you’ve had any fun lately."
Hermione blinked again, rapidly this time. "Fun? I have fun all the time!" She lifted the nearest book on her desk. "This is fun. I would think that you, as a Ravenclaw, would appreciate this type of fun. I would think that this type of fun appealed to you!"
Michael pulled the book away from her and set it aside on an empty space of her desk. "That’s not quite the recreational activity I had in mind." He found himself leaning forwards, so that they were mere centimetres apart. Apparently, Hermione noticed as well, because her eyes widened slightly. But, he also noted that she did not back away.
This thought brought out a little lopsided grin on his face. Perhaps there was something slightly more than the typical peer/colleague relationship between them. And it was not merely on his side alone.
Of course, he would be more assured of her attraction to him if he looked more like his old self. His handsome face still bore several scars from his seventh year, although there was a chance that she was drawn to such markings.
Still, if there was even a chance that Hermione was attracted to him, he wasn’t going to complain.
And suddenly, he felt nervous.
"Have you gone out with any blokes since Ron started seeing Lavender?"
Her head gave the tiniest shake. "If I thought that was any of your business… that my social life was any of your business--"
"I wouldn’t mind it if you dating became my business."
She let out a small gasp. "Michael…"
"Yes?"
Her mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds. She appeared to be flustered. "Wh-what… I just want to be clear."
Michael leaned in closer. "Go on."
"What, exactly, do you mean that you wouldn’t mind if my social life was your business?"
Michael quietly sucked in a breath, hoping his nerves would calm down. "Well, for starters -- this…"
He brought his good hand up to her face. Her eyes followed his movements, and he was infinitely thankful that she didn’t pull away from him. Smirking to cover his ever-increasing nervousness, he closed the distance between him and Hermione, touching his lips to hers.
The kiss did not last long, but it didn’t matter to Michael; he breathed in her sweet, floral aroma and tasted her lips on his. He felt a rush go through him at the moment of contact -- the softness of skin, the whisper of breath, the jolt when he realized she was kissing him back, as her lips parted ever so slowly…
He pulled away, managing to smirk, although he wanted to smile a great deal more. "See?" He circled his nose to come millimetres next to hers. "That’s the type of fun I’m talking about -- MMMPRHF!!"
It took his brain a few moments to register that he couldn’t speak.
Hermione had reattached herself to his mouth.
The shock gave way to surprise… which gave way to ohthehellwithit!! Michael drew her close to his body, his head turning left and right, making sure that he never broke this insane, but marvellous contact.
The snogging, this time, was not what he had anticipated. They were a tangle of lips and tongue and arms and hair, but he could not stop. It was delightful, being on the receiving end of such a kiss. He could feel her breath on his cheeks and lips, her hands touching his neck gently, winding around to the back of his head, her fingers weaving through his shaggy brown hair.
Feeling and seeing Hermione Granger -- normally so prim and professional -- unravel so completely because of him was even better than he had ever imagined.
She broke apart from the snog first and looked at him, her eyes and mouth resembling "O"s. Clearing her throat, she settled back into her seat, straightening out her blouse. Michael couldn’t wait for her to start talking.
"So," he said, panting slightly, running his hand through his hair, "does this mean that you would accept a dinner invitation from me? If I asked you?"
Hermione regained her poise. "Well, you would have to ask me to see what my answer would be."
Michael shut his eyes and groaned; he could hear her chuckle softly.
"Are you hungry now?"
He opened his eyes, seeing Hermione’s smiling face in front of him. "You could say that, yes."
"Very well." She got up and gathered her purse and robes. "Perhaps you were right, I could use a bit more of that type of fun in my life."
Michael reached for his cane, and stood up, offering his arm. "Care to join me tonight for a bite to eat then?"
She laid her palm on him. "Yes."
"And no ‘work’ talk."
Hermione glared at him. "We work together. It’s one thing we have in common--"
"And when we’re at the Ministry, we’ll discuss work. When we’re not, we’ll find other things to discuss. See how this all works out?" And he smirked; he could feel his confidence coming back. Hermione Granger liked him. She wanted him. Bum leg, scarred face, or injured body, it didn’t matter.
"Fine. No work talk. I’m sure both of us can think of things to discuss."
He winked at her and unwound his arm from underneath her hand. "After you, Miss Granger," he said, gesturing for her to leave the office first. Smirking and shaking her head, Hermione walked out first. Michael made sure to close and lock the office door behind him, never once taking his eyes off of her rather magnificent rear end.
Fin.
Recipient: writersblock76
Title: Of Flirting, Fun, and Fantastic Arses
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: DH-compliant minus the epilogue; post-war. No warnings.
Characters/Ships: Michael Corner/Hermione Granger
Genre: Romance
Summary: "There were no two ways around it; she had a rather magnificent rear end." Michael Corner deals with an attraction to Hermione Granger the only way he knows how -- to get her to stop working!
Length: Complete: 3,954 words
Notes: Thanks to the clever_claws mods for putting this fic exchange together. Writersblock76, I do hope you enjoy this!
For Michael Corner, the view was quite nice from where he was standing.
His colleague seemed to take no notice of him, although no one could’ve missed the sound of his leg brace and cane echoing against the cold stone floor and walls of the library.
He suppressed a chuckle as Hermione Granger continued Levitating books from the highest stacks, several feet above where she was on the ladder. He watched her waving her wand, quietly uttering the Levitation Charm. She could’ve gone up further on the ladder, but he was supremely thankful that she stayed put right where she was; her stance allowed Michael quite a lovely view of her arse.
There were no two ways around it; she had a rather magnificent rear end.
"Michael?" she asked, her tone surprised. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes snapped up to her face. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied. "Don’t you know it’s Saturday? It’s almost night."
She huffed. "Of course I do! I can still do research on--" She aimed her wand at a heavy book. "The weekend! Wingardium Leviosa!"
The text, old and dusty, floated down to the table beside Michael. It landed with a dull thud.
Hermione started down the ladder. "Besides, we -- meaning you and I -- need to get a head start on the werewolf treaty?"
"On a Saturday, though?" There was the slightest whinging quality to Michael’s voice; it was not a becoming trait of his, particularly when conversing with a witch like Hermione Granger. Despite the fact that he was certainly witty and funny, and despite the fact that he was a war veteran, Michael felt like a kid sometimes.
"I wanted to do some research on the foundations of lycanthropy." Hermione, both feet now firmly on the floor, began picking up books from the table, stacking them almost as high as her head. "It’ll do some good for other Ministry members to remember that it’s a magical disease without cure. It’s not a choice. I figured magical viruses and bacteria are as obvious as any place to start."
A groan escaped his lips. She glared at him.
"You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. Technically, it’s after work hours."
Michael looked at her flatly. "If you’re here, I’m here. I’m not letting myself get showed up by you." This comment earned him a strong stare.
"I wasn’t aware this is a competition, Michael. We’re co-workers, not adversaries."
His mild expression mellowed into a cheekier grin. "I was joking. Please don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of humour."
Hermione paused next to him, tower of books in her hands. She looked as if she wanted to say something cutting, but she stopped before whatever could escape from her mouth. She rolled her eyes. "I’m not completely humourless."
"I didn’t think you were. I thought I noticed at least two smiles this week, which might be a new record."
She snorted -- Michael noticed that she was also grinning -- and her stack of books teetered precariously. He instinctively reached out and took several off the top of her pile. However, his cane hit a slightly slick spot on the stone and nearly slipped out from under him.
"Whoa!"
"Michael! Be careful." Hermione reached out with her free arm to help steady him. He quickly adjusted his stance and managed to remain upright with the new load in his arms.
"I’m all right.
"You don’t have to--"
"I’m all right, Hermione." He immediately regretted his sharp tone; she recoiled slightly and withdrew her hand as if she had just touched scalding metal. It was this hairpin temper of his; Hermione was right; sometimes he could be as bad as a Chinese Horntail during its mating season. "Sorry."
"I didn’t mean to -- I’m sorry if I offended…"
Michael squeezed his eyes shut. He hated snapping at anyone, especially Hermione, when there was even the slightest amount of concern that he had difficulty doing something due to his physical state. He was sensitive, and rightly so, but he knew he could be overly sensitive at times.
Particularly with her.
"Hermione, I know what you meant. I… I was merely trying to be chivalrous." He finally got a good grip on the books and his walking instrument.
Again, she smirked at him. He watched as a couple of brunette curls fell from her bun; he couldn’t help but find it impossibly, sexy. Smart, sure, but very, very sexy.
"Chivalrous?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah. Don’t tell me you think it’s impossible for me to be chivalrous."
She started walking, her lips pressed together, trying to stop herself from smiling more than she was already. Michael rather thought -- or maybe hoped? -- that her eyes lingered on him even as her head turned to the front of the library. Regardless, he followed her, the click of the wooden tip of his cane striking the floor with each step.
"Hold on for a minute." Hermione approached the librarian, talking and giving to her a list of the books she was checking out.
He couldn’t help but be impressed with her work ethic, although it certainly led to some trying moments between her and the other Ministry employees. Michael noticed her usually zealous work ethic ramp up to inhuman levels as she worked late nights and early mornings, and as she demanded from everyone more and more efforts in regards to house-elf and werewolf rights.
One morning, she nearly missed an important centaur-Ministry negotiation because she was in her office, sleeping on top of a pile of parchments and books. Michael had travelled back to the office to find her; after all, it was completely uncharacteristic of her to have missed such an important conference. When he saw her, asleep, her hair wild and streaming across her desk, her lips slightly parted, and her face soft and her cheeks pink, it struck him--
Not only was Hermione Granger smart, funny in a rather lovely sarcastic way that made him laugh, and completely dedicated to her work, but she was also quite beautiful.
Once he got her to the meeting, and pried her with enough Alertness Charms and Muggle coffee so she could get through the negotiation, he escorted her back to her meticulous flat so she could sleep the rest of the day. He did have to resist the urge to push back a stray lock of her hair after she collapsed on her overly large sofa. Just before he left, he had made sure to pull up her knobbly knitted blanket around her shoulders.
From that point forward, Michael realized he stopped seeing Hermione Granger as simply a colleague. She was a woman. One hundred percent woman.
He also suspected that Hermione preferred wizards who were famous and who were, in some ways, gifted with certain physical skills. Not that he ever spoke about her previous relationships with her, but there was Viktor Krum. And, of course, her friendships with Harry and Ron… and a very publicized romance with the latter.
Sure, Michael had fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been a member of Dumbledore’s Army. But before all of that, the only way Hermione had known him was as Ginny Weasley’s moody boyfriend who couldn’t equal the greatness of Harry Potter.
Now he was practically without the use of one leg. Not to mention that one side of his body still resembled ground up prime. Damn those Death Eaters! It wasn’t enough that they were out to destroy the wizarding world -- they had to go mess with his fit body.
Michael barely noticed Hermione approach him again, and only when she placed her hand on his right shoulder did he jump slightly, betraying any surprise.
"Michael? Are you all right?"
"Oh, yeah… fine. Let’s get out of here and back to the office."
They exited the library quietly, Flooing directly to the small, cluttered office that they shared on level four of the Ministry of Magic, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Once inside, Hermione raised her foot behind her and kicked the door shut. She cleared a spot on her desk and set down her books. Michael did the same on his and plopped down in his seat, leaning his cane against the wall.
In several swift, but no less fluid moves, Hermione glided into her seat, plucked the first book off the top of her stack, and opened it. Without looking up from her page, she addressed Michael. "You wanted to talk to me?"
He licked his lips; how to phrase, delicately of course, what he wanted to say. One thing Michael had never been graced with was a gentle mouth and tact.
"You should get out of here, Hermione."
She stopped reading and slowly met his eyes. "I should get out?"
Michael grinned and winced at the same time. "Okay, so that didn’t come out as smooth as I wanted--"
Hermione shut her book and pushed away several loose parchments off of her desk. She primly folded her fingers together and stared at Michael. "What do you mean when you say, ‘I should get out of here’?"
Michael cocked his eyebrow and a smirk peeked out on his face. "You really need for me to spell this out for you."
"Please do."
"All right. Hermione," he said, leaning forwards on his own desk. "It is a truth universally acknowledged within the Ministry that you are--"
Despite her initial annoyance at him for bringing up this topic, she grinned. "Yes?"
"A workaholic."
Hermione’s mouth opened, about to say something, but no words came out. She appeared to consider saying one thing, but suddenly thought the better of it. Finally, she raised an eyebrow "And you were doing so well quoting Austen to me."
His face registered a mix of amusement and mock surprise. "You like a bloke who can quote Austen?"
Hermione grinned. If Michael were a wagering fellow, he would’ve bet his meagre savings in Gringotts that he had rather charmed her.
"Well, there is something nice about a literate man. Whether he is a Muggle or a wizard."
"Tell me again; why the hell were you not Sorted into Ravenclaw?"
The corner of her mouth lifted up. "Is it so out of the question that a Gryffindor can be both courageous and intelligent?"
He said nothing in response, instead tapping two fingers rapidly on his desk. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he regarded Hermione as she dove back into the old book. She turned page after page, twirling a stray lock of curly hair that had fallen out of her bun. It was rather mesmerizing, the way her slender fingers played with the curl, winding it, smoothing it down, only for the tendril to pop back into its wavy state.
"You’re staring at me again."
Michael snorted. "You know what?"
Hermione looked at him with a long, lingering blink. "What?"
Michael grabbed his cane away from the wall, and used it to help him up. He stepped around so he was right next to her seat and he pulled his chair around the tight space between her desk and the wall. He plopped himself down, far closer to Hermione than he had meant to be. She stared at him, surprised at his demeanour.
"Hermione, you need a break. A real break. You may be smarter than Dumbledore, Flitwick, McGonagall, and every single Ravenclaw since the Founders’ Era combined, but you’re still human."
Hermione stared at him. "And this human has to make sure that everything runs smoothly with the treaty."
"That’s not on the table for another month!" Michael blurted out.
She placed her hands flat on her desk. "Yes, and I’m using every moment possible to prepare myself for all potential contingencies, arguments, tactics--"
Michael stopped her in mid-sentence. "Don’t! You know perfectly well after the near-debacle with the centaurs that you shouldn’t let yourself be overwhelmed with work. You’ve got a month, and yet, you’ve worked over nine, almost ten hours every day this past week. You have to rest at least one day."
She glared at him, her brows knitting together like two angry darts pointed right at her nose. Sure he was being blunt; he was Michael Corner, after all, and the one thing that never evaded him was honesty. Tact, though, was something that he never possessed in great quantity; he supposed his love life at Hogwarts had suffered extensively because he simply didn’t shut his mouth and listen to what his girlfriends had to say. It was hard to stay quiet, though, when he was right about so many things.
Clearly, not much had changed following the war.
She opened her mouth. Michael prepared himself to hear a nice, scathing stream of invective come flying out… but it didn’t.
Instead, Hermione fell back into her chair and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Dammit Ron," she said softly. "So much for telling me to ‘lighten up’."
Michael straightened his back at the sound of his name.
Ron? Ron Weasley…
Of course. For just over a decade, Hermione had been Ron Weasley’s friend. For a number of those years, she had been either friend or girlfriend to Weasley. Michael knew that their relationship ended a couple of years ago, and Weasley was in a serious relationship with Lavender Brown; rumours had it that the two were going to get married soon.
He didn’t know the current status between Ron and Hermione; however, with the circumstances being what they were, and with Hermione seeming to be rather dismayed about some effect Ron had had on her, perhaps there was still something there between them…
Without thinking, Michael snorted derisively. "Hrmph! Figures."
Hermione stared at him. "What does that mean? ‘Harrumphf… figures’?"
"I didn’t harrumphf. I just didn’t know why you had to bring him up right there."
Her mouth twitched as she pondered what to say next.
Michael grunted in frustration. He stopped himself before he could say, "You’re bloody not over him!" It wasn’t something he normally did, checking his tongue at the door, but the head-on approach hadn’t been the most successful one with the ladies thus far. Perhaps, something different might work… especially with Hermione Granger.
"L-look, I’m not the best listener in the whole world--"
She chortled. "You barely listen to yourself half the time."
Michael ignored her statement and continued speaking. "But if you, y’know… need someone to talk to--
Hermione eyed him dubiously. "Are you saying that I can talk to you?"
He stopped himself just short of rolling his eyes. "Uh, yeah. I’ve heard stuff about…" He swirled his hand in front of him, trying to urge it out of her first before he could say anything.
Hermione moved her head in sync with his hand. "You heard stuff about what, Michael?"
"About Weasley and…" He winced a bit, not wanting to say her name, especially if it was a sore spot with Hermione.
"The Giant Squid?"
"No, not the ‘The Giant Squid!" Michael said, his face crumpling in disbelief. "Lavender Brown, of course."
"Oh! You meant Lavender Brown," she said slowly. Michael looked at her flatly.
"Now you’re just mocking me, aren’t you?"
Hermione regarded him, a tiny smirk peeking out on her face. It grew the longer she continued to watch him. "I am a little bit. Did you think hearing about her would bother me?"
He shrugged. "I don’t know if I expected you to spin around three times and spit on the floor if I said her name. I was trying to be polite and not bring her up if she bugged you."
She looked slightly startled at his admission of politeness. "Um, thank you." Hermione creased her brow again; she kept her eyes on his face, apprising whether or not to speak. After a few moments, she decided to talk.
"It’s not that Lavender bothers me. Ron and I haven’t been together in over a year; I had moved on before he started dating Lavender again."
Michael nodded. "Look, it seems to me like you’ve been fixated on work even more lately, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with them."
Again, she sat in silence for a few moments, her eyes focused on his without wavering. She blinked. "It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t feeling slightly… sentimental about Ron and the clear progress he’s made with Lavender. But we’re all adults now. And I’ve got two eyes, I can see that both of them have grown as people."
Michael looked away to the right. He smiled and nodded. "Lav changed a lot our seventh year. You were a bit busy to notice, but she did a lot of good in the fight against the Carrows."
She inhaled deeply, releasing her breath with a long sigh. "Well, I’ve come to appreciate those changes now. What amazes me about the whole thing is that she’s trying to overcome whatever lingering awkwardness there might be between us. And she makes Ron happy, so I can’t complain."
"Perhaps, but you’re only ever here these days. You can’t deny that your hours have increased."
Hermione stared at him with a troubled expression. "Only by about thirty to forty percent. Really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not much at all."
Michael shifted his mouth from one side of his face to the other. He wanted to say a lot of things, but his tongue seemed to be, quite improbably, frozen to the roof of his mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I didn’t say anything."
She crossed her arms in front of her. Michael forced himself to match her peevishly amused expression with his own, rather than stare at the way her curls were falling out of her hair.
"Michael, you want to say something to me. I can tell."
He breathed out, feeling his nostrils flare slightly. "It just hasn’t seemed like you’ve had any fun lately."
Hermione blinked again, rapidly this time. "Fun? I have fun all the time!" She lifted the nearest book on her desk. "This is fun. I would think that you, as a Ravenclaw, would appreciate this type of fun. I would think that this type of fun appealed to you!"
Michael pulled the book away from her and set it aside on an empty space of her desk. "That’s not quite the recreational activity I had in mind." He found himself leaning forwards, so that they were mere centimetres apart. Apparently, Hermione noticed as well, because her eyes widened slightly. But, he also noted that she did not back away.
This thought brought out a little lopsided grin on his face. Perhaps there was something slightly more than the typical peer/colleague relationship between them. And it was not merely on his side alone.
Of course, he would be more assured of her attraction to him if he looked more like his old self. His handsome face still bore several scars from his seventh year, although there was a chance that she was drawn to such markings.
Still, if there was even a chance that Hermione was attracted to him, he wasn’t going to complain.
And suddenly, he felt nervous.
"Have you gone out with any blokes since Ron started seeing Lavender?"
Her head gave the tiniest shake. "If I thought that was any of your business… that my social life was any of your business--"
"I wouldn’t mind it if you dating became my business."
She let out a small gasp. "Michael…"
"Yes?"
Her mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds. She appeared to be flustered. "Wh-what… I just want to be clear."
Michael leaned in closer. "Go on."
"What, exactly, do you mean that you wouldn’t mind if my social life was your business?"
Michael quietly sucked in a breath, hoping his nerves would calm down. "Well, for starters -- this…"
He brought his good hand up to her face. Her eyes followed his movements, and he was infinitely thankful that she didn’t pull away from him. Smirking to cover his ever-increasing nervousness, he closed the distance between him and Hermione, touching his lips to hers.
The kiss did not last long, but it didn’t matter to Michael; he breathed in her sweet, floral aroma and tasted her lips on his. He felt a rush go through him at the moment of contact -- the softness of skin, the whisper of breath, the jolt when he realized she was kissing him back, as her lips parted ever so slowly…
He pulled away, managing to smirk, although he wanted to smile a great deal more. "See?" He circled his nose to come millimetres next to hers. "That’s the type of fun I’m talking about -- MMMPRHF!!"
It took his brain a few moments to register that he couldn’t speak.
Hermione had reattached herself to his mouth.
The shock gave way to surprise… which gave way to ohthehellwithit!! Michael drew her close to his body, his head turning left and right, making sure that he never broke this insane, but marvellous contact.
The snogging, this time, was not what he had anticipated. They were a tangle of lips and tongue and arms and hair, but he could not stop. It was delightful, being on the receiving end of such a kiss. He could feel her breath on his cheeks and lips, her hands touching his neck gently, winding around to the back of his head, her fingers weaving through his shaggy brown hair.
Feeling and seeing Hermione Granger -- normally so prim and professional -- unravel so completely because of him was even better than he had ever imagined.
She broke apart from the snog first and looked at him, her eyes and mouth resembling "O"s. Clearing her throat, she settled back into her seat, straightening out her blouse. Michael couldn’t wait for her to start talking.
"So," he said, panting slightly, running his hand through his hair, "does this mean that you would accept a dinner invitation from me? If I asked you?"
Hermione regained her poise. "Well, you would have to ask me to see what my answer would be."
Michael shut his eyes and groaned; he could hear her chuckle softly.
"Are you hungry now?"
He opened his eyes, seeing Hermione’s smiling face in front of him. "You could say that, yes."
"Very well." She got up and gathered her purse and robes. "Perhaps you were right, I could use a bit more of that type of fun in my life."
Michael reached for his cane, and stood up, offering his arm. "Care to join me tonight for a bite to eat then?"
She laid her palm on him. "Yes."
"And no ‘work’ talk."
Hermione glared at him. "We work together. It’s one thing we have in common--"
"And when we’re at the Ministry, we’ll discuss work. When we’re not, we’ll find other things to discuss. See how this all works out?" And he smirked; he could feel his confidence coming back. Hermione Granger liked him. She wanted him. Bum leg, scarred face, or injured body, it didn’t matter.
"Fine. No work talk. I’m sure both of us can think of things to discuss."
He winked at her and unwound his arm from underneath her hand. "After you, Miss Granger," he said, gesturing for her to leave the office first. Smirking and shaking her head, Hermione walked out first. Michael made sure to close and lock the office door behind him, never once taking his eyes off of her rather magnificent rear end.
Fin.