A/N: Originally written for the HP Minifest 2015 on LJ! Many thanks to k_lynne317 for the beta!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Slytherins Can Be Charitable [When They Want to Be]
Marcus absentmindedly rubbed the cloth on the counter, the sound of Christmas music playing in the background. He looked around his empty pub and sighed. He didn't know why he bothered to open for Christmas when no one ever came.
Because you have no one else to spend the night with, his conscience reminded him. Oh, yes. That.
"I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need," Marcus began to sing, uncaring that he sounded awful. There was no one around to hear. "I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree."
Marcus frowned, considering closing early. There was no one in the pub and he doubted that anyone would be there for the rest of the evening. He made the decision. He'd close the place down and head home.
At that moment, the door chimed. Marcus groaned. Seriously, just as I decided to go home, someone shows up? He turned, ready to tell the person that he was about to close. His eyes widened when he realised who was standing in the doorway. "Granger?"
"Oh, yes," she said, reaching up and brushing some of her famous, wild curls from her face. "Sorry, I know its Christmas Eve and all, but I could really use a drink." She hesitated near the door. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not," Marcus said. "Come in and I'll get you drink."
"Thank you," Hermione said, walking further into the pub. She pulled off her coat, observing him. "You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Marcus Flint," he replied, giving her a smile. "I was a Slytherin, a few years older than you."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Marcus Flint? Oh goodness, I didn't even recognise you." She sat herself on a stool in front of the bar. "You look good."
"Thanks," he said, flashing her a grin. "It's amazing what seeing a dentist can do for someone," he said in reference to the crooked teeth he used to have.
"My parents are dentists," Hermione said, giving him a small smile. "I'll take a shot of Firewhisky please."
"Firewhisky?" Marcus asked, arching a brow at her as he grabbed a shot glass. "What's got you in my pub on Christmas Eve looking for Firewhisky? If you don't mind me asking," he added when he saw her frown slightly. He handed her the drink, pursing his lips when she immediately downed it.
"Well, since Ron and I've broken up a few months ago, I can't even stand going to the Burrow. Despite it being a mutual decision, Molly Weasley still treats me like I broke her poor son's heart, although everyone knows that's not the truth. I didn't want to spend Christmas Eve there and have snide remarks made to me the entire time. My parents live in Australia, they have since the war, and I just couldn't get the time off at St. Mungo's to go visit them for the holidays. I'm a medi-witch," she explained.
Marcus frowned. "You're telling me that a beautiful witch like yourself has nowhere else to go on Christmas Eve?"
She flushed at his words. "Can I get another drink?" Hermione handed him the empty glass.
He filled it. "But really, Hermione, no one deserves to be alone on Christmas."
"Oh? What about you? Why are you running an empty pub when you could be home with family?"
"I've got none," Marcus responded with a shrug. "The pub is my family. I've got acquaintances, sure, but none that I want to spend the holiday with."
"I understand," Hermione nodded solemnly before drinking her second shot.
Marcus studied the witch in front of him. An idea slowly formed in his head. "You know, we could go out, if you'd like. I mean, you're alone and I'm alone, so why don't we do something?"
"What?" Hermione looked sceptical. "You're being awfully nice, Marcus, but we barely know each other. You don't have to go out with me because you feel sorry for me."
"I don't feel sorry for you," Marcus quickly corrected her, placing his hands on the counter as he leant forward slightly. "I just thought it'd be nice to get away from the wizarding world. Maybe get some Chinese food in London or something. I'm sure there is a place open somewhere." He gave her a warm smile. "What do you say, Hermione?"
"I barely know you," she repeated quietly, sounding unsure of her words.
"You can get to know me," Marcus countered. He could tell her resolve was wavering. "Just dinner, nothing more."
"I still don't understand why you're offering," Hermione persisted.
Marcus sighed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck in slight frustration. "Call it the Christmas cheer or spirit or whatever making me want to do something good for someone. Slytherins can be charitable upon occasion." He smiled at her once more. "Last time I'll ask; please get dinner with me?"
Hermione was quiet for a moment before nodding. "What the hell, sure. I know a place we can go to."
"Great, let me just shut down the pub," Marcus said, making quick work of turning off the taps and shutting down the rest of the pub. Within moments, they were standing outside as he locked the door shut. "Shall you Side-Along me?"
She blushed slightly, taking his arm. "Hold on," she said before turning on the spot, Disapparating with him.
Marcus stared at the menu in his hands, trying to decide what he would order. Hermione had taken him to some small, dingy Chinese restaurant that was on a side street in London. While the place lacked charm, Hermione had assured him that the food was good.
"Have you decided?" their waitress asked, startling Marcus from his thoughts. Looking up, he smiled at her.
"I'll have the sautéed scallops with Chinese greens, please," he placed his order.
"And I'll have the curry chicken," Hermione said, handing her menu to the waitress.
"I'll put those in," the young girl said, turning on her heel and heading towards the kitchen.
"So," Hermione began, taking a sip of her water. "How did you end up owning a pub? Weren't you good at Quidditch? I had thought you would have pursued that."
"I did my first year out of Hogwarts," Marcus answered. "I played for a minor league for a year and absolutely hated it. The trainings were awful, and by the end of one season, I hated the sport. I never wanted to play another Quidditch match again. When my parents passed, they had left a substantial amount of money that I had originally put away to save. After realising that Quidditch wasn't what I wanted to do, I decided to open a pub. Using some of my inheritance, I purchased the land and built The Crow and the Butterfly. The pub is my life. It can be tough sometimes, but I really enjoy it. What about you? How did you decide to be a medi-witch? Knowing who you are and your reputation, I'm sure that there were plenty of open doors for you."
Hermione gave a small shrug. "I've always enjoyed helping people. There was a big push for me to go into the Ministry, but I quickly turned that down. I don't care much for politics. I didn't want a job that would involve a lot of publicity. I hate being in the press. I studied under Poppy Pomfrey while I made up my seventh year at Hogwarts, and then enrolled in the medi-witch program at St. Mungo's. I work in the children's ward, my specialty in reversing accidental magic. I really enjoy it."
Marcus smiled at her. He could see that she was a kind person, one who put a hundred percent into her work. He appreciated that in a witch. He also understood why she didn't want a job with publicity – Rita Skeeter always wrote nasty things about her in the paper. He imagined that it would be worse if she were in the press more often. "It's always important to do something that you love."
"It is," Hermione said quietly, giving him a small smile. Her eyes lit up. "Our food is here."
"Marcus, you didn't have to pay," Hermione said for the millionth time as they exited the small restaurant and began to walk down the street.
"Christmas spirit," he responded airily. "Can't a guy treat a pretty witch to dinner?"
"I suppose," Hermione responded, pulling her coat around herself tighter. "It's chilly out."
"I suspect it'll snow soon," Marcus commented, having noticed that the air was indeed chilly. He discreetly used his wand and cast a warming charm on her.
"Thank you," she said in appreciation. "For everything."
"You don't need to thank me," Marcus said. "It was my pleasure."
"I was surprised to see you had Muggle money," Hermione commented. "Impressed, more like it."
Marcus chuckled. "You'll find, Hermione, that I'm full of surprises." He noticed that her cheeks turned pink at his words. "You know, before we part ways, there is something you could do for me." He stopped and turned to face her, waving his wand behind his back.
"What?" Hermione asked, looking at him curiously.
Marcus smirked, pointing upwards. Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped slightly when she saw the mistletoe he had conjured and charmed to float above them.
"Marcus," she said shakily.
"It's Christmas," he replied as if that was all she needed to know. Hermione's blush deepened and Marcus chuckled. He reached out, taking her hand and pulling her close to him. "May I?"
"You may," she replied breathlessly, her brown eyes wide as she peered up at him.
Marcus placed one hand on her waist, the other lightly cupping her cheek. He lowered his head, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He pressed his lips against hers, a jolt of electricity running through him as their lips met. The kiss only lasted a second, but it was enough to leave Marcus wanting more. His cock stirred as thoughts filled his mind, but he reluctantly pulled away, noticing that her eyes were open in surprise.
"Did you feel that?" Hermione asked quietly, reaching up and touching her lips. "A surge of magic or something?"
"I did," Marcus said with a nod, doing his best to get an image of her naked out of his mind. Later, he told himself. He'd have a nice wank and some eggnog before heading to bed.
"What do you think that means?" she asked.
Marcus smiled at her. "I think it means I need to take you out to dinner again some time soon."
"I'm free New Year's Eve," Hermione offered, the light blush on her cheeks once more.
"I'll owl you," Marcus promised. He reluctantly removed his hand from her waist and stepped back. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
"Merry Christmas, Marcus," Hermione said. "I'll await your owl." She turned, Disapparating on the spot.
Marcus let out a sigh, shaking his head as he smiled. His Christmas Eve had gone better than he had expected to, and he was now looking forward to New Year's Eve.
"Perhaps Christmas miracles do happen," Marcus said as snow began to fall around him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he began to walk, humming the tune to All I Want for Christmas is You.