A SUMMER PLACE
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.10: A Different Side of Hermione
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
Harry spent much of the 29th wandering around Brixton, following up on some of the points in Zafar's letter. He was tempted to start purchasing things for the 31st, but then he realized that this would all be part of the day spent with Cho.
He had another appointment to keep on the 30th, and after breakfast that day he stepped out onto Diagon Alley. The street had started filling early with last-minute shoppers preparing to go to Hogwarts in two days time. He hung around Gringotts Bank for a while, until the stares of the goblins who worked there became a little too intense. He moved on down Diagon Alley, looking in one shop or another, but seeing only a few people he knew from school. Neville Longbottom was in Madam Malkin's getting fitted for new robes—it seemed to Harry that his entire year had changed this summer, as if they were all werewolves under a full moon. Neville saw Harry reflected in the store mirror, waved to him, and upset the stool he was standing on. Colin Creevey still had his camera out, taking pictures of everything he saw; Harry avoided Colin only because he'd been photographed enough to last a lifetime.
Harry looked wistfully down Diagon Alley and, for the first time he could recall, saw—actually saw—the Chang apothecary shoppe. They must have lifted the Confundus Charm that stopped Harry finding it—almost stopped him, anyway. Granny Li was sweeping the sidewalk; if she saw him, she gave no sign. Harry didn't try to get her attention, either; she had warned him that he had to "be good boy" for another year, while Cho was still in school. After that … he didn't want to jeopardize anything after that, so he held his tongue.
"OY HARRY!"
Ron had just stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron; he must have gone there by Floo powder again. They fought the rushing crowds to get to each other.
"Seen her yet?" Ron asked.
"No; maybe it's too soon."
Ron pointed across the road, at Florian Fortescue's ice cream parlour. "Well, while we're waiting, I wouldn't say no…"
Harry got the message, and didn't begrudge Ron in the least. Their friendship had gotten to the point where even gold Galleons didn't tip the scales one way or another. Harry was happy to share whatever he had with Ron, secure in knowing that Ron would do the same—if, that is, the Weasleys ever had anything extra to share.
They had just started in on their ice cream (raspberry sundae for Ron, banana split for Harry) when they heard her—
"HARRY! RON!"
If they hadn't heard Hermione Granger's voice a few seconds before she showed up at their table, they wouldn't have recognized her. As it is, once she put down the three carrier bags full of books, they kept staring at her.
"Do I look bad?" Hermione asked, reaching for her hair, worry in her voice.
"Not at all," Harry quickly replied. Hermione, to the contrary, never looked--prettier. It actually seemed odd to Harry to describe someone he thought of as a friend as "pretty", but it applied in Hermione's case. Her skin was a rich and even tan, and her hair, though still thick and a bit coarse, seemed to have lightened a shade or two.
She sat at the table while Harry ordered her a dish of peanut butter and caramel ice cream. Ron didn't comment on her looks, but on her books.
"How can you do this every year?" he asked. "You take more courses than a sane witch ever would."
"Meaning I'm insane?" Hermione was smiling as she said it; she and Ron had had words before, but they were often simple misunderstandings. The three of them had been fast friends since their first day on the Hogwarts Express—and now they were about to begin their sixth year.
"I do have to set a good example now, you know" Hermione went on, as she adjusted a fold in her robe that briefly covered her Prefect badge.
"For weightlifters, maybe," Ron smirked.
"Really, why so many this time?" Harry asked.
"Well, this is when it all gets serious, isn't it? We have our OWLs this year and our NEWTs the next. I have to give some thought as to what comes after Hogwarts."
"And what did you decide?"
"Well," Hermione said—and Ron simply rolled his eyes and kept eating. He knew Hermione was about to launch into a lengthy explanation. "Before I got my first Hogwarts letter, I really wanted to follow my parents' lead and go into some form of medicine. But that always seems to take so long and, while I wouldn't mind a few more years of school, I really feel the need to be useful to somebody sooner than that. Anyway, I haven't ruled healing out entirely yet; I'd like to have a few words with Madam Pomfrey before I decide one way or the other, but for now I've decided to take the Auror courses."
"Auror?" Harry asked with surprise. It seemed too active a career for someone as bookish as Hermione. "What made you choose that?"
"It was what Professor Moody said. One time he said I'd be a natural at it."
"Excuse me, miss," Ron interrupted, "but we found this brain on the beach and thought you might have left it there by mistake."
"And what's THAT supposed to mean?"
"Our Dark Arts teacher, Mad-Eye Moody, was a fake. He was a Death-Eater! Remember?"
"Yes," Hermione smiled, "but he was a Death Eater disguised as Professor Moody. Which meant that he had to avoid suspicion of being an impostor by only saying what the REAL Professor Moody would say. Ergo, the real Professor Moody would have said I was a natural Auror." She sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Ron was about to answer back when Harry held up his hand. "Don't bother; she's got you."
Ron turned back to Hermione. If he thought she looked nice, he gave no sign except to ask: "Summer seems to have agreed with you. What did you do, then?"
"Just … what we usually do," Hermione answered.
"And that is…"
"What my family does in the summertime. We just did more of it this year."
"Did what? Why all the mystery?" Ron tried again.
"Well, it's rather awkward to just blurt it out, sitting here in front of an ice cream parlour. But it's something my parents started doing when I was little, and I just grew up with it. Not many witches or Muggles go in for this, though."
"In for WHAT??"
Hermione took a deep breath. "My parents are naturists."
"Oh," Harry nodded. "That's like a Save-the-Trees kind of thing, isn't it?"
"Wrong," Ron scowled at him. "They're those nutters who run around stark naked all day long."
"My parents are not nutters!" Hermione practically pounded the table.
Ron went on as if she hadn't spoken. "They've got their own beaches, and little communities, and none of them wears a single stitch of clothes!"
"Pull the other one; it's got an argyle sock," Harry said, turning back to his banana split.
"HARRY!"
"I've heard rumours about these Muggle lunatics..." Ron interrupted.
"RON!!"
"But what's the point in running around with nothing on? It would be a nightmare, wouldn't it?" Harry asked Ron, as if Hermione--whose face was getting more and more purple by the second--wasn't even there.
"Well, don't ask her," Ron pointed vaguely toward Hermione. "If there was anything to it, she wouldn't be wearing those robes."
This time Hermione did pound the table as she leapt to her feet. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM COMPLETELY NAKED UNDER THESE ROBES!!!"
A dreadful silence fell on that corner of Diagon Alley. Shoppers stopped in their tracks, trying to place the source of those words. Hermione hurriedly sat down, put her head on the table and covered it with her arms, as if to protect it from pieces of falling sky, making a little noise that sounded like "eep".
After about a minute, Ron cheerily turned to Hermione again: "So, old girl, you were telling us about your hols."
Hermione kept her head buried under her arms. "First I am going to kill you, Ronald Weasley, and then I am going to die."
"Come on, Hermione, a joke's a joke..."
"No joke, Harry. We went to Spain and Greece, all right, but we stayed at nudist resorts and went to what they call "clothing optional" beaches."
"But...but...hundreds of total strangers would get to see your..."
"On the other hand, I got to see hundreds of total strangers."
The blush on Harry's cheeks was almost as red as his scar. The very idea of a beach full of naked bathers had him more aroused than he could ever remember being, and he couldn't help thinking that those bathers would be just as aroused as he was. "So, what did you ... do?"
Hermione shrugged. "It was a beach. We did what families do on a beach: got some sun, went in for a paddle now and then. I got a lot of reading done."
"That's a big surprise," Ron said dryly.
"And there were hikes and sometimes a dance in the evening..."
"But you could have stayed home for that," Harry tried again. "You didn't have to take off all your..." Harry couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Trust me, Harry, once you get into the middle of it, it's just not that important. It's like being at Hogwarts, or here in Diagon Alley. We're all wearing robes and pointed hats, so nobody really notices after a while. If we went to Harrod's or the Royal Albert Hall dressed like this, of course people would stare."
"Yeah, I suppose, but what about, well, I mean don't people--and I don't mean you, of course," Harry hastily added, afraid of offending Hermione-- "but don't people get all ... I mean..."
"Are you going on about sex?" The bluntness of the sentence hit both boys. Hermione, meanwhile, was back into her old attitude of lecturing the class. "Well, the fact is that it doesn't happen among naturists any more or less than any other group. People don't automatically get aroused just because their clothes are off."
Harry still found this last statement hard to believe, but Ron interrupted him before he could speak. "I'll bet Vicky would."
"That's VIKTOR! And…he didn't."
"Didn't what?" Ron asked.
"Don't be so thick, Ron. Don't you think there are naturists in Bulgaria?"
"You mean–last summer–when you went–and YOU AND HE…" Harry was a bit worried. Ron looked as if he'd either inflate or explode.
"Yes, Ron," Hermione sighed, sounding like a parent trying to explain something for the tenth time to a small child, "Viktor Krum and his parents met me and my parents on a beach, and we were both naked." Hermione seemed to get a bit sadder. "That's about all we had in common, as it turned out."
"So you two didn't hit it off?" Ron had calmed down now and seemed almost … hopeful.
"We didn't get much past 'hello'. He wanted to talk about the Tournament and Cedric and Quidditch. And we seemed to be getting on so well during the Tournament. All the time we were talking last summer, though, his mind seemed to want to be somewhere else."
Ron had the strangest look on his face Harry had ever seen; as if he was thinking about something that once was bizarre, but suddenly made sense. In an instant, though, his face switched back to the old familiar Ron. "Nice try, Hermione, but I still think you're having us on."
"You expect me to prove it?"
"Why not, since you've got the chance?"
Hermione paused. Then she slapped her hand down on the table. "Right, then. Finish up."
xxx
Five minutes later, the three were in Harry's room at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron sat on one side of the bed while Harry draped a bathroom towel over the mirror.
"What's this all about, dearie?" the mirror asked.
"This'll just take a minute, and I'd rather the landlord didn't find out."
"Suit yourselves, then." the mirror yawned. "You ought to know the rules by now."
"Okay, let me get this straight," Ron was saying. "You go off to these camps and beaches and things where nobody wears anything anyway. So what are you doing walking around Diagon Alley wearing nothing but your robes?"
"I know this is going to sound silly..."
"Never!"
"Ron! As I was saying, I've spent most of the summer wearing nothing, or close to it. We go back to Hogwarts day after tomorrow, and I guess I just wanted one more day without having to worry about clothes. I just didn't want the summer to end this time."
"Why not? Did something special happen?" Harry asked.
"Who cares!" Ron interrupted. "Here's the bet, then. If Harry or I see anything like a tan line, we'll know you've been stringing us along."
"And if you don't?" Hermione asked.
"Some sort of homework torture you'll devise after we're back in Hogwarts."
Harry sat next to Ron. Hermione stood just a few feet from them, with her back to them. She undid the clasp of her robe and let it fall off of her shoulders.
Until that moment, Harry hadn't realized how erotic shoulders could be. Hermione's were perfectly sculpted; in his mind, they were the shoulders of an athlete. She must have been a serious swimmer who went into the water for more than "just a paddle". She looked back over her shoulder at the boys, smiled, then turned her head and loosened her robes some more.
The back beneath her shoulders was just as perfect. Its curves and contours spoke to Harry of an active, un-bookish summer, while the darker- than-usual skin was iridescent, soft-looking and feminine. Harry didn't dare look to see if Ron was as excited as he was.
But Ron called out: "I don't believe you, Hermione Granger! You're enjoying this! You're just a teaser!"
"I hardly think so," she smiled back over her shoulder at Ron. "But how many chances do I get to prove that I'm right and you're not?"
"You want that list alphabetical or starting with the most recent?"
"Ha ha very funny. Are you ready to admit I was right?"
"Not at all. I've seen pictures of swimsuits that would let you get that kind of tan."
"Well, if you think I'm turning around..."
"No need. Just show us your bum."
Hermione seemed a bit vexed. She had hoped to get Ron to admit defeat before things had gone this far. She now found that she could no longer let her robes down in the back and still hold them over her breasts in the front. She turned back around, took a breath and let her robes slip down further, front and back.
Harry and Ron couldn't see her breasts from where they were sitting, but, if they leaned, they could make out the swell of them on the sides as they appeared. They too were--Harry couldn't use any other word--perfect, as far as he could see. Not too big, not too small, no sag at all. Perfect as a statue in a museum.
Which also included the cleft that started at the small of Hermione's back, and then grew to divide the two perfectly matched halves of her bottom. The robe stopped just short of revealing what lay beyond the cleft.
More important, they could see that every inch of skin was the same color; no lighter patches, no tan lines. Hermione had been telling the truth.
After about half a minute, Hermione pulled her robes back up, fastening the clasp before turning back to the boys.
"Well, does that settle the matter?"
Harry wasn't aware she had spoken or even moved. He was still lost in contemplation of the physical charms of Hermione Granger, the first girl ever to willingly reveal so much skin to him.
Ron was more alert; "Okay, you win. What sort of torture were you planning?"
"Actually, you don't have to do anything, except one thing. You cannot ever tell a single person what just happened here. Fair enough?"
"I suppose. By the way, what DID just happen here?"
"Well, I would have though it was pretty obvious."
"True," Ron smirked, "you didn't have much to hide." Harry was still lost in his own thoughts; Ron shoved him. "Wake up; gotta take a quiz now."
"You mean, was there anything else beside my proving a point? You don't seriously think that--"
Harry was wiping off his glasses, which had become fogged up. "You've got to admit, not everyone gets a display like that in their lifetime."
"Well, I was absolutely NOT trying to lead you on! The very idea-- I mean, you're the oldest friends I have at Hogwarts!"
"Try that again and you'll make a whole lot of new ones," Ron interrupted.
"STOP THAT! This was just to prove that my family really are naturists. THAT'S why I don't want you to talk about this; people will be dying to read other things into it."
Harry held up his hands. "Relax, Hermione, your secret's safe with us."
"The last thing I need is smutty gossip behind my back."
"So to speak."
Something about Ron's quip struck Harry as insanely funny; he started laughing, and found it hard to stop.
"Of course, if they did say something about it," Ron went on, "you could always turn the other cheek."
This struck Harry as even funnier. He rolled on the bed, laughing longer and louder, even though tears were in his eyes and he was finding it hard to breathe.
"I swear to you, Ron Weasley, that I have absolutely no intention of becoming the butt of…"
Ron didn't have to say anything; he just cocked one eyebrow at Hermione. That was all it took; she started laughing, and not one of her usual fits of the giggles. This was deep, loud, from-the-lungs-and-from-the-heart laughter. Ron started laughing along with her. Harry laughed so hard he rolled off the bed and onto the floor.
After a minute or two, all three were on the floor, gradually coming back to themselves.
"It's a shame this has to be our secret," Ron finally said. "Nobody would ever believe you were capable of that, especially being Prefect and all."
Hermione seemed to come suddenly awake. "Oh my; my parents! I was supposed to meet them!" She gathered up all her books and started for the door.
"Hermione, wait!" Ron shouted. "Can't you spend one night in the Burrow? Ginny would really like to talk to you."
"Sorry, Ron; really have to do this. See you on the train!" And she was gone.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked.
"Dunno. You think maybe she has a boyfriend?"
"You're the one with the girlfriend; you tell me."
Harry had to think a minute. "Nah, doesn't seem likely."
"Well, I'd better get back," Ron said. "See you at King's Cross."
"Say 'hi' to your family for me."
Ron stopped at the door; "Why don't YOU come back to the Burrow, then?"
"Sorry, Ron, but Cho's coming tomorrow."
"Say no more," Ron sighed as he left Harry alone in the room.
…to be continued…
by monkeymouse
a/k/a Patrick Drazen
2.10: A Different Side of Hermione
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]
Harry spent much of the 29th wandering around Brixton, following up on some of the points in Zafar's letter. He was tempted to start purchasing things for the 31st, but then he realized that this would all be part of the day spent with Cho.
He had another appointment to keep on the 30th, and after breakfast that day he stepped out onto Diagon Alley. The street had started filling early with last-minute shoppers preparing to go to Hogwarts in two days time. He hung around Gringotts Bank for a while, until the stares of the goblins who worked there became a little too intense. He moved on down Diagon Alley, looking in one shop or another, but seeing only a few people he knew from school. Neville Longbottom was in Madam Malkin's getting fitted for new robes—it seemed to Harry that his entire year had changed this summer, as if they were all werewolves under a full moon. Neville saw Harry reflected in the store mirror, waved to him, and upset the stool he was standing on. Colin Creevey still had his camera out, taking pictures of everything he saw; Harry avoided Colin only because he'd been photographed enough to last a lifetime.
Harry looked wistfully down Diagon Alley and, for the first time he could recall, saw—actually saw—the Chang apothecary shoppe. They must have lifted the Confundus Charm that stopped Harry finding it—almost stopped him, anyway. Granny Li was sweeping the sidewalk; if she saw him, she gave no sign. Harry didn't try to get her attention, either; she had warned him that he had to "be good boy" for another year, while Cho was still in school. After that … he didn't want to jeopardize anything after that, so he held his tongue.
"OY HARRY!"
Ron had just stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron; he must have gone there by Floo powder again. They fought the rushing crowds to get to each other.
"Seen her yet?" Ron asked.
"No; maybe it's too soon."
Ron pointed across the road, at Florian Fortescue's ice cream parlour. "Well, while we're waiting, I wouldn't say no…"
Harry got the message, and didn't begrudge Ron in the least. Their friendship had gotten to the point where even gold Galleons didn't tip the scales one way or another. Harry was happy to share whatever he had with Ron, secure in knowing that Ron would do the same—if, that is, the Weasleys ever had anything extra to share.
They had just started in on their ice cream (raspberry sundae for Ron, banana split for Harry) when they heard her—
"HARRY! RON!"
If they hadn't heard Hermione Granger's voice a few seconds before she showed up at their table, they wouldn't have recognized her. As it is, once she put down the three carrier bags full of books, they kept staring at her.
"Do I look bad?" Hermione asked, reaching for her hair, worry in her voice.
"Not at all," Harry quickly replied. Hermione, to the contrary, never looked--prettier. It actually seemed odd to Harry to describe someone he thought of as a friend as "pretty", but it applied in Hermione's case. Her skin was a rich and even tan, and her hair, though still thick and a bit coarse, seemed to have lightened a shade or two.
She sat at the table while Harry ordered her a dish of peanut butter and caramel ice cream. Ron didn't comment on her looks, but on her books.
"How can you do this every year?" he asked. "You take more courses than a sane witch ever would."
"Meaning I'm insane?" Hermione was smiling as she said it; she and Ron had had words before, but they were often simple misunderstandings. The three of them had been fast friends since their first day on the Hogwarts Express—and now they were about to begin their sixth year.
"I do have to set a good example now, you know" Hermione went on, as she adjusted a fold in her robe that briefly covered her Prefect badge.
"For weightlifters, maybe," Ron smirked.
"Really, why so many this time?" Harry asked.
"Well, this is when it all gets serious, isn't it? We have our OWLs this year and our NEWTs the next. I have to give some thought as to what comes after Hogwarts."
"And what did you decide?"
"Well," Hermione said—and Ron simply rolled his eyes and kept eating. He knew Hermione was about to launch into a lengthy explanation. "Before I got my first Hogwarts letter, I really wanted to follow my parents' lead and go into some form of medicine. But that always seems to take so long and, while I wouldn't mind a few more years of school, I really feel the need to be useful to somebody sooner than that. Anyway, I haven't ruled healing out entirely yet; I'd like to have a few words with Madam Pomfrey before I decide one way or the other, but for now I've decided to take the Auror courses."
"Auror?" Harry asked with surprise. It seemed too active a career for someone as bookish as Hermione. "What made you choose that?"
"It was what Professor Moody said. One time he said I'd be a natural at it."
"Excuse me, miss," Ron interrupted, "but we found this brain on the beach and thought you might have left it there by mistake."
"And what's THAT supposed to mean?"
"Our Dark Arts teacher, Mad-Eye Moody, was a fake. He was a Death-Eater! Remember?"
"Yes," Hermione smiled, "but he was a Death Eater disguised as Professor Moody. Which meant that he had to avoid suspicion of being an impostor by only saying what the REAL Professor Moody would say. Ergo, the real Professor Moody would have said I was a natural Auror." She sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Ron was about to answer back when Harry held up his hand. "Don't bother; she's got you."
Ron turned back to Hermione. If he thought she looked nice, he gave no sign except to ask: "Summer seems to have agreed with you. What did you do, then?"
"Just … what we usually do," Hermione answered.
"And that is…"
"What my family does in the summertime. We just did more of it this year."
"Did what? Why all the mystery?" Ron tried again.
"Well, it's rather awkward to just blurt it out, sitting here in front of an ice cream parlour. But it's something my parents started doing when I was little, and I just grew up with it. Not many witches or Muggles go in for this, though."
"In for WHAT??"
Hermione took a deep breath. "My parents are naturists."
"Oh," Harry nodded. "That's like a Save-the-Trees kind of thing, isn't it?"
"Wrong," Ron scowled at him. "They're those nutters who run around stark naked all day long."
"My parents are not nutters!" Hermione practically pounded the table.
Ron went on as if she hadn't spoken. "They've got their own beaches, and little communities, and none of them wears a single stitch of clothes!"
"Pull the other one; it's got an argyle sock," Harry said, turning back to his banana split.
"HARRY!"
"I've heard rumours about these Muggle lunatics..." Ron interrupted.
"RON!!"
"But what's the point in running around with nothing on? It would be a nightmare, wouldn't it?" Harry asked Ron, as if Hermione--whose face was getting more and more purple by the second--wasn't even there.
"Well, don't ask her," Ron pointed vaguely toward Hermione. "If there was anything to it, she wouldn't be wearing those robes."
This time Hermione did pound the table as she leapt to her feet. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM COMPLETELY NAKED UNDER THESE ROBES!!!"
A dreadful silence fell on that corner of Diagon Alley. Shoppers stopped in their tracks, trying to place the source of those words. Hermione hurriedly sat down, put her head on the table and covered it with her arms, as if to protect it from pieces of falling sky, making a little noise that sounded like "eep".
After about a minute, Ron cheerily turned to Hermione again: "So, old girl, you were telling us about your hols."
Hermione kept her head buried under her arms. "First I am going to kill you, Ronald Weasley, and then I am going to die."
"Come on, Hermione, a joke's a joke..."
"No joke, Harry. We went to Spain and Greece, all right, but we stayed at nudist resorts and went to what they call "clothing optional" beaches."
"But...but...hundreds of total strangers would get to see your..."
"On the other hand, I got to see hundreds of total strangers."
The blush on Harry's cheeks was almost as red as his scar. The very idea of a beach full of naked bathers had him more aroused than he could ever remember being, and he couldn't help thinking that those bathers would be just as aroused as he was. "So, what did you ... do?"
Hermione shrugged. "It was a beach. We did what families do on a beach: got some sun, went in for a paddle now and then. I got a lot of reading done."
"That's a big surprise," Ron said dryly.
"And there were hikes and sometimes a dance in the evening..."
"But you could have stayed home for that," Harry tried again. "You didn't have to take off all your..." Harry couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Trust me, Harry, once you get into the middle of it, it's just not that important. It's like being at Hogwarts, or here in Diagon Alley. We're all wearing robes and pointed hats, so nobody really notices after a while. If we went to Harrod's or the Royal Albert Hall dressed like this, of course people would stare."
"Yeah, I suppose, but what about, well, I mean don't people--and I don't mean you, of course," Harry hastily added, afraid of offending Hermione-- "but don't people get all ... I mean..."
"Are you going on about sex?" The bluntness of the sentence hit both boys. Hermione, meanwhile, was back into her old attitude of lecturing the class. "Well, the fact is that it doesn't happen among naturists any more or less than any other group. People don't automatically get aroused just because their clothes are off."
Harry still found this last statement hard to believe, but Ron interrupted him before he could speak. "I'll bet Vicky would."
"That's VIKTOR! And…he didn't."
"Didn't what?" Ron asked.
"Don't be so thick, Ron. Don't you think there are naturists in Bulgaria?"
"You mean–last summer–when you went–and YOU AND HE…" Harry was a bit worried. Ron looked as if he'd either inflate or explode.
"Yes, Ron," Hermione sighed, sounding like a parent trying to explain something for the tenth time to a small child, "Viktor Krum and his parents met me and my parents on a beach, and we were both naked." Hermione seemed to get a bit sadder. "That's about all we had in common, as it turned out."
"So you two didn't hit it off?" Ron had calmed down now and seemed almost … hopeful.
"We didn't get much past 'hello'. He wanted to talk about the Tournament and Cedric and Quidditch. And we seemed to be getting on so well during the Tournament. All the time we were talking last summer, though, his mind seemed to want to be somewhere else."
Ron had the strangest look on his face Harry had ever seen; as if he was thinking about something that once was bizarre, but suddenly made sense. In an instant, though, his face switched back to the old familiar Ron. "Nice try, Hermione, but I still think you're having us on."
"You expect me to prove it?"
"Why not, since you've got the chance?"
Hermione paused. Then she slapped her hand down on the table. "Right, then. Finish up."
xxx
Five minutes later, the three were in Harry's room at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron sat on one side of the bed while Harry draped a bathroom towel over the mirror.
"What's this all about, dearie?" the mirror asked.
"This'll just take a minute, and I'd rather the landlord didn't find out."
"Suit yourselves, then." the mirror yawned. "You ought to know the rules by now."
"Okay, let me get this straight," Ron was saying. "You go off to these camps and beaches and things where nobody wears anything anyway. So what are you doing walking around Diagon Alley wearing nothing but your robes?"
"I know this is going to sound silly..."
"Never!"
"Ron! As I was saying, I've spent most of the summer wearing nothing, or close to it. We go back to Hogwarts day after tomorrow, and I guess I just wanted one more day without having to worry about clothes. I just didn't want the summer to end this time."
"Why not? Did something special happen?" Harry asked.
"Who cares!" Ron interrupted. "Here's the bet, then. If Harry or I see anything like a tan line, we'll know you've been stringing us along."
"And if you don't?" Hermione asked.
"Some sort of homework torture you'll devise after we're back in Hogwarts."
Harry sat next to Ron. Hermione stood just a few feet from them, with her back to them. She undid the clasp of her robe and let it fall off of her shoulders.
Until that moment, Harry hadn't realized how erotic shoulders could be. Hermione's were perfectly sculpted; in his mind, they were the shoulders of an athlete. She must have been a serious swimmer who went into the water for more than "just a paddle". She looked back over her shoulder at the boys, smiled, then turned her head and loosened her robes some more.
The back beneath her shoulders was just as perfect. Its curves and contours spoke to Harry of an active, un-bookish summer, while the darker- than-usual skin was iridescent, soft-looking and feminine. Harry didn't dare look to see if Ron was as excited as he was.
But Ron called out: "I don't believe you, Hermione Granger! You're enjoying this! You're just a teaser!"
"I hardly think so," she smiled back over her shoulder at Ron. "But how many chances do I get to prove that I'm right and you're not?"
"You want that list alphabetical or starting with the most recent?"
"Ha ha very funny. Are you ready to admit I was right?"
"Not at all. I've seen pictures of swimsuits that would let you get that kind of tan."
"Well, if you think I'm turning around..."
"No need. Just show us your bum."
Hermione seemed a bit vexed. She had hoped to get Ron to admit defeat before things had gone this far. She now found that she could no longer let her robes down in the back and still hold them over her breasts in the front. She turned back around, took a breath and let her robes slip down further, front and back.
Harry and Ron couldn't see her breasts from where they were sitting, but, if they leaned, they could make out the swell of them on the sides as they appeared. They too were--Harry couldn't use any other word--perfect, as far as he could see. Not too big, not too small, no sag at all. Perfect as a statue in a museum.
Which also included the cleft that started at the small of Hermione's back, and then grew to divide the two perfectly matched halves of her bottom. The robe stopped just short of revealing what lay beyond the cleft.
More important, they could see that every inch of skin was the same color; no lighter patches, no tan lines. Hermione had been telling the truth.
After about half a minute, Hermione pulled her robes back up, fastening the clasp before turning back to the boys.
"Well, does that settle the matter?"
Harry wasn't aware she had spoken or even moved. He was still lost in contemplation of the physical charms of Hermione Granger, the first girl ever to willingly reveal so much skin to him.
Ron was more alert; "Okay, you win. What sort of torture were you planning?"
"Actually, you don't have to do anything, except one thing. You cannot ever tell a single person what just happened here. Fair enough?"
"I suppose. By the way, what DID just happen here?"
"Well, I would have though it was pretty obvious."
"True," Ron smirked, "you didn't have much to hide." Harry was still lost in his own thoughts; Ron shoved him. "Wake up; gotta take a quiz now."
"You mean, was there anything else beside my proving a point? You don't seriously think that--"
Harry was wiping off his glasses, which had become fogged up. "You've got to admit, not everyone gets a display like that in their lifetime."
"Well, I was absolutely NOT trying to lead you on! The very idea-- I mean, you're the oldest friends I have at Hogwarts!"
"Try that again and you'll make a whole lot of new ones," Ron interrupted.
"STOP THAT! This was just to prove that my family really are naturists. THAT'S why I don't want you to talk about this; people will be dying to read other things into it."
Harry held up his hands. "Relax, Hermione, your secret's safe with us."
"The last thing I need is smutty gossip behind my back."
"So to speak."
Something about Ron's quip struck Harry as insanely funny; he started laughing, and found it hard to stop.
"Of course, if they did say something about it," Ron went on, "you could always turn the other cheek."
This struck Harry as even funnier. He rolled on the bed, laughing longer and louder, even though tears were in his eyes and he was finding it hard to breathe.
"I swear to you, Ron Weasley, that I have absolutely no intention of becoming the butt of…"
Ron didn't have to say anything; he just cocked one eyebrow at Hermione. That was all it took; she started laughing, and not one of her usual fits of the giggles. This was deep, loud, from-the-lungs-and-from-the-heart laughter. Ron started laughing along with her. Harry laughed so hard he rolled off the bed and onto the floor.
After a minute or two, all three were on the floor, gradually coming back to themselves.
"It's a shame this has to be our secret," Ron finally said. "Nobody would ever believe you were capable of that, especially being Prefect and all."
Hermione seemed to come suddenly awake. "Oh my; my parents! I was supposed to meet them!" She gathered up all her books and started for the door.
"Hermione, wait!" Ron shouted. "Can't you spend one night in the Burrow? Ginny would really like to talk to you."
"Sorry, Ron; really have to do this. See you on the train!" And she was gone.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked.
"Dunno. You think maybe she has a boyfriend?"
"You're the one with the girlfriend; you tell me."
Harry had to think a minute. "Nah, doesn't seem likely."
"Well, I'd better get back," Ron said. "See you at King's Cross."
"Say 'hi' to your family for me."
Ron stopped at the door; "Why don't YOU come back to the Burrow, then?"
"Sorry, Ron, but Cho's coming tomorrow."
"Say no more," Ron sighed as he left Harry alone in the room.
…to be continued…