The Jock and the Swot

Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!

And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!

Only one more chapter after this one!

Enjoy!

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Hermione felt better after Rowle left the following morning. There were only two days left in the term and then she'd get a blissful three weeks with him. As much as she was looking forward to it, she was also nervous about it. She had only met his mother under the worst sort of circumstances, and the last time she had seen the woman, she'd been naked, laying on her son's chest. It certainly didn't leave the best impression.

The trip back to London was uneventful. Hermione spent the time buried in her research. She had a few spells that were really close, she just needed to find the right resources to complete them. It made her wonder what the library at Rowle Rock was like. She knew the Malfoys had the largest private library in wizarding Britain and perhaps not all old pureblood families were the same in this regard, but she hoped the Rowle's were.

She was also desperate for information on soulbonds, and if what Rowle had said was true, then they, out of anyone, would have information about them. She hoped, anyway. If not, she'd write Malfoy to see what they had on soulbonds. Malfoy knew that she was soulbound to Rowle but had refused to tell her. That begged the question of why? Was it just to torture her? Which, given Malfoy's antics when they were younger wouldn't be beyond possibility, but he'd been rather decent to her over the last year or so.

The moment she was off the train at King's Cross, Rowle had his arms wrapped around her.

"Missed you," he murmured into her hair. Hermione breathed him in, relishing his scent in a way she would never admit to anyone.

"It's only been two days," she replied, pulling back and smiling up at him.

"Two days too long," he said. "Come on, let's get your trunk and go."

Rowle Apparated them both to the windswept moor that Rowle Rock was located near. Rowle Rock turned out to be a squat tower, perched in a lake. There was a stone bridge that led to the front door and at least four floors that Hermione could see.

"Is it medieval?" Hermione asked as Rowle led her down the path toward the bridge.

"Late 1500s," he replied. "And bigger on the inside than it looks."

"Looks plenty big enough," Hermione said with a little laugh. She wondered what he would have thought of her parent's small three-bedroom on the outskirts of London. He would probably find it was absolutely minuscule. The idea of Rowle standing in her parent's sitting room brought a smile to her face. It was quickly wiped away when she recalled reality. Her parents had moved to Australia and no longer lived in London. The small house she had grown up in was long sold.

Determined to enjoy her holiday, Hermione put her parents and their choices to the back of her mind. She had three whole weeks with Rowle.

"Wait, I don't even know if you have any siblings," Hermione said just as they reached the door in a mild panic. "Or your father? Is he going to hate me?"

Rowle smirked down at her. "Probably. But since he's been in Azkaban for three years and has another twenty-two to go on his sentence? Well, I don't actually care much what he thinks." He slid a hand down to rest on the small of her back. "No siblings. It's just me and mum. And you've already met her."