Crossed Wires

So, um... I'm back. It's been a while. I wanted to work on my other story but I'm afraid that it's beyond me at this point. I will get to it eventually. Things are complicated and not a lot of fun for me at the moment, and it seems that I need to be in a good mood to write about complicated and not a lot of fun things for other people.

SOOOOOO, here's the start to a little sequel for Your Call Could not be Connected. "Your Call" is not essential reading for this to make sense but it would probably help. There will be further chapters - two or three depending on how I split it. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger put a lot of thought into her wardrobe choice, just she put a lot of time and effort into almost every aspect of her life. "Meticulous" was one word that had been used sevaral times to describe her. The other words were decidedly less complimentary. Hermione knew she was far from meticulous, or any of those other words, because meticulous people didn't forget things like towels when they showered... Sure, she had only done that once, but it was one time too many. And surely, the very definition of meticulous excluded such glaring oversights as forgetting towels. Come to think of it, "pedantic" was one of those words she heard a lot of too.

"Easily distracted" usually wasn't...

To outsiders, it may have seemed that Hermione didn't spend much time following styles and updating her wardrobe with the changes in colour and cut, but she didn't particularly aim to give that impression. In fact, she had decided early on in her career to cultivate a decidedly different impression. Hermione Granger was a professional, and she chose her outfits to reflect this.

While her friends were taking full advantage of the post-war euphoria, Hermione had stepped in to cover personnel shortages at the Ministry and, in doing so, shot up several steps in the official hierarchy. Attire that verged on conservative and plain was a safe option, she figured, for a young witch whose near-meteoric rise through the Ministry ranks had already raised several eyebrows.

She had learnt that particular lesson very quickly into her first week of working at the Ministry, when photographs appeared in the Daily Prophet accompanying an article by Rita Skeeter that argued in no uncertain terms that the quick succession of promotions that had fallen to Hermione was due to more than just her appearance of credibility in the severely compromised Ministry and prodigious work ethic (of course, the Daily Prophet chose not to mention anything about credibility or work ethic). Hermione admitted that her friendship with Harry Potter and her role in defeating Voldemort may have somewhat helped her ascent, but Skeeter's article and the grainy photos accompanying it hadn't focused on that either.

After that, style had sunk way down the list in Hermione's consideration, after her professional image, the longevity of wear, comfort and ease of cleaning. Cleaning was especially important when in regular contact with the Weasley family: spells weren't always enough and the best dry cleaners in town couldn't compete with even half the stains accumulated from the twins' pranks, Ron's eating habits and an ever expanding brood of the next generation of rambunctious Weasleys and Potters.

If people called her clothes 'matronly' and 'dull', so be it. They had obviously never had a four page newspaper spread dedicated to their... "body of work" (Skeeter did have a way with words, even if she was an unscrupulous bitch).

It wasn't strictly accurate, then, to say that Hermione didn't care for clothes or trends. She liked clothes, but she felt a greater attachment to her reputation. It was far more important that the office gossips notice her commitment to work than Barry from the Dept. for Public Works notice her "shapely pair" (Skeeter's words again, without any clarification which pair the 'shapely' comment alluded to). The office gossips had recently been whispering that Barry was gay, anyway, so he was mostly likely uninterested in any of her, or any other woman's, pairs.

That night, though, was a Friday. There were no office gossips to worry about and hopefully no nosey journalists either. Come that Friday night Hermione's worries weren't over full-body coverage. The image she was hoping to send was anything but professional.

Hermione Granger had a date. So there, Barry!

A date... A first date. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

She hadn't been on a date in quite a while (although there hadn't been a lack of offers after that Skeeter article), let alone a first date. It had been over a year, in fact, even though she had been in a relationship. Long term relationships seemed to be less about dates and dinners out, and more about TV time and take away.

Not so much terror, but also very little excitement.

To add to the 'first-first-date-in-years' nervousness, Hermione was faced with a dilemma. And this wasn't one of those easily solved, just go ask your friends for advice and reassurance, dilemmas. This was a never-speak-about-it-to-anyone-because-you-can't-help-but-cringe-even-now-not-to-mention everyone-will-judge-you-what-were-you-thinking? dilemma. This was a dilemma. This was... new:

What, exactly, to wear on a first date with a man who had already seen her naked?

A man, who she had purported to hate just one week ago, who had seen her naked...

A man who would undoubtedly place highly among Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors, should such a list ever be compiled. A rich, handsome, successful and witty man – all things that she hadn't been able to admit a few short days earlier because at that time she would have insisted he was still an enemy.

An enemy who had seen all of her entire body in its most unforgivingly naked state.

Draco Malfoy had seen her naked...

Draco Malfoy, who she couldn't quite bring herself to call an enemy any more.

Malfoy may no longer have been an enemy, but he had still seen her completely, entirely, totally, absolutely, fully nakedly nude... without any clothes on at all. Not even her friends had seen that!

Well, Ron had, but...

Really, she was getting far too worked up about this 'naked' thing, when there were much bigger issues in life...

Like, should she wear her hair up or down?

Forty minutes later, Hermione stood naked in front of a full length mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.

Half of her wardrobe littered the bed and floor, the few sexy dresses and tops she owned that hadn't seen light of day since that Skeeter article pooled alongside the severely cut and dun-coloured work clothes. Short skirts, long skirts, trousers, jeans, camisoles, button ups, jumpers and jackets, Hermione had tried and discarded them all.

After the caught-naked-out-of-the-shower incident, she was hard pressed to find an outfit that communicated a comfortable middle ground between 'keep your eyes to yourself, you dirty perve' and 'come on in, the water's fine'. Hermione wasn't at the shared showers stage yet, although she was fairly certain Draco would offer, if only to see her reaction. However, if she was perfectly honest, she did want Draco Malfoy to look – she was just in two minds over how much she wanted him to be able to see.

In theory, her outfit probably didn't matter, as he had already seen her naked before they were even on friendly terms, which meant that she could turn up to a date in her underwear and it would still be demure in comparison... Whatever the theory, it was different in practice.

The rules had changed in light of certain events.

The subtle allure of cleavage could be openly provocative when he already knew what her breasts looked like (it was true, the left was slightly larger than the right); trousers that hugged her legs and bum might be an open invitation for him to imagine how she had looked without them on; even the smallest slit in a skirt would only point to things he had already seen like a neon arrow.

At the same time, she didn't want to turn up in shapeless sacks that covered her from neck to ankle. That would be like waving a big STOP sign in his face.

She didn't want to send the wrong message; Hermione just wanted to find an outfit that was dressy enough for that upmarket restaurant where they had agreed to meet, that whispered 'sexy sophisticate' rather than crying out 'sour schoolmarm' or 'slutty slapper'.

And, yes, if Hermione was going to continue being perfectly honest (which was much too easy in the privacy of her own mind), she felt a little pathetic for spending this much time worrying over her clothing when he had seen it all before (just the once, though).

She was also very aware that the only reason this date was happening was because he had seen her naked…

She had acknowledged it and moved on because, after she had realised his teasing lacked a malicious edge, he had been fun. Draco made her laugh, when she had stopped squirming in embarrassment, and he continued to make a nuisance of himself until she actually missed his irritating face and bothersome voice. But by that time he hadn't seemed like such an irritating, bothersome nuisance at all.

She had accepted his offer for many reasons, but mostly, because she wanted to say yes.

Draco had asked for one reason.

He had pestered her, kept asking her after the initial refusal, for that one reason only...

Hermione Granger was a clever girl.

She didn't need Rita Skeeter to write it in fifty foot high letters in the Daily Prophet to know that Draco Malfoy hadn't asked her out because he admired her work ethic.

Chapter 2 will be up soon.

I just re-read my A/N at the beginning and realised "Oh no. I used the word 'ironically' in the wrong context. The readers will judge me and my improper word usage. There will be a revolution. They will storm FanFiction moderators and demand my woeful writing - just the Author's Note, mind you, the rest of the story is pretty good - be removed because it offends their intelligence." So I logged in solely to change it. I'm such a nerd.