What's A Girl To Do???
Hermione paused in front of the hallway mirror; her eyes narrowing and a scowl creasing her otherwise smooth features as she rubbed at the annoyingly obvious hickey high on her neck, just under her ear. The damn thing had been bothering her for over an hour now and she was already wishing it gone, now that any afterglow had long since vanished. Why the man had felt the urge to mark her she did not know, what had been his name again? Mick? Nick? Dick? Hermione snorted to herself as she rubbed her tired eyes, managing to smudge her mascara even more. More like dickhead to be honest, the man had been impossible. All she'd wanted had been a nice uncomplicated night with a stranger and what had she gotten? A load of great sex sure, but then a heap of chauvinistic crap.
To be honest Hermione didn't really do that sort of thing much but being stuck in a confined house with over eight incredibly attractive men had left her, to be completely honest with herself, feeling incredibly horny and down about how oblivious they all were to her in any sort of romantic way. Admittedly at least half of them were totally unsuitable for any kind of romantic relationship, Ron and Harry being her best friends to the point to brotherhood, Sirius and Remus being twice as old as she and Draco and Blaise being quite probably gay… together.
But that still didn't explain why she had felt so incredibly emotionally upset lately, when a girl bothered to get dressed up and go out it had been one slap to the face when she had trod downstairs in her four-inch stiletto heels and a hell of a lot more cleavage on display she'd at least like an offer to be driven to where ever the hell she was going, even if she hadn't known at the time. An escort would have been nice… but none of them, not even one of the playful Weasley brothers had so much as got up from the couch as she'd stalked past them into the deep, forbidden territory of the night and all it's macabre secrets. No, they'd all been too engrossed in the football, which in itself was unusual for a bunch of wizards, most of whom has never watched television in their lives before now.
Still, Hermione thought with some grim pleasure as she cancelled her internal raging monologue and lowered herself onto a barstool into the kitchen, the ache between her legs had afforded her some pleasure, if only for a few precious hours… and again, to be perfectly honest with herself the memory charm she'd placed upon that arrogant sod Rick (that had been his name!) would certainly mean he'd never remember her had also afforded her great internal satisfaction.
Shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts, Hermione swivelled towards the miniature bar and placed her handbag upon its ebony surface. She reached behind her and slid down the zipper on her dress a little, so that scratchy edge of her collar, as gorgeously beaded as it was wouldn't bother her. Then taking a deep breath and sighing as it spilled out of her achy body she reached up to scratch at the hickey while pouring herself a vodka martini, stirred not shaken. She fought against making a minute grin as she secretly wished for her own private James Bond, sex god and emotional guru to stand before her and offer to shake up her life.
Across the room from her the television was playing quietly, so lightly she'd not even noticed as she'd entered, not softly at all, almost slamming the door behind her. Tentatively Hermione tilted her head and focused on the shimmering screen, she'd had one too many drinks tonight and it took a second for it to come into focus. It was some add for another mobile phone company, one of the proud sponsors of tonight's game against Manchester United (which admittedly had gone on a downhill run for a short period of time after Beckham had left) though surely that was long over by now. Hermione felt a saucy smile cross her lips as she sat there lazily, knowing she had been ravished tonight and she surely looked incredibly messy and slightly disgusting.
Why she'd bothered going out tonight she didn't know, she should have stayed in and merely watched the footy. Over twenty gorgeous masses of brawn running at each other to kick a ball might well have been an even substitute. Laughing softly at the direction her thoughts were taking in her well shagged and slightly drunken head Hermione raised her glass to David Beckham and his chiselled abs before drinking most of the rest of her martini down. As she finished the light suddenly blinked on and she had to close her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness. Eventually she opened them cautiously and upon finding that they weren't watering she turned to scowl at the moron who'd turned on the lights and was busy gaping at her in her too short red dress, with it's low neckline and unzipped zipper, her matching red four inch stilettos as well as the damned hickey resting just underneath her left ear.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Malfoy?" she growled, somehow managing to pull off a shrill undertone. He'd scared her, the bastard and therefore was deserving of her reverting to what he called his slave name. Now simply known as Draco he would guess that he'd pissed her off. To make matters worse Blaise Zabini stumbled into the light only seconds later and a deep baritone voice cut across the room.
"Ah but my dear Hermione, all the better to see you with, my dear." He chuckled and Hermione stifled the urge to roll her eyes as she swung her eyes over to the couch pushed up against the wall, her bedroom eyes dancing molten with lava as Sirius Black, but one of the current scourges of her life laughed at her expense.
Finally she tore her gaze away from all him to glare at her martini, which looked pathetically empty by the light of the bulb. She frowned at it and scratching her neck again she downed the rest of her glass. Putting it down from the counter she slipped off the barstool, hoping she hadn't just flashed the many men who were fast spilling into the room, several with wands at the ready, several moving sluggishly off the cough out of their sleepy stupors. She rolled her eyes now at how slow they were and glared at Sirius.
"Lights may be better to see me with but there's not a one of you who has any right to look at me like you're doing now!" she said, slurring her words slightly. She grabbed her purse and bent down to rip off her heels, finding that she was having trouble she gave up and attempted to walk as dignified as she could out of the room and towards the stairs in her heels before she collapsed with exhaustion.
"Hold it Hermione!" a voice snapped behind her as she paused in front of Charlie Weasley, whose eyes were taking in Hermione's dishevelled state with disbelief. She sighed, closed her eyes and prayed to several ancient deities for patience as she turned around to face the disapproving glares of one Harry Potter and shadow, Ronald Weasley. Both of whom were regarding her appearance with concern and brotherly-like determination.
"Who did that to your neck Mione?" Harry asked gruffly.
"More to the point, why the bloody hell you let anyone close enough to attack you?" butted in Ron with his typical overreacting capabilities.
"Tell us and we'll kill them just as soon as we kill you for going out alone without an escort!" pressed Harry, his lips pursed and his arms crossed in such a way that had she been a foot shorter and about a decade younger would surely have worked wonders with her immediate and tearful confession. As it was, their innocence astounded her and before she could think of anything to say that wouldn't make her seem a slut Draco giggled, a high pitched flutter that echoed around the room.
Yes, giggled, there was no other way to describe it.
Every head in the room swivelled to him in disbelief and even Blaise beside him studied him with care and some concern for his mental state.
"Sorry, sorry." He muttered, still giggling under his breath, as his grin grew more pronounced and a smirk more obvious upon the face.
"What the hell was that Malfoy?" came from an unexpected corner and Hermione wondered if she might be able to make a break for it but no, as she turned to escape Charlie and Bill became an impenetrable barrier in front of her, barring the way and Remus Lupin, his thin and lanky form still covered in shadow emerged from the corner of the room.
"Bloody hell." Hermione muttered to herself, cursing inside, did none of these bastards ever sleep? In front of her she noticed Bill had a watch and she turned sideways to see the time. Four o'clock? That couldn't be right. Realising she wouldn't be getting anywhere in a while she pouted provocatively, tossed her purse onto the couch and headed there herself to carefully lower herself onto the soft cushions and again she bent over to get her damn shoes off. The boys were still talking but she remained blissfully unaware as she attempted pulling the damn things off her probably swollen and blister-ridden feet. She even started cursing at the shoes for being so stubborn, no noticing when the gazes of quite a few of the men in the room (including Draco and Blaise as Ron turned red) realised from this angle they could stare down her cleavage… quite a ways in fact.
Eventually Sirius a few feet away, came to her aid, bending before her and removing the shoes with as much tact as possibly, leading her to fix him with a gimlet stare at the thought of how many times in his literally past life he had probably had experience with removing stiletto shoes from women all dressed up to play with the big boys. At his savvy grin she slunk backwards into the seat and folded her arms across her chest, playing with fire without realising it as she glared at him, even more so when he laughed at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead before seating himself beside her and supporting her tired body with his own upper torso. Hermione grumbled but didn't dare complain, he was too unpredictable that way.
Focusing her eyes on the bright light Hermione found herself meeting the irritation evident in Ron's eyes as he turned to her after the evaluating and sentencing of Draco for his most unmanly giggle. He (Draco) looked almost dejected and Hermione smirked and stuck her tongue out at him in challenge to which he openly gazed at her hotly, making her body churn with unexpected heat. She flushed in memory of other recent gazes and felt her body warm where it touched Sirius's. She dared not look at him, rather avoiding all eyes as Ronald Weasley's searching eyes and too fast questions batted at her rather tired and lowered defences. Here in the warmth of Sirius's arm she could probably get some sleep and as Ron and Harry behind him opened their mouths to say more Hermione's reason snapped.
"Why won't you tell us Hermione?"
"How dare you do this Hermione, you could have been hurt!"
"Oh shut up!" she snapped irritably. "The only time Nick, I mean Rick or whatever the bloody hell his name was hurt me was when I asked him too!" She paused for the effect to sink in and found herself fascinated by the interesting colour green Ron had turned.
"And that was well after I'd chased several others away, had had a few drinks, laughs and a dance or two… though not on any tables and was ready to go up to his charming, if slightly disappointing hotel room for several hours of…"
"Stop! No… Don't go on!" stammered Ron in time with Harry.
"We didn't realise you were into…"
"Or that you were even not a vir…"
The excuses faded out as both boys shuddered and rushed from the room, calling hastily goodbyes and goodnights and excuses about research and work to do. She might have laughed if she hadn't been so tired, her heart seeming to be going slower as she yawned, instinctively cuddling against Sirius's side, his grin malicious as he brushed the curls away from the oh-so-embarrassing hickey, but his arm was gently and comforting. Around the room the other men exited, their gazes appraising, their laughter bold and several comments drifted back to Hermione, making her stiffen in alarm and even anger. But Sirius laughed, holding her easily on his lap, the only one besides Remus (who had retreated to the bar), remaining. He stroked her hair, making her shiver, finding herself down in his lap to sleep. He hummed a tune and she started drowsing away to blackness.
"Our little kitten's all grown up." Hermione heard insistently through the great rumble in Sirius's chest.
"Only problem is, is it really a good thing for the others to have noticed at such a time…" the discussion continued, both men worrying over Hermione, whom each counted as theirs to protect and a precious friend, though in a very different way from Ron and Harry.
To Be Continued…