Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Title: It Goes Like This

A/N: This fic is for ClumsyDolphin. Thank you, Clumsy, for the motivation to write another Marcus! Just love him!

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"It's snowing."

Hermione sighed, annoyed with his nonsensical observation during a rather exasperating and repetitive argument. It was at that moment that she made the decision. "I can't do this anymore, Ron."

He turned to her. "What do you mean?" He was strangely calm. He knew what she meant and knew that it was time, though he didn't want to give up. They'd only been together for five months, six days and two hours. They'd moved in together mere weeks after the last battle; when Kingsley, newly appointed Minister of Magic, declared it safe to 'get to living and start rebuilding'.

When she looked back at her boyfriend, her eyes were burning a little. "I love you Ron, but not in the way I should. We are much better friends than bedfellows. We can't continue arguing and hurting each other…"

He nodded. "So what do we do? Who do we tell first? Mum or Harry?"

Relieved at his agreement, Hermione inhaled and sat down in front of the fire. "Harry will probably be comforted if we tell him together and he sees that we aren't…"

"Bitter?" he furnished.

She huffed with humor and nodded. "Bitter."

"Mum…"

"She never really liked me. Perhaps you can break the news to her after we tell Harry?" She was looking up at him through her dark lashes.

Ron looked affronted. "Don't bat your eyes at me, witch!" he teased. "You're the brave one!" After a moment of silence, his head popped up. "Harry can tell her!"

Hermione liked that idea and laughed at the pair they made; such cowardice from war heroes!

After a brief logistics discussion and agreement that Ron would keep the flat, she embraced him and set plans to find herself a place to live.

oOo Chapter One

"Well, look at that," a strikingly beautiful wizard commented, looking at the lovely witch, who was walking across the cobblestoned street.

The blond wizard next to him shifted focus to his friend's line of sight. His eyebrows rose. "Nice."

"I love spring time. Flowers blooming, bees buzzing-"

"Witches wearing short skirts and skimpy tops."

"Exactly."

The four wizards sat watching the young woman from their table at the café. It had been unseasonably warm, resulting in the afternoons being perfect for witch-watching.

They watched her move slowly from one boutique to another, pausing at the window display of rows upon rows of shoes.

Draco smiled. "Gets them every time."

Their mood soured a bit as a chunky redhead lumbered up and wrapped a clumsy arm around the witch. "Weasley," Blaise drawled, clearly unhappy with the intrusion on his view.

"Wait, that's not Granger is it?" Draco asked, looking for some resemblance to the bushy-haired witch he knew in school.

"When did she get back?" Pucey asked, remembering the headlines when she left the country four years ago.

"When did she grow up? I don't remember those lovely legs belonging to anything Granger," Blaise commented.

The large, dark-haired wizard, sitting to the left of Pucey hadn't spoken a word since he'd first noticed her. Marcus Flint appraised the slight witch with approving eyes.

OoOoO

"'Mione! There you are. Been looking everywhere for you. Why are we looking at shoes? They're for girls."

Hermione looked at her long-time friend, pointedly, mentally wondering how he'd somehow not seen this even after their brief stint as a couple.

Ron got the picture and stuttered, "Not that you're not a girl, but these shoes are for girls." He paused then continued when his statement had not placated the quick-tempered witch. "I mean these are too high for you to walk in, you know? Impractical," he said and looked at her with hope in his eyes. He didn't want to be Hexed yet again. "And everyone knows that Hermione Granger is anything if practical."

Hermione smirked and looked down at the high heels she was wearing: beige strappy sandals that increased her height four inches.

Ron followed her gaze and grunted. "Right. Well, I'll just go check out the new Quidditch Supply," he mumbled. Ron clumsily kissed her on the cheek and left.

Hermione smiled after him, shaking her head at his total oblivion then wiped the saliva off of her face.

She was a confident witch; though the confidence had been hard won after a couple of years on her own without her two best friends and familiar surroundings, but coming back, she realized that she still held some insecurities as to her appeal to the male population. There were times when she liked being impractical, she thought, with a smile.

Hermione sighed and looked at her reflection in the window. She was wearing a linen cream-colored sundress with spaghetti straps and muted flowers. It was snug fit to her natural waist then straight and flowy to the middle of her thighs. The seam was hidden by a brown leather belt, which matched her shoes.

She'd lost her baby weight during war, but she still had sported a round face and slight potbelly. University had changed that. Her round face and potbelly were gone now, replaced by sharper features and longer-looking limbs. Exercise had become a habit since then and now she was slender and lithe and toned.

Hermione smoothed her hair; the soft breeze had tossed a few strands around her face.

She'd cut it upon her University graduation, but it had since grown back thicker, if that were possible, but not frizzy. It was wavy and dark russet in color. It fell to just beneath her shoulder blades.

Her eyes focused on the reflection in the window once again; her body and dress. Everything looked just fine, she thought.

Before moving to enter the shoe establishment, her eye caught the four wizards at the table behind her. They were watching her. Probably trying not to laugh, she thought, feeling silly to have been caught inspecting herself.

She recognized the platinum blond hair: Malfoy. His presence didn't spark any kind of negative feeling. They were adults now. The others only looked vaguely familiar to her. She assumed that they had attended Hogwarts as well and that she'd seen them around.

Blinking, she tilted her head. They were smiling… at her. Then, just as she felt the burn of embarrassment on her cheeks, one of them waved. It made her giggle, even if they were only tearing the mickey.

Opting to play a bit of hard-to-get, she squared her shoulders and walked through the door of the shoe shop, wearing a slight smile in plain view.

oOoOo

Pucey chuffed as Granger wiped at her face. "He slobbered on her."

"Yuck. Weasley slobber," Draco said with a scowl.

This new Granger turned to face the window once again. She stood there not moving.

"She must really like shoes," Blaise answered.

"She's not looking at the shoes," Pucey informed them.

"She looks fine; more than fine," Draco snapped.

"Don't be a boor, Draco. Wouldn't you wonder why Weasley let you go and Potter never made his move?" Blaise asked.

Draco thought he had a point, but then wondered aloud. "Maybe Potty did make his move. Maybe that's why she left Weasel-bee."

No one commented.

Marcus smiled. "She's not looking at herself anymore; she's watching us watch her."

They all smiled.

Blaise waved just to ensure she knew that they knew.

It made her drop her head and hide a smile. Soon after, she squared her shoulders and she walked inside.

"I think we should welcome her back to town. What say you?" Marcus asked already standing and pushing in his chair.

Draco followed suit. "I've always been curious as to how witches walk in such devices."

oOoOo

Hermione distantly heard the doorbell ring as another customer entered, but didn't pay it any mind. She was torn between the slightly pinkish beige Peacock heels and the lace up Oxford pumps. She decided to try on both pair: one on one foot and the other on the other foot.

Walking back and forth, watching her feet in the floor mirrors, she thought they felt comfortable, made her feet look pretty and didn't pinch her toes at all; this led her to remain undecided. Twisting each foot this way and that, not paying attention to her surroundings, she startled when a deep voice spoke so close that she felt the warmth of his breath on the skin of her shoulder.

"Both look lovely on your feet, Granger."

Hermione wondered briefly why she hadn't noticed the other person's feet in the mirror. She turned to face the speaker. Instead of looking eye to chin as she did with Ron and Harry, she was face to chest.

Time slowed as her mind adjusted to this new development. Her eyes took in every detail of his dark collared shirt that fit comfortably snug over his broad and decidedly muscled chest. Her eyes skipped across the wide expanse of his solid looking shoulders, his thick corded neck, with a dark pointed tattoo peeking out from under his collar and across the pulsing vein, which sped up slightly as she perused. Those same brown eyes slid over his very masculine jaw line, defined cheekbones and dark-as-ink blue eyes. She immediately took a step back when their eyes met. His were twinkling with amusement and hers were uncertain and mildly embarrassed.

She smiled hesitantly at the wizards watching her drink in the form of the man in front of her. She swallowed the thickness in her throat, and looked for a familiar face. "Hello, Dra- Malfoy."

Draco smiled. It was disarming. It dawned on her at that moment why the girls all had spoken so …highly of him during school. She hadn't thought he was anything but vile then, but now she thought he was rather dashing, with his hair a bit longer and slanted over his forehead to the corner of his eye.

They watched each other only for a moment before he inhaled and moved to the side, but in that moment, pasts were forgiven and a new start was embarked. "You remember Blaise Zabini?"

The dark Italian nodded his head, took her hand and bowed to kiss her knuckles. "Hermione," he greeted.

Hermione blushed and nodded. "Blaise, it's nice to see you again."

Her eyes were moving to the two wizards waiting patiently for an introduction.

"This is Adrian Pucey. And the behemoth looking at you like you're his last meal is Marcus Flint. He and Pucey were upper classmen during our first and second years at Hogwarts." Draco finished the introductions and smiled as Hermione's eyes roamed hungrily over Marcus' large muscled form. She had to mentally scold herself in order to form a passably polite greeting. As it was, she panted out their names, making them smile and her blush deeper.

They stood there, eyeing each other up. The seconds ticked by in mutual adoration until the portly sales lady interrupted. "Shall I box the shoes for you, miss?"

Hermione twitched then looked down at the shoes. "Yes, both pair, please."

"Is that all for you today?" the sales lady asked, with a disapproving eye to the four wizards still mentally undressing the small witch.

"Yes, I'm all done. Thank you."

Not knowing what to do or say, Hermione shifted from one bare foot to the other.

"Will you be walking around barefoot the rest of the day?" Adrian asked, his green eyes twinkling with humor at her apparent discomfort.

"We wouldn't mind, Granger. You have pretty feet. I could stand to look at them all day," Blaise added, licking his bottom lip.

"Or sucking on those delicious toes," Marcus mumbled.

Hermione didn't quite hear what they said, but she did hear Draco hiss at them.

Hermione felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. Placing her shoes back on her feet, she stood. The sales lady handed her the boxed and bagged purchase. Hermione looked at her with a curious expression.

"The blond paid."

Hermione's eyes met the over-confident gray eyes of her school nemesis. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Draco. I can pay for my own shoes."

Draco smiled at her haughty tone. "But it was my pleasure to buy you something nice."

Blaise wanted to diffuse the situation before it concluded with a whining Malfoy and an angry, absent, Granger. "Where shall we go next, Hermione? Perhaps the ladies boutique a few stores down?"

Hermione blinked, understanding dawning. She was slightly offended. She realized that she'd been gone a while, but surely these wizards didn't think they could run rough shod over her. Was this type of domination accepted by the witches they encountered on a regular basis? Probably, she surmised. Most women loved take charge men; she did as well, but there was a time and a place, neither of which was the here and now.

Smiling the sweetest most tolerant smile she could muster, which made the hairs on Blaise's arms stand on end, she said, "I don't know where you are visiting next, but I am going to the book store. And Draco, I will pay you back for my shoes. Of that, you can be certain." It was clear that there was no 'we' in that equation.

It was a matter of moments for her to take her bag from the proud sales lady, and click clack out of the store with four wizards staring at her back and looking confused.

"Did she just decline our company?" asked Adrian, who hadn't heard the word 'no' in a decade, and that was by his mother, who changed her mind a moment later when he pouted at her.

Marcus chuckled. "I believe she did."

Draco smiled, too.

Blaise nodded. "She's a feisty one. Shall we?"

Marcus was out the door before they had finished speaking. He made to catch up to the uppity witch and let her know that it was not that easy to be rid of him.

He caught up to her just as she turned down the aisle for Thriller/Romance in the book store. It surprised him enough for him to lose his current train of thought. "Which is it, Granger? Thriller or Romance?"

Hermione tensed then sighed and turned to face him. Meeting his curious stare made her heart flutter a bit and her stomach to twist pleasantly. "Thriller, of course. I love it when the stalker is revealed and the stalk-ee gets to punish him for his assumptions."

Before he could share his rather dirty retort about him liking to be punished, especially if she was doing the punishing, Draco, Blaise and Adrian caught up the duo.

"And we can't forget that the stalker's merry band of miscreants is publically flogged for their association," Hermione added, dryly.

"I didn't picture you for Romance, Granger," Draco said in response, making them all laugh.

Adrian picked up a book and made a face at the cover. "You read this?"

Hermione eyed the cover: a large muscled warrior with long waving hair (obviously in a windy part of town) was holding a sword in one hand and a scantily clad, overly busty woman over his knee. His other large hand was cupping her cheek and she looked to be swooning to the point of total incapacitation.

Hermione shrugged, noncommittally. Maybe she'd pick it up on the way out.

Reading her correctly, Blaise asked, "What could you: Hermione Granger, know-it-all academic, possibly get from a book like this?"

"I like …words. And many of these types of book provide a more granular …view of events."

"What types of events?" Marcus wondered aloud, watching the heat from her skin travel from between her breasts up her neck and bleed onto her cheeks.

She closed her eyes. "You know what types of events, Marcus!" she hissed.

His name rolling from her angry, embarrassed lips went straight to his cock. He vowed to make her say his name like that as often as he could.

Blaise was chuckling and Adrian was fighting the urge to do the same.

Hermione huffed in indulged frustration as she saw the humor in their catching her in this aisle and the subsequent conversation. Soon, she couldn't hold it any longer and burst out giggling breathlessly.

The five were causing a stir, since they were all laughing uproariously.

That was until the mood dwindled and then ended altogether when a familiar antagonist intruded. "'Mione, what are you doing with …them?" Ron asked, scowling.

He then pulled Hermione roughly to his side with a beefy arm. "You can't have her!" he told them, pointing a stiff, stubby finger at them.

Hermione, irritated at the prevalent misogynistic attitudes, pushed away from the seething redhead. "I'm not a shiny new toy for you to play with, Ronald Weasley! Or you either!" she snapped at the four.

Inhaling loudly, she announced, "I'm leaving," and twisted, Disapparating with a quiet pop. The book she was holding dropped to the floor with a flomp sound.

Four angry eyes turned to Ron. "Nice one, Weasel. Do you repel all pretty witches or just her?"

Ron narrowed his gaze. "What do you want with her anyhow? It's just 'Mione; the Mudblood," he whispered that last part, "her blood status hasn't miraculously changed since the war."

Their expressions were somber. "But we have," Draco said before he, too, Disapparated.