Work Text:
Draco was going to kill her. Repeatedly. There was no question that her well-known, well-connected manager would have the means to murder her, bring her back to life, and do it again. And again.
It wasn’t even her fault.
One minute, she was walking down the street, desperate for a bit of air and a lunch that was not provided by the hotel, and the next, a crowd of teen girls had noticed her bodyguard and swarmed him, asking if Paulina was in the coffee shop he’d been outside of.
She’s been standing a few feet away, about to step into a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint Harry had texted her with a message of “Has good reviews. Try it!”
It wasn’t surprising the fans hadn’t immediately noticed her. Used to seeing her on stage and at events in flashy clothing and sleek, auburn hair, not many people knew what she actually looked like. Honestly, she had Draco and his parents — and the rest of Malfoy Talent Agency — to thank for keeping her personal life a complete secret. No one would guess that the girl with no make-up and long curls was the sexy pop star that sang and danced her heart out in front of thousands.
But Thor was recognizable with his tall and muscular stature, dirty blond hair pulled into a man-bun that had become almost as infamous as Gaga’s meat dress. He and Charlie had been with her from the very beginning, had met her during the brief week when she debated using her real name professionally and before the Malfoys began cultivating an entirely new persona for her.
All that to say that her fans knew exactly who Thorfinn Rowle was and demanded to know where the flashy Paulina was.
She’d run. Well, she’d walked briskly away and through a door that led to what seemed like a nondescript restaurant. A petite woman greeted her and asked if she was waiting on others or if it would only be her that needed a table. Hermione paused, phone in hand, and bit her lip, weighing her options.
The protocol for a situation like this was simple.
- Get to safety and out of the vicinity of such fans immediately.
- Contact the bodyguard not on duty, as well as Draco — of the MTA representative if Draco wasn’t with her, which was a rare occurrence. Share coordinates to be retrieved.
- Remain in place, staying vigilant at all times.
- Should any fans find her, go back to Step #1 and repeat the process as necessary.
“Or we have a bar upstairs if you prefer?” The hostess was speaking to her again.
“Oh, um.” Hermione glanced down at her phone. Just then, she saw the familiar hulking figure of Thor at the corner of the street, glancing around furtively. The gaggle of girls behind him had grown. “Yes, okay, the bar sounds great.”
After being pointed in the right direction, Hermione climbed the stairs, glad she’d chosen comfortable flats and not the annoying fashionable choice her alter-ego would have picked. The upstairs area was mostly empty, with a couple at a small high-top and a couple of guys at the end of the bar. Choosing the seat furthest from them, she sat and stared at the messages that had come in.
Messages
DoM daddy (laugh emoji, vomit emoji) 11:46 AM
I WILL use the tracking app if I
have to. WHERE THE FUCK…Thunder God 11:46 AM
You’re not following protocol
Princess. This isn’t funny.asGUARDians 11:43 AM
Contact one of us RIGHT NOWRobin Hood 10:02 AM
did i come on too strong? your bestie is hot, grangerMum (loving smile emoji) 7:24 AM
Break a leg, tonight, sweetheart!
Dad and I are so proud of you!Ride or Die (motorcycle emoji, skull/bones emoji) Yesterday
Check that place out. Supposed
to have amazing gnocchi
“What are you having, sweetheart?”
Hermione looked up, ready to berate the smooth voice for calling her sweetheart , but her voice caught in her throat at the sight of him. Tall, dark-haired, and ruggedly handsome, the bartender was incredibly (almost disgustingly) attractive. He was smiling, gaze focused on her.
Waiting.
“Oh!” Hermione finally shook herself out of the stupor that had taken hold of her mind. “Uh, water with lime, and a Diet Coke with lime. Please.”
He didn’t blink an eye at the non-alcoholic order, and grabbed two glasses quickly. “Are you having any food today?”
A glance at the time on her phone reminded her she never made it to the Italian place with the supposedly amazing gnocchi. “Maybe?”
The bartender set two filled glasses on the bar and gave a quick nod. “Let me grab you a menu. Name’s Marcus. Just give a shout if you need anything.” It didn’t take long for Marcus to come back, a single sheet of paper in hand. “There you go.”
As soon as he wandered down the bar to the other patrons, Hermione pulled up her texts with her best friend and began chatting.
Ride or Die (motorcycle emoji, skull/bones emoji)
Hermione: OMG
Hermione: Harry!!Ride or Die: Yesss?
Hermione: I’m at a bar. Don’t ask. But there’s a bartender. And (panting emoji, flame emoji, panting emoji, flame emoji) MY GOD
Ride or Die: Mione. WTF??
Ride or Die: Why is Draco texting me? YOU RAN AWAY?!
Ride or Die: Bartender eh?Hermione: He’s lying
Hermione: This guy is hot. Name’s Marcus. Should I flirt? Ask for his number?Ride or Die: Why are you even asking?? WORK YOUR MAGIC (determined face emoji, wink emoji)
“Anything look good to you?”
Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from blurting out something along the lines of Yes, you. She swallowed before cocking her head and flashing him a smile. “What do you recommend?”
“We make a mean burger.” He shrugged. “We have some other dishes — all good, really — but I like my food pretty simple.”
“Alright. I’ll take you up.” She paused. “On the burger.”
One side of his mouth lifted to form a smirk. “Fries?”
“That’s fine, thanks.”
“I’ll get that in for you…”
Hermione blinked at the trailing off of his voice. “Hermione,” she introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Marcus.”
“Hermione,” he repeated. “Like The Winter’s Tales? ”
“I — Yes.”
He grinned. “It’s all my niece can talk about lately. That singer — Paulina? Apparently, her name’s from that same play. Who knew I’d learn more about Shakespeare now instead of high school. Anyway, your food should be out soon.”
He left again, this time to a new person just three seats down. Hermione drew in a shaky breath, glad for the transformation she underwent every time she performed or did an interview. Not for the first time did she send gratitude to Draco.
Who was calling her.
Her thumb hovered over her phone. She knew she should answer. If she didn’t, there was no doubt that he would utilize the tracking app he’d put on her phone with the promise he would only ever use it for emergencies.
Darting away and hiding from her bodyguard just a couple of hours before soundcheck was probably considered an emergency.
“Hello?”
“That is all you are allowed to say to me right now. Because you are going to LISTEN to me.”
Hermione bit her lip. Her manager was pissed .
“I give you a lot of leeway, Hermione. I bend over backwards for you because you’re not just my client. You know that.”
It was true. They were close in age, but Draco had grown up in the music industry with his parents, knew the ins and outs. When they first met after a local fair in Pennsylvania, they’d hit it off, became friends before starting a working relationship. She was incredibly thankful for him.
“I try not to ask much of you. I know how much you value your privacy. We created Paulina together.”
Well, that was a half-truth. Or a truth of three-quarters. She’d already been using the stage name at the local shows, but Draco had leaned into it when she signed her first record deal.
“But what I have ALWAYS asked was for you to be aware of your surroundings, to always be careful, AND TO FOLLOW THE FUCKING PROTOCOLS IN PLACE WHEN YOU ARE WITH SECURITY.”
Technically, she wasn’t with her secur—
“And don’t give me that shit that you’re technically without a bodyguard right now. Thor is still being followed and Charlie’s been dispatched to where you were last with Thor.”
Hermione wasn’t sure how that would really help. Charlie was just as recognizable as Thor.
“Now tell me where the fuck you are.”
He was really pissed. Draco wasn’t usually one to curse; he was the calm one, the stoic presence who made sure she was always taken care of.
“HERMIONE.”
“Can I speak now?”
That was probably the wrong thing to say, especially with the lilt of attitude infused in the words.
“Do not fucking start, Hermione. I’m so goddamn angry with you right now. You are scheduled for soundcheck in just over two hours and no one knows where the hell you are! Don't make me activate the tracking, Hermione.”
No. That would be cruel. Draco knew how much she valued her privacy and personal life. The tracking app was always there but not once had he ever used it, out of respect for her. She knew it would kill him to activate it, but she also knew he would if necessary.
“I’m…” She huffed at the phone. “I’m safe.”
A plate appeared in front of her. When she looked up, Marcus was staring at her, his jaw tense.
“Unless you have security I don’t know about, you are alone in New York City without any bodyguards, on the day of your concert. Your fans are everywhere, swarming this city.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “But I’m just… I’m having lunch is all.”
Marcus’ brows drew in as he continued to watch her. He mouthed Everything okay? to which she nodded.
“Hermione. Tell me where you are.”
“I… I don’t actually know.”
“Excuse me?”
“I walked into some restaurant to get away and I’m at their upstairs bar. I don’t even know the name of the place.”
“Then find out and text it to security in the next two minutes or I’m using the app.”
He hung up abruptly.
Hermione set her phone down next to her plate and stared at the food in front of her. Worse than the anger from Draco was the disappointment that had been laced in his words. It wasn’t often that he was disappointed in her; after all, she was the golden child of the agency, of her record label, even. She followed the rules, did what was asked of her, because it was worth it to be able to share her music.
“What… What’s the name of this place?”
Silence greeted her. For a moment, she thought maybe she was alone again, that the handsome bartender had left, but Hermione looked up to see Marcus’ concerned face.
“Are you in trouble?” He asked flatly.
“What? No. I just —”
“Because you don’t have to tell anyone where you are if you don’t want to.” His nostrils flared. “If you need help…”
Her heart fluttered and she cursed herself because now was not the time. “I — I’m not in trouble, not like that.”
“Trouble is trouble, sweetheart.” That time, she welcomed the nickname if only because his protective demeanor was making her want to swoon. “So you tell me — do you really need to know the name of this place?”
“Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I do.”
There was a beat, a few seconds when Hermione thought he wouldn’t give it to her, and she’d have to go downstairs to check or Google her location.
“Emerald City.” Marcus tapped his fingers on the bar top. “But I’m telling you now that I’m not letting you out of here if your situation doesn’t look safe.”
“Thanks.” She looked at him earnestly. “I mean that. Thank you.”
He nodded and left her when she began typing on her phone, though she noticed he stayed close while he prepped items behind the bar. Sighing, Hermione reread the chat happening with Draco and her security team.
3 People
DoM daddy: I’m not trying to be a jerk, H. Your safety is paramount.
DoM daddy: Give your location.Hermione: Place is called Emerald City. I’m just eating. I won’t leave. I’m safe, I swear.
Hermione: Please don’t come in fired up. No one recognizes meLo-Ki my fave ginger: OMG
Hermione: I’m sorry (unsent message)
It wasn’t long until Charlie showed up. Only halfway through her burger, she felt the familiar prickling on the back of her neck that meant she was being watched. Hermione turned her head and saw the large hulking form of her second bodyguard walking across the floor toward her. She watched as he settled into the stool next to her.
“Princess.”
“I hate being called that,” was all Hermione said in return before taking another bite out of her burger. A hand reached out and snatched a fry from her plate. “Hey!”
Her shout was enough to bring Marcus back over. “This man bothering you, sweetheart?”
Hermione sighed heavily, swallowed her food, and shook her head. ”No, no. Unfortunately, he’s with me.”
Charlie scoffed. “Unfortunately?”
Marcus squinted at her, ignoring the red-haired man for the time being. “You let me know if that ends up changing, alright?”
“Yeah okay,” she answered with the hint of a smile on her lips.
It was only then that Marcus turned his attention to her new companion and begrudgingly asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” As soon as the bartender walked away, Charlie turned to Hermione. “Sweetheart? No wonder you didn’t want to give up your location.”
“Charlie.”
The normally chipper and more playful security member suddenly shifted, his face tensing. “You didn’t call once you were no longer with Thor.”
She knew.
“Draco is livid. ”
That, she knew, too.
“That’s not like you.”
No. No, it wasn’t.
“What’s going on, Princess?”
Her food weighed heavy in her stomach, the taste no longer as delicious as when she first started eating. She sipped her Diet Coke slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. And all she could say was,
“I saw an opportunity, and I went for it.”
It wouldn’t be enough, she knew that. Charlie’s raised eyebrow confirmed her thought, but he stayed silent. Waited.
“I just wanted a break,” she mumbled.
“A break?”
“It’s dumb, I know, but like…” She flushed. “It was just lunch.”
She could feel Charlie studying her. Finally, he reached over and nudged at her plate. “Finish eating. I’m going to call Draco and let him know I’m with you.” He paused after standing, his hand finding her shoulder. “This wasn’t the time or place, but I’ll let him know you might need to get away during the next tour break, alright?”
Marcus returned after Charlie sequestered himself at a corner table where he could still watch over Hermione. He was quiet as he refilled her water, though he kept glancing at her, as though waiting for something. Hermione chewed thoughtfully, going over her options.
“You’re very attractive,” she said, just before he was about to walk away again. He brought his attention back to her, a touch of amusement in his eyes. As she picked at her fries, she continued. “I’m sure you hear that a lot. Especially as a bartender. I want you to know you’re getting a fabulous tip. Not just because of your looks, but honestly, that’s part of it.”
After a quick glance around to make sure he wasn’t needed anywhere else, Marcus leaned his arms onto the bar, leaning over. “Should I be flattered or offended? I’m leaning toward the first, but do you think I’m just a piece of meat?”
Embarrassment flooded onto Hermione’s cheeks. An apology on the tip of her tongue, she lifted her head to see him giving her a smirk, and she exhaled at the teasing look on his face. She felt a bit more confident. “Offended, absolutely. Then I’d have to apologize and beg you for forgiveness.”
Heat flashed in his gaze. “And do you like begging, sweetheart?”
“I could be persuaded.”
A beat. Then Marcus licked his lips. “I get off at —”
“Time to go, Princess.” Charlie interrupted their conversation, though he at least looked sorry that he did. “He wants to see you.”
Before Hermione could ask for a moment, before Marcus could even think to interrupt — and it definitely looked like he wanted to — Charlie placed two 100 dollar bills onto the bar. It’s more than enough to cover the meal, more than the promised tip Hermione had hinted about to Marcus, but it looked wrong. She stared at the money, dragged her eyes up to Marcus. He was still watching her, and he must have seen something on her face, because he gave a smile, one that looked genuine and trusting.
“Just in case… I get off at five tonight.”
And then Hermione was being swept away by Charlie, down the stairs and back out onto the streets of Manhattan. The walk was brisk, and Hermione felt like she was speed-walking with Charlie’s hand firmly planted at her lower back. She kept her head down, just in case there were any more groups of her fans, but mostly because she wanted to hide the disappointment she felt at not even getting the bartender’s number.
At a crosswalk, while they waited for the lights to turn, Charlie cleared his throat. “Hermione.”
“Yeah?”
He hesitated until Hermione looked up at him. “His name is Marcus Flint.”
Surprise and hope bloomed from her stomach.
“In about 20 minutes, a representative from MTA will arrive at Emerald City. They’ll ask for Marcus and provide him with three tickets to tonight’s show.”
“Three?” she asked tentatively.
“For his niece and a friend. And himself.”
Hermione’s brows drew together. “How did you —”
“He will also be given a set of passes. To visit you backstage after the show.”
“Charlie…”
“This is all Draco,” he said in a low voice, just in case anyone was listening to them. The traffic lights changed and he guided Hermione across the street. “You’ll get to see this Marcus fellow again. Alright?”
Knowing Charlie wouldn’t let her walk into anyone, or a lamp post even, Hermione took out her phone and sent a Thanks followed by more heart emojis than necessary to Draco. His only response was How far are you from the venue?
Hermione looked up and around. And there, across from her was Madison Square Garden, the marquee lit up with her image and name. She thought maybe she’d never been more excited for a show.
