Thank you krazyredhead0317 (aka Krystle) for the beta on this one. Any remaining mistakes are my own. I have to give further props to Kyrstle for helping with the dance scene, without her expertise I think that scene would have fallen short.
To Nocturnalwriter777 (aka Meg) without you inquisitiveness and ideas I would have stayed stuck at page 7 forever. You have been fabulous my dear! This story is dedicated to you!
~~Part 1~~
He never intended to watch her. She was never his type. Always a know-it-all and she was bossy to everyone around her. But something about her intrigued him. Perhaps it was knowing she helped defeat the darkest wizard in generations. Or perhaps it was simply that he'd heard about her since the time he was thirteen years old.
No pureblood was ever supposed to feel anything for a Muggleborn except contempt or revulsion. At least according to his parents, anyway. He'd been taught that Muggleborns stole their magic. Well, if that were true then they shouldn't be able to wield it effectively. Except, she was an exception to that rule too. Every spell she ever did, she did with precision and expertise.
He knew she was a bookworm. There was no denying that. He'd seen her in the Hogwarts library enough times to come to the conclusion that she lived there instead of her tower. During his fourth year, he would watch her study, devouring knowledge like others did Honeydukes' chocolates. She was insatiable in her quest to know everything. His study of her was always covert of course. To do anything else just went against his nature. He wasn't a bleeding heart Hufflepuff after all. At nearly fifteen years old, he'd been infatuated with the enemy. There wasn't anyone he could tell about it either.
After years of watching her, he still wasn't sure what it was that drew him to her. Whatever it happened to be, he really didn't care anymore. He simply knew there was something about her that drew him. He figured it had to be the strength in her. Not just in her magic, but in her character, her loyalty, her devotion to those around her. The one thing he knew beyond anything else was that he respected her. Of course there was more to it than simple respect, but that was the only emotion that he was willing to admit to.
Watching her made him remember a story told to him by his grandmother when he was a small boy about a connection at the elemental level. The story told of a sense of knowing different from second sight that sprung from a witch or wizard's magical core. The story had fascinated him as a boy; he always pictured lighting sparking when the magical cores connected. Now, as a man, he was of the mind that his grandmother's stories were truths to prepare him. He wasn't sure he was ready for what it might mean though, or what exactly he should be prepared for.
He'd spent years waiting to see if the feeling of being drawn to her would pass. Years of watching, listening, hoping that the sense his grandmother spoke so fondly of would pass. But now, six years after the war had ended, he would swear that something about her called to something deep inside him. He felt as though the string was being pulled tight and he needed her to know him. Really know him. But if she knew who he was, there was no guarantee she would give him the chance, so he watched. And waited.
For years he'd gone through life by observing those around him. Making decisions based upon the unspoken. He knew there were many things that a person could discern about others by simple observation. He'd learned much about her by watching while they were in school together, and for the last month, he'd made a point of watching her again. Learning her schedule. Learning her patterns, her behaviour outside of work. One thing that he'd noticed about her was that she smiled less as the weeks passed.
It was time to stop watching and time to start taking action. His wait was over.
~~~HG~~~
The first note he sent was simple, just a single line. A single question, signed with a single initial.
~What's your heart's desire?~
A
The answer he received in reply shocked him to his core.
~To feel…alive!~
H
Two weeks later
Five years, three months, and twenty-two days. That's how long she'd been working for the insipid idiots at the Ministry. Unfortunately, not only is the job mind numbingly dull, but she worked with some of the most narcissistic busybodies in all of Britain.
Hermione lightly banged her forehead down on her desk, lightly tapping the surface over and over again. The action was certain to give her a raging headache. But it's either that or she screams at the idiots surrounding her to shut their damn pie holes! The inane chatter of these empty-headed imbeciles is enough to drive a person as insane as that bitch, Bellatrix. All around Hermione the gossipmongers talk about this case, or that case, or who's screwing who, and the lot of it doesn't matter. None of it matters. The Wizarding World is finally at some semblance of peace, there isn't any big bad to chase after, just petty crooks. Gods, how did I get stuck in such a boring, empty, dead-end job?
Oh yes, Kingsley asked so sweetly. Blast the man, she never could tell him no. He'd begged and pleaded that he needed someone that could read over the Auror's reports and map activity. Look for clusters of dark activity, remnants of Voldemort or the rising of a new dark leader. Crime mapping is one of those things that had been picked up from the Muggle world. In some respects, it pays to have a Minister that isn't stuck on the traditional wizarding ways and is willing to incorporate some Muggle practices as well. In other ways, what they were doing was allowing a damn 'witch hunt'. Pardon the phrase, but in essence, that's what was going on.
Hermione's department of the Ministry essentially tracks activity, but are only able to track what the Aurors show in their reports. So of course, the data is going to be skewed. There are certain Aurors that believe, despite being cleared by the Wizengamot, that certain wizards and witches are still practicing the dark arts for nefarious purposes. Well, duh! Of course some are going to still practice the dark arts. They don't just go away because you killed the darkest wizard out there. As for nefarious purposes, Hermione wasn't so certain about that. But then again, being stuck at a desk so long she could hardly tell what's going on outside the office.
Thinking of her job and the Auror reports that come in day in and day out, it's all she can do not to snort in derision. Half of the morons can't even write legibly. How they ever made it through Hogwarts with marks high enough to get in to be an Auror is beyond fathoming. Staring at a recent report handed to her by Auror Jenkins, she wonders if anyone ever taught the incompetent morons, known as Aurors, what penmanship was.
For more than five years now she'd been stuck at this desk. Four and half of them spent going to Kingsley trying to change jobs. But then what does our dear Minister do, but play the guilt card in order to keep Hermione right where she is. Saying that 'the work you do is paramount to the safety and security of the Wizarding World'. Bull shit! The work of this office only serves to keep persecuting witches and wizards that don't deserve it. Most days, Hermione truly hated her job. Hated that she was stuck at a desk. Hated that she was living a life that she didn't want. This was never her plan.
She had to get out of there. She needed to go somewhere, before she screamed and everyone began staring. Most days she could keep her emotions under control. Most days she didn't feel like killing her coworkers. Today was not most days.
Hermione decided that she had to leave. It was the only way to keep her cool and to save face. She straightened the papers on her desk, not that they really mattered, and headed for the exit. Only one person noticed her hasty retreat from the chaos of the office and followed her out.
Standing out on the balcony overlooking the atrium full of lush green trees, flowers, and a flowing waterfall, Hermione realizes that there has to be more to life than what she has now. Sighing, she braces her arms on the railing and closes her eyes.
"I thought I might find you here."
Keeping her eyes closed, Hermione bows her head and smiles. "You would be the only one to notice I was gone."
"I'm your best friend!"
Hermione laughed loud and long. "Just don't tell the boys. They'd be crushed to know their position has been usurped!"
"Awe, you wound me." Placing her hand over her heart, she faked being hurt. "I haven't told them in four years, what makes you think I'd ruin our secret now?"
"What am I going to do Pans? I can't keep coming here. Can't keep doing this job day in and day out. We aren't accomplishing anything." Hermione turned around and leaned her back against the rail.
Smiling a conspiratorial smile, Pansy leaned against the rail with her best friend. "I think you need a night out with the boys." Hermione crinkled her nose. "No, not those boys. The other boys!"
When Hermione and Pansy first started becoming friends it was the former Slytherin that laid out the truce card, surprising Hermione. It started with lunch and spiraled from there. The two women are seen frequently having lunch in the Ministry Café, in Diagon Alley, or in Muggle London. Pansy made a point to introduce Hermione to the finer points of clothes shopping. To which Hermione would give a speculative look, as she was never one to enjoy shopping. Nevertheless, she ended up taking to shopping with Pansy like a fish to water.
Hermione bumped Pansy with her hip. "I don't know if I could handle the boys right now."
Pansy bumped Hermione back, causing both girls to laugh as Hermione stumbled a step. "You know the boys love you almost as much as they do me. And besides, you need to have a little fun."
Hermione fiddled with the cuff of her sleeves. Pansy tilted her head to the side and gave Hermione a curious look. "Spill!"
"There's nothing to spill." The look Pansy gave her, told Hermione that she wasn't buying it.
"Uh uhn, and I'm Santa Clause."
"I am never letting you watch another movie." Hermione shook her head giggling.
"Awe, come on. I just need to find the jolly old man, push him off a roof, grab his coat, and POOF, I've got the job!" Pansy emphasized the word poof by popping like Genie coming out of the lamp in Aladdin.
Despite her best efforts Hermione broke down into guffaws of laughter once again. Being with Pansy was good for the soul. Though, Hermione doubted she would ever admit that out loud. It would feed her friend's ego far too much.
"Alright Santa, you win." Hermione pulled a parchment from the pocket of her robes, toying with it for a moment before handing it to Pansy.
"What's this?"
"The first."
Opening the small parchment, it was hard not to notice the worn edges of it and the well worn feel of the parchment. Hermione was sure her friend would notice and wonder how many times it had been read. If Hermione was being honest with herself she'd admit that she'd read the note a couple hundred times over the last two weeks. It was a simple note, just four short words. But the feeling that Hermione had just from holding the parchment defied all logic.
That simple sheet of parchment made her feel as though electricity was running through her veins instead of blood. She didn't even know who wrote it. It was only signed with a single initial. But for some reason, that didn't seem to matter. Hermione knew, without knowing how she knew, that the sender cared about her. That was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. Knowing that she was cared about.
She didn't doubt that Ron loved her. She knew he did. But there was something different about the sender of this parchment. Something different about this feeling. This simple note had been the first of many. The sender's owl staying with her until she had a reply ready. Her first reply had taken her nearly two days to craft, and it had been shorter than her mysterious sender's question.
The smile on Pansy's face tells Hermione everything she needs to know. No matter who her mysterious sender is Pansy thinks it's a good idea.
"So, what did you say?"
"You don't want to know who he is?"
"To hell with who he is. I like him already. What did you say?"
"Do you remember the day I was having two weeks ago?"
"Of course I do. You'd had a fight with Kingsley and that idiot redhead of yours." Hermione scowled. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know as well as I do that he's an idiot. Think about it Hermione, he was trying to make you become a housewife. Again!" Pansy crossed her arms across her chest and stared at Hermione in that no-nonsense way of hers.
"I know, I know. It's becoming a common argument between him and I. I've been with him for seven years Pans."
Pansy loosened her stance and embraced her friend. "I know sweetie. But listen, no more talk about him. Let's talk about the new him!" She waggled her eyebrows and gave a smirking grin.
Shaking her head and hugging her friend back, Hermione answered, "I told him I wanted to feel alive."
"Well alright then! I think you definitely need a night out with the boys. And on the way you can tell me if you've gotten any more of these notes."
~~~~PP~~~~
Sitting back in her chair grinning like that cat that ate the canary, Pansy sighed happily. It had been a very productive afternoon. She'd learned that Hermione's mystery man was a world traveler who worked as a freelance translator, curse breaker, and Arithmancer. Pansy was quite pleased with whomever this mystery man was; he was opening Hermione up to so much more than that red headed idiot Hermione had spent years with. Shaking off thoughts of that idiot, Pansy relished as she thought about how the rest of her plan for the day came together.
It took her all of two hours to get the boys to agree to her suggestion. And by suggestion she meant demand. Pansy never took no for an answer, especially where her friends were concerned. The boys would meet them at Chester's at ten sharp.
It made Pansy chuckle every time she thought of the boys, who weren't really boys at all, but men of immense power and a sexy mix of Slytherin. Part of being friends with Pansy meant being friends with Pansy's friends, especially when she wanted to have a good time. The boys were reluctant at first to accept Granger into their midsts, but they soon found she wasn't the stuck up pretentious person they thought her to be. Although, Draco had been the hardest one to convince. Yet, Pansy had a theory on that as well, oh yes, in the realm of Pansy's thinking, the banter and insults between Hermione and Draco was one giant game of foreplay. The rest of the crew – Greg, Blaise, Marcus, and Theo – accepted Hermione like a kid sister, a sexy kid sister that they had to keep all the other boys away from.
"You know I have plenty of 'club' clothes, you make me go shopping every time we go out with the boys."
Pansy sighed, clearly frustrated. "You know that going out always constitutes a new outfit."
"I get many more new outfits and I'm not going to have any closet left."
Pansy gave her friend her doe eyed look saying please in that long drawn out way of hers. Hermione shook her head and smiled. "You know that I can never say no when you do that."
Pansy smiled giddily. "And that's why I do it!" Pansy looped her arm with Hermione's and steered her towards the exit. "I'm thinking short, black, and definitely slinky." Hermione could only laugh as her friend described the clothes they would wear.
"I was thinking more blue than black, and definitely not short, but most certainly slinky."
"Girl, you have to go short, and blue is a Ravenclaw colour, it does not look good with your complexion. Now green, there's a good color for you."
"Am I to be a Slytherin now?"
Pansy laughed. "Every damn day for the last four years."
Shaking her head, Hermione pulled Pansy in to the apparation area and whisked them away to Rosethorne's Boutique.
"Ms. Parkinson, Ms. Granger, how lovely to see you ladies again. Another night out with the boys?"
The girls laughed together, "You know us well Rosethorne."
"Do you have anything black, short, and slinky?"
"For you Ms. Parkinson, I have many things short, black, and slinky." He laughed with a conspiratorial smile. "And for Ms. Granger, what colour are you wishing for this evening?"
Hermione gave a sly smile. "I was thinking something sheer and maybe in a deep green." Pansy smiled approvingly at her choice of colour.
Rosethorne had half a dozen outfits for each of the women in the blink of an eye. For Pansy, he'd certainly found short and slinky, though instead of all black, some of it had a green sheen to it while one was definitely navy blue. Pansy nixed the navy blue immediately on principle. Hermione laughed, her friend certainly had a thing against Ravenclaws!
"Rosethorne?" Hermione called, when she had his attention, she continued, "Can you take the shimmery green of that outfit," Hermione pointed to one on Pansy's rack, "and apply that to this one?" She indicated the outfit in her hand.
"Of course, Ms. Granger!" Rosethorne took the slinky outfit from Hermione and went to his back workroom.
"Tell me more about these letters you've been getting. You've only shown me one, told me of a few others, and I know there have to be more." Pansy called out from across the wall dividing changing stations.
"There isn't much to tell. It's been very platonic."
Pansy scoffed, "Please, there has to be more to it than 'what do you want in life'."
Hermione laughed. "In one he asked where I would live if I could choose anywhere."
"And?"
"And what? What do you say to that? I sent him back a question of my own instead of an answer." Pansy looked at her over the divider, Hermione smirked back. "I didn't ask him anything racy, geeze, I'm not you. And I say that with all the love I have!"
Pansy tapped her foot and cocked her head to the side. Hermione just shook her head. "I asked him for his favorite memory."
"Are you kidding me?! You couldn't think of anything better. Like, what's his favorite position?"
Hermione swatted at her friend with a shocked look upon her face. "PANSY!"
"What? It's what I'd want to know." Pansy came out of the changing stall. "What do you think?"
Hermione admired the outfit Pansy had chosen. The skirt came to just below her buttocks and showed off Pansy's tan, toned legs. The top was strapless and accentuated her ample cleavage. Instead of being black, as Pansy had originally asked for, it was a green so dark that it was almost black.
"It is certainly the epitome of you."
Just then Rosethorne returned with Hermione's outfit. Taking it from him, Hermione shimmied into it. When Hermione stepped out of the changing stall she was wearing a floor length satin emerald green skirt that was slit all the way up to the waistband, a cropped satin top and a mesh cover. Imagining it with smoky make-up, Pansy quickly deemed Hermione club worthy!
Pansy stood up straighter and preened. "Oh, and we're not done with that other conversation."
Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Of course we aren't."
~~~Entrance~~~
Lights shimmered and flashed outside the gleaming three-story building that housed the ever popular Chester's Club. A line of patrons anxiously awaiting entrance was lined up alongside the east wall of the building. Two bouncers were outside the set of double doors, one controlling the crown line and the other letting in the VIP guests.
Pansy and Hermione arrived in true Pansy fashion. The women didn't apparated in. Oh no, they arrived in a carriage fit for a princess right in front of an emerald green carpet that led straight to the door. Photo bulbs popped and flashed around the two young witches as they descended the carriage steps. Pansy was eating up the attention, while Hermione smiled and simply sauntered up to the door trying her damnedest to ignore the cameras. The bouncer wasted no time in admitting the two women, after all they were well known here.
Inside the club were dozens of white and colored lights flashing about the dance floor from the twenty-foot ceiling. The beat of the music went straight to Hermione's hips as she swayed while walking. Pansy hooked her arm in Hermione's and turned her away from the dance floor and up a short set of stairs to a private room where the boys waited.
Entering the room, Hermione took in the site of the boys, who were not boys in the least but well honed men. Blaise sat closest to the door an over tanned bimbo (Hermione was sure) perched on his lap flirting with Draco, who sat next to Blaise. Blaise didn't mind, since the silly man never seemed serious about anyone. Behind Draco, leaning up against the wall was the tall and very well muscled Marcus. He was brooding into his drink while watching the crowd outside their window. Hermione made a mental note to ask him later why he was brooding this time.
Hermione was grabbed in a bear hug from behind and lifted off her feet. She squealed a bit startled by the action but calmed immediately. Feet once more firmly on the floor she turned and hugged Greg then kissed him quickly on the cheek. She never tired of seeing him blush.
The only one they were missing was Theo. Looking around the room, she laughed and all eyes turned towards her. No, they weren't missing Theo at all; he was simply hidden behind Pansy, who happened to be on his lap kissing him most soundly. Pansy quit kissing Theo and turned towards Hermione, her forehead still leaning on Theo's and simply smiled. Pansy was never shy, never would be, and Hermione envied that about her friend.
Oh Hermione wasn't a prude or stuck up or anything of that sort. She simply was reserved. She supposed it was too much time around Harry and Ron and having to temper their emotions that she quickly learned to temper her own and not be overt in them. But here, surrounded by Slytherins she didn't have to be. Her mind momentarily wandered back to one of her mysterious notes, let yourself feel everything. And she wanted to, she truly did. She just didn't know how.
Her contemplation must have shown on her face, because the next thing she knew Draco was there behind her, hands on her hips, lips to her ear. "You're being serious again." His fingers played with the slit in her skirt, softly brushing the exposed skin of her thigh. "Just feel Granger."
Feel. How did one simply feel and not think? She wanted to feel, she wanted fun, she wanted to feel alive.
He must have read her thoughts, or it showed somehow, because his next words mirrored her own thoughts. "I know you want to let go, to be carefree. But you're too stuck on the rules. Sod the bloody rules and listen with your body, your heart. Yes, Granger dear, I do have a heart." She laughed; he knew her well. "Let's go dance."
Closing her eyes, she tried to shut off the voice in her head and simply felt the presence of Draco's body behind her, the slight sway of his hips and she realized that she was swaying with him. Sometimes the body just knows. She chanced a glance at Pansy, who was too busy snogging Theo to pay her any mind. But Blaise saw them and nodded his approval.
She'd come to think of this group of boys as her brothers and her friends. Who'd have ever thought? Hermione laughed again, grabbed a hold of Draco's hand and pulled him out the door.
Out on the dance floor in the crush of bodies all around her, Hermione was finally able to get her brain to shut up. She focused on the beat of the music and the feel of Draco's hands on her hips. She had her back to his front, her arms held up behind her and her fingers curled around Draco's neck. The feel of dancing with him was intoxicating. It made her wish that she could see him in a more romantic sense, but she didn't, there was just something wrong in that thought.
Minutes passed and the tempo increased, Draco leaned into her, his lips at her ear. "I'm getting a drink, care to join me?"
Hermione simply shook her head and pushed further into the throng of people. She could hear Draco laugh behind her. She thought he might have said something like 'good girl', but she wasn't sure.
Songs came and went and still Hermione danced. She'd lost track of the number of times a new person sidled up to her to dance. But none lasted long, only a single song, maybe two. She wondered if her brothers kept glaring or cursing her dance partners away. The song changed to one she recognized, the beat was slow and the bass was thumping, as they seeped into her skin and flowed through her body. The thought about her brothers' protective qualities didn't last long though, when someone knew joined her in a rhythmic swaying of bodies.
This new partner felt like electricity had struck her body. Everything in her stood up straighter and took notice. He was behind her, much like Draco had been. She had her hands above her head and was slowly bringing them down her body. His hands joined hers in their travel. His hands were on top of hers, roaming down her neck, her chest, brushing the sides of her breasts and down her flat stomach. She melded her body to his, his breath on her neck, his hands on her hips; he'd trapped her own hands under his.
The scent of musk and spice mixed together surrounded her. Damn but he smelled good. She wanted to turn around, to see who was dancing with her. But he kept her still, kept her pinned with her back against his chest.
"Do you feel alive?" The words were whispered in her ear and a slip of paper slid into her hand, before the warmth of his body left her. Hermione whirled around, needing to see who had just been there. But by the time she'd turned he's melted into the crowd and she had no idea who he'd been.
Standing stock still in the middle of the crowd she unfolded the paper in her hand.
The way you dance sets the rhythm of my heart.
-A
Hermione turned in frantic circles; the blood pumping in her ears was drowning out the sounds of the music. He'd been here. He'd touched her. He'd felt positively electric!
In the private room up the stairs, Marcus watched out the window. He'd seen Hermione dancing with all sorts of men, even some women. She hadn't been discriminate. When he saw her start to panic, he became concerned.
"Something's wrong with our girl!" He called out over his shoulder as he quickly stalked out the door and down to the dance floor.
Each of the male occupants in the room immediately stopped what they were doing and charged out the door. The woman who'd been in Blaise's lap suddenly found herself dumped on the floor, completely flabbergasted. She pouted a moment waiting for another of the men to turn their attention to her. When they didn't she picked herself up off the floor and stomped out of the room.
Pansy waited in the room, watching the crowd below for any signs of what might have set Hermione off. She knew her friend wouldn't wig out for just anything. Pansy wondered briefly if she'd been threatened, but discarded the thought. Hermione was a competent witch who had held her own against Death Eaters. A rogue on a dance floor wouldn't have her spinning in circles looking panicked.
Pushing their way through the crowd, Blaise, Marcus, Theo, Draco, and Greg all circled around Hermione, menacing looks upon all their faces for those they passed, but grave concern once they reached Hermione.
The paper fluttered out of Hermione's hand and she swooned. Marcus caught her before she was even close to hitting the floor. Cradling her close in his arms, he gave nary a thought to anyone around them. Draco picked up the paper she'd dropped and palmed it; he would read it once they had Hermione back upstairs. The boys cut a path back across the dance floor in front of Marcus carrying Hermione. They were a sight to see, four men walking shoulder to shoulder and one very menacing looking man softly holding the petite witch.
Once back upstairs, Blaise transfigured a chair into a small sofa. Theo grabbed a glass of water. Draco and Greg studied the note that Hermione had dropped. And Marcus studied Hermione for any injuries. Seeing none, he gently caressed her cheek and whispered Rennervate.
Instead of coming awake slowly, Hermione's eyes immediately slammed open and she nearly knocked herself off the transfigured sofa. Marcus pressed a hand to each of her shoulders gently forcing her to lie back down. He wasn't letting her up until he was certain that she was unharmed.
While the boys tended to Hermione and her mild panic attack, Pansy quietly slipped out the door and down to the dance floor. Except she didn't make her way into the crowd, she skirted the edges of it, coming to a small table in the far corner.
Slipping into an unoccupied seat, Pansy wasted no time getting straight to the point. "What did you say to her?"
"I haven't…"
"Stow it, I know you said something, I know you did something, and you'll explain yourself. Now!"
"We danced Pansy, that's all."
"Wrong! Cause if that was all, she wouldn't have wigged out. And you and I both know that." Pansy may know the man that sat across from her, may even trust him with her life. But when it came to her friends she wasn't going to take anyone's shit.
Sighing, the occupant of the other chair shifted in his seat. "I asked her if she felt alive." Pansy laughed. Straight up, unabashedly laughed. Her companion looked startled. "Please tell me you haven't lost it?!"
"Good gods, no." Pansy composed herself. A gleeful, but devious smile upon her lips. It all made sense now, the man sitting across from her, Hermione's panic attack, and the mysterious notes. "Now, Adrian, here's what I want you to do."
Back upstairs, Draco was asking Hermione about the note she'd dropped.
"The last few weeks I've been getting anonymous notes. Innocuous notes really."
"Hermione, you passed out on the dance floor after receiving this one. I hardly think it's innocuous." Draco pressed. "Good gods, Blaise, focus and stop snogging the damn waiter!" Draco turned back to Hermione. "Who's A?
"I've told you that too, I don't know. There are no spells on the parchments, no hexes, charms, nothing. All I know is he, and I'm assuming that aspect, is a curse breaker of sorts, a world traveler, and is enamored with me." Hermione sipped at the water Marcus handed her. "Thank you, Marcus." He nodded and sat down next to her.
"How many of these have you received? Why didn't you tell us?"
"Geeze, Draco, you aren't my mother. You didn't need to know. And as for how many, what does that matter? Just help me figure out who he is!" Marcus placed his arm around Hermione's shoulders and she unconsciously moved into the shelter of his body. Hermione's mind whirled with questions, questions she had no answers to. He had never approached her before, he'd only sent her notes, and always by owl. Why was now different?
Blaise stopped snogging the scrumptious waiter long enough to add his two Knuts to the mix. "Have you tried tracking the owl's trail?" Blaise ran his hands over the bare abs of the waiter, as chiseled muscles rippled underneath his exposed tanned, glistening skin, and kissed him again.
"Blaise focus!" Draco practically yelled.
Blaise huffed and dismissed the waiter. "Fine! Party pooper!" Blaise watched the waiter leave the room, admiring the toned arse encased in black leather pants that left little to the imagination.
Hermione laughed. Gods she needed that! Although she had to agree with Blaise, the man was sex on legs. Two very well defined legs.
Blaise plopped his arse down on the other side of Hermione and added his arm to the mix with Marcus's. Between these two men Hermione felt safe and protected. They'd never let anyone hurt her.
"What would you like us to do, Cara?"
Placing her hand on his thigh, she squeezed ever so slightly. "Track down A, please."
"Your wish, my command!"
~~~time passes on~~~
Two days after the semi disastrous night at Chester's Hermione received another note from her mysterious paramour.
Never meant to hurt you, love. Please forgive me.
She sighed softly; he didn't even sign this one. But she knew it was him. Over the last two days she'd thought about the events that occurred that night frequently. She'd thought about the feel of his hands on hers, his breath on her neck, the electric feel of his body pressed to hers. Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. Oh yes, she most certainly remembered and fondly at that.
She pulled out a parchment scrap at wrote him back.
Nothing to forgive. I have a good memory now.
She sent the note back with his owl. She tried to add a tracking charm as Blaise suggested, but it didn't stick. Apparently he wasn't ready to be discovered yet.
Hours later she received a parcel. She stared at the owl, yes it was certainly his owl, but he'd never sent her a parcel before. With a hint of trepidation she opened it. She blushed and quickly closed it again. Certainly he had not done that?! Stealing herself, she opened the package one more time. Oh yes, he most certainly had done that! Slowly she read the note, once, then twice.
These are special, meant only for you. Wear them and think of me. Be near and be known.
What did he mean be near and be known? And she couldn't wear those! That was not her style. Pansy's most definitely, but not hers. She pulled the scrap of satin out and held it before her. It was a pair of string bikini knickers in deep green. It was the naughtiest and most sensual pair of knickers she'd ever received. Actually it was the only pair of knickers she'd ever received.
Dropping the knickers in back in their package, Hermione rose from her couch and made her way to her fireplace. She gave Pansy's Floo address and in a whirl she was gone.
Landing in Pansy's living room, she stood, hands on hips, scowl on her face. Pansy looked up at Hermione's entrance, a perfectly innocuous look upon her face.
"You know who he is, don't you?"
"He sent them, then?"
"My gods, Pansy, really? You're in on this now? How did you figure out who he is? Why haven't you told me? Why the kickers? No, who is he?"
Pansy laughed and smirked all at the same time. "Which questions would you like answered first?"
"All of them!" Hermione paced the living room.
"I watched the crowd when you wigged out at the club. Figured out who was watching you most intently and went to have a tête-à-tête with him. And no, I'm not telling you who he is, that would ruin the fun! Besides, he's not dangerous, and frankly, you need more fun in your life."
"ARGH!" Hermione sank into the couch, grabbed a pillow, put it over her face and screamed as loud as she could.
"You know I'm going to make you wear them, don't you?!" It was more a statement than a question. Hermione simply looked at her friend. Pansy laughed. "They aren't that bad. Besides, I helped pick them out."
"That's how I knew you were involved. They are something you would wear."
~~End Part 1~~