I could not say with accuracy why exactly I went to Grimmauld Place to begin with. It was possible that I had left a handkerchief in an upstairs bedroom or in another scenario Lord Voldemort had decided to rear his nose-less, scaly face for a third time. It was probably closer to Molly Weasley's Sheperd's Pie that brought me that evening.
It was late, as to not attract attention to myself, and I apparated softly into the back garden. I came to the door and was just about to open it when two figures stumbled up from the basement stairs. The glass in the door fogged from the condensation of my breath but I could still make out who the figures were. Two very distinct silhouettes, one belonging to the tall and muscular Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other to the small, curved body of Hermione Granger. The silhouettes of her breasts stand out clearly in my mind now, but I can't imagine why.
They, the breasts that is, were of no great remark. They were not large and they were not small. The nipples were not brown and not pink. On a whole, they were decidedly average.
I felt rooted to the spot, my nose almost brushing the door and my fingers hovering above the knob. They were engaged in rather an adult situation. Hermione tipped her head back and laughed at something that Kingsley said and I watched transfixed as her hair dipped ever lower with her back bending until it grazed along the table she was sitting on. It seemed of little import that her blouse had vacated her body or that our Minister of Magic's lips were kissing her sternum. She shot back a retort and her hair snapped back up to her middle back as Kingsley laughed a slow, baritone chuckle.
The shade of her chestnut hair was unremarkable, quite like the rest of her. She was simply average in almost every physical capacity. I was busy dissecting the ankles and thighs that were bared when I realized that she was startlingly not average in a few physical ways. She was obviously flexible beyond belief as her left ankle was residing neatly behind her ear.
Oh, and there was Kingsley, he obviously knew what he was doing.
Hermione Granger opened her eyes after quite a while of his ministrations looking quite languid and satisfied. I stood my ground as she turned her head to the side and peered right at the door and me. Her face was one of pure astonishment and dare I mention it- intrigue?
I had just witnessed an entirely private moment and she looks at me with intrigue?
My, my…