CHAPTER ELEVEN – Of Course, You Realize This Means War

If Hermione Granger, Fellow of Advanced Arithmancy, was good at anything, it was organization. This current problem, in essence, was not very different from other problems she had faced in her life.  She helped rid the world of one paragon of darkness and depravity; she would do the same with this one.

Step One in ridding the world of evil is identifying the source of said evil.  That was easy enough.  In this particular case, evil came in the form of an overly made-up, incredibly annoying, exceedingly verbose, expectantly soon to be ex-girlfriend of one Ron Weasley. 

Step Two would be trickier: devise a plan that would get 'The Evil One' out of one's hair in a way that was subtle enough that the plan itself could not be detected, while overt enough to still be enjoyable.  After all, what was the point of eliminating 'The Demon Spawn' from the world if one did not enjoy doing it?

Step Three: the enlistment of accomplices.  Ginny Weasley had volunteered for duty before the plans were even set.  Hermione knew she was the perfect candidate. Women have an innate sense of pain.  Women bear pain in ways men could never fathom.  And, how could one who really had no sense of dealing with pain, know how to dispense it properly?  Oh, they might be able do more harm to someone physically, but physical wounds heal.  Men might be stronger in body, but woman were stronger in mind; and let's face it, the only way to fight evil is to be evil.  Harry, for example, might not have the killer instinct needed for such an operation.  Granted, he did destroy 'He Who Must Not Be Named Without Eerie Music Playing In The Background,' but he might have qualms with her methods and the premeditated destruction of a relationship…..blah, blah, blah.  Really, who had time for such trivialities?

Step Four: preparations.  Ginny was presently taking care of Step Four - Part One, Hermione was in charge of Step Four – Part Two which entailed a shower, a change of clothes, and a new attitude.  If she was going to challenge the 'Queen of All Things Plastic',  she would have to be on par with her and this would require a bit of work. 

Hermione was a better witch, of that she was certain.  However, though the idea of hexing Marie Elaina into smithereens was a wonderful way to kill a few hours, it was not how she was going to win this particular battle. She would not fight witch to witch, but woman to woman. It would be the only way to make Marie Elena truly understand what it is to lose and to whom she was losing.  It would be the only way to inflict the proper amount of humility to the 'Ice Princess.' It was time to bring in the big guns.  It was time for the LBD - the Little Black Dress (pause for dramatic emphasis - lightening crashes, thunder rolls, small animals scurrying away in fright).

To understand the importance of the gesture, one must take a moment to truly appreciate the LBD.  Most women have one in the recesses of their closet.  This is the dress that is just a little too short.  Just a little too tight.  One that hugs curves you never knew you had.  One that looks as if it was made for your body and your body only.  One that makes you feel sexy the second you put it on.  It has to be simple.  All black, no buttons or ornamentation.  The exhibition of the LBD should only be used in emergencies because once revealed, it would never again have its full potency.

(Author notes that her astute beta questioned the  wisdom of revealing the philosophy of the LBD to the guys of the world; asking if it was not a violation of some writ in the canon of the sisterhood. I disagree, citing that the fact the LBD works as well as it does, should be enough proof that the male of the species, just doesn't get it. Any creature that can be manipulated by a dress deserves what he gets.)

Hermione wasn't sure if she was going to need it on this trip to the countryside, but she brought it along, just in case.  You always bring it along, just in case.  You never know when the moment will present itself.  One must always be prepared for the possibility that one may find the need to crush a competitor into dust, after all.

She had decided to put her hair up with random curls released to frame her face.  Her make-up would be light with extra attention given to her eyes.  Natural radiance was the theme: softness and an unobtrusive glow to contrast 'The Evil One's' angular, more stark features. A whisper of perfume behind her ears - Jasmine would do nicely.  And the final touch: bare tanned legs and painted toes peaking out of open toed sling backs. 

An appraising look in the mirror told her it was time to proceed.  It was time for Step Five: Execution.

Step Five - Phase 1. Engaging the enemy and the eyeing the prize.

Hermione waited for everyone to be seated at the table before making her entrance. Lieutenant Ginny Weasley made sure that Ron was seated opposite the staircase so he would be the first to see her when she entered.  And he was.

In her best, Grace Kelly-entering -a –roomful- of- unsuspecting- suitors –on- the –night- of –the- King's -Ball persona, she slowly came down the stairs. It was a stance that said: "Look at me.  I am worth waiting for."  More importantly, however, she needed to make sure she didn't stumble down the steps and make an ass of herself.  This was the debut of the LBD, and it had to be perfect.

She paused at the bottom of the steps enjoying the look on Ron's face, a cross between blatant arousal and abject fear.  Perfect.  His inability to speak caught Harry's attention,  and he looked up too.  His face held less arousal and more admiration but with the same amount of abject fear.  Now, it was time for the pay-off.  Marie Elena, wondering why no one was listening to her clever anecdote, turned to face her.  There was definitely no arousal, no admiration, and no fear to speak of.  There was, however, loathing, envy, and outright incredulity. 

Marie Elena immediately recognized the cunning use of the LBD, and she knew its power – the gauntlet has been thrown.

"Sorry I'm late.  I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Hermione purred in her demurest voice.  She moved to the vacant chair directly across from Ron, courtesy of one Captain Ginny Weasley.  Yes, a promotion was in order.

"A bit over dressed for dinner, aren't you, dear?"  Marie Elena did not appreciate being out shone.  'OH, HELL NO.'

"A little, I suppose," Hermione answered with a small titter. "But, I thought since you where here, you would probably want to spend time with Ron alone, so I thought after dinner I would go out into town.  We met some really nice young men the other day by the lake, and I thought I'd look them up.  No use being the fifth wheel." She quickly scanned the room. Harry, having caught on to Hermione's game, all but gave her the thumbs up.  Admiral Ginny Weasley, being a little more subtle as any good soldier should, merely smiled.  'Never let the enemy see you sweat.'  And, Ron…well, Ron….

"You hardly know them," he stated plainly, (Translation: over my dead, rotting, worm ridden body!!!!!)

"I know enough, Ron." Hermione retorted.  "It's just a night out after all.  I don't want to be in the way here." Soft brown eyes locked with worried blue ones.

"You wouldn't be in the way," his voice was getting insistent.

"Ron dear, let her be." Marie Elena had had quite enough. Why, no one commented on her delicious meal since the little…witch entered the room.  "She is an adult and has every right to go out and meet a nice man.  After all, I'm sure there are many eligible, unattached, free, single men dying for a chance to go out with Harriet."

"Hermione," Ron said without looking to Marie Elena.

"Pardon me, Ronnie Darling?"

He looked at her now. "Her. Name. Is. Hermione."

"Of course it is." Who cares? "Well, anyway, we should all dig in.  The chicken is getting cold."

The air was filled with tension.  They ate in relative silence with Marie Elena prattling on about one thing or another, while Ron stole glances at Hermione.  For her part Hermione, while personally finding the chicken to be dry, was savoring the evening.

Step Five - Phase 2: Claiming your territory. 

It was time to raise the stakes.  And, if done properly, the stakes would not be the only thing raised that evening.  (Author apologizes for lame joke written in a moment of caffeine withdrawal.  Okay, so maybe Author isn't really sorry.  Maybe Author is actually snickering at her little play on words.  Maybe Author should just go and get that damn cup of coffee.)

Hermione was happily enjoying her salad when she nonchalantly slipped off her shoe and lifted her foot until she could feel Ron's leg with her toes. A quick glance told her she had made contact and said contact was acknowledged and accepted.  Acceptance came in the form of a raised eyebrow and furrowed brow.  'Oh, this was going to be fun,' she thought with sadistic glee.

Painfully, slowly, she reached over and began to rub his ankle with her foot.  The methodic, rhythmic rubbing was enough to lower the questioning eyebrow and relax the confused brow.  Marie Elena's droning became a faint buzzing in their ears as they focused on one another.  Finding that the tauntingly close proximity to bare skin was too much for a girl to take, she slowly pulled down his sock with her toes.  With the soft skin of his leg exposed before her, she went to work.  Small circles at first would quickly become long strokes up and down his shin.  His skin rose to meet hers in gooseflesh and shivers.

She lifted her leg further and leaned in so that she could caress his thighs.  And, yes, they were quite as muscular as they appeared.  A smarmy grin played on his lips as he shifted forward in his seat to give her more access. Inching her foot up his thigh, she relished the way his leg shuddered, urging her to continue. Torturing him at her leisure and watching him love it was a reward in and of itself, but seeing him bite his lip and run his hand through his hair in sexual frustration took on more of an Olympian victory - banners flying, crowd cheering, endorsement deals flooding in.

Hermione allowed herself a smile as she watched him lift a shaky hand to his water glass and hastily begin to down water in an attempt to keep in control.  Thinking, 'timing is everything' and thanking Merlin for a narrow enough table, she used that precise moment to upgrade the attack, and she shifted her leg slightly so her foot rested itself upon his hardening groin.  This maneuver caused Ron to choke on his water, spitting part of it on Marie Elena – well, that was just an added bonus, really.

"Ron! What's wrong with you?" she shrieked.

"Sorry ….eh…..sorry.  I….I just caught myself in a sneeze while drinking," he sputtered.

"I do wish you would be more careful," she said while wiping her blouse.

She went on for a bit after that but neither Ron nor Hermione heard.  Hermione continued to rub Ron's erection, and Ron had no intention of stopping her.  A red painted toe followed the ridge of his shaft, starting in at the base and slowly tracing it to the very tip. She repeated the movement over and over until she could feel his knees start to shake.  As his eyes rolled to the back of his head,  Hermione decided it was time to stop her assault and finish her dinner.  It would be somewhat difficult to explain why Ron suddenly cried out in ecstasy over chicken and salad, especially Marie Elena's dry chicken and salad (a bit heavy on the dressing in Hermione's opinion.)

The rest of the room seemed oblivious to what had just happened, Hermione was certain;  Marie Elena did not stop to draw breath once in the last fifteen minutes.

Hermione took a moment to survey the room.  Empress of the World, Ginny Weasley,  winked at her from behind a forkful of salad.  Harry was caught between trying to eat and trying to get a word in edgewise during Marie Elena's current discourse about some sort of Muggle celebrity's New Age eat-only –pomegranates-and-salmon diet.  Hermione then turned to Ron to find him sipping his water again and smiling. No looks of annoyance or anger being aimed at her, no sign of anything other than delight. Just the complete sanctioning of her onslaught.  His acceptance only fueled Hermione's resolve.  He wanted this too.

Hermione paused for a moment as Little Hermione, complete with angel wings and a halo, popped up on her shoulder. Her saccharin voice sang sweetly into Hermione's ears, 'You have already won, Hermione.  It would be easy enough to stop now, to get Ron alone and discuss things like adults. To find a rational way to explain to Marie Elena that you and Ron were meant to be together for over a decade now.  It was destiny, really.  And, though you are truly sorry for any pain you would be causing her, neither you nor Ron could continue to deny your feelings for each other.  Yes, that would be the mature and rational thing to do.'

'But where's the fun in that?' Hermione thought evilly.  With a swish and a flick, Little Hermione was banished back into the bowels of  "Get over yourself," where she belonged.

No, it was time to prepare for Step Five - Phase 3.  Confronting the enemy face to face.  She and Miss Marie Elena would be having a little chat.