George left her at her door, promising to meet her outside the venue at eight that evening. Hermione took a long shower, washing the sweat from the day away from her body, and allowed herself a few moments to imagine what her love life would be like in just a few short weeks. She had seen George shirtless when they were in school, and though his overall figure was much the same as she remembered, she couldn't help but blush to herself as she imagined tracing the contours of muscles she suspected lay beneath his tailored suits.
Several long minutes later, Hermione emerged, skin flushed pink from the heat of the spray and her own thoughts. Drying off, she padded naked into her bedroom, where she had placed the box from George on her dressing table. She was stunned silent for a moment, gasping when she finally got the nerve to pull the dress from the box.
It was long, deep black silk covered in hundreds of tiny crystals from the bodice to the hips. The back was low, almost nonexistent, and the bodice would be tight. The silk flowed in delicate folds from the hips, barely supported by a layer of crinoline. In the box beneath the dress lay two black gloves which would go up to and over her elbows.
Hermione sat at her dressing table, just feeling the slight rasp of silk on her skin and the scratch of the crystals. As the fabric spilled out over her lap, Hermione could see the deep crimson embroidery on the bodice – delicate roses studded with the crystals. It was breathtaking.
Two hours later at half seven, Hermione's hair was swept to the side, cascading in soft curls over her shoulder. She was in black lace panties and garter belt, drawing stockings up her legs. They ended high on her thighs, and the sheer black material moulded to her legs perfectly. She had on minimal makeup, just some nude lipstick, grey eyeshadow, and thick black mascara.
It was in the moment Hermione contemplated getting into the dazzling dress that she thanked all the gods that she was a witch. Levitating the dress, Hermione lowered it over her head. A bit of adjusting and a few well-worded sticking spells had Hermione covered in the silk. It hugged her breasts, and the partial boning in the front gave her luxurious cleavage. Forgoing a necklace, Hermione slipped small diamond earrings in, and drew the long gloves up over her arms. She slipped her engagement ring on over the glove, coupled with her mother's diamond bracelet, and Hermione looked up into the mirror for the first time.
A far cry from the bookworm she had been six – hell, even two – years ago, this Hermione Granger seemed an apparition. And as she slipped into her dark crimson pumps, Hermione felt a giddy sense of freedom and self-consciousness. This Hermione never hid beneath lumpy jumpers and long skirts. This Hermione Granger was powerful, the leading researcher in a prominent company. This Hermione looked sexy, seductive, and not a bit out of place in the silk and glitter. And even though this Hermione Granger was to be married soon, against her will, she was still in control of herself. After checking over herself one last time, Hermione looked at the clock. With minutes to spare, She gathered her clutch and wrap, glanced at her hair one last time, and Apparated away to the Ministry Ball.
She landed by the front gates of the Greengrass Estate outside of London. The Greengrasses, a prominent pureblood family, had donated their property for the Christmas gala every year since the early 1900s, and this year was no different. Hermione was alone by the gates for only a minute before someone Apparated behind her. A gasp, and Hermione turned around to see the source. George, resplendent in a black tuxedo complete with a top hat, was rooted to the spot, transfixed by Hermione. Shaking his head, his red curls bouncing, he finally walked up to the witch. Forgoing all niceties, he pulled her hard into his arms and kissed her deeply.
Hermione moaned softly as his lips played against hers, and whimpered when he pulled away.
"You look positively ravishing, Ms. Granger."
"Not so bad there yourself, Mr. Weasley. Shall we?" Hermione took George's proffered arm and he escorted her to a line of carriages just inside the gates. They endured a windy but comfortable ride to the Greengrass manor, and disembarked on a marble path. They were ushered in, their invitations scrutinized, and their coats collected before Hermione and George found themselves in a vast ballroom.
Soft golden light filled the chamber, and hundreds of icicles dazzled on the walls and ceiling. Large evergreens, decorated with all manner of trivialities, thrust outward from every corner. The room was packed, fancy dresses and formal robes popping out from every-which-way and the sound of laughter and the click of high heels echoing around them. Always one for quiet libraries and private functions, Hermione was a bit stunned. George took her gloved hand gently in his, entwining their fingers and kissing her jaw softly, lingeringly. He led the overwhelmed Hermione into the throngs, quickly making the rounds. The Minister, his Cabinet, the Malfoys (poor Draco, how upset he looked, and how his eyes traveled over her silky form!), the Greengrasses themselves, a few Aurors, some proprietors George knew from Diagon Alley, and Harry and Ginny.
As always, Ginny looked fabulous. Her sapphire blue dress complimented her hair fabulously, and the cut was modest enough to maintain formality, but a slit that showed when she moved bordered on scandalous. She was positively glowing, and looked more pulled together and sophisticated than Hermione had ever seen her. Altogether, she and Harry made a lovely, tasteful picture, and Hermione was just happy to see them. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, champagne was distributed, and Ginny and Hermione left the boys to talk Quidditch.
They circled the room, Ginny exclaiming over Hermione's outfit.
"He Flood me, asking for your size, but I had no idea he'd come up with something like this!"
Hermione grinned. "Your brother has already proven he has good taste." She flashed the engagement ring, and the two giggled.
Before long, they were joined by others. Pansy Parkinson offered stiff greetings, and the girls were gossiping about weddings with Susan Bones and her parents when Rita Skeeter blew in out of nowhere, pulling Hermione aside before the latter even realized what happened.
"Ms. Granger, is it true you and Ron Weasley are still involved in an affair, and you set to marry his brother?"
Hermione groaned loudly. "Skeeter, I really don't want to talk to you right now."
"But Ms. Granger, the world is itching to know – why can't you settle for just one Weasley?"
"Rita, I – "
"And is it true you're also involved with Maxwell Pynte, the CEO and founder of Elixers 4 Everyone?"
"What? You're kidding."
"And what about rumors of you – "
"Skeeter!" Hermione cried, finally gaining the witch's attention. "Fine, I'll answer your questions. But if you print anything, and I mean anything, but what I say, there will be hell to pay. Don't forget about my information."
Rita Skeeter sniffed haughtily, but assented.
"Now, what is this nonsense about Ron?" Hermione sighed.
"Rumor has it that you and Ron Weasley are still involved in a deeply intimate," Rita coughed coyly, "relationship, even though the Ministry has paired you with his brother, the infamous and handsome Weasley Wizarding Wheezes owner George Weasley."
"First of all, yes, George and I are set to be married. Yes, we are perfectly happy with the pairing. No, we did not have a prior relationship, we were just family friends. As for Ron, he and I have not been involved with each other for a long time, and there will never be anything more to that relationship. He is to be my brother-in-law, and that is as far as the relationship will extend. I understand that he is rather upset about it, but I am happy to be marrying George, and that is not going to change."
"And what about you and Mr. Pynte?"
"Max? He's my boss. He appointed me to the research project I am currently spearheading for Elixers 4 Everyone. There is nothing but an absolutely professional relationship there, and there never will be. I understand that he has been married for over twenty years, and happily so. I am simply his employee."
"Witch Weekly has photographs of you and Mr. Pynte looking cozy in a coffee shoppe in Diagon Alley just last week."
"And I'm sure your photographers would like to think there is something sinister afoot, but I assure you, our relationship is strictly professional. We often have lunch meetings outside of the office. As you can imagine, a research facility can get a bit overwhelming."
"And the rumors about you leading on Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and current acting Chairman on the board of Malfoy Enterprises?"
"I don't know where you get your information, Skeeter, but there is nothing between Draco and myself. I see him occasionally, as we have mutual acquaintances, and though he did petition for me, there is nothing between he and I."
"Viktor Krum is in town for the World Cup semifinals, are you planning to see him?"
Hermione laughed. "Skeeter, Viktor and I have hardly spoken in years. We had a great friendship for a while, but we have our own lives to live. While it would be great to catch up with him, I'm not having an affair with him, either. And I'm not answering any more questions," Hermione added firmly as Rita's mouth opened once more. "We're through here, go find someone else to bug."
Skeeter's eyes narrowed at the dig, but she flounced off, content with her information for the moment.
Ginny appeared, breathless, moments later, George in tow.
"Is she gone?"
Hermione nodded, and they both heaved a sigh of relief.
"Well, so much for getting a kiss on the front page of tomorrow's Prophet," George teased, pulling Hermione into him. "Come on, sugar. Let's dance."
The two danced several waltzes and a tango before retiring, Hermione wanting to rest her feet. It didn't matter how often or for how long she wore heels, dancing always made her feet ache. George went to fetch some champagne and nibblies, and Hermione perched herself on a tall stool at the cocktail tables. Before long, she was approached by someone she didn't know, a matronly woman of about fifty, her sleek silvery hair pulled back with diamond combs.
"Are you Hermione Granger?"
"I am."
"Ms. Granger, my name is Penelope Plume, and I am the director of Grimbles Resource Allocation. Have you heard of us?" The woman produced a small card and handed it to her.
"I'm afraid I have not, Ms. Plume."
"Please, call me Penelope. Grimbles is a recruitment firm. Some would call us head-hunters. In any case, one of my clients is particularly interested in you."
"In me? May I ask who this client is?"
"I was hesitant to approach you about this project because of your connections with Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, but I am representing Dinmore Limited, the firm behind many of Zonko's products and other novelty items."
"What does Dinmore want with me?"
"To be frank, Ms. Granger, they want you to head their marketing department."
"You're joking?"
"I'm afraid that's Dinmore's prerogative, not mine, Ms. Granger."
"Please, call me Hermione. And I apologize. I just can't see that Dinmore could have sent you to talk with me. It's not exactly a secret that I am intimately connected with all of the Weasleys, including George. How could they think I'd want to work for them, my future husband's competition?"
"I tried to make that point as well, my dear. But, they insisted. I am inviting you to a meeting with them in mid-January. They would really appreciate your communicating with them on the matter. I'm afraid they're not a company that takes 'no' for an answer." Penelope handed Hermione a small card, and then shook her hand.
As the older woman whisked away, Hermione glanced at the information. Tucking the card into her bag, she stood up. She suddenly wanted a drink.
George appeared not ten seconds later, two flutes of champagne in hand and a small plate of finger food balanced on top. Hermione drank the champagne quickly, and then led George out onto the dance floor once again. They danced closely, and Hermione filled him in on the details of her latest encounter. They laughed a bit, but in seriousness, it was agreed that Hermione go to the meeting, if for no other reason than to refuse in person.
They danced until the clock chimed midnight, and then set about getting their things together. Hermione's feet were killing her, and all she wanted to do was prop herself up with a good book. Dozens of farewells were fielded, and then Hermione and George left.
As the two were headed to the Apparition point, conversation was warm.
"I had a wonderful time tonight, Mione."
"Me too, George. It was much better than I thought it would be, even with all the unwelcome interruptions."
"Would you like to come over for a nightcap?"
Hermione was silent for a moment, a thousand scenarios running through her head, and then answered in the affirmative. George whisked them away to his property in Diagon Alley.
They appeared outside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and George led her around back and up a beautiful wrought-iron spiral staircase. They emerged on a small patio, where the back door to George's flat was tightly locked. George fumbled with keys and then led Hermione into the kitchen.