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The creak of a foot stepping on an old floorboard seemed especially loud in the darkness, and Hermione nearly startled at the noise.
Sure, she's the one who made the noise, but that didn't make it any less frightening.
Hermione really wasn't a fan of the dark. She wouldn't say she was scared of it, per se, but she liked to avoid it when she could.
Unfortunately, it was something she couldn't avoid on this night.
The building she was standing in was a dilapidated farmhouse that belonged to a prominent wizarding family. It had been abandoned for years and was a hot spot for spectral and non-being activity.
Employed by the Spirit Division of the Ministry of Magic, Hermione was working on a project that involved studying the effects familial curses passed through generations had on non-corporeal beings. She'd hit a dead-end in her research and needed to observe ghost activity in an area that was rife with it.
She justified her decision to sneak into the Flannigan house by telling herself it had been empty for so long, surely no one would mind. She simply didn't have the patience to wait for a permit, so she slipped in under cover of night, hoping to watch a few ghosts and then go home to a glass of wine and a good book.
"Find what you were looking for, Nancy Drew?"
Hermione's hand flew to her throat as she gasped, spinning towards the voice that had spoken from somewhere in shadows.
Boots thumped against the wood floor as the murky shadows melted into the shape of a man.
Harry.
"Oh, thank goodness it's you. Don't sneak up on me like that!"
A disbelieving laugh rumbled through the abandoned house.
"My apologies, miss. Next time I'll let the intruder know when I'm coming."
"I am not an intruder—"
"You entered a home that's not yours without permission. I believe that's pretty much the definition of intrusive."
He had a stupid smirk on his face that she could see in the dim light of the moon that shone in through the broken windows.
"The wards alerted the Flannigans. Since I was on call tonight, I get the pleasure of taking you in."
"What? I meant no harm. I'm just doing my job!"
He chuckled again, and she wanted to slug him.
"Do it with permission next time, love. Come on, turn around now."
Steaming, Hermione presented him with her back, and he—gently, in his defence—ran his palms down her arms, crossing her wrists at the small of her back and holding them with one hand.
She felt his warm breath stirring the hair at her nape. He was awfully close. Did he do this with every unsavoury character he arrested?
In her ear, he whispered, "The Flannigans don't want to press charges, they simply want you out of their house."
When she tried to wriggle out of his grip upon realising he wasn't really arresting her, he held firm, his free arm crossing over her belly and pulling her tight against him.
Oh boy.
Oh man, actually. He was all firm muscle and hard edges pressed against her back, and the way they fit together was delightful. She was still just as enthralled by him as she'd been the first time they'd come together. She'd never tire of his touch.
When Harry pushed her hair off her shoulder with his chin and pressed wet kisses along the line of her neck, Hermione decided to play along.
When she wiggled her bum and pushed back into Harry's body, his arm tightened around her.
There were bumps and thumps coming from various areas of the house as the ghosts became more active the later it got.
In what she hoped was her most sultry voice, Hermione said, "Why don't we go somewhere that's not occupied by the ghosts of the dead, Officer? Promise I'll cooperate."
She punctuated her statement with another wiggle and this time Harry growled in her ear, turning on the spot and Apparating them to a place she hoped contained a bed that still had all four of its legs.