Your Call Could not be Connected
Hermione Granger had taken to screening her Floo calls.
It was a relatively simple practice: avoid the fireplace at all times.
And, if circumstance demanded that she be in the same room, there was always some large piece of furniture she could hide behind.
Hermione Granger, the big brave Gryffindor who had survived the War, legions of Death Eaters, countless exams and a heavier class schedule than ever thought humanly possible, was reduced to cowering before an inanimate object – one that didn't even have a piece of Voldemort's soul trapped inside.
And it was all Draco bloody Malfoy's fault…
Hermione had once been a morning person. She could wake up with the dawn, bright-eyed and alert. It wasn't altogether clear to her what had happened to change that, just that it had changed. Whether it had been the regular midnight prowling with Harry and Ron, general teenage 'growing up' lethargy or the absence of early morning cartoon shows at Hogwarts, she had left the Wizarding school completely reliant on alarm clocks. Maybe it was just that she never really seemed able to just shut her brain down and go to sleep, even when she was lying in bed at night, eyes heavy and body tired. Perhaps she was just catching up on all that missed sleep many years after the fact. Whatever the reason, these days Hermione had to hit the snooze button at least three times before she woke up feeling groggy and thick, no matter how many hours sleep she had had. There was very little she could do to wake herself up; breakfast didn't work, coffee didn't work, aromatherapy didn't work, potions felt like cheating. Hermione Granger, one of the sharpest minds to attend Hogwarts, was now practically incapable of thought until she stumbled into a very long, very hot shower or 11 am, whichever came first.
On the morning in question, she had just emerged out of one of said showers. It had taken close to half an hour, but Hermione was finally awake enough to face the world on the other side of the shower curtain. Instead of vigorously drying off like she normally would, Hermione stood, stark naked and dripping wet, and looked around her bathroom in a moment of confusion.
There were no towels.
No hand towel, nor even a small face cloth.
Hermione cursed her bad case of morning brain and haphazard cleaning habits. Not for too long though because, although steam still curled around the ceiling, her hair was stuck wetly to the back of her neck and the water droplets beading her body had begun to cool. By the time she poked her head through her living room door to see if the blinds were drawn, Hermione's body was wracked by fine shivers, her skin was coming out in gooseflesh and she was cursing to the fact that her linen cupboard, and the nice fluffy warm towels within, was on the other side of her flat.
Multi-tasking had always made Hermione feel better.
Tiptoeing through the room so as to leave as few wet footprints on the floor as possible, she had almost made it to the other side when her attention was caught by a small noise. It couldn't have been louder than a muffled exclamation or a small cough - but there was no one else in her flat to make even that small noise. That realisation froze Hermione in her tracks.
"Granger?!"
A chill swept over her that had nothing to do with the temperature... Hermione recognised that voice, but she had never thought she would hear it within her own home. She could connect it to a face and a name in her mind, but had no idea where in her home the voice had come from.
"Granger, you're... naked."
And she was naked...
Hermione had been living alone for five years now, but (she blamed the shared dorm rooms at Hogwarts) even in her own home she had never felt comfortable to undress outside of her bathroom or bedroom. What if there was an emergency? She felt it was best to be prepared for almost any eventuality and, for Hermione, preparation usually included clothing. She couldn't even think of a time when she had been naked in her lounge room, kitchen or study before today (there was that one time in the laundry, though). So why, of all days, did she have to forget a towel today?
The better question to ask was probably "Why did Draco Malfoy choose today of all daysto break and enter?"
She cast a wide-eyed glance around the room, completely mindless to the water that dripped from her hair and soaked into the rug. She couldn't see him anywhere, but he could obviously see her; that was dangerous in itself, even without factoring in the other embarrassing issue. Factoring in her nudity, it was even more dangerous - it was very obvious Hermione didn't have her wand with her.
"Where are you and what are you doing here, Malfoy?" Her voice sounded infinitely calmer than she felt.
"I have to admit the being here wasn't entirely intentional… but far be it from me to complain."
It was really quite disconcerting that she didn't know which end to try to cover up, or where she could hide from his gaze. And she was positive that he was looking at her; there was some self-satisfied tone to his voice that told her – from wherever he had hidden himself in the room – he was looking his fill.
"I'm not joking around here," her pretence of calm was beginning to crack. "Where are you? Show yourself!"
"You really don't know? From the look of things I'd say you were rather excited to see me."
"That's just the point! I can't see you - and..." If that was in reference to what she thought it was, it meant he could see her front. "It's cold, you pervert!"
For just a moment, Hermione's indignation had overpowered her embarrassment. A second later, the embarrassment returned with full-force and her hands moved very quickly to cover strategic areas. It was almost a wasted effort, considering how little of her overall body she could actually cover with just her forearms and hands. For the first time, Hermione saw the fatal flaw with minimalist decoration – what she wouldn't give for a big vase to hide behind or a throw rug to wrap herself up in.
The still-hidden voice heaved an affected sigh, "I much preferred it before. You have quite exquisite-"
"YES! Indeed. None of which goes anywhere to answering my question."
"Well, I'm not feeling very cooperative right now," he replied petulantly. "It was rather mean of you to pull the shutters on my lovely view."
"This is an invasion of privacy! I could have the Aurors here in a second. Breaking and entering, trespassing–"
"No," he stated matter-of-factly. "It isn't."
"You're in my house!"
"Not technically."
"Do you want me to call the Aurors and then we can debate points of law with the experts?"
"Well, any extra visitors would probably lead to your getting dressed and I can't say that I would like that..." There was an altogether too smug tone to his voice. "What I would like to know how you propose to contact them, considering you're without a wand and I'm taking up your Floo."
Which pretty much solved her 'where is he?' problem.
She could see his face, lit up in an intense glow, in her fire grate. His smile was too wide to be termed a smirk, his gaze too direct to be a leer but whatever his expression, it wasn't particularly polite.
Luckily enough, the knowledge that he was in the Floo system rather than her living room also answered the 'how much can he see?' question. The answer being, 'not much, if I hide behind the lounge'. Which is what she did.
Only her head, and possibly the top of her shoulder, was visible as she poked her head over the back of the lounge chair.
"You really shouldn't do that, Granger. 'Couch' isn't a good look for you. It only draws attention to your hair – emphasising the bird's nest sitting atop your head."
"Go away!"
"You know, I could share some hair-styling tips with you. But I don't want to shout across the room... come over to the fire and I'll whisper them to you."
"Get OUT!"
"As you wish."
Not that Hermione would ever complain about his absence, but she really had expected Draco Malfoy to put up more of an argument than that. So, it wasn't disappointment she felt when his face started to faded out of the Floo, but relieved surprise. Maybe he had had just run out of sly comments.
She came out from behind the couch slowly, inching around the side before she stood up, almost waiting for a thousand other nasty surprises to rear their heads. When nothing happened for a good few moments, no explosions or attacks by flying monkey, Hermione sank down onto the couch. She was pretty much dry as it was and would warm up in front of the fire in no time at all.
Well, that had been particularly mortifying…
Apparently one unpleasant experience wasn't enough to appease whatever vindictive deity was in charge of shame and embarrassment that morning…
A smiling face popped up in her fireplace again, "Took me ages trying to get it to work a second time round!
Her outraged shriek only partly covered his wolf whistle.
"That's a brilliant shade of red, Granger... I didn't even know you could blush there."
Wrong floo calls were common enough in the Wizarding world… the caller accidentally inhaled Floo Powder and coughed out a mangled name, someone called something out over their shoulder that got picked up by the system, or it was just a particularly busy day and a couple of chimneys got crossed. Most of the time it was a stranger that answered and it was just a case of apologising and placing another call.
Unfortunately for Hermione it was a case of wrong place, wrong time, and wrong choice. And definitely wrong person on that other end…
Couldn't it have been someone who was actually connected to her home floo? Anyone else?
If it had been Ginny or Mrs. Weasley or any of her female friends... Sure, it would have been awkward, but they could have had a laugh about it afterwards. In any case, all women had everything in pretty much the same place, excepting a few scars or the extra curve here and there.
Any of the Gryffindor boys would have been preferable. Harry catching her naked would be still more awkward than any of the girls, and he probably wouldn't be able to look her in the eye without blushing for a good month or so... but they would both survive They had faced bigger obstacles than her bare breasts many times over. Ron would have been no problem at all; he had seen it all before. Seamus Finnigan probably would have come up with some off-colour remark, but she could have just hexed him later. Neville Longbottom would have been more embarrassed than her. The Weasley twins would tease her mercilessly for the rest of her natural life and it would probably give them ideas for a whole new line of jokes for their shop. But it might even be worth it to have the opportunity to surprise them for a change.
Teachers? She would hate for something to change her Professors' opinions of her... but yes, she would have preferred any of them to Malfoy. McGonagall was a woman, after all. Oh, she would have loved to see Trelawney try to pretend she had predicted that. Flitwick was probably too short to see over the fire grate. Dumbledore was dead, but even if he had been alive and firecalled her the worst that could happen would be an extra twinkle in his eye. Everyone knew that Dumbledore didn't swing her way. Alastor Moody was dead too, but Hermione felt she would have gotten off lightly with another lecture on "constant vigilance"...
Hell, even Rita Skeeter would have been better – providing she didn't have her photographer with her at the time.
And just while she was being completely illogical, that creepy man from that construction site who had tried to pick her up last week would have been a more welcome caller (but that had been in Muggle London, so the chances of him successfully operating the Floo system were almost nil).
The point was that it would be awkward and embarrassing whoever was on the other end of the Floo, but that it had to be Draco Malfoy (of all people, Draco Malfoy!) just made it all that more painful.
Because, out of all of them, he alone would be the one who kept calling back.
Just a bit of silliness for 'tis the season. I'm envisaging this as a two shot - nothing big or groundbreaking. Think of it as a Christmas present (and apology) for everyone who waited for goodness knows how long with my other story (and the newcomers too). Speaking of the other story... New chapter up soon! Well, a continuation of the last (hopelessly short) chapter, really. I know I'm bad, but I'm trying to change, ok?
I promise to be good, Santa, PROMISE!